#but jesus fucking christ the dialogue and the shots sounds and looks like EVERY OTHER FUCKING ACTION MOVIE
Text
going to eat peter hyams alive just watched 2010
#i. you. you cant.#i expected it to be not as good as 2001 and it was so much worse than i thought it would be#like yeah. kubrick burned most of the og material bc he was kinky like that. and they did a rly good job recreating it#and adding new things#but in terms of dialogue. cinematography. soundtrack???#genuinely. how did you fuck it up THAT bad.#i went in with a low bar and they dug to the center of the earth with it#at least we got reqium and thus spoke zarathustra. dunno what i wouldve done without them#you could have TRIED to make more than like. a singular symbolic shot#kubrick was an abusive dickhead but by god. he made a good fucking movie#he burned things in fear that anyone making sequels would fuck it up. and then he let you make a sequel. and you fucked it up.#like it didn't have to be great! for hyams to have had 4+ major roles in the creating of it he was prbly already taking on a lot of stress#but jesus fucking christ the dialogue and the shots sounds and looks like EVERY OTHER FUCKING ACTION MOVIE#YOU CANT MAKE A SEQUEL IF YOU ARENT GOING TO AT LEAST TRY TO FUCKING IMITATE THE ORIGINAL#like you could have TRIED to imitate it and not done a great job and i would have been so much happier!! you couldve tried!!!!#for the love of god could you have at least given me a correct shot of hal!!!#ive read the wikis for the sequel novels looking forward to reading 2010#bc ik they got the plot right. but. that was pretty much the one thing they got right.#also shoutout to keir dullea for somehow looking the same 16 years later. how the helld you do that#hold on rereading the wiki. wdym some of the characters were whitewashed. wdym max and curnow were bisexual and dated.#that. that better be true istg#ANYWAY.#i have to stop. otherwise i'll keep going.
0 notes
Text
˚ · • . ° . 𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐓.
summary: you and your boyfriend eddie decide to have some fun in the living room, what you fail to notice is that your boyfriends roommate steve is also awake. and he can’t help himself.
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious), kinda pervy!steve, msturbation, degrading, praises, kind of a choking kink if u squint, VERY LIGHT dom/sub dynamics (like very very light), dom!eddie, sub!reader.
pairings: boyfriend!eddie munson x reader x roommate!steve harrington
author’s note: i just love steddie. if you see me repost this a few times no u didn't. not proof-read. ignore mistakes!!
Steve wasn't a morning person.
So it was no surprise when he tossed in the bed, groaning and whining at the noise coming outside of his room.
His pillow was smushed against his ears, attempting to cancel out the noise.
“F—fuck, s—shit, angel, take it, mmpf.” He barely had one eye open, and couldn't make up most of the dialogue, so he tried to make sense of the noise coming from the living room.
He removed the pillow from his ear, face scrunched in annoyance as he listened in.
Grunts, whines, and the slapping of skin mixed together, with Steve’s hazed state, he could barely make sense of it. But once he heard your pretty whines his eyes shot open.
Holy fucking shit. The two of you weren’t doing what he thought you were… Were you?
He sat up quickly, hand rubbing his eyes before he carefully situated himself on the bed to look through the gap where his door had opened slightly.
“Fuuuuck, just like that, princess, take my cock, mhmm.” Another grunt from Eddie, his skin slapping into yours, head thrown back, his hold on your waist bruisingly rough. Or at least that’s what Steve imagined, hearing Eddie’s raspy voice mixed with your silenced grunts was enough to fuel his morning wood harder than imaginable.
He was aching already, his cock painfully caged in his boxers, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t take a peek. He should just attempt to go to sleep again, he should give the two of you privacy.
But, fuck, was it tempting.
This is all he ever wanted, he knew how perverted that sounded, but this was his chance.
The walls in the apartment were thin, so fucking thin that he would hear your mewls every night, and Eddie’s dirty talk. He would never admit to how many times he got off to the sound of the two of you going at it. It was embarrassing, outright disgusting, and he felt ashamed.
A crimson red and disgust colored his cheeks the second he came all over his hand, sticky, always so much that it spurted all over his chest. But, god, did it feel so fucking good.
He didn’t know what it was that drew him in this much, Eddie’s dominance, your pathetic whines, him degrading you while you begged for more, it was all of it. And he was begging to get a glimpse of it, a little taste.
“Yeah, baby, you like that don’t you?” More sounds coming from the two of you, Eddie’s cocky tone enough to have Steve feel himself against his boxers.
He was hard, so achingly hard that he hissed, and his other hand immediately clamped down on his mouth to shut himself up, the skin slapping and the cursing didn’t falter a bit.
He could totally get away with this.
And he was about to burst in his pants, a little peek, wouldn’t hurt, would it? Jesus Christ, he knew it was wrong, but this was the perfect opportunity, he finally could see your fucked out face, Eddie’s cocky grins, he needed this. He deserved this.
Steve shifted quietly in his bed, concealing himself but still getting a good look at the two of you, his cock was needy, weeping, and he needed to give it attention soon. Just the look in your eyes, the way Eddie was all the way into you made him bite his lip to conceal the groans that slipped past his parted lips.
“Ssshh, baby, I know, I know, but you gotta quiet down a little, yea?” Eddie cooed against your face, biting and nibbling a trail from your chin to your neck, a grin sitting on his lips.
Fuck, Steve wished he could do that, have you sprawled on him on the couch, bare pussy on sight while he fucked himself into you, legs wrapped around him, while he left marks on your neck, truly owning you, like Eddie did.
Eddie squished your cheeks to quiet you down, his cock still hitting spots inside of your walls that you didn’t know existed, and you were quick to pout. “You don’t want our little roommate to wake up and see you like this, do you?”
Steve’s ears perked at that, bubblegum pink all over his cheeks, but it only encouraged him more and more, his cock engorged with blood and the need to fuck his hands was all he could think about.
The two of you were talking about him, and he was more than intrigued. Slowly but surely, Steve pushed his boxers down his thighs, hissing quietly when his heavy erection bobbed out, plopping against his v-line, tip hot and angry, waiting to be attended.
Eddie had you split in half, or at least that’s what it looked like to Steve, “Whinin’ like a bitch in heat, soakin’ my cock and still beggin’ for more.” Eddie grunted, Steve watched in awe, how hungrily you looked at Eddie, those doe-eyes looking so innocent yet you were anything but. Eddie was sliding in and out of your walls, harsh, quick, and making sure you could feel him fully.
Steve bit his lip to hide the groan that dared the slip past his mouth, cock hot and pulsating in his hands, he spat on it with a shuddered breath, wishing that instead of his hands he could push his veiny cock into every single one of your holes. Drawing out those pleas and whines from you like Eddie did.
Eddie’s cocky, domineering words also got him going, he didn’t know what was taking over him; he needed you under him, whining and begging for him, but he also wanted Eddie to dominate him as well, a fucked up dynamic that he would die to be a part of. You, submitting to both of them, while Eddie dominated both of you. And Steve in the middle, it would be perfect.
Eddie’s hands were bruisingly all over you, cock pounding into you with such force that Steve watched open-mouthed, wishing he could get a taste of you, wishing he could feel the way your tight cunt took him in.
“Oh, shit, you’d like that, baby wouldn’t you? Such a little slut, you’d want Harrington to see you all pathetic like this?” Eddie grinned, mocking you further and further, causing you to mewl at him pathetically.
Steve smeared his spit all over his cock, using it as a lubricant while he desperately wrapped his palm around it, ungodly sounds escaping his lips, not able to help himself when the two of you started talking about him.
His sickly desires coming to life in the best fucking way possible.
“You’d want Steve to see you bein’ my personal cocksleeve?” Heat rushed to your cheeks quickly, face feeling hot both from desire and how filthy Eddie was being, and he knew you loved it.
You shook your head shyly, gaze still on him with a pout. “Nuh—uh, don’t lie, baby, I know you like an audience.” Steve tugged at his cock feverishly, knuckles turning white with how much desire ran in his veins, his mouth hung open both from the pleasure and the words being uttered, would the two of you be into this as well?
God, he wanted nothing more than to have you underneath him as Eddie did, he wanted to get a taste of you, he wanted to feel your pussy squeezing him because he knew that’s what Eddie always blabbed about through those thin walls, how tight you were and how warm you felt.
Steve shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have jerked off to his roommate having sex with his girlfriend, but fucking Christ the two of you were so hot.
How was he supposed to help himself?
“Would you want him to take a turn with you?” Steve’s ears perked, and his desperate tugs at his cock almost halted, he sat up a bit straighter, hand still rubbing his aching cock but eyes searching for you, searching for that approval.
You nodded shyly, a grin appearing on Eddie’s face “Mhmm, I know you would, such a fuckin’ slut aren’t ya?” Steve’s guttural groans were concealed by the harsh skin-on-skin provided by the two of you, Eddie’s loud rambling, and his even louder grunts.
Steve perfectly red in the face, fucked his fist harder, trying so hard not to finish himself off this early, but the desire pooling in his tummy was nearing.
That shy little nod, Eddie’s wicked grin, fuck, he was going to keep this memory in his brain forever.
“Love you, pretty girl,” Eddie hummed, sloppy kisses peppered all over your perky tits, mouth latching onto one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling while his fingers drew small circles around your breasts, igniting more pleasure.
Overstimulating you in every way possible, and Steve watched with an open mouth.
Both of you could not resist the grunts that left their lips, your frail body becoming mushy at all of the sensations, looking pretty as ever.
“You look s’perfect like this, honey, did you know that? Mhmm, this cunt made just for me, huh?” Eddie cooed, and Steve’s strokes against his dick were more sensual now, it’s like he wanted to feel you too.
You sank into the couch further every time he thrust himself into you, praises making your eyes roll all the way back to your head.
“Takin’ it so well, sweetheart, look at all the sweet noises your pretty pussy makes when I’m fuckin’ you raw, huh? God I love it when you get all dumb like this on my cock, princess.” he praised.
“Being the prettiest, good girl f’me, thinkin’ about nothing but my cock, perfect little fucktoy,” He groaned, voice getting coarse with need. Those chocolate hues you loved about Eddie were long gone now, replaced by something more sinister, fueled purely by hunger, and it made your nails dig deeper into his back, making him hiss.
“Ed—Eds…” Steve wanted to worship you, all of his thoughts being stripped away because of how fucked out you looked. Candy gloss smeared all over your needy lips, hair disheveled, eyes barely open, and spread out for Eddie like the good girl you were.
“Yeah, honey? What d’ya need?” Tone saccharine sweet, his hand landed on your cheeks, smushing them together, making it harder for you to register anything, he was making you feel so hot, so much… And you couldn’t bear to talk.
“N—need to, uh—” Words died down your throat when he shoved himself deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot that made you go all dumb on him, just like he loved.
“You wanna cum, doll? Huh? Can’t handle it anymore? Thought you were my tough girl?” He mocked with an ‘Aww’ sound, jutting out his bottom lip, making you nod vigorously.
“I—I’m your good girl, sir,” you muttered. Steve was trying so hard not to tug at his poor cock harder, not to go completely feral because he so wanted to last. He wanted to hear the pretty whines that left your lips, the guttural groans that consumed Eddie.
His hands landed on your clit now, he could feel your pussy nuzzling him, could feel that familiar feeling pooling in your tummy, and he wanted to get you into that space, where you could barely talk, where you whined and trashed for him to let you cum. “B—but ‘s t—too much, need to—” You whined, struggling.
Eddie breathed out a throaty chuckle, drawing circles around your sensitive spots to earn those breathy huffs from you. “Can barely speak, such a good fuckin’ cockslut for me, aren’t ya?” He mocked, all mean and filthy.
“And, all fuckin’ mine,” He grunted, he wasn’t forgiving, and neither was his cock, slipping out of you entirely to drive you crazy. Dark chuckles left his lips when he enjoyed your little whines, that deeper dig your nails had on his back with anger.
Steve’s lips wrapped around his knuckles, biting on them to conceal the lewd noises daring to slip out.
Eddie’s huge length, slightly bent to the left, facing upwards was slicked in both of your juices. Steve wanted nothing more than to have his tongue lapping up at him, taste both of you.
“Speak up, slut, what do you want, you wanna cum, huh?” Vicious, and bold, his hand had a hold on your throat now, harsh enough to draw both pain and pleasure out of you, making you cry out at the emptiness.
“S—so mean,” you murmured, you loved every fucking second of it. But his teasing was driving you crazy, and you so badly needed that sweet release, and to feel his warm load filling your hole.
He pouted at your words, releasing your throat as his palm stroked your cheeks, he knew you enjoyed his mean side, but he still couldn’t resist your pretty face and that addictingly gentle tone.
You always knew how to break him, and to get him to do what you wanted. Which was to get completely fucked.
With a sticky sweet and delicate kiss on your lips, he was quick to thrust back into you. “‘M s—sorry, sweetheart, ‘m sorry but you’re just so pretty like this, can’t help it,” he breathed against your neck, his movements getting sloppier when your moans became more pathetic and needy, he wasn’t going to last if you came.
And it was okay because Steve was dying for a release, both knuckles white, one from tugging, the other from biting into it to stifle his loudness.
“Don’t worry, honey, you can cum for me,” He cooed, lips pressed into the shell of your ear, kissing a trail down to your cheekbones.
“S—shit, fuckin’ shit, sweetheart cum for me and I’ll give you what you need,” He fucked himself deeper, slower into you.
Steve’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, blurry vision only able to focus on the two of you.
“You want my cum don’t you, baby? Want me to fill you up?” You were gone, back arched with pleasure, trying to get more from him if that was even possible.
“P—please, Eds, need you to mark me, make me yours, all over again,” you moaned, craving him, feeling that tight coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter.
“A—ahh, shit—shit, sweet girl, when you talk like that you know you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, his own voice failing him when he was all lost in you.
“Need your cum, Eds, p—please, cum with me baby,” you begged, body frail beneath him, soft, mushy, and all ready.
“Shit, f—fuck, so fuckin’ tight when you cum, sweetheart, I don’t think I can—” His rambling got louder and louder, not caring if Steve could hear—hell Eddie wanted him to see this. See the way you were getting split open by Eddie, begging, while Steve fucked himself to the two of you, all so desperate, waiting for Eddie’s instructions.
A newfound desire found Eddie at the thought of both you and Steve being so submissive to him, letting him take all of the control. “Fuckin’ fuck! Jesus—mmpf,” he grunted.
Steve was desperate now—as much as he was ashamed of it, he had jerked off to the two of you so many times before, he knew from the noises, that the two of you were close.
And he was more than ready to finally see your pretty face and Eddie’s mouth hung open when both of you came, his fantasies coming true.
He fucked his fists harder, balls drawing up at the needy moans that slipped past your lips. “G—gonna fuck all of my load—fuck—into you, princess.” One final thrust rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim.
“Fuuuck, fuck fuck!” He yelled out, and that’s all it took, both of your eyes squeezed shut, melting into the couch, loud moans and groans filling the room while Steve watched with lulled eyes.
Your orgasm was quick to wash over your body, pussy convulsing around his cock deliciously, ropes of his warm cum spilling inside of you. All the while Steve squeezed his cock, spurting his cum all over his hand, white beads of his warm load covering his knuckles.
Heavy breathing filled the living room, and Steve’s room. His mind hazed, and eyes remained shut.
“Shitshitshit, take it, baby, take it all,” Eddie breathed out, his load sitting pretty inside of you, filling you nicely.
“Good girl,” he whispered, planting a nice kiss on your glossy lips, peppering your face with small ones, a wide grin sitting on his lips.
“Fuck,” Steve grunted out unintentionally, hand planting on his mouth with a loud smack, but it was too late.
Eddie’s head snapped backward, a grin sitting on his lips before his dangerous gaze met Steve’s dilated pupils, blown out by pleasure, and the anxiety in his system slicking his forehead.
“Did you enjoy that, Steve?” Eddie mocked from where he was standing, not moving an inch, eyeing the shocked look on his face, fully enjoying it.
Steve, at a loss for words, couldn’t even blabber a simple response. How the fuck was he going to explain this?
Eddie barked a mocking chuckle, pouting. “Your poor cock must be aching from those calloused hands, abusin’ it every night. You think we didn’t hear your pathetic groans every night? The walls are thin, Stevie,” he cooed, his tone so teasing that Steve gulped.
What the fuck was going to happen now?
Would Eddie beat him up for being a fucking pervert?
Would the two of you move out as soon as possible?
Endless possibilities ran through Steve’s mind, yet he couldn’t muster a single reply, cursing himself for even fucking doing this.
Yet, much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s reply was his wildest dreams and fantasies bundled up into a full sentence. “Oh, don’t be shy now, Stevie, come out, let us help you.” You hummed quietly agreeing with Eddie, too fucked out to say anything else, yet still up for more.
Without another word Steve got up, unashamedly walking into the living room with his junk out, hand still covered in his cum, Eddie’s gaze and grin were much more devilish up close, making Steve’s cock stir against the cold air hitting his tip.
You were quick to sit up on your knees, dragging Steve closer to you, hand gently holding up his semen-covered knuckle, giggling at the sight before your gaze met his.
The blood rushed to his cock in an instant, your doe-eyes still held that innocence, yet there was something filthy about it that had Steve wanting to melt into a puddle. You stuck out your tongue at him, mouth quick to wrap around his knuckles, lapping up his juices.
Your gaze stuck on him, and Steve’s thighs shuddered with need, eyes drinking you in while you wiped him clean and released his hand with a pop sound of your velvety lips.
A lewd noise escaped from Steve’s mouth, making him grow weak in his knees, still unable to find the words to speak. You were perfect. Just perfect.
“Stevie tastes so good, Eds,” you hummed sweetly, gaze never leaving Steve’s, and Eddie watched the two of you with newfound hunger.
“Do you want us to help you, Stevie?” You asked with a pout, plushy lips slickening with your candy gloss, and now with both Steve and Eddie’s juices. Steve nodded vigorously, head about to fall off his neck, gulping and almost groaning at you.
Steve wasn’t a morning person, until now.
#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson smut#steve harrington smut#steddie x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
🥰 anka and i are sharing a prion disease right now so we're rewatching the JJBA OVA. and okay. maybe it was the weed but i think it might be... i think it's my favourite thing ever made. that's ever existed. for all time. it's my favourite thing that exists. my favourite thing that Is. it really does makes me feel exactly like the ending of HEAT... LOL and i'm serious about this. it's like a stun gun or like being sandblasted where i'm shot outside of my body helpless to what's happening. horrible feeling and i love it very much.
and i feel soooooooo fucking VINDICATED because i dug deep into japanese forums + blogs and found people celebrating it ;__; there are discussions from this year (2024) even! people agree that it's gorgeous and that if you're going to watch (or even read) any version, it should be this one. that it rewards you on rewatches... which is true. every time i see it, i find something new, some extra bit of care that goes toward the structure of the mood. so many subtle movements in the acting, so much elegance to the balance of exposition in the dialogue. mainly in the japanese version, but it's not like it's lost in the english dub, just different. the voice actors did an amazing job with tone— notably there's this shaky tightness in Jotaro's voice during moments of fear/stress that enhances his expressions, actions.
i found people talking about the tension, acting, a wonderful review on the use of shifting, dynamic lighting throughout the OVA, the way the sound design— engineered by Skywalker Sound with score by a very young (~19) Marco D'Ambrosio— fills in SO MUCH for the animation with tasteful specificity in implying things like unique weight for footsteps, for Avdol's rings, or how the sound of Geb is like a strange layered scream. and fortunately found many people talking about being in awe of n'doul's humanity and how he has serious rizz lol and that he, in any version, is the only serious sobering moment of the glory gods... WAAAAH then i come on twitter or whatever and people are like "looks like shit, worst fight in the thing," and it's like jesus h. christ get a LIFE. i'm sorry you were tricked and lied to, but bad taste can be fixed if you just open your heart a little.
i do not feel moved whatsoever to watch the rest of the TV series (i made it up to the hunting episode of DIU.) something can be faithful and also a major downgrade, by intending to be as faithful as possible, misses the elements that make it what it is. besides, modern anime looks like real shit right now and i won't force myself through it solely because it exists. but i love this adaptation. i would rather see a beautiful interpretation that prioritises an effective, effecting mood, that tries to compromise with purpose and synthesise the source into what an animated version— the short film that this is— can do for it. what the form can heighten. there are little movements, upticks in speed or anxious stillness. the breathless timing and gravity of jotaro touching down and star platinum ripping right out of him like a major leaguer performing another major league hit. n'doul reacting to iggy, jumping slightly while kneeling. jotaro wiping off his fingers with a hanky and then rubbing them together. the entire scene with polnareff on the crates. oh GOD and the opening with the inverted sun... the cane... the cane scene cannot Not destroy you, be honest.
why did they include the red granite obelisk, notably from aswan, one of which was at one time commissioned by hadrian for his boyfriend antinous who drowned in the nile? that didn't have to be there, but isn't it beautiful? (and they put the eye hieroglyph right where we can see it... uuugh.) never mind the actual canonical content, with jotaro and n'doul mutually captivated, delighted, by each other's skill until the end. it's so painful knowing the inevitable outcome but it still somehow sneaks up on you with the way it's paced and i love to be rocked by it every time. the only guy ever to be spared on purpose— respecting him that much! and the respect is mutual! jesus, his monologue! he's the only one to be mourned. THE only one to be buried. by hand. alone. the fight begins under high noon sun and the burial completes at dusk. he's 17. fuck me.
i love when a story is never allowed to fully wrap up into the typical "and it was all worth it!" sort of vibe, which, in a way, is what happens, but it never rises to the point where... where that positivity matches the intensity of what was shown to you previously, or that those losses are meant to be forgotten in the wake of righteousness. and as far as i can recall, this is something araki has perfected over time. i'm thinking about the brutal bit in DIU with josuke carrying? dragging? okuyasu, and the particulars of kira's fate. but i'm REALLY thinking of VA, with giorno &co. in the office, and the epilogue. and then obviously SO. and then SBR. and JJL. this approach, the bittersweet heartache or outright mourning, has become a precise weapon and i can see the through-line from SDC. now that i've watched HEAT i can see why araki said that he cries every time he watches it. it's wrenching. and a big part of that is that you don't necessarily expect it because of genre or style flourishes, and that's really special. to be caught unawares, because you were already caught, you've been caught this whole time and now you have to take it.
i now know that yeah. yes. this is The definition of a special interest. because i have to, must, rotate this object in my head compulsively and purposefully so i can see every angle and crevice. i intuitively understand that i shouldn't be so bowled over and bitchy about it after so many years, sooo many years, but i can't help it! you like what you like and this is the benchmark. it pains me that it is so finite. that i've confusingly hung my heart on something that no one on earth could give one (1) solitary fuck about, and therefor there is an abrupt end to material. so i AM left rotating shapes in my head sussing out indentations in the form. kinda crazy. but fighting against it is maybe more punishing in a way.
this fight was chosen as the opening to the OVA because it's one where everyone is present. this fight was also going to be the entirety of the OVA, but araki liked it so much he requested more episodes 🥰💕
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heart of Steel - Part I
DBH Connor x Male Reader
Word Count: 2.5K+
Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language
Original game dialogue I got from this video:
https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg
We were attacked in the night.
After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.
"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"
"Here we go again."
"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.
"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.
"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"
"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.
"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.
"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"
One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.
"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"
"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"
It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.
"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"
"GRENADE!"
I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.
Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.
The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.
In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.
It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.
"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.
It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.
It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.
*****
"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.
"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"
"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"
"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.
"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.
"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.
"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.
"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.
"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.
"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.
"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."
"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."
"Dangerous?"
"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."
"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"
"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."
"I understand that, but-"
"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"
I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.
Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."
"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."
"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.
"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"
"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."
"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."
"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.
"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"
"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"
"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."
"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.
"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.
"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."
Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.
The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.
"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.
"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.
"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."
"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."
"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"
"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.
"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.
"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."
I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"
"How do you know that?"
"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"
"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."
"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.
"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."
"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."
"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."
"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."
They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.
"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.
"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.
"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.
"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.
"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.
"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.
"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."
"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"
"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."
"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."
"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."
"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.
"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."
#detroit become human#dbh#dbh connor#dbh rk800#dbh fanfic#dbh x reader#dbh x male reader#connor x male reader#connor rk800#male reader#m! reader#connor x m!reader
327 notes
·
View notes
Text
desperado / druglord!javier peña au.
chapter one.
summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics.
warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.
word count: 2.5k.
You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.
The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.
Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.
Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight.
"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice.
“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow.
You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.”
Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.
"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.
Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.
"When did you get the call?" you inquire.
He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.
You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"
Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities?
"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.
“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.”
Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.
“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”
(,,,)
Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later.
As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.
You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them.
You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.
“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.
You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.
"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.
"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"
You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.
"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."
(,,,)
The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away.
He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.
It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip.
You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.
You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place.
You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.
You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate.
And delicacy just won't do.
So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.
“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly.
“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.
His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.
You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice.
Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.
"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.
You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.
"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."
You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.
The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.
Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience.
Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside.
Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.
Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.
"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.
"⁹Sí." you mutter.
Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.
Bad news.
You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it.
You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment.
How naive of you.
A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie.
All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.
You sit in silence and wait for the worst.
#my work#javier peña#javier pena#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#javier peña imagine#javier pena imagine#javier peña one shot#javier pena one shot#pedro pascal smut#javier peña smut#javier pena smut#pedro balmaceda pascal
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
Behind the Screen - (Part 1)
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 5,412
Warnings: smut 18+
Author’s Note: First chapter guys, i had a lot of fun writing this, and i hope you all enjoy this first chapter. Smut is also not my forte, but i like to try new things so i hope i did it justice lol. If y’all would like to be added to the tag-list for future chapters, or taken off please send me a message! Feedback is always appreciated in anyway, so let me know what you think, let me know your thoughts what your expecting! Thank you for reading!
SERIES MASTERLIST
“Hey Wilson, you seen y/n?” Bucky questioned from his spot on the couch.
Sam shook his head, “Yeah earlier, she said she had something to do real quick before she was going to join us, shouldn’t be long.”
“Wasn’t that like 30 minutes ago?” Steve spoke up.
Sam shrugged his shoulder his eyes not leaving the TV screen, “I don’t know man, if y’all are so worried why don’t you send Tin Man to go find her.”
Bucky mulled it over before he was pushing up from the lounger, “where you going Buck?” Steve called out over his shoulder as Bucky retreated from the room.
Bucky didn’t bother with a reply, they all knew he was going to get you.
You were perched on your bed laptop in hand, your fingers working over your latest post the white glare from the computer illuminating your features. You couldn’t wait to get this new post out; your newest work had your readers begging for more, there just wasn’t enough time in your day to crunch out the words that bounced around in your mind. Recently your readers had begun to get antsy with you especially behind “anon”, there was many coming after you for not writing Bucky to the best of your ability. How did they expect you to give them your best work when you didn’t know how the man was in bed? It’s not like you could confront your teammate and ask him to help you write fanfiction about him and how he pleases women in bed.
I mean imagine the conversation,
“Hey Buck so you might not know this about me, but I write fanfiction,” awkward pause, “about you, and well do you think you could maybe guide me through it?”
You scoffed rolling your eyes at your inner dialogue, you stared at the blank white screen the cursor blinking at you, waiting. Your fingers hovered over the board, but your mind was drawing blanks, the words were there not even a minute ago, how did you lose them so quickly. You groaned pushing the laptop to the side, maybe it was time to go join the others, it had been a little over thirty minutes since you had told them you would return. Deciding you needed the break from the screen you pushed yourself from the bed making your way to your bathroom to freshen up.
Bucky walked the quiet hallways passing the other team's quarters before he finally came across yours. Bucky never bothered knocking, if he reached for the door handle and it wasn’t locked, he would just let himself in. Entering your room, he saw no sign of you except for your lone laptop that he had recently seen you glued to. He wasn’t sure what had you so entranced to the screen, but at the same time he understood it could possibly be a hobby that you were working on, especially during down time from missions or training. He looked around your quarters and noticed the sliver of light peeking from the bottom of your bathroom. Deciding to wait for you, he walked over to your bed plopping himself on the cushioned comforter. He reached for you laptop to see if he could get a peek at what had you glued to the device, and a peek he got. His cheeks were flamed rosy, his pants suddenly feeling a little tighter, while he wasn’t sure what to think, he was tickled pink at the words he read. So, this is what you did on your past time. He looked over the browser, his brows scrunched in confusion, what was Tumblr?
“Barnes what are you doing with my laptop?!”
Bucky looked up from the screen eyes blown wide matching yours, “Uh, I could ask you the same.” he murmured turning your screen to you.
Your heart dropped into the depths of your stomach, face going deathly pale, oh god, oh god, he knew, gathering your bearings you lurched forward lunging for the laptop in his hands. Bucky ducked out of your way falling back into your pillows laptop still clutched in his grip. You crawled half on top of him, “Goddamnit Barnes, give me my laptop back!” you growled.
He continued to dodge your attempts at grabbing your possession, “not until you explain what this is.” he grunted, his metal appendage pushing at your head.
“There is nothing to explain,” you hissed, “now give me the damn thing!”
You continued to claw your way up his body, though for every inch you climbed you were quickly scooted down by the cool metal pushing at your head.
“Nothing to explain?” he questioned, “I think there’s a lot to explain, like what the hell is Tumblr, and why are there people writing about me and some person named “y/n” he grunted “did you just bite my finger?” he questioned eyes glaring at you.
Your movements stalled, “Oh I'm sorry, I didn’t realize your vibranium hand had any feeling.” you deadpanned.
Your eyes caught the moment Bucky’s form began to fall, being a trained assassin had come in handy, taking your chance you lunged forward getting a grip on the laptop. Bucky grunted at the awkward position, “Jesus Christ,” he grunted, “what the fuck, ow!” he growled, “fucking hell y/n!” Bucky being stronger than you pulled the laptop from your measly grip flinging It to the side as he pushed you onto your bed, his frame covering yours, “would you stop fucking squirming, if it was nothing why are you putting up such a fight,” he grunted catching your swinging hands in his, pushing them down into the bed.
“I'm putting up a fight because you were going through my personal things, ever heard of the word privacy nosey ass” you hissed glaring at him.
Bucky rolled his eyes at you continuing to push your frame down into the bed, maybe you could use this as a future reference.
“Now that you’ve stopped squirming maybe we could actually have a conversation.” he murmured looking down at you.
Dread filled you again, “There’s nothing to talk about Bucky, at least nothing I want to talk about with you,” you groaned, “will you please just leave it alone.”
“I won’t leave it alone, I think I deserve an explanation,” he voiced, “you either tell me what I want to know or we can be like this all night.” he grunted applying more weight onto yours. Jesus, you could really use this as a reference but you weren't sure how to describe “Dead weight” would that even be considered sexy, you weren’t sure it would have your readers on the edge of their seats thighs clenched, cheeks rosy, giggling behind their phones, as they read your latest post.
“y/n, doll!” he muttered snapping his fingers in front of your dazed face.
You knew there was no getting out of this, there was definitely no denying what he had seen, possibly read. God what had you even written, how much had he seen. You knew this wasn’t going to end good, “what do you want to know?” you murmured, eyes not meeting his.
“what’s Tumblr?”
You sighed, you were really going to do this, you’re already in the rabbit hole, might as well keeping digging yourself further. “Tumblr is a blog site, users can post different types of media on it, they post videos, pictures, written posts - ”
“is that what you do?” he questioned cutting you off.
You groaned cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, “Yes buck, can you please get off me, please,” you murmured.
“who’s x reader, also who’s y/n, do I know them, because I don’t recall doing any of what i read with them.”
Your eyes slipped shut, oh god you couldn’t breathe, you prayed that a hole would open up beneath you and swallow you whole, “Barnes please get off me, I don’t want to do this!” you grunted trying to buck the man off you, you were on the verge of a panic attack.
“No, not until you explain it to me, then I'll get off,” he grunted applying more of his weight down onto you. This man was a damn wall of muscle, it was useless, there was no getting out of this, a growl left your lips, “Fuck okay, I’m not sure what you saw, but you more than likely saw my blog, and I write on my blog as I answered earlier,” you groaned, you didn’t want to say it, “I also,” a pause, another moan of embarrassment, “I also,” deep breath, “ I also write fanfiction about you,” oh god you cringed, this sounds much worse coming out of your mouth than it did when the words had been in your head. “the reader is anyone who also like me sits behind the screen of a computer reading the posts, and y/n is the reader, its abbreviated for your name, and no you didn’t do any of those things but it’s what writers like myself imagine you would do.” a sigh left your lips, eyes clenched undeniably tight, god you wanted this nightmare to be over, “can you please get off now.” you whispered feeling utterly ashamed.
You felt his hands leave yours, the weight and heat of his body a distant memory as he shifted off of you. Your eyes remained screwed shut, god you had really done it now, you should have never started the blog, what were you expecting. He was probably getting ready to go tell the others what you were up to, tell them everything he had seen, tell them about you embarrassing past time.
“Can you show me some more?”
Your eyes shot open, head turning to the side to see Bucky staring at you intently, your mouth parted slightly, “excuse me?” you choked out, he couldn’t be serious. “You can’t be serious,” you murmured.
“oh, I’m serious,” he murmured grabbing a hold of your laptop and pushing it towards you, “here.”
You glanced from him to the laptop, then back, “you’re actually serious?” you questioned brow raised.
“wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t,” he murmured sliding closer to you, “now come on, show me, I'm curious.”
You cautiously flipped onto your stomach, you weren’t sure he was ready for what exactly was out there, but he had asked, and if it kept the attention off of you, anything would be better.
Bucky was glued to the screen, his eyes roaming the vast words and posts written about him, your eyes stayed trained on him looking, watching, waiting for a reaction, there was none. He was stiff as stone.
“this is all wrong” he muttered turning to you, “i wouldn’t do this.”
You raised a brow at him, “its fanfiction Bucky, it’s not supposed to be real,” you explained, “the writers are doing just that, they’re writing they’re perspective of you, some of them are really talented.” You added.
“Well yeah I can see that, but still I wouldn’t do it like this, they didn’t capture me right I wouldn’t get straight into it like this.”
A laugh slipped past your lips, “Bucky the writers on the other side of the screen can only imagine these things about you, they won’t always get you down to a T, they can only imagine how you’d be, how they would want you to be.”
“so, then you do it,” he voiced perking up, “write me and this y/n character, there's no one that knows me better than you, well aside from Steve, I could guide you through it.”
Your eyes went wide slightly, “buck I don’t think that’s a good idea, I never wanted you to find out about this and now your offering to help me write, you can’t be serious.” you murmured.
“it could be fun,” he exclaimed, “who better to help write about me, than me.” he deadpanned.
You groaned your hands coming up to cover your face, “bucky you honestly don’t know what you’re saying, you shouldn’t even be this calm about all of this, for fucks sake you just found out I write about you and now you want me to let you help me write,” you paused, “about you, you sure your arm didn’t short circuit and mess with your head?”
Bucky chuckled deeply his hands reaching up to pull yours away from your face, “Look I'm not saying that I'm not freaked out by all of this, but if I can be honest its kind of flattering to know so many people write about me like this, not that I can understand why” he murmured, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing a more accurate description, and who better to give that to the readers than someone that can be guided by me?” he questioned.
“bucky,” you groaned.
“come on doll, indulge an old man,” he teased, “help me, to help you.”
You couldn’t really be thinking this would be a good idea, but then maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Bucky could guide you through some parts of your stories that just wouldn’t flow through your finger’s right, maybe the grouchy anons would back off, you bit your lip in thought.
Your groaned your body flailing a bit as you really mulled it over, “fine,” you muttered, “but the second you get all weird I’m kicking you out, understood?” you questioned.? t.”
He grinned at you his hands rubbing together, “deal.” You really were beginning to think his arm had short circuited.
“One more thing, you can’t tell the team about this at all, it’s weird enough you knowing, I don’t need the others knowing what I do.” You voiced.
It was quiet for a few seconds before Bucky was speaking up, “do they write about the others?”
“Bucky would you stop squirming, you’re not letting me think,” you muttered turning your head away from the screen to glare at him.
He stopped moving eyes going from yours back to the white screen, you sighed rubbing your temples, you were really beginning to regret ever agreeing to this. It had been about thirty minutes since Bucky had taken a look at your most recent post you were working on, you were currently trying to rub out a steamy oral scene between Bucky and the reader and let’s just say it wasn’t happening. If it wasn’t happening before the whole ordeal with Bucky, it surely wasn’t coming to you now. You had tried time and time again for the past thirty minutes to find the right words but between the squirming super solider next to you, and your mind replaying the events of this evening it just wasn’t going to happen.
“alright that’s it, I can’t do this,” you sighed reaching to shut the laptop.
Bucky reached out for your hand stopping your movements before you could shut it completely, your head turned towards his, brow raised, “you're not capturing the scene right doll, you’re not capturing the moment right.”
Your head tilted back slightly in disbelief, “well excuse me,” you muttered pulling your hand from his, “if you know so much, why don’t you write It?” you questioned sarcastically shoving the laptop in his direction.
He sighed, “I'm not the one that has a way with words doll, that’s you,” he pointed out, “besides I'm better with actions.” he added eyes twinkling.
“so, what are you implying buck, are you going to show me how you please a woman orally?” you questioned jokingly.
He perked up, “I could do that,” he agreed, “that way you could really get into the right mindset, you could really be in the moment.”
You choked on your saliva looking at Bucky in disbelief, “Barnes I was joking!” you coughed, “I wasn’t being serious.”
“oh come on now sweetheart,” he grinned, “you would be knocking out two birds with one stone.”
“look at you learning,” you deadpanned, “and the answer is no Buck, now stop before I make you leave.” you muttered.
He turned on his side facing you, sliding closer laptop forgotten, “I’m being serious y/n,” he started, “you could get real life inspiration for the next part of your post, and also get some pleasure from it, it’ll be a win win .”
“okay that’s it,” you muttered sitting up, “out buck, I don’t have time for these games.”
He sat up with you, “who said I'm playing games?” he questioned.
You looked up at your ceiling a sigh leaving your lips before you were meeting Bucky’s gaze again, “Bucky, seriously, stop, this isn’t funny.” you murmured shaking your head.
Bucky’s hand reached out taking yours In his, “who said this is a game?” he questioned staring at you in earnest.
“You can’t actually want to do this Buck, I get that you discovered my secret, what I do on my down time, but you don’t need to help me with this, we’re best friends Buck, this could make things weirder than it probably already is.” you muttered pulling your hand from his, eyes looking away.
“Us being best friends should make this that much easier, you can tell me when you’re feeling uncomfortable and I'll stop, this wouldn’t make things weird between us, besides you’d be helping me too, we’d be helping each other.” he said his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers hooked under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, stormy grey eyes staring back at you intently.
“Buck,” you sighed, your resolve was really failing you, you couldn’t lie to yourself by saying you didn’t want this, hell you had fantasized a moment like this for god knows how long, there’s only so much writers can offer you, but now that you were being given the opportunity to experience the real thing, were you really about to let this slip you by?
“this really isn’t a good idea Buck, it just doesn’t feel right,” you sighed body slouching.
He chuckled lowly, his body leaning in towards yours, breath fanning across your face, “it sounds like a great idea,” he murmured, “we’d both be getting something out of it, and that way, next time you write me giving our reader oral, you’ll know exactly what it feels like.”
You sucked in a breath at his words, your voice caught in your throat as he leaned even closer, his forehead pressing against yours, “come on doll, what do you say?” he questioned softly lips brushing against yours.
You nodded your head shakily, “okay,” you breathed.
Bucky surged forward his lips pressing against yours, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation of his lips gliding against your own. His flesh hand trailed its way up your body, around your neck where it tangled through your hair, his metal one finding its way onto your hip, squeezing.
Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, a breathy gasp falling from your lips. He seizes this opportunity to push his tongue in, he licks at you coaxing your tongue to dance with his. Your lungs burn from the intensity of the kiss, you pull away gasping for air, eyes dazed as you stare at Bucky his lips swollen and glistening in the dim light of your room.
Your hands reach out to touch him, fingers sliding up his torso, only to gravitate back down, his hands reach for yours stopping your movements before you can reach for the button of his jeans. He shakes his head a soft smile on his lips, “this isn’t about me sweetheart,” he murmurs leaning forward to nip at your lip, “this is about you,” he breaths.
The air around you is tense, your body thrumming with want. You don’t move though as Bucky’s eyes watch you, you wait with baited breath as Bucky’s hand untangles from your hair reaching down to get a grip on the hem of your shirt. He lifts up slowly, pulling the shirt off of you before tossing it off to the side. His eyes darken as he watches your ample breasts rise and fall. Your breath catches in your throat, you had never had a man look at you like this. The anticipation for what was to come next was building.
Unsuspecting, Bucky has you on your back in seconds, his frame hovering over yours, he leans down, his nose brushing against your chin, lips lowering till they’re meeting the skin of your neck. He kisses along the expanse of your neck drawing out breathy moans from your lips, a soft gasp follows when his teeth nip at your collarbone. You feel the coolness of his left hand trail up your stomach your body arching with it, it stops along the swell of your breast. His thumb reaches out sliding into the fabric of your bra, gliding over a now hardened nipple, the heat pools between your legs. A breathy moan falls from your lips at the sensation, Bucky chuckles lowly, warmth breath fanning across your dampened skin.
You whine as he pulls his hand from your breast, his hand trailing lower, you suck in a breath as his hand hovers over the top of your jeans, metal fingers popping open the button. His hand flattens against your body dipping into your jeans, fingers cupping you through your dampened underwear, a moan falls from your lips as he presses a single digit into your folds, wetting the fabric of your panties more.
“Mmm Buck,” you moan.
Bucky grins against your neck, his lips gliding up till they’re right by your ear, “I’m a giving person sweetheart,” he whispers, “i don’t just get right into the action, I like to play a little,” he husks, “i want to have you begging, I want to have you a moaning mess under me.” he breathes teeth nipping at your ear.
“Fuck,” you groan back arching off of the bed, Bucky presses his hand down harder against you stilling your hips. He pulls his face away from your neck his eyes holding yours, “keep your eyes on me.” He whispers, you swallow. You suck in a breath as his fingers push your panties to the side, his index finger finding it’s way into your dampened folds. The sensation alone has a breathy “Bucky” falling from your lips followed by a broken moan as his finger grazes your clit.
His fingers work over your clit your body writhing under his hand, broken desperate moans falling from your lips. A whine leaves your lips as Bucky tears his hand from your underwear, “Bucky please,” you moan.
He chuckles “patience sweetheart, let me make you feel good.” He whispers ducking down to press his lips to yours. Your lips chase his as they find their way back to your neck. He licks, sucks, and nips at your skin as he trails down your body. From your neck, down the valley of your breast till he’s reaching the top of your jeans. You watch him pull away from you leaning back on his feet as his hands reach down pulling on your jeans till your able to kick them off the rest of the way for him.
He’s slipping from the bed, his hands pulling on your thighs as he drags you down the edge of the bed. He sinks to his knee his head lowering, his warm breath fans across your mound, a shiver rolling through you. He doesn’t move, you begin to worry, maybe he had changed his mind, “Buck, we don’t have to- ” a loud moan breaks through your words, his mouth presses harshly against your cotton covered pussy, tongue pressing into you, the fabric rubbing against your aching clit.
“Jesus Buck,” you gasp body arching off of the bed.
He laughs lowly, tongue still running over your covered mound, he gazes up at you from between your legs, “ I told you sweetheart, patience.” You would definitely be adding this to your story you thought as another moan ripped through you Bucky’s head having moved from your aching core to nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
Your hands reach down to tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your sensitive thighs. His thumb presses into you, rubbing against your aching clit, the fabric of your panties dragging deliciously against it. Your feet dig into his back, your body writhing on the bed. He glances up at you from where he’s perched between your legs, his eyes darkening, “ you think you could cum like this, you think you could cum for me.” He questions his breath ghosting over you.
A breathy “yes” falls from your lips, your body is buzzing with the need for release the teasing too much. Bucky continues to nip and suck at your sensitive skin, thumb working faster against your clit. “Fuck,” you gasp , “please Bucky,” you plead, “please,” you beg. Your desperate for him, for the need of release. His thumb pushes into you harder, working over you faster, his lips latching onto you skin sucking. A chant of his name falls from your lips as your orgasm takes you by surprise, your head pushing back into the sheets your back arching off the bed, your fingers tightening in his hair.
Bucky barley gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s moving, his hands gripping the middle of your panties, ripping them down the middle.
“Bucky did you just -”
Your words fall short as he’s pressing against you again, his face presses in close, his tongue peeking out to press against your folds. His tongue dips in dragging across your entrance till he’s flicking up against your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it. Your chest heaves as breathy moans fall from your lips, your thighs clenching around his head from the pleasure surging through you. Bucky grips your thighs pushing them open, spreading you out for him, your back arches, breast pushing into the cooled air as his tongue flicks teasingly in and out of your soaked folds.
Your fingers grasp the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hold. His mouth works over you, taking you higher, he’s alternating between your clit and your dripping entrance. His tongue will drag over your clit before it’s dipping down to bury into your entrance his tongue fucking into you till your screaming his name.
“Bucky fuck,” you moan, “please,” you whine.
He continues to work you over, moans of pleasure falling from his lips, the vibrations leaving you quaking in his hold. Your fingers find their way into his hair, your eyes glancing down at him the sight alone leaving you a breathless mess. He glances up his ocean grey eyes connecting with yours, you weren’t sure it was possible but they seemingly darkened more as he pushed you closer to release. His arms wrap around your spread thighs pulling you into him more, his lips work faster, tongue gliding quicker as he works you over. A loud moan falls from your lips as he quickens the pace, his name falling from your lips in a silent prayer as your grind up against his mouth. A moan catches in your throat, his lips finding your clit as he sucks harshly, his tongue working over it with quick strokes. Your pussy clenches, body heaving as the intense pleasure washes over you. Bucky doesn’t stop as he works you through your orgasm his tongue continuously flicking over you, dipping into you to suck up your juices. Your vision goes white as you clench around him fingers pulling at his hair.
“Holy fuck,” you choke out thighs trembling as you wind down, Bucky chuckles as he moves up your body kissing up your sweat slicked skin. He looms over you eyes hooded with lust, a small smile on his glistening lips. Your hands come up wrapping themselves around the back of his neck pulling him down to you. Your lips press against his, a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue. You lean up slightly your arms moving from Bucky’s neck to his shoulders as you move him around till he’s flat on his back on your bed. You straddle him, his hands finding a spot on your waist as he squeezes you,
“I thought this was about you doll,” he husks grinning up at you.
You roll your hips over his slightly, leaning your body over his, “it was, but I’d like to return the favor,” you whispered lips ghosting over his, your tongue peeking out to run over his plush lips. Sliding yourself down his firm body you stop once your seated on his thick thighs. Running your hands down his torso, your fingers work at popping the buttons of his jeans open, helping him shimmy them off, your tongue running over your lips as his cock springs free. You scoot down the bed settling yourself between his spread legs, leaning down as you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. A low grunt falls from his lips as you take the base of his cock into your hands, your tongue swirling around the tip. You continue to work your mouth over him indulging in the sinful noises that drip from his lips. “Fuck y/n,” he grunts, “fuck you gotta stop if you want me to finish this the right way.”
You grin up at him, you lips spit slicked, “fuck doll, come here.” He whispers gripping your arms as he hauls you up. He kisses your roughly, his tongue running over yours before he’s flipping the two of you, your back meeting the cool sheets.
Pushing your thighs apart he settles between them, gripping his cock in hand he runs it through your folds teasingly before he’s pressing in, a slow delicious burn that’s rolls a shiver through your spine. Bucky leans down his forehead pressing down onto yours, breathing each other in as he rolls his hips into you. His cock drags in and out of you, at a slow toe curling pace. Your body writhes against him, your heels digging into his ass to press him to you closer, you need to feel him, you want to feel him.
Bucky changes the angle; unwrapping your legs, he hauls one over his shoulder the other gripped tightly in his hand as he spreads you out, the angle driving him impossibly deeper, a gasp catches on your throat, “fuck,” you moan, “fuck right there,” you gasp.
“Come on sweetheart, let me feel you, cum for me.” He grunts his thrust jarring you.
A few more hard thrusts and his thumb sweeping over your clit has you shouting out his name in a breathy moan. Your back arches, thighs trembling as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Bucky continues to push into you, dragging out your orgasm as his takes over, your name tumbling from his lips as he crashes into you.
Bucky slumps forward his face falling into your neck as he takes in a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he grunts, “that’s going to be a hell of a fic,” he murmurs pressing his lips to your skin.
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, right the fic, you think, that’s why this had happened, Bucky was helping you out, and help he did. Bucky rolls off to his side propping himself up on his elbow as he smiles down at you, your body lax against the sheets.
“When are you going to finish writing it?” He grins
“Not right now, m’ too tired, hopefully sometime in the morning” you murmured.
“So In these fics do like me and the reader cuddle?” He questions a teasing twinkle in his eye.
“I don’t know Barnes, it depends,” you reply, “are you a post sex cuddler?”
“for the right girl,” he grins opening his arms, “c’mere doll,” He murmurs wrapping you in his arms a sloppy wet kiss placed to your heated cheeks.
Your readers are in for a hell of a surprise,” he murmurs into your hair.
“That they are,” you whisper, “that they are.”
Part 2
Behind The Scenes Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog
#behind the scenes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au series#marvel au#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#au series
812 notes
·
View notes
Text
BBS Dialogue Prompts #113
BBS Dialogue Prompts & Sentence Starters: [8]
VANOSSGAMING
I didn't kill anyone.
I'm going to follow you, I trust you.
How did he die?
I'm always one step behind, the fuck is going on?
Oh, it's a showdown, somebody shoot.
No, he shot me!
There's not many left, oh shit, I better hurry up.
Wait, that doesn't count, right?
I'm nowhere near you.
We're walking through the front door.
What toy do you have?
Hey, we can still steal them, alright, they didn't say what condition they have to be in.
You're lucky I'm here.
I tried to smack the shit out of all these people.
I played hide-and-seek with him, basically.
Well, I trust you two, I'm not leaving you two guys.
Can we see how many people it can explode?
It sounded like someone got shot.
I'm going to follow.
Come here, come here, come here.
SILENTDROIDD
How do I get on the boat?
You guys killed my friend!
Are you guys going to apologize or what?
This is so hard to control.
I don't know how to fight.
These bikes are so fast.
Very funny, guys.
Damn, that Tesla looks nice.
If I get it, I get it.
Your car is possessed.
MOO
My heart beats going crazy.
I contributed nothing.
We're right behind you.
Where is that guy, oh, here he is.
What is he aiming at?
How about we play this by a door.
Guys, we gotta get out, we gotta get out!
I thought you closed that.
It all makes sense now.
We're in a helicopter, above you, trying to pick you up.
TERRORISER
Call your insurance and we'll go pick it up.
I answered it, don't worry.
Can't shoot from that side, can ya, huh?
I got one fella in my sights.
Then we're going to fail and do this all over again.
Let's kill our friend off another bridge.
Oh, tell me, tell me, you're not aroused.
Don't have to tell me twice.
I'm right behind him.
Where the fuck am I going?
H2ODELIRIOUS
I'm going to shoot you in the sky.
This is the only way to get into the castle.
I'm about to fuck you up.
Throw things at him.
I killed someone with a box!
I'm making enemies with a damn hacker.
I'm stuck on a damn mountain with nowhere to go.
Damn, this thing drives like a dream.
Stop throwing flares, man.
You'll never take us alive.
SMII7Y
That's illegal, you're not allowed to do that yet.
I hate these sounds.
Where are you?
Yes, because they have overpowered weapons.
Welcome to the anomaly.
Turn around! 360, 180, motherfucker.
Fuck it, I'm going to do what they did to me.
This shit happened to me, it's happening to others, fuck it.
Ah, I'm on fire!
No, you're going to die, just get out of there, Jesus Christ.
BASICALLYIDOWRK
I'm running over as fast as I can.
It's majestic.
Oh my God, I fucking hate you so much.
He needs a cigar.
I know, I jumped out of the way.
I need help, boys.
Heads up, I'm going to die, and I don't care.
I will this at you.
I hit him with it, and he didn't fucking die!
We're all dead, every single one of us is dead right now.
DAITHI DE NOGLA
Why do you have to ruin everything? You literally ruin everything!
It's not my fault he took forever to synchronize.
Our zoom classes are laggy.
We don't have a key!
She's wacking the shit out of us.
This is just a mess, boys.
Don't listen to him, he's just trying to be a good friend.
Yeah, and we're coming to get you.
This drawings beautiful.
Come on, I really made it through.
#banana bus squad#bbs#banana bus squad dialogue prompts#bbs prompts#vanossgaming#silentdroidd#moo snuckel#the terroriser#h2odelirious#smii7y#basicallyidowrk#daithi de nogla#text#words#prompts#sentence starters#rpf pompts#tw swearing
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Boy Talk || Jack & Brandon
When: May 2, 2021
Where: Jack’s apartment, Santa Monica, California
Featuring: Brandon Kelly (dialogue provided by Katie @itsbrandonkelly)
Triggers: Allusion to alcoholism
After firing off a You’d better be home. text to Jack, he realised that he really should have checked first to save him from waiting outside their apartment but that’s why there were so many saying about hindsight. Still, he knocked to let his presence be known instead of texting again, hoping he’d timed his visit well.
Jack was coincidentally home when they received Brandon's text. They got out of the shower when they saw the message. After texting him back with a 'bitch I might be', Jack unlocked their door as well as the entrance door to the apartment building. They followed up with a 'door's open' text and went to go find clothes to put on before Brandon came inside.
He huffed out in amusement at the first response he got and then knocked again at the second before letting himself in. “Who leaves their door open? This is the start to every horror film ever, then again just letting yourself into someone’s home is also how they start.” He called out, heading to the kitchen instead of looking for Jack. He figured they would have answered the door if they weren’t occupied with something else and so they’d join him when they were done. When he found glasses, he settled himself on the couch and shrugged off his jacket.
"I do when I know someone's coming over!" they yelled from behind their closed bedroom door. If someone had actually broken into their apartment for nefarious purposes, Jack was more than prepared to deal with the situation. Once they were presentable, they looked around until they found Brandon in the living room. "Comfy there?" they teased. "You know I love seeing you, but a little more of a heads up would've been nice. I could've still been in the shower. I could've been actively having sex!"
“Who’s supposed to be coming over? I can’t believe you were inviting people to chill and I wasn’t one of them?” Brandon had taken out his phone to sit on the couch with him and had even gotten as far as pouring them both a drink before Jack had come to meet him. “Yep. I made myself at home.” He gave Jack his best smile, even fluttering his eyelashes for good measure. “If you loved seeing me that much you would invite me over to do those things with you. Besides, it’s not much of a surprise visit if I tell you about it, is it?”
“You! I opened the door for you, silly!” Jack looked at the two glasses, then back to Brandon. “Oh shit, the wine that Nyle sent as a moving present! I forgot I had that.” They didn’t want to be rude and throw it out, and figured it would be good to have in case of guests, so they hid it. The fact that they managed to not drink any of it themself was a miracle. “Yeah, I’m not sure how Viv would feel about that... speaking of which. Fun update in my life. I’m kind of seeing someone? Still figuring out labels and whatnot.” Though there were rumors floating around the gossip sphere, Brandon was the first person they confirmed the rumor to.
“Then the door wouldn’t be open so it wouldn’t matter if you were showering or fucking, would it?” Jack’s comment had Brandon looking at the bottle again and picking up the glass closest to it. “Mine is alcoholic. I brought you some appley juice recommended by the best palate I know.” He patted the space beside him before his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You settled before you boned me? Disgusting. Unacceptable.” Despite his words, he started grinning. “I’m so happy for you, babe. That’s cute.”
“Brandon, stop making good points,” they huffed, sitting down on the couch next to Brandon. “Oh, thanks.” While Jack had never explicitly told Brandon why they quit drinking, it appeared that he had gotten the hint. “I’m sorry. It turns out I have a SIMP gene that was activated by me moving to Santa Monica. Who would’ve thunk it?” they joked, knowing damn well that they’ve simped over every person they’ve ever dated.
“I can’t help that I’m brilliant. Sorry buddy; you just gotta live with that I’m afraid.” He hummed quietly in amusement. Brandon simply offered them a smile at their thanks. They never joined in whenever B was drinking and he was nothing if not attentive. Sometimes, at least. “Literally no one because the simp gene has always been in you and always been active but I’ll keep that to myself if it really makes you feel better.”
"All my friends are hot and smart, but I'm just hot. Story of my life." Jack sighed, taking a sip of the juice that was so graciously provided to them. "Excuse me?!" Jack exclaimed overdramatically. "Are you calling me a simp? In the comfort of my own apartment?! I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment. I don't know how I'll go on!" They busted into laughter, unable to keep the act up.
“You’re hot and smart. What the fuck are you talking about? Be nice to my friend or I’ll kick your ass.” He reached his foot out to nudge Jack with, an amused smile on his face. “Plus, you’re also super hot, own it. And yes. I’m calling you a simp. You’re the themperor of simpington. Population... Uh, I don’t know how many people are in Santa Monica but that’s the population.”
“Brandon, I was a straight-C student in high school and have the common sense of a bag of potato chips. I know my strengths and weaknesses.” Jack knew they weren’t book smart and it didn’t bother them. “Excuse me, I am not Themperor Simpington. That title belongs to Sunwoo Seong. Have you met them? But they did skip town a while back... shit. I didn’t ask for this title. I need to find a new non-binary friend to bestow this title on. I just need more enby friends in general.”
“You don’t have the common sense of a bag of potato chips, Jesus Christ Jack.” Brandon laughed as he slapped Jack’s arm. “You’ve survived this long in this industry, babe. That’s not down to potato chip brain, even I nearly crashed out a couple of years in.” He raised an eyebrow, head tilted as he fixed them a look of disapproval. “You are Themperor Simpington. The queen has spoken. I met Sunwoo once and obviously offered to climb that tree but they left and Joonie was sad so I’m no longer a fan of tall, hot and dimpled. If it makes you feel any better, I’m a huge simp for my sweet boy.”
“Hey, I’m funny. Fuck you,” they retorted, chuckling. “I’ve been told that I’m charismatic, and that’s helped me out in the industry. I’m still not that famous though.” While Jack was relatively well-known in queer circles, heterosexual circles were a whole other ballpark. Being friends with Brandon and recently befriending Vanessa did help their social standing though. “Themperor Simpington my butt,” they grumbled. “Wait, when you say ‘my sweet boy,’ do you mean Minjoon or do you have another boo I should know about?”
“Bitch, I been trying to get you to for so long now. I was starting to think you needed glasses.” Bee broke into a laugh before he even finished his sentence, nudging Jack’s arm in his giggling. “Yeah, you have to have a look and you have to be charming to start work in this industry but to survive in it? You have to be smart. About that though, I know I keep promising you a space on my next project and it’s had a few.. speed bumps I guess? Not really speed bumps but personal delays? Either way, I know enough now to be able to tell you that Queen B’s.. that I’m releasing a trial perfume.. fragrance line. Five scents to start, each will have its own colour have theme shots with, each will have its own model to associate with and I want you, if you’re interested?” Their mumbling made Brandon grin, coughing as a terrible fake attempt at covering up the ‘Simp.’ he titled them with again. “Minjoon is my sweet boy. I don’t have another boo, not even a little bit but if you hear simp alarms going off whenever I like the instas of a very beautiful friend of mine then mind ya business.”
"Oh my god. Brandooooon!" Though Jack had quite a few friends with benefits in their days, whenever the thought of doing anything with Brandon crossed their mind, they thought about the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed seventeen-year-old they met all those years ago. Jack's eyes lit up when he started talking about his fragrance line project. "Oh hell yeah I'm interested. Just remember, my favorite colors are purple and pink." They winked at Brandon. Aside from one photoshoot in L.A. that they did after fashion weeks, their work schedule was dryer than a desert. Of course they wouldn't tell him that though. They didn't want to sound desperate. Jack would've taken this job even if they weren't in need of work. "B, you're gonna have to be a little more specific than that. I know you. You don't befriend ugly people."
The laugh that left him this time was more of a giggle and he scrunched his nose up, shaking his head. “I tease but honestly, you’re practically family. Did you know that my parents ask after you? They know as much about you as I do but.. Well, they’re embarrassing. Eh, mom’s okay. Dad’s embarrassing so you’ll probably never meet them but yeah.. They get told about the important people in my life and you’ve been in it longer than Joonie.” Brandon groaned, setting his glass down. “Can’t believe I’m being gross and emotional already. Moving on..” He said, a little louder. “Purple would be fantastic for you. It’s a very royal colour and I’m going to do the obvious and lean into that a little but silk, not velvet. Pink was going to have a sweet-candy-lace vibe to it but if you want pink I can give you pink.” Brandon rolled his eyes, despite the heat he could feel spreading up his neck. “I have a... friend called Kian and he’s... There hasn’t been a word invented yet for how beautiful he is and it’s ridiculous and gross because I don’t lose my mind over pretty boys but he’s.. He makes me blush, Jack. I don’t blush.”
"Brandooooooooon! Stop, you're gonna make me blush. I'd love to meet your parents. Parents love me. Well, actually, I just love milfs and dilfs," Jack cackled at their own dumb joke. "But in all seriousness, let me know when they come to town!" As much as they wanted to meet Mr. and Mrs. Kelly, they didn't want to go to the Kelly home to do so. Jack knew that they shared a home state with Brandon, and didn't want to reenter North Carolina at the risk of running into their family. "Ooh, purple and silk? Now you're speaking my language!" Jack wiggled their eyebrows when Brandon mentioned Kian by name. "A yes, the cute delivery boy. You've mentioned him before. We're Instagram mutuals!"
“Do it! Blush, you coward!” Brandon laughed, leaning against Jack’s arm to nudge them. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I have to say this but if you’re gonna fuck my parents, please don’t date them and wait until I’m out of the room if you’re going to flirt, I don’t need to see that. They really would love to meet you though, they’ve been waiting for permission to come to town.” Brandon grinned at Jack at their approval, giving a small nod. “I’ll get some things drawn up for you. I do have a few already as rough drafts but now I know you’re taking it, I can design something a little more tailored to you.” The warmth spreading across his cheeks and colouring his face a darker shade of pink only grew worse as Jack wiggled their brows at him. “Yeah.. Well.. He’s almost perfect. The only thing I’d change about him is his last name.” His reaction to himself was instant, throwing himself against the cushions to yell out a laugh. “And I keep saying dumb cheesy shit like that! I’m a bumbling mess around him. Like.. Like I start off all smooth and collected and then he smiles and I’m just.. fucking applying to be hired by hallmark. It’s.. It’s so cringe and gross and... I’m happy.”
"Brandon, I'll become your new step-parent and ground you, don't tempt me," Jack joked, cackling. "Well give it to them! Don't deprive me of your loving parents!" Jack didn't have loving parents of their own, so if Brandon's parents were anything like Brandon, Jack was going to latch to them like nobody's business. "Oh my goooooooooooood, that was so coooooorrrrnnnnnyyyyy! Damn, and you call me a simp! I'm not out here reciting poetry on main about my crush. And if you bring up the fact that we have keys to each others' apartments, mind your business." Jack knew they were simping hard over Vivian, but now it was Brandon's turn to be in the hot seat. "So have you considered, you know, talking to him?"
“Their ex girlfriend actually tried that once. Oh my god, it was kind of funny though. You’ll have to treat me better when our guests arrive and do as you’re told or I’ll have you cut off until you learn some damn respect.” He mimicked in a too high voice, rolling his eyes afterwards. “Like.. Honey, I’ve only just noticed you’re not the last guy they were dating and that’s only because you started pterodactyl screeching.” Despite his playful tone, Brandon could feel warmth spreading across his face. “Yeah, okay. I’ll.. I’ll invite them up to meet you.” Having made peace with the fact that he‘d made himself into a product, his parents were off limits when it came to the people in his life, knowing how fickle and superficial a lot of his relationships with people were. It was different with Jack though, Jack really was his friend. “Honestly, I’ve been an absolute mess. I pulled the whole ‘My friends call me B, you can call me any time.’ Thing on him when we met and now I just blush all the time and feel nauseous over butterflies.” He waved his hand quickly at Jack’s news, shaking his head. “NUH uh.. We are not going to just gloss over that? Oh my god? Keys? You’re entering domesticity. Like.. Me and Joonie levels of domesticity and my parents are the founders of the BranJoon wedding fan club. Like.. You’re getting into that territory..” There was a small pause before a smile spread across his face. “I’m happy for you, babe. Honestly. You deserve this.” He couldn’t help but sigh at the question, sinking into his seat a little with a pout on his features and a small shrug. “I’ve been so obvious about it. Short of getting a neon sign to carry around, I don’t know how much more obvious I could be and sometimes it feels like he’s being obvious back? Like.. It feels like it’s not just one sided? And then I start having a gay panic and do something dumb because he’s way out of my league which is a new thing for me. I do want to though. Should I?”
"Hold up, hold up. I said that as a joke. You're telling me that your parents are actually non-monogamous?! And you didn't tell me until now?! I came out as polyam like, 2-3 years ago! And now I'm in a monogamous set-up again. I missed my shot. I'm hurt." Jack put their hands over their chest and sniffled, but almost immediately returned to their usual cheerful demeanor. "I'm kidding, I'm not gonna become your step-daddy, or... I don't know what a gender-neutral equivalent would be besides 'parent,' and that doesn't roll of the tongue as well." This wasn't something they had to think about right away. It wasn't like they were going to wake up tomorrow with a child. "Ah yes, your infamous pick-up line." Jack's face turned pink when Brandon acknowledged the keys. "Okay, I actually do have an explanation! I initially gave her my spare key because I asked her to water my plants when I was away for Fashion Week. Granted, she didn't do a good job and managed to kill both plants, but that's an aside. But yeah, I just never asked for the spare key back." Jack gave Brandon a shoulder pat. They really didn't know Kian, so couldn't tell what the full situation was. "What I've learned from my many years of dating men is that men are dumb and sometimes you literally need to spell things out for them."
“As momma dearest says, monogamy is for the weak. Anyway, they were already in a relationship when you came out. Also? I don’t want to be hooking my parents up with my hotties?” Brandon pulled a face at Jack, nose scrunched up in disapproval. “To be fair though, you and Viv wouldn’t even be the first couple they’ve dated. You’d be the first I’d... somewhat approve of but..” He shrugged before laughing. “Oh my god. There are a couple.. Zaza or zeze instead of dada and mama but given the chance I’d mash up dad and mom and just refer to you as my dom to make everyone in the room uncomfortable.” He shook his head, laughing quietly. “I hate this so much, Jack please.” “I think it’s funny, definitely in my top 3 introductions.” He found himself sitting up straighter when he noticed the blush on Jack’s cheeks, a grin forming on his own features. “Oh my god. She killed your plants and you let her keep your key? Say it with me, babe. Simp. You’re cute though. I’m totally 100% on board with the two of you. She was one of my heroes.” When the conversation turned back to him, Brandon tilted his head as he weighed his options. “Not Kiki but... You’re right, I guess. He’s probably so used to everyone being in love with him that my flirting is just baseline niceties. Okay, yeah. I’ll.. I’ll tell him that I’m crazy about him. Or I’ll just text him that aggressive meme about wanting to hold hands.”
"Aaaaah, your parents are so cool! I wish my parents were cool like that. Mine are just homophobic." There was a lot more to Sofia and Tony Corleone than just that, but very few people knew about them. This was very much intentional. They made a face at 'zaza' and 'zeze.' "Yeah, not really digging those ones... Wait. Dom?!" Jack paused to laugh. "Fucking hell. Yes. That's definitely what my future kids are gonna call me." Jack never brought up the topic of kids to Vivian. They were still very early in their relationship and Jack was afraid they were too old to be a parent. It was still a nice thought though. "Yeah. I got back from Paris and she was having a bad day, so I ordered a pizza and we just... talked. Had a real heart-to-heart. I ended up staying the night, and we've basically had an open-door policy with each other ever since. And then the next day I went back into my apartment and found out about the plants." Jack grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly smacked Brandon's arm with it. "I know, I know! I'm a big sappy simpy mush. I'm a Cancer, I don't know what you expect from me." It took Jack a long time to accept their emotional side, but now they openly embraced it. "Or he might not know how to recognize flirting. I've met many people like that. Like the cute DJ at that bar where Minjoon used to work. Or Minjoon himself!”
“My parents have a big bank balance and even bigger hearts. That’s why I don’t approve of a lot of their partners but yeah.. As much as I give them shit for being lame, they’re the coolest. I mean, they’re the only reason I’m even.. y’know... Around.” Brandon let out an unattractive snort and sat forward to retrieve his glass, pouting when he realised it was empty but simply sat back instead of refilling it. “Please, I am begging you, think carefully as to why I’d find calling you my dom funny before you commit to that decision.” He pressed his lips together to fight his laugh before he let out a soft hum. “Do you think that’s where you’re headed with her? Is she someone you can see yourself having kids with?” He asked softly, his whole demeanour changing from playful now that they had ventured into serious topics. “You don’t have to say yes and you don’t have to have an answer right now. Things are still new with you both and y’know... Take it from the adopted, some people don’t want kids and some do.” He shrugged a little.
“Ew. You talked to each other over pizza because one of you had a bad day? That’s disgusting.” When hit with the pillow, Brandon grabbed it to tug it away from Jack so they couldn’t attack him again and he hugged it to his chest, propping his chin on it. “I live for that kind of domesticity.” He sighed wistfully. “You are a big simpy mush and I love that about you. It’s gross and honest and just very sweet. I’m really glad you have someone who makes you feel that way, babe.” Brandon rolled his eyes and gave the pillow a small squeeze. “Vito really doesn’t recognise flirting? The dude wants to be an actor! With a face like that a lot of his roles are probably going to have it. I wanted to ask if he wanted any help getting into it because he was good to Joonie when they worked together and I always appreciate people taking care of the babie but I also feel like I don’t know him well enough to just give him a shout about a job. Eh. Maybe I’ll get Joonie to text him about this perfume thing and actually see what skills he has. Joonbug doesn’t count for the whole flirting thing though, attraction isn’t really his thing.”
"I gotcha," Jack stated, nodding. They had a similar problem when they first started modeling. They loved to spoil their loved ones-- and still do-- and people often took advantage of their generosity. As Jack grew older, they learned how to weed out the moochers. Of course Brandon was never a moocher; he wasn't the type to take without giving, plus he had plenty of his own money. Jack watched for Brandon's reaction, then chuckled in response to his face. "Babe, I know. I was joking. Could you imagine?!" They shrugged at Brandon's question. "Honestly, I have no idea. I think it's too soon to talk about that kinda stuff. I thought I was never gonna become a parent because Sage didn't want kids, but, you know, they're not my fiancé anymore." Sage not wanting kids wasn't the main reason the engagement was broken off, but it was a bone of contention in the relationship.
"Oh hush. One day you'll have a heart-to-heart over pizza too. Well, maybe not because of the whole gluten thing, but some food that you enjoy." They stuck their tongue out at Brandon. "Ohh, that's his name! At least he didn't recognize me flirting with him. Could just be that he wasn't into me because he's straight, but I'm hot so that's dumb." Jack didn't want to have sex with straight dudes anyways, so they didn't consider it a major loss. "Attraction isn't his thing? Is he asexual or something?" they asked curiously. "Wait a minute, you're deflecting!"
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda
hello, everyone! i’ve been working on a fic titled “Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda” for quite a long while, and i’m finally biting the bullet and posting the first chapter. this fic is based on the novel "Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda" by Becky Albertalli! it will be very closely based on the book, as well as some things from the movie "Love, Simon", and you may find dialogue or details that you recognize from either version of Becky Albertalli's story! i have no rights to the novel/movie or the JATP characters depicted in this fic. that said, there are a lot of details that are changed, and you'll be able to spot those really easily. this fic will be crossposted to my AO3 and can be located HERE.
like i said, this fic has been a long time coming, and there is tons and tons i have planned for it. here on tumblr, i will be posting things like extra details, bonus content, and maybe some sneak previews! for now, let’s get into the fic!
SUMMARY: Alex Mercer is just like everyone else- only he has one huge ass secret. Nobody knows that he's gay, not even his closest friends and bandmates Luke, Reggie, and Julie. The only time he's ever mentioned it to someone, it was in an anonymous email chain with Ghost, another Los Feliz High School student. Alex can't risk coming out to anyone, but when his emails fall into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into a spotlight. Suddenly an already stressful junior year is all that more complicated as he juggles everyday drama, the school's annual band competition, blackmail, and trying not to lose his shot with the best guy he's ever met.
READ CHAPTER ONE BELOW THE CUT
Everything about this conversation is so out of the box of normal that I barely even register what's happening. Of course I'm the type of person who can't tell when this- something so crazy and awful and stressful and honest to God what the hell is happening- is going on. In my defense, Caleb Covington has never spoken to me before. I had no reason to assume that the first time he did, it would be to blackmail me.
We're taking a water break in the bleachers when Caleb saunters over. No greeting, no introduction- just words to send my entire junior year of high school spinning on its head.
"I read your email."
I swallow my water. "What?"
Caleb raises an eyebrow at me, and there's no other way to describe it but menacing. It's funny looking back on it all; I'd always heard Caleb was a really nice guy.
"I was in the library. And I read your email."
"You read my email?"
"Not on purpose. You really should have logged out of Gmail."
There's nothing I can do but stare at him, dumbfounded. What in the name of David Bowie is happening right now?
Caleb, thankfully, stops towering over me and takes a seat in the bleachers, a foot or so away. To anyone else, it might look like we're friends. To me, it feels like I can't breathe.
"Why the fake name?" Caleb asks, and my entire soul screams a wish that he would stop being so casual about this.
I want to tell him that the point of a fake name is to keep people like Caleb Covington from knowing my secret. Way to freaking go, Alex. He must have seen me sitting at the computer like the monumental dumbass I am.
"Would it interest you to know my cousin is gay?"
"Um. No, Caleb. It really wouldn't."
He still has his eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. If I focus hard enough- kind of impossible right now- I can picture Luke punching it right off his face.
"What do you want Caleb?"
This is the longest five minute water break of my life.
"Look, Mercer, I don't have a problem with it. It's not a big deal."
Yes, it really is. It's a huge monster of a deal. This is the biggest disaster since Luke slammed his fingers in a door and couldn't play his guitar.
"But. . ." Caleb drags out, and I can feel my leg bouncing quicker by the second. "It's pretty clear to me that you'd rather keep it all hush, hush."
I mean. Yeah. Kind of. The coming out thing doesn't scare me that much. Except it does. Because if people know then my parents will know and if my parents know then my whole family will know and if my whole family knows then I've become like a living, gay, everyone-finds-out version of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, and I'd rather die than have that happen. So maybe the coming out thing does scare me. But the biggest problem if people found out?
Ghost.
I have absolutely no idea what it would mean for Ghost if Caleb was going to tell anyone. The thing about Ghost is he's a pretty private person. I bet he wouldn't forget to log out of his email so people like Caleb Covington wouldn't see it. I bet there's a good chance he'll never forgive me if he finds out about this. So really, I have absolutely no freaking clue what would happen to Ghost- to us.
And I'm still sitting in these stupid gym bleachers, the pink hydroflask Reggie bought me limp in my hand, desperately wishing Carrie would call an end to this godforsaken water break. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with Caleb right now. Why couldn't anyone else have logged into Gmail after me? Why was I so impatient to see if Ghost had emailed me back that I used the freaking school computers? Why did this stupid school insist on blocking the wireless so I had had no choice but to use the school computers? But it had been one of those days where I couldn't even wait to get out of dance practice to check my phone in my car.
I'd emailed Ghost this morning, and it had been a pretty big email. I was desperate to know if he'd emailed back.
I must have been just staring at Caleb for a while because he cocked his head at me and said, "Don't worry, Mercer. I'm not going to show anyone."
I take a relieved breath. Then my hydroflask finally slips from my fingers as I freeze, and the sound echoes through the gym. I don't even look at the rest of the dancers when their laughs break out.
"Show anyone?" I ask.
Caleb leans in a little bit, smirk wider on his face. I feel sick.
"Did you- oh my god, did you screenshot my emails?"
"Yes, see, I wanted to talk to you about that."
"You took a fucking screenshot?" I hiss out, thankful I'd put my stuff farther away from the rest of the dance team today.
Caleb has the audacity to roll his eyes. "I've heard you're in a band with-"
"What the fuck does that have to do with- Let's go back to how you screenshot my email."
"Or you can shut up and listen to what I have to say."
Something about the way Caleb's gaze catches you, it's hard to do anything but what he says. Fuck.
"I believe we may be in a position to help each other out."
Jesus Christ, what 18 year old talks like this?
"Why the hell would I do anything for you?"
It's a stupid question, I realize as he stares at me calmly. Calmly. Like this isn't the end of my life. Whatever he wants right now, it'll be in exchange. I do this, and he doesn't broadcast my private emails with Ghost to the entire student body.
All this time and I really thought Caleb was supposed to be this nice guy. Fuck me.
"You're going to make me do whatever you want?"
Caleb tsk'd like the condescending bastard he clearly is. "Well, now. I'm not making you do anything."
"But if I don't help you, you'll what? Post my emails on the fucking tumblr?"
LosFelizSecrets. The bane of every Los Feliz student's existence. Ground zero for more gossip than anyone in their right mind knows what to do with. A school of almost 3,000 kids but if it's on the tumblr, most people know within a day. A complete and utter hellscape disguised as a blog.
When Caleb stays quiet, I speak again. "What do you want from me, Caleb?"
He sneers.
"Music of the Night."
Once again, I'm stuck staring at him. Music of the Night? That's what this is about?
"Your band is signed up, as is mine. The HGC lost to Dirty Candy last year, and I will not lose again this year."
Music of the Night is this competition Los Feliz holds every year as part of the music program. At the end of the year, there's this huge concert held at the Orpheum theatre in Hollywood. At the beginning of the school year, anyone can sign up. Then each band has 4 months to perform at school events, outside gigs and parties, and whenever they have an opportunity, really. During winter break, the student body votes on who the headliner of the concert will be. Last year, the headliner was Dirty Candy. Because they won last year, they're out of the running this year and are in charge of organization and things for the concert. This year, I was hoping the headliner would be Julie and the Phantoms. My band. Caleb and his band HGC has entered the competition every year, and he's never won. He's a senior, and I know this will be his last chance. I also know who his biggest competition is.
Us.
"So. . . what? You want me to sabotage my own band?"
I feel breathless and dizzy as I ask. Caleb just shrugs casually.
"Whatever you need to do. So long as it's my band that gets the votes. Like I said, I think we can help each other out. Think about it."
Caleb winks- he actually winks- and walks away. I stare dumbly after him. No way. No, I'm not doing this. I can live with being outed. Right?
But my thoughts travel to Ghost. Because he's a part of this, too. He goes to Los Feliz, and he's my age, and he uses a fake name, and he's not out.
Ghost isn't out, and Caleb has my emails.
Fuck.
----------
Any hope I have of forgetting about that stupid conversation clearly isn’t worth it. I have an hour before dinner, and right now I’m basically willing to do anything to avoid my family. Trying to talk to my parents is exhausting. You can’t just get away with telling them your day was good or bad. No, you have to ring out every excruciating little detail. Everything that happens in my or my siblings’ life, they want to know about it. In all honesty, I used to love telling them all that stuff. Now I can’t get away from them fast enough. Especially today. I’m barely in the house long enough to put my backpack in my room before I’m slipping out the back door and leaving again.
I try to drown out my thoughts with Axl Rose screaming into my earbuds. But my mind is stuck on Ghost, emails, and Caleb freaking Covington. Caleb wants to win Music of the Night. I can’t exactly blame him for that. Everyone wants to win it.
Except he’s blackmailing me. And by extension, he’s blackmailing Ghost. And that makes me want to hyperventilate a little bit. Maybe go scream somewhere.
But Axl Rose is helping. The familiar route of walking to Luke’s is helping. We don’t get much of a fall in LA, but the air feels a little crisper in mid October, and I can already see the houses that are getting ready for Halloween.
When I reach Luke’s house, I don’t even bother going through the front door. I just cut through his backyard and head through the backdoor right next to Luke’s bedroom. I hear them before I see them. Reggie’s laugh fills the air, paired with a frustrated groan from Luke. They’re sitting side by side on Luke’s bed, facing the small tv with some video game I’ve never seen on the screen. They look like they haven’t moved in hours. Luke pauses the game as soon as he sees me, waving, and I can’t help but smile a little bit. The guy won’t put down his guitar for you, but he’ll pause a video game or movie without a second thought.
“Great, you’re here! Tell Luke he’s shit at this game and he should let me play Mario Kart.”
I roll my eyes, “Dance was great, Reg. Thanks for asking.”
Reggie sticks out his tongue, and I crack a smile. This is the most comfortable I’ve felt all afternoon. I throw myself into the beat up bean bag chair Luke keeps in his room.
“Luke, you’re shit at this game and Reggie wants to play Mario Kart.”
Luke gapes at me, a betrayed gleam in his eyes, but I just shrug. Luke grumbles a bit as he gets up to switch out the game, and Reggie whoops in victory. I let out a soft sigh. I think I needed this. The chaos of Reggie and Luke playing whatever game, the strange mix of leather, Axe, and his mom’s Hawaiian Breeze cleaner that makes Luke’s room smell awful and entirely wonderful at the same time, and the familiarity of Luke and Reggie. Everything just fits right when I’m with them.
As Luke sets up the game, Reggie looks at me excitedly. “Alex, Luke hasn’t heard about le wedgie.”
I snort a little, “Ah, yes. Le wedgie. C’est une histoire touchante.”
I don’t know why Reggie bothered to wait for me to tell the story; he’s the far better storyteller between us. Maybe it’s just because I’m better at French.
Luke stares at me, “English, please?”
Reggie and I thought we’d be fancy and take something fun like French for our required language credits. Luke decided to take something actually useful and learn sign language. This story is stupid, and my reenactment is stupid, but it feels kind of perfect. Like Caleb and secrets are all things of my imagination, and nothing exists but this bedroom and me, Luke, and Reggie. Benefits of having known these dorks since elementary school, I guess.
About as they finish the second race in Mario Kart, Luke lets out a yawn. Reggie reacts so quickly I barely realize what he’s doing. He grabs a crumpled up Hershey’s Kiss wrapper from Luke’s nightstand and throws it into Luke’s mouth. Luke sees it just in time to clamp his mouth shut. Reggie sighs in defeat, but shrugs.
“Keep yawning, I’ll get you one of these times.”
“Why are you so tired?”
“Because I party real hard. All night, every night, baby,” Luke says, slamming Reggie’s bike with a green turtle shell.
“Alone in your room with your guitar. Some party that is,” Reggie retaliated with a bomb thrown in Luke’s direction.
As the race finishes Luke yawns again, and Reggie’s Kiss wrapper bounces off his cheek.
“I just keep having these weird dreams,” he explains.
I raise my eyebrows. “TMI, dude.”
“Not that kind of dream!” Luke tosses the wrappers at me, Reggie cackling beside him.
Luke starts explaining his dream- something about every time he started playing his guitar his cord had magically unplugged itself from his amp- and Reggie and I just share a look. We were used to Luke being in his weird, feels-the-need-to-analyze-everything moods. But even after all these years, it was almost like a movie, watching Luke get so weirdly passionate about things- music and otherwise. It made me glad that Luke was a brother to me by everything but blood. Partly because if he wasn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from falling for him. And I have a strict policy about not falling for straight guys.
To everyone but me and Reggie- immune to him after knowing pretty much every thought that’s ever gone through his head since elementary school- there’s this pull to Luke. Like he casts a spell that has everyone in a 10 mile radius tripping at his feet and each and every girl swooning. Poor Julie is not immune to the spell, it seems. Lucky for her though, Luke doesn’t seem immune to her either.
It took barely a few weeks into the school year before I noticed Luke switching seats with Willie Meyers at lunch to increase the odds he’d end up right next to Julie. Then there’s that stupid, puppy-dog, love-sick look in his eyes that Luke gets every time he thinks Julie isn’t looking. And it’s not like Reggie and I haven’t put up with a pining Luke before, but everything seems a little different with Julie. It makes me think of Ghost.
Would I look like that if I saw him in person? Would he look at me like that?
If Caleb leaks my emails and Ghost hates me forever, I don’t think I’ll ever find out.
-----------
chapter one complete!
i'll let everyone know right now that i have no clear updating schedule for this fic; it's kind of hard to write and get down the way i want, so i'm not sure how long anything will take me. but it is summer break for me, so hopefully you'll all start seeing consistent posting of new chapters!
i hope you all liked this first chapter, or are at least intrigued to read some more. as i said in the starting notes, this will be cross posted to my AO3! Feel free to leave me a comment here if you would like, or head over there if you have any comments about the fic at any point! feel free to send me a message/ask on here if you have any questions or comments, too! my inbox is open any time <3
if anyone would like me to start a tag list, let me know and i’ll get that done right away!
this fanfic is definitely my baby, so i really hope you guys all like it as much as i do!
thanks <3
#jatp#julie and the phantoms#jatp fanfic#fanfiction#alex mercer#willie jatp#luke patterson#reggie peters#julie molina#willex#simon vs the homo sapiens agenda#love simon#alternate universe#willex fic#owen patrick joyner#booboo stewart#alex vs the homo sapiens agenda#AvtHSA
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ten Favorite Dialogues from 2020
I picked 10 dialogue exchanges that I loved from the stories I posted this year. A few of them are from the same stories, since I spent a good chunk of the year working on long fics instead of one shots or shorter stories. Under the cut bc they are lengthy.
I also realized that most of my zingers tend to be in my descriptions and don’t always make it into my character’s dialogue. I might have to change that.
In no particular order:
1.
Dorian chuckled. “Honestly, you two are disgraceful. You can’t come to a club looking like sex on legs when you aren’t single. You’re going to give people a heart attack.”
“Jealous, Dorian?” Alistair needled.
“Insanely,” he replied smoothly. “Aside from myself and Zevran,”—he saluted the elf who shot him a saucy wink—“you’re the most attractive men here. And to add insult to injury, you’re together,” he sighed dramatically.
Accidental Alliance, a oneshot modern Cullistair AU
2.
“Step two of the pie liberation was to avoid suspicion of the adults.” Evan giggled at Connor’s phrasing and thought he heard Alex snort in amusement, too. “Zoe’s job was to act as a distraction, which wasn’t hard to accomplish because Cynthia decked her out in this frilly monstrosity that every woman within a five-mile radius oohed and aahed over. She fucking hated it, of course, but it worked in our favor for The Plan. And yes, those are honest to God capitals, babe. Think Mission Impossible: Thanksgiving 2010.”
“Alternate title: Pie Larceny,” Evan quipped, overjoyed by Connor’s rich laughter. Alex definitely chuckled at that.
“Yes! Oh my God, that’s amazing. I’m totally renaming it Pie Larceny.”
Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen
3.
“It makes me want to wrap you in blankets and bubble wrap and smother you with attention until you’re sick of looking at me, though.”
A broken laugh tumbled out of Evan’s mouth. “Well, there’s a mental picture. What are you gonna do? Roll me down the street?”
“I’m working out the logistics, but rolling you around does sound kinda fun,” Connor teased.
Snorting, Evan retorted, “I mean, you do have practice rolling joints. Guess a bundled up boyfriend isn’t much difference.”
Connor’s borderline hysterical laughter almost drowned out Evan’s airy chuckles. “Jesus Christ, Evan,” he wheezed, shakily wiping away tears.
Save Me From Myself - part 3 of my DEH series, Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen
4.
Returning his head to the shadows, he hissed, “Sister Agnes is milling around. I need a distraction so I can reach our room.”
Kai grinned and pulled a dehydrated pepper from his pocket. “Down the hatch.”
Gavin stopped him with a concern expression. “Are you sure about this?”
He snorted softly. “Please, I grew up eating these. My mum sends them because she knows I love them. They’re like candy. I’ll be shitting fire for a week, but they don’t hurt my mouth. I’ll burn hot and sweat like crazy though. Trust me, it’ll work.”
The redhead arched an eyebrow. “So you carry them in your pocket at all times?”
“No,” Kai answered irritably. “That’s why I needed Easton earlier. To act as a distraction for me so I could get it out of my room.”
Gavin sighed. “If you’re sure. I mean, we could brawl in the hallway, that would work, too.”
Alistair glanced around the corner. “Hurry up and choose. I’m not waiting forever.” Kai smirked and popped the pepper in his mouth.
“Well, that decides it,” Gavin groaned. Alistair tried not to laugh as over the course of a few minutes, Kai’s face visibly flushed in response to the spicy heat and sweat pooled under his hair, running in rivulets across his face.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like you’ve got the sweat,” Gavin replied sardonically.
“Perfect,” he retorted. “Right, good luck, Alistair. If I fail to distract everyone, Gavin’s got you covered.”
Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic - excerpt from Ch 11 featuring a few of my OCs and Alistair
5.
Wrapping his arms around her as she hummed at the stove, he said, “Sirra and Alistair either just left my apartment or she only now deigned to tell me they’re gone.”
Eowyn grinned wickedly at him, checking the clock on the dining room wall. “My, my! Four hours later! Scandalous.”
“I wish you could have seen them. The magnetism! It was instant.”
She giggled. “I saw the photos. That’s more of Alistair’s almost-O face than I ever want to see again, thanks very much.”
He snorted. “Fair enough.” After a pause, Zevran chuckled, “I give them a month.”
Rounding on him in horror, Eowyn stared at him with wide mossy eyes. “You just said they were perfect together! Do you think we made a mistake?”
“No, amore mio. I mean, I give them a month before they elope. I might have been party to their engagement shoot today.”
She blinked slowly as the giggles built until she was clutching the kitchen counter in a fit of uncontrolled mirth. “Okay, that may be accurate knowing Alistair!”
“I’m thinking of changing my business cards. Should I add ‘Matchmaker Extraordinaire’ or ‘Signor Soulmate’?” he asked cheekily.
Shot In The Dark - Sirra Brosca/Alistair modern AU oneshot [dialogue shown is between Zevran/OC]
6.
Cullen grinned with him. “Me either. Maybe we can improve your chess skills enough for you to graduate from mediocre.”
“Oh, ha ha. You and the others can have fun with that, thanks very much. Here I was hoping we could spend more time in bed,” he teased, sliding a hand into his curls.
Rolling his eyes playfully, the blonde retorted, “Of course, count on you to think how often we can sleep together instead of improving our skills.”
“That is how we improve our skills.”
“Training skills, you fiend.”
Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Alistair quipped, “Well, one of us has to be the boring one in the relationship. Glad it’s not me.” Cullen elbowed him gently in the ribs, chuckling along with his lover’s bright laughter.
Find Me Well Within Your Grace - young Cullistair prequel fic, excerpt from Ch 12
7.
“You’re not worthless,” Alistair whispered. The breath she’d been holding passed her lips with a tiny mewl of surprise. Still unable to look at one other, Alistair kept his hand on her wrist and she resisted the urge to scoot further away.
Sirra murmured, “You don’t know me, Alistair. You can’t say that.”
“I can,” he insisted firmly, his fingers pressing just a bit harder on her flesh. “It doesn’t matter who you were. When you join the Grey Wardens, all that matters is who you are. I may not know who you used to be in Orzammar, but I have a pretty good idea who you are in the sun.”
Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 4
8.
“I’m sorry, Alistair, I wanted to surprise you. Most dwarves in Orzammar, caste and casteless alike, have genital piercings. It’s cultural and unrelated to murder.”
His eyebrows climbed into his hair. “Even the men? How in the Maker’s name does that work?” Sirra opened her mouth to explain, but he hastily held up a hand and shivered. “Rhetorical question. Please do not answer that.”
Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 14
9.
“I love you, too,” she murmured, gracing him with a watery smile. “If I had known you were up here, I would have left Orzammar years ago and tracked you down,” Sirra mused, only half joking.
“Oh, really?” he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “I can just imagine you sneaking into the droll monastery and breaking me out. I would have assumed you were a figment of my imagination, a desire demon, or Maker-sent. Regardless, I doubt I could have resisted the mischievous glint in your eyes as you crept in to find me in my smalls, surrounded by thirty other recruits, and told me to run away with you.”
Laughing, Sirra raked her short nails down his toned chest. “A naked teenage version of you? I would have taken you on the spot, letting the recruits feast their eyes on us, before dashing out the front door with your bare ass in tow.”
He closed his eyes with a lusty moan, and swallowed hard, his voice strained when he replied. “Definitely Maker-sent then. To think, we could have been on the lam for the last few years, making mad love wherever we went.”
Sighing melodramatically, Alistair smirked and playfully bopped the tip of her nose with his. “Ah, well, at least I have you now and that’s all that matters.”
Sun Touched - excerpt from Ch 17
10.
“Stop it,” Morrigan mumbled irritably.
Alistair feigned innocence. “Stop what? I’m sitting here like a good patient. I wasn’t even talking until right now.”
Yellow eyes bored into hazel as the subtle light faded around them, his shoulder apparently healed. “You know very well what. Stop staring at my hands. ‘Tis most distracting.”
“And here I thought it was my hands distracting you during the fight,” he smirked. “Not where my eyes happened to land. How could you have known that I might have been paying attention, if you weren’t observing me, too, hmm?”
Scoffing, Morrigan took a large step back and crossed her arms haughtily over her chest. “You are insufferable.”
Sheathing his sword, Alistair shrugged with affected boredom. “I may be insufferable, Morrigan, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth.”
Snagging his shield from where it fell on the ground, he slung it over his back and murmured for her ears alone. “Besides, for a cranky witch who grew up in a swamp, they’re surprisingly soft and gentle… when they want to be, that is.”
You Give Me That Lovin’ Feelin’ - ch 2. Part 1 of 3 of Morristair written for @scharoux 14 Days of DA Lovers
#tag game#fave dialogues#my ocs#my writing#lostinfantasies38#Sun Touched#FMWWYG#find me well#14 days of DA lovers#deh#dear evan hansen#dragon age#cullistair#sirrastair#morristair#evan x connor
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
“It’s okay, you can cry” and “it’s alright, I’ve got you” dialogue for Johnny Coco Cruz please you’re wonderful and perfect
TW: marital/domestic physical abuse, cops, violence, racial slur (this thing kind of took a turn...)
Read with caution!
Chucky was waiting for Coco when he pulled up to the clubhouse. Coco knew the strange, wooden-handed man was waiting for him, because Chucky was doing that thing where he walked in a line with his hands clutched to his chest.
That was his ‘about to tell Johnny Coco Cruz some bad news’ walk.
“Your pet seems agitated,” Angel commented, getting off of his bike and putting his helmet on the handlebars, “You run out of his Kibbles ‘N Bits?”
“Hey, Chucky,” Coco said, approaching him with caution and ignoring Angel, “What’s going on, man? Everything okay?”
“There has been an unfortunate and unforeseen incident that you will find most unpleasant…” Chucky began.
“Jesus Christ,” Gilly grumbled, “speak English, man.”
“Y/N is here,” Chucky amended, “and she’s been… well…” He wrung his hands, the wood clicking together. “She’s waiting for you in the office.”
Coco patted Chucky on the shoulder, walking past him and heading towards the office. Things between the two of you were… strained, to say the least. Years ago, Coco had thought that the two of you would be together forever. He wasn’t quite sure if he believed in soulmates, but he knew for damn sure that he believed in you. You had been the only person he told about Letty before he want in, and you’d been the only one outside of the MC and his Mom who visited him in prison—and to be fair, his mother only visited to curse him out and demand money. Coco had been in love with you, but he’d been afraid of you, too. Afraid to be vulnerable, afraid that he’d never be enough for you, afraid that you deserved better than him… So when he got out, he ended things. It had been a difficult breakup, but you’d both agreed to stay friends, and as the years went by, Coco had convinced himself that he’d made the right choice. You married a local cop last year, and distanced yourself from Coco and the club. He was… happy for you. Glad that you had someone to provide for you and someone to love you since he couldn’t. Which was why he was surprised and confused to hear that you wanted to see him.
Coco knocked on the door to the office before opening it. “Y/N?” He asked, shutting it behind him. “You in here?” He heard a shuffling noise and watched as you came around the counter. His heart stopped.
You had a black eye and a cut lip. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, and Coco wondered if there were more bruises hidden under your clothes. “Hey.”
He ran over to you, both hands going to your face, hating that this was the first time he’d touched you in years. “Who did this to you?” He asked, voice low. His hands were shaking.
You took a breath. “My husband,” you answered, “He… I…” You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself. “Can we sit?”
Coco pulled over a chair for you, and he knelt in front of you, settled between your knees with one hand on your knee and the other on your swollen cheek. Your leg—the one Coco wasn’t touching—was bouncing like crazy. “It’s alright,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt, “I’ve got you. Tell me what happened, ruca.”
“He found the divorce papers I’ve been hiding,” you said, eyes hollow, “I’ve been trying to file for divorce in secret for the past five months. I’ve had to drive out of town to meet with a lawyer,” you looked up at Coco then, “he knows everyone here, there’s no one… I can’t…” You closed your eyes, and Coco knew you were trying to keep yourself from crying. You used to do that when you were upset back in the day. “…He’s never hit me before,” you explained, “He’s thrown things, pushed me around a little, but this is…” You reached out and grabbed Coco’s hand—you’d always been a tactile person, needing to touch and feel if you were emotional. He squeezed your hand, letting you know that he was there, he was with you. “I’m so afraid, Coco, all the time. I never know what’s going to set him off or what kind of mood he’s going to be in, and… I can’t live like this.”
“I understand,” he nodded, “You deserve better.”
“When he saw the papers, he just went crazy…” You blinked rapidly, biting at your fat lip. “I thought he was going to kill me. He said…” Your leg was bouncing again. “He said he was going to kill me. He said I belonged to him, and that no one else would ever want me. He said he knew every judge in the county and that I’d never get away from him. I—”
“—Hey,” Coco leaned forward, his dark eyes staring into your wet ones, “None of that’s true. Okay? He’s never gonna hurt you again, I promise.” Coco watched you nod, your eyes so sad. You were holding back, he could tell. “It’s okay, you can cry,” he encouraged softly, “You’re safe with me.”
That was all he needed to say. You broke down, and Coco stood up and wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. As he held you, he ran his hand up and down your back, letting you know that he was with you. He’d always he with you. And as you sobbed, shaking in his grasp, Coco felt his heart break, and then reform in fire. Cop or no cop—he was dead. Coco would make sure that he’d never hurt you or any other person again, because he was going to put him in the dirt—permanently.
Later, Coco tucked you into his bed, kissing you on the forehead. You were exhausted, and he pressed the ice pack to your face, covering your closed eye. “Get some rest,” he said, straightening up and looking down at you, “Chucky is right outside if you need anything.”
“Where are you going?” You asked. Coco didn’t answer. “Coco…”
“He’s not getting away with this,” Coco said back, shaking his head, “I can’t just walk away from this—from you.” He looked away, hating himself in that moment. “I never should have walked away in the first place.”
“Coco,” you sat up, holding the ice pack to your eye, “We both agreed on that; it wasn’t just you.”
“I was afraid,” he admitted, the shame clear in his voice, “And I pushed you away when I should have…” He shook his head. “I was a fucking coward. But this…” He reached out and put a hand on your chin, lifting your face so that he could see you better. “…This never should have happened. You’re safe now,” he promised, “The MC isn’t gonna let anything happen to you, but your husband? He has to pay.”
“He’s a cop, Coco,” you reminded him, “He has connections and allies and—”
“None of that shit is gonna protect him from me,” Coco said, kissing your forehead again, “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Coco sat on his bike, shrouded in darkness, across the street from your house. He watched, cigarette in his mouth and sniper eyes unblinking, as your husband pulled into the garage in his squad car—an obvious power move. He watched him go in the house, watched lights get turned on, and Coco wondered if he was looking for you, or if he even cared. His phone rang, and he answered it without looking. “Bueno?”
“Franky said he requested the next week off,” EZ reported, “Apparently he’s going on vacation. Convenient, right?”
“Good work, Prospect,” Coco stood up, one hand on his bike, “Meet me here with the kit in an hour.”
“The kit?”
“Shovel, bleach, ropes, garbage bags—c’mon man, the kit,” Coco listed off, “Have I taught you nothing?”
“Right, right,” he heard shuffling on the other end, “Okay, I’ll be there in an hour.”
Coco hung up, pocketing his phone, and walked to the front door. He didn’t want to catch him off guard—he wanted him to see his face, wanted him to know that Johnny Cruz had his life in his hands. He knocked hard, fist banging on the door, and he heard cursing on the other side of the door.
Your husband—the bastard—flung the door open. His eyes widened for a second before he smirked. “Coco Cruz,” he chuckled, “I should’ve known. Did she call you? Have you spirit her away to one of your club’s little whorehouses so she could hide?” He laughed. “She should know by now there’s no way she can hide from me.”
Coco punched him.
He fell back, knocking over a lamp and a side table on his way down.
Coco stepped into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He grabbed him by the collar and punched him over and over and over again, the image of your blackened eye and tears fresh in his mind. Your husband, the pussy, clawed at his face, but Coco didn’t let up. “You like hitting women, eh?” He asked, punching the other man straight in the nose. He felt the bone shift under his fist. “You like hurting her? Like making her feel scared and alone?” Coco plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and pressed the burning end to the man’s eye, making him howl in pain. “You feel like a fuckin’ man, pig? You feel powerful?”
The cop kicked Coco off of him, and Coco was pushed on his ass. Coco got up quickly, whipping out his gun and pointing it down at the weak, bleeding man cowering before him.
“I’m a cop!” He shouted, voice coming out gurgled from all the blood in his mouth. “You won’t get away with this, the entire force will be on your ass—they’re gonna crush your little bitch club! And she’s gonna come back to me! She’s mine!”
“Nah man,” Coco replied, “She ain’t coming back.” He cocked the gun. “And neither are you. Cops get killed all the time, guey. And you’re takin’ a vacation, it’ll be weeks before anyone knows you’re even gone.”
Coco watched his eyes go wide as he realized the severity of the situation. “You—I can just go away,” he stammered, “I can just pack a bag and leave.”
“Yeah?” Coco played along. “And what about Y/N? You gonna leave her alone?”
He nodded. “If that’s what she wants—”
“—You fucking busted her lip and gave her a black eye, no shit that’s what she wants,” Coco shot back, “She wants a divorce and for you to leave her alone.”
“I will,” he promised, “She can stay with the MC or come back here, I know she’s still in town—”
“She is,” Coco confirmed, “she’s in my bed right now.” He watched the other man’s eye (the one not burnt to hell) widen, and he almost laughed. Almost. He took a few steps closer until he was standing right over him, and Coco pressed the gun into the man’s forehead. “I was thinking of making you sign the divorce papers before I kill you,” he said coolly, “But now I realize that would just make her a suspect. Instead, I’m gonna make her a poor widow with the added benefit of your pension and life insurance payout. Your fucking brothers in blue are gonna trip over themselves makin’ sure she’s taken care of and safe, and the MC is gonna guarantee no one bothers her.” His eyes narrowed as he glared at the other man, disgust and hatred filling his heart. “And the day before your funeral,” he went on, “while everyone is preparing to dress up and kiss your dead ass, a report is gonna come out about you bein’ dirty—with receipts and all—and your good name is gonna die with you.” Coco promised him. “The MC has connections, too.”
“You’re gonna do all this for her? You think she’s worth it? You think it’s gonna make her come back to you? She’s mine,” he leaned forward, heedless of the gun to his temple, “And no dirty ‘Spic biker with a record is gonna take her from me—”
Coco shot then, letting the warm blood wash over him. He watched your husband’s body fall to the floor, watched the blood seep into the carpet. He sat on the couch, blood still on his face, and waited for EZ. While he waited, he memorized parts of the house, seeing bits of you in small details in the décor. He also noticed the bruises on your husband’s knuckles.
Coco didn’t say much when EZ came, just helped the Prospect gather up the body and clean up the scene. They hid the body in the desert in a construction site. That had been EZ’s idea, the site was owned by one of Galindo’s main competitors, and they’d take a huge hit when a cop’s body was discovered on their property, while Galindo (and Emily) would reap the benefits.
Later that night, Coco laid in bed with you in his arms, assuring you that everything would be alright. He felt the same fears from years ago creep up into him—that he wasn’t good enough, that he wouldn’t be able to provide for you, that he couldn’t love you the way you deserved—but this time, when he felt those fears swirling up inside of him, he looked down at your face, and knew that there was no where else he’d rather be.
Your relationship was slow, you had to put on airs of being a concerned wife after your husband’s vacation was over; filing a missing persons report and making a public plea for information, and Coco had to pretend to just be a curious citizen. Once the body was discovered, though, and you were cleared of any wrongdoing by some very sympathetic cops, you were able to be seen in public together—as friends. Coco wasn’t crazy about that arrangement, but he still got to be with you at the MC, and at night, so he reminded himself to be patient. Once the leaked receipts were released, however, and the whole of Santa Padre saw that your husband had been dirty, well… People were more than glad to see you out and about with Coco—because even though he was a criminal, he was an honest one. Even the cops would give tight lipped nods to the two of you when they saw you out together, and Coco fucking loved that.
Of course—he loved you more.
As time went on, and Coco became more and more secure in his relationship with you, women started showing up at the MC. Sometimes they’d come for a place to hide out on their way out of town, others, they came asking for help or protection from an abusive spouse, but every time—no matter the circumstances, the MC helped. You would stay with the women and kids, giving them words of encouragement and using your newly earned law degree to make sure they were protected and supported by the law, while Coco and the guys… dealt with the husbands. Very rarely did they actually have to resort to violence—most of the times they just had to intimidate him, and that would be enough—but Bishop did allow Coco to leave a calling card, of sorts, to let everyone out there know that the MC was watching, and would happily intervene when it came to issues like this, a thing that the community saw, recognized, and understood quickly. If a woman suddenly divorced her husband or broke up with her boyfriend, people in the community didn’t have to ask what happened. If they were curious, all they had to do was look at the man in that woman’s life…
…if he had a cigarette burn on his face, then they knew he’s gotten what he deserved, and more importantly—
—so did she.
*******************************************************************************************
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think of this one, cause I kind of went off on a tangent here.... Also--do you guys think I should link these longer “drabbles” to my character masterlist or nah?
Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @teacuplotus @whovianayesha @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out
339 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dialogue Prompts Based on Parts of the Body
I was saving these for when I had to leave for a week but it looks like we’ll all be quarantined for a while so I figured now would be a good time to post these. Especially since my sleep schedule is all messed up (Not your fault, corn anon! This one’s on me.) so I don’t know when I’ll be awake or asleep. I just wanna have something out.
Head
1) "I keep seeing things and it's getting harder for me to tell what's real anymore."
2) "Shit, your head's bleeding. No, hey, keep your eyes open for me. Don't go to sleep."
3) "I think they're seeing someone behind my back, but maybe it's all in my head."
4) "I can't remember who I am or how I got here. Do I know you?"
5) "My head feels like it's splitting right down the middle."
6) "I can't think, my head hurts so bad, everything is so loud. Can you just make it stop, make all the noise stop!"
7) "You can see them, can't you? No one else can see them and I thought I was going crazy but you can see them, can't you? You can!"
8) "What do you mean the crash might cause them to be different? Are you saying they wont be able to walk or something?" "I'm saying they might not remember some things."
9) "I think I remembered something that happened to me a long time ago."
10) "I can't remember how I got here but I'm covered in blood. I'm covered in blood and I don't know whose it is or what I did. And I think if something doesn't happen soon it's going to happen again."
Neck
1) "It would be so easy to snap your neck like this."
2) "I can feel your heart beating against my hand and all I want to is rip your throat out."
3) "Oh my god, is that a hickey? Ew, what's their name? Tell me everything!"
4) "The fuck is that on your neck, is that a hickey? How can you have a hickey if I've been gone for weeks?"
5) "I think I have a crick in my neck, I don't know how much couch hopping I can do." "You can always go back to Person A." "I'd rather have the pain in my neck."
6) "You have bruises on your neck, you keep telling everyone they're hickeys but I can see it, the pattern, they're finger prints. Who's doing this to you?"
7) "What are you do with your hand around my neck? You going to kill me, just like you did them? Huh? Cause if you're going to kill me get it over with already."
8) "Fuck, you sound so good when I kiss your neck like that."
9) "Jesus Christ, what's with the huge bandage on your neck, you get bit or something?"
10) "Choke me." "What?!" "Just choke me a little, I'll tell you when to stop. Come on, you choke me and I'll do that thing you like later."
Shoulders
1) "I hate him, he's always putting his hands on my shoulders."
2) "Come here, baby, let me rub your shoulders and help you relax."
3) "Fuck, hold onto my shoulders and spread your legs a little more for me."
4) "You keep digging your nails into my shoulder."
5) "They're always sitting beside you, putting their head on your shoulder, you must think about them too, don't you?"
6) "You got shot." "In the shoulder, barely even feel it."
7) "Your bed's killing my shoulder, you need a new mattress." "Well, you're the one with money, why don't you buy me a new one? Or maybe next time we meet it can be at a hotel." "My husband/wife would kill me."
8) "I didn't want you to leave me here! I didn't want that at all. I wanted you to put your arm around my shoulder and tell me it was going to get better even if it wasn't! I wanted you to be there for me!"
9) "Head held high, shoulders back. Wonderful, you all look lovely, make me proud out there."
10) "My shoulder hurts from carrying these bags." "I know, mine do too. But we're almost there. Just a little further and we'll be home."
Heart
1) "Lay them back, we need to restart the heart."
2) "My heart hurts when I look at them together."
3) "Your heart is beating so fast, are you scared of me?"
4) "I don't hear a heartbeat. I don't hear anything."
5) "This is your heartbeat, and this is your baby's hear--oh. My apologies, the sound of both of your babies heartbeats." "Twins?!"
6) "Don't trust them, they know just how to wrap their manicured nails around your heart and rip it from your chest."
7) "Something's wrong." "Your clutching your heart, are you okay?" "It's not me, I'm linked with Person B, it's them. I can feel them. Something's wrong."
8) "I heard your heart stop when they entered the room, do you know them?" "No." "Liar."
9) "Say a single word and I'll put a bullet in your partner's heart. And you know they aren't wearing a vest right now."
10) "Help! Help!" "What's wrong?" "I think they're having a heart attack!"
Ribs
1) "Oh my god, you're ticklish! Wow, who knew someone so tough could be taken down by just a little bit of tickling."
2) "The car hit them hard, they could have some broken ribs, possible internal bleeding, we need to get them to the hospital now!"
3) "I can't be here, I need to find Person A." "Easy, tiger, one of your ribs punctured your lung, you're not going anywhere for a while. We'll find them."
4) "Make a sound and I'll put my hand through their rib cage and eat their heart in front of you."
5) "Break open the ribs." "What? Break them open?" "Yeah, how else are you going to harvest the organs?"
6) "I heard tattoos on the ribs hurt the most." "Yeah, they can be painful, are you sure you want it there?" "I'm sure."
7) "Do you think human ribs taste as good as regular ribs?" "Stop being so fucking morbid, Person B."
8) "Stabbing someone can be hard, what you wanna do is aim under the ribs for the heart, then they'll bleed out pretty quick." "Thanks, mom/dad!"
9) "Am I dead?" "No, you're alive. You got your ass handed to you by a group of twelve year olds. They managed to break eight of your ribs just by kicking you."
10) "If you're going to be annoying I can always have my monster crush your rib cage. But if you're good I'll let you call your family."
Stomach
1) "Look at you, you're getting bigger and bigger every day. Soon we'll get to meet our baby."
2) "Hi, I'm Doctor [Insert name here.] We finished your surgery. We're going to try everything to keep you from scarring, but you'll most likely still have a scar on your stomach."
3) "Your stomach keeps rumbling, you need to eat before you pass out again."
4) "Doctor, can you please tell me why my stomach keeps hurting?" "You have a parasite, the only weird thing is it's definitely not from this earth."
5) "Your stomach is so soft." "Gee, thanks." "My soft marshmallow girl/boy. So comfy, so soft. I love you so much."
6) "I don't know if I can watch this. I don't think I can stomach it." "Watch or I'll hurt them even more."
7) "I don't think my stomach can take much more of this ride."
8) "You might not want to drink blood, but you need to. It's the only thing your stomach can handle."
9) "Here, drink this, it'll settle your stomach so you wont be sick again."
10) "Dude, your stomach just growled and sounded like 'Help me. I'm hungry, help me!'" "Shut up!"
Arms
1) "Oh wow, your arms are so big, do you work out?"
2) "Fuck, my arm is broken, my arm is fucking broken." "What'd you do?" "I jumped off the roof." "WHY WOULD YOU JUM-" "I wanted to see if I could make it into the pool!"
3) "I've got their arms behind their back, they're not going anywhere."
4) "Person B?" "Yeah?" "I can't feel my arms...I-I can't feel anything."
5) "My arms are killing me." "Hey, finish digging this hole, we've got a couple of guys coming to dump a body so we gotta be quick." "This is so boring though." "Do you want five hundred dollars or not?" "...yeah."
6) "My arm feels like I got hit like super hard. Like, by a superhero or something." "Oh my god you've been shot!"
7) "That cut on your arm is deep, if we don't clean it you could get an infection." "I'm glad you're okay." "I'll be even better when you're patched up."
8) "Hold my arms behind my back with one hand and pull my hair with the other." "You're into that?" "Just do it already!"
9) "Hold their arm out, I've been waiting too long to taste their blood I'm not waiting any longer."
10) "Relax, I'm just putting an IV in your arm." "Is Person B-" "They're fine. You saved them."
Hands
1) "Next time you put your hands on my boy/girl I'll break them."
2) "Your hands feel good in my hair like that."
3) "Do we have a deal? You stay in your territory I stay in mine and we inform one another when we need to cross into each other's territory?" "And if any strays walk in without permission?" "Both sides are allowed to kill any strays." "We have a deal? Shake hands on it?"
4) "Your hands are so cold, here, put them in mine and I'll warm them up."
5) "Your hands are all cut up." "They didn't like it when they found out I was trying to steal from them."
6) "You know, now that your handcuffed and I can finally see you up close you're pretty cute." "Bite me."
7) "Hands in the air!" "Shit, I-I was just looking at the car!" "Hands in the air! Now wave them like you just don't care!" "Huh? I--Person B? You piece of shit, I thought you were a cop!" "Nah, there's no one around now hurry up and break in. I've never stole a Mercedes before!"
8) "Hold out your hands, I've got something for you."
9) "Give me your hands, now close your eyes and repeat exactly what I say or the spell wont work."
10) "Put your hands on me again like that and I'll fucking kill you." "You used to like it when I put my hands on you." "Yeah, well, not anymore."
Hips
1) "I didn't give you those so who did? Who gave you those bite marks on your hips?"
2) "Jesus, look at you, move too hard and you'll break a hip." "I'm not fucking old!"
3) "Are you okay?" "I just hit my hip on the edge of that table so fucking hard, holy shit."
4) "Don't bump me with your hip, you bitch, I'll kill you!"
5) "Grab me by my hips and pull me closer." "Really? This is happening?" "Oh my god, I have to do everything."
6) "I think you should get a tattoo of my name on your hip." "So we can break up and things be weird and then I have to fork out money to get it removed? No way."
7) "You've got bruises everywhere, shoulder, wrist, hips-" "They just get a little rough when we're in bed, that's all. It's nothing." "They're in the shape of hand prints. That's not nothing."
8) "Come on, harder, put your hips into it!"
9) "Don't laugh but I fell really really hard and I actually think I broke my hip." "Oh my god, you're young, why do you have the hips of an ninety-seven year old woman?" "Just fucking help me!"
10) "God, they did it so hard one night I swear I thought they were gonna break my hips."
Thighs
1) "Your thighs are so fucking soft. It's cute."
2) "Talk shit and I'll use my thighs to crush you like a watermelon."
3) "Keep your thighs spread open. Yeah, just like that, baby."
4) "I think I pulled a muscle in my thigh." "Doing what? You don't even exercise? How did you pull anything?"
5) "You should see what they do when you're not around you girlfriend/boyfriend. They get super touchy. They're always putting their hands on Person A's thighs."
6) "Fuck, I can't go swimming this weekend, look at my thighs. You left so many bruises." "You weren't complaining at the time." "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
7) "Your thighs are fucking thick. In a good way, it's hot. I like it." "Just shut the fuck up and kiss me, dumbass."
8) "I know it feels good, baby but if you don't stop closing your thighs I'll have to hold them open."
9) "I love watching you sit on my lap. Especially when you put my hand between your thighs when you get needy."
10) "Fuck, you been working out? You've got really nice thighs." "Uhh...thanks?"
Legs
1) "If you're not between my legs in the next thirty seconds I swear I'm calling someone else to come here and do it for me."
2) "Been busy?" "No." "That's not what the bruises on your knees are saying."
3) "My leg, I think it's broken." "Help them up." "No, go on without me." "No." "I'll only slow you down. Go before they catch up to us!"
4) "I need a hand over here." "How about a leg?" "If you throw your prosthetic leg at me one more time I'm gonna come over there and beat you with it." "...fine, never mind, do it yourself."
5) "Break my chair and I'll break your legs!"
6) "You've got to stop wearing tight jeans like this, they're so hard to get off your legs." "Yeah, but you like how I look in them."
7) "I can't move, my leg's broken." "I'm coming back." "No! No, just stay there, I'm gonna talk you through how to do it, okay?" "Okay." "Find the control panel."
8) "We have to stop moving." "We can't, the second we stop is the second they catch us." "My legs are so tired, I don't think I can keep running." "Listen to me, you wanna see everyone right? Right. So keep moving or we wont ever see them again. We just have to make it to the border."
9) "Legs apart, hands on the vehicle." "If you wanted to feel me up, officer, you could have just said so." "Shut up and put your hands behind your back."
10) "Don't put your hand between my legs in public." "I didn't hear you complaining earlier." "Shut up."
Feet
1) "Jesus! Your feet are all bloody, what did you do? Walk on glass?"
2) "These heels are killing my feet." "I don't care, I'm not calling off the biggest job of our career because your feet are tired. The richest people in the world are here and I plan on taking every dime from them tonight. So you can suck it up and go flirt with that guy over there, you look like his type." "Fuck you." "Make me proud, baby."
3) "Ow! What the fuck, you shot me in the foot!" "I thought they were blanks!" "THEY CLEARLY WEREN'T!"
4) "Damn, look at this footprint. Whoever the murderer is they've got some big ass feet." "Those aren't the murderer's footprints, those are mine." "Oh shit!"
5) "I don't get this whole Cinderella thing, like, she clearly couldn't have been the only person in the whole kingdom with that size foot. Also, like, the people checking everyone's feet were there! They know what Cinderella looks like, how did they not just narrow their search to blonde hair and blue eyes? These royal people have foot fetishes and just wanted to look at everyone's feet. That's the only thing that makes sense unless everyone just has shitty vision."
6) "Toe socks are just gloves for your feet and I don't fuck with that."
7) "Why are you two covering your feet? You two get matching tattoos? Because if you handcuffed your feet together again I'm going to be very, very upset."
8) "What are you doing?" "I'm crushing grapes to make wine. You should try it. It kind of feels like I'm crushing little tiny people so I can squish the blood out of them and drink it." "Dark! But I'm glad you're having fun!"
9) "You know that song that goes 'And I would walk five hundred miles!' The people who wrote that have never walked five hundred miles in their fucking life because if they had they would not have wrote a song about doing that for someone because no one would do that! I wouldn't even walk fifty miles for someone. My feet are killing me!"
10) "If you don't tell me where the money is I'm going to hang you up by your feet and dunk you in a pit of sharks. And if you think I'm joking... PERSON B OPEN THE TANK!"
Sorry the asks are taking a bit, I wanted to get all the prompt asks out of the way first though before I started with the character palettes because they were sent first. But I hope you enjoy these while I wait and if you like these I might make a part 2.
#dialogue prompts#120 dialogue prompts#body prompts#prompts based on body parts#lightly nasty#ns/fw prompts#angst prompts#tw mention of abuse#slightly smutty#prompts#fic prompts#writer#write#dialogue#if you want me to tag anything let me know
144 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don’t know if you’re still doing these but: “I got drunk and ordered some copporn” and “You mean pop corn” Detective Baxter + Drunk reader + Smut Love your work!!!!!
❤️ YOU--I love this request! Tweaked the dialogue to fit, but I hope you like it.
Warning: Dirty talk + drunk sex (18+ please)
* * * * *
When the clock struck double digits, you mixed up your first drink. Really, what was the difference between your usual breakfast smoothie and a strawberry margarita?
As you quickly finished the first glass, you decided there really wasn’t much of a difference at all. Except that margaritas were muuuch, muuch, much better.
Dancing through the kitchen, still in your sleepshirt, you mixed up your second batch of margaritas as Baxter sleepily emerged from your bedroom.
His hair was a mess and there was still some purple under his eyes. Working overtime was taking its toll on him, and honestly, on you, too. It seemed like all the two of you had been doing for the past few weeks was telling each other goodbye as you headed off to your respective jobs, and as you looked at him from over the rim of your drink, you thought about how much you missed him.
Lowering your glass, you enthusiastically asked, “Wanna watch a movie?”
Baxter flinched since your voice was about three times higher than its normal octave, but he grinned and muttered, “Sure.”
You followed him, watching as he attempted to smooth down his hair as he staggered toward the den.
Giggling, you slunk up behind him and hugged him before he could sit down.
“Ooof,” he uttered as you squeezed him, his hands coming up to cover yours.
“I’m drunk,” you announced to the back of his neck.
“I can tell,” he replied with a soft chuckle, patting your hands patiently as they remained clutched around his waist.
“Sit! I’m gonna make some copporn!”
“You mean pop corn?” Baxter said warily as he loosened your hold on him and turned around, his eyebrows raised.
You blinked, realizing that what you said sounded an awful lot like cop … porn.
“Oh … oh,” you said, your voice taking on a sinister edge. “You’d like that wouldn’t ya, Mister Officer?”
Despite the fact that he knew you were drunk off your ass, Baxter cleared his throat, a slight blush tinging his cheeks as he thought that yes, he’d like that very much.
“I’ll, uh, pick a movie,” he said, sitting down on the couch and pulling one of the throw pillows over his lap.
You took one long look at him, his sleep-disheveled curls, the slight stubble darkening his cheeks and jaw, the way his white t-shirt clung to his lean body, and the black sweatpants that you loved on him, now half-obscured by a pillow, and you dashed out of the room, a wicked grin spreading across your face.
Baxter was just about ready to get up and see where you went when you appeared in the doorway of the den and his mouth dropped open.
Laughing, a little more maniacally than seductively, you adjusted the hat from his dress blues before running your hands down the already opened front of the uniform’s matching button-down shirt. Baxter’s badge was haphazardly pinned to the left breast pocket, actually, it was pinned upside-down, but you neither noticed nor cared.
You had forgone pants and had switched out your comfy underwear for a dark blue pair of lacey panties that matched the color of his uniform.
Baxter sucked in a breath, watching as you sauntered to him, and his eyes worked their way slowly up your body as you came to a stop right in front of him.
When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide, all signs of sleepiness gone. His lips were still parted, and you watched as his tongue came out to wet them.
“Wanna make some cop . . . porn,” you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face.
Baxter’s hands twitched on top of the throw pillow, clearly eager to reach for you.
“Wha--what’s gotten . . . into you?” he stammered out, his eyes sliding down your body this time.
“I miss you,” you said slowly and clearly.
Baxter’s eyes shot up to your face and he growled as he tossed the pillow aside and pulled you onto his lap, both of you groaning when your hips made contact. He flung open his shirt so he could palm your tits as you began to rock into him, your eyes rolling back at the friction.
“Fuck me, Bax,” you begged. “Ready for you.”
Wary of your claim, he slipped his fingers into your panties but you were, indeed, ready for him. You hadn’t been lying—you really had missed him.
He ran his fingers through your lips, spreading your arousal and pulling more uninhibited moans from your throat. One of the best things about a good drunk fuck with your loving partner was the feeling of freedom to just let your body do what it wanted.
That, and you found yourself able to let all of your filthiest thoughts fall from your lips.
“I love the way you finger my pussy,” you breathed, rocking into his touch as Baxter’s already hard dick began to throb with need. “Only thing that feels better is your big fucking cock.”
“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Baxter said, tossing you off his lap and standing to yank down his sweatpants and his boxers, kicking them away as he reached over his head to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.
You giggled and wriggled out of your panties, stopping to plunge your fingers into your body, but Baxter’s hand shot out and pulled them away.
He lifted them to his mouth as he crawled between your legs and swirled his tongue around your index and middle finger until every last remnant of your arousal was licked off.
“You like that, Bax? The taste of my pussy on your tongue?”
He dropped your hand and aligned himself with your opening. As he bent to kiss you, he thrust inside of you and you cried out, your eyes rolling back from the force of your pleasure as he filled you up.
You moaned with every thrust, but this wasn’t what you wanted.
You wanted it hotter . . . dirtier.
“Fuck me from behind,” you said, biting at Baxter’s lower lip.
He closed his eyes, willing himself not to come too soon but you were making it really, really difficult.
He pulled out and stood up, letting you decide how you wanted to position yourself. Tossing off the remaining pillows, you put one leg up on the armrest of the couch and leaned forward into the back of it, bracing yourself. Baxter rested his knee near your leg on the couch and ran his hands over your ass, sliding up your back and under his shirt.
“Smack my ass and fuck me like you mean it, Officer.”
He groaned, long and low as he plunged his dick into your waiting pussy.
Both of Baxter’s strong hands came down on your ass cheeks and you cried out, a wave of white-hot pleasure bursting behind your eyes.
“Yes!”
He brought his hand down on your right cheek, then your left, alternating his smacks between his thrusts.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged, your orgasm growing close as he slowly thrust against your g-spot, his cock at the perfect angle.
“Alright, Ms. Officer,” he hissed in your ear, and that alone was almost, almost enough to send you over the edge.
Baxter picked up his pace, slamming into your soaking pussy, his hat finally bouncing off your head and onto the floor with the force of his thrusts as you began to scream for him, a chorus of yeses and his name that sent him shooting his cum into you immediately after the first contraction of your orgasm.
“Oh my god,” Baxter groaned when he found his breath.
He bent to press light kisses to your backside after he pulled out of you, the sight of your swollen pussy leaking with his cum threatening to make him hard again.
When he plopped onto the couch, you finally moved, rolling down onto him so you were sprawled across his lap. He looked down at you and started laughing.
“My badge is upside-down.”
“Did you say . . . you’d like to turn my vadge upside-down?” you tried to say seductively but broke, a bubble of laughter following your statement as Baxter began to laugh even harder, too.
“Stop,” he said, swiping at the corner of his eye. “You’re bad—is it the margaritas? Do I need to start making them, like, every fucking day?”
“I mean, the margaritas make this a little more fun, but trust me . . . it’s all you, officer cutie pants. It’s alllll you.”
Baxter leaned down to kiss you, both of you grinning like the lovesick idiots you were.
#detective baxter x reader#detective cutie pants x reader#female reader#detective cutie pants smut#smut#Rami Malek smut#detective cutie pants#little things
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fates Be Damned - fic
Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Selina Kyle
Summary: Batman Incorporated was waging war against Leviathan. But Dick would be damned if he let Damian become a casualty to this fight.
A/N: A fix it for Batman Inc. 4 from like five years ago!!! Because I’m clearly up with the times. Bruce’s starting dialogue is from that issue. I don’t want to call this a hurt/comfort fic, because it’s not a happy ending for everyone, and I’d be interested in anyone thoughts on the ending I chose because it’s not a ‘everything tied up neatly’ kind of ending like I tend to do. Anyways, this all happens over a year as hinted at. Alfred was away in the last part, and he is still in constant contact with Dick and Damian. Dick and Damian keep up their training, though really do enjoy not being vigilantes. No, Damian does not take Dick’s last name. Batcow and Goliath, of course, come with them to live in the ‘burbs, and the family visits often. Bruce does too, eventually.
~~
It felt like someone shocked him. Or maybe slapped him, or just said the sky is falling.
Because this…this wasn’t happening, right?
He looked to his brothers, to Tim and Jason, and saw his own near-revulsion mirrored on their own faces.
So it wasn’t a dream. Or a miscommunication.
Here they were, in the middle of a goddamn war, all hands on deck. And Bruce just told one of their ranks, just told Damian – little, mostly innocent, eleven-year-old Damian – that he had to leave the life he chose, the life he loved, and go back to his mother, the one who hurt him more than anyone in the world.
And Damian’s face is wrecked. Dick had never seen this child cry, but here, there were tears in his eyes, and terror in his voice, as he tried to reason with Bruce, explain how much he gave up, how much he did. Just to belong, just to be loved by his old man.
How much he didn’t want to go.
But Bruce… Jesus Christ, Bruce just shook his head.
“If you don’t, Gotham, the world, will be plunged into chaos. And you, Damian…” Bruce sighed, like he was disappointed. “You’re going to be responsible…”
It was out of his mouth before he thought about it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dick snapped. Damian jumped in surprise, and Bruce turned so quick he may have given himself some sort of whiplash.
But any surprise Batman had immediately disappeared. “Excuse me?”
“He’s eleven, Bruce.” Dick hissed, balling his hands into fists. Damian had looked away now, stepped forward and grabbed Bruce’s cape to regain his attention, plead his case. “He’s eleven years old, your fucking son, and not only are you blaming him for this mess, you’re going to force him to go back to Talia?”
Bruce’s shoulders slumped. “Dick, you don’t understand…”
“The woman who put him through hell for most of his life?” Dick’s fury rose with every word, and he could feel his muscles start to shake with adrenaline. “The woman who put a fucking hit out on him, and you’re going to send him back to her?!”
“Dick…”
“No. No.” Dick started shaking his head. In his periphery he could see Tim and Jason glancing at each other, Damian still trying to take back Bruce’s attention. “You know what? No, I’m done. Because I let you take him back, I let you break up our partnership and regain guardianship even though I knew, deep down, it was a terrible idea, for both him and you. I let you uproot him and isolate him. I even let you abandon him for your rendezvous with Selina, or any time you felt the need to play Brucie Wayne halfway across the world.”
He stepped forward now, his breathing heavy as he got into Bruce’s face.
“But you must think I’m a goddamn idiot if you think I’m going to let you sacrifice him just because you and Talia can’t get along, and got the whole world involved in your stupid spat.” He poked Bruce in the chest now. Over and over, to emphasize his words. “Damian is innocent in this, and for you to have the audacity to blame him…” Dick bit his lip, and shook his head. “The needs of the many don’t outweigh the needs of the few. Not here. Not with your own fucking son, Bruce.”
“Dick, if there was another way you know I’d-”
“I’m done listening. I’m done being your soldier in this. I’m done letting you hurt him, for nothing.” Dick growled. Without waiting for a reply, he shoved past him to where Damian was standing, and scooped the boy up into his arms. “I’m taking him, and we’re going into hiding until this garbage is finished. I’ll help run computers with Oracle, and ping the communicators when I’m online.”
“Dick…!”
“I’m disappointed, Bruce.” Dick glanced back, just once, holding the back of Damian’s head. “You’ve made better plans in worse situations. And the one you settled on here, to save the day, was to sell your son back to the demon?” He narrowed his eyes. “Shame on you.”
Damian didn’t argue as Dick moved towards the door. Just wrapped his arms and legs as tightly around Dick as he dared. His breaths were shallow and hiccupped, and Dick could feel the tears splashing away from his cheeks.
“G-G-Grayson.” He murmured.
“I know.” He whispered, kissing Damian’s head. He couldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it was a lie, and Dick couldn’t do that to him. Not right now. “But I’ve got you.”
Damian dug his traumatized, trembling fingers into Dick’s neck.
“I’ve got you now, kiddo.”
~~
Dick had been right, in the end. Bruce did come up with a better solution.
The world was saved. Talia and her army were dealt with. Blah, blah, blah.
That’d been about a month and a half ago, and it was still Dick’s kitchen table in a tiny rented house away from any city that Damian sat at every morning to eat his breakfast.
Bruce had called a week after the battle ended. Told Dick about the final fight between him and his once-lover, the injuries sustained. How everyone, from family to communities, were coping with the aftermath.
Dick listened politely, waiting for the real reason for the call.
“So…yeah. Everything has been settled. Talia won’t be bothering us again for a long time.” Bruce huffed, trying to be nonchalant. “You can…bring Damian home whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Bruce couldn’t see it, but Dick smiled. A sneering, cold, angry smile. “Who said I was bringing him home at all?”
And then he hung up.
Damian had been in the room during the call, drawing in the corner and taking pictures on his phone of his dozing pets. He’d heard everything Bruce said, just as he heard everything Dick said.
So when Dick tossed his phone on the table and looked up, it was no surprise that Damian was staring at him.
“What?”
“You…” Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. “You’re not making me go back to Father?”
Dick blinked as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you want to?”
Damian’s eyes lowered, his lips twisted in thought.
“…No.” He decided, looking back to his art. “I…after what happened, I…don’t think I’m ready to see Father yet.”
“Okay.” Dick smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
Dick turned on the TV. Damian went back to drawing.
~~
It was no surprise when the Batman showed up at his door in the middle of the night.
“Took you long enough.” Dick muttered dryly when he answered the door with crossed arms. Stephanie, Batgirl, stood sheepishly behind him, clearly not wanting to be there as his partner.
“I need to see him.” Bruce growled.
“Well, he’s sleeping.” Dick smirked. “So how about you call again in the morning and make an appointment.”
“He’s my son, Dick.”
“Yeah, well.” Dick shrugged. “Maybe not anymore.”
And Dick knew Bruce well enough to see the hit that was coming, and block it.
“Oh, going to break into my house and beat me up?” Dick laughed, even as Stephanie tried to get between them. “Where was all this concern during you and Talia’s little tiff, hm?”
Before the fight could continue, there was a harsh whisper from further into the house. “Oh, will you two knock it off?”
Bruce hesitated, and glanced over Dick’s shoulder to find Tim standing at the mouth of another hallway. “If you two wake him up, I’m kicking you both out. He has a test in the morning and needs his rest.”
Bruce blinked, allowing Stephanie to push him away from Dick. “Test?” He looked at his eldest. “He’s in school?”
“Well he’s not getting private lessons from Alfred anymore, so I enrolled him here.” Dick pretended to dust dirt from his shoulders. “He’s still struggling with being a child genius and making friends, so Tim comes by and helps tutor him sometimes, since he knows what that’s like.”
“…This wasn’t a permanent move, Dick. For either of you.” Bruce scolded.
“Yeah, well. Maybe I decided it should be.” Dick spat. “He doesn’t need to be Robin, he doesn’t need to be out there on the streets like that anymore. And…maybe I don’t either. Haven’t thought about Nightwing once since we moved to the suburbs, if I’m honest.”
“Domesticated? You?” Steph snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“It’s wild, Steph.” Tim called from behind him.
Dick shot her a warm grin, but Bruce cut their own small moment off. “I want to speak to my son.”
“Well, A, I’m also your son and you’re speaking to me, so. You already have.” Dick mocked. “And B, you’ll talk to him when I say you can. Which is not right now.”
Bruce tried one of his tactics, pushed into Dick’s space and glared down at him. “He’s not your son, Dick.”
Dick shrugged, keeping his sneer. “Maybe he actually is.”
Dick smoothly backed away. “You’re welcome to a drink, snack or nap while you’re here. And if you don’t want any of those, then you can just get the fuck out, I guess.”
“Dick…” Tim sighed as Dick stood next to him.
Dick smiled. “You play host, Timmy. I’m beat. Mind if I hit the hay?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just disappeared down the hall behind Tim.
Later, after he’d entertained Bruce and Stephanie, and gave them a little more insight into Dick and Damian’s new life – Dick’s job at a youth center, teaching each other how to cook, Damian’s friends – Tim checked on Dick before heading to the guest bedroom himself.
Dick wasn’t in his own room, and that didn’t surprise Tim at all. He sighed, turned to Damian’s room, and found Dick in there, all but octopus-wrapped around Damian.
Tim frowned at the escrima stick his sleeping older brother still held at the ready, though.
~~
It was never stated out loud, or made official.
Damian lived with Dick now. Permanently.
It was one of those things that everyone knew, but no one talked about, at least, not in front of those involved.
Dick’s friends quietly texted each other about it. The Justice League murmured amongst themselves when Bruce wasn’t on the satellite. The rest of the Batfamily did what they could to just bridge the gap.
Bruce was more closed off than normal, and he talked about his eldest and youngest less and less. Even their codenames of Nightwing and Robin were like forbidden words.
There were cases with their uniforms in the cave now. And Batman’s other partners found him staring at them often.
Dick and Damian didn’t patrol anymore, and Robin and Nightwing hadn’t been seen since the War of Gotham, and the fight against Leviathan.
Most people thought they were dead. No one corrected them.
But Dick and Damian seemed to have traded their gauntlets for gardens. They walked the dog around the neighborhood every night. They meal-prepped, had movie nights, attended the local neighborhood block party.
To their neighbors, it was a single young father and his son. Just some normal folks with their not-quite-normal pets, trying to get away from the city life, and the darkness of Gotham. The father was charismatic and handsome. His son a bit aloof, but polite when approached.
They didn’t talk about their past. Didn’t talk about things like the boy’s mother, or any other family. They came from Gotham, that’s all anyone in town knew.
And they were happy, that’s all anyone in town knew, too.
~~
Jason watched him for a few moments, slowly taking a gulp of his beer. Then, he slowly lowered his bottle and smacked his lips thoughtfully.
“You’re too giddy about this.”
Dick looked up from Damian, who was sleeping against his side. The child had fallen asleep after the three had had dinner, and continued to curl into Dick’s side in his slumber as the sun lowered behind the horizon.
“Too giddy about what?”
Jason motioned to Damian. “Being his dad.”
Dick blinked, and then fell into a huffed laugh. “I’m not his dad.”
“I bet he’d beg to differ.” Jason murmured. Paused to look at Damian himself. His chubby cheeks and long lashes. How small he was. “…If you didn’t want to give him back to Bruce in the first place, why did you?”
“I thought it was best for him. He’d always wanted to be with Bruce. It wasn’t my place to keep him from that.” Dick hummed, glancing back down to Damian himself, brushing his hair away from his eyes.
“Could have just asked him.”
“I also didn’t think I was ready to be a dad. It was a lot, that time Bruce was gone. Being Batman, raising him…” Dick shrugged. “I wasn’t doing that great of a job, despite what you all apparently think. And he deserved better.”
“And now after everything that’s happened, do you regret what you did?” Jason asked. “If you could go back, would you have kept him with you instead?”
“…I don’t know.” Dick sighed. “Maybe. If I knew Bruce was going to be this much of a prick, then yes. I would have kept him as far away from Bruce as humanly possible.”
“Well, better late than never on that last bit, right?” Jason snorted. He let the laugh die off as he took another drink of his beer. “You ever going to speak to him again?”
“I speak to him now, Jay, you know that. Just not…you know, frequently.” Dick defended. “But I know you mean in regards to Damian, and…no. I want to talk to Damian about it first, but I don’t think he’s ready.”
“Dick, it’s been months.”
“Yeah, and Bruce was trying to give him away forever.” Dick nearly spat. A sore spot still, Jason assumed. Though he wondered if it was a worse sore spot for Dick or Damian. “It’s…a lot to deal with. You were there, you saw how Damian reacted.”
“Yeah, he cried. Never seen that before.” Jason admitted. “Has he talked about Bruce at all?”
“In passing, and…coldly. Very detached.” Dick’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t call him Father anymore. Just Bruce. Sometimes even Mr. Wayne.”
“Harsh. Does Bruce know that?” Jason asked.
“Tim knows, and I’m betting he’s mentioned it to him.” Dick explained. “But, I digress. It’s not something I want to push him on. I just…want to be here for him instead. In the interim, whenever he’s ready. Stuff like that.”
“AKA…like a dad.” Jason smirked.
“Shut it.” Dick laughed. “…What’s your thoughts on all this?”
Jason took another drink from his bottle, picked up his phone and read a quick text message. “I think Bruce was a piece of shit, deciding that was the only option for ending that stupid battle.” He placed his phone back down. “And I think you did the right thing by getting Damian out and as far away as possible.”
“Think I should have kept him?”
Jason thought a moment more. “…Yes.” A quick sniff. “And I think you should have gotten him out of the life. You getting out too was just a bonus, I think.”
Dick smiled warmly. “Thanks, Jay.” He inhaled. “I thought I’d miss it more, being Nightwing and all that, but.” He looked down at Damian, ran his hand up and down Damian’s arm. Damian just burrowed deeper into his side. “I don’t.”
“They say having kids changes you.” Jason reminded. “And this time around, you aren’t trying to juggle seven hundred different things. And you’re not grieving.”
“True.” Dick mumbled, staring down at the boy in his arms. “…I hate Bruce for what he tried to do.”
“We all do, I think.” Jason offered. “Damian’s a shitball, but…he didn’t deserve that.”
“Do you think Bruce understands that yet?” Dick asked.
“…I don’t know.” Jason admitted. “It’s hard to tell with him.”
Dick nodded, then slowly leaned his head against Damian’s, looking at Jason with a soft smile.
“Thanks for stopping by, Jay.” Dick hummed. “I really love when you do.” Then a laugh. “And Damian will never admit it, but he does too.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s what’s family is for, and all that shit.”
Dick laughed and closed his eyes. Jason just took another drink.
~~
“…Do you blame me?” Bruce, not Batman, asked, though his cape waved softly behind him. Cassandra and Tim glanced at each other, then to Bruce’s back, as he did not face them. Selina tilted her head. “Do you hate me?”
“Hate, no.” Selina hummed. “But blame? Well, Bat. What you almost did was terrible. Would you blame us if we did?”
“It was…” Bruce looked down at the streets below them. “I didn’t think I had another choice.”
“But in the end, you did.” Selina reminded. She looked at the younger two heroes, gave them an encouraging smile. They didn’t return it. “You found another solution that didn’t threaten your child’s life.”
“It was…” Cassandra offered. “A…poor choice.”
“And the only reason we don’t hate you is because Dick stepped in and stopped it from happening.” Tim added. “He saved Damian…and if he hadn’t gotten in your way, this conversation would be going very differently.”
Bruce closed his eyes, swayed slightly in the wind. “Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry?”
“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to.” Selina sighed. “You know that, Bat.”
Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “…Do you think he’s happy?”
“I know he is.” Tim almost hissed. It was harsh and angry, but controlled, contained. Businesslike, and so very Tim. “He’s probably happier than he’s ever been, which is funny to say since you broke his heart and he’s still trying to put those pieces back together.”
“And better,” Cassandra cut in. “He is…safe.”
“And alive.” Selina continued.
No one spoke after that, for just a moment. Let those words – happy, safe, alive – linger between them, and float through the air into the Gotham night.
“…I miss him. I miss him and Dick both.” Bruce whispered. “Am I allowed to?”
Selina walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to have emotions, Bruce.” A smirk, just for him. “In fact, we’re all pretty sure a lack of emotions is what got you here in the first place.”
Bruce tried to smile back to her. It didn’t feel right.
“…But to answer your question.” Tim exhaled, like he was exhausted. “No, we don’t hate you. We’re mad-”
“Pissed.” Cassandra interjected.
“-but would we be standing here if we hated you?”
~~
It’d been ten months.
Ten months of Damian living with him, away from Bruce – and they hadn’t talked about it. Not once. Not even a mention, or a second.
It made him anxious, worrying about what might be clouding Damian’s brain, but it also made him happy. Because Damian seemed freer here, outside of Gotham, away from the costumes.
Away from his father.
He smiled so much out now. Laughed out loud, let himself feel.
And as much as he knew they needed to talk about it, Dick just didn’t want to wreck that.
But still – the tension of the topic was palpable. And Dick didn’t want that to get worse.
So it wasn’t his plan to talk about it right now, as they lay in the backyard, resting against Batcow, gazing at the stars above them.
But as he watched Damian pointing constellations out to his dog between them, the words just slipped out.
“I’m sorry.”
Damian looked up at him, confused. “For?”
Dick just kept staring at his charge, his voice quiet. Mournful. “For what Bruce did to you.”
Damian’s creased brows smoothed. He glanced down, reaching out to pet Titus’ head, and shrugged.
“I wish it didn’t. I wish I could have stopped him before he ever said anything.” Dick whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to take you away.”
“But I’m glad you did.” Damian interjected immediately, eyes fierce when he met Dick’s eyes once more. “Who knows where I would be right now if you hadn’t.”
Dick tried to give a little smile at that.
“…How are you feeling, though? Are you doing okay?” Dick asked. “Are you…happy?”
Damian leaned back, stared thoughtfully up at the stars.
Then smiled.
“Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Damian decided. “A very long time.”
Dick allowed himself his own grin then, then shifted to pull Damian into his side and kiss his head.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick murmured into his hair. Damian merely shrugged again. “…Well, if you ever do, I’m here, okay?”
Damian looked up at him. His face was open and his smile was bright.
“I know you are.”
~~
The manor was quiet, that was the first thing Damian noticed as he stepped in the front door. Quiet and dusty.
He didn’t take off his shoes, didn’t plan to be here long, just looked around as he made his way towards his father’s study.
The house was so empty, he could hear the scratch of a pen from down the hall. When he reached the door, the noise was almost deafening.
He stood there, though, for just a moment. Collected himself, inhaled. Then pushed the door open.
Bruce was at his desk, proofreading some sort of document for Wayne Enterprises. There was the shadow of a beard around his face, and his hair was messy. He looked tired, but not Batman tired.
Old man tired.
He looked up at the movement of the door, and his eyes widened as he registered who it was. He learned back in his chair, braced the armrests like he was about to stand, but Damian held up his hand to wave him off.
“I’m not staying.” He said quickly. “Just…wanted to stop by.”
“…What are you doing here?” Bruce asked quietly. “In Gotham, I mean.”
“Grayson is having lunch with Gordon.” Damian hummed. “I asked to tag along, said I wanted to see a friend too.”
“…He doesn’t know you’re here.” Bruce concluded.
“No. But I will tell him later, when we’re finished.” Damian nodded. He hesitated for a moment, looked around the room, at the art and style. He didn’t feel any sense of nostalgia, though. Didn’t miss this place at all.
He sighed, and looked back at Bruce.
“…Father.” The word sounded strange, he hadn’t said it in so long. “I know we haven’t talked or seen each other since…since that day.” Damian started. He could see the pain in Bruce’s eyes immediately. The guilt. The regret. “Both through my own choices and Grayson’s interventions.”
Bruce waited, looked like he was holding his breath.
“But I just want you to know that I forgive you.” Damian said plainly. “I forgive you for what happened.”
Bruce watched for a moment, then slumped. “You don’t have to.” He whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it.”
“Debatable.” Damian shrugged. “But that doesn’t change anything, not from my perspective. I forgive you.”
Bruce looked down.
“So don’t…feel guilty. It’s okay.” Damian offered. “I...want you to be happy.”
“I’ll be happy when you come home.” Bruce admitted, not looking up. “…I miss you.”
Damian didn’t seem to expect that response. Blinked in surprise, then looked guilty himself.
“I feel that I am home.” Damian murmured. “With Grayson.”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“And I apologize for that, I know it’s not something you wanted to hear.” Damian sighed. “But…I’m happy to extend an invitation to you. To visit whenever you like.”
Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “Dick won’t like that.”
“I’ll get him to come around.” Damian paused then. “He won’t say it, but he forgives you too, or at least is in the process of it. He was only upset because your decision was not what he felt was best for me, and that’s all he wants.”
Bruce did look up at that.
“He just wants what’s best for me. And I’ve found that the life we’ve adopted since we left is that.”
“That’s…good.” Bruce forced himself to admit. “I’m glad. For you and Dick both.”
“Thank you.” Another hesitation. “And thank you for everything you’ve given me thus far. I appreciate it more than I can ever say, even with our last meeting what it was.”
Bruce flashed a grim smile. Thank you for introducing me to Dick, is what Damian wouldn’t say.
“…But I better get going. Like I said, I can’t stay. And I actually do have a friend I’d like to visit.” Damian ended. “…It’s good to see you…Father.”
“You as well, Damian.” Bruce stood. “Thank Dick for me. For protecting you when I should have.”
“I will.” Damian promised. Stopped again, like he didn’t know what to do next, then merely gave a quick wave. “Goodbye, Father.”
“Goodbye, Damian.”
Damian nodded, and disappeared back into the hall. Bruce didn’t follow.
Just sat back down, and hid his face in his hands as he heard the front door close.
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Forget Me Not Chapter 10 ~Friend Request~
Willie glanced at his watch. It had been a hectic morning at The Fraser Manor Inn kitchen waiting for the arrival of the new kitchen appliances and making sure they were all according to order specifications. With the job done and with two hours to spare, he had time to install fixtures and fittings for Claire and Geillis in their newly rented house before heading back to Lallybroch to take his mother shopping. Instead of using the car, Willie jogged to the girls' residence. It was a brisk run as it was only fifteen minutes walk away.
He was about to knock on the door when something caught his periphery. What the...? Turning sideways, he saw Claire lying very still on her front on a patch of grass, head tilted and shoulders bunched. He wanted to say something to grab her attention and asked what the hell she was doing, but something made him stop. iPhone held with both hands, she was poised to take a picture. Biting her lower lip in concentration, a thumb hovered on the screen button ready to tap. Combing the vicinity for the object of her inspiration, his gaze landed on an immobile grey cat looking directly at her with alert eyes, already prepared to pounce or to scamper away at the slightest movement. Seemingly entranced with Claire's soft voice, the feral animal tipped and dipped its head at the sound she was making.
"Here's a good kitty...that's it, sweety, keep looking this way. I have a dish of milk waiting for you," she hummed softly.
Willie held his breath, mentally urging her to capture the perfect shot. A few heartbeats went past, but the opportunity went flying out the window, when the ping sound of her phone spooked the cat, causing it to scurry into the fields. Still unaware he was stood there, Claire groaned loudly, letting her head fall on the ground in frustration for a few seconds. When she finally raised her head to look at her phone screen, Willie saw her body stiffen, and her hands shook.
Alarmed, he immediately went to her. "Hey Claire, ye alright?"
Startled, Claire's head spun in Willie's direction, hurriedly scrambling into sitting position and composing her face. "Oh...hey. I was taking a daft photo," she explained feebly, her cheeks flaming bright pink. "I didn't hear you coming. Where did you come from?"
"I jogged from the hotel. Ye were so engrossed with what ye were doing, I didn't want to interrupt." Willie kneeled down, concern carved on his face. He could see her knuckles were white from clutching her mobile. "What's this?" He pried the phone off her hand with little resistance as it renewed its consecutive pinging sounds. His face went white as he looked down on the device's screen and read the vile messages. There was no avoiding it. "Jesus, Claire, who is sending ye these? And who is Lee Dee?"
Claire brushed off Willie's sharp question, refusing to look at him. "I don't know...I keep blocking them on Facebook, but they keep coming back with different names," she whispered hoarsely. She visibly shook herself, smoothing away the grass and damp from her jeans and summoning a smile. "C'mon, let's go inside, it's cold. It's probably just some sick person who has nothing better to do. Let's forget about it, ok?" She tried to grab her phone back from Willie's hand, but he held it away from her.
Not bothering to ask her permission, Willie continued to swipe up the phone screen to reveal more sickening and shocking lines. "Hell, no, Claire. This is serious. How long has this been going on?" he asked in a low voice, a line forming between his eyebrows.
She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Four or five months, give or take."
"For fuck sake, Claire, that long? Does Jamie know?" Willie dragged down a hand on his face, trying to comprehend why anyone would send such messages to her.
"No!" The word emerged as a shout, laced in annoyance. "It's not important. Willie, please, just forget about it. Don't make a mountain out of a mole. Jamie's plate is overcrowded as it is, and the last thing he needs is worrying about something as silly as random stupid messages from the internet. I can handle this on my own. I'm an adult now in case you've forgotten...and you...you can stop acting like I need protection." She knew he wouldn't listen to reason, so she continued firmly. "I don't want to make a big deal out of it. So, drop it."
It was difficult for him to believe her when he could see flickers of pain in her eyes. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her there, but in doing so, he would be allowing himself to feel more than he should. This is Jamie's girl, reminding himself, and Jamie had asked him to look out for her. Respecting that wish was something Willie didn't take lightly, and it was a responsibility he took seriously. With incredible will power, he quickly kissed her on the forehead, instead of giving her the usual brotherly hug, and turned towards the entrance door. "Aye, ye're probably right. It's probably nothing. Let's go inside then and put up those new curtain rails."
Appeased, Claire let them into the house with Willie close behind. Once inside, he watched her make a beeline to the kitchen cupboard, and with shaking hands, she retrieved two tumblers and poured a generous measure of whisky in each glass. It was then and there he realised her drinking could have something to do with the messages she had been receiving.
..........
Lying on the bed, Jamie stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. The plan had been to track down Annalise's adoptive family, but she was so damn elusive of their whereabouts, he had no choice but to drop the subject and the idea of attempting to find them. He knew she had severed their ties because of her abusive past suffered in their hands, but surely there must be somebody else in her life who cares about her. Friends? Long distant relatives? Acquaintances? Where are they? She couldn't have lived all her life not having anyone.
His mind drifted back to four days ago to their initial conversation. So, Jamie Fraser, for my second wish...I want to ask you...will you be my husband, until death takes hold of me? I don't want to die alone. Of all the things he thought Annalise would ask of him, he had definitely not foreseen that. Speechless and unsure how to proceed, all he could do was bury his face in his hands, giving himself time to formulate his next words...or action. It didn't help that his attention was divided continuously by his constant thoughts of Claire. There was no help. He wanted her so badly, in all sorts of ways that it made him ache all over. Christ, I miss her.
Mistaking his silence as contemplation, Annalise had walked over to him, reaching out to lay his head on her burgeoning belly.
Her touch had made him jump with a start. "No Annalise...no." His abruptness had startled both of them, but he was determined to keep her at arm's length. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, especially not in her condition. Studying her as he grappled for the right words, he thought he saw a flash of anger in her eyes. Or was it jealousy? Before he could read more into it, that damn mask was back on again. "Christ, Annalise...I'm truly sorry. Bloody hell, ye're dying, but I cannae grant ye this." He paused, releasing his pent up breaths. "No. I am here to help ye, but that is one wish I can't deliver. No, I cannae marry ye. I have someone... a-and I love her."
As expected, she had retreated back to her seat and to that impregnable veil, only shaking her head in response, maybe as a self-reproof for her own forwardness or embarrassment for being denied. "Of course..oh God. How could I ask you for such a thing? No... please don't be sorry. It's me who should be apologising. What was I thinking?" she sputtered, managing a self-conscious laugh at herself. "I had to ask because I'm desperate, it was the only way. I've never minded being on my own, but the idea of dying with no one in my life to speak of is terrifying. But I have to be content with the knowledge you'll make sure my baby will go to a loving home."
Looking at Annalise sat on the single armchair that seemed to swallow her, she had looked fragile, small, and so lost. She lived in a city that never sleeps, and it's thronged with people, jostling and going about their business without a care, and every day, she viewed the street below, like watching life go by in her absence from a fishbowl. Suddenly the small apartment had seemed suffocating, and Jamie knew he couldn't stay. He needed to get out of there to think clearly. Despite the silent plea in her eyes begging him to stay, he didn't, but he promised he would come back.
Came back, he did. They talked as he poured over papers upon papers of printed doctors' diagnosis and examinations that Annalise handed to him. It may as well had been written in Chinese as Jamie's thoughts bounced to and fro, her words going in one ear and out the other, and the medical documents were nothing but a blur. Nothing was registering when his mind kept wandering to Claire and the dialogue he had with his brother. Claire has a drinking problem.
Although trust had been verbally established between them, he didn't want to give her any reasons to doubt; hence, he had checked himself into a hotel and regularly updated Claire with news, omitting the part on Annalise's final wish. And after Willie's admission of his deep-seated fondness for Claire, he didn't want anyone thinking that she was available for dates especially now that her arrival back in Lallybroch had piqued interest. Thus, he had posted the picture he took of them on Facebook, tagging her and updating his status, in a relationship. She wasn't impressed as she was never one to post a photo of herself on any social media platforms, but she gave in eventually, knowing his counterargument would be unreasonable. Now that it's out there loud and clear, there should be no more misunderstanding.
Jamie held no illusions that his mere presence by Annalise would solve everything, nor was he arrogant enough to believe that every second of the five days he had spent with Claire, would guarantee a happily ever after. The crack of jagged daylight on Claire's wall was just beginning to show, and no longer did she have that worry in her eyes that their relationship would be met with disapproval. The deeply etched line between the two of them had been brushed away... for now, and he intended to continue to break that crack of light wide open.
He had made up his mind. Jamie was taking Annalise to Lallybroch with him, and that decision was based on selfish reasons. He missed Claire. Jamie needed her now. Even before Willie had confessed Claire's possible drinking problem, he already knew she was still fighting a lot of insecurities. How often, over the years, had he seen Claire vibrating with suppressed emotions? The thought made everything masculine inside him react. A bolt of heat had hit its mark, spreading throughout his loins. He was aching for her desperately if the outrageously full erection was any indication. She's mine to fix, and she's mine to balance. Love provides that balance.
With shaking hands, he reached out for his iPhone on the bedside table and facetime Claire. She answered on the first ring, draped in a bathrobe, a mug of tea poised at her lips. He could see she was in her bedroom. "Jaime!"
"Sassenach..." His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. Christ, she's beautiful...Sorcha. "What are ye doing? Are ye alone in the house?"
"Umm, Willie and Geillis are in the kitchen. Willie stopped by for dinner earlier. It was the least we could do for him after he did a few jobs for us around the house. I've excused myself, and I was just about to read a book." Claire disappeared from the screen as she twisted to her side to set the mug by the bedside table. "Are you alright, Jamie? You have that funny look on your face." She paused for a few seconds. "Uh-oh, I know that look."
"Lock yer door, Sassenach."
Claire didn't need telling twice as if she could read his mind and quickly scrambled from the bed. When she came back on the screen, excitement flashed in her eyes. "Now what?" she whispered, in anticipation.
"Take off yer robe. I want to see all yer naked body," Jaime demanded in a thick voice, as he slid down his sweatpants and boxer shorts, and wrapped his hand around his cock. "I want to see ye touch yersel'. I want to watch ye."
"Oh!" A heartbeat passed." Are you touching yourself?" she asked, her voice cracking and eyes doubling in size. Without waiting for him to answer, she went out of focus while she set her phone upon a stack of cushions, fussing and fiddling to place it at a right angle. He could almost see her blushing and smell her scent when he shut his eyes, envisioning her before him.
"Aye, I've been thinking of ye the whole day, and it's given me a painful cock-stand. I need ye so badly...please let me watch ye, Sassenach." His fist squeezed up and down his erection as he watched Claire sank back against a pile of pillows and slowly unknotted the tie to her bathrobe.
"Jamie, I've never done this before..." She looked painfully shy but at the same time, so damn sexy. He swallowed hard as his eyes focused on her hands, parting her bathrobe, ever slowly, revealing inch by inch the smooth white skin. So beautiful, my lass, love, love her.
"Christ, ye're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on...look at what ye do to me. The thought of ye makes me so hard and seeing ye like that in bed is enough to drive me crazy," he rasped, tightening his hold on his aching throb. "Touch yersel', Sassenach, and pretend it's my hands touching ye."
The need in his voice must have coaxed her to slipped off her panties, her glazed eyes boring into him. Her chest and cheeks were flushed, and her tits were larger than usual. She must be having her period soon, he thought
Her head fell backwards, shaking hands sliding up her stomach to cup her swollen breasts. As fingers rubbed over her nipples, her breath caught in her throat. "Oh God, Jamie..."
"I got ye Sassenach, I see ye...fuck, ye're so gorgeous," he gritted, his hand moving faster along his length. "Think of me sucking those beautiful tits."
The sound of his shallow breathing and the hitch of his breath encouraged her more. Staring into the screen on the phone, she spread her legs apart, his darkening eyes following every movement of her hands. She slid one hand down her stomach and dipped closer between her thighs. Slipping her fingers between the folds of her mound, she thrust them into her centre. "Oh, God, yes..." She moaned as she swiped the moisture from her sex, rubbing her finger over her sensitive spot.
"Look at me Sassenach...keep looking at me. I love ye, ye understand," His accent was becoming thicker by every word as he watched her finger movement grow erratic, his own hips rocking hard beneath the motion of his hands. "I love every fucking inch of ye. There's only been ye...ye hear me. Ye're mine. Mine. Say it."
"I'm yours, Jamie...always," she sobbed, working her finger in a circle between her thighs. "Oh, God, oh, God...Jamie..." Claire's gaze stayed on his, her eyelids weighed down with lust. "I'm nearly there..." Panting, she reached and pinched her nipple, her fingers repeatedly rubbing between her wet folds.
"So beautiful...so beautiful. Aye, that's it, don't stop. I'm with ye...love ye so much. So sweet..." Her body arched and convulsed in response, as his head buzzed and spun with urgency. "Jesus, Jesus Christ," Jamie gritted out, his own body racked with shudders, as his release came shooting out his hand, gripping him with near-paralysing bliss.
They both went silent as they allowed the waves of pleasure to subside, content to simply be and gaze at each other. As Claire curled up to hug a pillow, Jamie made a move to get up from his bed. "How are ye feeling?"
She nodded and smiled. "Sleepy..."
"Don't switch off the phone yet. I want to watch ye sleep. I'll be in the bathroom to clean mysel'" Jamie whispered, his chest expanding with love as he watched her body relax and her eyes strived to remain open.
"Good night, Jamie," she mumbled, pulling the covers over her shoulder and placing the phone next to her.
"Sassenach? I have something to tell ye...before you go to sleep."
"Mmm?"
"I'm coming home in two days."
Her eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, but he knew she was too tired to ask questions. It was just as well as he didn't feel like talking about Annalise after what they just shared. "I can't wait..." were her last words before Claire nodded to sleep.
..........
By the time Willie reached Lallybroch, his parents were already asleep. He wanted to speak to Claire before leaving her, but he heard her bedroom locking as he was about to knock. Sitting alone, by the fire, in the family room, he took out his phone and read the message from Jamie letting him know he was coming home with Annalise.
Having never met Jamie's ex-girlfriend, he decided to reserve his judgement when he meets her. There were other pressing matters that concerned him as he browsed through his picture gallery. Earlier, Willie made a few screenshots of the messages Claire received on Facebook and had it sent to his own phone. The date on one particular message disturbed him as it was sent way before Claire arrived Lallybroch and before she and Jamie became a couple.
You fucking whore, do you know it's incest to sleep with your brother? You're nothing but an ugly cunt.
He browsed through Claire's Facebook profile, knowing already she never posted a picture of herself. The images she posted were more of a hobby photography kind. There was only one photo of herself which Jamie posted and tagged her in, and this was from a few days ago. Swiping up further, he searched for a post nearer to the date when the vile messages started landing in Claire's inbox. They began on the day when she announced on Facebook she was coming home to Lallybroch to stay for good.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Full of Yourself
Y’all ever get consumed by the ghost-of-writing’s-past and impulsively stay up way too late writing a fanfic all because you wanted to use one set of dialogue you thought would be funny? So anyway, here’s wonderwall
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024296
Ray hesitated in front of the door. This was dumb. It was arguably a breaking of their unspoken rules of privacy. He and Ryan didn’t ask stuff directly, certainly not in actual words. They just, you know, took what they were given when they were given it, let the other know they were there and would listen and would care. It was a good system. One that resulted in Ryan knowing things about Ray no one else ever has and maybe ever will. Ray likes to think it also goes vice-versa. But this was bugging him. Bugging wasn’t even the right word for it, this was eating at him, slowly and surely, every second of every day, and making him hollower and hollower by the minute. He needed to get this addressed.
The worst part was he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know who it was – who on earth did Ryan like? He knew the guy too much and knew the tells too well to not know his attitude was definitely the result of some kind of crush. Ray’s been through it too himself, he knows exactly what stage Ryan’s in: smack dab in the thick of the finally-having-accepted-he-likes-them-but-not-yet-met-with-the-crushing-reality-that-to-have-anything-happen-would-require-the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-known zone. Ray zoomed past that post like a couple months ago and has landed in the knows-Ryan-will-never-return-his-feelings-but-will-enjoy-his-time-with-him-nonetheless-if-bittersweetly position on the rode o’ heartbreak. Recently it’s felt less like a road and more like an ouroboros, but the metaphor still stands.
Every time he tried to get info out of the others, they gave him this frustrating look of, “I know, but I won’t tell you, and it’s withering that you don’t already know,” as they swore they knew nothing of the sort. Which, honestly? They can go fuck themselves about that. Why are they all such assholes about this? There’s literally no reason to be, especially since Ray’s been so careful to hide his feelings so there’s no way they can know he has, like, a personal investment here.
So now he’s here, last resort. Actual, verbal communication. He’s already tried to talk himself out of it, told himself Ryan would tell him if and when he wanted to. He wasn’t owed this information. It was probably someone he didn’t even know (didn’t want to think about if that would hurt more than knowing them). It didn’t matter who it was, he was going to be happy for the guy anyway. Be there for talking about it no matter how much it hurt. Keep his heart hidden and let Ryan be happy – Ryan deserved to be happy.
And yet, Ray still wants to know. He just- he just wants to know, is all. So… you know. He guesses he’ll just… ask. Politely.
Ray took a deep breath and knocked on the door, some part of him wishing Ryan wasn’t actually home even though he knew for a fact he was.
There was a grunt from the other side of the door and Ray finally properly steeled himself. “Yo,” Ray called. There was a moment of shuffling sounds and then the door was unlocked and there was Ryan. His hair was a little mussed in its bun, the permanent bags under his eyes were no worse than usual, his t-shirt looked soft and his jeans were the dad-est thing Ray’s ever seen a serial killer wear in his life. Like usual, Ryan stepped aside and just let Ray into his room, not a word needing to be said.
When had this become their usual, Ray wondered. It’s not like they did anything when they hung out. Mostly Ray slouched improperly on some piece of furniture and/or floor. Sometimes tapping at his phone or DS, sometimes staring off into space while he fidgeted with something. Ryan’s room was quiet. In Ryan’s room Ray felt like he could relax. Ryan’s room had plants and blank walls that he wasn’t responsible for thinking about customizing. It was definitely weird that Ray found the idea of decorating or even properly living in his room stressful, but he did. Those pressures weren’t in Ryan’s room.
Plus, Ryan’s room had Ryan – doing something on his laptop, tapping away on a phone, tinkering away at something on his desk, reading a book like some kind of literate person. Sometimes Ryan would put on a movie and Ray would wander his way over and find himself leaning on him to watch it. Sometimes Ray would bring his switch and demand Ryan try to beat him in Mario Kart.
Sometimes Ray would knock and Ryan wouldn’t be doing so good, but for some reason he still let Ray in, as if having Ray there was better than not. Ray still hasn’t figured out why, but he does his best during those times to just quietly be there. He’d leave if Ryan asked him to, go if Ryan didn’t open the door. But Ryan never shooed him out. It’s just their usual.
Or, at least, it’s their current usual. If Ryan’s interested in someone, well, he really wouldn’t need Ray moping around to cramp his style. Probably wouldn’t be at the penthouse that much either anyway, and Ray’s not so desperate as to break into a guy’s room (not yet at least…). Ray takes a moment as he enters the room to mourn their usual, something he didn’t even realize he’d had to do till just now.
Yeah, Ray’s going to end up taking all of this super well. This is such a super good idea. He’s so fucking smart and good at things, Jesus Christ.
Ryan closed and re-locked the door – a motion one should typically fear when done by the Vagabond, but somehow being locked in a room with Ryan was probably Ray’s #1 pick for top-ten-places-that-give-him-emotional-and-physical-security. Ryan returned to where he must have been before Ray knocked, on the bed doing something with his computer. Ray always found it kind of funny (kind of cute) that no matter where Ryan was sitting, he always had perfect posture. Ray was positive that if he managed to make it to old age he’d pay for his slouching in back pain, but Ryan would be good to go for years. If they make it to then.
Ray considered, just for a moment, chickening out and just living with not knowing. Just enjoy this day and the next until it was over. But the gnawing in his stomach hadn’t let up for a single second and he knew he couldn’t do that.
Ray leaned against the desk and crossed his arms lightly, a flimsy physical barrier to the hurt to come. The distance between the two of them was a few feet, but somehow it felt like a chasm. Ryan looked up from his laptop for just a moment and then again, taking in Ray’s posture. That was another thing – Ryan could read him like a book. Ray could hide anything from anyone, but for some reason Ryan could always see right through. There wasn’t a point to putting up a façade for him, so Ray found himself not doing it. Now Ryan watched him, waiting for Ray to be ready to say what was on his mind. Ray studied the carpet.
Well, have to start this thing off one way or another.
“So, I, uh, heard you started to get interested in someone…” It was blunt, for sure. Not Ray’s usual beating around the bush, saying everything but what he wants. He doesn’t have to be direct, Ryan somehow catches his drift no matter what, but in this matter, he doesn’t know how else to say it.
Ray finally tore his eyes from the carpet to look at Ryan. Ryan’s face was in a red-hot blush and he stared owlishly at Ray. Well, there’s his answer, there’s his confirmation. As much as Ray knew that Ryan must surely like someone, some part of his heart was holding out for him to be wrong, for Ryan to have absolutely no interest in anyone. But the look on Ryan’s face makes it clear that he’s got a crush, and honestly probably a real doozy of one too.
Ray’s heart crumbles into dust in his chest. He wants to leave right then, go back to his stupid room and just not come back out. But still his morbid curiosity needs to know: Who? Who gets to have Ryan when Ray can’t?
“Must, uh, be a pretty good looker, to get your attention and all…” Ray mumbled to the floor.
And then, Ryan scoffed. Scoffed! And suddenly Ray looked up at him, now red in the face (from embarrassment or indignity, Ray wasn’t entirely sure).
“Well aren’t we full of ourselves?” Ryan said, still red in the face and now looking at the carpet himself. What?
“What?” Ray said, confused.
“What?” Ryan said, now looking up again in confusion, but it was a confusion as to why Ray was confused, which just confused Ray more.
“What do you mean?”
“Well you just called yourself good looking, so…” Ryan trailed off, now looking anywhere else once more. Huh?
“… No, I meant the person you like?”
“Right,” Ryan said, brow furrowed and looking up again, “You.”
“What?” Ray said.
“What?” Ryan said.
“What?” Ray said again, and for half a second, he thought it was clicking. Then his brain decided to immediately short circuit, however, so he lost it.
“You didn’t know already??” Ryan asked, confused. Know what? What would he know already? Know that Ryan liked him?
What? What!? What?
Ray didn’t really process it, he didn’t have time, he felt defensive. His one working brain cell decided that responding was more important than processing.
“No!! How was I supposed to know if you didn’t tell me!!” Ray shot back, because that was a fair point, actually.
“I-I thought that was why you were here!”
“No! I just wanted to know who it was I needed to be jealous of!” Ray’s last braincell needs to shut the FUCK up and stop being honest. But it’s pointless because his stupid self decided Ryan is safe enough for no façade. Idiot.
“Jealous? Why would you need to be jealous?”
Now it was Ray’s turn to scoff, “I! Because! The guy I like liking someone else is something to be jealous about!” Can he make it any more obvious?
Ryan was about to say something back but then he seemed to stop, the wheels in his head screeching to halt. They rewound until he came back with an unexpected sentence, looking at Ray with an unplaceable emotion that looked a lot like hope mixed with whiplash, “Wait, you like me?”
“Wha- I- Well,” Ray sputtered, somehow growing redder in the face by the second. This was all going downhill so fast and the breaks were yet to be found, “Y-yeah, of course I do!”
“What do you mean ‘of course’, I didn’t know!” Ryan said – not angry, just, Ray doesn’t know, he supposes flustered? That’s definitely how Ray felt.
“W-well- Now you do! And I didn’t know you liked me, so there!” Great come back, Ray. You showed him.
“Yeah, well, now you do!” Ryan said, equally as eloquent and now crossing his own arms. He looked damn near a pout too.
Ray buried his head in his hands. How had this gone so bad so quickly. There it is, suddenly out in the open. He told Ryan he liked him. Now everything was definitely ruined. Their usual was definitely done forever effective immediately and he still didn’t even know the answer to the question he came in here for.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of Ray’s brain a miracle occurred. What was thought to be the last-remaining brain cell stumbled upon one of its own kind. Shocked by the discovery of one-another, they wasted no time in producing what was long regarded as an extinct species within the confines of Ray’s mind – a single coherent thought.
Ray looked up from his hands at Ryan, wracked by his revelation. “Wait…” Ray said, finally catching on, “Y-you like me?”
Ryan looked like he was about to start the cycle over again when he caught the look on Ray’s face and suddenly softened. Softened the way Ray couldn’t help but notice only ever happened around him. Could he actually…?
“Well, yeah,” Ryan said, and Ray had never seen a more earnest man in his entire life. “Of course I do.”
The chasm between them somehow crew deeper, yet Ray suddenly wanted nothing more than to cross it. There’s no way, though, no way he could have this.
His arms uncrossed themselves. He squeezed the edge of the desk.
“W-well, th-that’s good.” Ray fought to keep himself looking at Ryan as he spoke. Fear and trepidation and hope and yearning built his heart back up. “B-because I like you too.”
“Y-you do?” Ryan asked, and now ray couldn’t help but smile, because here they go again. Ryan being nervous made Ray calmer. You don’t get nervous over things you don’t mean.
“Yeah,” Ray said, his voice now soft. “Of course I do.”
There was a quite moment of silence, more in awe of the moment than anything else. They just watched each other, not knowing what to do.
Ryan rose from where he’d been sitting on the bed and suddenly the chasm collapsed into absolutely nothing and Ray was walking the three steps to him without even thinking about it. Ray’s arms found Ryan’s shoulders and Ryan’s hands found Ray’s face and they stood there a moment, looking at each other – so close, the way Ray’s wanted to be a billion times before. Could they really? Were they really allowed? No way, Ray was tempted to think, they don’t get fairy tales. Do they? Ryan’s blue eyes washed out those thoughts and left nothing behind but unmistakable want.
“Can I kiss you?” Ryan asked, the ghost of his whisper rolling over Ray’s lips and raising goosebumps.
It was so fast for them, neither liked to plunge headlong into things. Both needed things to be taken slowly.
And yet Ray felt like they’d already done that part. They already have gone slow. They already know each other. They already trust each other. Ray’s waited so long for this. Ray wondered if Ryan has waited for this. The look in his eyes says it all – yes.
Ray smiles. “Of course you can.” And then there isn’t a single inch between them.
--
Bonus content:
After making out for a bit the raspberries suddenly start and then someone starts tickling and they just end up collapsing in bed play-fighting and laughing and the L-O-V-E word is still very scary, but the looks in their eyes say what they mean.
22 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
paulmariepernet
Paul-Marie Pernet
goodwinmack
nieodpłatna pomoc prawna Sanok 2021
mrmichaelchadler
Michael D. Chandler Tumblr
fake-daily-watcher-tweets
Shane’s left eyebrow
soundslikehoopla
miscellany etc.