strawberry margarita

For Worse

This was a Request for an Anon. They wanted a Story where Bruce Cheated and the Bat Boys react. If you have request go ahead and make one! Also Let me know if you want a part two. (UPDATE: Lots of people have asked for a Part 2 so i’ll start working on it soon ^_^)  part two: here


You weren’t much of a wine drinker, not much of a drinker period in all actuality. When you did drink you preferred the sweetness of a strawberry margarita that masked the taste of alcohol. However, right now, as the slightly bitter liquid pooled to the back of your throat, you couldn’t imagine a better tasting drink.

Sitting on the large black marble kitchen counter, you swung your legs with childlike glee as the world around you suddenly started to feel a little hazy. Patting at your cheek with a sweater covered hand to wipe away some tear stains you filled up your glass of Zinfandel with the other.

The bottle clinks hollowly against the counter just as Alfred rounds the corner into the kitchen. He looks at your form sitting on the counter with wide worried eyes but you can’t be bothered to give him more than a half hearted crooked smile as you knock back half of your glass.

“Are you alright ma’am?” He asks moving slowly toward you. He can clearly see the intoxicated state that you’re in and he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Peachy,” you say with an airy sigh.

“It doesn’t seem so,” he says picking up the large empty bottle of wine. “It’s not even past noon ma’am.”

“I don’t know if I care that much Alfred,” you say with a chuckle. “This is usually the only time I get to be alone.”

He looks at you worriedly, “Maybe right now you shouldn’t be alone.”

You look at him, nose scrunching up in anger and a frown pulling at your lips. “I think I should, you aren’t exactly innocent either, are you?”

Alfred doesn’t waver when meeting your gaze, save for a brief flash of guilt that runs through his eyes. “Why don’t I fix you some coffee and breakfast to help sober you up.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Toast is probably the best option.”

“Where you ever going to tell me?”

“I know you like eggs, so I’ll scramble some for you.”

“How many times did you watch him fuck her?” You say as you grab at his arm.

He stops his rambling at looks at you with a slight tear in his eye, “I’m sorry Mrs. Wayne.”

You look at the older man and see the pain in his eyes and think about the shame he must feel, he is the one who raised Bruce afterall.

“Were you sorry enough to ask him to stop?”

“He pushed me away.”

“Of course he did,” you say snidely letting go of the man and pushing yourself off of the counter. Your sock covered feet hit the floor with slight pat and you walk over to the sink to put your glass down. “When breakfast is done, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“…Of course ma’am.”

***

Wallowing around in your bed and wiping away ever falling tears all day wasn’t something that you thought you’d be doing when you married Bruce Wayne. However, at the moment you couldn’t think of what else to do. You needed to get your emotions out and rest at the same time. Damian would be home from school soon and the rest of the boys would be home for dinner.

The familiar roar of an engine caught your attention and you felt your body tense. Anticipation and anxiety wracked your form as you waited for the familiar footsteps of your husband to enter the room.

What would you say to him? Could you even bring it up? What if what you saw only happened in a dream? He would never actually hurt you this way would he? He had promised to love and cherish only you after all. How could Batman of all people break his promise?

In your thoughts, you’d barely heard the door to your bedroom open. He doesn’t say anything when he walks through the door. You hear the rustle of clothing and assume that he is removing his suit jacket. You assumptions were proved correct when he comes to sit on the side of your shared bed and pulls the blanket from over your head. He reveales himself to be in his white shirt and black suit pants.

His blue eyes scan over your form worriedly as he rubs a large thumb on your forehead. You have to bite your tongue to prevent sharp words from spewing out of you and rejecting his sweetness.

“Are you still not feeling well?” He asked voice soft and warm.

You shake your head.

He sighs with a sad smile and runs the pad of his thumb over you cheekbone, “I’ll have Alfred make you some soup.”

You don’t respond and stare at him relatively blankly and while this bothers him he shrugs it off to whatever sickness it was that was bothering you.

He stands from the bed and moves over to the closet to change into something more comfortable. You take the opportunity to sit up and push your body up against the headboard and you watch him. As he pulls the shirt off his body you can see every scar and bruise that he’d accrued recently, even the ones on his neck that hadn’t placed there forcefully.

When he slips the grey sweatshirt on over his head your trace is broken.

“Can I say something?”

He jumps slightly at the sound of your voice and turns to look at you with curious blue orbs.

“I always thought it would be Talia y’know? Especially on account of how Damian got here, but I thought it would be her.”

“What?” He asks with furrowed dark eyebrows.

“I always thought that the thing with Selina was harmless flirting, even if she did kiss you once or twice, I never really got mad.” You can feel your throat slick and tighten with nerves but your belly is full of rage.

You can see it on his face when it registers what you were talking about and the blanching of his face causes you to get angrier for some reason. You stand up quickly from your position on the bed and instinctively he holds a hand out in attempt to calm you.

“Why would you do that to me? What have I not given you that you couldn’t think ‘I shouldn’t do this, I have a wife waiting at home’?”

“We were caught up in the moment, it wasn’t supposed to happen.” He tries to explain.

“Multiple times, you fucked her multiple times! On different days, on different weeks!”

He looks at you pathetically and you suddenly find that your positions have been reversed and he is the one sitting on the bed while you are the one standing.

“You know I thought this would happen when we were dating, and I told myself that it would be much better if it happened then because I could just leave. But now I can’t, I’m stuck here with you, in this giant stupid house.” You can feel your tears start to well up again but you quickly wipe at your eyes in an attempt to wipe them away. “Were you going to stop sleeping with her? Or were you just waiting to get caught?”

He doesn’t respond and he hangs his head down in shame.

“Look at me!,” you snap agitated and causing him to meet your gaze. “You were bold enough to go and do it no you have to take the consequences the same way you did them.”

“I wasn’t going to stop,” he said truthfully. You feel your jaw twitch at the honesty and the frown that’s pulling at your lips is almost painful. “Selina has always been important to me I suppose, and it felt natural.”

It was almost as if you could hear your heart breaking and you couldn’t stop the sob that ran its way through your throat. You slapped a hand over your mouth in shame and turned away from him as the tears freely flowed down your face. Almost instinctively at your crying from, Bruce was at your side with a large hand on your back trying to comfort you.

“Don’t. Touch. Me!” You snap slapping his hands away. “Why did you marry me? If you felt that way you should have been with her!”

“I love you,” he says desperately.

“No you don’t,” you say pushing him away from you. “If you did you wouldn’t have done this.”

“Thats-” he starts but he stops himself.

“Were you going to say ‘That’s not true’?” You ask incredulously with wide eyes. “So you were planning on cheating on me anyway.”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“God, I’ve wasted all of this time on you,” you say moving around him looking for a pair of shoes to slip on and your keys. “All of the things that I could have done, places I could  have gone, and people who would have loved me, I gave it up for you. I put my career on hold so I could help you. So that Wayne Enterprises would have someone there while you rested. So that our son could have something other than mask to raise him. But you couldn’t do one thing for me? You couldn’t say no one time for me?”

He doesn’t respond, he knows he shouldn’t respond, nothing he can say will make this situation better.

Once you’ve collected your shoes, bag, and care keys, you let out a sigh,”I had really hoped that once you came home that there would be some way that you could deny this and I would have believed you. That I’d been slipped some sort of drug and had been hallucinating the things that I saw, but I was too hopeful.” You wipe at your eyes. “The worse part about it is that you’ve trapped me, Bruce. What can I do? My life has become our kids, your company, and your mission. That has been my job since we’ve gotten married. I lived for us Bruce, why couldn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he pleads. “She was just-”

This isn’t about her, Bruce.” You shake your head and make your way to the bedroom door. “I’m going to stay at the penthouse. Don’t come by. Tell Damian that I’ll come get him for lunch on Saturday like I always do.”

“Are you coming back?”

You look at his sad blue orbs and shake your head, “I don’t know.”

***

Damian was the first to arrive home. Bruce watched from the bedroom window as he and Alfred made their way into the house. What was he supposed to tell him? Not just Damian, but everyone. That he’d driven their mother away and he didn’t know when she’d be back? That he’d ruined their family? No, never that. How could he break his children even more than they already had been.

With a frown, Bruce locked the door to the bedroom and sat in silence and darkness. If he’d gone to the cave he would have opened himself up to questions. In here, for the moment, he was safe. No one would bother him here.

***

“Hey Alfred, where is mom?” Dick asked, taking a drink of his water.

“Yes, I would like to know as well, Pennyworth. It’s not often that you come and pick me up from school,” Damian started pushing around some of his food with his fork.

“Mom didn’t get you from school?” Tim questioned with a furrowed brow. “That’s her thing though.”

“Hence the question,” Damian replied with smirk causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Maybe she got tired of you being a smartass and didn’t feel like being bothered,” Jason adds in with a raised eyebrow and a smirk of his own as he rocks back on the legs of his chair.

“Unlikely, considering I’m her favorite,” the youngest said crossing his arms over his chest. “Besides, I haven’t seen her at all, not since this morning.”

“What?” The three older boys questioned alarmed.

“Alfred?” Dick questions again to the older man who hasn’t raised his head from his plate since the questioning started. “Where is mom?”

“I’m afraid, Master Grayson, that it would be best if you went to ask Master Wayne,” the butler deflects.

“Has something happened to, mom?” Tim asks seriously.

“I cannot answer that,” Alfred replies again.

In frustration Jason pushes away from the dining room table to make his way up to the master bedroom, the other boys following quickly behind him.

It only takes a minute for Jason to stomp his way to the bedroom and even less for him to begin banging on the door.

“Open the door up, old man” He starts impatiently. “We just want to know where mom is.”

There is a pause as the boys listen for movement, and when there isn’t any Jason pounds on the door again, “I’ll break the door open!”

“Jason!” Dick scolds. “Mom will be mad if you break her door.”

“Well how else am I supposed to get him to open it?”

“We could use our brains?” Tim suggests.

“No need,” Damian says pulling out his blade and shoving it in the jam of the door. He uses his weight as pressure and pops open the door.

“That still counts as messing up the door,” Dick says pointing at the ruined lock.

“It’s still intact isn’t it?”

“Whatever.”

Tim pushes open the door giving way to the light from the hallway to flood into the dark room. Tim quickly finds the light switch and the room lights up.

“Father?” Damian questions when the lights flicker on and he sees the man sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in hands.

The man doesn’t respond to his name being called and this sends the boys into a slight panic. Dick quickly walks over and places a large hand on Bruce’s shoulder and tries to shake him out of his trance.

The man looks at the boys and sadness flashes in his eyes as he realizes he has to explain how he’s taken their mother from them.

“Where is mom?” Tim asks.

Damian watches from a distance and takes in the state of the room. On the occasions that he’d have nightmares, he usually finds himself in his parents bed snuggled against his mother in the expansive bed as she protected him from the dreams. He probably knew better than anyone what their bedroom was supposed to look like.He noted that the dresser was suspiciously bare of his mother’s jewelry boxes and perfume bottles.  He casts a quick glance at Jason who seems to realize that something is off about the room.

Damian walks around the bed to his mother’s closet and opens it only find it empty. Jason stands behind his youngest brother staring at the empty room perplexed.

“This is her’s,” Damian mutters, “Where is her stuff?”

When it clicks for Jason he’s consumed with rage and he’s stomping over to Bruce again and pushing his startled brothers away. His large hand is around Bruce’s collar in an instant and he’s pulling the man up.

“What did you do? Why did she leave?” Jason questions acidly, his own blue eyes clashing violently with Bruce’s.

“Leave?” Dick questions. “How do you know she left?”

“Majority of Ummi’s things are gone. Like they were packed up.”

“She left us?” Tim questions swallowing thickly.

“I’m pretty sure she left him!” Jason hisses shaking the man who is still staring blankly at him. “What did you do?”

“What could you have done to make her leave like this?” Tim asks.

Dick examines his adoptive father keenly as he runs the scenarios through his mind. His mother adored Bruce, so why would she just leave?

Seemingly having enough of being pushed around Bruce quickly wraps his hand around Jason’s wrists and squeezed before ripping the hand off of his collar. The stretched fabric falls limply around his neck as he looks at the four of his sons angrily.

“You all need to leave,” He says sternly. “Your mother is safe.”

Dick’s gaze falls onto where the collar hangs limply at Bruce’s neck and he spots a purple bruise on his neck that causes a thought to run through his mind and it makes his hair stand on end.

“You wouldn’t,” Dick says with a shake of his head and a disbelieving smile. “You couldn’t, not to Mom, right?”

“What are talking about, Grayson?” Damian asks looking in between the two men.

Bruce meets Dick’s gaze and the younger man feels himself getting hot with anger the longer he holds his gaze.

Tim examines his father and finds the same bruise on Bruce’s neck and he puts it together. Instead of letting his anger consume him he glances back at his younger brother and grabs his arm.

“Let go of me, Drake,” Damian struggles as Tim pulls him along.

“Alfred knows where she went doesn’t he?” Tim asks glancing at the guilty man. A quick nod is all he needs as he proceeds down stairs with the young boy.

“Who was it with? Viki? Talia? Who?” Dick questions angrily.

Jason snorts in anger as he realizes what his brother is implying.

“Selina,” Bruce responds after a long pause.

Dick shakes his head in anger, “I knew you could be an asshole but not like this.”

Dick locks eyes with his brother, “We should find out where mom is and go see her in the morning. I’m sure she wants to be alone now.”

Jason nods and watches as his Dick leaves the room. He stares down the older man for a second before stomping out.

***

It seemed like it was always raining in Gotham, despite whatever the season was. At the moment that suited you just fine. The wide open space of the penthouse was smaller than what you were used to but still felt empty. You were happy that Bruce hadn’t tried to come and see you, you don’t think you could have been as civil as you were if he had come to see you.

So when there was a knock on the door, you felt dread fill your stomach. You quickly padded over to the door and looked out of the peephole and saw the distorted visage of four familiar figures.

“Boys!” You say with wide eyes as you swing open the door.

“Ummi!” The youngest voice calls out as he leaps at you burying his face in your stomach as his small but strong arms wrap themselves around your waist.

“Damian,” you say with a smile, running a comforting hand along his back.

“We were worried,” Dick says with a smile and a shrug as he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

“You’re all so sweet,” you say with a smile moving to the side and letting the boys into the home.

“We didn’t want you to be alone,” Tim says, “We also wanted to make sure your weren’t in danger.”

“Oh,” you say sadly and closed the door behind them. Damian let’s go your waist and instead opts to hold your hand. “I shouldn’t have left in such a hurry, I know it can be unsafe.”

“We understand, mom” Jason says with a smile. You meet his normally stern eyes and you feel your tear ducts well up. “Hey, don’t cry! I brought food.”

We, brought food,” Dick pops in as Jason shows you a bag in is hand. “Tim set the table.”

Damian brings you over to sit you at the dining room table as Tim makes a place for the each of you.

Jason and Dick bring the food out and then sit down to join you.

“We’re sorry about Bruce,” Dick starts looking at you with a sad smile. “But we understand and we’ll be here for you.”

The boys nod their heads in agreement.

You smile at your boys, feeling slightly better than you had been in hours, “Thank you.”

moods ‘n’ concept playlists -;

you and dracula are on the run but are safe on the safehouse’s rooftop, smoking cherry cigarettes n licking draCOLA ice pops watching the city skyline

the late night hustle fast-forwards to the break of dawn, you dance in your underwear up and early, while frying up breakfast 

you have been defeated, you have triumphed, whatever it is this time, you always come out scratched and on top of the world

it’s the morning after a great night and you’re really feelin’ yourself 

while in the room full of stars inside the castle, gazing at the scene, you travel through the vast galaxy looking for him (a vld playlist)

you’re alone at a neon lit bar in the backstreets of chinatown, drinking strawberry margaritas until 2am, fiddling with the tip of a knife on your finger (kpop)

your helicopter crashed n you’re running away from heretics from the farmlands nearby while recording the whole thing (an outlast II playlist)

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🍓Frozen Strawberry Margarita🍓 

anonymous asked:

Concept: the little eel faces on Kaldur's hands change their expression depending on his mood

Being a good archer means having a good eye for detail, and Artemis has never been anything but excellent.

So it’s understandably galling when she realizes, three years into their friendship, that Kaldur’s tattoos are more than they seem.

They’re at the annual League Winter Solstice Party when she first notices, snatching his wrist as he’s about to hand Harper (on a short break from his fruitless quest to find whoever-the-fuck, Speedy, the first Roy Harper) a glass of mulled wine.

“Why are your tattoos happy,” she slurs, squinting through the pleasant buzz of alcohol. The Watchtower falls under international rules when it comes to alcohol–everyone eighteen and over is legal, and like any self-respecting American teen, she’s taking advantage while she can.

“Can they be happy? Harper, hey, Roy,” she says, and shoves Kaldur’s hand in Roy’s face. She gestures to the smiling eels that adorn Kaldur’s hands. “Am I drunk? Why are his hand snakes so, so smiley?”

Roy hmm’s, faking intrigue while shooting Kaldur an amused look. He probably thought Artemis didn’t see it, which she totally did, because detail, but she chooses not to mention it. Because, well, answers.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Blondie,” Roy says, smirking. “Does someone need a glass of water, kiddo?”

“Fuck your water,” Artemis murmurs, dropping Kaldur’s wrist. She steals the mulled wine first, downing it in one gulp to prove a point.

Roy throws his hands up in mock defeat. “Careful, Kal,” he jokes, “Looks like we got a badass over here.”

Kaldur smiles, warm with amusement at their antics. “A badass who I sincerely hope doesn’t think that a hangover will be getting her out of training tomorrow,” he teases gently, eyes dancing.

It’s a look that she doesn’t get to see on him often, Artemis realizes with a pang. Suddenly nostalgic, she throws her arms around the both of them, drawing them together.

“We should dance,” she asserts firmly, gesturing drunkenly with one heel-clad foot at the impromptu dance floor. Zattanna and Rocket are already up there, swaying drunkenly to Nat King Cole. “C’mon.”

She manages to pull the two of them to the floor, all three rocking gently in awkward tandem before Wally comes and pulls her away for a dance of their own–Kaldur I can understand, but don’t tell me you’re leaving me for Harper of all people, babe–and as she’s pulled away she sees Roy throw Kaldur’s arms over his shoulders as he leads the other man in a drunken waltz.

As Wally spins her around the room–he’s had three times the number of drinks as her, at least, but speedster metabolisms and so on–she catches a glimpse of Kaldur’s face tucked over Roy’s shoulder, blush flushing his high cheeks bones. She can see the little eels, too, grinning, where they rest on the strong muscles of Roy’s neck.

Well I’ll be damned, she thinks, and resolves to tease the two of them with this story when they finally get their shit together.

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time go

pairing: harry potter x pansy parkinson

setting: modern, non-magical, escort + hockey au

word count: 8,586 

note@thetourguidebarbie​ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you’re such a delight, literally a l l of the time, and i had so much fun writing this for you. i hope you like it!!!!

link: ao3


The girl sitting at the end of the bar is the kind of manufactured pretty that Harry usually avoids; expensively dressed and immaculately groomed, all pin-straight black hair and pouty pink lips and cleavage that’s either surgically enhanced or the product of a really good push-up bra. She’s sipping at an enormous strawberry margarita, phone in hand, her legs crossed and her expression bored, idly scrolling through what appears to be a chocolate cake tag on Instagram. There’s a Flyers game playing on the flat-screen directly in front of her. She hasn’t looked up once.

And—

Okay.

Okay.

Harry is twenty-two years old. He’d dated the same girl he’d lost his virginity to for almost half a decade. He’s never gotten a blowjob in a bar bathroom, or had a threesome with a teammate, or taken advantage of the fact that the North American media has been calling him the “Savior of the Franchise” since before he’d even been drafted.

He keeps to himself.

He doesn’t hook up, or pick up, or talk about hooking up and picking up when he’s in the locker room. He plays hockey. He focuses on hockey. He lives and breathes and bleeds hockey—often literally.

But.

But.

He’s single for the first time in his adult life. He’s on a twelve game point streak, he’s leading the entire league in assists, and he’s been hearing chatter from the front office about maybe getting an “A” on his sweater next season.

And he knows what puck bunnies are. Just like he knows to always carry his own condoms and to never send dick pics with his face in the frame and to categorically avoid cute, inexplicably tan blonde girls in Toronto who claim not to recognize him. He knows. He’s had extensive media training. He’s also suffered through more awkward NHL-sanctioned lectures on sexually transmitted diseases than he’s had birthdays.

So.

So.

The girl sitting at the end of the bar isn’t really his type, but he thinks, maybe, that’s the point.

|| continue reading on ao3 ||

Press Coverage/Less Coverage (Tony Stark x Reader) (Part 2/2)

Part 1 is HERE

Warnings: Daddy kink. There’s a little bit of tony hating himself but like if you’ve seen the iron man movies you already know what that’s like. NSFW.

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 7.2k (oh my fucking god how did this get so long)

A/N: I started this fic in june of last year and it’s just now finished. I hate my procrastinating ass so much you have no idea.

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Strawberry Tequila Jell-O Shots

Let’s face it. This summer’s weather has majorly SUCKED. I took advantage of my day off and the 90 degree weather this past Sunday and decided to try my luck at this delicious fruit cocktail recipe. 

Being that I can’t stand getting too involved in the kitchen, my shared recipes are all extremely easy with minimal prep. So please - Try them and let me know how they turned out for you! 

AN ODE TO STRAWBERRY TEQUILA JELL-O SHOTS

BUY & PREP:

  • During our trip to Mexico last month, my friends and I were fortunate enough to receive tequila 101 in the desert after a camel ride through the beach. (Yes, I’m aware of exactly how cool that sounds.) Our guide told us that when purchasing tequila, it is extremely important to search for the 100% Agave seal or you’re basically drinking crap. Just a tip when buying the main ingredient for this delicious boozy dessert. 
  • No mushy strawberries! Make sure to buy the largest strawberries possible on the day or day before you plan on creating these little masterpieces. Wash and dry them as usual. 
  • Have clean and empty ice cube trays on hand.

1. Slice the top off the strawberries then scoop out their centers with a melon baller or a small spoon. Be careful not to scoop too close to the edges or bottom of the strawberries. 

2. Place the strawberries in ice cube trays so that they are able to stand upright.

3. Prepare the Jell-O mixture by following the directions on the box BUT upon reaching the cold water step, replace the cold water with tequila. Beware of the boiling tequila fumes.

4. With a soup spoon, turkey baster, small container, or whatever you feel more comfortable using, pour the Jell-O mixture inside of each strawberry. There will possibly be some leaking - don’t fret. 

5. Refrigerate the strawberries for a couple of hours or until firm. 

6. Remove the strawberries from the trays and dip the tops in sugar. You can also use lime wheels to garnish. I didn’t because I was just too excited to hurry up and eat them. 

…VOILÀ! Your boozy little treats are ready to devour. 

Enjoy!