#like. She thought. he’d have a shitty costume

[traggalicious]

@moiistdirts IT’S HIM ‼️ THE BOY ‼️

[chestharrington]

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything. 

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale. 

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor. 

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead. 

Fuck that. 

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy. 

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory. 

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks. 

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room. 

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine. 

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs. 

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip. 

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name. 

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself. 

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad. 

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat. 

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back. 

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.” 

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.”

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money. 

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County. 

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran. 

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape. 

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough. 

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved. 

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy. 

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. 

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll. 

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented. 

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet. 

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once. 

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman. 

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded. 

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie. 

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. 

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers. 

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.” 

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits. 

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. 

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs. 

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up. 

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered. 

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back. 

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap. 

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased. 

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

   You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath. 

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up. 

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick. 

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense. 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper. 

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand. 

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going. 

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him. 

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him. 

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. 

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care. 

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him. 

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind. 

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless. 

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed. 

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. 

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure. 

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue. 

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk. 

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you. 

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance. 

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy. 

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest. 

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life. 

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again. 

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter. 

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ. 

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him. 

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans. 

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too. 

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again. 

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly. 

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed. 

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all. 

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — sentimental sewing + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, sfw, gn!reader and another domestic katsuki thought for you, he’s good at sewing hehe <3!

being an only child meant that bakugou picked up a lot of random little habits and hobbies to fill up his time — especially when he felt alone. the kids at school weren’t really his friends, they only liked him for his quirk, that he was strong, talented. in truth, katsuki preferred his loneliness compared to faux company of others.

instead of playing out in the sunshine, katsuki would sit by his mother’s feet when she worked from home— piecing together and designing gowns or three piece suits or ambiguous tricks to be worn by famous pro heroes to galas and charity events— sometimes, just because they wanted something nice to wear. mitsuki was a highly sought after designer and seamstress, and katsuki picked up on a lot of her skills just from watching— observing, strategising.

“do you want to try, katsuki?” the elder bakugou had asked him one evening, her hand in his soft blonde hair as she’d passed him his own set of needles and a patch of spare fabric for him to work on. he was much too young to help her with a commissioned gown. “watch yer ma carefully, okay, my love? then you can try again on your own.”

no one would have ever guessed that katsuki bakugou was good at sewing or stitching.

over the years he would patch up his own hero costume after training or a gnarly run in with villains— katsuki was sentimental, he blew up a lot of his own shit but his hero costume was somewhat important to him. he didn’t want it to be replaced. he’d used those skills to stitch himself up when first aid was too hard to get to on covert missions— nothing but a leather belt between his pointed teeth and a needle sterilised with alcohol. mitsuki’s skills had saved his life a few times, he’d be forever grateful to the hag for all of that.

being able to use a needle and thread meant saving money on gifts— or at least that’s what katsuki called it. he’d spend ages embroidering little handkerchiefs or sewing patches onto items he knew his newer and better friends from UA would cherish. they all knew about the blonde’s secret talent, holding back their squeals as they squished him between them all whenever he mumbled.

“i didn’t make it, s’just a stupid customised gift. now get off’a me b’fore i blow your head off!”

but deep down inside, bakugou was pleased to know he could make something of sentimental value for the people he loved— even if it was small, it was thoughtful. he liked that.

“katsuki,” you warble, eyes brimming with tears when you come to bed one night— weakly holding up a scarf he’d gotten you to soothe the chill after one of your first and earlier dates. “‘m sorry!”

you and bakugou had been together for years, finding yourself falling fast and hard after he wound up in your care at the hospital— on the one time his handy little stitches had gotten a wound infected. “whas the matter with you, sweetheart?” he grunts, taking off his glasses and throwing his night time read aside. “you cryin’?”

“n-no…um, yeah? it’s kinda stupid? i wore the scarf you gave me today and i got caught on a stupid tree branch walking home and—?” you hiccup, seconds away from breaking down as you hold the piece of fabric out to your boyfriend. “there’s a hole in it? i swear i didn’t mean for it to happen— i just tried tugging it free and it ripped and—“ sniffling, a pathetic pout sits on your lips. “you got this for me ‘nd i’ve ruined it, i’m sorry kats.”

sentimental. you’re sentimental over a cheap and shitty scarf that bakugou had gotten you on a whim— so that he had an excuse to spend more time with you after your initial date had ended all those years ago. “give it here, I’ll fix it.” he grunts, hiding the flush on his cheeks before he takes the scarf from you and pokes a finger through the hole. “stop cryin’ and grab the sewing kit ma left in the study.”

nodding your head furiously, you do as you’re told with a watery smile and perch yourself on the edge of the bed next to your brooding boyfriend while he patches up your silly scarf with some old fabric and a few stitches. “i didn’t know you could sew, kats.” you breathe happily, clutching the material to your chest after inspecting the cute little embroidered heart katsuki had done all nicely for you. “it’s perfect, thank you.”

“all i did was patch it up sweetheart,” bakugou coos, leaning over your shoulder to brush a half hearted and sleepy kiss over your cheek. “ma taught me, s’how i fixed myself up all botched ‘n badly ‘n ended up in your emergency room, don’t you remember?” he loves the way you squeeze him closer, having sniffed your scarf and realised that it smells like your favourite thing. your favourite person. him.

you’re sentimental, not just with materialistic things, but with your partner. your lover, everything about him is cherished by you.

“i just thought you’d been an idiot, didn’t know you were this talented katsuki,” you say wistfully, allowing the blonde to pull you back into his arms.

[blindseer0]

Echo General Timeline

(Another repost from Twitter from back in February)

I was watching Keith Ballard's Echo playthrough, and at one point they wonder what the ages of the characters are. People responded with a bunch of contradictory answers, so I decided to find out myself. A few disclaimers:

Echo was made over 7+ years with multiple writers. We don’t know how much of the timeline was planned out, what ambiguity is because it’s a horror mystery, and what are errors. Chase also canonly has a shitty memory for dates and ages (he’s just like me, fr).

I’m definitely putting more thought into this than anyone should, and probably more thought than the writers did (or should be expected to). This is largely for fun (and because my brain is “Just Like that” ™) and should not be taken too seriously.

I’ll try to address contradictions, but I hope to go deeper in another thread. I will cover my guesses there as well. If I can’t back it up with a screenshot, it’s not here. If anyone has screenshots of the writers confirming or denying these ages, let me know. Now onto the show:

When Do The Games Take Place?

Echo takes place in 2015, in mid to late March.

Route 65 takes place on November 1, 2008. (This was a Saturday in real life and I was recovering from a Halloween costume wedding at a strip club the night before.)

Chase

Echo: 21

Route 65: 15

Comments: Chase, being the MC, is pretty straightforward. His age is stated in both games, though we never get a birthdate. He’s in the same grade level as Carl, graduated High School in May 2012 and started college in Fall of 2012.

Carl Echo: 20

Route 65: 14

Born: April 1994

Comments: Carl is my favorite because his birthday is a plot point. His 8th birthday party was on April 19th, 2002. That was a Friday (yes, I checked), so it’s possible that was the actual day and not just the party.

TJ

Echo: 19

Route 65: 13

Comments: TJ is also pretty easy, since they state his age in the prologue and Route 65. Chase forgets his age during Leo’s route, but there are enough other scenes (not pictured) that confirm he’d be 19 at this point in the year.

Flynn

Echo: 25

Route 65: 18

Comments: Flynn is established multiple times as the oldest of the group, and his age is stated pretty clearly during his route. Plenty to say about the character (and I will), but not much about his age.

Jenna

Echo: 21-22 (The wiki is wrong and I will fight it)

Route 65: ???

Comments: This is where it gets tricky. Jenna’s age is never stated in either game. However, we get her age during the “Runaway” side story. We also know she’s at least one grade level above Chase and Carl, since she’s graduating college in 2015. Since she was 17 in May 2010, the oldest she can be in March 2015 is 22 (17+5). If her birthday was right before she ran away it’s possible she’s 21, but we know no one has a birthday in March or April, so it’s more likely that she ran away right before she turned 18.

Leo

Echo: Fuck if I Know

Route 65: *Deep Beleaguered Sigh*

Comments: You’d think for someone whose age is a plot point this would be easy, but nope. Leo’s exact age is never actually said during either game. We get clues, which I’ll cover, but nothing as specific as everyone else. The most exact thing we get is a throwaway line in Flynn’s Route that his birthday is probably in February. He’s likely two grades above Chase, since we know he played Football during the 2009 season (which ends in November/December), which would mean he graduated in May 2010.

We do get his age in relation to other people. He’s roughly one year younger than Flynn, and three years older than Micha. Flynn is 25, and Micha is “nearly 21 now!” (which is the type of thing a 19-year-old would say). If we assume Micha is telling the truth and is 20, Leo is 23-24.

If Micha is 20 going on 21 in March 2015, then he was probably 14 in November 2008. If Leo’s birthday is really in February, then he’d have been 17 in Route 65, and 24 in Echo, which are solid answers, but technically guesses because they rely on so much shaky information.

There you go, (mostly) solid ages for all the main characters in Echo. If you have any screenshots from the games or the creators that prove or disprove this thread, please send them my way. Let me know what you think, and if there is anything else you’d want to see.

I’m hoping to do more threads covering the contradictions, when Sydney actually died (and his age), speculation about birthdates, and when Chase was conceived, because I’m a monster.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I hope I made it in time for wip Wednesday!!!! I'd love some of my darling angel neil please!!!

WIP Wednesday (4/24) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 176)

When they get to the seasonal costume shop inside the mall, Andrew is a bit dismayed at the oodles of costumes still clinging to the racks. Because, knowing Nicky, it means they’ll be here all night. He sighs and follows the others inside, picking through the disaster area and finding nothing at all. 

Until his hand grazes a horribly-textured piece of white fabric. He pulls it out by its hanger, wondering what on earth it could possibly be. The photo on the tag shows what it’s supposed to look like and Andrew laughs so hard fears he might piss his pants.

Because... It’s an angel costume. 

A short, toga-esque thing made of shitty polyester, meant to be coupled with a pair of mangy wings and a plastic halo stuck on a headband. Each sold separately, of course. Oh, it is horrendous, funny as it is.

Andrew can’t imagine Neil… 

Oh, wait. He can. Andrew freezes solid at the thought of Neil wearing nothing but this glorified hand towel. Oh shit. It would be short enough to show off his legs and— Andrew glances back down at the photo— it would also expose half of his chest. Fucking hell. 

Andrew shakes his head. He’s not sure if he’d be able to function if his angel dressed like this. Maybe it’s a good thing that Neil is a hoodie-and-jeans sort of guy.

“Oh my god! Is that a sexy angel costume?” Nicky squawks beside him, breaking the daydream and surely doing permanent damage to his hearing.

“I suppose it is,” Andrew shrugs. It would be, but only if Neil was the angel in it. He goes to put it back where he found it but Nicky snatches it up before Andrew can blink. 

“Oh, shit. It’s too small for me,” Nicky pouts, dropping it onto the rack. The relief that flood Andrew’s entire being is short-lived when Aaron pops up behind them.

“They probably have other sizes. Just go ask.” Aaron suggests. Oh, the betrayal. Andrew wants to throttle him for the way Nicky’s face lights up.

“You’re right! I will,” Nicky beams and floats over to the checkout where a girl has been flipping through a magazine since they came in. Nicky returns a moment later, disappointed. “She said all they have is on the floor. No sexy angel for me.”

“Oh pity,” Andrew lies, thanking whatever higher power just saved him from being forced to see Nicky parade around in that getup at Eden’s. He shuffles away from his relatives to see Kevin looking at something that must be a vampire cape. It’s black and lined with red satin, fitting for a Raven. 

However, Kevin will never be a Raven again despite his tendency to gravitate towards their colors. As if reading Andrew’s mind, Kevin drops it like he’s been burned and even wipes his hands on his pants. Andrew gives his quiet approval and goes to find something cheap and simple for himself. He finally finds it in a bin marked $5. And he checks out quickly before leaning against the wall and watching the others scavenge.

[ganbaremidori]

cosmic feelings [iii] h.s

synopsis: after harry fell even deeper for the waitress he’s met only twice, he’s determined to get to know her better at another event, but something happens that changes both of their nights. [also might be shitty i havent rlly written for a while so sorry]

warnings: just a description of assault. 

all this time, because this pretty, pretty waitress has been on his mind, harry had completely forgotten how boring these events were. god, he hopes whichever new up and coming business man there was, they’d never have to suffer through these fancy galas - unless of course, they fell in love with a waitress that works for one. then, harry thinks, then tolerating this ache would be justifiable. but when a particularly large group of men, all dressed in ridiculously expensive suits, walked past; all chuckling and no doubt talking crudely about the scarcely dressed women there - he was reminded of where he was, and how little he had spoken to his girl through the night. 

but he’s not complaining. my god, he’d never complain about this opportunity when less than two days ago, he thought he’d never see her again. but now, there she was, dressed in her waitress costume, buzzing around with trays serving everyone. 

his eyes constantly followed her figure around like a hawk, and at one point he worried that she’d notice him staring at her like a creep. so then he’d break his one-sided eye contact and take a sip of his drink. but less than 5 second later, he’d find himself searching for her again. oh how badly he wanted to scoop her up and tell her how he felt and never let her go. how badly he wanted to give her everything he has to offer, in the hopes that she’d let him stay by her side. 

he saw her disappear behind the bar for the nth time that night, and sighed. looks like he’s gonna have to wait for her to come back again. and then he decides: the next time she comes close to his table, he’s gonna make up some bullshit excuse to talk to her again. hell, he’d even stay in this stupid event until it ends so that he gets to properly introduce himself. except the opportunity never comes. usually from his observation his pretty little waitress would disappear behind the bar at most for 5 minutes, before she’d burst through the doors balancing new trays. but it’s been almost 15 minutes and she hasn’t come out. 

harry frowns. why hasn’t she come out yet? 

sighing and getting up, harry dusted off the invisible dust from his pristine trousers before deciding to go to the bathroom. instead of sulking like an old grump or being around these gaudy idiots, it’s better to spend time inside a bathroom until he comes out and finds y/n again. 

ah, y/n. such a pretty name. stunning, just like her. 

with a small smile at the thought of her, harry heads towards the bathroom. he’s near the mens when he first hears it. it sounds like a plea, a whine and then a lower, rougher voice saying ‘shut up’. he rolls his eyes. just another couple fighting in the hallways. but when he hears ‘please, please stop; i don’t want this’, he knows someone’s in trouble. and no matter how much of an asshole he is as a boss, he isn’t a terrible person - so like any other decent human being, he rushes to the source of the voices. 

he’s nearly brought to his knees with what he sees. his lovely y/n, pinned against the wall, with a balding man with a beer belly pressed against her body tightly - hands roaming, his face buried in her neck. y/ns sobbing and his hands drop lower, and harry hasn’t known a fury this hot. his anger burns through his body - tears it apart, and he doesn’t remember having any control over himself when he pulls the bastard away from the warmth of his heart and punches him in the face, his rings making a sickening but sweet crunch when it meets his nose. 

when the man falls to the floor clutching his nose, harry raises his foot up, and slams it down against the mans face - the glare of his expensive shoe against the shining of the mans wedding ring. harry thinks he’s gonna be sick; he’s absolutely disgusted. from the mans ruffled suit pocket, harrys eyes meet his card. works under the owner of the gala, some sort of a high end manager or summat. 

“you’re pathetic, honestly, y’know? forcing yourself onto women ‘cause you don’t get laid.” harry spits, pressing his shoe down harder. and then he crouches a little closer to the mans bloody face. “i’m gonna make sure you’re fucking jobless and out on the streets by this monday.”

harry’s about to raise his foot to hurt the man again when fingers wrap themselves around his biceps, and a soft voice calls, wet with tears:

“p- please, stop.” 

in an instant, harry backs away. and then he’s turning around and cursing himself for forgetting that his loves there in the heat of his anger. 

“are you okay? did he hurt you anywhere?” harry asks, forcing himself to keep his hands to himself. it’d probably freak the poor girl out even more if hes all over her. 

y/n shakes her head. “no, i’m fine. you got here before he could do anything, really. but thank you, so much. you saved me today.” 

with a gentle smile, harry shakes his head, his hickorey curls dancing atop. “men like him are disgusting and i’m so sorry you had to experience that. i know the owner of this place and i’m gonna make sure he never finds a job again.” 

y/n passes him a small smile. “thank you. but please don’t tell my boss about this. he’s gonna get really mad at me. and i cant afford that.” 

harry frowns. “if thats what you want. i wont take a name, but i dont really have to since i can have him fired anyways.”

with that, harry leads his love out of the hallway with a hand at the small of her back, with a growing satisfaction inside his chest - at being her savior. 

[foxymoxynoona]

Tell Me What Changed Drabble #1: Couple Costumes

I'm sorry, no one asked for this but it just happened. Very first TMWC drabble ever, more to come eventually. Enjoy!

Story: Tell Me What Changed Characters: Alex & Jungkook Words: 1800 CW: Language, references to sex, their conversation may give you a headache

“Ok, hear me out, I have our Halloween costumes planned for this year,” Jungkook said, collapsing onto the bed beside her to interrupt her doom-scrolling. He showed her the picture on his phone and said, “This is me. This is totally me.”

“You and every other guy this year,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Ken? It’s not even a little bit creative.”

“Alex, I can’t not be Ken. The public will expect it. I’m perfect for it. I’ve got the abs, I’ve got the tan–”

“And the hair?”

“I’ll go blond for it. That’s how serious I am. And you, baby girl, will be the hottest Barbie–”

Alex pushed up to her knees and interrupted, “Let me stop you right there. There is a Barbie in this relationship, and it is not me. I will be wearing that for Halloween,” she said, pointing to his phone. “For I am the Ken, and you shall be the beautiful Barbie.”

“Huh?” His face screwed up, adorably confused, and Alex felt her certainty grow that this was the way better idea. “But… you’re Barbie and I’m just Ken.”

“No, you are Barbie. You go through every day with main character energy, you’ve got great hair, great skin, and the balance to walk on your tip-toes everywhere.”

“No, babe, it’s a feminist thing,” he said, reaching for her hand. “It’s all about the reversal of the patriarchy and how Kens are defined by the female gaze and their association with a woman and the Barbies are the like, brains and power and–”

“Your summary of this movie is… incredible,” she snickered. She’d gone down many a rabbit hole reading all the think pieces after seeing the movie in theaters…. Twice. And she’d sent some of them to Jungkook but was not sure he’d read them. “It’s not really an inversion because there is no historic oppression of Kens, no dowries, no rape, no skewed physical demand placed on the Kens to have children–” 

“You get the idea. You’re putting me on the spot! But it’s proof I’m the Ken! You’re the one who read that big New Yorker article out loud to me while I cooked you dinner and pretended to listen,” he pointed out. “I’m the abs, you’re the brains! There’s not really anything more to me than my relationship–”

“Hence why you must now have your journey to discover your worth and identity, Barbie,” she insisted, shoving his shoulder. He didn’t budge, of course. 

“I can’t, I’m too busy taking selfies at the gym, Barbie. Everyone will expect me to be Ken –it doesn’t matter how many other guys do a shitty job at it, I want to go all in. For the ‘gram.”

“So you admit you think you’re hotter than me,” Alex said, crossing her arms under her boobs as a distraction tactic. 

“Uh… what? No, I–”

“So you recognize that by demanding I be a Barbie with some kind of remarkable trait or inherent counter-culture statement because I couldn’t look less like Barbie, while you get to be just a Ken so you can show off your abs, you are feeding into the concept that women must be all that and a bag of chips while men get to just be hot and walk through the world like someone else will figure it out for them.” Alex tried her damndest to keep a straight face. She thought she had just made some excellent points… somewhere in there. Honestly she wasn’t too sure about her own execution of a point but she appreciated the blank look on Jungkook’s face as he tried to trace her reasoning.

“Wait no, the whole point is that you’re the main character. Of my life. I love you,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to commit to the bit. Alex’s chest bounced as she tried to suppress the laughter. “You’d sell out. It would be like Taylor Swift tickets if they made an Alex Barbie.”

“Oh my god.”

“That’s why I’m saying I am your Ken and you, the sunshine of my life, are Barbie.”

“But that’s so narrow-minded of you. I want to be ogled and you should be allowed to be thoughtful and achieve something,” she insisted. “Unless you’re saying I’m not hot enough to be Ken? You don’t think people want to see me in a little vest?” She pouted her lips at him and sank back on her heels because her knees were tired, but also because she tasted victory. She could see it in the nervous way he was fumbling, trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally say something offensive. She thought it was hysterical.

“So… you think Barbie can’t be hot?” he clarified. And narrowed his eyes. “Babe, it’s the twenty-first century. Barbie can be anyone and anything.”

“So you’re saying I should go as Bimbo Barbie, reduced to nothing but my boobs, just an object to be looked at. How forward-thinking of you!”

Now she’d lost him and he defended, “That’s what you said you wanted!”

“No, I want to be Bimbo Ken. It’s totally different!”

“How is it different? You think Barbie can’t be just a piece of ass?” Jungkook demanded. “Wait, no! Only if she wants to be! Obviously she’s so much more.”

“That sounds like a great caption for the photo you’ll post of your Barbie Halloween costume,” Alex beamed. 

Jungkook flopped forward, arms pressed to his side. He rolled onto his side and back, a re-enactment of Barbie’s crisis in the movie.

“But I want to wear a fuzzy white coat and headband and two pairs of sunglasses and have everything think I’m hot and socially aware,” he whined.

She reached out and patted his back with a stiff hand, “I’m sorry, baby. You’ll look great in a pink jumpsuit though.”

“I guess there’s only one thing to do,” he sighed dramatically. And avoided eye contact, which was suspicious.

“What’s that?” 

“I guess we just have to be one of those couples who break up because of the Barbie movie and then we can both be Kens for Halloween. Don’t be sad, sweetheart, we can get back together on November 1st.”

“Shut up,” she laughed and kicked his ass over and over until he rolled away, shielding his balls from accidental assault. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you roam free for Halloween night. You think I don’t know how you used to spend those?”

“Same way I intend to spend this one,” he grinned. “Balls deep in a real doll–” She didn’t know if he was laughing too hard at his own audacity to continue or because she’d kicked him in the stomach a little bit.

“You’re so gross! And also aren’t those things crazy expensive?”

“I wouldn’t know, never needed one…”

“I can’t believe you’re joking about what a fuckboy you were and yet you want to be Ken? You dare tarnish the reputation of the man who has eyes for no one but Barbie?”

“And the other Kens,” Jungkook quickly corrected. “It’s not gay, it’s patriarchy!”

“I… don’t think we watched the same movie,” she giggled, and at this point just flopped across him. He wrapped his arms around her and wrestled her over to pin her down. 

“Alex,” he said. “Let me be Ken. Be my Barbie in sexy sparkly hot pants.”

“That’s… who you think Barbie is?”

“You said you want to be sexy lookin’ Barbie!”

“No, I specifically want to be Ken.”

“Barbie Ken?”

“Oh my god I am getting stupider every second of this conversation,” she laughed. 

He grinned and rubbed his nose against hers, taunting, “That’s right, baby, feel the power of a true Ken.”

“Jungkook!”

“JungKen,” he murmured and tried to kiss her. When she was laughing too hard, he kissed her jaw instead, and then tried to get to her neck to really make her squirm. 

She shoved at his face and gasped, “Oooh what if you’re Alan?! You’re just my buddy! And I’m Ken. Obviously.”

“Alan?! No way! And then who’s Barbie?” 

“I’m sure there will be dozens of Barbies.”

“And I’m supposed to just stand around with my hands on my hips in flipflops while you chase after women?!” he argued, rolling off her with a definite sulk.

“Which is different from most days how?”

“Aleeeeex.” He slid his hands up her arms, pinning her wrists over her head. “Please. What do I have to do to get to be Ken? Don’t you want to help me oil my abs?”

“That’s just a day at the pool.” He kissed her, succeeding only in a momentary silence, because hey, how else was a girl supposed to react as Jungkook slid over her, all hands and lips?

“I’ll convince you. I’ve got time.”

“I don’t know, it’s already August…” she teased.

“Oh shit your birthday is coming up,” he realized, pushing up into a plank.

“See? A true Ken would never forget Barbie’s birthday because what else do you have to think about?”

“Barbie in sparkly hot pants. I spend a lot of time thinking about you in sparkly hot pants… ah, I want it so bad…”

“Ok, give me some of that plastic and I’ll think about it.”

“Uh… you mean… by plastic do you mean… I mean, that’s not plastic. That’s all man muscle–”

“Oh god, you really are a Ken,” she sighed. 

“Thank you. You’re a Ken too sometimes,” he assured her. 

“Wait, is that a red flag? If we’re both Ken?”

“Ok, no more Buzzfeed listicles for you,” he snickered. “But look, I’ll spend the next two months convincing you, it’s fine, you can enjoy it. What about right now? Should I, uh… keep this going? Were you in the middle of something?” His hand slid up the side of her shirt, fingers a question at the band of her bra. “Why are you still wearing this? You’ve been home for hours! Let me help you get more comfortable.” He undid the hooks with one hand.

Alex let out a roar of a yawn and stretched her arms, hands behind her head, “I take it back, you’re Thoughtful Barbie. But yeah, keep it going.”

“Alex. Admit that’s a Barbie line. You’re my Barbie!”

She hated how much she actually liked to hear him say it. God, was something wrong with her?! Was it about being the mass-produced mainstream doll that she had never looked anything like? White, blond, and teeny, all the things she wasn’t. Even Curvy Barbie was still so thin, what the fuck? 

Or was it something about being Jungkook’s sex doll….?

“All right, Ken, you win, now keep going, this Barbie wants her–.”

“Yesssssss.”

“Don’t interrupt me again.”

“Sorry, sorry, Barbie.”

[laundrybiscuits]

(purify our misfit ways tag | AO3)

Sometimes Steve feels like he’s tripped into a parallel universe. One day he’d been on top of the world, Tommy and Carol by his side, backing whatever dumb idea he had; the next, he’d been wearing a stupid sailor hat, Robin and Eddie roasting him mercilessly. It’s like, there’s Hawkins, and there’s the Upside Down, and there’s Steve’s life which is now maybe sideways from all of that. Like, a third dimension. 

He thinks if this was a story, it would be kind of shitty. If he lays it all out, the facts of it, he used to have everything when he was sixteen and now he doesn’t. But really, when he thinks about it, the only thing he actually misses is how automatic everything was. It was so easy, being Steve Harrington. 

It just also sucked sometimes. 

He’d been bored and annoyed, pretty much all the time. He’d always felt on edge. Not angry, more…ready for things to go bad. Alert, like a guard dog, except the only thing he’d had to guard was himself. 

Nancy had felt like salvation. She hadn’t fit in with Tommy and Carol at all, and that’s what he’d loved about her. She pushed back, told him when he was being an ass or an idiot, and he’d loved her more than he knew a person could love another person. Even with the fights and all the monster shit, it had felt like his whole heart was just living inside her. Like when she was gone, there was an empty ache in his chest. It had been a good kind of ache, though, because he’d thought that her heart was inside him, too; he liked the idea of it echoing in her, too. And then it’d turned out—no, he’d been the only one walking around bleeding out. He doesn’t like to think about it too much.

He’d spent senior year trailing around after Nancy and Jonathan. He’d known it was pathetic. You don’t just spend all your time with your ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, what kind of loser does that? 

But there hadn’t been anything else he could think of to do, so that’s what had happened. Before, when he’d thought my friends he’d meant a crowd of people who wanted his attention. It had felt pretty good, being able to hand out approval like that. Telling jokes and knowing everyone in the room, everyone who mattered, would listen and laugh. 

And then suddenly he thinks my friends and means Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers eating lunch with him outside even when it gets too cold, talking about shit he doesn’t understand, and knowing he’s lucky to get that much. Hating it, kind of, but grateful anyway.

He guesses that once you face down a monster together, dumb shit like who’s dating who doesn’t really matter anymore. They hadn’t rubbed his face in it or anything, though he thinks Jonathan probably had the right. Still has the right. 

It stings like a skinned knee, but then summer comes and it’s so much worse. They’re suddenly busy with their fancy internships and he’s scrambling to get a job, any job, even a stupid job where he has to wear a stupid costume and sling stupid ice cream. Without Hawkins High holding them together like cling film between them and the rest of the world, the tentative friendship they’d built cracks wide open. Of course it was always going to break the way it did, with Nancy and Jonathan on one side, going places in life, and Steve on the other, not going anywhere. 

He tries so hard to find something, someone, anyone, but it’s like girls can smell the desperation coming off him. He’s never had to work so hard in his life to get absolutely nowhere. He’s Steve Harrington, charming motherfucker, nice enough to take home to your parents and mean enough to drive you crazy. He knows what he’s doing.

Except apparently he doesn’t anymore. Girls don’t react the way he’s used to, even though he uses the exact same lines, and it’s humiliating. It’s the stupid sailor outfit, he just knows it, but when he’s not at work it just feels way too pathetic to go hang out by himself at the mall. He spends his time running the trails behind his house, mostly. He watches TV. He even tries learning to cook, but it’s harder than he thought it’d be, so he gives up before too long. 

For a really long time, he doesn’t even register Robin Buckley as anything except a band geek who hates him. Yeah, he can appreciate that she’s kind of hot in a feral way, but she’s not his type at all. The chains, the mismatched nail polish, the way she makes fun of him and he can tell she means it. She’d told him once, “I’m the weirdest girl in Hawkins,” and she’d sounded like it was a badge of honor, something she was proud of. So: not his type, not even a little bit. 

But even though she’s kind of a dick to him, she helps him when it’s obvious he’s never even tried to read the employee handbook. She walks him through things even though he has to ask a few times because it’s complicated and he forgets. She makes fun of him for his hair and the way he strikes out with girls, but she never once makes fun of him for not getting into college, even though she’s probably going to Harvard or something when she graduates. 

And she’s one of the funniest people he’s ever met, in a savage kind of way. She reminds him of Tommy H. a little bit, though he knows better than to say that out loud. She doesn’t bother to pretend to like the customers, just serves them with a dead-eyed stare and bitches to Steve about the worst ones. Sometimes she does impressions and Steve laughs so hard his stomach hurts. 

So, she’s okay to be around. Doesn’t mean anything. Besides, it turns out that getting to know Robin means getting to know Eddie Munson, too. She mentions his name a lot, just little stuff dropped into conversation like oh yeah and then me and Eddie went down to the quarry or Eddie’s showing me how to play this song on the guitar. Steve thinks it’s pretty reasonable that he assumed Eddie was her boyfriend, right up until he’d actually met the guy and realized that she’d been talking about Eddie “the Freak” Munson the whole time.

Eddie is…different. Steve’s not sure how to feel about him for a really long time. Before, maybe even last year, he’d have written Eddie off as just another loser who couldn’t hack it with the popular kids and was mad about it. But Eddie comes back, and keeps coming back, and Steve can’t help wanting to know more about him even when Robin’s obviously annoyed at Steve’s questions. Just—Robin says they met in concert band, but are there even guitar parts in band? Steve would’ve paid a lot more attention if there were, probably. He can’t picture Eddie strumming some slick black guitar in front of all the tubas and whatever. And Steve’s pretty sure Eddie transferred in from another school because there were a lot of rumors about it in Steve’s freshman year; Robin’s got to know what that was all about, right?

It’s almost a relief when he realizes that even if they’re not actually dating right now, Robin has to have a crush on Eddie. It’s the only thing that makes sense. She gets all spiky and protective of him whenever Steve brings him up, plus she never flirts with Steve even a little bit, so it must be some kind of unrequited love thing. It’s kind of sweet, like a movie. Of course she won’t admit it, but once Steve figures it out, it all just makes sense. 

It must drive Robin crazy to be hanging around Eddie all the time. Eddie’s a larger-than-life guy, always trying to make people laugh, always with some new ideas that make slow afternoon shifts zip by. He’s not mean about it, though—not even mean like Robin is, even when he goes on one of his pissy little tirades about conformity or whatever. Steve can imagine what it must be like for Robin, having Eddie so close but not being allowed to curl into his side or lace their fingers together. It must ache. 

At first Eddie’s protective of Robin too, always staring at Steve suspiciously, but when it becomes clear that Steve’s not going to hit on Robin, Eddie loosens up a little bit. Whenever Eddie smiles directly at Steve, just Steve, it feels like winning something. 

It doesn’t take Eddie all that long to warm up to Steve, all things considered. It’s not too long before Steve starts feeling like yeah, okay, this could be a pretty good summer after all. Both Eddie and Robin are going back to school in the fall, so at least they’ll be in Hawkins, and maybe by then Steve can get them to start hanging out with him outside of Scoops Ahoy. It makes him feel a little pathetic to think about it too hard, so he doesn’t.

And then Dustin Henderson comes back from that nerd camp he’s been at all summer, talking about Russians, and it turns out Robin really doesn’t like Eddie like that at all, and everything Steve knows about how the world works is knocked off-kilter. Again.

It’s different afterwards, too. For the first time since all this shit started, Steve isn’t licking his wounds by himself in an empty house with all the lights on, falling asleep to M.A.S.H. reruns on the couch. He hadn’t even realized that Robin and Eddie had been holding him at arm’s length a little bit until suddenly they weren’t anymore. Suddenly they’re in Steve’s house more evenings than not. He’s a really shitty host because he can’t focus and he can’t offer them food or beer and he gets tired so easily, but for some reason they keep coming around anyway, bringing him groceries and bullying him into taking the pills that make him even worse at staying alert enough to talk to them. 

They’re his best friends, and he thinks—he hopes he’s theirs, too. He thinks even if it’s not completely the same as Tommy and Carol, or Nancy and Jonathan, it could be good. It could be better.

[willow-lark]

trick or treat?! 🍬😱 >-🧛🏻‍♂️

line! happy halloween, love the costume! :)) have some candy 🍭🍭🍭 this drabble is not very halloweeny n i wrote it in 20 minutes so idrk what it is but HI *tosses it forward*

“I don’t—I don’t know where we are,” Mike gasps. “Where are we?” Will, too, swivels his head to survey their surroundings. It had been—he hadn’t known what to expect when he tried it, had thought he’d maybe have a time or two to practice it before he had to make the jump in the heat of battle.

“This is where El goes when she looks for people. I wasn’t sure if I could do it too.” “Okay.” Mike throws out a hand, not any less bewildered. “How am I here?” That Will doesn’t know. He’d just grabbed Mike’s wrist and pulled, the only thought in his mind being that he needed to get the two of them away. Gunshots were firing, demogorgons were roaring, and there hadn’t even been a moment to consider it. “I thought we were going to die. Are you sure we’re not dead?” “This would be a pretty shitty afterlife.” Mike huffs through his nose. “Yeah.” He doesn’t have time to react before Will jolts out a hand and jabs him underneath the ribs, who darts backwards with a cackle. “What was that for?” “It’s like a dream, right? You gotta pinch yourself!” “Get back here—” Their laughs echo through this shadowy space, the shallow water underfoot splashing in the chase. In a bold move, Mike, righteous, just launches himself forward onto Will, who’s always been the quicker of the two. The fall might hurt, but Will wouldn’t know, because his mind is seized with the sensation of Mike pressed on top of him, head bent enough for his long, dark curls to brush Will’s eyelashes. Oh, what the absolute fuck.  Mike seems to realize it at the same time that Will does, but that might just be the oddest thing. Will prepares himself to brush it off, like, Sorry, bro. My bad, and haul himself up, Will murmuring some variation of the same words in return as they both just ignore it like they always do.  But— “There’s nothing else in here, right?” “I don’t think so?” Will’s brain is not properly functioning right now. How is he supposed to know? Mike hums a note. “Sounds good to me.”

[nythowl]

Don’t ever play with me

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x OC

TW: i don’t think of any, maybe some angst and swearing, and kind of sexual stuffs?

Words account: 2744

Note: Well this is my first fanfic with Thomas, and english isn’t my first language, feel free to correct my mistakes!

I feel into a deep obsession with Peaky Blinders lately, and I absolutely had to write something bc i’m going crazy. Also I haven’t watched anything after the 2nd season, so no spoilers

edit: i might turn this into a longer fanfic rather than an one shot, i have a lot of inspiration ;)

Enjoy !

As soon as Thomas entered the room, he saw her. She was standing right next to the bar, surrounded by a few men in black costume, and of course one of her brothers, standing in her shadow. He must have been looking a bit too hard, because she noticed that the three Shelby’s brothers were here. She excused herself, grabbed the glass of wine from the counter and made her way towards the boys. 

She was all smile and pretty eyes, her earrings catching the light and her dress making flowy movement as she rolled her hips. Tommy thought she was pretty confident walking towards a group of criminals men, knowing she just sold them a cargo full of shitty merchandise. 

“Hello sirs, it’s a pleasure to see you here.” she said when she arrived at their level. 

“Pleasure’s all ours.” replied John with a coy smile.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, before his brothers could make any comments. If eyes could kill, he’d be dead on the spot. Tommy had his hands in his pockets, jaw locked and scowling at his brother, rightly pissed by the naive behavior of John. 

Arthur looked grumpy as always, but more about the fact that he didn’t have the easiness of his brother to be so outfront with such a beautiful creature. John backed away and pretended to watch something else, feeling the cold anger of his brother.

But despite the evident tension even her brothers could feel from across the room full of people, Gabrielle didn’t flinch and kept smiling softly.

“I assume that if all three of you are here and looking so serious, this has something to do with business?” she asked brightly. 

“Right.” replied Tommy.

“Of course it is, I admire your dedication to work!” A little laugh escaped her throat, crystal clear. 

He asked himself how such an angel could be so devilish, selling drugs and all sorts of other illegal things for the account of the family business, while maintaining a perfect and innocent facade.

“Unfortunately I fear we can not talk right now for many reasons. If you want to stay here, I should be able to get some time for you later in the evening. Otherwise we can schedule a meeting dur-

“I’m here because you tried to sell us shit thinking I wouldn’t notice. I don’t like people taking me for a moron. You could either take us to a more private place where we can discuss this calmly, or…” 

Tommy let a little silence hang in the air while giving Gabrielle a discreet look at the cross of his gun. Her whole body language changed, and her brothers around the room became alert, giving clear signs to the Shelby’s that she was well protected.

“I think there is a misunderstanding, I provided you exactly what you asked for. Now is not the place nor the moment to talk about that. I suggest you wait, as it seems to be a rather urgent matter. “

Her honey-like voice and doe eyes were gone. She was standing straighter, her chin held high and looking right at Tommy. She didn’t seem to be fazed by his gaze or his threat. 

Actually, it looked like the more Tommy was trying to intimidate her, the less she was actually impressed. She never backed once, always stood her grounds through the danger. 

Tommy evaluated the situation. He didn’t manage to scare her, and it was not worth pulling a scene right now considering the number of people. A part of him also knew his business with Gabrielle’s family was quite important, and it would benefit him to keep it as it was, rather than starting a war. Even if the girl was seriously getting on his nerves.

He put his hands in the air, surrendering.

“We’ll wait.”

The woman relaxed, and smiled again.

“Perfect then, I’m glad we could find an arrangement.”

The polite and professional mask was back on, as if she just wasn’t threatened to death, a threat which was only pushed back for later by the way.

“Everything you order is on me, as a way to apologize for making you wait.” she walked past them, putting her hand on John’s shoulder as she did so. “Please make sure to enjoy your time here.”

She gave them a last and languid look and left. John watched her walk away, dumbfounded, his eyes fixed on her hips. Tommy slapped him on the back of the head, startling him. He muttered something about his brother being an idiot, and made a beeline to the bar. 

If he was going to deal with this fucking woman, he might as well be drunk. 

Despite the party around and the cheery atmosphere, no one dared getting close to the three brothers. Arthur was getting ridiculously drunk, and John was sulking in his corner, feeling like a punished child. Thomas was as serious as always, keeping a steady eye on Gabrielle.

She was a social butterfly, keeping conversations to everyone. It was now pretty late, and the party had slowed down. Soft music was playing in the background, and people were talking around tables, still drinking and talking about serious matters such as politics and business. 

Gabrielle now had a glass of whisky, and she was talking to an old man and one of her brothers. 

Tommy was starting to get more and more angry, and even his brothers were slowly getting away from him, fearing he might explode. He wasn’t even trying to be patient or subtle anymore, and was pointedly staring at her. She didn’t seem to care or even notice. 

He turned his eyes away for a few seconds to check on his brothers, who had managed to leave him, and were talking to some girls a bit further at the bar. 

When he went back to the woman, she had disappeared. Tommy stood up abruptly, and started scanning the room. 

She was climbing some stairs, trying to get away from people for a moment. The man she was talking to seconds ago was dismissing her, and was clearly more interested in talking business with Lucas, her oldest brother. She tried to slide into the conversation a few times, but was rejected as a child who asks too many questions. 

Anyway, she was going to have to talk to Thomas Shelby, so she decided to leave for a moment before talking to him and his brothers. 

She liked to be prepared when she saw him, at least mentally. She knew she had to take a moment for herself before talking to Thomas, at least to get a hold of herself. This man took every opportunity to try to intimidate or provoke her. Gabrielle was convinced it had nothing to do with her being a woman, it was more about pride and control.

First time she saw them, it was actually Arthur who brought her down and refused to talk business with her. But Thomas didn’t seem to give a fuck, and so they signed a pact to work together. 

The problem came later when she refused to be scared of him. She made it clear that she was working with him, and not for him, and therefore she had no order or bullshit to take from him. 

And Thomas couldn't do anything against her or he would break an important business, and mostly declare war. So he just had to wait for her to make a mistake by trying to break her patience, provoke her and bring her down anytime he could. He always kept her on her nerves, always wanting to scare her.

She couldn’t allow him to have control over her. At first it was a question of business, but then it became personal. 

Those fuckers really ruined her night, especially Tommy. They had the audacity to barge at the party she hosted, where she invited them, and to accuse her of god knows what. 

They didn’t seem to care talking about private and illegal affairs in a public place. Why should they? They were known criminals.

She didn’t even know what happened with what she provided. She even went to check everything was in order herself, because she knew not to mess up with the Shelbys, especially as a woman in business. 

Fucking hell. She could feel herself getting reckless and losing her temper. She was now in the bathroom, drinking water and splashing some in her neck. She cleared her throat and spat in the sink.

“Not exactly what I expected from a lady.”

Gabrielle raised her head in surprise, catching Thomas's reflection in the mirror in front of her. She laughed slightly, but it sounded tired. She looked in his eyes through the mirror.

“Can you expect anything ladylike from a woman selling anything illegal?”

“Yes. I expect that she will respect her word and honor our contract.”

Gabrielle sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry but I truly don’t know what you’re talking about. I was here when the merchandise left and I had just checked it. If you can explain to me further what happened, I’m sure we can find a solution.”

She was still looking at him through the mirror, as he was standing in the back of the room. She was leaning forward, her hands on the bathroom counter. She saw him cross his arms, and his jaw tightening. 

“Stop trying to fuck with me, and tell me the truth.”

Gabrielle let her head fall to avoid having to watch him in the eyes. She let out a nervous laugh and before she could think of what she was saying, drunk words were spilled.

“Darling, if I wanted to fuck you, that’s not how I would do it.”

 She winced just after saying the words. This was going to be the end of her, she knew it. She could already hear him approach, but she did not dare look up.

Suddenly, his chest pushed against her back, her hips were pinned between his and the counter, where he put his hands next to hers. She could feel his breath on her neck, and she heard his slow voice against her skin.

“Oh yeah? And how would you do it?” 

She felt herself trembling slightly, and a warm ball forming in her stomach. In the mirror, she could see him resting against her, and watching intently her reflection with his head tilted, his lips inches away from her ear. 

She couldn’t form any words, let alone a coherent sentence. 

He laughed sarcastically, and she felt the rumble coming from his chest travel through her own body.

“You sure got a big mouth, but you won’t do a thing." he teased again.

Enough with the provocation, she wanted to make him shut up. She actually wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. She had run out of patience, and wanted to finally get back at him for every time he had looked down on her. 

She swiftly turned around, now facing his chest. She pushed herself to sit on the bathroom countertop, and she saw him instinctively reaching for her waist, before she put a hand on his torso. 

He stopped mid-track and noticed he wasn’t actually thinking of what he was doing. Gabrielle looked very pleased with herself, her cheeks were pink, her eyes were a bit glassy and devilish. But she hadn’t finished just yet.

The hand that was resting on his torso grabbed his tie. She slowly wrapped it around her finger while dragging Thomas closer to her. 

She opened her legs and tucked a bit harder to bring him. His hips crashed against hers, riding up her dress almost to the top of her thighs. 

She was still holding his tie, looking up at him, their foreheads nearly touching.

Now his hands were on her waist, she could feel his finger digging in her flesh, she could feel the heat of his body around her, and she could feel his lips inching closer, longing for more.

Shivers were roaming her body, she could barely hide the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. 

It had been years since a man touched her like this. Right now, she was living for his attention, for his desire she could feel burning. 

Thomas was breathing with some difficulties, not really understanding how he ended up in this situation, and why he liked it. Their hips were connected, and the sight of her bare legs drove him crazy. In the desperate need of feeling more, he grabbed her thigh and lifted it up a bit to get them even closer. Now their chests were smashed against each other, and Tommy’s hand had slipped under her thigh, grabbing the soft skin inside her leg. 

Gabrielle drew what was left of her confidence and strength to say a full sentence.

“See? That’s how I would fuck you, if I wanted.”

If she wanted. Of course, if she wanted, she could tear him apart right now, and Tommy would gladly let her. He realized she had him wrapped around her finger. In fact, she had them all. He saw how John fell to his knees every time he saw her, and how Arthur didn’t muster the courage to look her in the eyes. Hell, even Aunt Polly seemed to like her, and that was something in itself. 

Fucking hell. A few minutes ago, he was the one in control, pushing her into a corner.

Now she had him by the balls, quite literally. And she was still looking at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Stop looking at me with those fucking eyes” his voice was clearly threatening.

“What eyes?” she asked innocently, watching him through her eyelashes, raising slightly her eyebrows. 

Talking back was way more fun than answering politely. She was tiptoeing between his wrath and his lust, playing around the edges, and she loved the danger, the rush of it.

He leaned back a bit, taking all his time to watch her, letting his gaze linger on her exposed legs, his hands wrapped around it. One of her straps had fallen, and let an open view to the beginning of her breasts. He took a look at her lips, before meeting her eyes.

“Don’t ever play with me” there was no appeal, what he said was definitive. He didn’t seem to be angry, but his voice was so calm and cold, and she could actually see his rage behind his eyes. 

“Or what.”

Gabrielle feared it was the last words she would ever say. But the alcohol had finally kicked in, and she never felt more alive. She was letting go of months of tension and hatred towards the man, in a rather strange fashion that seemed to work.

Before she knew it, the hand that was on her waist was at the back of her neck, pulling her hair. She let her head fall back as he leaned towards her, supporting her head and firmly gripping her thigh.  

Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and she knew that if he were to look down, he would see her panties. Fortunately for her, he was too occupied biting her neck.

Fucking hell, he was biting her neck! She let out a pained noise and panicked a bit about marks that he may leave. 

“Not so eager now, uh? Worried I might leave some bruises?”

He leaned back again so she could sit normally, but he didn’t let go of his hold on her.

“Or I could leave them somewhere only I could see.” he offered while running his rough fingers inside her thigh. 

The seriousness of the situation suddenly hit her like a brick. Was she really going to fuck with him? She didn’t realize what she was doing and what she implied. Actually, a little part of herself knew, and was begging for her to fuck him like an animal, right here, right now. But that was the little part of herself who usually wanted to down a whole bottle of whisky, or jump in the water fully clothed. So not such a good idea. 

But before she could actually decide what happened next, Thomas cut her.

“Don't get worked up over nothing, darling” he insisted on the last word on purpose. “We can be both to play this game”

And with that, he stepped back, totally detaching his body from her. 

[destinedgray]

Time: Evening  Location: The Palace of Pluto, Party (Vendors area) Characters: @destinedgray​ & @archeolcgist​

God help him.

He’d texted to meet Evy later at the party, seeing as he was running late after napping too long post research session. She hadn’t told him her costume and he’d assumed it’d be something simple so she was comfortable, but creative enough that she felt fun in it. However, when Andreas made his way to the candy vendor, he hadn’t expected the simple but creative costume to be so... well. He thought he might have been warned before seeing her in such a crop top. But he he focused enough, he could just admire how perfect she looked - exactly as she should. Beautiful like art but rogue enough that it looked like she could kick his face in with those boots.

“Lara Croft.” Dreas decided to try and surprise Evy by putting his arm around her shoulders while she was facing the other way, then proceeded to take the candy in her hands for himself. “Since when does she have such shitty reflexes?” He grinned and stepped back, putting the candy into his mouth before she could take it back.

[wednesdaysgun]

dirty town (wednesday x tyler)

takes place directly after wednesday asks for a lift. tyler’s inner workings are very ooc for how he acts but i could see it with a mix of the hyde anyway ENJOY 

Wednesday looks at me like I’ve started speaking latin, almost like I’m crazy for wanting to leave Jericho. I feel slightly insane, now I’m aware she’s now residing here, but it’s not like I could ever get the chance to leave. There’s two things I’m painfully aware of: She’s the only thing good to come into this town, and I wasn’t born to leave Jericho. Simply meant to live, die and rot on this soil. 

She stands there like a creeping spectre, haunting every move I make. Her silhouette is so small, so meek, but she holds more power in one finger than most of the spineless sacks of shit that reside here. From Wednesday’s monochromatic responses to her fashion choices, it’s all so clear. I think she’s the grim reaper. The proposal of me taking Wednesday to the station is like dangling food in front of a lion. I don’t know if it’s jealousy creating this urge, maybe I’m just mad that I’ll see her hop a train and she’s free of Jericho’s blood-soaked sidewalks. That once Wednesday leaves, this captivating little human will be gone forever, and she’ll probably never think of me again. I’m not the kinda person to force myself into plans, but the thought of leaving with her is enticing. 

Fuck, I must look nervous. I bet she can read my mind too. Might as well test it. I don’t know if I could trust myself in a car alone with her. Something about her, maybe her scent. It’s a mix of gasoline and tobacco, a hint of vanilla that punches somewhere deep inside me. Her intense, midnight-coloured stare. It’s all so heightened. I don’t know if He’d kill her or not, but I don’t think she’d be scared? Call it intuition. 

Tyler. Hey.

Sorry. What did you say again? 

If you could do anything right now, what would you do?

I’d do things I’m not allowed to say

Wednesday blushes, but my mind is in a spiral. Her scent is thicker, somewhat. And now I’m thinking about the crimson under her skin.

If I could truly do anything, I’d shoot my store manager in his head right now. I’d take out the security cameras first, then the till money, then hold up every customer in the building for their wallet. I would drag Wednesday by the hair into my car, and neither of us would ever be seen again. We’d drive until this place, her and my father are all blips in the past. I might not even kill her, if she’d come willingly. Something about her gives me the impression she’s not too traditional. I fucking hope not.

I’d just come with you. I’m sick of this town.  This town makes me feel sick. Every inch of it, had memories. Precious ones, from my childhood. With Mom, with Dad. When I was truly a son. Now every footprint I leave here sends me closer to madness. There’s no escape here, and the walls have ears. It hurts, to know if I did leave I would have to leave that behind too. But maybe it’s worth it- ditch this costume of a personality, ditch this shitty job, fuck it all to hell. It might be worth it for a shot with her.

[tommyshelbyswh0re]

fool me once, shame on you

nate jacobs x reader

angst (yuhhh)

i hate this so much

summary- basically nate’s cheating on the reader with cassie and i’m gonna base it on how i’d react. also cassie is our bestie in this. also pretend nate and maddy aren’t a thing.

y/n-

you and nate had been together for a year. it wasn’t the best relationship in the world. there was even a few times where you feared for your life. alas, you stayed because you were inlove.

you and cassie had been bestfriend’s for like 4 years. you were there for her through all her breakups and wrong doings. ofcourse you called her out when she was in the wrong, just not in public. in return, she was also there for you. every time you and nate would ‘break up’ she would comfort you, telling you that you deserved better.

nate was acting strange. more secretive if that was even possible. he would hide his phone from you or keep it on him at all times, even when going to the bathroom. you weren’t stupid, you know that this meant he was cheating, you just didn’t know who it was. you decided to confront him.

“nate why are you acting so fucking weird?” you blurted.

“i don’t know what you mean” he said without even looking away from his phone.

“are you being fucking serious? you’re not even looking up from your phone when i’m asking something important. you’re so distant. are you cheating?” you just flat out ask him.

“do you really think i’d do that to you?” he asks hurt in his voice.

“well i don’t want to, but the way you’ve been acting makes me suspicious. i barely know you anymore” your tone was angry.

nate knew if he didn’t shut this down he’d loose you forever. and even though he was in fact still cheating, he still wanted you and cassie.

“look i’m sorry babe. i’ll turn my phone off and we can have a movie night. i swear you’ll have my undivided attention” he smiled kissing your cheek.

“okay” you smiled back.

it wasn’t till later you realised he never actually gave you a straight answer. it was like he purposely diverted your attention.

-

“no cassie i’m being serious. he’s definitely cheating. all the signs are there. i mean i knew he was a shitty boyfriend but i genuinely didn’t think he’d cheat” you said hugging into her whilst tears streamed down your face.

“i mean, are you absolutely positive?” she asks you.

“i’ve never been so sure of anything in my life” you nod.

“who do you think he’s cheating with?” she asks curiously. you don’t know if it’s just you hearing things but that’s an underlying tone of something else when she says that, you just don’t know what.

“i don’t know. i don’t think i wanna know” you tell her

“what? why?” she asks.

“cause then i’ll get double the time in jail when i murder both of them” you laugh.

her laughter sounds fake though. ‘what’s up with her’ you thought.

-

it’s a couple of days later and it’s your birthday. you celebrate it at cassies since she has a hot tub. nate come round to give you your gift. it’s a tiffany necklace.

“oh i love it” you turn around and kiss him. “thankyou!” you say looking into his eyes.

“happy birthday. i love you” he smiles back. all of your friends are watching.

except cassie. where the hell is she? you’re all just talking about how beautiful the necklace is when cassie comes down the stairs drunk as hell. in a swimming costume? she makes eye contact with nate the entire time and he makes eye contact with her. you frown.

“i’m gonna wait near the hot tub until it heats up” she told us.

“let’s go put i swim suits on” you squeal excited.

“oh babe you coming?” you ask nate.

“uhm i don’t know” he says unsure.

“no come on it’s my birthday!” you say in attempt to persuade him.

“okay fine” he laughs pecking you.

“see you in 5” you say holding up 5 fingers.

you quickly put your swimming costume on and head outside. however everyone is looking is facing the sliding doors confused. when you turn to look at what they’re seeing, you see cassie even more drunk singing loudly and dancing with balloons.

“what the fuck?” you say standing next to nate.

he looks down at you. “is she always like this?” he asks.

“no but when she’s drunk she’s a fucking train wreck” you reply.

“anyway let’s get in” you clap your hands and make everyone follow you to the hot tub.

you all get it and cassie come out balloons still wrapped around her until she shrugs them off.

“heyyy y/n” she slurs. which cause you to laugh.

“hey cass” you reply back to her.

she tries climbing in but falls right on nate not-so-gracefully.

she laughs “oops sorry” she pats his shoulder. he just looks down.

once she’s comfortable she speaks up again. “anyways. happy birthday!” she sings.

“thankyouuu” you sing back.

“i’m so happy you guys have sorted out all of your shit” maddy smiles to you and nate

“we haven’t” you laugh, joking.

“yeah we haven’t” he says seriously.

“i mean i was joking but what the fuck are you talking about?” you asked him dead ass.

“i mean we haven’t. you literally accused me of cheating the other day” he says like you’re fucking stupid.

“well maybe if you weren’t so suspicious i wouldn’t” you defend yourself.

“alright” he gives up. but you weren’t done.

“you see what i mean” you look around to everyone. “i have to put up with this shit every day” you roll your eyes.

“it’s really funny because he starts arguing with me and acts like the next day he doesn’t come round begging me to forgive him” you say. airing your shit out.

“oh y/n forgive me. you know i didn’t mean it. i love you. we should get out own place when we go to college. one day we will get married and have babies” you mimick him. but as you said ‘babies’, cassie threw up everywhere.

everyone jumps up and screams. including you. vomit is the one thing you can’t handle.

“i’m sorry. y/n i’m so sorry” she says sobbing but all i can here is maddy gagging.

“i’m sorry i ruined everything.” she’s still sobbing.

“it’s okay don’t worry” you say trying not to vomit yourself.

“nate! get me a towel” you shout as cassie was being dragged out of the hot tub by her mum.

-

ever since that night, you and nate had been on sensitive terms. you had apologised for not airing things in private and he apologised for starting it. but still things were rocky.

you were at cassies two days later with everyone, just hanging out when there were loud knocks at the door.

yous had left it alone assuming cassies mom answered. 5 minutes later there was commotion in the hallway and you all went to go check. rue was sat on the stairs arguing with her mom. she was saying she couldn’t go back to rehab because she couldn’t get clean.

“you don’t have to. just take it one day at a time” she looks back at us and we all give her a thumbs up. it’s silent for a minute before rue speaks again.

“hey cass?” rue asks. cassie smiles.

“yeah?”

“quick question. how long have you been fucking nate jacobs?” and right then and there you could’ve swore your heart broke. you couldn’t hear anything. but you know cassie was gonna play it off.

“excuse me?” you asked calmly.

“well i mean i saw her getting into his truck like a month ago” rue shrugged.

“are you serious cass? your fucking my boyfriend?” you ask hurt in your voice.

“what? no?” she shook her head. but it’s too late. you start piecing everything together. the eye contact between them, her vomiting, her curious tone.

“cass i knew you were hooking up with someone but my fucking boyfriend?” you ask. you start to walk towards her.

“i don’t know why you’re believing her she’s a drug addict” cassie states.

“rue can you remember when this was?” to which she answered “right after new years”

and that’s how you knew she was telling the truth because that’s when he started acting weird.

“cassie that’s fucking low. how dare you pretend to be my friend when the whole time you were fucking him, probably laughing behind my back” you were crying.

“look y/n let me explain. i’m inlove with him and he’s inlove with me. we didn’t do it maliciously” she sobbed. as if that would make it better. you fucking lost it.

“your the most self-cantered idiotic person i’ve ever fucking met. your fucking my boyfriend and your crying?” she cannot be serious.

“nate doesn’t love anybody but himself” you whisper. you were honestly just gonna leave it and never speak to them again but she had to open her mouth again.

“no he just didn’t love you. you guys are terrible for eachother. it was gonna end soon anyway” as soon as she finished her sentence, you sent a sharp slap to her cheek.

“be careful you bitch. i told you what would happen if i found out who it was so you’re lucky it’s just a slap” you whisper in her ear. she ran upstairs. honestly you were done.

“sorry for slapping your daughter suze” you apologise to her mom before walking away to grab your stuff and head home.

“if you didn’t do it, i would’ve” she hugged me.

maddy and kat came with you and you spent the night crying to them.

the next day you didn’t even speak to nate. you just blocked him and cassie.

the only people you needed were maddy and kat.

[captainsophiestark]

Out on the Town

Damon Salvatore x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: "That's the best costume I've ever seen!" "Uh, dude, not a costume."

Summary: Y/N and Damon are dating, having a fun night out on the town. Y/N, being a human, can't keep up with vampire energy without good hydration, so she leaves her boyfriend to go get a drink from the bar. Unfortunately for her, some guy decides that's the perfect time to try and hit on her. Unfortunately for the guy, Damon Salvatore is certainly not going to stand around and let that slide.

Word Count: 1,021

Category: Mostly fluff, Damon defends reader from a horrible guy

Warnings: There’s a shitty, shitty dude who approaches the reader at the bar and oversteps his boundaries. Nothing bad happens, but it might be triggering for some people, so I thought I’d give y’all a heads up.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Alright, I'll be right back! I just need to get a quick drink!" I danced backwards and away from my boyfriend, Damon Salvatore, who was still going strong in the middle of the dance floor.

"What? Don't tell me you're tired already!" he called after me over the near-deafening noise of the music.

"Not all of us have super human stamina!" I called back. He booed, but I just rolled my eyes and waved him off as I stumbled to the bar, giggling like a maniac. I wasn't even particularly drunk! I was just having the time of my life being out on the town with Damon.

Somehow, every moment I spent with him just made me feel so alive.

"Hi!" I called out to the bartender with a big smile as soon as I got in range. "Can I just get a water, please?"

"Sure thing, coming right up."

I smiled and leaned back against the bar, scanning the crowd while I waited. I caught sight of Damon dancing it up in the middle of a big crowd, his shirt completely unbuttoned and hanging open as he commanded the attention of the room.

He really was something else. And I loved it.

"Hey there, honey," I heard a voice from way too close to my ear behind me. I took a giant step away and turned as I did, coming face to face with a man leering at me as he leaned against the bar. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," I said tightly. I glanced over to see how the bartender was doing with my water, but she'd gotten caught up dealing with a large group at the other end of the bar. I sighed.

"Don't tell me you're here by yourself? Pretty girl like you doesn't have a date?"

"Alright, get lost," I snapped. I started to turn to go back to Damon, but the guy caught my arm and pulled me back before I could.

"C'mon, don't walk away from me just like that."

I took a deep breath, ready to throw a scene and make every single person in this room aware of how horrible this man was, but my boyfriend beat me to it.

Damon sped in front of me in an instant. He yanked the stranger's arm away from me, and even though I was tucked safely behind his back, I could tell that he'd gone full vamp, fangs out and dark veins popping.

"Woah!" said the asshole, taking a half step back without looking very scared. "That's the best costume I've ever seen!"

"Uh, dude, not a costume," said Damon. The guy looked confused before Damon hissed and bared his teeth, then punched the guy square in the face. The guy's head snapped back, but Damon used his super strength and speed to keep the guy from falling over so no one in the bar noticed anything wrong.

The asshole swore loudly, and now he looked properly scared. Before he could so much as scream, however, Damon grabbed him by the hair and forced him to make eye contact.

"Alright, normally I'd just take you out back and kill you, but I'm here with my girlfriend, and I don't think she'd want me ruining the rest of our night over some piece of shit like you," he said. I'd known him long enough by now that I could tell he was compelling the guy. "So, instead, I'm gonna find another way to keep you from being a problem ever again.

"For the rest of your life, you will not talk to, look at, or touch another woman until she initiates something. And if she does initiate something but then realizes that you're a giant dick who's not worth her time, then you have to go right back to not talking, looking, or touching."

The guy nodded, clearly struck dumb from the compulsion, and Damon shoved him backwards as he let go of the guy's hair. He took a deep breath and shook out the tension in his shoulders as the guy stumbled around the bar, then turned to me.

"Are you okay?" he looked concerned, but also clearly pleased with himself. I grinned right back at him and wasted no time before wrapping my arms around his neck and giving him a big kiss.

"I'm fine," I said once we finally pulled apart. "Thanks to you. The big bad vampire, my hero."

Damon rolled his eyes and tried to brush me off, but I could tell he was secretly glowing at my words. His chest puffed up a little as he held his arm out to me, and of course, I took it.

"You get your water yet?" he asked.

"No, the poor bartender's insanely busy-"

Right on cue, the woman in question popped back into view and set my cup of water down on the bar with a smile. Damon grinned and grabbed it for me, then handed it over as we headed back towards the dancefloor.

"You think that water's gonna be enough for you to keep up with me for the rest of the night?" Damon taunted. I downed the whole cup in a few swallows, then left it on the nearest table as we reached the edge of the crowd again.

"Bring it, Salvatore. I'm about to dance circles around you all night long."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Damon smiled as I flung my head back and got into the music, swaying my hips and forgetting the dude from earlier to just enjoy the night with my boyfriend. Damon was at my side in an instant, wrapping his arms around me as we swayed to the music. Even in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, the rest of the world seemed to fade away when I was with him.

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

[asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3]

Nah but Chris glued to the waiting room seat because both Harcourt and Adrian have been out for days and he’s stressed like no one’s business. He makes the rounds, her room, his room, the shitty little coffee machine down the hall. The doctors say Harcourt is doing fine. They don’t say much about the man with the Vigilante costume. Chris keeps a watch for cops, not that there are many in the county right now, the butterflies possessed them all.

Harcourt wakes up and it’s like a weight lifted off Chris’ shoulders. She’s so happy he’s been there since she got admitted. He’s about to tell her ‘of course I stayed. You and V have been out cold for days. I didn’t know if you guys would push through’ but then Harcourt reaches out. And Chris holds her hand, feeling how soft and warm her skin is. It’s something he’s thought about doing a million times, not like this obviously, and yet… it feels weird. He doesn’t get the thrill he thought he would. They don’t get to talk long. Harcourt is on about a thousand painkillers for all her fresh new bullet holes. So he makes his routine trip to Adrian’s room and he’s just gone.

For a horrible moment Chris thinks Adrian’s been arrested. His heart drops to his stomach and a lump forms in his throat, because he could have stopped it if he’d been a better look out. But then the nurses say something about how he ran away, and just like that Chris’ mood does a 180. He leaves, content that Harcourt will be asleep for a while. He has no phone, he has no idea where Vij lives, he has no idea where to find him now that he’s on the run. But then he gets home to his trailer and Adrian is there, wrapped in a hospital gown sprawled out on his couch, blissfully asleep. Chris stares at him for a long time before covering him with a blanket and going to find his smallest set of clothes for the man to change into when he wakes up.

When Adrian is finally conscious, he mumbles out something about the cops raiding his place and Chris cuts him off saying how it’s probably safer for him to stay there for the time being. Adrian lights up like a thousand watt bulb and Chris can’t help but smile too. And geez, when did that happen? He had been so caught up with the Harcourt/alien invasion thing that he hadn’t even realized he has feelings for Adrian, too. Adrian, his most loyal and devoted friend. But friend didn’t really feel right. Not after all they’d been through. But that was a can of worms for another day. All Chris wants to do is sit down, have a beer, and get higher than a kite even if Adrian bitched about it. Maybe just this once he wouldn’t mind.