Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here!
As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Please don’t push me into a wall or into traffic, B! Remember that I love you! Another big thank you to my expert on all-things London (and ladders), @cuddlemusclestyles.
Let me know what you think! Happy reading.
“A pink room, huh?” Nick swirls the ice in his glass, smiling with his eyebrows raised.
“She had the same reaction,” Harry smirks, taking the last sip of his tequila. “But after she thought about it, she liked the idea. Eyes got all bright ‘n shit,” he laughs. “A pink guest room.“
“Well, if it’s what ye’ want,” the radio host clinks the rim of his glass against Harry’s. “Then ‘m ‘appy for ye’. Might ‘ave to claim it as me own when I sleep over.”
A/N: Wanted to try to get another chapter of this out this weekend since I won’t be able to really write during the week (and because this idea came to me today and I wanted to get it down before I forgot).
It had surprisingly been more than a week since you had heard
from T’Challa last and it was kind of starting to worry you. You had heard
through the grape vine that he was out of the country but that usually didn’t
stop him from at least texting you. Honestly, you guys talked so much that if
it weren’t for the fact that you weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the two
of you, you’d almost think you were in a real relationship. But your worries
were squelched when you walked into your office and saw a huge bouquet of
flowers waiting for you. There was no note on them but you knew who they were
from. No one else would send such an over the top gift to you. For heaven’s
sake, they took up half your desk, you had to give them their own chair just to get them out of the way.
Yakuza!Hanzo with pregnant s/o? During the pregnancy and birth?
((SO I MADE THIS A LIKE TWO PART STORY BECAUSE YAKUZA HANZO IS LIFE….I also do an excessive amount of research on things for this and it FUELED my need))
From a hostess at an upscale bar to the wife of a Yakuza boss. It sounded like the storyline of one of those movies or TV dramas and yet, this was your life. You had drawn the eye of Hanzo Shimada; the sophisticated, suave man of few words who initially frequented the establishment when holding private business meetings. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you had been working and soon found yourself requested as a personal hostess for the sharply dressed man with the hawk-like gaze. Enticing professionality morphed into actual attraction; small gift of affections turning into a request to date you which soon led to marriage.
You counted yourself as lucky. Most of the other hostesses or former yankee girls ended up in loveless, violent marriages with men who wanted a trophy wife and punching bag all in one. Hanzo treated you like a queen; granting your any desire or wish, showering you in gifts and private displays of affection. You wanted for absolutely nothing and lived in the lap of luxury within the Shimada faction walls. Anytime you left, you were flanked by personal female guards and whenever Hanzo had important ‘legitimate’ meetings, you were on his arm as his doting and loving wife. He didn’t involve you with any of his illegal practices, you were an exquisite flower in the garden of his life and he planned to keep you safe. And his child that grew inside of you.
You smiled, Hanzo’s voice was still tinged by sleep, his hands lightly moving over your waist to rest on your growing stomach. You tilted your head to the side as Hanzo placed a gentle kiss against the side of your neck, his chin resting in the crook of your shoulder. You had neither been actively trying to conceive nor working to prevent it, letting fate handle any type of family planning you’d fall under. When he found out you were pregnant, he was ecstatic in his own ways; his eyes lit up, he pulled you to him and kissed you hard and openly in front of the doctor that made the housecall. Hanzo wasted no expense in making sure your pregnancy progressed smoothly; a personal chef on call 24/7, a masseuse that you could visit in person or request on the estate, your own private midwife and weekly spa trips to keep you ridiculously pampered and relaxed. He had even begun accompanying you more after you expressed that you felt lonely with him gone so often.
This is how you found yourself waking with him at least three days out of the week, enjoying a meal or two together as he answered calls and dispatched orders to his secretary who would then pass them onto whomever needed to hear them. You leaned back into your husband, humming contently as his arms wrapped tighter around your body. His lips pressed hard against the side of your neck again, drawing a quiet chuckle from your lips and a pleased sigh from his. Covering his hands with your own smaller ones, you massaged the back of his hands before deciding to speak.
“Good morning dear husband”, you teased playfully, earning a throaty huff of a laugh at the formal nickname. “I hope I didn’t wake you…”
“No dearest”, Hanzo started between another kiss, squeezing you again. He had never made you second guess his attraction to you even through the pregnancy, his level of affection almost growing as you did. “Waking in bed without you however was inspiration enough to rise.”
A wave of nausea had pulled you out of your sleep and forced you out of bed, your hand combing through Hanzo’s hair as you rose as not to wake the man. You had slipped to the down to the kitchen and fixed yourself a cup of peppermint-ginger tea, obnoxiously sweetened to your preference. Turning your head, you gave a soft ‘oh’ when you saw he had already gotten dressed, the white button up covering his once shirtless torso.
Turning yourself around, Hanzo pulled back slightly, your eyes looking him up and down, humming approvingly. Hanzo wore both traditional and modern clothing, both looking dashing on him but the latter edging out with your preference. He wore black slacks, the white button up tucked in but not buttoned all the way up, the navy blue tie hanging undone around his collar and his black hair still down. A warm, thankful smile began to pull at your lips, your eyes connecting with your husband’s dark ones. This was a ritual that the both of you had started from when you had first been brought into the Shimada clan. You initially had been no more than a glorified wallflower; pretty, pleasant and essentially useless. Before meeting Hanzo you had been a working girl your entire adult life, working hard to earn your keep and live your life as comfortably as you could. Doing absolutely nothing left you antsy, restless. So in the morning you would rise with your then boyfriend and assist him with getting ready. You’d pick out his ties and socks, button up his shirts and assist him with putting his shoes on. It made you feel at least somewhat useful before you became the lady of the house.
Reaching out, you pulled him closer so his torso rested against your pregnant belly, one of his hands lifting to lightly stroke at your cheek. Your fingers made quick work of the button up, your fingers playfully ghosting under his shirt to lightly stroke the edges of clan’s dragon tattoo on his left shoulder before closing it. You worked your magic, tying his tie into a trinity knot, your hand smoothing over his chest as you looked up at him affectionately. His hand moved from your cheek to your chin, holding it as he dipped his head down and pressed an affectionate kiss to your lips. His free hand tenderly massaged your belly as he pulled away, smiling down at you.
“Remember to tell your doctor this, beloved.”
You nodded your head, understanding he was referring to your nausea. He’d text you mid-day just to make sure it had been done and would take care of it himself if your pregnancy brain made you forget. Always watching out for you.
“Of course, my love.”
“Boss we can just force our way back in there…she can’t tell you to get out like that ca–”
Hanzo stopped on a dime and snarled at the man that had dared to speak, his eyes pinning the man with a look that could kill. The younger man immediately bowed, stammering an apology as he backed out of the room at the quiet recommendation from a senior member. Hanzo was known for his chilling calmness, his cutting words and icy gaze usually enough to break anyone who would cross him. But now he was on edge, snapping angrily at anyone that would speak to him as he paced. No one could blame him really. Hanzo had been kicked out of the room by your midwife after snapping at her when you went through a particularly rough contraction, the man demanding to know why the pain medication hadn’t kicked in yet.
So now all he could do was pace while several of his guards fidgeted about, thrown off by their boss’ energy. He could hear your cries through the door, his heart tugging every single time it reached his ears. His twin dragons begged to be set free, to protect their master’s mate, Hanzo was barely able to fight the urge himself. But he knew that it would upset you so instead he would wait, his heart in his throat and nervous flitting in his belly. Time trickled by, far slower than Hanzo would have liked, hours feeling like days. Until the strong, loud cry pierced the air.
It felt as if the world around him melted away, the strong, growing cries of the newborn working everyone into an excited frenzy. Someone clapped Hanzo on the back, another on the shoulder and they were all cheering when the door to the room you had been delivering in slid open a crack. The midwife smiled and motioned for Hanzo to come forward, his men pushing him when his feet froze to the ground, excited and intimidated by the prospect of finally meeting his child.
“Hanzo…come say hi.”
Your voice drew him the rest of the way into the room, warmth exploding in his chest as he laid eyes on you and the small bundle you held in your arms. Your face was ruddy, hair stuck to your skin by sweat, eyes heavy with exhaustion; but he was sure you had never looked more beautiful. He stopped in front of you, his hand lightly stroking your cheek, his other hand shaking as it came to lay gently upon the head of the newborn. The newborn boy fidgeted at his touch, his mouth opening in a big yawn as Hanzo lightly stroked his face. Emotion made his throat feel tight as he dipped down, pressing his lips hard against your forehead, pulling the both of you into a hug. Haruto gave a whine at being jostled, the newborn fidgeting before settling between his mother and father quietly.
“Haruto Shimada”, you hummed softly as Hanzo pulled back, your head falling to the pillow on your bed, patting the space on the California king sized bed next to you lightly. Your midwife hung around the background, cleaning up the area quickly and quietly, the omnic nurse following right behind her. Hanzo took the seat, taking your hand gently and kissing your knuckles hard, as he scoot back to lay amongst the pillows with you. Immeasurable pride, love, happiness and need to protect filled his being as he looked between you and Haruto contently. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Would you like to hold him love?”
Hanzo barely nodded before you were carefully passing the newborn into his arms, the Yakuza head breathing stopping for several moments. Haruto fidgeted, smacking his lips lightly in a yawn once more as he turned into his father’s touch. Hanzo took this time to study him thoroughly; thick black hair covering his head, face chubby and skin ruddy from being birthed. Later, he would say that Haruto was a peculiar looking little thing when he came out but right now at this moment the child was the image of perfection. Your snort drew Hanzo’s attention up, your finger pointing to the foot of the bed with a humored smile.
Yuuki and Ame sat at the end of the bed, curled into a loose pile on top of one another and rest at your feet. The translucent blue dragons were content to sit and wait, intrigued yet protective, instantly acknowledging the new charge that had been added to the family. Extending a hand to them, you gently pat Ame on the head as he moved forward, chuckling quietly as the dragon purred under your touch.
“Keep him safe”, you ordered softly, knowing there was no real need to tell the dragons what to do.
“The dragons will consume our enemies”, Hanzo reminded you, his voice soft but mirthful as he leaned over and lightly kissed you on the forehead, cradling your sleeping son to his chest lovingly.
((I hope this is okay anon! I know I went on a tangent but it was fun!))
Warnings: Slight dom/sub, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of 50 shades of Gray, use of restraints, spanking, mostly just fluff and slightly kinky sex.
Summary: You and the boys decided to watch a movie after Sam gets embarrassed and goes to bed, you and Dean decide to do a little role playing of your own. Not even you realized just how brave you could be.
A/N: This was done for an anon who requested, Hello. I was wondering you could write one where you and the boys are finally staying in one night so you decide to watch a movie and the girl picks 50 shades and Sam ends up going to bed and Dean and reader somehow end up acting out what they are watching. Not sure if I explained well. Thank you!!! ❤️ I hope it was what you were looking for. I am even thinking about possibly doing a part two if people want to read one just let me know. This was super fun to write, I hope it is fun to read.Italics are scenes from the movie, specifically.
Flopping between your two favorite guys you let your body squash between them. Carefully tucking in your elbows to your side to make sure you didn’t hit anyone in the guts. It was not only a much-needed break from the cases you had been dealing with, Lucifer’s baby mama drama was still causing problems not to mention the British douche bags were now also trying to murder you and everyone you knew. It was also movie night, and it was your turn to pick the film. A well-deserved distraction and you already had a title in mind.
You didn’t get to watch movies and relax very often, so even knowing the boys might be slightly uncomfortable, you choose the one movie you had been dying to see. The movie was supposed to be a romance and you only vaguely knew that it was about somewhat kinky sex, you didn’t even care if you blushed for two hours straight. It was what you were watching. You clicked a few buttons and up it popped on the screen.
“Ugh, no, you aren’t going to make us watch,” Sam let out a sigh, “this.”
“So inquisitive. But that doesn’t matter. You’re here now, not them. All I’m saying is Mark is never like this with ANYONE. I told you… he likes you”.
Again there’s the warmth and the faintest jittering in your stomach.
You don’t get the opportunity to process all these conflicting thoughts and feelings before Shanna is pushing you into the bathroom.
“Come on. We’re getting ready!”.
A party, it was then. Hopefully one full of the kind of people you could gather bits of intel from; and then of course… there would be Mark.
As you finish the last of your party preparations, Shanna stands to help you zip up your dress. When she clasps the top she lets out a squeal of approval. Even though you’ve only met her and making friends with the subjects of your investigation is far from ethical, something about her presence is comforting. You haven’t had time for friends in months and she is not only kind, but exactly the type of person you’d befriend outside the confines of the estate.
You let her lead you to the full length mirror in Mark’s expansive walk-in, eyes widening when you finally see yourself. Deep emerald silk clings to your body in all the right places, loose curls flow down your back and the perfect shade of red paints your lips.
the first time Prompto goes to Iggy’s place. Prompto finds something he totally
did NOT expect Ignis to own.
Prompto glanced down at the message on his phone from Ignis
as he walked down the advisors block in the financial district, just to double
check he was in the right area. This was a really nice part of town and Prompto
hadn’t been here much. Even though he and Noctis had been hanging out for about
two years now. Initially the sharply dressed man had been nearly as
intimidating at Noct’s bodyguard, but after a few meals Prompto quickly warmed
up to him. He wasn’t so scary once you got to know him… unless he was using
daggers during training. Then he was terrifying.
09:53 > Apologies for the late text, but His Highness and I are already
on the boat to Altissia for the trade conference and I’m not sure how my
reception is after we get away from port.
09:54 > Could you please water the plants in my apartment? Noctis was
running late and I completely forgot. They’ll all be dry by the time I return. I
could give you a few gil for your trouble when we get back.
10:02 > Sure thing. Where do you live?
10:03 > And don’t dory about the gil. Just make me some of that curry
you made last week when you get back. Soooooo good! :P
10:05 > 1543 E. Hampton Blvd Apt 34. I’ve told the door man you’re
coming. He should let you in.
10:05 > I would be happy to cook whatever you like. Thank you again
Prompto. If you water them today, Thursday, and Saturday, that should be
10:06 > Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. Most of it will be
spoiled by the time I return anyway.
10:07 > Ohhhhh, that’s an offer you may come to regret. I’ll try not to
eat anything expensive looking. -^_^-
Summary: After moving to New York, aspiring author Y/N gets more than what she bargained for when she befriends her mysterious neighbor. In a blur of riches and beauty, she finds herself falling for the man who remains unknown.
A/N: It’s been like what? 2 weeks? I am so so sorry! I’ve been really busy with work and school but here it is part 8!
You stood in front of the giant mirror on an elevated platform in your closet. You adjusted the skirt on your two piece dress. The black maxi skirt ended just above your toes, it’s split thigh exposed your leg. The top was also black, it was sleeveless and had a plunging v-neck bodice, the rest was sheer. The two-piece exposed a small portion of your stomach. Shea had picked out a gold armband to go with the dress. She handed you a pair of black lace-up heels. You slipped them and nodded in approval at your appearance.
This would be your fourth date with Bucky. So far you’ve been to three different restaurants and in each one, Bucky has done something unexpected. He went out to a business meeting early in the day and he hasn’t arrived yet. Shea had reassured you that he’ll arrive soon enough and encouraged you to get ready. Now you were all dolled up and no Bucky. You checked your phone for any signs of calls, text messages or voicemail, but your notifications were dry. You frowned.
“I was informed that Mister Barnes would meet you at the restaurant,” Shea said.
You turned and stepped off the platform, “Then I should get going.”
She nodded, “Trevor has been assigned to drive and assist you in any matter necessary. He will also serve as your protection.”
You nodded meekly, already feeling like this was gonna be a terrible night.
Trevor opened the door for you. You thanked him and stared in awe at the restaurant. The sun was just beginning to go down, casting a golden hue on the reflective glass.
“I’ll be a phone call away if you need me, Miss Y/N,” Trevor said.
You nodded and walked up to the hostess who smiled at you. You forced a smile onto your face, “Barnes, table for 2.”
“Follow me,” She turned and led you to a lonely table at the edge of the restaurant. It was secluded from the other tables. “Will they be accompanying you later on?”
“Yes,” You replied and sat down. “I hope.” You mumbled the last words under your breath.
She nodded, “Would you like something to get you started?”
“Glass of water,” You said.
She left you at the table, you checked your phone once again. No new messages. You huffed and attempted to fill your head with happy thoughts. He’llbehere, you told yourself, he’dnevermissoutonadate. Andevenifhewasn’tgoingtocome, he’dshootyouatext. Buckyisn’tthetypeofstandyouup. Right?
After a few minutes, a waiter came back with your glass of water. He gave you a kind smile and asked if you wanted to order your food, you told him you’d wait until Bucky arrived. He nodded and left to attend another table. You picked up your phone and decided to text him.
You: Where are you? I’m at therestaurant
You continued to stare at your screen, expecting him to immediately start typing. Instead, you started nervously drinking the water and in no time you found yourself reaching the bottom. You called the waiter over.
“Can I get a martini with extra alcohol and extra olives,” You said.
He wrote down the order in his notepad and scurried away. You leaned back and felt like people were staring at you. You shuddered and looked around the restaurant. It was dimly lit. Its main colors were red and gold, bathing the room in a royal elegance. You looked out the window, pedestrians were walking by or trying to hail a cab. You turned away when the waiter came back with your drink. You thanked him and immediately began sipping on the edge of the glass.
Forty minutes passed and you were still alone. You had already guzzled down two drinks. Both were packed with alcohol. You sent him another message. In total there were three others that you had sent.
You: I can see that you’re not coming, I’m leaving. See you tomorrowmorning, if you’re even there.
You knew you probably shouldn’t have been that harsh but damn! He didn’t even bother to say he wouldn’t make it. He stood you up and you were disappointed, upset, bitter and a bit dizzy. The hostess came around, she gave you sympathetic smile and you returned a sheepish one.
“I think I’m done,” You muttered. “can I get the tab?”
“It’s already paid for,” She said.
“By who?” You asked.
“A gentleman right over there,” She pointed to a sharply dressed man who flashed you a grin when your eyes met. You turned back to the hostess and thanked her for the service. She told you that your two-piece was beautiful. You messaged Trevor to bring the car around. Just as you did, you received a message from the devil of the hour.
Bucky: doll, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to make it to the restaurant, I’ll make it up, I promise.
You left him on read. It was probably petty as hell but you were bitter and it was okay to be a bit petty. You felt humiliated as you walked through the restaurant, feeling like everyone’s eyes were on you. You reached the door of the restaurant when the man who paid for your tab opened it for you.
“I’ll get that,” He smiled. “What’s a girl as beautiful as you doing out alone?”
“Leaving,” You said and walked past him, not having time for this flirty bull.
“Would you like to get some drinks one of these days?” He asked.
“I’m seeing someone,” You replied.
“But you got stood up, right?”
You turned to him, “Yeah, and?”
He shrugged, “Just think you deserve better.”
Trevor got out of the car and escorted you towards it. A smilies head of blonde hair made your head snap in that direction.
“Y/N?” It was Emma. She looked as shocked as you. Her eyes skimmed your figure. You turned and got into the car. Trevor closed the door and quickly drove away from the curve.
You lay in bed for a good hour before rolling off the bed. Your skirt was replaced by a pair sweats but you didn’t bother changing out of the top. You went into the bathroom to freshen up. Last night Bucky came home at around 2 in the morning. You knew this because you told Shea to not let him in your room no matter what. Bucky wanted to go in and see you but Shea said you were resting. She knew that was a lie, you weren’t asleep. You just didn’t want to see him in that moment. You met up with Shea at the bottom of the stairs.
“How did you sleep?” She asked.
“Okay,” You mumbled. “You?”
“I slept well, thank you,” She replied.
Shea followed you outside where the doors opened up to one of the palace’s patios. It overlooked a beautiful fountain and gave a view of the lake that was just in front of the house. You sat on one of the chairs, your hands rested on the glass table. The sun hit your skin, you closed your eyes and took in the heat.
“Good morning, Mister Barnes,” Shea said.
You opened your eyes and raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s figure. His hair was disheveled and it looked like he didn’t sleep all night. He cleared his throat, his eyes never left yours.
“May I speak to Y/N alone?” He told Shea.
She looked at you. Bucky looked a bit agitated that he no longer had a say in what Shea did. She was your handmaid but you saw her as a friend rather than a maid.
“It’s okay, Shea,” You told her and closed your eyes once again.
You listened carefully as Bucky sat down on the chair opposite of you. You breathed in and exhaled, meditating quietly to yourself. Bucky cleared his throat once again and began talking.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” He began. “I wish I could’ve called you but the meeting ran longer than expected. We just had to go over some plans in Chicago, I didn’t think we’d take too long.”
“It’s fine, James,” You said. “I understand.” He winced. You almost never called him James. Only Bucky.
He reached out and took your hand, “Let me make it up to you.” You looked at him. “Have you ever been to Los Angeles?”
You looked out of the plane window of Bucky’s private jet. This was your first time in California. It looked amazing from the sky. Bucky had told you to pack a bag for a week and you did. You were excited to travel. Your first big trip was your move from home to New York.
After the jet landed Bucky escorted you onto solid ground. You were a bit taken aback by the humid, very sticky heat. It didn’t feel good and you were beginning to regret wearing a black shirt. You practically attracted the heat. Two black SUV Cadillacs were already waiting. Four men stood guard. One stepped forward.
“Welcome back, Mister Barnes,” He said.
“Good to be back, Eric” Bucky replied. “This is Y/N, my beautiful girlfriend.”
You smiled and shook hands with him, “Nice to meet you.”
The car door was opened ad you climbed inside, Bucky followed. The car door was closed and Eric got into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.
“Where to, boss?” He asked.
“The house,” Bucky replied.
You shouldn’t have been surprised when the SUV rolled into the driveway of Bucky’s luxurious Hollywood home. It was something straight out of the movies. It wasn’t as big as his palace on West Egg, but it was equally extravagant. You gawked at the house the towered over you. The architecture was almost ancient. It had tall columns and a roof that seemed to resemble the Athena Parthenos.
“It’s grand!” You exclaimed as you stepped out of the car.
“It’s one of the first houses I ever bought,” He replied.
You turned and had a breathtaking view of the city. The skyscrapers all seemed bunched together in one area. You’ve never been to California. The air smelled of smoke and humidity but it looked beautiful from up here. From the view of wealth.
“Will I get a tour?” You asked.
Bucky smiled at you, “I’ll give you a better tour. C'mon, time for me to make up last night’s event.”
Here’s the song fic!! I really am not that great at them, but I hope you guys enjoy!! I’d like to thank the awesome @abigailredgrave for helping me out with this. Also, this is in the Arkhamverse if it confuses some people. I recently have had some Arkham Knight feels and I needed to get it out of my system.
Warning: Blood, fighting, guns, horrible nicknames, etc.
When Adrien Was There- Adrinette Month Day Nineteen
Marinette leans back, looking out the window on the train. Her parents wave, and she gives a halfhearted wave back, as they fade out of sight. She sighs, looking down at her sketchbook. The doctors said spending the spring outside of Paris would help her to heal from her recent asthma attack, but she’s not buying it. Her parents were getting sick of her. That’s why they’re sending her away, to live with an Uncle she barely knows for three whole months.
She flips through her sketchbook, and fights the tears. Everything started falling apart after she heard that conversation.
“She’s never where she’s supposed to be!”
“I know, but Tom, she’s our daughter-”
“No daughter of mine gets a D in science!”
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d disappointed her parents… and then a failed quiz triggered the panic attack, leading to the asthma attack. And now, she’s being sent away.
It isn’t fair.
Cheng-Shifu picks her up at the station. They don’t speak as she gets in his car, and looks out at the town, through the window. It’s so small, and ugly, and nothing like the bright lights and tall skyscrapers of Paris. She feels homesick already…
The house is nice enough, though. Well, it seems nice enough. He smiles,taking her to a room. “This is yours,” he says, in slightly awkward, but clear, French. “I hope you enjoy your time here.”
“Thank you,” she offers a small smile of her own. “It’s nice. Thanks for letting me stay here.”
He nods, and leaves her to herself. Marinette looks out the window, heading to the balcony, and sighs, leaning against the window. The air here is supposed to be much cleaner, but it doesn’t taste any better than the air at home…
A light flashes.
Her eye is drawn to a lake… and across the lake, a mansion…
It’s pretty. And interesting… she runs down, and taps Cheng-Shifu on the shoulder. “Um, what’s with the mansion? I thought this was a fishing town?”
He laughs. “The Agreste Mansion is from many years ago. It is empty.” His face suddenly becomes far more serious. “You do not go there, Marinette.”
“Dangerous,” he says firmly. “The floors could give out. It has happened before.”
She sighs. “Can I just go look, if I promise not to go inside?”
He thinks for a moment. “Come back before the tide locks you there. Do not go inside.”
She smiles, and heads out, as the sun sets. Something about that mansion just… draws her to it. She wants to see what’s going on there.
The lake- well, marsh, really- is easy to wade through, on her way. It’s strange… as the sun sets, and the sky is painted pink and gold, the lights in the manor seem to flicker on. Didn’t her uncle say the house was empty? Not just empty, but dangerous for anyone to be in?
And yet… there! In the window! A teenage boy, looking out the window! He presses a hand to the window, and looks down… their eyes meet, and she gasps. His eyes are wide, and bright, and full of emotions. His blond curls frame his face, seeming to blow gently, although he’s inside…
She waves, and he gives a sad smile, shaking his head. He retreats from the window, and the lights on the house flicker off. It’s almost as if they were never on in the first place…
A Portrait Worth a Thousand Words (Bruce Wayne x Reader)
aka My Sad Attempt at Fluff for Bruce
The portrait wasn’t the
original – that one had been one of
the many things lost in the fire that claimed Wayne Manor. No, this one was actually a copy that had once
hung for many years at Wayne Tower in downtown Gotham. Of course, Bruce made
sure that it had been replaced with a duplicate he’d commissioned, earning
admiration from many who saw it as the act of a loving, successful son who was
determined to always keep another legacy of his parents nearby.
It therefore puzzled you
that he didn’t keep it aboveground in the Glass House but, instead, subterranean
in the Batcave. It became even more perplexing when you realized that it was
placed in a hallway that Bruce seemed to rarely walk down, quite possibly even
finding alternate options to the route if he could. Most people would have a
painting of their long-deceased parents somewhere in a common area or even
private one; just somewhere where they could always see them and smile at them,
maybe even hold a conversation. Then again, Bruce was not most people, being a
tall, stupid-rich, former-playboy who moonlighted as knuckle-baring vigilante
in a bat suit.
This is literally a piece of something. I’m not certain about it yet, but I’m putting it up anyway while I work out this next Sins installment (I appreciate your patience, by the way!)…MAJOR WARNINGS for mentions of molestation, graphic violence and language.
I study him as his violent shaking becomes frightened trembling and his struggling becomes squirming. He stopped screaming a moment ago. Currents of sweat and tears pour from his distraught face. His cheeks puff out from time to time, as if he were about to spill his guts on the platform, but the rubber ball gag in his mouth prevents such an accident.
His imposing six-foot-two frame is smaller to me now as I watch him. Bound to a folding chair with metal cuffs and black bondage tape, his leather-tan skin gradually pales as he continues to bleed out into the swimming pool.
Somehow, it doesn’t seem to be enough.
Severing the primary fingers he used to violate his ten-year-old stepdaughter was fairly satisfying. Cutting all of them off so he could never harm her again, even more so.
There’s a likely possibility that I might have gotten a little carried away with the industrial-strength scissors. But it seemed to get my message across.
Still, something seems…lacking.
Then, I see it. A gleam of silver in my kit. Always sharp. Always so reliable.
I lift it so that his eyes might catch the glint of light. They do. His stormy gray eyes cloud with terror.
I can’t help the wicked smile that appears on my face. He chose it for me.
A way to drive my point home.
“This just in: former Appellate Court Judge Johnson P. Kearns was found dead this morning. His body was discovered by a staff worker at the Don Nash Community Center on 71st Street, the grisly details left undisclosed to the public. Investigators suspect the killing is a premeditated act….”
So I didn’t trust him that much.
Clemency was never one of my strong suits when it came to people like Kearns.
One more hypocrite asshole off the street, I mused over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch watching the news.
“At this time, we are seeking out as many leads as possible.”
Oh. Hello, sexy Irish accent.
I looked up and took in the sight of a sharply-dressed man on my screen. I’d missed the name, sadly, but I could listen to that voice all day.
“We’re checking cameras and looking for potential eyewitnesses. If anyone has information pertaining to the case, call us, stop in, or send us a message. No matter what, your identity will be protected.”
Dark hair and sea-glass eyes too? Fuck me, is it Christmas already?
“…Kearns was 43 years old, and served as appellate court judge for only five years before resigning from office after accusations of child molestation surfaced. He is survived by his wife and their three children.”
What the fuck ever. They survived him. There’s a difference.
How many more will it take for people to see that these ‘victims’ are anything but? Frankly I lost the ability to care after the first four.
I can keep going. Maybe until that gorgeous detective with the beautiful eyes and sinful mouth cuffs me.
Request: So the reader and Crowley are madly in love, but the reader knows nothing about THAT world and def doesn’t know he’s the king of hell. Maybe a lil bit of angst and lotsa fluff. Anyway the reader finds out and yea…
A/N: Sorry this took so long to write, I restarted this like 3 times because I kept getting stuck. Hope you like this! (sorry if it sucks :s)
You worked in your local café and one day Crowley was in the area, waiting on the boys to arrive so he could give them some help with a case. He was at on a bench on the sidewalk opposite the café and while he waited he saw you open the door and set up the tables out front. He was mesmerized by how effortlessly you moved around them, putting all the flower vases and menus on the tables. He assumed this was such a routine for you, that you could probably do it with your eyes shut. In the time that it took you to walk back into the café to get the little pots of sugar and whatnot to put on the tables, 3 people had sat down at their own tables and Crowley watched as you took all their orders with a smile on your face.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d gotten up and started crossing the street. Suddenly, he found himself at the counter and you were greeting him with a dashing smile.
“Hi, what can I get you today?” You beamed at him.
“Ummm…” Since Crowley didn’t eat all that much, he has no idea what to actually do now that he was standing there. After a few seconds he broke out of his trance and picked out a few pastries and bought 2 coffees to take away.
“This isn’t all for me, if you’re wondering.”, he clarified, in case you thought it was strange for one man to buy all this, “I’m meeting two of my uh… colleagues.”
You smiled at him as you put the pastries in a box while he spoke, “There’s no judgement here even if it was all for you. I could probably do the same if I was really hungry.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow
You nodded and laughed unabashedly, which Crowley thought was very endearing.
He paid and as he walked out the door you gave him a quick wave, wishing him a good day, and he smiled and gave a small salute as he walked away. As you served the next person in the queue, you secretly hoped he’d be back again sometime soon.
Crowley resumed his place on the bench, and within a few minutes, he heard the familiar rumble of Baby’s engine. He took a deep breath and prepared for whatever quips the brothers were going to give him.
He held the food and drinks out to them as they walked over, and after a brief glare laced with suspicion, Dean happily took the box from him upon noticing the pastries inside.
Sam took a coffee slowly and sipped it before speaking, “What’s this for?”. His relaxed expression changed to a more suspicious one and spoke again before Crowley had the opportunity to, “What else are we gonna have to do that you didn’t tell us about?”.
“Nothing. I just thought I’d do something nice for once, slowly climb my way back up the Winchester trust ladder. Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just unexpected, is all. Thanks Crowley.” Sam spoke softly. Dean nodded and gave a thumbs up while his mouth was too full to speak.
You’d watched this encounter from behind the counter, while there was a lull in customers to deal with, thinking it was strange how the sharply dressed man had coworkers who wore plaid and jeans, making you even more intrigued about the man you served.
You hadn’t seen Crowley again since which had been disappointing. About a week later you’d started putting the food out in the cabinet on the counter when you heard the bell above the door chime.
“Morning. What can I get you?” You spoke a little less happily than usual, until you heard that distinct British voice.
“Just a coffee please.” He spoke and you looked up to see him smiling at you.
“Hey stranger. One coffee coming up.” you smiled back and moved along the counter to make his coffee.
You began talking for a while, and Crowley told you he would’ve come back sooner, if it hadn’t been such a hectic week at his work (and by that he really meant he’d been held captive by some angels for a week, but the less you knew, the better).
From then on, Crowley visited almost every day, and you guys became close friends considering the limited interactions you had. After quite a while, you worked up the courage to ask him out to dinner, and while he wanted to refuse to keep you safe, he couldn’t help but say yes.
The relationship the pair of you had been going great until one morning you were taking out the trash to the back of the café and you spotted Crowley and a woman who was dressed very smartly. Crowley was pinning the woman to the wall, and the tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you expected them to kiss, but a large blade came out of his sleeve and he stabbed the woman, and a bright blue light emanated from her eyes and mouth before she slumped to the ground.
You gasped and dropped the trash bag in your hand, which made a loud clanging noise from the cans inside.Crowley whipped his head around and held the blade up, expecting another angel but when he saw you he dropped it.
“(Y/N), this isn’t what it looks like.” He held his hands up as you continues to stare at him.
“I’m pretty sure it is. You just killed her.”
“Please, just let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain Crowley, I have to call the police.” You turned around to run to the phone, but somehow Crowley was there.
He managed to sit you down in the kitchen, before making sure the sign out front said ‘CLOSED’.
“You’re not going to believe me on this, but I am telling the truth.” He looked up at you to see your reaction, noticing your expression was a mix of worry and skepticism.
He sighed before continuing, “I’m a demon.”
He closed his eyes and when he opened them they were black, and you gasped and moved back slightly.
“And that woman out there was an angel.”
You stood up and started pacing, mumbling to yourself ‘this is all a bad dream’, ‘this can’t be real’ and similar things, before Crowley put his hands on your shoulders to make you look at him, but you moved out of his grasp.
“I didn’t want you to find out this way. But, there’s more…I’m not just a demon. I’m the King of Hell.”
“Look, if you don’t believe me, I can show you, and I’ll bring you back here and you’ll never see me again. It’s safer that way.” He said dejectedly.
“Safer? What do you mean?”
“People talk. Well, demons and angels talk, and the angels found out about you and were going to use you as leverage to get what they want from me. That’s why I killed that angel out there. She was coming to kill you.”
You still couldn’t really form a proper sentence, just looking at Crowley with a hurt expression.
He snapped his fingers and you found yourself in a dark room with a throne. You span around, confused at how you ended up here, it finally dawning on you that he must have been telling the truth.
You heard Crowley say “Welcome to Hell.” and turned to face him.
Before you knew it, you were back in your café and you sat down, processing everything that happened.
“So hold on. When you were meeting your ‘colleagues’ when you first came in here, were they demons?”
“No, but they’re hunters. Again, this is going to sound ridiculous, but all the bedtime stories you were probably told are true… They hunt ghosts, vampires werewolves. You name it, they’ve probably killed one. They’ve even stopped the Apocalypse a few times.” he explained slowly.
“This is too much to take in right now. I need to take a walk. When I come back, I want that body gone and we’re going to have a talk about how we’re going to move forward.” You stood up and walked out the back door, taking a quick glance as the supposed angel laying dead on the ground, when you noticed burns on the wall in the shape of wings. “Shit.” you muttered to yourself as you carried on.
You were only gone about 15 minutes, and when you came back, the angel was gone, as promised. You came back in through the open door and found Crowley facing away from you, his fingers drumming on the nearby table nervously.
You coughed to get his attention and he turned quickly.
“Look (Y/N), I’ll just leave, it’s better for the both of us if you never see me again.”
“Hold on. We’ve been together for a little while now and you don’t just get to drop that on me and leave. You’re not going anywhere, because despite all this…this crap, I still love you. And the fact that you’re the King of Hell doesn’t change that.” a tear rolled down your cheek as you spoke and you sighed, “Well that’s something I never expected to say.”
“You really still love me after all that?” The shock on Crowley’s face was very evident.
You stayed silent, and thought for a second. “Yes. You’re still the same person who charmed me in the beginning, now with some strange, but interesting extras.”
“I love you too (Y/N). I’m sorry about all this. I should have just been blunt at the start and let you decide if you wanted to be a part of this.”
You walked close to him and hugged him, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms encased you, “Yeah, well it’s in the past now. What matters is now.”
Warnings: None, unless you need a warning that Percival will slay your soul with his perfection.
Request: “SOMEDAY KILLED ME. I’m typing from the grave … to request more Percival, because I can’t deal. Maybe something with 50/102? (I’m weak for danger-dodging kisses.)”
50. In order to avoid a dangerous situation, both characters are forced to stay hidden in a small, enclosed space.
102. “Kiss me, quick!”
A/N: AH what is wrong with me? Why am I such a jabber jaw? I literally can’t write anything short to save my life so consider this the first part of a two part series. Hopefully I’ll have the next one done tomorrow. Once again, I’ve made up some characters and something for the sake of the plot but hope you don’t mind. Eek!
The sound of tiny, flapping wings was incessant. I narrowed my eyes, rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan, because now I meant business. The paper currently fluttering over my head, which had been intricately folded into the shape of a bird, didn’t seem at all phased by this. I had already decided to jinx whoever had thought it was a great idea to send me a memo and then charm it to act like an utter idiot when I tried to coax it down from the ceiling. It had to be a joke. I was sure that when I finally got my hands on the paper and opened it up, there would be a big ‘HA’ written in bold, dark letters. It would take some investigating to figure out just who the culprit what. It was a good thing that was what I did for a living.
“Alright, you stubborn piece of crap.” I muttered, brandishing my wand toward it. “Accio memo!”
Summary: Dean x Reader - The reader and Winchesters’ heist group gets a new case that forces Dean and her to spend a bit of quality alone time.
(Con man AU inspired by Leverage)
Word Count: 2153
Note: My first attempt at writing an AU (If you don’t count Wonderland since it wasn’t technically an AU) >< Please let me know what you think and if you wish for me to continue it, since I might suck at this AU stuff Oo World building is my weak point in writing.
“We’ve got a new mark,” Bobby’s
voice was clear over the phone as the rest of your little ragtag group sat down
around the table in the Winchester brothers’ hideout bunker. As always the
older, retired military man was the man with the plan and the guy who decided
on your cases. Grinning you kept your eyes glued on the speaker attached to the phone as you accepted
the manila folder from Sam, the youngest of the notorious Winchesters and your
intelligence guy, already feeling the adrenaline burst that came with a new
con. “These guys are real monsters,” Bobby added from the speaker system as you
quickly skimmed the pages detailing the target of your next heist.
was designed for these type of cases. Dealing out your own special type of
vengeance. Handling the cases that somehow bypassed the law. Occasionally
stealing from bad guys just to steal from bad guys… ‘Cause the days and
sometimes weeks between cons could get boring.
it, you got to go scaling buildings, trick the best security systems in the
world and pretend to be Catwoman, though you knew you were technically better
than her, all whilst doing good. Though the police most likely wouldn’t agree
with ya. Not that it mattered. Your little nameless group of the best fighters,
specialists and con men in the world were just too good to be caught.
Confidence was everything, the literal “Con in Con Man”. You could probably all walk into the office of the
head of FBI and gain control of the task-force out to catch you if you wanted
to. Actually, Dean had told you once in between cases that Bobby apparently had
the Interpol task-force out to catch you in his back pocket.
Really? Do these people have no soul?” Your hacker, and best friend, Charlie
was the first to speak up as you read through the detailed case folder Sam had
created. The words laced with disgust and seasoned with a frown as she read
through the papers. As always being nearly a full page in front of everyone else due
to her speed reading. The girl was a genius, a kinda scared and slightly
neurotic genius, but a genius all the same.
I got the idea from an unusual AU fic ideas post. That’s all I will say. Enjoy!
“Welcome to Jabberwock Flowers.
Hajime looked around the small flower shop. He’d passed by it on his walk to work several times, but never set foot in it until today. Behind the counter was an unhealthily pale young man around his age. His sickly white hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was smiling at him.
Author’s Note: I wrote a little thing inspired by that oh-too-brief Cophine clip we got last week ;) I’ve split it into a few parts, so there will be more to follow. Hope you enjoy!
“These people are freaks,” Cosima mumbles beneath her breath, fidgeting with her bowtie.
She watches herself in the long antique mirror, brow furrowed in concentration as she tries to get the knot right. The tuxedo is ill-fitted, undoubtedly intended for a man, and it does nothing to compliment her natural curves. She feels like a child playing dress up with her father’s clothes but even still, she’s determined to make it work.
“I know,” Delphine agrees. “We just have to play along for now.”
Would you consider adding more to that utterly incredible burlesque ficlet? :)
Hmm, well it was supposed to be a stand-alone drabble. However, after reading this my mind went in one direction…hope you enjoy the direction ;)
On any other night, Kylo Ren wouldn’t have a clue as to what a fallen angel tasted like. But all the way from the taxi to his front door, he found out. Gripping the back of his suit, and latched against his mouth, she tasted of mint and mischief. This demanding, sweet creature who grazed her teeth along his lower lip as Kylo’s keys rattled in the lock.
“Inside,” he groaned, head tilting back as she trailed her lust lower. “Let’s get inside.”
“I want you inside,” she gasped, and that was it for Kylo.
Flinging the door open, he pulled her in. Picking up the tempting tease of a woman in one fluid motion, and having her against an inside wall before the door swung shut behind them. Grinding his hips forward, he adored every last tremble that had nothing to do with the door frame shaking. Every broken shudder from her petal pink mouth got him off, and he nuzzled against her throat.
“You are so damn sexy,” he spoke against her skin, nipping between a lick.
As Kylo’s lips possessively slanted over hers again, Rey’s thighs squeezed his sides. Keeping him closer still, leaving nothing uncertain about her desires as every last neuron inside of her fired up when he touched her. Sliding one hand along the wall, Kylo turned the door lock closed while continuing to open her up. Showing off a bit of his practical even as each skillful tongue flick proved how thoroughly he intended to satisfy Rey’s every last vice.
“Bedroom, now.” Rey gasped.
Twisting her fingers through his dark hair, Rey ruffled up the businessman as he steered them towards his room. Appreciating the look of shameless desire on him, never realizing how much she’d already unraveled the man who’d been tightly wound up for months. If she had a fantasy, he was it- this was it- and Rey could have pinched herself over how everything felt surprisingly natural between them. Judging by his immaculate flat, he was possibly her polar opposite, but they’d somehow clicked. All the way back to his home, they’d either laughed or kissed, and up until that point they’d shared nothing shy or awkward at all until Rey tugged hard enough on his strands that he accidentally stumbled over a plant on the ground. Steadying her against a wall, Kylo grimaced, and Rey couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadistic pride in bringing a touch of filthy fun into her stranger’s pristine world.
“Sorry,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I don’t mind a little jostling.”
“Why does everything you say sound like dirty talk?”
Because all I can think about is seeing you above me.