#But uh what the Fuck are the Bats and Birds??

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 193

Once again I put forth cryptid batfam. But with a Marvel crossover. Because why not. 

See Gotham isn’t really talked about by the others in the US. The other cities ignore, ignore, ignore as best they can manage, pretending that if they don’t see it, it doesn’t exist. 

That being said, they aren’t completely oblivious to it either. Oh they don’t believe the tales and whispers that come out of the place, because if they were true surely someone would have done something. But they are aware of things like Wayne Industries or Drake Enterprises, right up there with Stark’s. 

Both of which are based within Gotham, though have plenty of things outside the dreadful city as well. Now the Drake couple were constantly seen at galas outside of New Jersey before their tragic demise, but the Waynes? Never once have they been seen outside their city for a single Gala. 

Which makes this invite that one Tony Stark get to one of the Gotham Galas incredibly surprising. Suspiciously so actually, but he has the option for a couple plus ones. His team might be interested- Shield definitely would, seeing as Gotham is a complete blackout on their files. And from his hacking he’s discovered that any information gathering attempts of theirs have failed. 

But really, how bad can it be, it’d only be a couple days after all.

…

Okay what is that fucking thing on top of the building-

#Prompts #DCU #DC #Cryptid Batfam #Cryptid Batman #Cryptid Batfamily #Marvel #DC x Marvel #Marvel x DC #Something to think about is how the Avengers are directly working for the US government while the JL are all volunteers #Bruce is in his own information gathering state #But has also given his kids permission to go all out on the cryptidness #Gotham doesn’t like outsiders and the small avengers team is struggling #They meet a Mr Kent at one of the cafes and have a nice conversation- and he even gave them a bit of information #But uh what the Fuck are the Bats and Birds?? #*Probably* not gods or demons? You don’t sound sure about that- aaand he’s gone #The batclan are blessed/cursed by Gotham #This is why they do not die or don’t die permanently- and why they don’t seem to age either #For funsies #Eldritch Batfam #batman #avengers #stark industries #wayne enterprises #The team spots a Signal booi and are immediately befuddled about wtf they just saw

[r3ynah]

NU UH

Jack Fenton, dialed his younger sister's phone number as he gazed apologetically at the family of bats, that was hanging around in his living room. he impatiently waited for the other party to pick up.

The Bat family remained stoic as they observed the man, they had or Batman had ordered to put the call on speaker, if ever the phone was answered, Robin had stared at the doorway leading to the kitchen there stood Jack's supposed oldest daughter Jazz. who only stared amused at her father's antics much to Robin's confusion.

finally after a grueling 10 seconds wait, the call was finally answered.

Robin held his breath awaiting for the voice he was expecting for.

"Yes, Ahki?" Talia's voice resonated, from the phone. making everyone's eyes except the Fenton family widen.

'what? mother never told me she had a brother.' Damian thought as he took a peek at his father's face who was scrunched up in confusion. same for the rest of his family.

"Talia, my dear ukht, I've heard from a few birds and bats that you have taken my son. on his fieldtrip." Jack said, his nervous and outgoing personality vanishing and what took place was a serious and angry tone of a father as soon as heard the caller's voice, making everyone in the room shudder at the sudden cold atmosphere while the oldest daughter remained composed and unbothered as she watched.

Silence came from the other side of the phone, before answering "It seems i have." Talia answered back, you can here the voice of a boy in the background asking if it was his dad.

"Stop with this false innocence of yours, bring my son back immediately, partly alive and safe." Jack stated, much to the Bats and birds confusion.

Silence once again, as the phone remained quiet seemingly put down on a table with a few whispers and shuffling. before it was picked up once again.

"Nu uh." was the only thing Talia said as she hang up.

everyone paused.

"The fuck you mean 'Nu uh'?!" Jack yelled, at his phone. While his wife walked their daughter's side who was laughing her ass off, confused she looked at the bats then at her husband and then just sighed.

"Dinner's Ready." she only said as she retreated back at to the kitchen.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dpdc #Jack and Talia are siblings #Talia kidnapped Danny so they can have a aunt and nephew bonding #the both of them were planning to kidnap Damian #they were gossiping about Ra's aswell #Danny was the one who told Tallia to say Nu uh #Jazz was the one to tell Talia where Danny was in the first place #Maddie is the beacon of peace in this household #this was made at the crack of dawn #good parents jack and maddie

[februarys-wednesday]

i like the idea that bruce just shows up to league meetings with his birds with absolutely no explanation offered

i mean this man frequently stalks his coworkers and knows everything that's happening in their personal lives and i think he'd forget that HE is the weird one for doing it and not everybody automatically knows when he's acquired a new child

so he just shows up at the watchtower with a new bird and literally says nothing about it . just sits at his chair with the latest robin standing next to him and literally doesn't acknowledge that anything is different and it gets even more confusing when they change their costumes and names 😭

like

20-something bruce: and containing this may be a matter of-flash did you have a question

barry: uh. yeah. sorry, what is that?

20-something bruce: (glancing at 9 yr old dick who has been next to him for 45 minutes) that's robin. obviously. as i was saying,

-

early 30s bruce, who hasn't shown up with a robin for a few years, entering with a nightwing and a jason todd robin:

barry:

diana:

hal:

j'onn:

bruce: what.

hal:

hal: do you like clone them or

-

mid 30s bruce, quietly talking with a clearly-not-sixteen-years-old robin in the corner after being without one for two years:

hal:

diana:

barry:

j'onn:

clark:

bruce:

tim:

bruce: this one followed me

-

late 30s bruce zeta-beaming in with a nightwing, a slightly older robin, and an absolutely BUILT man in a red hood:

barry: did you hire a bodyguard

bruce: no.

barry: whos mr red over there

bruce: you don't remember my second one???

barry:

hal:

diana:

j'onn:

clark:

barry: did. did that one not die

jason: got better

-

later 30s bruce, quietly showing around a blonde robin:

hal:

bruce: don't ask.

hal: i didn't say anything

-

40 yr old bruce, making intense, unbroken eye contact with a black shadow:

clark, leaning over to talk to tim: what are they doing

tim, not looking up from his fancy ipad: do i look like i know that

-

red robin popping in unnanounced in the middle of a league meeting: batman is alive.

barry: who the FUCK are you???

-

batman, some minutes later, trailed by what is CLEARLY a new robin: did red robin happen to pass through here????

barry: i have several questions

-

no-longer-lost-in-the-time-stream bruce, talking to batgirl, black bat, and the signal:

hal: did you get three more.

bruce: no. just one.

hal: i shouldn't have asked, my bad

-

mid 40s bruce wayne, stepping out of the zeta tube: sorry i'm late

diana: not to worry. let's get start-

bruce: i have a few more coming behind me

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

jason: hi

cass: 👋

diana:

diana: ok should we st-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

dick, holding damian like a scowling, sopping wet cat: bruce he's not feeling polite today

damian: HISSS

bruce: okay does he need to go back?

dick: he said he's fine but hes just not feeling polite

diana:

diana: is that the las-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

steph: b i need a hair tie

diana:

diana: so can-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

duke: b did i miss rolecall

diana: no, signal, you did not. let's-

zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀

tim: b alf is mad at you

bruce: why

hal: it's like a fucking clown car

steph: you didn't eat breakfast

tim: you didn't eat breakfast either

steph: shut.

damian: HISSSS

jason: wing. if you do not keep that brat quiet-

dick: hes a BABY!!!!!

duke: you didn't eat breakfast either, timothy

jason: hes a BITCH!!!!!

tim: who the fuck told you????

cass: :)

hal: (storming off, in tears), YOU HAVE TOO MANY CHILDREN.

#got carried away with this but the idea that the jl cannot keep track of all the fucking kids bruce has is so funny to me #dc #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam #nightwing #robin #dick grayson #red robin #red hood #tim drake #cass cain #jason todd #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #spoiler #batgirl #the spoiler #justice league #batkids #elle's original content

[deadsetobsessions]

“Trust me.”

By the gods, he does. Even when the tell tale cracks of lies web through Tim’s face, even when Dick hears the waver in Tim’s voice, all but indiscernible to those who didn’t know his baby brother like he did, Dick still puts his faith in Tim.

He has no choice. Not when he’s chained to the wall, broken and beaten and bloody. Not when backup is too far away and Bruce and Jason is slumped over unconscious. Not when Tim has to choose between them or himself. Not when Dick knows that that’s never a choice he’ll take for himself.

“Come back soon, baby bird.”

How could he be angry at Tim for lying when Dick is doing the same? How could he be angry that Tim broke free before any of them did and incapacitated the villains on his own when Dick would have done the same if he could? How could Dick be angry- no, he is angry, that Tim chooses to sacrifice himself to save the. Because there is no other way? He would have done the same, if he could.

“Yeah.”

But he couldn’t. And it’ll cost him Tim. Dick doesn’t want to loose another brother.

Tim tips forward into the glowing white portal, and the world flashes white.

Dick doesn’t have a choice.

——

It’s only when he’s Nightwing again, with a Jason that had not died, does he remember.

“Wing?!” Jason catches him as he stumbles. Flamebird. Jason goes by Flamebird. Not Red Hood.

Dick stands, roughly brushing Jason off in a way he’ll have to apologize for later. But right now, the vigilante puts in behind him as he swivels wildly to look for the thing- no, the person that unlocked his memories of Before.

It’s only now, does Dick understand what his heart’s been trying to tell him for years.

It’s only now, does he understand who he’s been missing for, for years.

It’s only when he’s facing the large lenses of a camera in front of pained, longing eyes, does Dick Grayson comprehend what he lost and who gave him everything he has now.

“Baby bird-!” The nickname tears out of him as Nightwing, as Dick, stumbles towards the curled up figure of his baby brother.

“Nightwing, what…?”

“Dick…?” Their stalker, Dick’s baby brother, asks, hope marring his voice.

“Baby bird.” He chants, pulling Timothy Drake into a hug, uncaring of the way the camera digs into him. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

Tim curls into the hug, hands gripping the back of the Nightwing suit.

“You remember…?”

“I missed you. Always. There was something missing and it was you, and you did it- we’re alive-!”

“I told you to trust me.”

And despite the sass, Dick could hear the waver in Tim’s voice. And this time, he’s free to act on it. Dick squeezes his little brother closer.

“I will always trust you, baby bird.”

“Uh. Wing. What the fresh fuck is happening?”

Dick pulls back, ready to cheerfully manhandle Tim into becoming a part of the Bats once more. He’d do something about Tim’s overworking habits, but even Dick knows a loosing battle when he sees one.

“Jay, this is Tim. “

——

“Wait. Someone shot Tarantula. Was that you…?”

“Heh,” Tim grins at him sheepishly behind a Batburger.

#batman #dc #dick Grayson #au tim time travel #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #flamebird #nightwing #Tim isn’t a vigilante yet

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

"Eddie's still a wanted man. I want him. The police want him, and you just want him to take a stroll through the woods," Steve said, swinging his arm.

"Pardon?" Eddie asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked up at Steve, still crouching by Skull Rock.

"What?" Steve asked.

"What did you say?" Eddie asked.

"When?" Steve asked.

"That last part. I missed it, I think," Eddie said.

"The police want him, and you just want him to take a stroll through the woods?" Steve asked.

"No, before that," Eddie said.

"Eddie's a wanted man?" He asked.

"No, in between those two things," Eddie said.

"Uh, I don't think I said anything," Steve said in confusion.

"Eddie, man, sometimes he says things, and he doesn't realize he's said them until later," Dustin said.

"So, you heard it too?" Eddie asked.

"We all heard it," Max said, and Lucas nodded.

"I didn't. What did Steve say?" Robin asked, and they all looked at her. "What? There was a bird."

"So, he's - ?" Eddie asked, not saying it outloud.

"Problem?" Dustin asked.

"No! No, I would be a hypocrite! I'm definitely putting a pin in that for later, though, because I am very interested," Eddie said.

"What did I say?!" Steve hissed at Dustin.

Dustin grinned and shrugged.

A little while later. . .

Steve and Eddie were walking through the Upside Down, Steve’s bat bites bandaged up by Nancy. Eddie was currently rambling on about her when it hit him. Steve grabbed him and pulled him close.

"Oh my god!" Steve said in realization.

"There it is," Eddie grinned.

"I said - " Steve said, blushing.

"I want you too, big boy," Eddie said.

"Big boy?" Steve asked.

"Because of your very big. . .feet," Eddie said.

"Wait, why were you trying to push me towards Nancy?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I was fucking with you," Eddie grinned. "I mean, she was definitely eye fucking you on the boat but who could blame her?"

Steve laughed before smashing his lips to Eddie's, cupping the back of his head. Eddie moaned against his mouth and then shrieked into Steve’s mouth when he felt a vine brush against his leg. Without thinking, he jumped into Steve’s arms. He legs squeezed Steve’s hips. Steve groaned.

"Are we in Scooby Doo or the Upside Down?" They heard Robin asked.

Eddie winced and climbed off of Steve, looking sheepishly.

"Sorry," Eddie said, and Steve laughed, taking his hand.

"I'm fine. Now, let's NOT split up and find a way out of here," Steve said.

"I guess that makes me Shaggy," Eddie grinned.

And they walked to Nancy's, they held hands and talked about Scooby-Doo.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet

[spacedace]

The one where Elle keeps having to deal with her boyfriends’ family members breaking into her home Part 1 (Jon/Damian/Elle secret dating nonsense):

-

Dick finds out about Damian’s girlfriend at the same time he meets her for the first time.

Normally something as momentous as discovering that his babiest brother had a dating life would have been cause for excitement and joy. Damian had grown a lot from those early years, but Dick still worried about him. Since moving out and into his own apartment he seemed more likely than ever to avoid people, even - maybe especially - the family. He still came over to the manor regularly, but it was rare than at anyone outside of Alfred even saw him outside of patrol or working on cases. He showed up, spent time with Batcow and Alfred-the-Cat and Ace, then left before anyone saw him.

So finding out that Damian had a girlfriend - let alone one he was serious enough about that they lived together - should have been the highlight of the week, maybe even the month!

Unfortunately for him, however, the excitement of it all was rather dimmed by the concussion of said girlfriend hitting him over the head with a baseball bat with the force of a freight train after assuming he was a stranger breaking into her home.

In hindsight secret live in girlfriend may have been the reason Damian had been so squirrelly about any of them coming over to his place.

Secret Live In Girlfriend - name pending - was currently dialing someone on the phone, most likely the police. Which meant that Babs’ system was going to flag a B&E at Damian’s apartment mere minutes after he’d told her he was crashing at Baby Bird’s apartment. Which meant that Secret Live In Girlfriend wasn’t going to be so secret anymore since Robin was on patrol and would have never called the cops anyway if he had been home when someone broke in. Provided half a dozen Bats didn’t come crashing in via the balcony door the second they get wind something was happening at Damian’s place before Robin could even try and explain what was happening. And wouldn’t that be a cherry on top of the embarrassing sundae his first impression with Damian’s significant other was shaping up to be so far.

“Hey, so uh.” Secret Live In Girlfriend said from her place perched on top of the kitchen island, Titus at her feet and bright green bat - or no, was that a collapsible baton? It was hard to tell, he hadn’t been hit that hard since the last time Bane went on a rampage, it was honestly impressive such a petite woman had that kind of strength in her - held securely in her other hand. Her eyes never left Dick from where he was bound and gagged on one of the kitchen chairs. “Sorry to call so late Day, but a fucking cop just broke into the apartment.”

Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about how they were going to explain why half the vigilantes in Gotham were busting in to her boyfriend’s apartment in response to a break in. He was slightly concerned at the fact that she had apparently swiped everything from his pockets at some point while she’d been maneuvering him into the kitchen chair without him noticing, but she had hit him pretty hard and the concussion was bad enough that he was pretty sure he was going to be benched by Alfred for a while once he got checked out. He probably just hadn’t noticed with how badly his ears were ringing and he was fighting the sudden intense urge to vomit.

More important than all that though, Secret Live In Girlfriend called Damian Day, and even though she was glaring daggers at Dick her face softened as she focused in on listening to Damian’s voice and awww she really was completely smitten with his baby brother that is the cutest shit ever and he can’t wait to tell everyone about it as soon as she lets him go.

“Want me to take care of him?”

Provided she doesn’t let him go in an entirely more permanent way.

Holy fuck she didn’t even hesitate before asking her boyfriend if Damian wanted her to kill a man for him. That was her first question out the gate. No hey should I call the police or do you know this man no just straight for do you want me to make him disappear? She’d even tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder so she had a free hand to pet Titus while she asked, the big ol’ hellhound leaning in happily to the ear scritches and entirely unbothered by Dick’s predicament, casual as anything as she asked Damian if he wanted her to murder his brother for him.

Dick watched as Secret Live In Girlfriend listed to whatever it was Damian was saying, her hard glare easing a little as she did. At length she let go of the day-glow-green baton and plucked up Dick’s wallet, flipping it open to peer at his license.

“ID says Richard Grayson.” She said, pausing again to listen to Damian again, eyes flicking up towards Dick again as she did. “Oh shit, your brother Richard?” Secret Live In Girlfriend’s eyes went wide, face losing all traces of that frigid distrust she’d been leveling at him, expression rapidly turning towards surprised and embarrassed. “…I think I gave him a concussion.” She said, looking sheepish. “You uh…you finish up at work. I’m going to just…untie him and uh…get him to a hospital.” Whatever Damian said next made the young woman laugh, eyes sparkling as she looked down at Titus. “I’ll let him know. Be safe out there.” Her expression turned warm and soft at what Damian said next over the phone, “Love you too, Day.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. I love you too. As in, Damian had said I love you. Like, obviously they had probably gotten to that point of their relationship to break out the L word if they were living together, but Dick could count on one hand the number of times Baby Bird had said that to someone in their family in all the years since he’d moved in. And he said it first! Without prompting! Or someone being about to die!

Dick was still riding the wave of that stunning revelation of his little brother’s emotion growth when Secret Live In Girlfriend came into focus in front of him, the gross, now slightly damp sock she’d shoved in his mouth earlier in hand and a concerned furrow in her brow and - ah shit he lost time there for a bit didn’t he? Yeah, Alfred was definitely going to bench him for this one. Seriously Dami’s girlfriend was no joke with that baton of hers.

“I’m so sorry again about this,” Secret Live In Girlfriend said, “I just heard the door and I knew Day wasn’t going to be back home for hours yet and Jon is doing that thing with his dad tonight -“ She’d tossed the sock over her shoulder and Titus happily snatched it up and carried it off to his bed in the living room to destroy. “Are you - actually I’m not going to ask that, you’re for sure not okay. I hit you pretty hard.”

Oh, so Jon knew about Secret Live In Girlfriend. Yeah that made sense.

He and Damian had been best friends since they were kids - as much as Damian had tried to deny it when they were still little - and even if Dami had been successful in keeping his family of detectives off the scent of his love life, there was no way that he was going to keep that from Jon Kent. Superboy Jr. practically lived at Damian’s place. They were practically attached at the hip, there was no way Dami could sneak something as big as that past Jon.

“No worries!” He tried to wave her concern off - she’d untied him during his little lapse in memory, that was nice, she tied knots better than most rogues in the city and even without a head wound he probably wouldn’t have been able to get out of them on his own - but it made him sway a little which probably wasn’t all that reassuring. “I did break in. I didn’t tell Damian I was coming over or anything, I just figured I’d crash on his couch for the night. Sorry to scare you!”

He flashed his most charming smile and hoped that the blood dripping down his face didn’t diminish it too much. This was already a disaster of a first impression, and Damian had said he loved her Dick was not going to be the one to chase her off.

Secret Live In Girlfriend - he really hoped she didn’t introduce herself during that minute or two he couldn’t remember - rolled her eyes. “It’d take a lot more than some cop breaking in to my house to scare me.” She said, voice so sure that even if Dick hadn’t heard her casually offer to murder him on Damian’s whim he would believe her. “Here, let me grab the first aid kit so we can at least clean you up a bit and then I can take you to the hospital.”

Dick gave what he hoped was a brilliant smile and a thumbs up before tipping sideways and throwing up all over her shoes.

So much for salvaging the first impression.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #batman #Danny Phantom #dani phantom #dani fenton #danielle fenton #Damian Wayne #jon kent #dick grayson #Jon Kent x Damian Wayne x Danielle Fenton #what's that called? SuperSeriousChaos? #SuperSeriousChoas #poor Dick Elle really walloped him #in her defense he did break in #also like he's still a cop at this point of the story #so she's valid in being a bit defensive #she didn't know if he was a dirty cop or with the LoA either way she was ready to take him out for Damian lol

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex x Reader x John Wick WIP Part 5!

Ready evil geniuses? @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

#wicked johnson fic #yandere john wick #yandere tex johnson #john wick #tex johnson #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

-

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart 

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that. 

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you. 

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

-

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60 

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.” 

Tim blinked. “My what?” 

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.” 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos 

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne 

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224 

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks 

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

#tim drake #batfam #red robin #dc robin #jason todd #good parent bruce wayne #dick grayson is nightwing #damian wayne is a little shit #tim drake is a menace #jason todd is red hood #jason todd is a little shit #fluff #light angst #bart allen #young justice #conner kent #tim drake loves coffee #tim drake centric fic #timkon

[ms-nesbit]

jay and the glass elevator (jason todd x reader)

rating: 18+ (minors fuck off)

summary: jason and reader go on a date, but jason is too tempted.

warnings: smut, masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, reader has a softer body

Ao3

word count: 1.5k

There is no such thing as a wrong answer.

There is no such thing.

Jason echoes the statement as he adjusts his shirt collar with one hand, his other anxiously clutching the bouquet of wildflowers. He then knocked on the apartment door.

“Too-daloo!” y/n sang from the other side of the door, hooking her hoop earring through her ear. “I’ll be right there.” she tweaked the heel of her boots, the burgundy vaguely complimenting Jason’s blood red button-up.

Y/n opened the door, and she was met with the assembly of wildflowers, varying in size and texture, and an ecstatic Jason beaming down at her. “Uh, these are for you.” he held out his hand holding the bouquet, which y/n exchanged for a peck on the cheek.

“And who said vigilantes resurrected from the dead couldn’t be romantic and thoughtful?” y/n mentioned, pinching Jason’s cheek.

Jason linked his arm to y/n’s, mildly puzzled by her comment. “...Someone said that?” he muttered.

Y/n only chuckled in response, planting another peck on Jason’s cheek, as they filed together into the creaky elevator. While y/n planned her outfit three days in advance, she - as usual - made last-minute arrangements, trading out her dress for a pair of dark, hip-hugging jeans, and a low-cut, maroon satin camisole, layered underneath a pleather jacket;

Jason, however, noticed the moment she flung open the door. He was greeted by his favorite person in his favorite outfit. She knew how the jeans tempted Jason - her curves accentuated in the dark indigo shade - but paired with the camisole? His color on her, especially in a top so teasing? Jason’s mind darkened, and it only progressed when they stepped into the rundown elevator, allowing space only for the couple.

“Are you excited?” Y/n asked, skipping in place. Jason’s eyes peered at her as her body bounced slightly, resisting his urge to pin her against the wall and take her then and there. Y/n noticed his inattentiveness to the conversation. “Or are you excited?” she turned to Jason, resting a hand on his broad chest as batted her eyelashes at him. “Are you thinking about me, Jace? Like what you see? Want to…” she lowered her voice, leaning in to whisper, “...have a bite?”

In one quick motion, Jason reached over and pressed the elevator button, halting it in its passageway, and pinned y/n against one of the walls, his lips attaching to her neck. Y/n released a shy moan. “Here, Birdie? Really?”

Birdie was ironic - an ex-Robin, Jason never forgave himself for being so caught up in the cowl; yet y/n broke him from his own cage, finally a free bird, and he was using his freedom wrapping himself around y/n’s finger, or in this case-

“Fuck,” y/n gasped as Jason, with two hands, reached around and grabbed y/n’s plump ass, kneading it as he left sloppy wet kisses wherever he could. He wanted more, anything y/n had to offer, he would happily accept, so when y/n moved her hand to undo her jean button and unzip it, eyes batting up at the black-haired man, it would have been foolish for Jason to simply not explore what lay underneath (though he had before - it wouldn’t hurt to check).

He slid a hand underneath the jeans, and over her panties, middle finger slipping near her dripping core, and circling lazily, tauntingly, as an imprudent smirk ran across his face. “Jay…” y/n whined quietly, in a way Jason could never get tired.

“What’s the matter, Baby? Got you all wound up already?” his neck craned so he could whisper in y/n’s ear, playfully nibbling at her ear in between statements. “You’re already soaked, Princess.”

Y/n bit down on her lip. “Of course, Jason.” she turned her head so their eyes would meet again, and she gave him a look of damning temptation. “I’ve been waiting so long for you, y’know? While you were on your way, I was thinking of maybe…” she reached down to where Jason’s hand was still making small movements against her clothed cunt, “...touching myself, thinking of you.”

“Fuck.” Jason groaned, yanking y/n’s jeans and panties down to her knees - just enough for Jason to dip his head and flick his tongue against y/n’s slit, parting them with his tongue to access her aching core. Y/n’s eyes screwed shut as she felt Jason’s breath on her skin, fanning her as he dragged his tongue along her sensitive bud, knowingly holding y/n’s reign of pleasure hostage until she gave in to his demands: beg.

Y/n’s teeth punctured her bottom lip from the pressure of the bite, but she paid no mind to it, all too tunneled on the wet brush on her cunt. “Please,” y/n managed, “please.”

Jason smirked under her. “I won’t give in until you ask politely.” he reminded huskily, basking in the sight before him. Although it hadn’t been long since their last encounter, it felt like eons to Jason, whose cock was choking underneath his own clothing; despite this, he was patient enough and waited, sitting on his knees with feet tucked underneath his ass. Love was a language that was foreign to him until y/n taught it to him, and after that, he wanted to speak it any way he could.

“Please- can you please make me come?” y/n asked, bloody lip pouting. Whether it was the heat of the moment or the confined space of the elevator already restricting what filth in which they could indulge, y/n was out of breath, heart racing.

Jason returned to her pussy, wasting no time as he flicked his tongue on her, as if he were parched. One of his hands rested on her thigh, moaning at the soft contour; his other snaked between her thighs, sneaking up to her heat, waiting to be touched.

The moans y/n released were pornographic, so when Jason inserted two fingers, instantly bending them upon entering, y/n’s back caved from the stained elevator wall, body trembling as she neared her orgasm. “That’s it, Baby.” Jason glared at y/n with intensity, the sounds leaving y/n’s lips sending waves of pleasure to Jason’s clothed erection. “You like that? Hmm? Your tight pussy likes this attention, doesn’t it?”

Y/n could only manage a nod, too overwhelmed. “You’re so good, so fucking hot.” one hand quickly left y/n’s thigh as it untangled Jason’s pants, freeing his cock for mere moments before he tightly wrapped his hand around it, tugging it. “Fuck, you look so goddamn perfect falling apart for me. All for me.”

The possession ran over his voice, haunting him. Y/n’s moans were met with Jason’s, which rapidly escalated into higher whimpers as he shelved his own release until he heard y/n’s. “So close…” y/n warned, though from her tone, it sounded more like a question, waiting for Jason’s approval for her to come.

“Y/n,” Jason’s brows furrowed, meek whines leaving his lips between words. It was his turn to beg. “Please come for me.”

Y/n looked past Jason’s eyes and saw his hand twisted around his cock, which was smeared in pre-cum, his cheeks a hint of lustful red. It was all she needed to stumble over the edge, head thrown back as her hips rocked, and Jason’s name leaving her lips in a strained scream. Jason guided her through her orgasm with his tongue on her clit, and fingers still pressed inside her, before he allowed himself to come.

Once y/n was too sensitive from her state, Jason moved his shoulders back, relaxing them as he chased his own high. “Gonna come, gonna come,” he warned, plush lips parted as he attempted to keep his eyes peeled on y/n’s still fucked out state, “Fuck, y/n, yes.” he muttered as his hand was getting sloppy, reckless, and body more desperate for release.

Y/n knew what to do, and she licked her bottom lip. “Oh, what’s this? Gonna come, Sweetie? Do it. Come for me, Doll.” she egged on, hand running along her silhouette.

Jason let out a loud whimper before his hand slowed, ropes of cum erupting from his cock. “Y/n, yes.” Jason cried, sobs of pleasure leaving his lips as he rode himself through his high.

When he returned to Earth, y/n was already clothed, and hair fixed, despite the obvious hickeys she now sported.

Jason rushed to his feet, fumbling with his pants as he sat disgusted with his mess. “Jesus, why is it always this much?” he frowned at the glistening cum on his pants and ground.

“Better too much than too little?” Y/n commented awkwardly, before giggling at him. “Too eager there, huh?”

Jason reached over to press the elevator button again, their bodies rocking as the mechanism began whirring. “You knew what you were doing, Hun.” He placed a tender kiss on y/n’s cheek as he stood next to her, acting oblivious to their act as the elevator doors opened.

#red hood #red hood x reader #red hood/reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd/reader #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #my post #mine #fanfiction #ao3

[ohtobeleah]

Need more of Terms of Endearment. Plz and thank xx

Warnings // Rooster x F!Reader. Hangman x Platonic!F!Reader. Mentions of Alcohol consumption and physical assault.

Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“What the hell are you playing at Hangman?” Rooster questioned as he dried his hair roughly with the towel that had recently been tucked around his waist. A fresh pair of jeans now adorning his hips.

“I'm playing matchmaker–” Hangman was quick to respond as he sat the car seat down on the bench in the locker room. Tapping the top of it twice with a shit eating grin. “Fe asked me to drop this off before you go.” Rooster hadn’t even thought about the car seat. God his Bronco was not built to harbour a car seat. “She also told me to tell you that she’ll call when she's leaving the workshop.”

“Id ask if you hit that bird on purpose but I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk ruining a multi million dollar jet on the grounds of setting me up with your roomie.” You and your little girl Dot had been living off base with Jake since you arrived in North Island in the middle of the night, running for what was essentially life or death. You wouldn't have come to Jake if you had any other choice–not one for handouts or charity, so when he was opening his door in the middle of the night, bat in hand because who the fuck was trying to bang his god damn door down in the middle of the fucking night–he was softening instantly.

“I have nowhere else to go–” You sobbed as Jake dropped the bat to the ground just barely missing his own foot. Completely and wholeheartedly accepting you and your crying daughter into his humble abode. He wasn’t blind, nor did he have a deviated septum. He saw the bruises and smelt the absurd amount of liquor on your breath. The way you clung to your daughter like she was your entire word made Jake hold his tongue. Pressing it into the side of his cheek as he let his chin rest on top of your head. It had to have been bad if you drove in the state you were in.

“Uh, I prefer stowaway–actually.” Jake teased as he watched Rooster throw his shirt over his head. “She needed a push—“

“I know what I’m doing man, I don’t need you interfering with my love.” Rooster huffed, he honestly didn’t mind playing the long game with you. He knew winning you over slowly would be worth it in the long run. He wasn’t all that sure of what you had been through—both you and Jake liked to keep that information under lock and key. But Bradley knew, he knew you were worth the wait, the work, the effort it would take to break your walls down brick by brick.

“Your love life is nonexistent Bradshaw I’m doing you a favour here!” Jake was no stranger to bringing home beautiful women, but ever since you and little Dot had been occupying his spare room? He had become more and more selective about the type he brought home. “And honestly, I’m just about sick of having to explain the children’s toys lying around whenever I bring someone home—“

“So this isn’t about Y/n at all then?” Rooster scoffed as he shook his head in utter disbelief. “This is about you wanting her out of your place.” Rooster had never actually strapped an infant's car seat into his car before. Picking up the capsule he marched out of the locker room into the hall, Hangman right on his tail. “I don't know what your thought process is man, but getting me to pick up Dot isn’t gonna have Y/n outta your house any quicker.”

The first time Bradley met you, he'd been tasked with finding out why Hangman was late for work. The cocky fighter pilot with the big ass egomaniacal smile and even bigger shit eating grin was usually if anything early. But the day Bradley first met you? It had been two hours since the first flight and Coyote was about ready to trade out his wingman. Patient had worn very thin. There’d been no calls and texts from Jake, no excuse or reason for his absence.

“Bagman!” Rooster was banging down Jake's front door incessantly. Huffing when there was no response. “Jake man you good?” He never stopped knocking. It’s what had woken you from what felt like your final resting spot on the lounge in the living room. The morning after Jake had taken you in. “SERESIN!” Roosters knuckles didn't meet hardwood when you swung the door open. Almost connecting with your already bruised and battered face as you held the door open.

“Fuck off!” Bradley Bradshaw had never been so taken aback in his life. “Stop knocking its rattling my fucking brain.” Rubbing your eyes as you yawned, stepping back to let whoever it was that wanted your brother so desperately into the house that would soon become a home. “Jakes upstairs–” At the mere mention of his name, Jake Seresin was barreling down the stars still doing up his flight suit. He knew he’d fucked up, but he’d been up with you all night holding your hair out of your face while you cried and threw up the content of your stomach. Dot in his lap crying in hysterics because she hadn’t slept a wink either. He’d only just work up after having slept like a log through his alarm.

“Dude—I’m fucked aren’t I?” Jake groaned as he tried slipping his work issued steel caps on.

“Who's the walking corpse?” Rooster asked as he watched you fall back onto the lounge, your ass on full display for him as you rolled over and pulled up the blanket Jake had given you. You were so plastered that the pain of your hangover hadn’t even set in yet. Jake was right, maybe he should have taken you to get your stomach pumped last night, but he was confident you'd thrown enough up that it wasn't a life threatening amount. “She's wearing your TopGun shirt–” Raising a questioning eyebrow, Rooster turned back to Jake. “You let strays stay the night now do you?”

“She's my sister.” Bradley heard the way Jake said it with a sigh, like he was almost disappointed. Jake could never be disappointed having you as a sister, but he was disappointed in a few of the choices you made that led you to this moment. Hungover, on his lounge with your daughter still asleep upstairs. You hadn’t been coherent enough last night to watch over her. Jake had stepped in. “Shows up on my doorstep last night, believe it or not she was in a worse state than this.”

“And the bruises?”

“Like I said, she showed up on my doorstep last night in a worse state than this.” Jake repeated himself as he held back tears. “I haven't really been able to get much out of her besides vomit.”

“Why haven't you ever told me you have a sister?” Rooster knew it was probably a stupid question to ask as he watched Jake fixed up the blacket that youd thrown harphazardly over yourself. “All this time we've known you and never a peep about a sibling—well, we know you have a brother but—“

“Non-biological.” Was the only answer Jake gave Bradley. “And whatever it is she’s going through it must be bad or else she wouldn’t have shown up here.”

“Yeah but if she’s occupied with you she might not be home all that much and before you know it? She’ll have approval for staff accommodation in no time.” You’d been waiting for a house for you and Odette the second you applied for a job as a technician. Jake had been the one to set you up. Your visit wasn’t meant to be permanent, but it seemed to be the safety and most secure option for you and your daughter.

“And she swears you’re an alright guy?” Rooster groaned as he unlocked his car, opening the passenger side door before placing the capsule inside. “Stay out of my love life—I don’t appreciate the meddling.”

“Fine, but I’m not making any promises to not meddle in Felix’s love life—“ Jake was quick to slightly step Bradley aside as he watched him struggling to connect the capsule car seat. “Here, you gotta loop the straps.” Rooster just stood back and took notes. How many times had Hangman actually done this? “She deserves the world and if I know anyone deserving of her? I’m looking at him.” Rooster just let the compliment Jake had gifted him sink in. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing—maybe Jake was genuinely doing him a solid.

Or maybe Jake Seresin was truly just over the two year old who cock blocked him more than she’d ever know.

***~***~***~***~***~***

Odette Dolan was the light of your world. Anyone who knew you knew that you’d set fire to the rain for that little girl. And as Bradley waited at the front counter of Sunny Side preschool and after school care, he understood what that feeling felt like.

“Who are you to little Odette again, Mr. Bradshaw?” One of the early educators asked as she eyes Rooster down. Curious as ever to know who this mystery man was. You’d only ever picked Dot up. Jake had done a few scattered—but it was always you if you could help it.

“Uh—I’m whoever she needs me to be I guess.”

Roosted rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Y/n asked if I could pick her up, I was free—so why not right?” 

“Well, She had a bit of a meltdown just after lunch but since she's woken up from her nap she’s been fine—“ One of the early educators beamed as she signed Rooster in. His palms were sweaty as he rubbed them together. “I already let her know that mummy’s friend Rooster was coming to pick her up today so she didn’t get too disgruntled on pick up.”

“Routines are important, I get it.” Rooster had a soft spot for your daughter. That spot got a whole lot bigger when Dot came flying around the corner with her bag on her back, shoes on the wrong feet and a picture of a stick figure flying a plane that her early educators had helped her draw.

It was Bradley. Her Rooster.

“Hey Dot!” Rooster beamed at the little girl smashing into him as he crouched down to pick her up–swinging her up onto his hip. “Whatcha got there?” Rooster always had the all the time in the world for Odette Dolan. How a single man has so much patience and so much unconditional love for a two year old you'd never understand. But they shared a bond like no other. Jake liked to joke that Rooster and Dot bonded so well because they shared the same mental age, but you knew deep down it was because he saw a little bit of himself in her.

“Wooster–” Your little girl laid her head gently against Rooster's shoulder, her eyelids heavy as he handed him the paper. Another picasso to add to his ever growing collection of fridge drawings. Too sentimental to let fall to the wayside. His heart exploded like new years eve fireworks over Time Square every single time she’d hand him a new artwork dedicated in his honour.

“Oh for me?” Rooster raised his eyebrows in excitement as he took the piece of paper. “Woah! You’re getting so good at these, looks just like me” If Bradley were a few pounds lighter maybe.

“Mama?” Dot questioned as she looked around for where you might be. Holding your daughter a little tighter as Rooster said his thanks to the early educators before venturing outside.

“No bubba, just me—“ When Rooster placed Odette into her car seat, he double then triple checked if everything was secure. “But mama's coming soon.” For a moment Rooster just sat in his car, wondering if he should go back to his or not. Looking over at your daughter as she already started to doze off in her seat, Rooster settled his decisions.

First Stop? The Hard Deck for some take away. Second Stop? Your house, not because he didn’t trust himself to take care of a two year old. But because this specific two year old probably wanted to go home.

And who was Bradley Bradshaw to deny your daughter of anything she wanted?

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradly rooster bradshaw #rooster x f!reader #rooster series #top gun bradley bradshaw #jake seresin imagine

[afewproblems]

Part Two of my Stranger Things Steddie AU, Steve always fall first, falls fastest. You can read part one Here!

Eddie watches as Steve peels out of the driveway, staring straight ahead with a blank vacant expression on his face. He looks at Jeff, who shrugs and takes one last hit from their joint before flicking it onto the concrete and stubbing it out.

Eddie frowns, Steve usually waits until Eddie is ready to leave before they both drive home, saying one last goodnight on the driveway.

The evenings grow longer and longer with each passing day as they crawl their way into summer, but it's dark now. The warmth of the day gives way to a cool breeze that ruffles Eddie's hair, and rustles the grass. He shivers lightly and rolls his shoulders before turning on his heel towards the garage. Light streams out from the door, illuminating Eddie's puzzled face as he walks back inside.

Gareth looks up at him, catching his eyes once before they drop to the bottle in his hands. His fingers play with the paper label, peeling it up at the corners.

Steve would always show up, like clockwork, every Sunday with a six pack of some variety, and sit in on their practices. It's nice, not something he ever would have predicted after surviving being nearly eaten alive by a bunch of bats from another dimension.

But if the new scars and nightmares come as a set with a few new friends that had dragged him out of Hell, who was he to complain?

He likes Robin, likes her dry wit and stubborn attitude, she loves fiercely once you've been chosen but doesn't seem shy about calling you an idiot if you deserve it.

He likes Nancy, likes how smart and unexpectedly tough she is, the woman can shoot a gun like no one's business. She's a bit more prickly than Robin, which is saying something, but she cares a lot.

He likes Steve.

He really likes Steve.

Steve, who had picked him up when he was bleeding out and ragdolling in the Upside Down and carried him through the last open gate. 

Steve, who sings along to Tears for Fears and Wham! in his car only to turn around and pull out a Queen cassette from the glove department.

Steve, who bitches and moans about driving the kids around to the arcade or to the Munson trailer for D&D nights, but never says no.

Steve, who stays up with Eddie during movie nights and listens to his wild ramblings without interrupting. He smiles and asks questions that prompt even longer responses, and seems content to simply listen.

Steve, who is definitely straight as an arrow, and would probably panic if he found out about Eddie and his little secret.

"Hey uh," Eddie asks after a beat, reaching for the last unopened beer in the cardboard, "did Steve have to go?"

He twists the cap and flicks it towards the bin, it bounces off the lip and clinks against the floor.

"Woah, I didn't know we knew Larry Bird?" Jeff snorts as he wanders through the door and exaggeratedly ducks with his hands over his head before dropping next to Gareth on the couch. Eddie rolls his eyes as Jeff relaxes against the sagging cushions and drapes his arms along the back.

Gareth's eyes flick once to Jeff before coming back to rest on Eddie's face, "I uh, dunno man, I think Steve  just had to go home. He didn't really get into it".

Eddie frowns at the tense line of the bassist's shoulders.

"Who cares man,” Jeff scoffs with a smirk, “now we can actually talk about our set list without having to stop and explain every little thing”.

Gareth winces and closes his eyes with a shake of his head.

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie snarls as he steps towards Jeff who freezes at the sudden proximity, "I didn't say anything when you insisted on bringing Mary O'Donnell around to every other practice two years ago--"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Jeff growls as he stands up, rising up to Eddie's eye level, "I liked Mary, you told me to go for it?"

"Exactly!" Eddie yells. He breathes in sharply as the words finally register.

Oh shit.

"Oh shit..." Gareth whispers.

Jeff's mouth opens and closes, his expression jumps from incredulity before dropping into shock.

Eddie had done a lot of growing in the last few weeks if he did say so himself, and he did - loudly and to whoever would listen. He could be brave, he had proved that with Dustin and the bats, he had proved that by diving into Lovers Lake to chase after Steve.

Bravery was no longer a first for him, he could stand his ground and hold firm in the face of adversity. 

But the Upside Down had nothing on admitting that he had a crush on the former ‘King-Steve’ to his two best friends. 

Eddie whirls around and walks out of the garage. 

He makes it about twenty feet before rapid footsteps echo behind him, not that he had been moving all that quickly.

The world feels as though he's wading through quicksand, each step dragging him down, he sighs and stops walking. 

Gareth catches up, mild surprise etched on his face. 

Eddie's eyes trail from Gareth back towards the garage, Jeff stands in silhouette just outside the door. 

"Come on man," Gareth says softly, "just come back inside, we didn't know--"

"What am I even doing," Eddie mutters, he scrubs a rough hand against his face, "I know how it sounds dude, you don't have to chase after me, I know I'm being an idiot". 

Gareth freezes for a moment and crosses his arms. His eyes scan Eddie's face as though he can read every wild thought traipsing through his mind, it's not a comfortable feeling.

In the distance Jeff cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Gareth! Did you tell him, we didn't know?" 

Gareth rolls his eyes and throws a hand behind him to swat the air, as though he wishes Jeff's head were there instead.

"For what it's worth," Gareth says with a sigh, "I don't think you're being an idiot…" the words come out in stops and starts, as though each one is weighed carefully before being released. 

Gareth was always careful when he spoke, more level headed than Eddie and Jeff, that's why they worked well together. Whenever Eddie or Jeff said something that went too far, Gareth was ready to pull them both back down to earth. 

"Steve actually seems like a decent guy I guess, kinda surprised about it but whatever,"  Gareth shakes his head once before breathing out through his nose, "and you're absolutely sure about this?"

Eddie doesn't even think before he nods, "Yeah man, I'm crazy about him". 

Gareth hums, his eyes haven't left Eddie's face once the entire time they've been standing on the sidewalk in the dark, they are in between street lights but that doesn’t seem to stop Gareth from reading Eddie like a book. 

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something, but if this goes absolutely sideways, I cannot be held responsible in any way," Gareth says once again in that slow, measured pace.

"Jesus, I've never known you to be this cryptic man, I kind of love it," Eddie huffs nervously, his hands dropping to his jeans to wipe the sweat from his palms. A light breeze catches him once again, caressing his hair as it billows down the lane, he shivers. 

"Steve likes you, we all know -well maybe not Bozo over there," Gareth gestures back towards the garage where Jeff continues to linger, "but you're not an idiot".

Eddie blinks. 

Steve likes him. 

Steve likes him? 

"What uh…what are you talking about?" Eddie manages, the words stick to his tongue, his mouth suddenly drier than the sahara. 

Gareth breathes out heavily and shifts, his hands come back up to cross over his chest. 

"Dude, please don't make me explain it, you seriously didn't know?"

"No?!" Eddie hisses, his hands climb to his hair, gripping the wild curls and pulling harshly. Steve liked him? How long had this been going on for? How long had he been completely oblivious? 

"I mean, I kinda thought you were waiting him out, trying to let him down easy, you're not the kind of person to string someone along so I hoped it wasn't because you liked the attention," Gareth mumbles with a shrug. 

Eddie's heart beats a wild staccato as the information continues to sink in, Steve likes him…

"Oh my God," Eddie whispers, "oh my God I-I have to go," he steps away, his shoes crunching against gravel as he turns on the spot, "I have to talk to him!" 

Gareth nods, a small bewildered smile blooms on his face as he shakes his head, "I mean, yeah man, go get him?" 

Eddie takes off past Gareth towards his van, still parked on the driveway, he flips off Jeff as the other man hoots and blows a kiss after him.

But it doesn't matter. A giddy euphoria bubbles up from his chest and throws itself from his lips as a wild cackle. He tosses open the door to the van and scrambles inside, Gareth's words echo over and over in his mind, Steve likes him, he has a chance!

The normally twenty-minute drive from Gareth's parents place seems to take forever, he hits all eight lights on the normally sleepy mainstreet and with every stop Eddie feels like he's vibrating out of his pants. 

He finally reaches the Harrington House, pulls haphazardly onto the drive and flings himself out of the van, just barely turning off the engine and pulling the Emergency brake on.

Eddie races toward the front steps and raps his knuckles against the door with three successive knocks. The house is dark, no lights, not even the flashes of the sitting room television can be seen from the front window.

For a moment there is nothing, no sound from the other side of the door. Eddie swallows and knocks again.

Then, the porch light flicks on with a metallic click.

The door opens just enough for Eddie to make out the shape of Steve, the hall light remains off, leaving Steve in shadow.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice rough, "What are you doing here?" 

"Hey, uh, hey Stevie,” Eddie manages, a wry smile threatening to take over his face the longer he stands in the doorway, “can I come in?" 

Steve hesitates, his hands remain fixed on the door but a slight tremble runs up his arm to his shoulder. 

Eddie falters for a moment, a hint of anxiety slithers through his chest. Was Gareth wrong?  

Steve sighs suddenly and pulls open the door, sliding sideways to let him pass. 

The giddy feeling in Eddie's chest slowly dissipates as he steps over the threshold into the dark foyer. He reaches over to the light switch on the wall and turns it on as Steve curses and turns away abruptly.

"Stevie?" Eddie says, his voice pitched with alarm, "hey what's going on?" 

"Don't, please don't call me that Eds," Steve whispers, his shoulders shake but he remains facing the opposite wall.

Eddie's stomach drops at the wet sound to his voice, the slight hitch, the shake of his shoulders.

"Oh shit Stevie, come here," Eddie says as he reaches for Steve’s shoulder, he grasps it lightly and gently begins to turn the other man towards him. Steve doesn’t move at first, holding firm, staring straight ahead and away from Eddie. 

He only has to smooth his ringed hand along Steve’s shoulder and up his neck and suddenly his arms are full as Steve crashes into him. 

“Oh sweetheart, its okay,” Eddie whispers. He brings his arms up around Steve, one hand curls into his hair while the other comes up around the small of his back. 

Steve’s face is tucked into his shoulder, his hands grip the fabric of Eddie’s shirt and vest harshly. He shudders and breathes, as though trying to stop the tears as they continue to fall, wetting Eddie's shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, the words catch in Eddie's hair but he shakes his head at the sound. 

Eddie frowns, “What on earth are you sorry for?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, Eddie takes it as an opportunity to kick the door closed behind them before planting his feet to stabilize the weight of Steve in his arms. 

When he looks back, Steve is facing him. His large hazel eyes are red rimmed and shining with tears, his nose and cheeks are flushed and his hair is a wild mess, but he looks beautiful to Eddie.

“I don’t,” Steve whispers eventually, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable".

It clicks.

Why Gareth was being so careful, so cryptic earlier, why Steve must have left early. 

"Did Gareth say something to you?" Eddie murmurs, the words are soft but there's a hint of anger there. 

Steve stiffens and shakes his head, a little too quickly. He bites his lip and makes to pull away but Eddie holds him tight. 

"Stevie, come on, I can't help if I don't know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours," Eddie says, his heart beats wildly in his chest as Steve slowly raises his head to catch Eddie's eyes once more.

Steve's eyebrows are furrowed slightly, but the slightest hint of hope lingers in those hazel eyes. 

Eddie swallows down his inner voice that screams, run, over and over and over - because isn't that the first tenant of bravery? 

Doing something, even though you're scared shit less?

"I'm going to try something here sweetheart," Eddie says slowly, carefully, all the years hanging out with Gareth have paid off in the strangest way.

He slowly leans in and presses his lips, dry and chapped, to Steve's.

It's soft, nothing more than skin to skin, Steve is frozen as though his body doesn't know how to process what's happening and God Dammit that's not what Eddie is hoping for. 

But then, Steve's eyes flutter closed and his body melts and his arms slide from the front of Eddie's shirt into his hair and around his neck and he's kissing him.

He's kissing him!

It's a little wet, Steve tastes like tears and his nose is running slightly but it's still perfect.

Eddie smiles and reaches us to cup Steve's cheek with one hand, his thumb caresses along his cheekbone across the constellation of freckles and moles on Steve's face.

Beautiful.

Eddie swipes the barest hint of tongue along the seam of Steve's lips before catching himself, slow and steady.

Eddie pulls back but leaves his hand on Steve's face and smiles widely at the dazed expression on his face. 

"You with me sweetheart?" Eddie whispers, grazing his thumb once more across Steve's cheek as he says it.

A deep blush blooms across Steve's face, spanning from the tips of his ears, across his cheeks, and down to his neck. Eddie files that reaction away for later.

"Yeah Eds, I'm with you," Steve says softly with his own small smile. 

There's a lot to talk about still, but it's certainly a start as Eddie leads Steve down the familiar hallway and into the sitting room.

And Eddie can't wait.

For everyone that asked to be tagged once part two was up, here you go! (I hope these tags worked, I haven't used Tumblr in FOREVER)

@what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-lifeon-life @henderdads @unclewaynemunson @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @samcoxramblings @stevesbipanic @cicadabeat @xthehatchick @cr0w-culture @moonshadows-13 @tv-mind @classicdinosaurdeathpose

And to @monstrousfemale who wrote such a beautiful second part to my initial post (please go check it out because it is lovely) I hope this holds a candle to yours! Thank you again for going over linking posts!!

#stranger things s4 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #let steve cry #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfic #drabbles #fixed it everyone #thank you everyone #oblivious eddie munson #we love supportive Jeff and Gareth #Somehow Gareth became a pretty cool character to write... #I hope you all enjoy!

[steddiecameraroll]

Two Years Too Long - part 2

Part 1 Part 2 ↓ Part 3 Part 4 AO3

Eddie is standing in the corner of his room holding a red Solo cup, not noticing that he’s splashing liquid around. At the same time, discussing the cultural importance of Hitchcock movies in modern-day horror films. His roommate Jeff rolls his eyes, having previously heard Eddie’s entire narrative on the topic. While Gareth tries to interrupt unsuccessfully multiple times.

“No, no, look. The whole point was to magnify the things that terrify us. Hitchcock played on psychology and repressed sexuality and splashed it on the big screen for the scared homophobic country to consume. It pushed the boundaries of decency and showed us that everything can be terrifying. Dude, like look at The Birds. When was the last time you feared a bunch of birds would attack you and pluck your eyes out? Probably never, but legit, it could happen, and how fucking terrifying would that be? That’s tremendously scarier than a serial killer chasing after you.”

“No, no, no, come on.” Jeff waves his hands in front of him.

“Yes! You can run and hide from a dude with a knife. Imagine 100 birds divebombing you. How do you fight that off? What if they weren’t birds? What about, I don’t know, bees, or…what else flies? BATS! What about a fucking sea of bats. Come on, that would be terrifying.” Eddie shoves Jeff’s shoulder, almost spilling his beer all over him.

“Whatever, man, birds aren’t scarier than Freddy Kruger. That guy shows up in your dreams.” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“I’m not saying birds are scarier. I’m saying Hitchcock laid the foundation for psychological thrillers, and we wouldn’t have what we have today without him.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve walks up to the group while holding a Solo cup filled with beer.

“Steve,” Eddie lights up almost reflexively at seeing the man. “Hitchcock, y’know the director?”

“Oh, like Psycho?” Steve glances at all three men while Gareth and Jeff pass a knowing glance to each other.

“Yes, yes! Like Psycho.” Eddie beams.

“Why don’t you explain to Steve how Hitchcock is the godfather of horror.” Jeff squeezes Eddie’s shoulder and then nods to Gareth.

“Yeah, man.” Gareth lifts his cup, and he and Jeff turn and walk away, leaving Eddie and Steve alone in the corner.

“They just don’t get it.” Eddie rolls his eyes and shifts his weight on his feet to lean against the wall. “Glad you could make it, man.”

“Yeah, said I would. Robin’ll be happy I left Chad at home.” Steve raises his eyebrows while taking a sip of his drink.

“Ha, yeah, yeah. Have you seen her yet?”

“Oh yeah, she’s out in the hallway playing pin the tail on the donkey, but it’s some dude wearing bunny ears. I think she’s just enjoying stabbing someone with pushpins.” Steve chuckles and shifts his body to lean toward Eddie, getting them closer.

“I bet that’s Josh. That dude is a fucking masochist.”

Steve laughs. “What?”

“Yeah, he owns way too many paddles to be healthy. I’m so glad he’s not my roommate. I can hear shit coming from that room enough being three doors down as it is.” Eddie holds his cup to his chest.

“Wait? Are you serious?” Steve steps forward.

“Yeah, needless to say, I don’t want to hear anyone utter the word ‘mommy’ ever again.”

“Oh my god, that’s priceless. I’m more of a daddy man myself.” Steve smirks and looks across Eddie’s room at the crowd of people.

Eddie clears his throat and shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “Uh, right, yeah… Daddy.”

The word comes out more gravely than he’d like, so he tries to cover it up by rubbing his hand over his mouth. Steve’s head snaps to face Eddie, and it looks like he’s seen a ghost. His eyes are wide, and his mouth parts slightly with a sigh. The color of his face pales, looking like it dropped to his neck, which is now bright red.

“What?” Eddie’s trying not to be freaked out by the look Steve is giving him.

“No-nothing, um,” Eddie sees Steve’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallows hard. “Nothing.”

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he looks at Eddie, more like inspecting the man. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eddie pulls himself back, trying to put space between them.

“No, um, I’m not…” Steve blinks multiple times and then forcibly tries to relax. “I wasn’t, nothing. Um, so how-how have you been? We haven’t hung out in a while.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest, and Eddie can see Steve’s fingers shaking around the cup he’s clutching.

“Yeah, you’ve been busy, I guess. Things are good; I got a job at that used music store. Y’know the one on McKinley that has books and games and shit?” Eddie relaxes a little at the change of topic.

“Oh yeah? That’s cool. They have all those weird toys and collectibles and stuff, right?” 

“Yeah, yep, that’s them. It’s been fun, only a couple of weeks, but it’s not too bad. Better than coming home smelling like grease or coffee.” Eddie finishes his drink and looks down into the empty cup.

“That’s great; yeah, I’ll have to come by sometime when you’re working. Check it out. How’s um, what was his name, um, Zach?”

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly. There’s no way Steve forgot Zach’s name; they were on the same basketball team.

“We broke it off weeks ago, dude.”

“Oh, I didn’t…what happened?” Steve runs his fingers through his hair.

“It just didn’t work out. He’s kind of a dud.” Eddie rubs the toe of his shoe across his rug and drops his gaze. “There was someone else I was into, but that sorta fell through. It doesn’t matter. I think I’m gonna be single for a while. I’m over all the shit anyway.”

“Who was the…? What happened with the other person?” Steve chews on his bottom lip while keeping his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“He’s um…” Eddie spins one of his rings around his finger anxiously. “It doesn’t matter, but you’re doing good, huh? That big dude.” Eddie swallows hard and drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face.

“Oh, Chad? Yeah, but y’know, it’s not anything serious or whatever. Just wasting time, I guess. He’s a nice guy, though. Just not really my type.” It’s Steve’s turn to drop his gaze as they continue to avoid direct eye contact.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks noncommittally.

He rotates his body to lean against the wall, shifting his cup to hold it between his hands.

“We don’t really have a lot in common. I tried to talk to him about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and he kept asking me why the order was such a big deal. I kept trying to explain that that’s the point. Robin said I should keep him around and use him as my subject for my Psych final.” Steve smiles and shakes his head.

“Why do you hang out with him then?”

“Well,” Steve hesitates a moment before continuing. “Honestly, I was just wasting time. There was someone else…but they were seeing someone.”

Eddie nods and tries to look at Steve through his periphery before Robin comes barrelling toward them.

“STEVE! I love this song. Come dance with me.” She grabs her best friend’s hand and pulls him toward her.

“See you later?” Steve implores.

“Yeah, Harrington. Have fun.” Eddie smiles and gives Robin a wink before the best friends disappear in the pulse of other dancers.

part 3

#just a couple of idiots #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #will be 4 parts #i will post to ao3 once complete #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

[aita-blorbos]

[AITA for not wanting to save some lady I met less than 6 hours ago who almost got me eaten by a huge snake?]

So I [18M] have been wandering for a long while looking for Giacomo [50M? i think?] to kill him for killing my grandfather. I end up on this one rustic island and get knocked out, this doctor saves me and gets me back on my feet. But I'm still pretty focused on the "killing Giacomo" thing, y'know?

So when I go to leave the village after promising the mayor I wouldn't go into the obviously super evil woods (To be fair I wasn't gonna until he said something) I see this blond chick with two bodyguards head towards the evil forest. I don't like to think I'm super nosy, but she seemed weird so I followed. I was gonna go that way anyway.

When I get to the forest, she's already super deep inside. I fight off bats and firecats (annoying) to go deeper into the woods. Things are creepy already, and then I hear some girlish scream. Cool (not).

I run over and bash a beast in the face and turns out Blondie [17F] is the only survivor of her and her bodyguards. We work together to kill the big ass monster trying to kill us BOTH now (plus its horns are pretty valuable if I sell 'em. Too bad Blondie got on my case about it...). She and I talk for a while, I say I'm gonna go, she says wait no come with me blah blah. I'm like, uh fine? But at least take the useful shit off your bodyguards and don't put it to waste! How'd they like it if you died because you didn't wanna take their old magnus? Girl's some kind of stupid, probably. She gives me a bad look but sends their souls off with a prayer (I mean, I feel a little bad...) and we keep going deeper into the forest cuz she says she needs to find something in here. Okay? So weird.

We get all the way to this spooky pond when her weird necklace starts glowing. It shoots a beam of light at the water and it becomes dark and starry. I'm a little freaked out, I'm about to leave because what the hell is she doing, but then a huge water dragon snake thing rips itself out from this tiny pond and attacks us. Cool.

We beat its ass and it drops a weird golden card. I pick it up (obviously?? It might be valuable!) and I get this really weird and awful feeling and these like... light projections of birds fly out from the card and into the sky in all directions. I drop it after she yells at me and I jump away from the water. She takes it (and somehow it doesn't get weird for her????? okay. cool. ugh.) and we're about to leave when Giacomo's empire soldiers drop from the fucking sky, kidnap Blondie, I try to help (I'm not the worst dude ever), I get knocked over the head with a gun and I'm out.

I wake up a few hours later and my head hurts and this bird is squeaking at me. It's Meemai, kinda cute, kind of an asshole. He jumps in my cloak as I get up and I ask my Guardian Spirit what I should do.

(TL;DR for people not from Mira, it's a spirit that helps me with stuff who only talks to me. Weirdly, Blondie also heard it. Whatever.)

The Spirit goes "Go save Blondie!" and I resist. That girl has been NOTHING but trouble! She got me knocked out, tossed around by TWO massive monsters, and now my Spirit wants to go save her? So what, she can get me into MORE trouble? I will be going to where she is being kept to kick Giacomo's ass, but I'm not gonna stick my neck out for some stranger.

AITA? My Spirit says I am, but my Spirit isn't the only person with an opinion in the world.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[im-not-a-l0ser]

The Michie Playlist

Happy Valenties Yall. You may have seen my post about making a Michie Playlist. This is my review of songs already on it, originating from @wildrottingworms michie playlist. Barring Granger Danger (because they told me to) and adding another song, because it fits with another.

Here's the playlist on youtube if you want to follow along, and here it is on Spotify.

Nerdy Prudes Must Die: This is, for me, just on there for the sake that it is literally the song they share. That is the only reason it's on here. Also why it's the first song on here.

Take Me Back: This, however, I have no idea why it's on here! Nevermind, secret relationship michie; I'm an idiot. Okay, yeah, I think I can see it. Especially with them having regrets about keeping it a secret. Like, I'm listening to Tom's verse right now and it's like "oh, Max,, maybe you should've just openly loved Richie back thennn." Becky's verse now, okay. I see it a little less. I like the idea of 'i remember something someone asked me back in school,' being Max saying something like "if we could, would you go to prom with me," because of the following line; I think that's cute. Weirdly enough, I think this'll stay.

First Date/Last Night: Yes, I love this for them. Very cute, very nice. Derek Klena's character for max; perfect.

Blast From the Past: So, uh. I skipped this at first. Because I did not like it. This is the last song of these I've listened to because I am/was putting it off. But here we go i guess. Okay, it's not that bad. It kind of reminds me of Will Wood. But it also makes me realise that the musical Zombie Prom isn't the same as the Wizards of Waverly Place Episode, it seems to be about a single zombie who goes to prom. Which I guess makes sense. I'm keeping it, but it's like. That's all I got from it mostly.

Stupid With Love: So I technically added it, because the reprise was on it, I think it's a little silly to have on here, because I don't think Cady is much like Richie, but I think I'm keeping it for purely after (s)he meets Aron. Like, I've literally put that quote where Cady is essentially fantasising about him in tags about Richie and Max; feels wrong to not include it.

Stupid With Love Reprise: So, listening to it makes me nervous because I haven't actually watched all o Mean Girls the Musical, but it's fine. We're gonna do it anyway. Oh, wait, there's a BMC animatic of this, I've seen this, I'm stupid. Okay. I see why the og put it on here. It is very cute, I love it. I don't know enough about factorials to know if that's actually what you're supposed to do with them, and if it's not then it's hilarious. If it is, then it's like... well, I guess PJ did a good job tutoring Max.

Be Nice To Me: I like this song generally speaking, I never thought of it for Max and Richie, but I'm kind of into it. Like, I might do song fics with some of the songs from this playlist, and this is definitely a high high contender.

Two Birds: Thanks og, you mother fucker. I'm sad now. Luckily, I've already thought of them during this song so I can just skip it.... unluckily, it's already started playing and I can't turn it off now. Thems the rules.

Sex with a Ghost: I don't know why this is on there. It's obviously more of a Jagertity song, but I'm still going to listen to it with their context to see if I can figure it out. Okay, listening. I don't get it. I'll probably keep it because it fucking slaps, but i do not understand why it's on a michie playlist. The only thing I could see is like. 'The only time I ever see her is when she's behind me in the mirror," Because Richie dies in the locker room. But I dunno.

Daft Pretty Boys: I've never heard this song before, so. Right off the bat though, I'm dissapointed that it's not gay. The title makes it sound so gay, but immediately with the she/her pronouns. Maybe I should pull up the Genius Analysis so I can understand better, because I'm just confused. Okay, after checking Genius, I think I understand. I will be keeping it.

Beachboy: Another song I've listened to before, I'm excited to listen to it under Michie context. Like, I could type the lyrics along if I wanted to, I love this song. Yes, this is amazing. Aside from the fact that it's, again, straight, it's absolutely great.

Bloom: We begin the ones where I'm going to have to look up the english translations to these songs. Which I'm fine with, I've listened to all the BSD character songs. It's actually pretty fun to follow along, which is why I'm linking english translations through te name titles, which is why some of the have underlines and others don't. Anyway. HEY SORRY TO BUT IN! APPARENTLY THIS WAS IN SCOTT PILGRIM TAKES OFF! I LOVE SCOTT PILGRIM! ANYWAY BACK TO IT! Okay, upon reading the lyrics, I will say, it makes perfect sense that it was written for Scott Pilgrim, also that I rememer hearing it and taking note of what it was called because I liked it. Basically, on a surface level, it's like 'id like you no matter how many times you change your hair' but I think beneath that, as an overthinker, it's about loving someone even as they're going through changes in their life.

Necromantic: As much as it hurts to face the reality, I am glad that there are some songs on here that represent a realistic relationship for them, and this is definitely one of them. I think I would do a poor job on describing it, just look up the lyrics, you'll see.

Sihouette: Okay, reading the lyrics was a little harder bc I'm listening at home, and my family just got back home from Astronomy Club, so just bare with me. I think it's good, I think we'll be keeping it; I like it I think.

Kuchizuke Diamond: Oh I immediately love the vibes of this. I like this song so much for them that I didn't follow along with the lyrics, I read ahead; I love this. It's so cute for them.

Kawaikute gomen: I'm back and forth whether this applies to them, but it's funny enough that I don't even care. Like Stupid With Love and such. I definitely feel it for them, I just can't explain why.

Zenzenzense: This reminds me of Sonic. Not a bad thing, just a thing. I definitely love this song. It's "Now that we've finally met at galaxies' end, i don't know how to hold your hand so that I don't break it" that got me.

Nandemonaiya: Okay yeah. This got me at Verse 1

Kick Back: Oh my, I'm like flustered reading this. Definitely keeping it for them. Works for whichever pov imo.

Death By Glamour: I do not know why this is here, but as an undertale fan, I'm lowkey here for tho.

Uwa!! So Temperate: Again, I don't know why this is here. But it's like 45 seconds, it's whatever.

Murder On The Dancefloor

You & I: Any song from Bare is gonna make me sad, so I might take them off purely for that reason. But I need someone to cosplay Max with me so we can do a long form tiktok to this song. I'm willing to be Max, actually, yeah.

Best Kept Secret: Any song from Bare is gonna make me sad, so I might take them off purely for that reason. But I need someone to cosplay Max with me so we can do a long form tiktok to this song. I'm willing to be Max, actually, yeah.

This is where the song diverges into songs I've added! To continue, go to the post explaining why I've added those songs! To skip those songs, go to the post about songs that were suggested!

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #richie lipschitz #max jagerman #michie #hatchetfield #the michie playlist #the playlist series

[ironwhoore]

Oh hell yeah!

I’d love to have some angst Nancy x reader thing where they’re complete polar opposites of each other, which leads them to think that they cannot stand each other.

Maybe Nancy is the first one to break out of this? Maybe because reader does something that Nancy would’ve thought was completely out of character for them?

Thanks! Love your works!

yes omfg. i ❤️ nancy wheeler with all my heart.

~~~~~

no fuckin way!

~~~~~

summary: you and nancy are complete opposites. she despises you. but when you risk your life to save her, maybe you’re not so bad.

pairings: nancy wheeler x fem!munson reader. (idk i just thought that would fit, being complete opposites)

warnings: injury

~~~~~~~

“guys i think something’s wrong.” nancy says after literally seeing steve harrington get YANKED THE FUCK under water by something,

“really?” you ask innocently, to which nancy nods, “no fuckin way!” you smile sarcastically which earns a chortle from your brother, and an eye roll from nancy.

“girls you’re both pretty, but dear steve just got snatched, so can we figure out a plan?” robin awkwardly breaks the tension,

“it’s not my fault she’s being a bitch!” nancy exclaims,

“oh-ho! that’s real fuckin rich coming from nancy wheeler.”

“knock it off you guys,” eddie cuts in,

“i’m going to see if steve’s okay, stay here.” nancy demands,

“goodbye princess,” you say sarcastically, waving your fingers. nancy dives underwater and you, eddie, and robin sit there for a good 2 minutes.

“hey do you uh,” you stammer, “you think she’s okay?”

“what you worried about her?” eddie teases,

“it’s not funny eds, she’s been down there awhile.” you respond seriously which makes eddie realize you actually care,

“it’s only been 2 minutes, y/n she’s fine.”

“30 more seconds and i’m going down there.” you promise,

“what?“ eddie looks at you, “you’re not going down there.”

“oh really?” you say standing up on the boat rocking it a bit, “try me.” you start taking off your shoes,

“y/n that’s not funny sit back do-“ too late. you dived in after nancy, the girl who hated your guts. the feeling was mutual you couldn’t complain, but if she died your brother would be to blame. so down you go, you see a faint red light coming from below, you swim farther down and something grabs onto your ankle pulling you down, hard. you try to scream, which wasn’t fucking smart at all as water is now getting in your lungs. but suddenly, you slam into a cold hard ground. groaning as you stand up you hear screaming,

“STEVE!” it was nancy, you turn to look where the voice is coming from, and he was getting choked by some weird ass thing with a tail. you grab an oar that’s on the ground next to you and run towards him, (hearing two other groans from beside you but you dgaf steve the hair harrington is getting choked by an inter-dimensional bat) beating the bat off, steve stands up and grabs it by its tail, steps on it and rips it in half. you get to nancy’s side,

“oh my fucking god, are you okay?” you pant,

“what?” she says, genuinely confused why you’re asking her if she’s okay,

“are you okay? you didn’t get bit or anything did you?”

“what?” she repeats, “n-no i didn’t. why are you all down here? i told you guys to stay up there!”

“we were going to BUT y/n here decided to jump off after you being down here for 2 minutes and check on you!” eddie says annoyed, to which you flip him the bird with a sweet smile,

“you act like you didn’t just come in your pants seeing harrington rip that bat in half!”

eddie shuts up quickly after this,

“seriously though, you okay wheeler?”

"ye-yeah i'm fine," she takes a breath in, "i'm fine, did you really come down here to check on me?" nancy asks with a confused face,

"i know you think i'm a piece of shit but I'm not that bad."

"yeah, yeah you aren't."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

reblogs are appreciated!!!

#nancy wheeler #ironwhoore #stranger things #eddie munson #nancy wheeler x reader #steve harrington #robin buckley

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 5 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and now featuring @tammykelly

Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

Lovely Readers! You can now follow the tag # Wicked Johnson Fic to follow along more easily! ❤❤❤

Johnwickb1tsch:

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

You sit there for a good few minutes--- letting yourself just feel and realise what has happened.

No, because you realise it now-- so much has happened, you have sort of developed a temporary immunity to it all. A coping mechanism for your mind.

That is what it does when things go very wrong very quickly-- bolt out of the blue? Worry not, you won't even register it properly.

That is how your works, you realise as you slowly begin to dress yourself again. The slick between your thighs is hard to ignore but the ignited desire begins to subdue as you focus on making yourself aware-- really aware of what has happened.

John's words regarding Bradford felt like a promise and as you realise that he is gone, you fear he has gone after the agent.

You hope and pray that he is not as impulsive as you consider him to be because, with your time spent with Bradford, you have come to know of two things-- one, he is very resourceful, and second, he is no fool. He is an exceptionally intelligent, stubborn man-- whom you considered to be moral, almost idealistic. So, his betrayal has come as a shock to you.

You can't swallow it, somehow-- and his actions are not helping either. If John has bribed him and he accpeted-- why is he still messing with them, then?

What does he really want?

He has a family--

You blink.

Teenagers, he said. He isn't that old. Until...

Until he was a college dad or something. He never even mentioned a wife.

You lick your lips dress yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of the room. Finding Tex in the kitchen, you almost call for him.

Almost because you stop.

Baffled at your own instincts.

What are you doing? Don't you miss your previous life? Don't you want to be free again?

You realise you still do but you can't see them hurt. You don't want them hurt, in any way, under any circumstances.

They make you feel like a battlefield-- a battlefield for your mind, heart and body. You just stare on, lost in thoughts and questions. But Tex senses your presence.

"Sit down, accidentally added an extra egg to my omelette." He says while plating an omelette and bringing it to you-- it does not look like an accidental extra, but you chose not to comment. "Why aren't you sat?" He asks with a tilt of his head, but amusement is dancing in his orbs.

And he's back at his assholery again, just when you begin to think of him as 'not too bad'.

You sigh, too many thoughts running around to even try wiping off that annoying smirk out of his unfairly gorgeous face. You simply steel yourself and sit down-- refusing to give him the satisfaction of any reaction from you. You grind your teeth in silence, tensing up at the ache when you feel the cushioned surface against your clothed rear-- at least it isn't only wood-- that would have been way more painful. But it still hurts. Yet, you don't show it.

You've had enough of their games. Whatever they are doing, you realise that they are, perhaps winning at it. You were going to warn Tex about Bradford? You don't want John to go after Bradford-- and the first reason you think of is 'What if it's a trap'? And not 'What if Bradford dies?'

This change concerns you. You still haven't decided what you wish to do. Tell them that Bradford's actually too young to have teenagers? Are they foolish enough to not cross-check? You decide on a different approach.

"Where did John go?"

The question comes off in low, uncertain whisper, but Tex is already seated beside you with his own plate.

When did he even do that?

Tex raises an eyebrow and scoffs but holds your gaze for a moment.

"You're not worried about that agent, are ya?"

His ability to guess your thoughts (partially, to your fortune) catches you off guard and of course, it shows on your dumb face as he smirks. This time though, it does not seem as playful as before. This time, it puts you on edge as you let out a measured breath, feeling more alert than you have been in John's silent presence before.

"No--I...." You almost spill out the truth, before breaking the eye-contact and getting some hold on yourself "I was just...wondering."

"Don't worry, he went to get you somethin' to wear, so that you don't keep dirtying ours."

Your hold on the spoon tightens at that jab. It's lighter than most of his earlier ones but it somehow irks you to a certain point of burn.

You assume he is clever enough to not give you a fork because, at the moment, you want to poke him with one.

"I'm done."

You declare curtly before letting your spoon fall on the plate and pushing it away. You need some time away from their overpowering presence, you need your sanity, your rationality intact, after all.

Rising from your seat, you rush towards the bedroom with the hope of some solitude. You need that.

Tammykelly:

You barely get to the bedroom on the second floor, the forever lingering ache between your legs and anger in your heart not letting you think about anything else but a much needed distraction.

This bastard is fucking diabolical, you think to yourself, hoping the negative energy of your denial will give strength to your knees and outweigh how much your body is screaming at you to take care of the little, annoyingly loud problem created by Tex. God, they’ve trained you well.

After you’ve freshened up in the master bathroom, you sit down in a big armchair, next to the bed, still feeling frustrated, though mostly at yourself and the hopelessness of your situation.

You glance around the room once again, remembering where they’ve locked their tools, including knives that you’re pretty sure are sharp enough to cut through anything with ease. You lean back, lost in thoughts, letting your back rest against the soft cushion. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing pattern, after a while feeling like your body reflexes have started to calm down and the blood in your veins has acquired breath of its own, as you begin to watch yourself, as if from the third person pov.

The shrunken space of your focus seems to have been expanded, simultaneously, the room seems to have been sealed in a vacuum bubble, it’s just you and the memory of where the knives lay. You get up with determination, feeling confident enough to try anything within the boundaries of what’s allowed but timid enough to be mindful about possible consequences.

You can surely just look at them, they won’t punish you if you don’t use them.

You think about an array of ways how you’d break the lock before opening the cabinet, and run your fingers over the blades that you know could easily cut you in half through the application of force necessary to do so. You take one out, studying it, as if trying it on, wondering how much this razor-sharp knife has seen and will witness. You twirl it around, pondering whether you’d be brave enough to use it if the opportunity arises. You feel almost mesmerised by it, neither hearing anything, apart from the ringing in your ears, nor seeing anything, apart from your reflection on the blade.

“You’re sure you know how to handle it?” - a deep breathy voice comes from behind. You jump, almost dropping the knife, your eyes meet John’s obsidian ones, boring into you, making you feel like you’re being poked by the needles that lay in the cabinet next to the knives.

“Be careful not to cut yourself, rattlesnake”, - an amused voice adds and you watch Tex step into the room, as your cheeks flush red. “We were wondering how come it’s so quiet up here”, - he adds, not breaking the eye contact.

“I was napping” - you blurt out, quickly putting the knife down, nervously watching John walk closer in a lazy, almost calculating manner only a predator uses when the prey has been caught in a trap.

You catch his movements until he’s standing behind you, his chest touching your back, his arms on either side of you, capturing you in a cage that is his strong body against your frozen one. You look over to Tex and notice him leaned against the wall, watching you two with curiosity.

Fuck

John picks up the knife you’ve previously chosen and holds it in front of you, his lips close to your ear, his voice so dangerously low, you swear he sounds like he’s about to devour you in one bite.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” he nonchalantly whispers, sending cold shivers down your spine, his lips inch closer, “since you’re so curious about it”. You pray he doesn’t feel the deafening thumping of your heart.

“I was…just…uh…”, - words barely escape your dry throat. You hear Tex walk over and it makes you feel even more on the razor edge that is a mouse trap of your relationship with these men. You feel Tex’s fingers under your chin, when he pulls your face to look up at him.

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” - he clicks his tongue. His glimmering eyes shine with built-up darkness lay beneath, a hint of disappointment flashes through it when you don’t reply, “all talk, no action?”

Tex is akin to a fiery pit, predictably unpredictable in the sense that you have an idea of what to expect of him - stand too close and you get burned, bite too hard and you get splashed back with fire. But when you watch the flames, especially when he doesn’t notice you studying him or pretends not to, there’s a strangely comforting warmth to him, flickering through the coal cracks of his man-child nature. John, on the other hand, is akin to an abyss, swallowing you whole with his presence. He’s dangerous in a way that a calm untamed tiger is, for even domesticated, it still remains a threat at all times. You don’t see what’s beneath all the layers of what he masterfully conceals and you’re not sure you should want to find out how much of a predator he actually is.

“Make your choice” - you hear John’s raspy voice bring your attention back to him.

“What?” - you blink, your mind going over multitude of possibilities this could play out. Tex takes the knife out of the other man’s hands.

“Who do you prefer show you how to use it?” - he explains, but his expression says anything but teaching you about self-defence. You feel John protectively wrap around you and you don’t need him to say it. If Tex does anything out of line, this playground will become everything a human would fear to step into. You can see that the feeling’s mutual, in the way Tex glares at John.

Maybe this is the code to freedom, let them prey on each other.

Tex’s eyes move to yours, seeing the way you lean into the man behind you.

“Oh, you think Johnny boy will save you?”- he chuckles darkly, “dream on”, he tells you before motioning for John to bring you over to the bed. Your heart drops.

They sit you down on the bed, both of them circling you, akin to eager hawks, ready to rip apart and devour anything in their sight. Suddenly, you feel John’s hands lock yours in a tight grip behind your back, which makes panic arise in your chest.

“The fuck you’re doing?” - you want to sound mad but the voice that comes out of your mouth sounds like it belongs to someone else caught in a web of pretence and lies. Tex waves his hand for you to keep your mouth shut.

“You forget your place, rattlesnake”, - he laughs, though not an ounce of warmth strikes you, just sharp fire burns.

“You’re a fucking asshole”, - you growl lowly, looking him right in the crazed eyes, while John shifts to a more comfortable position to hold you still.

Bastard

“Touché”, - Tex brings his face close to yours, his hot breath on your skin making you flinch, “Biting won’t help, darlin’, you’re forgetting who you’re up against”, he finishes, placing the cold blade on your cheek before you start protesting, and moving it down your jawline, throat, collarbones and stopping at the hem of your shirt, tantalised, watching the way your chest rapidly rises and falls. He’s so gentle with it, though, but his eyes tell you he could switch up in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, John”, - Tex breaths out and doesn’t wait for either of you to reply, grabbing the fabric and making the blade slide through it with lightning speed like butter. Your wide open eyes look at him with shock, only now noticing John pressed up against your back, like an unmoving statue. You lean back, wiggling your body, seeing how hard it is for Tex to resist touching you with his hands. He extends his arm to place the knife onto your skin.

“Don’t fucking touch me”, - you glare up at him, which makes a loud bark of a chuckle escape his lips, though he doesn’t stop. You begin to shake your head and move your body, knowing he won’t do anything in this case, as not to hurt a single strand of hair on you, for John might kill him right then and there with that said knife, otherwise. Abruptly, your body freezes when Tex’s calloused hand find its place around your neck, urging you to hold your anger in and to look up at him.

“You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” - he growls, his fingers tight around your throat, “you can’t keep playing the game you can’t win”, he smiles, placing the blade in the centre of your breastbone, the coldness of steel arising goosebumps throughout your body. Your eyes lock on his, studying the way he’s holding back the desires that will leave him hanging onto the thread of life had he acted upon them. You want to believe he’d never hurt you but you never know how far his self control and possible feelings for you can contain the boundaries of his flames.

Is it your or John’s power over him?

Tex’s knee moves in between your legs, inching closer to where you needed him when he bent you over downstairs what feels like an eternity ago. But your body responds in raging flames, lit up by the myriad of matches that are the manifestation of his power over you.

His fingers inch the razor-sharp steel closer to the centre of your neck, so infinitely slow you think you might die just from waiting for what comes next.

And what comes next is John’s lips on your skin, your temple, behind your ear, on your shoulder, his tongue tasting the heat, engulfing your body, the effect of which comes off in a form of a shuddered breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Tex moves the blade up until it reaches your mouth, keeping it there, until you get the hint. You stare at his darkened, ravenously glowing eyes. You feel one of John’s hands come up gliding over your body up to your neck, tilting your head up, as he’s shifting his weight so you can look up into his eyes. The look you’re met with is not the one you were hoping to see, for instead of a soft and gentle one, your gaze gets sucked in by a black hole that is a pair of nearly jet-black, hungry, unmoving and barely patient eyes.

“Sorry, baby”, - John rasps.

You open your mouth, falling deeper into his void, before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, as your breath and racy heartbeat warn you to steady yourself before gradually coming back to a stable pace, as you lay in bed.

You listen in to the sounds of an awfully quiet house, making you wonder whether you’ve been left alone after all. The clock arms ticking rhythmically, blending in with the soft, almost faint whirring of the bedroom mini fridge where the boys keep cooled bottled water for you. The sound of electricity inside the walls and static in your ears suddenly becoming louder once you focus on it instead of the faint noise of the outside world. You look around, chasing the frisky sunset light, playing on the space around you through the cracks between the slightly moving curtains. You glance at expensive looking boutique shop bags standing near the wall. For the first time you pay attention to the way the colour palette of the place is almost seamlessly blended by the dreamy fog, though you’re not sure if it’s the floating in sunlight specks of dust or your own blurry vision, for you’d just woken up from your nap. You raise your hand to cover your eyes when the sunlight makes its way onto your face, then close your eyelids, folding your hands on your lap, letting yourself bask in the vague warmth. You take a deep breath in, your senses catching a very indistinct smell of the fresh evening air, when the wind outside blows through the trees, the rustling of which you can catch a sonic glimpse of, fresh laundry and the scent of your shampoo.

But the smell of two men pervades you the most, you can practically taste the last night with John and today’s morning with Tex on your tongue and skin. You’re sure you smell like them by now, akin to a cat acquiring the smell of its owners over time, becoming one with the small nuclear tribe. It’s shamefully intoxicating how well they’ve imbedded themselves onto your body and into your mind, molding a new, unrecognizable version of you, so perfectly suited for their needs.

And you’re sure they like everything about it, especially the way they can smell themselves off you, like you belong to them, cooped up in this place away from prying eyes, their $5 million secret, just for them to play with and ravish. You can feel it sometimes through the way they touch you when passionate waves are mercifully on hold, replaced by the monumental promise of another outburst. You remember the way their fingers linger on your skin a bit too long, the way they hug you close to their bodies late at night when they think you’re too fucked out to notice - John - in a protective embrace, Tex - more on the possessive side.

The way John gently brushes your hair after blow drying it and resists leaning in to smell your freshly showered self, for every time you can feel the heat of his body getting close to you and, regrettably to your disappointment, pulling away at the last moment. The way Tex traces his own bites and hickeys on your skin when you’re in the bathtub with him or glides his fingertips over them under the covers, thinking your blissfully unaware self doesn’t feel his surprisingly delicate leisure wandering. The way neither of them want to leave the bed in the early hours of the morning, too entranced by your warmth and the feel of your body against theirs. The way one day you made each of them sigh in surprise when you’d pulled them closer, praying they explain it as your sleepy subconscious making the decisions for you, when, in reality, it was you pulling the strings of blurry lines in between sanity and conscience mistake of trying to savour their comfortingly strong bodies. You couldn’t decide which one of the duo was worse. John, who treats you like a gentleman but often fucks you disrespectfully, or Tex, who annoyingly makes every particle of your body and soul boil in every sense possible.

You tip your head back, eyelids closed, taking deep breaths in to calm your heart and mind. You have no idea how long it’ll take for the masks of sanity to slip, revealing the true nature of those men. Whatever sanity means anymore in this situation. You start feeling like their influence on you begins to seep beyond physical form.

Suddenly, you hear John quietly calling out to you: “Y/n. You here?”

Your eyebrows slightly twitch, as your eyes open to the starry sky above the balcony where you and John are standing next to one another.

“It’s like you were just here and then you were gone”, - he chuckles, his voice soft and comfortingly deep.

Fuck, the mask’s slipping.

You take a long look at him before smiling, his eyes so gentle, you almost [want to] believe he’s not faking it for you.

It’s time for a cat to come out and play with fire.

“Hi”, - you tell him, reaching your fingers out to him, finding it so irresistibly hard not to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear when you see him admiring the perfect way the clothes he’d bought hug your body, as if tailored to your exact measurements but you don’t delve into it deeply for the sake of your sanity. “Hey”, - John replies, letting your hand slip back, not showing you how much he wants to catch it and kiss it.

The serenity of the passing intimate lace comes crumbling down when Tex cheerfully comes up from the back and hugs you from behind, loudly leaving a wet trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, so casually mundane, as if he’s been doing this for years.

“What are you two whispering about?” - he inquires, not removing his lips off you. “Certainly not you”, - you tease. “You don’t like me?” - he mumbles back. Now it’s your turn to laugh: “Why should I? This is just a transaction, no?”

Instead of pulling away, Tex grips you harder: “Aw, my rattlesnake, I was about to say how sweet you are when you don’t bite”.

“Thought you liked it?” - you let him feel you lean into him, which he eagerly reciprocates. “Oh, is that why you do it? You do it for me?” - he asks, as you turn around in his arms, tilting your face up, batting your eyelashes. “Dream on”, - you reply before breaking away from his embrace.

You walk over to the balcony sofa, sinking into the big pillows in a relaxed way that exudes you’re not afraid of either of the two. You let yourself be watched by their intense gazes, shamelessly scanning you up and down, as you throw one leg over the other. Moments pass before you speak again.

“I can’t quite crack the code”, - you tell them in the most couldn’t-care-less tone, “what is it that you get out of this? Apart from the obvious”. You trace your body with your fingers, John’s eyes on yours and Tex’s following your silhouette.

Tex is the first to reply: “You said it yourself, this is just a transaction”.

“Is it really?” - you inquire in a way that it sounds more like a statement.

“Why do you wanna know?” - Tex responds, keeping his eyes trailed on you.

You lean further into the cushions, trying to sound as innocuously as possible. “To manipulate you, of course”.

Silence hangs in the air, making your cheeks grow redder, though you hope they can’t tell under the starlight. Tex walks closer to you, saying: “Don’t get ideas into that pretty head of yours”, he grabs your face with one hand, “wouldn’t want you to get burned, mhhmm?”

You swallow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it”, - you tell him, holding the eye contact. Unexpectedly, Tex does nothing but lets you go and walks to the chair, near John. It makes you uncomfortable, their watchful eyes not leaving an ounce of your conscience not feeling exposed.

“What game are you playing at?” - John finally speaks up, his voice so quiet you know he’s not playing games with you anymore.

“Nothing”, - you simply say, your gaze locked on his. Hiding in plane sight, you think. Instead, you continue: “I can’t outplay the player when I got no game, yeah?”

Tex snorts: “Oh, you definitely do have game”, eyeing you. You turn your attention to him, scoffing just like he did: “Clearly, if that’s what you wanna call it”.

“I just want a lock in my room”, you add.

“My, my, Johnny boy, she not only bites but wants to have leverage over us”, - Tex chuckles.

“How’s having a lock mean leverage?” you bat your lashes.

Okay, playing dumb it is.

Tex doesn’t make you wait for his reply: “It’s not about the lock. It’s about access”.

Got you, you say to yourself.

“I’m sure other hunters, like you two, would just love that, access at all times”, - you muse, looking from one man to the other.

“We won’t let that happen”, - John’s stern whisper comes.

“Mhmhm, sure, with $5 million on the line”, - you shrug. You catch Tex’s eyes.

“Dream on, babygirl”, - he muses back.

You sigh, getting up, making your hips sway just a tiny bit more than usual. Your arm gets caught in Tex’s strong grip. “What are you doing?” - he growls, as you turn to look up at him. You look behind him at John, then back at the man in front of you. “Take a wild fucking guess”, - you retort. Tex steps closer, cornering you further to the glass door, leading into the house. “Use your pretty mouth like that, I won’t care if you’re sore or not anymore”, - he smiles sickly sweet, making your stomach turn. You ignore him and connect your eyes with John’s, who holds the same expression, not much different from Tex’s, letting you see in that moment, how titillated he is by you.

You’re fucked and you’ve walked right into it.

“Let me guess, “dream on”?” Tex mocks you, placing a hand on the glass, near your face.

You work up a smile, though you hope they can’t see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Aren’t you boys coming?” you purr, before wiggling your way out of Tex’s arms. The men look at each other before following suit, exchanging malevolent glances.

The code is crackable. For it’s not the “how” but the question of who’ll be the first to crack.

Tex. John. Or you.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Goddamnit. Where is the motherfucking pancake batter? Does John not have PANCAKE BATTER in his goddamn house? What are you supposed to do? Make pancakes from scratch? Fuck.

Your internal thoughts are being monologued by a sailor, apparently - and he’s in a shit mood. You woke up lying in vacant sheets, minus either of your human heaters, shivering in the conditioned air.

Your bargain was simple, or at least you thought so - they could keep the temp at 62 degrees in this room (psychos) if they both slept beside you and warmed you cozy. So, when you found out they were gone and didn’t even bother to pull a blanket over your naked body in their haste to leave - okay, maybe it was actually you that kicked the comforter off, but you’re still gonna blame them - you got heated, and not in a good way.

Pretty soon, and far too late, you realized that you felt abandoned without them snuggling you like two big, bed hogging dogs, and that made you much more angry because… Well. If you’re being honest with yourself, you are far too attached to these men. In too deep. “Dug up more snakes than you can kill,” as Tex would say. You can barely function when they’re not around. So much for strong, independent woman. You’re a whitehead on the face of feminism.

And now you can’t even make pancakes. Out of frustration, you slam a cupboard shut and bustle a carton of eggs off the counter. And, of course, they land face down with the top open wide. “Fuck. Me.”

“Bad day?”

You spin on your heel, hip catching the counter painfully, although you barely register the sting, too busy clenching fists at your sides from the immediate recognition of that voice. You glare at Bradford, lip curling into a little snarl, the rattlesnake in you coming to bat. “It is now,” you snap.

Bradford sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t be like that. I told you I’d protect you, y/n, and that’s what I’m here to do.”

You burst into a crazed giggle fit, fists clutching at the sundress fabric over your belly, eyes watering from the sheer audacity of fucking men. It takes you a minute to collect yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you pompous asshole.” You’re still smiling at him, that little leftover sanity and hope slipping right through your fingers and landing in a sticky puddle with the smashed eggs.

He frowns, hands jammed into his pockets, this stupid look of concern coming over his face that makes you want to choke it right off. “Listen, y/n, whatever they did to you - however they hurt you - it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here to take you away and undo all this shit they’ve put in your head.”

“You think that’s going to work on me after what you did?!” You hardly recognize your own shrill screech, don’t realize you’re jamming a finger into his chest until your toe to toe with him. “They might be assholes and manipulators, sure, Bradford, but you-“ You poke his sternum hard, make him wince and love that pained look on his face more than you should - “you’re much fucking worse. Because at least they care about something other than themselves.”

His expression is one of pity, like he’s looking at an abused, bite happy dog about to be put down. “You think they care about you?” His voice is quiet, sympathetic, overly kind, it makes your stomach turn. “Oh, sweetheart-“

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mock, the acid in your body leaking and bubbling from your throat. “Do me a favor and get out. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

He seems entirely unaffected by you. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

You feel a tiny sting in your shoulder, look down to see a needled splinter sticking out, reach to pull it free, but it’s far too late, because your hand doesn’t work. And neither do your legs. You black out before landing face first into the eggs.

They’ve got you trussed up again. Pretty silk ropes dimple your skin. John finishes the knots on your thighs, fingers tickling lazily over the fabric and making you squirm and whine. “Comfy?” He asks, kissing your cheekbone and smiling at you.

You nod, pull at your bonds, become thrilled when you realize you’re not going anywhere. You wiggle your toes, testing circulation by gauging feeling to your digits. Perfect, as always. John’s handiwork is unmatched. And you are absolutely drenched and throbbing by the time he gets done tightening his last little tie.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose into your hairline. You shudder and giggle, melting under that praise he has grown fond of giving. His balmy voice gets your toes curling instead of flexing.

Tex comes back into the room with the bottle of sandalwood and vanilla oils. It smells heavenly and makes you clench hellishly as he works it into his bulky palms and grins at his favorite girl. “You ready for that massage, pumpkin?”

Something slams violently close to your ear, startling you out of the dreaming memory, making you gasp and flinch. You can’t go far, because you’re handcuffed to a metal chair. Hands and feet. Too tight. Fingers and toes already numb and cold. Your face feels sticky and itchy. Metal scrapes metal in a terrible symphony that jabs behind your eyes and gets them open.

You’re in a white, windowless room, far from John and Tex, but close to agent Bradford. He’s smiling now, pleased about something, leaning over the silver table to examine your face. “That’s a nasty bruise, kid,” he says, pointing to his own forehead. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you.”

You scowl at him. “Yeah, whatever.” Your head does hurt, though, and you feel like you’ve been run over by a monster truck again. Still, that fire in you doesn’t seem to want to die, and you’re incredibly grateful for whatever miracle furnace is fueling it. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here? Or just stare at me like a fucking creep?”

He chuckles. “Do you know where you are?”

“Oh yeah,” you spit, “I definitely remember this windowless white fucking room from good times growing up.” Rolling your eyes hurts more than you think it will.

“You’re under possession of the FBI, y/n, and if I were you, I’d be grateful we didn’t just hand you over to the Bratva ourselves. Because they would have done much worse to you than we’re about to do.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

As your mind clears from the drugs Bradford gave you, you start to think a bit more critically about your situation. The fact that he has taken you hostage without the fanfare of an official FBI raid suggests he's still working under the radar. He must have baited your boys with some convincing ruse to make them both leave the house.

"You should really do yourself a favor, and return me to them," you advise. You flex against the cuffs, trying to get circulation. They really are too tight, and you can't help but compare it to the careful way John always bound you. Who is the bad guy here? All the lines have blurred.

"I can't help but notice you're not asking to just be let go."

It's a development that surprises you too, but you don't feel like analyzing it right now. All you know is that you miss them, like a crucial piece of your heart has been plucked from you. And maybe it's fucked up, but you want the man responsible to pay.

"I'm not as stupid as you are, apparently. Don't you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Tex Johnson, former Marine, dishonorable discharge in his first tour of Iraq, turned Hollywood stunt man and mafia hitman. John Wick is harder to put a thumb down on. Bogus birth certificate, it's doubtful it's his real name. He was probably trafficked into the country as a child from the Soviet Union by one of the syndicates. He's been associated with various underworld groups since he was a teen."

This was, in fact, way more than you knew about your boys, but you were loathe to admit it.

"What I mean, is if you keep this up you're a dead man walking. They'll do anything to get me back."

"It sounds like you want them to get you back."

"At this point? I like them a lot better than you."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty cozy there. I think you have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome."

The thought of this man, of all people, moralizing at you and basically calling you mentally ill, pisses you off even more.

"Did you know Stockholm Syndrome is a bullshit diagnosis favored by law enforcement, invented by two male psychologists to describe a woman who had been in a hostage situation, who they had never even met? She was held hostage by a bank robber in Sweden, and as she watched the police completely bungle the situation she was afraid they would come charging in and kill everyone in a hail of bullets. She advocated for a more peaceful solution that didn't involve her getting shot, and was branded as neurotically sympathetic to her captor for it. But you've been through Quantico. You should already know this."

Bradford frowns down at you, and your inconvenient penchant for facts.

"Alright, smarty pants, be that way. But when the media gets a hold of you after this, you're going to want something to blame, believe me."

"How about you, you crooked son of a bitch?"

"Me? I'm going to be the agent who single handedly brought down the Nobokov Bratva, two wanted contract killers, and saved their hostage. I'll be a hero."

"What about the money you took?"

"Playing a role, all part of my master plan."

He smirks at you, letting you know that at least some of that money is not going to make it into evidence.

"Wait...isn't Dmitri Nobokov dead?"

"As a doornail. But his son is still around, and he wants blood."

You think about this a moment.

"And you're using me as bait?"

"Now you're catching on. You've got a date with Igor Nobokov tonight."

"And you're counting on...them all killing each other?"

"Something like that."

You just laugh.

"Right? I think it's funny too."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"No?"

"No. I'm laughing because my boys are going to fucking kill you all."

You find that you truly believe it, to the marrow of your bones.

Bradford just smirks. "We'll see."

You certainly would.

His phone starts ringing, and he reaches into his pocket for it. "Bradford."

"Well hello, Agent Dipshit."

"Tex. Thought you'd never call."

gif by johnswick

Just hearing his ridiculous, stupid, wonderful voice, even tinny through the phone, sends a wave of relief through you.

"Gotta say, I took you for smarter than this."

"How you figure?"

"You're an FBI hotshot with a fancy degree. I'm sure you've got a profile on me. Narcissistic psychopath, is what Uncle Sam told me. That means there aren't many things in this world I care about outside of yours truly, but you've managed to take one of 'em from me. Can't say that bodes well for you."

"I guess that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Johnson."

"Proof of life?"

"She's right here. Say hello, y/n."

Glaring at Bradford, you speak into his outstretched phone. "Tex, it's a trap!"

Bradford reaches out to smack you in the mouth, staring you down.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

For a moment there is a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"My turn. Say hello, Mrs. Bradford."

Bradford's face goes white as a sheet. "Anthony? I'm scared. Please, just do whatever they say."

"Veronica? It's going to be ok, honey, just stay calm. If you fuckers hurt her so help me God--"

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. All depends on you, son. So listen close."

-----------------

"Who knew this AI shit could be so handy?"

John just nods, utterly stoic, closing the laptop. After feeding multiple insufferable Facebook videos about cooking and keeping house by the lovely Mrs. Bradford through a program, they were able to create a perfect facsimile of her voice, good enough to fool her husband over the phone.

Now Bradford would meet them in a location of their choosing. The advantage was theirs.

Or so they hoped.

Either way, Bradford was dead meat.

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