#I should probably try actually toning him at some point too............not looking forward to that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks.

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson.

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you.

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up.

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to.

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do.

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process.

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you.

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back.

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside.

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #tlou hbo

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

How was <I like you> YN's & JK's first time together? Who iniated it? 👀

-> Masterlist

"Jesus christ-!" Jungkook curses under his breath, using a pillow to block his view of your naked body emerging from the bathroom.

"I mean, I'm only me but thanks for the comparison?" You giggle, trying to pull down the pillow- though he's got an iron grip on it. "Come on kookie, it's just a pair of tits!" You laugh, but he shakes his head, looking away as you successfully put the pillow down, sitting next to him on the bed, your knees digging into the blanket on the mattress.

"Its not... just any pair." He mumbles to himself, not daring to move his head.

"Are you a Virgin?" You ask, and he shakes his head. "Oooh, do you just not like sex-"

"No, that's not it!" He softly argues, unsure where his eyes should roam as he instead uses the blanket close by on the bed to cover you. "Its just- you'll laugh at me.." he almost whispers, attempting to get up- but you hold his wrist, keeping him with you with no strength needed.

"Jungkook." You say, bone chillingly serious. "I'll never laugh at you, okay? Not with any intention to hurt, at least." You make sure he knows. "I might laugh about.. stuff that you do, or when your hair is all chaotic after you took a nap, but that's never to hurt you." You say.

"No, it's fine-" he starts, already uncomfortable because you shouldn't have to reassure him. He's the man. He's supposed to take the lead and all that.

"No, it's not fine." You shake your head. "I don't know who might've done that shit to you, but I won't. And if something I do makes you all weird inside in a bad way, you gotta tell me. I won't hate you." You shake your head.

"I just.. don't know if you'll even like me. Like.. that." He offers, a bit unsure as he looks at his hands in his lap. "I get all sweaty n' gross.."

"So?" You shrug. "I sneezed while giving head once. It can't get worse than that." You reveal, and he has to force back a laugh unsuccessfully, immediately turning his head to apologize. "Dont, it's fucking funny in hindsight. You can laugh!" You giggle, running a hand through his hair. "I'll go wash my hair-" You start, but he instead leans forwards, captures your lips.

He's got to jump over his shadow at some point, he decides. And you're worth it- because he's safe with you, after all.

"No you won't." He tells you under his breath, moving his body and adjusting both of you so he's towering over you, blanket slowly pulled away by his own hand, revealing your bare skin to him for the first time. You're so pretty to him it hurts, and you smell sickeningly sweet like peaches and coconut, a new bodyspray probably- you love those with glitter in them, giving your skin an almost otherworldly shimmer.

And he can agree that it's beautiful- but right now, you're perfect like this, no matter how you look. It's more so the fact that you've chosen him that makes him feel so oddly proud.

"You're.. " he mumbles against your skin, lips running over the side of your neck. "...really pretty." He compliments, and you giggle excitedly.

You've gotten a lot of empty compliments before, things said just to keep you soft and compliant with anything said or done. But he's got no reason to compliment you. Jungkook doesn't have to tell you that you're pretty- so everytime he does it, it feels like he actually means it. You know he means it.

You think he's pretty too.

"Condoms are-" you want to tell him where you've put them in your pink bag near the bedside table- but he shakes his head.

"I'm taking my time." He explains, smiling at you.

"Oh my God, I'm secretly dating a sex God am I?" You dramatically joke at him, and he can't help but laugh.

"I'm not sure about that.." he shakes his head, before he leans back and pulls his oversized black shirt over his head- for the first time revealing his rather toned physique to your wide open eyes, and there's an unfamiliar sense of pride growing in his body at the sight of you flustered.

"-But I can certainly try and live up to the title."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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bun-z-bakery · 11 days

Text

A/N: sorry this took so long! But we are so back!

Behind His Mask (7)

Familiar voices are heard from afar, suddenly you're pulled into a whole new world, a world you're all too familiar with.

"You like this one don't you?"

You haven't heard that voice in such a long time, you never dreamt about him before especially after that day of the car accident. you don't understand why now? Why here?

"Little one?"

He called you again, your grandfather sat next to you, it was as if he was alive once again. This dream felt all too real, it made you sick...

You open your mouth to speak but your bother, Aiden beats you to it

"I think it still hurts them..."

Aiden gently takes your hand and helps you point to the picture of an orange dog your grandfather had drawn.

"See? This one is DogDay and this one is um..."

Your sudden sobbing cut him off, they both looked worried and wrapped you in a gentle yet warm hug, you could feel their skin and their clothes... you missed this, you missed them.

"Please... Please... "

You chant in your sobs as if it were a prayer that would take you back to this day.

You wept quietly before gentle shakes brought you back, you knew it was a dream but it felt so real, the pit in your stomach grew bigger, and the hunger only added to the terrible feeling.

"Angel! Angel, please wake up!"

DogDays voice echoes through your mind before you fully awake, instinctively you wrap your arms around him, seeking out any comfort available. He was able to find a room where you both could get some much-needed rest you felt eternally indebted to the dog for saving your life however you knew he probably would brush it off as repayment for saving him.

"I'm sorry... Just... S-stay still..."

You try to speak through your sobs luckily he understands what you are trying to say and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a secure hug.

"When the children had nightmares,"

He begins as he gently pets your head, attempting to give you all the comfort he's able to.

"They would speak about it or do activities to help ease the fear"

His voice was soft, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

"I'm sorry if it's too forward... but you can always share your burdens with me, Angel"

You sigh as you fall deeper into his embrace, your sobs have finally subsided but you still feel that dreaded feeling in your stomach.

"My grandfather used to work here..."

The air went cold and the silence was loud, it's almost like he knew where this was going

"When I was a kid, he told me all these amazing stories about this place..."

You finally loosen the bear hug you had the poor dog in and pet his ears.

"I was lied to, I was only a kid it's not like I would've understood anyway..."

You pause before you continue

"I learned about what happened here through some tapes... You used to be someone... right?"

You hold his face in your hands, he was supposed to be comforting you but you wanted to do the same for him.

"Rich..."

He spoke softly, you weren't expecting an actual response to your mindless ramble he took you by surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"My name is... or it used to be Rich... No one calls me that anymore..."

The sadness in his voice was clear as day it made you angry, only a monster would do something like this to innocent people.

"What should I call you then? Rich? DogDay? Both? A nickname perhaps?"

You suggest a bit too strongly, once you realize this you instantly tone it down and lay on his chest.

"Sorry, I just think you deserve to be called by something you like..."

A low rumble emits from his chest making you tense up in fear, it was from him chuckling at your kindness.

"Whatever my angel chooses to call me by I'll come running"

You giggle at his response, clearly he's in good spirits to be joking in a place like this.

"You said your grandfather worked here? What was his name?"

His question caught you off guard, but it made you perk up at the thought they were co-workers, the thought of hearing of his stories together as workers made you giddy.

"His name was Lance L/N! He was practically a genius with his newfound technology.

You brag happily, not only were you proud of his established name but proud you inherited his smarts too.

DogDay didn't seem too excited upon hearing the name

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"He used to be a friend of mine here..."

You smile at him and bounce in excitement

"Really?! What was he like?!"

You felt like a kid again, sitting down with your brother and listening to your grandfather's stories about the characters.

DogDay still didn't share your excitement

"His technology was used to aid the experiments..."

His answer made you confused but you still wanted to know and his hesitation made you fearful

"That man betrayed me... All of us... He turned me into...into this! I never knew the devil could be so charming..."

He covers his mouth after realizing what he said, you stare at him blankly. You finally know who the real monster is and it all starts making sense now.

"Angel I apologize I didn't mean to–"

A knock at the door cuts off DogDay and a familiar voice makes its reappearance

"Y/N are you in there?"

"Yeah come in!"

Poppy and Kissy enter the saferoom, and both of them look just as tired as you and DogDay. The mini smiling critters probably chased them leading them here.

"Oh! Hello DogDay!"

Poppy and Kissy wave at the giant mutilated dog on the floor.

"It's finally nice to meet you both"

They haven't met? Interesting.

"We're glad we found you! Look! Kissy found some food!"

The little doll exclaims happily but all you can do is smile and nod, right now food is the last thing on your mind.

"Um... I'm gonna take a walk..."

You say abruptly before grabbing your grab pack and making your way to the door.

"Angel please stay and eat! You need–"

"I'll be back!"

You walk out of the room and close the door behind you. You didn't want to be followed nor did you want to be looked for, you just wanted to process everything in peace.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

You walk around with no goal in mind, nothing matters in your moment of solitude. But you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched, the feeling of a thousand eyes watching from the shadows makes the hairs on your neck stand.

It's quiet, a bit too quiet. It was too good to be true, before you knew it a group of mini smiling critters made their way to you from a small hole in a wall

"Dammit!"

You switch out your flare hand and fire, of course, you manage to scorch a few before you attempt to run, they follow you and you have to think fast!

A room with a door slightly cracked open would be your saving grace, quickly you made your way into the room and locked the door.

It looked like some abandoned office, it was filthy, rubble everywhere and even some old blood stained the floor. You take the opportunity to look around for anything you're able to find, something must be useful in a hazardous room such as this.

A trunk catches your eye, however it's buried under some rubble. You're stubbornness gets the better of you and you use all your strength, moving the rubble and whatever else might get in your way from the top of the trunk. You catch your breath before you flip open the locks.

What was hidden inside the trunk wasn't what you were expecting, but it wasn't hard to understand why someone would go through the trouble of hiding your discovery.

You pull out everything you might need and head to the door, but something stops you in your tracks. For a split second, you could've sworn you saw a purple blur staring back at you.

I'm seeing things again...

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"I'M BACK!"

You exclaim as you make your grand entrance. The three of them seemed to have made a small bed out of blankets and whatever else they could find.

"Angel! You're ok– are those?"

"Yep! Your legs! And look I found a needle and some thread too!"

He didn't know what to say or do at that moment. You crouch down and gently pet him.

"Don't worry big guy! Everything will be ok"

You say in an attempt to comfort him, hauling his legs this far put a lot of strain on you but it was worth it for your new companion.

"I could help you sew them on! Toy anatomy works a bit differently"

Poppy states eagerly to assist you in your new quest.

You walk over to one of the blankets and gently place his lower half down before taking a seat yourself. DogDay makes his way over and rests his head on your lap.

You didn't want to show your fear, you couldn't especially at a time like this when all of them are so vulnerable. You suck up your fear and anxieties and tough it out.

"Are you ok bud?"

You ask him as you gently scratch his head and he melts into your touch.

"I should be asking you that, Angel are you ok?"

You can't tell them how you feel, and you're unsure if the others know. If they did would they hate you? Maybe kill you even?

DogDay didn't but there's no doubt in your mind there's a chance he may hate you now.

The past can't be changed after all.

"Let's not talk about that now... Let's focus on you"

Your voice breaks slightly as you fight to hold back tears. It's obvious he's worried about you. You place a comforting kiss on his head before you take the needle and thread that's lying nearby.

"DogDay this might hurt a bit, so tell us if you need a break, ok?"

Poppy explained before making her way to aid you in your sewing project.

"Ready big guy?"

You pet his ears in an attempt to ease his nerves. He sighs and nods

"Ready my Angel"

"Alright let's start!"

Poppy exclaims and you start sewing.

It took you a while to notice but whenever he wasn't in agonizing pain, DogDays eyes would watch the way your hands moved, sometimes he'd even stare at you.

Strange...

#dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #bun z writes #sunny days #sunnydays fic

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jobean12-blog · 2 years

Text

A ‘Big’ Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 783

Summary: You and Bucky have a big night of fun.

Author’s Note: Because why wouldn’t we say this if Bucky was our man. THERE IS NO LIE! Hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you darling! 🥰

Warnings: mostly fun fluff, some tension with a stupid guy at the bar, Bucky might have to kick some ass, suggestive themes, implied sexy times (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Gif NOT MINE: Credit for the first goes to @buckysbarnes and the second and third to @captaincentenarian thank you so much 💕

“This fucking guy has been staring at you since we got here,” Bucky grumbles.

You shift to turn around and look but Bucky leans forward and wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into him for a kiss.

“Don’t be too obvious doll face,” he murmurs against your lips with a smirk.

“Like that kiss wasn’t obvious,” you snort.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks, his eyebrows drawn in. “Can’t I kiss my girl?”

You roll your eyes playfully but lean in for another quick peck.

“He’s still looking,” Bucky grits out, his eyes hardening.

“Probably all the kissing,” you tease.

Bucky’s rests his hand on your thigh, his grip tight. “Well, he better find something else to do because I’m about to put my fist through his stupid face.”

You lift your drink to your lips, hoping to stop your laughter before you discreetly turn your head and try to find your stalker.

“Wow,” you mutter when the guy catches your eye and waves with a smile.

You hear the clench of Bucky’s metal fist, the plates of his arm shifting and whirring as he flexes.

“Baby,” you whisper when you turn back to Bucky. “Ignore him.”

“He’s getting up…I swear to fuck if he comes over here….”

Bucky’s voice is a low growl and his jaw is tight with the grind of his teeth. You can’t help the press of your thighs and the drag of your teeth over your bottom lip.

“Doll face,” he warns, his eyes settling back on you.

“What?” you demurely shrug. “Stop being so hot when you’re angry. I like it.”

Bucky doesn’t have time to react because the stranger sits himself next to you on your other side and says hello.

You turn to him, your surprise evident in your expression but you wave.

“How’s your night going beautiful?” the man asks.

“My boyfriend and I are having a great time. Thanks,” you answer, emphasizing the word boyfriend.

You give him a raise of your brows, waiting for him to get the hint.

“Uh huh,” the guy says dismissively. “What do you say you ditch him and come home with me.”

He leans into your space and you lean back, your tone incredulous when you reply with, “Nah. I’m going home with this guy right here. My boyfriend.”

You point over your shoulder at Bucky, the feel of his hard chest pressed against your back with every shallow breath he takes.

“Aw come on sweetheart,” the man croons. “He doesn’t look like any fun.”

You know Bucky is one second away from exploding and probably killing the guy so you don’t think much about the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Oh, he’s tons of fun actually. And you should see his dick. It’s HUGE!”

You separate your hands, holding them several inches apart to show how big, then changing the angle to imply how thick it is.

The stranger blinks several times before he scoffs and shakes his head. Bucky stands, his hand settling on your waist as he pulls you against him.

You give the guy a little twinkly wave of your fingers before taking Bucky’s hand.

“See ya,” you say before Bucky guides you in front of him.

As you’re walking out and not paying attention Bucky steps into the strangers face, his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed.

“If I ever see you near my girl again you’ll be sorry. Got it asshole.”

The man nods but there’s still a smile playing upon his lips. Bucky lurches forward, his metal fist inches from the guys face.

“Got it,” Bucky sneers.

This time the guy swallows hard and his smile falters. Bucky moves back and throws him a mocking smile before joining you by the door.

“Happy now?” you ask sweetly as you lean into him.

“No. I should have punched him,” Bucky grunts.

You pat his chest, your touch soothing. “He’s not worth it. And anyway, you’re the one taking me home.”

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the sides and the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

“Yea. Me and my HUGE dick!”

You both start laughing as Bucky wraps you in his arms and buries his face in your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin.

“I mean there is no lie,” you state when he pulls away, doing the hand gesture again to show how big.

“Mm,” he hums agreeably, sliding his hand around your waist and into the back pocket of your jeans.

He dips his head, his lips lightly brushing your ear when he whispers, “then let’s get you home so you can go for a ride.”

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-and-skittles @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @lookiamtrying @nano--raptor @goldylions @loki-laufeyson-1054 @seitmai @goldylions @randomfandompenguin @rebel-stardust @breakablebarnes @getwellsoontana @whippoorwillbarnes @whitewolfey @justile @peaches1958

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky #sebastian stan x reader

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tenaciousjalapeno · 4 months

Text

Testing the Cat Lady, Part 5

5/?

Pairing: LA Buggy the Clown x Reader

Summary: You've done a thorough job of getting on Buggy's nerves during the tour of the town, but he still wants to show you a good time. All goes well until dinner turns into a mess.

Warnings: language, mild violence, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2200

While in a clothing shop, you quickly realize just how important it was to Buggy that he maintain a good image to the townspeople. Right in the middle of the store, a silent argument raged between you two. Your face saying, “Get ready, captain. I’ll bankrupt you,” and his returning with, “I know where you sleep.” Sounds like a problem for future-you. Skimming the store, your eyes land on a beautiful suede coat. From years of training on your mother’s part, you had developed a good eye for expensive, well, everything. Clothes, accessories, home decor. The whole shebang. As soon as you lay eyes on it, you know that it’s going to be the priciest thing in the shop. Maybe even in town.

“Excuse me,” you say to the shopkeeper, pointing in the direction of the coat. “Could I try that coat on? The suede one.” The woman’s eyes light up as she hastily agrees and heads to bring the coat over for you. Flashing a shit-eating grin Buggy’s way, you swear you see his eye twitching. Returning with the coat in hand, the shopkeeper helps you slide into the jacket.

“Oh, what a lovely fit!” she exclaims. “It’s like it was made for you!” You turn in front of a floor length mirror, assessing how it hugs your body and moves with you. Whether she means it or is just looking to make a sale, you have to admit that she’s right. It looks fantastic, if you do say so yourself. After a few moments, you decide that you’ll take the coat, much to the shopkeeper’s delight.

“Hey, doll,” Buggy butts in, “isn’t it a little warm to be buying that? Wouldn’t want you to get sick from the heat.” Try as he might to sound genuinely concerned, you weren’t fooled. The clown was trying to get out of his earlier agreement. Had it not been for his comment about sausages, you might’ve actually considered giving in and forgoing the coat. But he made his bed, and now he has to lay in it. A deal’s a deal.

“Oh, darling,” you respond with a honeyed tone, throwing his earlier pet name for you back in his face. This time you’re sure of it; his eye is twitching. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll save it for chilly days. Besides, didn’t you just say that you’d treat me to anything?” Your fake boyfriend looks between you and the shopkeeper who’s now waiting at the counter. The choice has to be made: his reputation or his berries?

Finally, his face sets into a wide, forced grin as he leans forward to hover over you. He’s going for intimidation, making it clear that you’ll regret this some way or another. You can’t say whether or not he hit the mark, it definitely stirs something in you. “Of course. Nothing is too good for my sweetheart.” He straightens up and heads toward the counter, giving you a small shove on his way past. “I hate you,” he whispers.

“Suck my ass,” you whisper back.

Several minutes later, you hum happily as you lead Buggy out of the shop. Both of you held up your ends of the bargain, scoring you a new coat on his berry. “I should put you on bathroom duty next month.”

“Probably, but you won’t.” You twirl around to face him, chuckling. It’s a risky little game to play, telling him what he can or can’t, will or won’t do, but seeing as he’s been lenient with you so far, rolling the dice seems low stakes this time around. As unpredictable and sporadic as he is, more often than not, his threats towards you are empty.

“Oh, really? You think looking cute will get you special treatment?” He scowls as he trudges forward, scoping out nearby places that you might enjoy. Despite how deeply annoying he finds you right now, he still wants to show you a good time. Besides, the more he escorts you through the town, the more convincing it will be that you two are actually in a relationship. Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

“Maybe.” He rolls his eyes at your cheeky attitude. You’re right, but he’d sooner eat gravel than admit it. Finally, a pub and line of shops and entertainment comes into view. Perfect for keeping you interested enough to shut up, he hopes.

“Come on, shithead,” he says, putting his hand on your lower back and steering you toward a bookstore. The gentle manhandling sends a thrill up your spine that doesn’t stop until it’s wrapped around your brain, making you short circuit. After a few seconds, you snap back to earth and shake whatever that was from your head. What is with me today, you wonder, but quickly conclude that all this time out at sea is beginning to mess with your head.

Several hours and another 10 thousand berries later, you find yourself in the pub with Buggy and a few other crew members that you’d bumped into along the way. The food will take a while, but in the meantime, the crew takes no time downing several beers each. Except for you, that is.

“You look ridiculous,” Buggy states, eyeing your colorful, fruity drink. You’re on your second one already, your first being pink with a bendy straw, and this one being red and blue topped with a little umbrella. Almost reminds you of your captain.

“What,” you ask, defensively, “It tastes good. And there’s plenty of beer and whisky on the ship, so I’m gonna treat myself to something tasty while I have the chance.” He looks at you, unimpressed.

“I’m treating you, you little leech. And slow down on those. I already have to be your personal wallet; I don’t want to be a babysitter too.” You brush him off as you sip the last of your drink. There’s not even a hint of the taste of alcohol, so you don’t know what he’s making a fuss over.

Third drink ordered and halfway gone, he rolls his eyes at you once more. The food came at the same time as your drink, so he’s hoping to gods that the food sitting in your stomach will soak up some of the alcohol. Those hopes are crushed, however, when you get up to use the restroom and nearly fall on top of him. “See, this is exactly what I was talking about,” he whines, steadying you. “Just because it tastes good, doesn’t mean it won’t get you piss-drunk.”

You giggle at the frustrated man before you. “Aw, Cap’n, I’m just a bit tipsy is all.” The slurred words do nothing to convince him. In that moment, he decides that he’s cutting you off and never letting you drink again. “Good time” be damned because there was no way he was carrying an overgrown toddler back to the ship.

“Yeah, whatever, just go use the bathroom then we’ll head back and get you to bed.” He waves you off, and you turn toward the restroom. No qualms were had with that. After the long day out, you were ready to start winding down. The date outing had been a lot more fun than you’d originally anticipated. Being spoiled by your captain, or blackmailing him depending on who you asked, was nice and all, but what really made your day was simply getting to spend uninterrupted time with him for once. Despite how much of an ass he was, you had still come to consider him a friend. The fact that you’d only get to see him for maybe an hour a day if you were lucky never felt like enough. The domestic life you’d previously settled into was nice – peaceful, even – but something about Buggy made you feel alive. It took you back to your days as a traveler, which was probably why you had such an easy time adjusting to life aboard the Big Top.

Due to your inebriated state, every ounce of your brain power goes toward getting to the bathroom in a straight line without tripping over your own feet. All focus set on watching your step, you don’t notice a man walking in your direction. Your shoulders hit each other, causing the man to spill the drink he’d been carrying onto himself. You immediately start to apologize, but he cuts you off. “Watch where the fuck you’re going,” he yells, grabbing you by your collar. In an instant, his aggression sobers you and makes your body freeze in panic. “What, are you too stupid to talk?” Within seconds of hearing the man’s booming voice, Buggy’s detached arm flies over and smacks his hands off of you. Another few seconds later, the rest of the captain appears in front of you, acting as a shield from the angry patron. The man’s eyes go wide, trying to process what he just witnessed.

Buggy looms over the man. Barely able to suppress his rage, he growls in a low voice, “Don’t. Touch. My. Crew.” The aura emanating off of him is terrifying. Of all the times you’d seen him angry and violent, even the day that you’d first met him, nothing came close to his current state. Never before had you heard him speak with such abhorrence. Glancing over to your fellow crewmates, even they seemed alarmed. It wasn’t until now that you realized the three of you had the attention of the entire pub.

Stupidly, the man, not wanting to hurt his pride with so many eyes on him, straightens up and points his anger at your captain. “Mind your own business, asshole. Keep your big, ugly nose out of- UGH!” Buggy watches in stunned silence as the man hits the ground. He was about to put the man into an early grave only to have you beat him to the punch – literally. As soon as the man is down, you drop to your knees above him, pounding your fists clumsily against his face.

Between strikes, you shout out angrily at him, “Don’t! Talk! About! The captain! Like! That!” Fueled by fury, you probably could have kept going until his face was caved in. However, a cackling Buggy pulls you off of the man, holding you like a feisty kitten who’s pissed to be picked up. Trying to wriggle free, you now yell at your captain. “I’m not done yet! Let me go!”

“Nope, that’s enough, killer,” Buggy laughs, throwing you over his shoulder. He turns his attention to the bartender, who seems undisturbed by the kerfuffle, and sets enough berries to cover the tab and a hefty tip on the counter. “Sorry about the trouble.”

“Don’t be,” the bartender says nonchalantly, ignoring the groans of the man still laid on the floor. “That guy blew in a few days ago and has been causing problems ever since. Thanks, Captain.” Several more people thank Buggy as he heads out the door, waving his hand behind him. Fresh air fills your lungs and finally brings you back to your senses.

“You done?” Buggy asks. You’re still disgruntled, but your anger has simmered down a little. Taking only a few moments to mull it over, you hum a response, urging him to put you down. He lightly sets you back on your feet, looking down at you with an amused smile. “I knew you had some tricks up your sleeve, but I didn’t know you could fight.”

“Barely. He made me mad is all.” Buggy chuckles as he begins to make his way back to the ship, you following suit. Both of you walk in comfortable silence, him maintaining a soft smile all the while. Upon reaching the deck of the ship, he turns to you.

“Thanks, by the way. It’s nice to know my sweetheart has my back.” He wholeheartedly means it, but can’t get the words out without twisting it into some sort of joke. For half his life, he’d had to take care of himself. The times where he could count on someone else to stick their neck out for him were far and few between. Trying to express his gratitude any other way felt too vulnerable, especially considering how few times he’d had to do it in his adult life.

You roll your eyes at him. You want to quip back with something snarky, but something about his body language holds you back. Tension held in his shoulders and avoidance of direct eye contact all but scream that he’s uncomfortable uttering the words. A small smile falls upon your face. “Anytime, Captain,” you say. He relaxes at the response, but you don’t want to drag out the conversation and make him feel any more awkward. “I’m going to hang out on deck for a little while and enjoy the fresh air.”

He nods and heads towards the lower deck. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow, doll.” As he disappears, Mango strides past him, making his way over to you as you sit down and kick your feet up on a barrel. You greet him with some head scritches before sharing with him the highlights of your day, together enjoying the warm breeze and starlit sky.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #one piece #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x you

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cabinofimagines · 5 months

Note

OKAY hear me out Grover introduces the concept of "Satyr Claus," a nature-inspired version of Santa Claus hehe

A/N: I have been summoned -Danny

Words: 615

Warnings: Mentions of drunk!Chiron

Satyr Claus —(Platonic!Grover xGN!Reader)

"There you are!" Grover approaches you with a big smile. "Been looking for you..."

"What's up?" You take a break from training and sit near the dummies making some room for Grover to sit with you.

"Thalia said you were looking to create some new traditions," he sits and pulls his satchel forward. "I've got an idea..."

"Oh, yeah but it was just for the Grace siblings..." your voice dies down when you see Grover pull out a whole notebook and a pen. He really has prepared a whole list for you.

"Okay, so I've been thinking," he starts excitedly. "Some of the traditions that humans have right now surrounding Christmas are so dangerous to the environment, I mean, the wasted food, the extra use of electricity, paper—don't even get me started on pine trees!"

"I won't," you mutter, supporting your chin on one hand. "So what do you have in mind?"

"Behold!" He turns a page and shows you a very well-made sketch, probably drawn by Annabeth. "Satyr Claus!"

You take a look at it and reply matter-of-factly. "That's Krampus."

Grover frowns. "No, it's not. 'Cause Satyr Claus isn't a bad guy."

"Okay, but they definitely look like Krampus."

"No, they don't!" He grabs the notebook and points at different parts of the drawing. "The horns are smaller, there is no ugly cape in sight, no whip, and this guy smells like pine tree!"

"Well, Krampus could smell that way too, you don't know that," you tease him.

"Y/N," he scowls. "I'm trying to do something good here, raise awareness so people stop being so careless about the waste."

You feel a little guilty now, so you grab the notebook again and change your tone to one of real interest.

"But what is the appeal here? I mean, is he going to give out presents if we look after the earth, or candy?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead, that's why I came to you," he pouts.

You're flattered that he's seeing you as an expert, but you sigh. "Honestly I'm completely blank here. You should ask Klaus, bet he's got thousands of lore that people have long forgotten about him."

"For the last time, I'm not Santa!" The boy jumps out of the tree in front of you fuming.

"Oh, there you are!" You smile. "What were you doing there? Is that a secret portal that takes you to the North Pole?"

He shows you the object in his hand and scowls. "I was hanging mistletoe."

Grover squints to try and spot the plant. "You're not actually going to let it sit there for too long, right? Mistletoe is bad for the trees."

"I know that," Klaus huffs, dusting off his jeans. "And no, I'm taking it down after Christmas, since y'all decided to be party poopers this year..."

"Hey, don't get frisky, Santa," you tease him. "Are you still upset about the trivia night?"

Klaus's eyes cloud with resentment. "That was a mean use of my skills and you know it."

Grover is still focused on the mistletoe, staring at it with his mouth slightly open. "Klaus, I don't think anyone's gonna be able to see that, you placed it too high."

"Then you fix it, Satyr Claus," the boy glares at him, his ears turning red with annoyance. "I need a drink..."

"We ran out of eggnog the other night," you inform him as he walks past you. "After Chiron got overexcited, drank his whole cabinet of special drinks, and started to give us his own version of drunk history."

"Dang it!" Klaus kicks a few dry leaves that fell when he jumped off the tree. "I hate it here."

#danny's writing #the christmas special #holidays 2023 #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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agaypanic · 1 year

Note

Request for fem reader x Reese Wilkerson

Based on S4 E7 where Reese goes on a date with Allison (and technically Craig too) —> so instead it’s the reader and Reese going on the date with Crain tagging along but they all have a good time together :)

The Third Wheel (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Y/n and Reese have been looking forward to a concert for months. When they need a ride, their night takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: this was a little hard to do bc if I was Allison, i would've been so pissed if someone purposefully made me miss a concert i got (probably expensive) tickets for lol, but i tried my best :) Also there’s no pronouns for the reader but they’re referred to as Reese’s girlfriend. also F/A means favorite artist

***

“Reese, I can’t believe you! Why couldn’t you have waited until after the concert to get your license suspended?” You asked, anger radiating off of you. Reese, being Reese, had gotten his license suspended for a few months after some dumb stunt he pulled. You didn’t even want to know what he did; it probably would have made you angrier.

“Don’t blame me, Y/n!” He threw his hands up, as if he couldn’t believe that you would be upset with him right now. “My public defender wouldn’t even try to use the insanity defense.”

“Yeah, because that totally would’ve worked.” You were only half sarcastic. Aware of all the things your boyfriend did, you wouldn’t be surprised if an insanity defense would actually work for him in court. Reese didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcastic tone.

“I know, right?”

“Can’t you get one of your parents to take us? Mine are working that night.” You two had to find a solution fast. You saved up so much money for these concert tickets that nothing could stop you from using them.

“I’ll ask. Don’t worry, Baby, there’s no way we’re missing this concert.” He kissed you to seal the deal, and the anger you had felt towards his recklessness washed away.

***

“What do you mean, ‘Craig is our ride’?” You asked your boyfriend. It’s not that you had anything against Craig. He was just a character, to say the least.

“Babe, it’s the only way we can get to the concert. My dad’s car is in the shop, so he and Mom have to carpool to work.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to bite the hand that’s feeding you right now, but this was a less-than-ideal option.

“Okay, fine. It’s better than nothing.” Reese was about to speak, but you held up a hand and continued. “But if he starts acting weird, or weirder than normal, I should say, I’m getting out of the car. I don’t care if it’s still moving.”

“Deal.”

***

Two weeks later, you were waiting with Reese at his house to get picked up by Craig. You were wearing one of Reese’s jackets over your outfit to stay warm, and so Lois wouldn’t say anything about your appearance. You wanted to be a bit more dressed up, considering you and Reese were rarely able to go out to fun places by yourself.

When you two got into Craig’s car, you prepared yourself for the drive ahead. Craig seemed to be acting normal, or as normal as Craig could be. He made conversation with you and Reese as some nice music played in the background. It seemed like this would be a good night.

Until Craig passed the concert venue.

“Um, Craig, you just passed the concert.” You said, pointing out the window.

“Oh? I don’t think I did.” His tone seemed off, like he was hiding something.

“It said ‘F/A tonight!’ in the brightest lights I’ve ever seen.” You said, turning in your seat to watch as the venue shrunk to nothing as Craig kept driving away. “Craig, why aren’t you turning around?”

“Yeah, Craig, what the hell?” Reese said, staring him down from behind his seat. Craig shrugged, still driving.

“I’ve actually made some different plans for us.”

“But our plan was to go to the concert.” You said, starting to get angry.

“You can go to a concert any night, Y/n.”

“Not when this is the only night F/A is playing here for their tour!”

“Y/n, it’ll be okay.” Reese tried consoling you. The last thing he needed was for his girlfriend to kill their driver. You unbuckled your seatbelt and slid over to the middle seat to lean on Reese.

“I paid so much money for these tickets, Reese. I saved all that money for nothing.”

“Not nothing, Y/n,” Craig said, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “You can still make fun memories tonight! Now, I was thinking we’d start with a hayride. Then we have reservations at an Italian restaurant. After, we’ll finish the night off with a bonfire at the beach! How does that sound?”

You didn’t want to say anything; you were too upset. You’d probably say something rude, and this night would go even more south.

“We’re not getting out of this, are we?” You very quietly asked Reese. He sighed, which seemed to give you your answer. You put your head on his shoulder and looked at Craig in the mirror. “Fine.”

“Great!” Craig ignored that you were clearly unhappy with this.

***

By the time you got to the hayride, you had calmed down a bit. Reese had promised to pay you back for the expensive tickets and that he’d try to find a way to get you to see F/A in concert before their tour ended, even if it took an out-of-state trip. It warmed your heart that he knew how much this night meant to you.

The hayride was very pleasant, even though you still held some resentment for Craig. But at least he was paying for everything. It felt like a retribution in a way.

The dinner at the Italian restaurant was absolutely delicious. Having some food in you calmed you down some more.

Now, all three of you were enjoying a bonfire at the beach.

“I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m actually having a kind of good time.” You muttered as you roasted a marshmallow. Craig had a bright smile at the comment. “But I’m still pissed about the concert.” His smile dimmed slightly, but he still seemed to be having fun.

“Craig, we’re gonna miss our curfew,” Reese said as he looked at his watch. Your boyfriend was seemingly madder about the night than you were now.

“Oh, Reese, there’s no curfew on a night like this.” Reese groaned, leaning on you as he pulled his marshmallow off its stick. You two watched Craig as he pulled a ukulele from behind his chair, starting to sing some tunes.

“I’m sorry about tonight, Y/n,” Reese whispered to you before eating his marshmallow, shoving a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate in his mouth. You smiled at your boyfriend’s actions. Reese always felt making smores in your mouth was more efficient and less messy. When he was done eating his smore, he spoke again. “I wanted this to be the best date you’ve ever been on. We were gonna go to the concert, have fun with your friends, and then go to that restaurant you like to go to when we go out of town. And then we’d make it back with enough time for me to drop you off at home without worrying about missing curfew.”

You almost frowned. Reese had been upset both for you and because the night had gone in a way that neither of you wanted. But you still smiled because even though he could be a dumb brute, he could be so thoughtful. You kissed his forehead.

“It’s okay, Reese. I mean, it’s not okay that we couldn’t do what we wanted to do. But at least we had to endure this together.” He nodded in agreement, and you continued. “I’m glad I didn’t jump out of the car.”

“Me too. I would’ve been pissed if you made me have to do all this with Craig alone.”

“You know I can hear you guys, right?”

#reese wilkerson x reader #reese wilkerson #malcolm in the middle x reader #malcolm in the middle #agaypanic

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ezlebe · 2 years

Note

i would love to see your take on a soulmate au

Disclaimer: this is a prologue/part one to a fic that will be on Ao3 in like a week or so, and I do have like four soulmate AUs, but this is the oldest WIP; I've been writing it since Dec 21 according to the timestamp, so I have to get it done first. I'm forcing myself.

“Is that your mark?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tom says, flushing some and peeking down at the veritable smudge on his arm. It’s not exactly his best feature – other people have little charming stripes or an animal, lines from a poem, and he’s got… none of that. Hell, Shiv herself has that cute blade at her ankle.

Shiv stares for longer than is strictly comfortable.

“It’s not really any sort of shape,” Tom laughs, a little awkward, thinking she might be trying to figure it out. “It’s a Rorschach, I guess. Or, well, that’s what one doctor said.”

Shiv raises a brow and touches just lightly around it. “Like the ink blots?”

“Yeah, just like,” Tom says, then he turns his arm a little to look at the inside of his bicep, tapping at the mark in some urge to cover it up – to make her stop looking at it. “I guess whoever my soulmate is, they’re a little different depending on who’s looking at them.”

Shiv hums lowly, then finally looks up from it, as a sharp grin slips across her mouth. “And you, too, huh?”

“Sure, honey,” Tom laughs, then spreads his arms across the cushions of Shiv Roy’s big sofa. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t know you had a cousin,” Tom says, looking at Cousin Greg-not-Craig across the field. He waves with a curl of his fingers when Greg looks over, getting a wave back, and there’s something at the back of his head insisting he walk over there right now, but he manages to stay planted beside Shiv and sips his coffee. “He’s kind of… freakishly tall, honey.”

Shiv exhales a snort, tipping her head, and noticeably doesn’t look over in his direction.

“What’s his story?”

“…Why?” Shiv says, markedly stiff and chewing at the inside of her cheek.

“He’s your cousin?” Tom suggests, then smiles and nudges a bit sideways in an attempt to gentle rib, not actually making contact with his elbow, still clutched around the watch box, but keeping the sentiment of it. “I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“He doesn’t matter,” Shiv says, taking a drink of her coffee. The response isn’t exactly a shock, since she’d said the same about Kendall and Roman, but Tom had thought they were past that point with her family. “He’s the black lamb of the black sheep of the family. He’s probably here for a job.”

“Oh,” Tom intones, finding his interest inexplicably piqued, as he looks over again in time to watch Greg fumble a test throw. He feels a smile briefly flickering across his face, before he can control it, and looks back to Shiv with a raised brow. “What’s his degree in?”

“I don’t think he has one,” Shiv says, peeking in the same direction of Greg, then shaking her head in a pair of jerks. “You should really just forget him, Tom.”

“There’s not enough people here to forget him,” Tom says, pretending to count all the heads with his coffee cup, then pausing on Greg with a tip of it forward and a shuffling step. “I’m going to introduce myself better.”

Shiv exhales a harsh, irked breath. “Tom.”

Tom looks back with a start, something tightening at the base of his throat at her unhappy tone. “Shiv?”

Shiv is quiet for a few tense seconds, then lifts her coffee to down the rest in one surely scalding gulp. “I think… my dad wanted to talk to me – you should give him that. If you have to talk to Greg, do it after the game.”

“Oh, alright,” Tom says, falling back on his heel and making to follow Shiv, trying not to look nervous when she leads him straight to her father.

~10~

“What do you think would happen if you –” Shiv clears her throat, tucking a stray lock of her hair over her ear. “Ever met your soulmate?”

“Huh?” Tom looks up, thinking he must have heard wrong, as he pockets his phone and decides just to concentrate on the day – his first day onboarding at Brightstar Adventure, a softball – rather than any that might come after it.

“Your soulmate?” Shiv repeats, walking a little quick through the lobby, as they make their way to the scan queue to get up the building. “What would you do? If you met – ” She hesitates, oddly, eyes darting to the side. “Her?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Tom answers, holding out his badge when it’s his turn at the stile. “I can’t imagine loving anyone more than you. I guess they’d be out of luck.”

“Tom!” A voice calls from behind him, vaguely familiar, and he turns around to see Greg at the guest entrance. He’s wearing that awful coat again, but there’s a peek of a suit under the zipper, so at least he’s halfway to respectable.

“Hey!” Tom waves back, then gestures toward the elevators, watching Greg flail, and almost laughs as he turns back to Shiv. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious, I guess,” Shiv says, pressing a bit hard on the up arrow for the elevator. She glances back out toward the lobby, then up at the descending numbers, lifting a shoulder in a tight shrug. “I read an article.”

Tom hums a high pitch, legitimately surprised, even a bit shocked; he thought Shiv couldn’t care less about that sort of thing. “Oh, was it very interesting?”

“Uh,” Shiv intones, making a sideways sort of smile. “Sort of? I just… It seems so fake, you know, like shit just for movies. But people do meet.”

“Yeah,” Tom says, as he nods, stepping into the elevator behind her at the ding. “My aunt and uncle are soulmates.”

“Are they?” Shiv says, plainly surprised, peeking up at him through her pale lashes with a narrow look.

The reaction isn’t entirely unwarranted – hardly anyone meets a soulmate, unless they’ve uploaded to a match site, and Tom’s aunt and uncle are too old for that’s sort of thing. Tom debated the idea of it himself, once or twice or many times in low moments, but in the end he found them too terribly unromantic and not worth the background check. He’s met Shiv, anyway – they just work and he’s happier with her than he could be with anyone else.

“Their marks are Canis Major,” Tom says, then laughs, thinking about the last time he saw them, only to feel his mood dip a bit when he realizes it’s been years since he even last checked up. “Kind of a downer, though – they’re cosmically perfect for each other, but my aunt’s left my uncle about three times, because he won’t stop cheating on her with ol’ Mary Jane.”

“Why does she keep going back?”

Tom tilts his head with a pointed raise his brow. “Uh, well, she loves him, honey. And most of what he does when he’s high isn’t all that bad – except burning down a gazebo.”

Shiv is quiet a beat, then huffs, a smile glancing across her mouth. “Ah. That Mary Jane.”

~9~

“You were out with Greg?” Shiv asks, after Greg has bundled out of the apartment with a warm, dryer-fresh blazer in his hands. She’s holding on to her elbows, pacing, and it’s nice for her to ask after his night, despite being clearly more distracted with Kendall. “All night?”

“Yeah,” Tom says, clearing off the table with a glance backward, then hastily sneaking a last lick of peanut butter. “I had the reservations already and he deserves something, you know. After the thing.”

“Did you – ?” Shiv pauses, then makes a noise similar to the one she made finding out Kendall sunk his ship. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, actually,” Tom says, looking up and feeling a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “I made him eat ortolan.”

“Oh jeez,” Shiv says, then laughs, but it sounds oddly forced.

“Yeah, you should’ve heard him,” Tom says, feeling his smirk spread to a full smile, a fond pressure building behind his sternum. It’s been a while since he really clicked with a friend. “Um, Tom, uh – do I like have to? He’s so susceptible to peer pressure, honey. He’s like an extra in a DARE campaign.”

Shiv stares for a pair of beats, then raises her brows with an unreadable look across her face. “So I guess you’re not going to fire him?”

“No, no,” Tom says, halfway rushing the words, a little unsure where she’s gotten that from – he hasn’t suggested it. “He’s great. I told you, he’s my guy – my R2. Or, well. Tarkin? Unless, I’m the emperor, then he’s Vader… but your father is probably the Emperor. I think I called Ken Vader? Although, I guess… now he’s Luke?”

“Whatever.” Shiv scoffs under her breath, expression souring while a pinch rapidly forms at the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure we’re still talking about Cousin Greg, though?”

Tom feels off balance at the sudden scorn on her face and the honest insult in her tone. “…Is he not great?”

Shiv rolls her eyes, “No, Tom. He’s not. Like, come on, he – He can… barely talk.”

Tom feels his own expression gradually drop to a frown, strangely feeling sharply offended. “He can talk just fine, Shiv. He just gets nervous.”

~8~

Tom squeezes his eyes shut, then winds his hands into fists and drops them to his knees. He has to get it together – he can’t… It’s his wedding day.

“Good run, honey?” Shiv asks, slipping into the room with her hair a mess of pins. She stares at Tom for a beat, then her voice drops, “Or not?”

“I’m not supposed to see you,” Tom says, trying to keep his voice light and managing to give her a smile.

“Oh, I’m not in a dress, yet,” Shiv says, dismissive, reaching into the closet and sweeping hangers back and forth, clearly unable to find something inside it. “Seriously, though – who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“I got in a… bit of a tiff with Greg,” Tom admits, taking a deep breath, then reluctantly starting to pull at the sleeves of his workout jacket. He’s a little glad Shiv is here, even if he doesn’t want to really look at her – it makes him feel a little more real, like what he did wasn’t just an overreaction; like what he did was justified.

Shiv glances over her shoulder, hands going still inside the closet. “Oh?”

“He tried to tell me something,” Tom says, throwing the jacket onto the bed next to him with a hard shake of his head. “I didn’t want to hear it. You know?”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv says, suddenly beaming, in a way that he almost isn’t sure he’s ever seen; it’s beautiful, if a little off-putting so sudden, and he can’t help but smile back when she approaches him to actually grab at his shoulders. He can’t remember the last time she got so handsy. “You shouldn’t be thinking about anyone but me today, anyway.”

Tom laughs, tightly, then nods with a short drop of his head. “Sure.”

“Just don’t think about it,” Shiv says, letting go after another squeeze, then throwing her hands up and going back to the closet. “Apologize after the ceremony, if you have to.” She scoffs, “Or don’t, maybe. I don’t even know why you put up with his crap.”

Tom furrows his brow, as he looks up to watch her pull a little box from the closet. “Why do you hate him so much, anyway?”

“I don’t hate him,” Shiv says, not particularly convincing in her tight voice, opening the box to reveal a set of earrings from within it. “He’d have to matter for that, Tom. I just don’t think he’s worth anyone’s time.”

~7~

“She knows who your soulmate is,” Nate says, voice tight and vindictive, as he pours his wine back in the bottle. “So this? Isn’t going to last. You shouldn’t expect it to last.”

“Wh-What?” Tom sputters, watching Nate fumbling the bottle, almost snatching it back out of his snickering fuckhead hands. “Why would you even say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Nate says, looking up at Tom and setting his empty glass on a table with a heavy thunk. “She knows who it is.”

“No, she – ” Tom rolls his eyes, affecting a harsher sneer. “Sure. Who, then, BJ Ballsack?”

Nate has the gall to laugh, clearly aware he’s gotten through to Tom. “I don’t know, man. She didn’t tell me. But it sounds to me like she’s known a long time. The whole time.”

Tom shakes his head. “She wouldn’t –”

“She did let slip it was a guy,” Nate adds, wetting his lips with a pointed raise of his brows, a not-so slick glance up and down Tom from his oxfords to his open collar.

Tom feels his words die and swallows hard.

Nate barks a mean laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

~6~

“Wait, what the hell is that?” Shiv asks, glancing over her shoulder with a wide turn of her head down the hall, where a simple man is making some fool of himself shoving a desk into different corners of a very small space with the glee of a child on Christmas morning. “Why is Greg getting a real office?”

“Oh, just a – a reward as part of some restructuring, honey,” Tom says, scratching just under his tie while refusing to glance in the same direction. “He’s figured out a way to lay off a lot of dead weight. Did you know ATN isn’t completely digital?”

Shiv is quiet for a few beats, rolling her lips together. “Sure. And what does – ? Cousin Greg figured a way out of that?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Tom says, giving in and looking over his shoulder, incidentally catching Greg when he pokes out of his office with an overly eager grin and a… slinky? He shakes his head hard, throwing out a dismissive wave, as he turns Shiv in the other direction. “So you know… new office, new title, make him feel a little special, so he doesn’t jump ship.”

“You don’t need to make him feel anything, honey,” Shiv says,reaching up and oddly clutching at Tom’s upper arm, then all but tugs him into the door of his own office. “He’s got nowhere else – if he jumped ship, he’d drown.”

“He could be headhunted,” Tom says, swallowing hard while glancing down at her grip across his arm, too purposefully digging into the patched soulmark under his shirt. He looks around, wondering who she might’ve seen – not that he cares about, or believes, what Nate Sofrelli said in some obvious moment of jealousy, but… it sticks in his craw a bit, the way she’s been asking around and showing up on the floor since he’s started at ATN. It’s great to see her, but it almost feels like she’s waiting to catch him at something here. “Lucky we didn’t bring him to the Pierce country asylum, huh? He would’ve integrated with those poindexters in a half second.”

“You know…” Shiv releases her grip with a bland smirk. “Dad once spread a pretty nasty rumor that Nan was Marianne’s real mom.”

Tom barks out a laugh, trying to imagine how that might even work. “Really? That is funny.”

~5~

Shiv’s eyes linger over the railing, with a crooked edge growing at the corner of her mouth. “But Nia Bayton, huh? I never would’ve took her for your type.”

“I – I really wasn’t going to close the deal, honey,” Tom says, a little wary that she might be trying to find some similarity in a woman that he was mostly just schmoozing to pass time, or… worse, wondering why he wasn’t chatting up someone leaning more masculine. What he’s really been doing, though, is just waiting while Greg wanders around doing Greg things, like eavesdropping, typically, before settling down into a booth to hear the resulting dispatch. “Light flirting.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv says, as the crook switches to the opposite side of her mouth, then her eyes focus directly at Tom while a brow goes up her forehead. “I heard you came here with Greg, anyway?”

Tom blinks and stares for a beat, then glances down the floor to see if Greg might be down there, but he’s… not, so it seems, and he’s difficult to hide. “I did, but I think he went to get a drink? You don’t need to talk – ?”

“No,” Shiv interrupts, a bit forcefully and smiling through flat lips. “Just wondering… You know, you don’t have to hang out with him outside work. If he’s dragging you down.”

“Dragging? He doesn’t have the stomach for that kind of direct action,” Tom says, laughing a bit too loud, maybe, and thinking of Greg’s recent foray into blackmail. He probably should feel less eager to share his company, but… it’s just Greg. “Roman’s around somewhere, you know; I’d be more concerned with him throwing off the groove.”

“Sure, okay, but maybe what I’m really saying – ” Shiv smirks and leans into his side with a playful jab of her elbow against his side. “Is I’m here, right, so you don’t need to worry about anyone else tonight. Huh?”

Tom offers a laugh, then a nod, feeling the night slip through his fingers. He had been almost looking forward to hanging out with Greg later tonight; the actual day was a bit shitty, but it had felt like they’d been in sync, too, bracing each other against the hordes of Arc’teryx and Berghaus.

He peeks sidelong and incidentally catches the man himself across from them on the other platform, only a few feet from Nia’s table. He watches as Greg glances at Shiv, then winces, somewhat theatrically, and Tom ultimately bobs his own chin to the side in a subtle dismissal slash goodbye.

Greg offers a drop of his head, answering with a wan smile and a sendoff in the lift of his hand.

“Tom.”

“Yeah, honey?” Tom looks back to Shiv with a smile, but it fades when he sees a brief flicker of upset. “You okay?”

Shiv presses her lips flat, then tilts her head with an affected beat of confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

~4~

Tom stares out across the water; glittering and glimmering and beautiful on the surface, cold and deep and dangerous just underneath. He listens to Shiv turn a page on her book, smack her lips, and is unsure if she’s actually reading or just pretending to, but she had also dragged him out here on a nice little jaunt after volunteering him for prison, so what does he know. She maybe could just go back to a book after he tells her that he’s feeling pretty damned awful about their relationship. She even could be, probably is, hiding his soulmate from him, too, which might be some kind of messed up romantic, if she even cares about him that much; he really… He just can’t tell, anymore. The whole five year plan has gone to shit.

“Have you really never even thought about it?” Shiv asks, her voice tight, and a wrenching, evident stuffiness to her tone. “Not even with…” Another page turns, so pretending to, turns out. “I don’t know, Tom, maybe just someone at work?”

Tom feels his jaw clench until he could swear he hears a creak, squeezing his eyes shut against the glaring sun. Okay, fuck. “What? Who – who are you trying to… I don’t even know, foist upon me now?” He asks, turning to look, as he flicks his hand back and forth in a brief, tired gesture. “Or is it some other – no, Shiv. Did you really not… listen at all?”

Shiv shakes her head, palm against her forehead while she scratches further into her scalp. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then who?” Tom asks, voice pitching and wondering if she knows what he’s asking her; does she know that he knows, too? “Who do you mean?”

Shiv drops her hand down her shoulder, until it’s clutching at the back of her ankle curled up to her chest. “No one, Tom.”

Tom digs hard into the sand under his fingers, annoyed at an intrusive thought that she might mean Greg, somehow, as the only other person that Tom ever sees to entertain in any given free time. He’d even sulked yesterday evening away on weak mimosas beside Greg, despite their lingering Senate tension, who gambled on the life of his Nintendo and his tiny pixel farm from the hot tub. He also got mild heat stroke and swooned like a princess, so… maybe, it’s better that Tom was there to rescue all three of them.

Fate, and everything cliché, hah; too bad Greg always, always wears a patch, like a married man.

~3~

Shiv peeks into Tom’s office after a brief glance backward, leaning into the jamb. “Thanks again for handling that minion wrangling,” she says, a smile flashing, in a way that could only really be described as polite, across her mouth. “I guess Dad tried some talk earlier that just ended in Greg pulling a Greg with him.”

Tom rolls his lips against each other for a brief few seconds, then nods with a drop of his head. “He did imply that when I was down there, yes.”

“I knew you could do it,” Shiv says, brows raising sharply up in some facial version of a double thumbs-up. “You and him, you… you know. Speak the same language or whatever.”

Tom idly moves his mouse across the browser on-screen, as he swallows hard; he wonders if that makes him more or less part of the family. “Right. If you say so.”

“You didn’t promise him anything, right?” Shiv asks, voice dropping, as she shoulders her way a little further in the door, though she still doesn’t actually enter it. “It’s fine if you did, honey, but I kind of need to know what it was.”

Tom looks up and… realizes he didn’t, actually, he didn’t offer Greg a thing, which makes it even worse. It was purely pity. “No. Nope, your private jets are safe. We just had a talk about… where we were going, you could say.”

Shiv goes immediately, oddly cool at that, mouth pinching as she lifts her chin. “What do you mean – as in, together?”

Tom turns his hands across the desk with a croaking laugh, gesturing at the binders, the business cards, and the general disgusting miasma of his current existence. He thinks nonsensically about the mark on his arm and wonders despairingly if his soulmate on the floor, or upstairs, or whoever he is, also calls him terminal. “Me. Prison, Shiv.”

“Oh.” Shiv clicks her tongue, canting backward on a foot. She seems to think for a beat, then her eyebrows go straight up, refocusing on Tom with a tight smile. “No, honey. That’ll work out.”

~2~

Tom squints down at the city while riding out a throb between his temples, as the fuzzier details of last night filter through in achy bits and pieces. “Do I remember your brothers – all your brothers – getting into it a bit last night?”

“That was just – just typical Rome. No biggie.” Shiv says, flipping her hair across her shoulder. She briefly peeks up while peeling a yogurt, fingers fiddling with a spoon. “…How about you? Saw you slip into Kendall’s fucked up version of a – a tunnel of love with Greg. What was that about?”

“Yeah, hah. He… dragged me in there to brag that he’s got himself a real live woman to agree to date,” Tom says, uneasily remembering the… compliment tunnel, whatever the fuck Kendall thought that was except a scream for help, in woozy swoops of blue and green. He recalls most of all his head feeling thirty feet off his shoulders, unmoored and unreal, except when Greg’s big hands would intermittently tug him back to the floor. “…With a ponytail, I think. She works for Kendall.”

Shiv doesn’t respond for a few beats. “Oh,” she says, in a tonal hum markedly punched out around her spoon. “Huh. Good for him.”

Tom furrows his brow at the window, then briefly glances over his shoulder just to make sure it’s Shiv sitting behind him. “…You think so?”

“Yeah, Tom,” Shiv says, digging at the yogurt with a harsh scrape of the spoon against the glass cup. “He needs to talk to people outside you.”

“Sure, but,” Tom says, looking back out across the balcony with a few blinks, ignoring the twisty, queasy feeling in his gut. “He does, though, honey?”

“…And Kendall, I guess,” Shiv says, as the yogurt lands down onto the table with a series of clinks of spoon and cup. “Hey, maybe now you should try to get some breathing room without the whole legal fuckshow hanging over your head.”

Tom drops his eyes to the brazier that he failed to destroy all the papers in that night. He swallows hard, then glances again over his shoulder. “You think that’s a good direction?”

“Yeah,” Shiv says, shrugging with a smirk and a light furrow of her brow. “Why not?”

~1~

“Hey, yours is a little arrow? That’s cute,” Roman says, angled into the back of the lounge sofa. “I’ve got a cat nose or something.”

“I’ve seen, Roman,” Gerri hums, which is disturbing news on all fronts, since Roman’s is notoriously in a particularly private area.

“Not juicy enough?” Roman whines, exhaling a sing-songy breath. “Oh, hey, guess who has one of those ink stains for crazy people?”

Tom freezes in the archway, not all at once, but more a cold washing over him slow and painful. He glances across the hedges to Shiv badly hiding a sneer at her mother, sourness settling at the back of his throat.

“Cousin Greg,” Roman says, stage-whispering now with a lean over in front of Gerri, blocking her view of her table. “On his arm. You know how he always keeps it covered, even though he’s not married? It’s ‘cause it’s a total eyesore.”

Tom finds himself gawking in askance, bodily slanting into the arch, and feels something like horror, but more like epiphany, bait his breath. He glances toward the other side of the gardens, where Greg is awkwardly nodding at the nameless Contessa. No… No, what? That can’t be –

“Then how do you know?” Gerri asks, snide and unworried, peeking over her shoulder to settle a dubious look on Roman.

“When we were kids, we sort of almost drowned him,” Roman says, wry, but with a badly hidden note of what might actually be guilt at the back end of his trailing laugh. “Connor heimliched him.”

Gerri tuts lowly, annoyingly unworriedby this confession of near murder. “Roman.”

“We were like eleven!” Roman says, shaking his hands out in half-hearted defense. “Shiv was who saw it, first, after Connor pulled him out. Told him he’d never find his soulmate because it was just a big ugly mess like him.”

“Hardly anyone does, to be fair,” Gerri says, humming, then tilts her head to show Roman something on her screen that makes him shrug. “Though I’m sure that’s hard to understand for a child.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Roman says, leaning into the arm to perch while swiping at the screen. “He almost died, then Shiv told him he was unloveable, so… yeah. Shitty day for Greg the Egg.”

~0~

“Why?” Tom repeats, exhaling a weak, creaking laugh and spreading his hands at his sides. “Why, you ask? Because you’ve spent the last four years of my life fucking jerking me around, Shiv.”

“Years?” Shiv repeats, incredulous, and it’s almost more painful that it seems like the timeline of the accusation is more she has an issue with, not the act.

“Cousin Greg has an ink stain,” Tom mocks, pitching his voice up high to match Roman’s nasal.

Shiv’s jaw drops slightly while her eyes go wide, markedly darting toward Tom’s arm, then back to his face with a lift of her chin. She looks like she might say something, for a beat, then presses her lips in a blanched line.

“Yeah,” Tom says, halfway choking, furrowing his brow tight over his eyes and refusing to let his burning eyes go further than discomfort. “Guess who has a big mouth.”

“So? This is it?” Shiv demands, arms wrapping tight at her middle and offering a jerking nod to the space between them. “My whole life crumbles in a fucking hour?”

“An hour, Shiv, you –? You know, I…” Tom says, weakly, feeling something awful tighten and shatter behind his ribs at how easily she is going to let this happen between them; he thinks about the lawyer he called months ago for a fucking timeline, and wonders if she’d be so shocked by it. “I could’ve lived with it, if you actually loved me, or never mentioned you don’t love me, or maybe even if you just… stuck to our original plan? But… what was it – just a big power trip, stringing me along an-and watching me ruin what I might have had with my soulmate?”

Shiv offers a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it instant of guilt through her pinched expression. “No, Tom – ”

“I hit him when he told me you were cheating, you know,” Tom interrupts, wetting his lips and forcing himself to look her in the eye, as he continues, though he doesn’t expect much more visible sympathy, or really any at all. “I had him incriminate himself for your father’s company; I threw him to the fucking government wolves; I – I made a fool of myself to him a number of times at your behest, quite recently. I sometimes think he hates me, Siobhan. I can tell when he looks at me sometimes that he wants me anywhere else on the planet.”

Shiv rolls her lips together, reaching up and rubbing at her brow with a harsh, shaky inhale.

“But I… I do love him. Almost since I met him,” Tom laughs, wetly, looking down at his hands and catching on the glitter of a largely meaningless symbol. “What is it about him, you know? What was it – I couldn’t fucking figure it out.

“And not an hour ago, I had to bribe him to stay with me on this,” he says, yanking the ring off, swallowing hard, then slamming it out onto the table between them. “With Waystar. Because otherwise, he would leave me, after everything that’s happened between us. Everything that wouldn’t have happened, if you had just… told me who he was. He was all but there when I fucking proposed to you, Shiv!”

“Why’d you do it, then?” Shiv asks, taking a horrible, loud sniff and attempting to disguise it with turn of her nose. “Propose to me; stay with me; try to have some kid, if you –”

“Because I got attracted to other people, too,” Tom says, throwing his hands out while shaking his head in a rapid movement. “But we’re not the same, Shiv! I hate what happened to our relationship – that I wonder if we… Were we ever even on the same wavelength? Because I thought we were, for a long while there, and I know you know that – everything we talked about… or did you just think it was alright because you weren’t my soulmate?”

Shiv takes a sharp breath, glancing away from Tom in a rapid blink. “Does he know?” She asks, tightly not answering him. “Did you tell him?”

“No,” Tom says, aching, looking down at the ring, then away toward the shadowed window. “You can, if you want.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think he’d even believe it.”

Shiv is quiet a few beats too long, then tightens the arms she has around her middle. “It’s not my business.”

“It used to mean a lot to me,” Tom says, voice hoarse and chest so tight that it feels like his heart must be bursting against ribs. He looks at Shiv, wrapped up around in herself, and he looks down at the ring, thinking about when he wouldn’t hesitate to reach for her, but… “Since I didn’t get it until later? I know that’s bullshit.” He drags his teeth hard across his lower lip. “Now I just get to wait until Kendall offers him a fucking Maserati and he hangs me.”

#tomgreg #the prequel part of the soulmate AU #or i guess a prologue #words hard

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adelrambles · 1 year

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Ok SO. Let's talk Fast Forward!Bishop, because I have a lot of thoughts and conflicting feelings on the matter. Initially, I found FF!Bishop (or President Bishop, that might be easier,) a frustrating turn for his character-- and while indeed I do feel the execution in the actual show is lacking, upon review I think there are a lot of ideas at work here that are extremely compelling.

First and foremost, the concept of Bishop being a "good guy" at all inevitably hands us some very interesting ideas to chew on. After all, part of what makes Bishop originally so compelling is the fact that his motivations should align morally-good, but he is a monster in pursuit of them, despite this. So, then, President Bishop presents us with the idea that these motivations may eventually turn him morally-good. And how that might happen is super interesting to consider, too!

Looking at the development broadly-- and this is a trait that is apparent even before FF, in my opinion, but this change only cements it-- he prioritizes his goal of protecting earth above EVERYTHING. Even himself. He will do anything to achieve it. So, it follows, if the job requires him to change who he is as a person, he will do so. Especially if the job turns into becoming a public figure, a politician. What really sells it for me is that present-time Bishop is a lot more emotional than he may seem. He has fun with his fights, he gets angry at his failures, he blusters and threatens and he is fueled by a centuries-old fear. But President Bishop barely emotes; he is measured and polite and he is often wearing a blank expression. This suggests that he is far more in control of himself, which would be a necessity if he's trying to project a personality that is a fabrication.

(On that note, it's also an interesting thought as to what he might think of 2105's pacifism. From what we see in the wrestling episode, even staged fights have to be extremely toned down for modern sensibilities. Such excessive pacifism on earth, one might consider, was essentially Bishop's goal, but does it ever bother him? We know Bishop loves combat, he loves violence, he loves winning and inflicting pain. He's also like, a veteran, comes from times where violence was considered a necessity and then watched it become increasingly taboo. What must he feel, knowing the world he built would turn on him if he ever indulged in any violent whims?)

The broad idea is that Bishop will chameleon himself into whatever he needs to be in order to keep earth safe. This becomes further likely when you consider just how old this guy is! By the time FF rolls around he is over 330 years old, grew up in the late 1700s. In order to be so involved with the world, he'd have to be constantly adapting to changing times. Given how he seems to be doing just fine with that in both present and future, there's already a precedence for him to be able to adapt himself to fit his surroundings.

Another point I find extremely interesting here is that President Bishop lets us try and figure out what about present-day Bishop is actually genuinely him, by virtue of comparing and contrasting. Like discussed above, President Bishop is very measured and inexpressive. So, then, we can probably assume his sadistic nature and anger at failure are very much real.

The flip side to that is that we can apply some of Agent Bishop's methodolgy to President Bishop's government. We've seen how he runs things when he's not concerned with concealing the darker parts nor keeping up the image of a benevolent ruler. This is purely headcanon, but I don't believe all of that would just go away with a change of heart. If Bishop's goal requires he be president of Earth, he will undoubtedly have plans to ensure it stays that way no matter what. He may have been elected genuinely, but if ever he isn't, he will make sure it looks like he was.

No matter what, Bishop's character is that of a bad person working towards a good goal. President Bishop is still that, but in a different flavor. He's softened up around the edges, but he's also more fake than he's ever been. He will do anything to keep earth safe, and that hasn't changed.

Anyway, I think for all the SUPER interesting ideas at play, Fast Forward does not really capitalize on them. For example, Bishop should by all means be an unbeatable opponent in combat, but he is not really shown that way. I also think the absolute drama of Bishop trusting the turtles but them being afraid of him is sooooo interesting, and the fact that this conflict was brushed over so easily is MASSIVE missed potential.

I will probably have more thoughts to add onto this post later, but it's been in my drafts for a few weeks now so here take it have fun. I've been thinking about Fast Forward a lot lately so I will definitely have more to say

#Agent Bishop #TMNT #tmnt 2003 #help girl I keep almost moving to a new fixation and then this bastard drags me right back to tmnt #I wish my art account would stop being shadowbanned so I could post more art of him :/#President Bishop my beloved #this isn't even going into how weird he would express sentiments like friendship #he is such a detached person. I think he's capable of caring but it works differently for him #Like even when he genuinely does care everything always has some layer of transactional with him

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witchybiitchy · 2 years

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c’est ça l’amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 5

After a botched pitstop that took over 10 seconds and an unfortunate involvement in Bottas’ DNF that gave her a 5 second time penalty, 16th place in Monaco felt like salt in the wound for Sydney. Her only consolation was that she still managed to beat Haas, the bare minimum for any team. Her disappointment at the events of the day could be seen in her body language as she got out of the car, head hanging low within her helmet. She wasn’t one of those drivers to kick their car or walk coldly past the other drivers, because that would give her far too much attention. Instead, she would perk up as she approached Pierre, give him a hug and say congrats on 6th place, then plaster a humble smile on her face and give nothing answers to a bunch of interviewers who didn’t really care about her.

“You did your best." Pierre said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, their hug brief but comforting.

"My best is still shitty. You did well though, you should be proud .” Sydney took off her helmet and balaclava as she said this, plaits spilling out behind her. Vaguely she could hear a man over a microphone announcing the podium, and despite her sorry state, her heart still jumped when she heard Lando’s name announced. They hadn’t spoken much since their friendship was formed 4 days earlier, and yet every time their eyes met across a room or the paddock, her stomach leapt into her throat. She was so unused to speaking to most of the drivers that every interaction made her feel like a short circuit. She was now hyper aware of the fact that another driver was perceiving her as an actual person, not just ‘that girl,’ and she didn't know what to do with herself.

“Pierre, well done mate.” Franz said, giving him a hug with some aggressive back pats to maintain his masculinity. “Syd,” he said more sullenly, pulling away from Pierre to stand facing her. “Just unlucky today, huh?” He was clearly looking for one of her warm, well natured smiles she typically wore at all times, and it took all of her strength to muster up even half of that.

“ Unlucky? ” She thought. “ Unlucky my ass. It wouldn't be ‘unlucky’ for Pierre, it would be unfair and uncalled for. ” But these weren't vocalised. Instead she said, “We’ll do better next time.” in a way that grouped her in with the unprepared pit crew and potentially biased FiA stewards, making her seem humble yet driven. Daisy had trained her well. She had about 15 minutes until she had to head to her interviews, enough time to weigh herself, strip off the top outer layer of her overalls and run over her standard answers for the evening.

“Hey babe.” Daisy said in a pitying tone.

“Daisy, I am not a child, you do not need to speak to me like that.” Sydney said with a smile on her face nonetheless. The corners of her mouth perked up around the straw of her bottle, and Daisy looked mildly less serious.

“I just feel bad. You qualified 10th, you should've been up in the thick of it.” She replied.

“Well, just bad luck.” They shared a knowing look but neither voiced what they were really thinking. “I hope this afternoon will be straight forward, I feel an headache approaching.”

Daisy chuckled and checked a notification on her phone before locking it again. “You’ll be right, just need to make sure you use a lot of ‘we’s’, not I’s or they’s. Makes you sound like a team player. When they ask about Valtteri they’ll be trying to get a rise out of you, so you just say that you respect the FiA’s decision, because it's not like we're appealing it or anything. Oh, and they might ask you something about Pierre, but you always know what to say in that case.” At the mention of his name, Sydney couldn't help but think back to what Lando had said about them being just friends. They were both pretty drunk and tired, he was probably just trying to liven up the conversation.

“Sounds so exciting, where will we start?” Sydney asked as they entered the paddock. Daisy checked her phone again before pointing to the dreaded stage. Sky sports. “But why, they cannot start with someone else for a change? I need a warm up before them.”

Daisy laughed and replied, “You're a big ticket item, they want first dibs.”

Sydney laughed and could just hear the presenters talking about her approaching the stand as they always did when Charles, seemingly out of nowhere, began to speak to her.

“ I guess we both got shitty results today. ” He said, giving her a sympathetic look.

“ I know, at least I finished the race though. ” She laughed and gave him a lunch on the arm.

“ Fuck off, don't you have somewhere to be?" He replied, pointing behind him. She shook her head and walked up onto the platform, noting that the presenters had been making comments about their conversation as she stalled. They always did though, what else did they have to say?

“Bonjour mademoiselle.” Natalie said, laughing in her TV presenter kind of way. Sydney always remembered her name now, it was the rest of the men she still struggled with.

“Bonjour, bonjour.” Sydney replied, playing along with the joke. Her cheeks were aching more than her limbs from the amount of smiling she was doing, but that was just part of the job.

“One of these days you’ll have to help me work on my French.” Natalie said.

“Only if you return the favour in English.” Sydney laughed back, hoping it didn't sound too forced.

“Well Sydney, it's probably not the way you wanted today to pan out, is it?” The male presenter on the other side of her said.

“No, not really, but what can you do? Sometimes we have bad races, today was just, euh, one of those days.” She said into the microphone.

“I mean, obviously the pit stop was unfortunate, but what do you think about that penalty? I know me and Crofty were having a bit of discussion up in the commentary box.”

“Ah, well, with these things it is hard to say, I have not seen the video back but the stewards have made their choice, so I am sure that they made the just one and I will respect that decision. Maybe if we were racing for P1 it would feel more, euh, um,” She started waving her hands in front of her trying to find the word before remembering that someone had said it was annoying, so she stopped, “angering.” That isn't a word, but no one brought it up.

“Of course, of course, but with your teammate Pierre up in 6th it must make the team's spirits a bit better.”

“Definitely, it was an amazing result from Pierre and hopefully I can be a bit closer to him in the next race.” She usually didn't mind having to comment on Pierre, despite him never really talking about her, but something about it today made her simmering blood boil. She was annoyed about the pitstop and she was annoying about the penalty, and she didn't give a fuck about how well Pierre did. But she couldn't let that out, because then she could be called a bitch and her likeability points would be lost forever.

“Well it was great to hear from you Sydney, better luck next time. And now we'll head over to the paddock where Paul’s with Valterri Bottas to hear his side of things.” Natalie announced, her expression falling back into neutral as soon as the cameras cut. “I think that penalty was bullshit, to be completely honest.” Natalie said quietly. Sydney was taken aback but felt immediately less on edge.

“I cannot say anything though, can I? I cannot be the driver that cried sexism.” Sydney said, her smile falling but feeling better than she had all day.

“No, I reckon bottle it up for a memoir in 30 years about your career, it's good shit you've got for it. Oh fuck, we're back on in a sec, I’ll see you round.” Natalie said, smiling her real smile, and Sydney felt herself smile one back without even thinking.

“What did Natalie say?” Daisy asked, shepherding them off towards the busier section of the paddock.

“That I should write a memoir in 30 years about sexism in F1.” Sydney joked.

“Well, naturally.” Daisy replied in all seriousness, stopping before the Ziggo sport team where Max was being interviewed, all in Dutch of course. She must’ve been speaking to Natalie for longer than she thought if the podium finishers were here already.

“De volgende is Sydney Laurent, onze favoriete Fransman op de baan!” Olav, the Dutch presenter said as she took Max’s spot, giving him a ‘good job’ handshake and they swapped positions. She had no idea what the presenter was saying, but his excited voice alongside her talk with Natalie had her in a much better mood. Still fairly pissed off though.

“Hallo Sydney.”

“Hallo Olav, hoe gaat het?” She knew one Dutch phrase and used it every race weekend.

“I am good, I think I’m much better than you, don't you agree?” He replied. She felt comfortable enough to be a bit more honest.

“I think so, definitely.”

“Let's talk about the penalty because, let's be honest, what was that?” Olav asked, as blunt as ever. Sydney laughed before replying to make sure she didn't sound too angry.

“I have not seen the video, it could have been really bad, I cannot be sure, but, euh, from my view, I do not think that it was worth 5 seconds, especially because it was decided after the pitstop.”

“Yah, a bit like salt in the wound.”

“Exactly, and I was very, very wounded.” They both laughed. The interviews after that went pretty similarly, although far less entertaining. 45 minutes later she was in the motorhome’s shower, water running down her hair and skin. The white towel felt soft on her face as she stepped out, and she almost wanted to disappear into it before the engineering debrief that would take up the next hour or so. As much as she could blame it on the penalty or the pitstop, deep deep down she knew that if she had just driven a little bit better, taken each corner just that bit faster, she wouldn't have done as poorly as she had. Lewis Hamilton didn't come in 16th.

“Syd, come watch this.” Daisy said happily from a chair in her little room, sound coming out of her phone speakers. She recognised the track in a strange way, in that she hadn't seen herself on it from this angle before. What she recognised clearly, however, was Olav’s voice building to an energised intensity as she realised it was the corner where she'd copped her penalty, and suddenly Bottas’s car was skidding into the run off area and Olav was yelling English and Dutch profanities. Even watching back the low quality, poorly translated video she could see how it was hardly her fault and should’ve been ruled off as a racing incident. So, instead of laughing how she was meant to, Sydney couldn't stop herself from crying.

Daisy nearly dropped her phone from surprise before wrapping her arms around Sydney, her sniffles filling up the quiet room. “ It wasn't my fault, those stupid sexist pigs think that Max and Lewis can kill each other for the race but I can't even try and overtake a Mercedes, god, fuck, sometimes I hate this job so fucking much. ” She said through tears. She knew perfectly well Daisy had no idea what she was saying, except maybe for fuck , but it felt good to get it out nonetheless.

“Sorry,” Sydney said finally, attempting to wipe her face as she sat up and out of Daisy's embrace. “I’ve been holding that in for a few hours, can you tell?” Daisy laughed sadly and handed her a tissue box.

“I get it, most of the boys can let it out a bit in their interviews. Maybe I should let you get angrier.” Daisy replied, and Sydney just gave her a look.

“I think we both know that I would not be able to stop myself.” Sydney replied, blowing her nose one final time. They were both startled by a knock on the door, and Daisy got up to answer it.

“The debrief’s been postponed, John and Marcus have food poisoning from that dodgy seafood we told them not to get, and we think Luca’s well on the way.” Sydney heard one of the engineers say from behind the door.

“Cool, I’ll let Syd know when she's out of the shower.” Daisy said in her upbeat voice, strategically hiding Sydney behind her before shutting the door. “You wanna talk?” She asked when she was sure the engineer was out of ear shot.

“Not really.” Sydney said, and for some reason Lando flashed in her head as she said it.

“I can go find Pierre if you’d like.” Daisy pressed on.

“No, really it is okay. I will go back to the hotel and watch Modern Family or something until I fall asleep.” Sydney laughed halfheartedly and began to pack up her things.

“And there's nothing wrong with that.” Daisy said, picking up her laptop bag and switching off the lights once Sydney had left the room.

In actual fact, the hotel TV was broken and Sydney couldn't be bothered calling someone to get it fixed, so instead she plucked herself out of bed and decided she would go talk to Pierre. They were in the same hotel, and she knew his room number. In a moment of foresight, she decided to text Pierre that she was coming, just in case he had a lady friend up in his bed. “ R u busy rn? i wanna vent lmao ”

She realised once the door closed behind her that she was wearing trackies and her old international go-karting championship hoodie, but then again it was Monaco, so everyone in the hotel would know who she was and she didn't feel as much of a need to prove herself. For some reason Pierre had been placed on the floor above, so she padded down to the elevator in her worn tennis shoes and fluffy socks to press the up button and wait for the ding.

It didn't clock in her head that not everyone had such a dismal day, and that many people would be out partying and just getting back now. As the doors opened, drunk Red Bull Engineers piled out, most too sloshed to notice her, and some providing a conciliatory pat on the back. It was only once that crowd had passed that she noticed Lando standing there, hands in his pockets. His white button up was slightly ruffled and untucked, but it matched his hair and made him look incredibly attractive in the soft hotel lighting. “Where are you headed?” He asked, words slightly slurred but not unintelligible. His eyes dipped to her hoodie, and she felt herself blush with realisation.

“I was just going to speak with Pierre, but, euh,” She was scrambling now as she watched him smirk slowly, “not, not in the fashion that you said a few days before, we are still just friends. I’m just, euh, sad, after today, that’s all.” She finished, and his smirk softened into a smile. She was still standing too close to the sensor for the doors to shut, so she moved towards him slightly and they slid closed behind her.

“Gotcha, nothing suspicious about that at all.” Lando replied. The doors were now opening on the level above, and she barely processed herself following him past Pierre’s door down to his own where he stopped and turned back to face her.

“If I felt that way about Pierre, I would tell you.” Sydney said. She was surprised at her words and yet somehow she knew that they were true.

“Why?” Lando asked.

“Um, I don't know, euh, Pierre’s room is back down there, euh,” she trailed off, subconsciously waiting for Lando to speak again.

“You don't want to have an English lesson now?” Lando said cheekily, and from the way he was swaying gently she knew he'd had a few to drink.

“Maybe when I’m not having to come to your hotel room in the middle of the night.” She smiled.

“What will you talk to Pierre about?” Lando said nearly immediately, as if she hadn't spoken at all.

“Probably my shitty race, maybe some other things.” Sydney said, trailing off, now embarrassed by the whole thing. Lando was standing in front of her, golden and glowing after his podium, having just come back from celebrating one of the best races of his career, and she was looking like her parents had forgotten to pick her up from a karting tournament after she lost.

“You can talk to me about your shitty race.” Lando said, his head leaning back on the door. It tilted his chin up very slightly and she tried not to look at his neck, although it was challenging.

“After yours? I do not think so.” Lando just smiled.

“You should say don't.” He was basically humming now, and she involuntarily moved closer to hear him.

“What?” Sydney replied, now smiling as well.

“When you say do not, you should say don't. It would be like me saying je ai instead of j’ai.” His accent was subpar, but she couldn't help but feel butterflies at him referencing her first language.

“And you should go to bed.” She said, giving him a push on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay, fine, but you aren't appreciating my invaluable knowledge enough.” He was fumbling with the key card and couldn't get it to swipe through the reader. Maybe he was drunker than she thought.

“Let me.” Sydney said, and their fingers touched and arms pressed together as she took his key card and swiped it, getting the desired green light and hearing the lock click open. She pressed the card back into his open palm and looked up at him, only to find his eyes already on her. “Night-night.” She said, stepping away.

“Mm, bonne nuit.” He replied. It wasn't until the door was closed that she pulled out her phone and saw the forgotten replies from Pierre. “ Not busy, u want me to come down or u come up? ” From 10 minutes ago. Although something inside her felt satisfied now, like she had just had a warm shower and could settle down in her bed, she knew she still had things to get off her chest.

“ Be there in a few ”

She took the steps from Lando’s room to Pierre’s very slowly, and couldn't help but look back at the door Lando had lain his brown curls on moments before.

#Formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader

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spotsandsocks · 2 years

Text

Throwback Thursday

A lovely idea from @blaidddrwg1982 who was lovely enough to tag me this morning and by the time I actually got round to this so had @rogerzsteven @imsupposedtobewritting @the-likesofus

Here’s one of my early fics, I and my first try a smuttiness (so works for thirsty Thursday too thanks for that tag too @imsupposedtobewritting ) was a bit worried rereading it but it wasn’t too bad!

Tags for @elvensorceress @hetrez @ajunerose @loveyourownsmiilee @fleurdebeton @jacksadventuresinwriting @sibylsleaves

rules: post something from an old work, maybe a wip you never finished or a passage you really love from a published fic!

A date or not a date, that is the question 3.4K M/E

Buck sighed as he made up his mind, he didn’t really want to have to do this but he was desperate for some clarity. Fearing the worse but letting his optimistic sprit swing him forward he walked over to the kitchen took a deep breath and jumped in,

“So I’ve got this friend and .”

Two head turned to him, fixing him with their undivided attention. It’s a little alarming.

“A friend?!” Chim interrupted him looking amused, his tone already full of disbelief and suppressed amusement as he glanced at Hen.

Buck’s heart sinks, yeah, this was going to be bad. He decides to persevere anyway.

“Yes, a friend,” Buck said firmly. “Who has this problem.”

“What’s his name?” Hen asked helpfully

“His name?” He probably should have thought of that.

“Yes your friend’s name, it’ll help me create a better picture of him” Hen said deadpan

“Chad” he said flatly, choosing at random.

“Chad?”You actually have a friend called Chad?” Chim asked no longer even pretending to believe him.

“I could do! Anyway, that's not important and it’s hardly his fault if his parents called him Chad is it?!” Buck defends his imaginary friend’s, imaginary name.

“Ok ok fine.” Chim smirks, hands up to calm him, “so what’s Chad’s problem?”

“He’s got a friend.”

“Your friend’s friend is your friend’s problem?” Chim said the smirk breaking into a full grin.

“Chim” he’s moments from turning around and abandoning the whole thing “are you gonna help me or not?”

Chim’s face said it could go either way but he stays quiet so Buck continues.

“Chad and his friend. I don’t know his name,” Buck said pointedly as Hen opened her mouth again. “Well they’re going out together to get some food, just them,”

Here’s the tricky bit ,“and this friend,”

“Your friend or the friend’s friend?” Hen looks far too amused in Buck’s opinion.

A weary sigh escapes before he answers, “The friend” he continues rising above his unhelpful colleague’s comments “said and I quote “it’s a date” and I… Chad doesn’t know if that means it’s a date date or you know just a date.”

Chim nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully “quite the dilemma you, uh Chad have there Buck.”

“What day is the ‘date’?” Hen asked.

“Friday”

“Traditional date night” they said together.

“You think?” Buck had thought that too.

“Any um ‘sexual tension’ between Chad and his unnamed friend?” Hen asked, dropping air quotes alongside a raised eyebrow.

Buck blushed, “uh I don’t know maybe, a bit”. He looked down, I mean Chad likes this friend more than just as a friend you know, but he’s never said it to him.”

“Does this friend of Chad have anyone special in their lives?”

“No.”

“I see, is the friend hot?”

“Yes. I mean Chad says he is.”

“Is Chad hot?” Chim asks

Buck rolls his eyes, “Chim that is not the point. Is it a date?”

“No idea, sorry man.” Chim laughed.

“Uh! You two are useless.” he complained and stormed off to find someone more sensible, ignoring Eddie coming past in the opposite direction.

“What’s with him?” Eddie asked glancing back at Buck who was muttering to himself as he disappeared out of sight.

“He’s freaking out.” Chim supplied, “His imaginary friend Chad has a date.”

“Or doesn’t” Hen added helpfully.

“His what now?” Eddie face screwed up in confusion.

“Anyway,” hen throws Eddie a grin “you all ready for Friday, hot stuff?”

“Definitely” Eddie replied with a slight blush and a smile. “Looking forward to it, it’s been a long time coming.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Chim agreed.

Once Eddie left them, Hen looked at Chim. “You don’t think we should put Buck out of his misery then? Or at least tell Eddie he’s having a crisis.”

“and ruin all the sexual tension, no way!”

#buddie #throwback thursday #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911fic #911 fox #911 fic

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number-one-crush · 1 year

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LF DoL M!LIxF!PC RP! (w/ me as the LIs and you as the PC!)

What an absolute fucking MESS of a title that is, lmaoooo TT

ASSORTED WARNINGS: 22+!! TW: dead dove and shit, it’s Degrees of Lewdity, please be careful people who don’t know what that is!

Hey (maybe future) friends! I’ve recently gotten into DOL and have been pretty obsessed with it lately. It’s got all the things I love, and by all the things I love, I mostly mean: EVERYONE LOVES ONE PERSON AND NO ONE IS HAPPY ABOUT IT and TOXIC FUCKING OBSESSIVE RELATIONSHIPS. So, without further ado…

THE PREMISE:

My favorite characters by far are Whitney and Kylar. I imagine I’d also probably really like Eden, too, but I actually haven’t really tried anything with him yet, and honestly, as much as he sounds like a real catch, I just really, really thrive off all the jealous drama between Whitney, Kylar, Sydney and Robin at school.

So like, I’d really like to RP that. And by that, I mean that I’d like to write Whitney and Kylar… and to a lesser extent, (mostly for drama) Robin and Sydney, as being wildly in love with and obsessed with your PC so we can explore the absolute mess of a fall out that inevitably causes. :v

My favorite thing to do with characters I love is to write for them: there’s something really fun about getting into that headspace and exploring the way they feel and how they’d behave, and I love it. I could write fanfiction, and I can’t lie: the temptations have been there! But honestly, it’s hard for me to motivate myself writing fanfiction when the chance to write against someone else and geek out over the absolute fucking disaster-nonsense our characters get up to together is so much more fun. ):

SO: DETAILS!

I really only do MxF, with me playing the LIs as dudes and you playing the PC as a lady. Sorry for any other pairing combination, I just wouldn’t have the same inspiration to write for other configurations. ): I’m not going to tell you how your PC should look or really behave, and I look forward to hearing about her from you! I love getting excited about other peoples’ OCs!

I’ve got headcanons for the boys (which are pretty typical, honestly!), but I am of course open to input from you on what you’d like to see, too. :>

Since this is DOL, obvious content warnings apply! Noncon/dubcon, abusive and messed-up situations… they pretty much come with the territory, though I’m not looking to make anyone uncomfy and I’ve got no problem toning some things down or ratcheting things up based on what you do or don’t feel comfy with! I’d like to feel comfortable talking OOC to make sure everyone feels okay about stuff.

Which brings my rambling to my next point: DOL is obviously a sex game and I’m not opposed to raw smut or anything. But what I miss from the game is the emotional turmoil and fucked up sense of longing – and an obvious desire to possess PC – that I feel Kylar and even Whitney are drowning in. We get to see their actions, but not their thoughts, and I really want to do this to develop and dwell on those feelings! I want to see them and the PC involved in situations (fucked up as they are) that allow those things to really flourish and shine. I am an absolute slut for deep, anguished, sometimes violent obsession in characters… I just think getting to explore that is SUPER sexy in fiction, so maybe expect a like 80/20 plot to smut ration. Maybe 70/30? I feel like the smut hits a LOT harder if you’ve got a lot of pent up feelings behind it.

Honestly, I don’t even NEED smut, but like, it’s DOL, so it kinda feels like it comes with the territory? Your girl here really lives the tumultuous, angsty emotional foreplay, whoops. ): I just really wanna write a bunch of really fucked up dudes falling in love with PC – bullying her, stalking her, meekly trying to protect her… you get the vibe!

ANYWAY, some things I’d hope for/need from you!:

+ Absolutely, positively, with no exceptions, you need to be like, middish twenties or older. I’m older myself and I absolutely have no desire to interact with teenagers. No offense to teenagers, you all can make great writers – just as someone who is absolutely not a teenager, it’s just what I’m comfortable with. Even if the subject matter wasn’t super-ultra-fucked, I wouldn’t feel comfy with it.

+ I’d like someone who understands that, as an adult, I have a job and a partner and a relatively active social life with my (one) good friend, so I will probably manage a post or two a day, sometimes a post every two! It might be more than that if I really get into the vibe, but ya know…

+ I like to be descriptive when I write, somewhere between pretentious-fuckoffery and wordy-but-functional. Sometimes I’ll do a few paragraphs… sometimes, I really get into it and it can be a couple pages. I tend to be reactive to what is needed for a scene: flashy back-and-forth dialogue is gonna make for shorter posts, but sometimes I really like getting into my character’s headspace and waxing poetic about how much they want their love interest for like, a few paragraphs or more. I’d like someone who can at least manage a few paragraphs! One liner stuff does nothing to me; I want to be able to feel like my characters have a reason to WANT your character, so I need something to work with! Please have a pretty good grasp of grammar and what not, too! Obviously stylistic choices can make for some fun grammar fuckery, and I’m not about to judge for some spelling errors, but like, please please have a pretty good grasp of writing! I live for good writing partners. ):

+ TENSE/POV: I am not super picky, but I admit I love the present tense second person of the game. As someone who was super into Homestuck, that shit just jives with me. That said, I’m open to a lot of different things, just absolutely NO FIRST PERSON. I cannot stand it in RP, it really takes me out. We can hash it out!

+ The ability to advocate for yourself OOC! The subject matter is icky, and I don’t want to traumatize anyone. We don’t need to be best OOC friends, but I hope we can feel comfortable with each other enough to hash things out outside of RP so we can both feel okay with whatever is going on! I’d also really like to just be able to gush about our characters OOC, please! TT Like, let’s be dumb and make playlists and pinterests, ahhhhhh! If you got a song you got that reminds you of things, PLEASE TELL ME, I wanna be a total fucking nerd about our fucked up children!

+ Discord! I tend to use discord to RP because servers make things easier to organize! Please use it! I don’t really like using anything else, womp womp. ):

So! If you’ve read all that, and you’re interested, please hmu here on Tumblr! I hate the ask/messaging system here, so like, you can just drop me some info on your PC and maybe your discord handle via one of those, and we can move to Discord to see if we’d make good RP partners!

Thanks a bunch and looking forward to hearing from you!

PS: Please excuse the Dabi theme-ing, I’m too lazy to change my very basic theme-ing. I love love fucked up dudes, and I cannot lie.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #degrees of lewdity rp #dol rp #kylar the loner #whitney the bully #proship rp #kylar the loner rp #whitney the bully rp #degrees of lewdity roleplay #dol roleplay #mxf rp #mxf roleplay

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nonbinaryeye · 2 years

Text

All the people who ever loved Jonah Magnus

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 2 - Ghost

Elias is trying to have sex with Peter. Peter decides such a time is best for asking about all the other people his husband has slept with.

Read on AO3

…

Peter Lukas has a strange gift to start conversation at the worst possible time. Or at least that is what Elias claims. And Peter’s occasional husband likes to claim lots of contradictory things. He demands him to shut up almost as much as he wants him to speak his mind. How is Peter supposed to guess which time he is supposed to do what?

“Did you actually love them?”

“Who?”

“You know that I do not really remember their names… All you previous lovers?”

“Wonderful question and I would love nothing more than to tell you every detail of all my lives but could you maybe choose a more appropriate time for conversation as this? We are in the middle of something, dear!” To make his point clear and to demonstrate what really should Peter pay attention to he makes sure to thrust himself especially roughly on his dick. The more or less loud sighs of pleasure escape both of their lips.

Ah, so sex is then not a good time for intimate conversation. Peter would say he will remember it for the next time but that would be a lie. It is not like he would bother to ask him any other time anyway. It is not that he would not like sex, he can even enjoy it sometimes. Most of the time he just finds it a bit boring.

“Peter! Focus!” Elias hisses at him and wraps his hand around the base of his cock squeezing it almost to a painful level. Is he getting soft or does his dearest partner just mind he dares to look somewhere else than at him? ¨

And Pete has been so sure he is doing a good job with pretending to be interested today. He is even holding his hips. There is not even much else he can do since Elias does not like when he disrupts his rhythm when he is riding him. Peter tries to focus on him for a bit, the way his own dick is disappearing inside him, the movement of his muscles, focused expression on his face, few hear that dared to slip from his usually neatly slicked hair, moans escaping his lips in tone too melodically to them not to be practised…

And then Peter’s eyes focus on the wall behind his lover once again.

“So did you? Love them?”

It is not Peter’s fault that he is this distracted today. After their last divorce Elias put a painting of Jonah Magnus surrounded by all of his closest friends. He suspects that it was painted later based on other portraits of those people and Jonah’s memory. Peter is not usually listening when his husband is telling him stories from his past but from that little that he did not manage to filter out he got a feeling that the most of them were not getting along. They probably never even all met in passing let alone to stand for Jonah’s portrait. His eyes keep avoiding the left side of the frame all together. Some one them might even wish to never have any portraits of them…

“It is not important,” Elias huffs. He does sound a bit annoyed. But also, a bit amused. Hard to say if by the question itself or the suggestion that he might have such a feeling towards his long dead friends. “The only important thing is that they did love me.”

“Huh…” Peter has not expected this answer. But that is simply because he had no expectation in the first place.

“And if you speak another word, I will smother you with a pillow.” Elias leans forward diving his nails into his shoulder in warning. Peter can feel Elias’s cock pressing against him smearing a bit of precum against his stomach. There is hunger for pleasure in those grey eyes staring him down. What else is Peter than an instrument to reach such a goal? Just a tool to use for his pleasure?

Peter closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Elias’ hand moves to his exposed neck. Movements of his hips lose their pace as he is getting closer to his climax. Peter grabs his length and Elias gasps over the newly gained friction. The much more honest and less controlled moans start to escape from Elias’ lips and it does not even take a whole minute till he is hit with a wave of bliss in his orgasm.

Peter does not reach his own release. He would have to start focusing on the act between them much sooner if he wanted to cum inside his husband who has no interest to wait when or if Peter will pay attention to the intercourse. Elias, still out of breath, gets up from the still hard cock of his partner and slides down on the bed next to him.

There is a moment of quiet before Elias catches his breath. Peter enjoys the silence and emptiness that fills the air after not completely satisfactory sex.

“What is with you today? Why can’t you…” Elias sits up with mild annoyance in his voice followed by a resigned sigh. “You know what, never mind. I will take a shower.” He gets up from the bed. Then only as an afterthought he turns back to him. “You can stay the night if you want to.”

And just like that Peter is left there alone. He has been planning to leave but upon learning he has not been expected to stay in the first place and has been given a bare allowance he decides to stay. The shower in the next room starts. Peter considers finishing himself off by hand but then he decides against it. Too much work. His cock will eventually get soft on its own. His eyes start to wander around the room again, somehow lured to that damned portrait again.

Sometimes he feels like ghosts of all the people that used to love Jonah are still lingering among them in some unspoken way. Elias never says that he thinks this one person was a better kisser or that that one knew how to make him better coffee and that some other one was overall a better lover. But it feels as if Elias had to bite his tongue just so he does not ask ‘why cannot you be more like Barnabas’ or ‘why cannot you be more like…’ Peter frowns as he really cannot recall any other name. Not that he minds. He still knows two too many.

There indeed seemed to be a lot of people who were in love with Jonah Magnus. There are six people in the painting, seven if he counts Jonah in the middle of them. His eyes slide to the person who he always tries to avoid as much as he can. Well, there seem to be a lot of people who Jonah thinks that were in love with him to be more exact. Does he really know thanks to the powers granted to him by the Beholding that his friends were genuinely in love with him? Or is it based on his own assumptions driven by his own vanity?

He could ask. Elias would love nothing more than to tell him. But it is easier not to know. It is easier not to be aware if Jonah really has the power of knowing one's true feelings because Peter would like to keep believing that he does not.

The bed moves slightly as Elias sits on the other side of it. Has he really been so quick with his shower and evening skincare routine or has Peter been just lost so deep in his own thoughts?

“You should also go get a shower.”

“I am fine.”

“Of course, you are.” For some reason Elias sounds bothered by him. Is it still because he was not paying much attention during the sex or is it something he said now? Not that Peter cares.

Elias shuts the light which is good as he it makes Peter realize he was still staring at that stupid painting. He also steals most of the blanket for himself and wishes him good night. Peter still thinks in the most general terms possible about all people who ever loved Jonah Magnus. What a lonely feeling it must have been for all of them to be in love with someone like Jonah. Someone who will never truly return the feelings and affections and only keep demanding more and more. Were they happy in such a state? Were they wondering if Jonah loves them from all the other people? Were they wondering if he loves the over more? Was it even possible to believe that Jonah is capable of love?

Peter does not know since he never knew what kind of person Jonan Magnus used to be. He turns his eyes to his husband next to him. He does not really even know what kind of person Jonah Magnus is now. Not that he would want to know.

“I don’t love you though.”

“Yes, you do claim that a lot.” Elias turns to him. He does not seem to be shocked – neither by his proclamation nor lack of context for it. There is a smile on his face.

“It is true.”

“I have never suggested I doubt that, have I?” Elias’ smile grows wider. Peter frowns.

“I do not love you, Jonah.”

“I know, Peter. I have heard you the first time.”

Peter hates the words, the intonation, the fact that he indeed cannot object anything to them. But most of all Peter hates how much they make doubt him. He is certain he does not love Jonah Magnus. He is a servant of the Forsaken, he is not allowed to… not able to love anyone. Then why whenever the bastard agrees it sounds so much like mocking?

Peter looks for more words to say but there are none.

“Now if it’s all I would like to get some sleep, my dear.” Elias moves closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then he turns his back to him. Soon he appears to fall into peaceful sleep while Peer is left there thinking. He still does not believe he loves Jonah. But maybe if he did, it would not be such a bad thing. There is something very comfortingly lonely about loving someone who is very unlikely to reciprocate the feelings.

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