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noxturnalpascal · 3 months

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Mutual

Steve Murphy x F!Reader (3.6k)

Summary: You and Steve spend some late nights in the office together, finding a new way to work off some of the frustrations of the never-ending hunt for the narcos.

Warnings: Basically all smut (and a big ole cock). Infidelity (only if your name is Connie).

A/N: A gift for one of my favorite - and long time - mutuals, @toxicanonymity. Thanks for everything you do for this community and for always being there whenever I need anything. Love you lots!!

You walk into the mostly-empty office holding two styrofoam cups of coffee and wearing a beleaguered expression. Immediately your eyes are drawn to Murphy’s hands, his elongated fingers, stained purple and red beneath the skin, cuts still oozing at his knuckles. You watch him stand up, take off his jacket and loosen his tie, then resume sitting behind his desk, completely ignoring your entrance.

“You’re here late,” Peña offers.

“Yeah, well some of us can’t get away with doing whatever we want,” you quip back.

Peña’s hand flies to his chest and pouts his lower lip as if your words have wounded him. You roll your eyes. You look back towards Murphy and can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. You wonder why. He still hasn’t looked up, busy flipping through paperwork, making notes in the margins.

“Seriously though, why are you here so late? I bet your boyfriend doesn’t like that,” Peña teases.

“I’ve told you several times that I don’t have a boyfriend, Peña.”

“And I’ve told you several times to call me Javi,” he coos. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again as he maintains eye contact. “Besides, if you’re single, why don’t I ever see you going on dates?”

“Because I’m here, working through dinner with you cowboys!”

Steve huffs a laugh at that and when you look at him he’s finally looking your way, eyebrows raised and pointing to one of the steaming cups in your hand. You hand it over, his long, bruised fingers brushing over yours during the exchange, and then offer the other cup to his partner. He doesn’t reach for it.

“Actually ma’am,” Peña says in a mock accent as he tips an invisible cowboy hat to you, “this ole cowboy has a late dinner date.” He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, hastily shoves his arms into it, gives a wink to you, and heads out without another word.

“Don’t mind him,” Murphy says, “a ‘late dinner date’ is just code for hooker.”

Now it’s your turn to chuckle. Why isn’t he wearing his wedding ring tonight? Maybe he took it off earlier when he was washing the blood from his hands but… No, you don’t remember seeing it then either. You realize he’s looking at you, watching you stare at his fucking hands. He’s gotta know you like his hands, right? It’s not awkward. He’s gotta know.

“That looks painful,” you don’t look away from them. “Was it worth it?”

“I dunno yet,” he goes back to flipping through his papers. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Murphy’s little stunt earlier didn’t just mean his hands were a cut-up mess, it also meant he’d have pulled the short straw to finish the paperwork needed to try and sweep it under the rug. If all went well, and they’d put the right amount of money into the right people’s pockets, he could get away with having beat that snarky reporter’s face in and no one around here would be asking too many questions in the morning. It’s going to be a long night.

You grab the papers off Peña’s desk, carry them to the far end of the office, not your normal desk, and begin typing up his notes into a formal report. Your normal desk was upstairs outside the Ambassador’s office, being one of his attachés meant you traveled with him in-country and helped during his posting at his discretion. You were one of his favorite attachés and that came with a lot of perks; always flying with him and his family in the private jet instead of slumming it in commercial, a plant-covered, sun-lit desk by the window, and always being trusted with the most confidential of orders.

Unfortunately for you, lately, his orders had you spending long-nights with the feckless DEA agents trying to make orderly, lawful reports of their chaotic and illicit methods to catch the narcos. The ambassador trusted few else but you to spin their lawless nonsense into cohesive accounts with diplomatically-acceptable language. You knew your long hours were appreciated - by the Ambassador if by no one else - and you really didn’t have much of a life outside of work, so it wasn’t the worst problem to have. Besides, working late came with its own set of perks.

---

You’re not sure how much time has passed but as you wrap up typing Peña’s chicken-scratch, you look up to see if Murphy is anywhere close to being done only to find him not at his desk. You wait a few minutes and when he still hasn’t returned you get up and walk past it. His desk is more centrally located than the one you were using and from here you can see the whole office. The coffee cup sits empty, the ashtray overflowing, his coat hanging limply from his chair. But no Murphy. You walk towards the main entrance, pass the department secretary’s desk, call out his name, and receive no answer in return.

Just as you’re about to turn and go back to your work, you see just a fraction of movement out of the corner of your eye. The blinds in Messina’s office just beyond the secretarial desk are all closed except the ones covering the window on the door, which are raised just a fraction.

Is he? Again? He must like this more than you thought.

You make your way to the DEA lead’s office door and test the knob - unlocked - just like you knew it would be. Pushing the door open slowly and flipping on the lights has you greeted with a groan. It’s Murphy, sitting on his boss’s leather office couch, cock in hand.

“When we say you DEA boys do nothing but sit around all day with your dicks in your hands, this isn’t what we mean,” you tease. He doesn’t even try to cover himself, doesn’t make a move to hide what he’s doing. This is definitely part of it. He likes this. You’ll have to play your part. “What kind of a man has to jerk off at work? Things really that bad at home?”

He groans again, and you watch his big right hand squeezing himself at the base of his thick cock. You’re not sure how long he’s been in here but he’s apparently just been edging himself, if the ruddy head and pearlescent beads leaking from his tip are any indication. Just based on the size of him you always thought he might have a respectable dick, but the fact that it still looks massive, even in his giant fucking hands, is even more impressive.

“Sorry you had to catch me like this,” he grumbles, as if he didn’t orchestrate this entire scenario for that very reason. He hasn’t resumed touching himself, he just holds it - enormous and erect - like an obelisk of flesh.

“I don’t think you are sorry, you filthy pervert.” You close the door behind you and walk to Messina’s desk, sitting on the edge of it facing him. “I think you fucking love getting caught with that big cock out, don’t you?”

He sucks air and squeezes even tighter as you watch the clear precum flowing out of his slit and running over his flushed head.

“C’mon, Murphy,” you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. “You’d better get it over with before more people walk in here and see that big, fat cock of yours.”

Almost like he was waiting for your permission, he begins pumping himself, using the viscous liquid running down his shaft to lubricate his strokes. You untuck your blouse and pull it off completely, folding it next to you on the desk while you watch him - completely dressed - jerking off. Aside from his loosened tie thrown over his shoulder, he’s still wearing the same outfit he came to work in, not even the blood-spattered sleeves of his rumpled white dress shirt have been rolled up. Just like last time, and each time before that, the only skin he’s showing you are his hands, wrapped around his dick and balls.

You pull your eyes away from what his hands are doing and make eye contact with him, seeing him break away to watch you undo your bra, letting it fall slowly down your arms to reveal your breasts to him. You set it next to you on the desk and sit back on your hands, sticking your chest to the sky. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he speaks.

“Gonna take more than that, honey. Do it like last time.” And there it is, the first time he’s acknowledged that this is a repeat occurrence.

Like last time. You’d thought last time might have gone too far, thought maybe you’d scared him off, especially since it was weeks ago that it’d happened. But apparently not. Apparently it wasn’t too much. Apparently it was just enough… and he’s been thinking about it happening again.

You stand up off the desk, slowly pulling down on the zipper at the back of your skirt, letting your breasts push forwards while your hands work behind you. You watch as he licks his lips, tugging slowly up and down his shaft, gently squeezing his balls with his left hand. You pull your skirt down your legs, folding it and placing it with your other clothes next to you. You stick your fingers in the waistband of your pantyhose and underwear - the only clothes you have left on - and watch him slowly nod his head, eyes glued to your center, ready and waiting.

You slowly pull down your remaining garments, feeling the relative chill of the office air hitting your bare cunt as you bend forward. Once the hose is at your ankles you turn around to brace yourself on the desk, giving him the view you were just denying him. He moans, lowly. You bend forward, a hand on the desk, and slip off each shoe one by one, pulling the hose and your underwear over each foot. You finally stand to place them on the desk with everything else and then turn back to face the couch.

He’s slowed down so much his hand is barely moving now, just brushing languidly over the head of his cock, smearing the steady flow leaking out. You sit back on the desk and slowly, so slowly, spread your legs open. You hear him growl a yeahhh in response. “This what you wanted, Murphy?” You tease.

“You know what I want,” he whines through clenched teeth, “so give it to me.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give me orders, you fuckin’ creep,” you snap, knowing it goes straight to his cock by the way his left hand tightens on his balls.

You oblige him anyways, knowing you need this just as badly as he does at this point. You take the middle finger of your dominant hand and run it up and down your slit, lips parting easily since you’re already so wet. You’ve probably been wet since you noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring earlier. Maybe the rumors about Connie leaving the country were true, maybe his marriage is actually over. So if that’s his excuse for being a horny pervert, what was yours?

You tease your finger over your hole, spreading your legs wider so he can see every slick movement you make. You drag your wetness up to your clit and part your folds with your other hand, drawing smooth circles around your sensitive bud.

“You’d better hurry up, you disgusting deviant, because I’m leaving the second I come,” you command.

You don’t bother to wait for him to look you in the eye to measure your sincerity, you just increase the pace and pressure of your finger and throw your head back, moaning in ecstasy. You can hear him speed up his movements, can hear the sound of skin on skin schlocking quicker as he chases his release. Last time didn’t take long. Last time you got a few circles over your clit and he was coming all over his pale-yellow dress shirt. Last time you had to finish yourself at home, reduced to fantasizing about his cock while you cried out alone in your bed.

The thought has you changing course. Maybe you can actually come this time, if not before him at least the sound of his grunting orgasm could push you over the edge. It won’t be too much, right? He’s gonna get off - again - so why shouldn't you? You drag your fingers back to your hole, leaking wetness down your thighs. He makes a sharp intake of breath. Your head is still thrown back but he’s clearly watching you. You slowly insert two fingers, coating them with your wetness and then pumping them faster in and out.

The sounds of your fingers squelching in and out of your wet hole fill the room now, drowning out his pistoning hand and huffing breaths. It’s probably why you don’t hear him get off the couch, don’t hear him walk to the desk, don't hear him panting right in front of you. You don’t even know he’s there until the heat of his left hand is spanning across the inside of your thigh, halfway between your knee and your core.

You lift your head quickly, a sharp intake of breath instead of a scream, and see his nearly-black eyes watching your faltering hand with rapt attention.

“Can you fit a third?” he rasped. “I bet you can.” Your pussy clenches around your fingers.

You know a snappy quip wouldn’t go amiss but for some reason - with the heat of his hand matching the heat of his gaze - you can’t seem to get one past your lips. You drag your fingers out slowly and line up a third with the other two, already soaked and dripping. Steadily, you insert them back in your greedy hole as he squeezes your thigh - his massive grip taking up an obscene amount of real estate on your leg - and brings himself so close that you can feel his moving knuckles wafting cool air over your wet lips.

His dick is so fucking close. It would be so easy for him to just fucking stick it inside you. But he’s married. That’s what he’d made sure to say the first time… and the second. I’m married, as if it meant anything to you. Just help me out, he’d begged, and you were more than willing. Just a married guy needing a pretty, eager girl to look at. You’d been dreaming about Steve Murphy’s dick since he wore a tight pair of jeans his second week here, and you got a glimpse of the massive bulge he had hidden in them. Well, it was hard to hide, and now you know why.

But then you remember - eyes darting to his left hand, still hot on your skin - he’s not wearing his wedding ring.

“You ever fuck a woman with that cock, Murphy? Or just your hand?”

The sound that comes out of his mouth can only be described as a whimper. He moves his hand up your thigh, closer to where you want it, and squeezes your flesh again. His fist is making practiced moves over his length, starting mid-shaft where his girth widens and pushing up over his crown with fluttering fingers. He’s giving himself pressure on the underside where he’s most sensitive, then gathering the constant stream spilling down his cockhead and over his knuckles, and spreading it out on his downstroke. You feel him press in closer, so close, his eyes not wavering from your fingers plunging in and out of your sopping hole.

Then, it happens.

He’s moved so close that his knuckles graze along your spread lips, hitting right at your clit - four in a row - like the brief kiss of a vibrator. You almost scream. And Murphy notices. Oh, does he notice. Your movements have come to a halt, as have his, and you both wait to see what the other does next. A sly grin settles across his face.

“I thought you were in a hurry?” He taunts.

He pushes his left hand down into your thigh - spreading you open to your limit - and takes his right hand off his dick. He grabs your hand by the wrist, pulling your fingers out of you with a wet, suctioning noise. You watch him put your hand onto his dick, covering it with his much larger hand, and spread your own shocking wetness down and back up his shaft. He lets your hand go but before it can resume its place inside you, he’s closed the gap, pushing his pelvis forward, bouncing his cock against your hooded clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation.

“You’d better hurry up and come, honey, before Javi comes back to see you spread eagle like this.”

“Fuck you,” you manage to choke, hating how he thinks he has the upper hand now.

He stops tapping his rounded head on your sensitive bud and instead rubs himself left to right, the change in movement hitting you like a lightning bolt.

“You’d better come before I do, naughty girl,” he continues to tease, echoing your earlier demand.

“So give it to me,” you answer, echoing his.

He pushes forward, cock held tightly in his fist, and fits his wide head into your hole, making you gasp. You brace for the rest of it - the stretch, the sting - but it never comes. You wiggle your hips, even tilt your pelvis towards him the little bit you can from your position on the desk, and all you feel is his fist hitting your sticky lips.

“Murphy.”

His stupid fucking grin. Hmmmm? He’s watching you struggle.

“Quit playing around,” you whine.

“Quit playin’ around,” he repeats. He lifts his dick upwards, popping it out of its shallow entry, then slowly lines it back up, bumping around clumsily - on purpose - before putting just the tip back inside you.

“Fuck you, Murphy,” you hiss.

“Fuck me?” He repeats the motion of popping himself out, poking around, and then giving you just a fraction of what you know he could be giving you.

“Fuck me, Murphy, fuck me.” You throw your head back as he goes through the motions a third time. “Please, Murphy. Please fuck me.”

He lines himself up again at your weeping hole, but this time you feel both of his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips. He pulls you down onto him and pushes himself up into you in equal measure, slowly but steadily filling you up. You hear him groaning, hear yourself whining, high-pitched and strung-out. You feel the sting, you feel the stretch, you feel the weight of him pressing into you until his pelvis bumps yours. You’re both watching where he’s disappeared into you, the silence stretching on.

“You ready for this big fuckin’ cock, honey?”

“I’ve had bigger,” you lie.

He pulls back quickly and slams forward into you, rocking the desk you lie on, and knocking over a cup of pencils. You both ignore them clattering onto the floor as he pounds into you relentlessly. The wet smacking noise of your bodies clapping together, the huffing groans coming out of both your mouths, the smell of sweat and sex and coffee. He fills you up so perfectly, hitting every place deep inside you that you never even knew existed. It’s so much better than it was in your fantasies. You reach down to touch your clit and this time it’s you that comes after only a few circles around it.

You can’t fucking help yourself. His bloody knuckles turned white with their tight grip at your hips, his furrowed brow and utter concentration - pupils blown large - staring at himself fucking your cunt, his grunts of pleasure as he finally finally gives you his fat fucking cock. You cry out his name, feeling yourself clench around his length, flooding him with your release, hearing the sounds change from lewd to obscene. And you watch his face go from focused to downright pained.

He pulls himself out of you with a snarl and pumps his cock overtop you - coming immediately - white ropes covering your belly. He groans through it, continuing to cover you with a surprising amount, then leans over you and with his cock in hand, rubbing it into your skin with his dick. He rubs his cock back and forth, pumping it lazily, rubbing his sensitive head against your sticky skin and continuing to shudder from the overstimulation. Once he’s squeezed the last of his climax out, he steps back and tucks his dick away into his pants.

---

“Sorry again,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair as you redress on shaky legs. “I really oughta stop doin’ this shit at work. It’s inappropriate, like you said.”

“Uh huhhh,” you answer, unconvinced.

You wish you had it in you to continue this little charade but you’ve just orgasmed all over someone’s desk and your cock-drunk little mind is having difficulty making sense of anything right now. You reach down to slip on a shoe and although you were bracing yourself on the desk, you still begin to tip over. Murphy catches you with a gentle but firm grip, his huge hand curling around your arm and settling you upright. His hand remains holding you, the heat of it burning you through your blouse.

“Maybe next time we can just go to my place,” he purrs, meeting your surprised look with a wink.

Boyd Tax: handsssss

#boyd-a-thon #boydo #fic event #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut #boyd bungalow ☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #narcos fanfiction #mutual

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vaguely-yandere · 2 years

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Hi Chamomile! I wanted to say that I just LOVE ur blog and ur portrayal of yanderes. You don’t know how deflated I get when finding ONLY harmful yanderes in the tags. Ive always loved submissive yanderes and the like because they are SO CUTE!! U make them so LOVABLE AND CUTEEEEE!

Because u are my 1# favorite blog I wanted to share a yandere idea with u that I can’t stop thinking about:

Cowboy yanderes/southern yanderes. LIKE OH MY GAHHH😍 the southern accent, their polite manners (except for when they get rid of their rival and place their body all over the wide open fields they help maintain), the COURTINGGGG. I have this fantasy of like just a darling moving to a southern town because a. They are introverted as heck and don’t like the city and b. They want to live a quiet life by themselves (no family or friends). Just a cute darling that wants to live peacefully until…. The towns sweetheart falls in love with them. Good looks, lovely manners, church goer and helper to all! They are the total catch with suitors just hounding them down! It’s amazing to know that yandere stayed single for so long claiming to be waiting for the “right one” and while their MAY have been a potential suitor that was the best fit for yandere, yandere decided on the anti social newbie. Everyone BEWILDERED as to why yandere claimed this mess of a person as the love of their life, nobody can say it straight to their face tho(yandere SEETHES if anyone speaks I’ll of their darlin’) just this cutie following you around town, helping you carry your bags, opening every door for you, talking to the sales clerk if they have anything in the back if they don’t have it on shelves. I’m sorry I don’t know how to write as good as you do it buuuuuttt I hope I got you into it! Btw is it possible to be heart ❤️ anon? Thank uuuu!!

....... how did you know im southern ┬┴┬┴┤(-_├┬┴┬┴

but i can totally see cowboy yan being an absolute sweetie!! always gushing about you, always trying to help out around your house, inviting you to church or the bar, just so sweet!! and of course people are jealous but everyone knows not to mess with the sweet little cowboy who carries a knife around all the time, owns a few acres of land and is basically the town sheriff.. i mean, not unless you want all the aunties to shame you!!! and also end up tied up to a tree and left for the wild hogs to eat alive.

and theyre just so so nice, gardening for you, taking care of pests, teaching you about the local environment and such, scolding anyone who talks bad about you, basically teaching you how to be southern! you kinda struggle with it at first but with cowboys sweet nature and patience, you get the hang of it! and if you offer to help them with their chores, they might actually faint from happiness (and a bit of heatstroke)

speaking of heatstroke, i imagine youd struggle to adjust to the weather and end up wearing some less than conservative clothes and, well, there isnt anyone close enough to spy on you so why not just hang out in your backyard in barely anything? its hot, theres a nice breeze going, the sun is shining and if you end up falling asleep, no issue! it just gives cowboy yan the perfect opportunity to memorize how pretty you look, maybe try to secretly relieve some of the arousal they feel and get to church to confess how bad they feel, kneeling in front of the stained glass, sweaty with a hot face, hands clasped as they quietly admit their sin. no, not stalking you, silly! you were a gift to them from god! they just felt bad about touching themselves so close to your half naked form and giving into temptation! but they dont feel bad enough to stop themselves from doing it again and again and again!!!

eheheehe and i love imagining you putting their hat on, trying to be flirty and/or funny and just them trying so so hard not to combust as they try to explain what that means! so so cute!!

and gosh, i just love imagining this usually very tough looking, rugged yandere being absolutely whipped for you. fixing things around your house, taking you where ever you want, hell they'll even give you their jacket if you vaguely mention being chilly! and just imagining them getting on their knees in front of you, looking up at you with so much want... its hard not to give em what they want!

#cowboy yandere #asks #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere smut #❤️ darling

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theemporium · 5 months

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Sigh, Tumblr is really out here giving me grey hair 😔

Not to worry, I low-key have the memory of an elephant so I got this

My bigger one is about reader being childhood friends with Zach Bryan and getting introduced to daniel. Since you said you at least knew who he was I decided to ssend it in.

so I don't know if you saw but at Zach Bryans Melbourne show he brought out Daniel and an Irish singer Dermot Kennedy to sing one of his hit songs with him and imagine reader being childhood friends with zach amd being backstage and Zach brings Daniel back to meet you and she's all flirty and typical Oklahoma southern charm and it's the first time Daniels ever been blushing from a lady because usually he's the one making them blush but she's like grinning at how flustered he is because she can just tell he 's getting turned on at like her accent and her cowboy hat and her flirting and maybe at the end when she's like nice meeting you and puts her hat on his head and winks and he's like melting as she walks away

My other one was less in depth, just whispering in rival Max's ear that you're not wearing aany panties on a night out and then just walking away as he gets super turned on and everyone sees and is laughing at his redness

Thank you for taking the time to clarify the issue by the way I appreciate it my luv <<<333

-Tulip.anon

NO STOP BECAUSE FLUSTERED DANIEL WOULD BE SO!!!!!

something about the usually confident guy just becoming a puddle for a woman makes me go FERAL and with daniel, it would be so good

and especially imagining they show up to a grand prix (most likely austin) and the whole grid are watching him become so flustered and shy and they are just shocked at the way she has daniel wrapped around her finger😭

#cece answers #daniel.thots #tulip.anon

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myshiptrashcan · 10 months

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Jalim Ghost town au

just me trying to understand and sort of flesh out the idea

Zain is dead, a ghost.

Jason gets shot a d dies for approximately 7 minutes.

Zain doesn't like Jason, but he can see him. Jason isn't fond of him either. But he won't go away.

Says he needs help. But Jason doesn't give him the time of day and tries to go about his business.

Eventually he gets to him.

"WHAT?!"

"It's my Baba."

In which Zain tells him how when he died his father lost the light in his eyes, lost his passion for life. He was his everything.

"So how'd you die?"

"Quickly." Was Zain's short answer.

"Alright, you're lucky I got a soft spot for kids."

"I'm Not a KID!" Jason only gave him raised brows.

"What do you want me to do about it? Your father, I mean."

And Zain sits down beside him.

"I don't know.... I just want him to be happy. That's all I wanted. I can't help him. All I can do is watch as he dies more and more each day."

Jason was tempted to throw an arm around the kid, comfort him in some way, but then again he'd just go right through him.

"I'll see what I can do but no promises ok?" And Zain lit up.

The next day.

"Alright kid. Where does he live? What's he look like?"

"Badra-Mandali! His name is Salim."

"Othman I'm assuming."

"Yes! He's your height, maybe a little taller. Black hair, dark brown eyes, a soft lovable face, pinchable cheeks, perfect hugger."

"Alright alright kid, I'm not gonna go around and start pinching cheeks and hugging every man I see."

"Not every man, just my Father. "

"He grows pumpkins..... He's let them die since then."

"should I ask around?"

"Wait what am I doing I can just show you. Follow me."

Jason watched as Zain comfortably walked out in front of him. Jason shifting his gaze to each person he passed.

"we're here."

"Now...what?"

"Knock I guess."

"And tell him what, that his dead son wants him to get a life?"

"Figure something out." Zain hissed.

So opens the door Salim looking tired and grey somehow.

Well, here goes nothing.

"Hey, I'm Jason." He starts awkwardly while Salim just gives him an odd look.

"I'm new."

"You just moved in?"

"Yeah." Jason answered lamely.

"You just moved in?"

"Uh, yes? What's the deal?"

"You're an American soldier."

"Marines. Is that a problem?" Jason started to puff up.

"Actually honorably discharged, took a bullet a few months back and I just haven't been the same." Christ! Why did i say that?

There was a silence for a moment.

"Come in, Jason."

"You like coffee?" Salim said already filling the water, and Jason saw Zain sit down at the table.

"Yes please, and thank you. I'll be honest I was a bit nervous to introduce myself."

"And why is that?" Salim hadn't looked over at Jason but Zain did with narrowed eyes.

"I didn't bring a pie."

And to everyones surprise Salim laughed.

Coffees now in hand they drank quietly, Salim looking only fairly less miserable.

"Well I thank ye kindly for the hospitality." Jason stepped out side, putting on an exaggerated cowboy accent. Thumbs in his belt before tipping his hat to Salim.

"I am sorry for not being a very sociable host, I haven't been feeling well." Salim leaned against the door and Jason's smile dropped.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Jason said with a rasp of emotion in his voice, knowing full well what Salim was talking about. The kid was standing right behind him.

"Although it may not have seemed like it, I did enjoy your company. Perhaps sometime soon you can bring over that pie and we can drink coffee again, neighbor."

"Right. Well thank you again, hope you feel better soon. Goodnight."

"It's barely past noon, Jason."

"Uh, yeah, well it'll be night at some point today." And Salim chuckled again at Jason.

"Goodnight then, cowboy."

"Fuck!" Jason cursed when he walked away enough.

"To which part?" Zain said beside him.

"I told him I live here."

"So I heard, tell me which one Is yours?" Zain mocked trying to find Jason's house.

"That's not funny. What am I gonna do?"

"You could you know."

"Could what?"

"Live here, there are plenty of free houses. That one right there looks good."

"Yeah right, Im Not about to go house hunting with some kid."

"It's only a few houses down from Baba's, you'd be close enough to keep an eye on him."

"It's a No, kid. Drop it."

"I'm worried about him."

"Yeah I've heard." Jason scoffed.

"I think he's trying to kill himself. " and that stopped Jason in his tracks.

"What do you mean?"

"The only time he doesn't have that lifeless look in his eyes is when he sees something that could end it..... Jason, I don't want to watch him do that." And there where tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Fuck. Come here kid." He opened his arms and Zain rushed into and through them.

"Shit! Sorry, forgot." Jason grunted after sneezing.

"I hate this. I hate being dead. It's not fair! He doesn't deserve this!" Zain screamed.

"And what about you?"

"This isn't about me, it's about my Baba. So are you going to help him or what?!" There was fire in Zain's eyes.

"Yeah Kid. I'm going to help your Father. You said this one was good?" Jason pointed walking over to the empty house.

"How are you going to pay for it?" Zain sniffed, collecting himself.

"I got a fair bit of cash after my discharge, I can afford it."

So Jason moves in the next day after settling on a price with he seller, he doesn't have much but two boxes to move, and a cot.

"Hey man are you sure about this?"

"It's a bit late now, Nick. Already bought the place." Jason huffed struggling with one of the boxes before Nick took it from him.

"Thanks."

"Are you going to be ok by yourself I mean?"

"I ain't by myself." And Nick tilted his head in question.

Shit! Right, Nick can't see him.

"I've always got you don't I?"

"Always, semper Fi."

"Semper Fi.... Plus I met one of my new neighbors yesterday, nice guy."

"I'll leave yo to then. I gotta get back to camp." Nick threw a thumb over his shoulder.

"I get you. Go on then. And thanks for the help moving. "

"Lucky me you don't own a couch."

They waved and Jason turned back to his new home with a chuckle in his lips.

"That your friend?"

"What's it to ya?"

"He seems nice, I like him."

"So it's just me you don't like?" Jason piped only half serious.

"Is this really all your stuff?" Zain asked looking at the small pile of things by the door.

"Everything I own here. Guess since I'll be staying awhile might as well build it up some." He said rummaging through a box.

"You don't have any food or cooking supplies." Zain mentioned walking around.

"I've got a few days of food right here, should be enough until I get something for the kitchen."

"Like a pie?" Zain smirked at him.

"I'll have you know my mom and her mom and I'm assuming her mom before that all cooked our famous Kolchek Pie for friends and neighbors." Jason pointed a finger at the ghost.

"Famous how?"

"Locally, but I'll have you know that pie has won blue ribbons at every fair it's entered, even made the front page on the paper." Jason lifted his chin to him.

"Slow news day."

"Oh fuck off!"

"So are you going to make it for my father?"

"What?"

"The pie, are you going to make it for him like you said you would?" Zain rolled his eyes.

Jason only glared at the boy before putting his few belongings away.

That night there was a knock at his door.

"Zain, who is it?" Jason whispered out.

"I don't know, open the door a find out yourself." Zain snarked for all the teenager he was.

When he open the door it was Salim standing in the lamp light.

"Salim?"

"Oh, Jason."

"What are you doing here?"

"I made us something to eat, for dinner, to celebrate your new home!" Salim held out a pot he was holding with one kitchen glove and a rag.

"I don't have any silverware, or bowls." Jason said blankly.

"Ah, I could bring some for you to borrow..... Can I come in?"

"Shit, yes, sorry, come in." Jason stepped aside and held the door open for Salim.

"I'll be right back, my friend." Salim said after putting the pot down.

"Your dad, he a good cook?" jason eyed the pot.

"The best." Zain wanted to growl

"I'll take your word for it then."

Salim came back with his arms full.

"Two cups, two forks, two spoons, bowls, plates. I trust they'll be well cared for?"

"On my honor." Jason held a hand over his heart and a hand in the air.

"That a Marine thing?"

"Sort of, it's more a me thing though."

"On your honor then." Salim eyed, before setting up the table.

"I gotta tell ya Salim, this is a lot better than the meal I had planned." Jason said happily as he ate.

"Which was?"

"Let me see " he leaned over to grab a flat box.

"This says chili Mac, and I've got a dry cracker."

"You were really going to eat that?"

"It's all I got for now. Then there you come like and Angel sent from heaven with your hands full of this delicious stew." Jason chirped giving a grin and a friendly wink.

"It's made from the last of my pumpkin harvest." Salim seemed to look through his spoon.

"Best damn pumpkin I've ever had, and that's sayin something."

"Why's that?"

"Not sure If you could tell, but I grew up in a small town of house wives and farmers. Too much time and too much food."

"I never would have guessed!" Salim laughed.

"It's true! And we had fairs a plenty! Nobody wanted their blue ribbons like us Kolcheks, and nobody had as many either!"

Notes:

(Jason's own father had hung himself when he was a teen, he never knew why, never thought that his father was unhappy. That's why when Zain said he was worried about Salim it changed his mind about helping. Jason was the one to find his father, he doesn't want the same thing to happen to Zain, he's just a kid after all.

Also Jason accidentally breaks Salim's plate and he is freaking out about it. He shows up at Salim's door, shoulders sagging and he's low. The broken plate on his bloody hands. He's sobbing about being sorry he broke it, it was an accident, if he could fix it or buy him ten knew plates. Salim at this point doesn't care and is worried about Jason's bleeding hands. Pulls him inside and asks what happened. Jason says he was washing them when his side starting hurting sending him to the floor in pain, out of breath and being unable to see for a moment. When the pain lessened the plate was broken at his hand were all cut up.

Jason is also worried he'll see the ghost of the girl he and Nicky shot, about how the next time a situation like that happened he hesitated, the part of camp slayer was bombed and more showed up to shoot. People died and Jason got shot. He didn't make the right call twice now both times lives were lost needlessly, this is something he tells Salim far later into the story. Jason doesn't sleep well at all.

Eventually Zain shares why he thinks he may have deserved to die, how he was a bad son. How his father gave him everything, loved him more than anything, was proud and caring and how Zain still managed to fuck things up. How he would steal. He's not sure why he does it and that it could cause real problems for him and his father if he's caught. How for some reason he wanted to be as far away from his father as he could, just because he would get into arguments over him stealing. He didn't mean it. Zain cries when telling this to Jason. He misses being alive, being with his father.

Not sure how Zain died though.

Salim gets better and Jason is falling HARD for Salim. And it scares him. Something happens, Jason is pushing Salim away, you know, some angst, zain isn't happy about that.

Angst happens Jason dies, he's saved, he bakes a pie once recovered and knocks on Salim's door with it in hand.

"Howdy, Neighbor. I baked you a pie." )

Anyway that's what I got so far for the idea. I finally got to watch Ghost Town again, so. Yeah.

#house of ashes #hoa salim #hoa jason #my writing #hoa Zain #suicide mention #hoa ghost town au #Jalim

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hangmanstigerlily · 2 years

Text

The Sky, The Shore, and The Sea

I am a new writer here on Tumblr. I used to write and never post my writings....and here we are. Please let me know what you guys think!

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Named OC (Callsign is TigerLily) Warnings: None at the moment, it’s just some angst and more of a drabble, there will be future mentions of death...if future parts are wanted or I post them! Jake has a serious thing for Bianca, an old friend of Rooster and Maverick. But what will he do about it? Bianca is definitely hiding her past from everyone except Rooster who knows why. Rooster tries to help get them together and of course may lead to messing up his friendship in the process. (This work isn’t done, I just wanted to see what people thought of it! Enjoy!)

Also, I do not give permission to copy this work or any of my future work! But please if you enjoyed it, reblog and let me know! I’m really nervous about posting stuff!!

“I honesty don’t know what to do Bradley” Bianca took another sip of her beer as she looked at her friend and glanced back over at Hangman chatting up a storm with a petite blonde at that bar, while he waited for another round of drinks for the Dagger Squad. She had been falling for Jake “Hangman” Seresin more everyday since she met him at Rooster’s Halloween party last year.

“Bianca! I’m so glad you could make it!” Rooster yelled over the loud music playing. He was dressed as a cheesy vampire complete with the teeth and spiderweb collar. “You look ridiculous Bradley!” She laughed and playfully hit his arm. “You’re one to talk!” He laughed as he hugged her. She had settled on dressing like a tiger, an omage to her old call sign, complete with a tail and ears. She knew of his callsign, heck she knew everyone’s callsign thanks to their almost everyday conversations but nobody knew she had ever been a pilot or have a callsign. Bianca knew Rooster from Top Gun and through a family friend, Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, her herself had passed the captains test but had stepped down because of a bad mission and accident, though only Bradley and Pete knew that part. He introduced her to everyone, joining Phoenix and Bob on the dancefloor, laughing.

“Well what do we have here? What’s your name tiger?” A deep, southern accented voice cut through the surrounding sounds of the party and music. Bianca’s heart flipped slightly at the stranger calling her tiger, spinning and crashing into a strong body donned with a button-up plaid shirt, she looked up into gorgeous green eyes. His bright smile almost took her breath away as he winked. “I’m Bianca, a friend of Bradley!” She yelled at him. “What’s your name cowboy?” She said loudly, glancing up at the black cowboy hat on his head. “Name’s Jake, but most call me Hangman” She looked at him quizzically at the callsign. So this was Hangman, the cocky, self-assured pilot, the one Bradley had warned her about being a womanizer. But hell if she was gonna pass on getting close to him.

One thing she knew was that she didn't swoon easily. “You wanna dance?” She asked boldly as she continued to hold his gaze. “Thought you’d never ask darlin’.” Rooster looked at the two and hummed in annoyance as Hangman put his hands on Bianca’s hip as they danced to the music. “Jealous?” Phoenix nudged his arm. He shook his head “No, I just know that look she gave him, something I'd seen her give past guys she likes. I know her all too well and I certainly know that Hangman is going to hurt her.” Phoenix looked at them. “But maybe she’ll take some of that cockiness out of him, she seems alot different from your typical girl.” Rooster just nodded in agreement.

Bianca and Jake couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, hanging out for most of the night. He was cocky all right, but maybe that’s what she liked about him. He reminded her of how she was at Top Gun before her accident. Jake’s head was full of thoughts, mostly of Bianca. She was like a bright flame that he was drawn to. He was so enthralled by her, he walked her to her car but was confused when she didn’t try to kiss him. Even if she didn’t, he couldn’t stop thinking about her long after the party.

Jake glanced over at Bianca as she took a drink from her beer at the Hard Deck. The blonde was chatting up a storm with him as he politely responded. Sure he would take the number she offered him but lately, he wasn’t feeling like his usual self. Studying Bianca when she looked over at Rooster, he thought of nothing but wanting to capture her attention, he wanted her near him in any capacity and if that only meant as a friend, he would have to settle for that, but it still didn’t stop the rush in his system every time he heard her voice, saw her, or saw her looking at him. He took the paper, put it in his pocket and nodded at Penny and the girl. “I’m sorry…was it Monica? I’m not really interested, but thank you” He smiled again and turned away, walking back over with the four beers in his hand. Penny glanced at him and laughed slightly as the girl paid and left, no doubt feelings hurt over Hangman’s rejection.

“....maybe try talking to him about it?” Rooster glanced up at her as he played pool, realizing she may have not even heard half of what he said. She shook her head, scoffing slightly, not asking him to repeat the first part of his statement as she had been lost in thought. “Oh yeah, ruin our friendship and never live down confessing to him” She looked back over at Hangman, he flashed the blonde another one of his blindingly bright, cocky grins and slipped the paper into his pocket before picking up the beers and sauntering back over to the pool tables. Her heart did a flip as his gaze settled on her, trying her best to look slightly bored, finishing her drink. Damn him and his good looks.

“Guess who scored again!” Hangman’s words came out with a slight drawl as he passed out the beers. “Let me guess, another notch for your ever growing belt Bagman?” Rooster stated, slight annoyance seeping into his voice. “Don’t be mad because you don’t have my level of game, Rooster.” Jake chuckled and picked up the pool cue to take his turn. “Whatever” Rooster muttered and glanced over at Bianca who seemed to be lost in thought again, staring off into space. Hangman hated keeping up the appearance that he was getting girls' numbers and actually calling them but as soon as he stopped, they would know something was up. He had never cared about another person like Bianca before and it scared him to change ways so suddenly.

Bianca stood up and stretched, “I’m gonna go guys. Got to stop by the restaurant tomorrow morning before dogfight football. I’ll see you at the beach.” She hugged Bob and Phoenix first, then Rooster, and then Hangman. She was slightly surprised when he didn’t let go right away, her hands gently played with the hair at the nape of his neck, holding onto him as tight as he was to her. Her face was pressed into his shoulder and could smell the mix of spice and sandalwood, no doubt the cologne he didn’t use often. But why did he today? He felt her tighten the hug, burying his face more into her neck and hair, she smelled like her perfume, a mix of vanilla, cardamom, and a hint of coffee. She breathed in his cologne slightly, before pulling away, trying to disperse the blush on her cheek with a chuckle. “You know I’ll see you tomorrow Jake, you act like I’ll disappear before then” He smiled that brilliant smile again at her “Maybe I just like feeling you against me, darlin’.” He winked. “Sure Bagman” She waved as she left the bar.

“You know, you can just tell her right? That you love her? You’ve been like a puppy following her around. You spend a lot of time looking at her. Who knows, maybe she even likes you back." Rooster looked at him, seeing the moment that had just occurred in front of him. Hangman looked at him “I don’t know what you are talking about Bradshaw '' He shrugged and walked over to the jukebox. Rooster watched him and took notice of him tossing the paper with the girl's number on it in the trash, trying to be nonchalant about it. Liar. Rooster thought. Phoenix glanced at Rooster "you think we need to step in and help?" Rooster nodded, pressing his lips together, only knowing of one way to do that, bring up the past and push her towards Hangman, but he had to do it alone because only himself, Maverick, Bianca’s mom, and Penny knew who she really was.

He hated the idea of doing that. But he knew one way that would bring back her memories. Maverick had salvaged her plane, the Tempest and had restored it in a hangar on base. It was going to be a surprise for Bianca’s 30th birthday in December. She loved that plane, it had been her dad's and had been given to her. In her first mission though she had been shot down over the ocean and there were bad memories attached to that plane as well. Bradley pulled out his phone and told her to be ready in the morning, he would pick her up, take her to the restaurant and then he had a surprise for her. He swallowed hard as she agreed, this would hurt her and hurt their friendship, he knew it.

#topguncortez #look I finally posted some fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #new writer #sorry if this sucks #please me merciful tumblr gods

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starliights-shining · 1 year

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Liked the hcs! they're amazingly done!

Maybe a sfw scattershot hcs? :)

Helllloo, I’m glad you liked the head cannons! As requested, Scattershot hcs! Once again feel free to request some more! Sorry for the late posts, I got caught up in the RE4 remake and i just wanted to see my human husbadn for a whiole, but anyways Enjoy :)

Scattershot to me is like a country boyfriend to me, thinks you look cute in cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Too bad hes more of a space cowboy then a western one, but that aint stopping him.

I feel like he enjoy having you in his alt mode, either while your both hanging out or on a mission. He just like to have you close, if hes not in his alt mode, i feel like hes one to like sit you on his shoulder, just to have you close.

I feel like he has these like "i want to be a father" moments when he sees you with bud and the other kids. It really kicks him into this whole, must protect, must achieve, must love mode. AND that is just tooooooo fucking cute. Space cowboy father!!!!! enough to make a grown woman cry.

If you're from the south or country side, i feel like he would enjoy listening to you talk a whole lot. Would ask random questions just to hear you speak. AND if youre from some other country other than the US, he'd still do the same thing, i feel like he enjoys accents simply beacuse he doesn't know Earth like that, his reading and technology can only give him so much about a planet and its people.

Sing, sing to him in a native tounge or with an accent or just anything. I feel like he really enjoy Earth music, he thinks it's different and cool, enjoys the different genres. This one also goes along with the like loves your voice. He just loves you.

I like to think he doesn't want you around Hot Shot or Override or both. Thinks they can be dangerous, considering how the mission with Hot Shot on the speed planet went. If the humans are split up, you are always with him, especially if they try putting you with Hot Shot.

During missions, he tucks you behind him, like places his foot in front of you and acts like you are as large as him. He trys to avoid putting you in spots he knows you cant run from or away during.

I feel like I say it for everyone, but he has this sevre fear of losing you, but it only kicks in during fights. Like he can't die, because he has to take care of you, and if hes gone who will you rely on. How'd keep you company. It HAS to be him.

I also feel like he wishes he was smaller, just so he could hold you correctly, like they do in all the TV shows you watch. He lowkey feels a little guilty he's not smaller. Wishing he could feel you hands hold onto his fully, wishing he could feel you warmth and weight on his own frame. But he never lets it stop him form loving you the way he does, and at this point you dont want anyone else to love you the way he does. He's simply the only one you want and like, so no need for change.

One more, I feel like if they ever are like Bye bye earf, then he'd try his bed to convince the others to take you with them. OPtimus would be in disapproval, but he'd still try. Optimus may be the leader of the autbots, but youre the leader of his heart.

#transformers cybertron #transformers #tf #transformers scattershot #scattershot #scattershot x reader #transformers g1 #transformers x reader #tf x reader #tf cybertron x reader #tf cybertron #scattershot scattershot scattershot scattershot #cybertron #stars hcs

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polyghostfacehours · 3 years

Note

I am incapable of coming up with words for your beautiful mind, sorry for the spam, but saw you wanted to write a bit so... enby reader coming out to the boys maybe? Or a hc bit for like what they’d do for a one year anniversary with gn/enby reader... if your comfortable with either of these, your fics are amazing (is it okay if I use the 🐉 emoji to sign off?)

Yes, the dragon emoji is yours for the taking! Have a coming out drabble to two dumb 90's boys. I'm not enby so I have no idea if this is good, but I hope I did it justice!

Poly!Ghostface x NB!Reader

"I, uh, I still don't get it, really. If you're not a girl or a guy, what are you?"

You sigh, and rub your temples at Stu. You knew sitting them down and explaining this to them would require some work, but between your anxiety at coming out and their confused faces, you were this close to just calling it a night.

Billy, despite also not quite understanding, reached out hesitantly towards your hand in an effort to comfort you. He didn't really know what to say, but he knew that Stu was riding on your last nerves with his lack of tact. He expression was far off, a look you were familiar with: it meant he was deep in thought.

Stu kept leaning back in his chair, one foot propped on the table tilting himself back and forth, both arms behind his head. One might read his demeanor as lackadaisical, but you knew it was just because he didn't know what else to do with himself; how else to react. You try again.

"Again, I just...don't feel like the gender binary has ever...fit me. Male, female, it just never clicked. I'm much more comfortable being referred to in the most gender neutral way possible. Like, for example, I always felt most at home when I would overhear people refer to me as 'they' or 'them' in a conversation..."

You look up at them again to take in their reactions. At some point Billy had snapped back out of his thoughts and was staring intensely at you. Stu was also now no longer leaning back, opting instead to put his elbows on the table, his hands in his face as he listened to you. A moment of silence follows, and you can feel your heart attempting to escape your near rattling ribcage.

"...'They'? So you want us to refer to you as 'they'?" Billy pipes up. Your eyes slide to him as you bite your already raw lip and nod, desperately hoping he wouldn't try and convince you otherwise. You know how Billy could get when it came to getting his way. He gives one last blank look and nods.

"Okay."

You and Stu turn to him in surprise and he shrugs.

"I don't really understand it either, but it's clearly important to you. I don't mind."

It's the bare minimum, but you can't help the smile that breaks on your face and you feel yourself tearing up. Never one to be left out, this prompts Stu to also sit up at attention and speak, a playful grin on his lips.

"Same, same. 'They' it is, babe. So do we still call you our (girlfriend/boyfriend) too or...?"

You chuckle and smile, shaking your head "I'd prefer just something like 'partner' instead."

A glint in Stu's eye almost has you retracting your statement, and in the worst country accent he could possibly muster, he tilts a fake cowboy hat towards you and replies.

"Alright then....pardner!"

You laugh an 'Oh my god' and Billy groans, punching Stu in the shoulder as the taller of the two sticks his tongue out and cackles at his own quip. Before you know it, the tears that had been welling in your eyes begin streaming down as all the tension in your shoulders is released.

The duo look over in surprise, but upon seeing that you weren't crying because you were upset, they get up from their chairs and move to your sides. Sensing their intentions, you stand up and allow them to wrap their arms around you. Stu showers you in kisses as Billy opts to just slowly sway you back and forth.

The warmth from their bodies and the smells of their cheap colognes lulls you, and after awhile the exhaustion of the day catches up and hits in one fell swoop. A long, drawn out yawn leaves your mouth, and your head lolls onto Stu's chest. Taking the opportunity, Billy looks over at Stu and speaks softly.

"Let's get them to bed, Stu."

You smile.

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

I actually wanted to request something for the soulmate au but I couldn’t think of anything 😭 so a real cute one would be whiskey x reader and you can hear you soulmate sing. It was on the list but idk the number

Celeste! Thanks for forcing me to face my feelings about this man having a high school sweetheart in his backstory. Hope you enjoy my take on it!

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: brief mentions of trauma?

It started at a different time for everyone, but that didn’t stop you from wondering if maybe you didn’t have a soulmate at all.

Of course, this phenomenon was so thoroughly beyond reason, that there was no indicator that this would be true. Some didn’t hear the first song of their life partner until they were elderly and built relationships without it.

You best friend first heard her soulmate’s singing when she was just seven, blessed to spend most of her life in connection. She would tell you stories about her soulmate’s voice, how it had become a comfort, even a thread of communication for them. And you were there when they first met, in college, you watched her whip around, whispering “I know that voice!”

When the two of you were young, you’d speculate. Maybe their singing voice was embarrassing? What if they were shy? What if you were a secondary soulmate? It was fun, but over time, she would just squeeze your hand, and wait by your side.

Time had wandered on, and you had come to terms with it. It wasn’t that you were calloused, per se, but you had learned it wasn’t worth losing sleep over. You were working on loving the life you built for yourself, after all, and there wasn’t anything you could do to bend fate.

But you cried when you first heard him.

Of course, you’d been under your table, trying to grab a runaway orange when the baritone filled your ears. Everyone had always told you the first time was overwhelming, but you hadn’t expected it to give you a mild concussion – you jerked right into the table. The tears weren’t from pain, though, but from joy in hearing it. It was a man, with an accent, and a voice that was warm and gravely and filled you from the top of your throbbing head to you toes.

The first time Jack heard you, he cried too.

A second chance? A second soulmate? It had been unthinkable.

But his mind was being filled with something sweet and rich and wonderful and for three minutes, it kept his confusion and guilt at bay.

The exact amount of time he needed to close his files, put everything safely away, and walk to the office of the Statesman’s counselor.

Part of him didn’t want to wait – he had half a mind to quit that day and go searching for you. It didn’t seem beyond reason to try to steal some of the organization’s tech to make it easier either, but after an hour of talking through it, he decided to start a little slower.

Jack made a playlist of all his favorite songs, unable to stop himself from throwing in some silly, fun ones. He would sing to you, first every evening on his way home, and then whenever he could. Once a week, he’d sit down in the little corner office and let himself acknowledge that for the first time in years, the romantic ones made his heart ache in a good way.

Listening to you on in the morning, hearing your voice become less tired, and letting it sink into his soul became his favorite part of the day. It seemed like you didn’t mind the pace, either, happy enough that the ball was finally rolling.

But, as it does, after just five weeks, fate gave it a push.

In the office, there were rooms filled with monitors, and people to watch the hidden cameras all around the world. Jack didn’t spend a lot of time in these rooms, hating the headaches the screens gave him, and the overload of visuals. He needed the information directly though, planning to meet another agent on the street for the takedown, so he was stuck hovering by.

The camera he and the tech were watching was in a taxi. First, the target climbed in, and they turned on the audio as the undercover driver tried to get some information out of him. It went as planned, until another passenger climbed in and Jack’s heart nearly stopped dead. Even through the speakers something about your voice – murmuring your destination – was making his senses scream. His ears burned, trying to determine if the warped voice he was hearing matched yours.

The target and agent were completely ignored as one of his songs came on the radio. He watched, enraptured as you paused, almost like you couldn’t resist, and started singing with it, quietly. The others in your shared space were annoyed, but your voice filled his ears, as well as crackling into the room, and when you added a little twang to one of the worlds it was all over.

Jack had never moved so fast in his life.

He was supposed to meet the driving agent in a minute, anyway, but he flung himself on the streets weaving desperately towards the corner of the block.

You had stopped singing, embarrassed as the two men in the taxi glared at you. It was just a song that gave you so much happiness you hadn’t thought about singing aloud, but there was something clearly going on. The car slowed to a stop at the corner, and you unbuckled yourself, telling the driver you’d just get out here. As you opened the door, however, a handsome, panicked man on the outside pushed it close. Panic rose in your throat, confusion outweighed by the sudden movement of the other passenger. It wasn’t his stop either, but he was yelling and throwing himself out of the car at a sprint.

Your door opened again, and you found yourself face to face again with the handsome stranger, intensity in his gaze.

“Darlin, do not go anywhere,” he said, in the voice you’d been hearing every evening, before he was gone, chasing after his target.

You were frazzled. Cars were honking, at some point your driver had gone missing, too, and you were pretty sure you just met the love of your life. You didn’t know what to do. After a moment of calming breaths and fidgeting, you climbed out of the taxi, closing the doors and turning on the hazard lights. Hovering on the corner sidewalk seemed just as safe as sitting in the backseat of an immobile car on angry streets, anyway.

Then there was a warm hand over your eyes and as you nearly jumped out of your skin, you heard is voice, singing the song you’d been singing minutes before; his song. You grabbed his hand, turning around eagerly, to see the handsome (now slightly scruffier) stranger. Behind him the other two men were trailing, one in handcuffs, but you hardly noticed them.

“Hello,” you said, almost laughing. His eyes were as warm and eager as his voice, which stopped singing, and he was already moving to hold you. “Is this going to be my life, now that you’ve found me?” You gestured loosely.

His broad shoulders shrugged, and the adrenaline must have been wearing off. For all he was clearly a hero who just got the bad guy, he looked awfully nervous. You gently pushing his cowboy hat up and ducked under it, so your faces were close.

“Next time, I won’t go anywhere either,” you said. His smile was broad and happy, both of you well aware of the subtext.

“Thank you, darlin.”

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @0celestialbitch0 @scribbledghost

#can you tell i could've made this way longer?#yes #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #kingsman #thoughts from elle #maybe i don't know people #soulmate requests #maybe i'll make a part 2?

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 3 years

Text

A Match Set

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Benny Watts x Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in New York, you and Benny Watts are drawn to each other. As you go through different experiences with one another, you grow closer until it finally gets to be too much for Benny.

Word Count: 1890

Warnings: none

Notes: aye this is my first fic because there is a serious lack of benny watts fics and i had to change that for myself. this will probably be multiple chapters that can be read separately.

It was your first art gallery, and you were both anxious and overjoyed to see people surveying your work. You had put so many hours into each piece and all kinds of people had poured in to look. It was a well known gallery, but the variety still surprised you. You looked around and saw some interesting characters, but your interest was piqued when your eyes fell upon a particular cowboy.

He was inspecting one of your favorite paintings which had chess pieces as the subject. The pieces merely served as part of a metaphor in your art, as the game and all its complexities had never really been your thing. As you looked closer at the man you realized that, not only had his outfit sparked your interest, but he seemed familiar too. Out of curiosity, you walked over and stood next to him.

“What are your thoughts?” You asked, motioning towards the painting.

His initial expression showed surprise that you were talking to him, but he recovered quickly, saying, “It’s good. I think the artist has talent.” You felt a bit of pride hearing that. You opened your mouth to say thanks, but you decided not to reveal yourself. You wanted him to give his honest opinion without fear of offending you.

“So do you like chess?” He nodded to the painting. Hearing this you made the connection as to why you remembered seeing him before. Your father owned a little bookshop back home and you were looking into chess for the same painting you were discussing right now. You had seen this cowboy on the back of one of those books, but you hadn’t given it another thought, never actually expecting to meet him. You decided not to reveal this information either and continued with the conversation.

“I can play a modest game. You?”

“I can play a modest game.” He had a small smile as he shrugged.

“Your first lie.” You said smirking back.

He looked confused but curious, so you explained about your research, your fathers bookshop, the whole story. He puffed up a bit after hearing that, looking impressed that you knew who he was.

“What’s your name?” He asked, still curious.

“Y/n” you replied.

“Nice name. I’m Benny, but you already seem to know who I am. On the other hand I don’t know anything about you.” He reached out his hand to shake yours.

“You walk in here with a black trench coat but you make me out to be the mysterious one,” you smirked as you took his hand. He chuckled a bit, and after your introduction, you asked why he was here.

“My friend knows the artist actually. She told us we had to see her work before going out.” You hummed as you thought about what to say, but he interjected.

“I don’t usually do this, and I’m not sure why I’m doing this now, but maybe you’d consider coffee with me. I won’t tell anymore lies” he joked.

You laughed a little, mildly shocked. “you’re not sure why? That’s flattering” you teased.

“Not what I meant-“ but before you could come to a conclusion on his sudden offer, you heard an excited french accent.

“Y/n! Im so proud! You finally got to show off all that talent!” Your friend Cleo ran up to you and wrapped her arms around you. You hadn’t seen her since you lived in France for a few months and you had missed her. You left for France after you realized you weren’t really needed at home, so you dedicated yourself to trying to soak up some culture. She looked gorgeous like you remembered, fitting for a model. You continued your reunion embrace for a moment before she waved her arms to the men and woman behind her. She introduced the friends she had brought to your show as Arthur, Hilton, and Annette, who all smiled at you. Cleo paused to turn to the cowboy saying, “I see you’ve already met Benny.”

“Yeah we met,” he said, “but I didn’t know this was your work. I would’ve told you how impressed I am.” Your cheeks turned a light pink at the praise.

“Look at Benny, impressed with someone besides himself for once.”Cleo poked fun and the group let out a laugh.

“Hey I’m not a narcissist or anything, don’t listen to Cleo,” Benny made excuses to you, only mildly offended.

“Sure you aren’t. I have nothing against narcissists,” you jokingly assured him. This answer didn’t comfort the man who had essentially just asked you on a date.

You and Cleo continued to catch up and you talked more with her friends as well. Benny just stood next to you, and you caught him glancing at you once or twice, but you just ignored it. Eventually you agreed to go out for drinks with the group, walking with them to a bar a couple blocks down called Hal’s.

You all squeezed into a booth while Arthur went off to get drinks. You sat on the outside, watching the people out on the floor next to you giggling and dancing. Having a couple of drinks beforehand must’ve contributed to the large amount of people out there, you thought. Arthur eventually announced his return by laying a tray of drinks in the middle of the table.

You were all conversing and sipping on your drinks when Annette decided she wanted to dance. Cleo agreed enthusiastically, but the rest of us refused. She suggested we all take shots to make it easier, but once again we tried to turn her down. she pleaded, “come on guys, it’s a Saturday night, and you can’t possible lose something from it. Have a little bit of fun with me!”

We relented, having a feeling that she wasn’t going to give up any time soon. She gave a little clap and handed out the shots. You knocked yours back with everyone else and grimaced at the bitter taste. Shaking it off, you slid out of the booth so the others could get out. You moved back into your spot after they all made their way to the throng of people. You decided you would join them later, but you liked to observe first. You looked over and the only two left were you and Benny. You slid over to him, not wanting to sit awkwardly on the other end like he wasn’t there.

“I bet you five bucks that lady is bored out of her mind.” He pointed to a blonde on a date across the bar, “Either she’s an alcoholic or she’s trying to tune out baldie.” You looked at the woman and saw she was surrounded by empty glasses while the man in front of her seemed like he was boasting endlessly. You both started making observations about the various people in the bar. Most of them were snarky comments that you whispered into each other’s ears, giggling, but you also created imaginary lives for them, guessing who they were and how they got here. After sharing a couple laughs, you sighed and reached a comfortable lull before Benny brought up what you knew was coming.

“So have you thought about my earlier question?” He eyed you seriously all of a sudden, but you didn’t feel any pressure. He seemed the type of confident where he thought you would say yes, but he could recover if you said no.

You weighed in your impression of him. He was cute, with fluffy hair and nice eyes that were a kind of chocolate color. He was funny and you he seemed intelligent (I mean he had to be, he played competitive chess). Albeit his trench coat and hat were a bit eccentric, but that wasn’t a bad thing, in fact you found it attractive.

“So have you?” He asked again, leaning his head in.

“Oh uh” you hadn’t realized while you were thinking that you had zoned out looking at him. Clearing your throat you said, “I’m free for coffee.” You stopped, “But you have to wear the hat.”

“Wouldn’t leave home without it” he winked.

Suddenly you were shoved against him as your tipsy friends barreled back into the booth.

“We should probably join them” you said as you moved off him, pushing one of the leftover drinks towards him. He nodded and you both drank some more just to get on the same level as your friends.

“You two haven’t even danced! I saw you whispering. Too busy flirting?” Annette smiled as she slurred a few of her words. You just looked down, cheeks pink, leaving Benny to respond.

“How were you watching us when you were dancing with that guy, the one who looks like he’s only ever kissed his mother.”

“No, I’m sure he’s kissed other people! I mean he did seem young but...” Annette looked over to the guy she dragged to dance with her earlier. He stood sheepishly in the corner, looking like he hadn’t outgrown his baby fat yet, and was definitely not a city type. “He’s just shy!” She defended, but me and Benny just looked at each other, falling into giggles. You figured out that night that Annette was one of those drunks who got a little childish, but she was sweet.

You would’ve been content to keep hanging out with Benny, if it hadn’t been for Cleo who grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the dance floor. You looked back at Benny, but gave in and allowed her to twirl you into the crowd. You were having a good time with Cleo, Hilton and Arthur dancing on either side of her. You were soon out of breath, but didn’t mind, enjoying it all.

You had moved to the city a couple months ago, but hadn’t had time to make friends, focusing on your work and setting up your apartment. You missed having company, people who were fun and interesting.

You continued to move to the beat of the song until you bumped into someone. You looked back to see Benny smiling next to you. You smiled back and let him in to the little circle you and your friends had created. You felt a little warm, not from the dancing, but from being close to him.

After fifteen minutes you were all tired and made your way to the booth to gather all your things up and pay the bill. You walked out of the bar and into the chilly night air, grateful for the residual body heat that came from all the dancing. You hugged Cleo and your new friends goodbye as took turns getting into taxis and headed towards their homes. Hilton offered to wave you down a taxi too, but you declined, explaining that your home wasn’t a far walk. He shrugged and gave you another hug before climbing into the yellow car. Once again it was just you and Benny.

“Just the two of us again huh?” He spoke, and he definitely didn’t sound turned off by the idea.

“Fate I guess.”

“Sure” he said casually.

“Do you not believe in fate?” You asked. You weren’t a firm believer in the idea but something in his tone made you curious.

“I’ve had this debate before I think. I’m not sure, but I’d like to figure it out. How about you?” He said. You imagined him having a lot of debates. You had just met him, but he seemed to fall into the intellectual category. They always kept things interesting, and frequently offered new perspectives.

“I mean everything’s gotta mean something, there has to be a purpose. I just don’t know if we make our own purpose or if we’re given a purpose; fate.” You mused, not meaning to get existential. He didn’t seem to mind.

“You seem like the type to want to figure things out too.” He said ‘too’. So you and him both liked to do that. You added that to the growing list of things you liked about him.

“I guess I am.” He had a pleased look on his face and you just shrugged as you started to say goodbye.

“Wait” he grabbed your arm, “I heard you say you didn’t live far, I could walk you.” Before you could protest he told you, “it wouldn’t be a big deal, I heard you tell Hilton where you lived, we’re in the same direction.”

You agreed, finding yourself wanting to talk to him more. He offered you his arm casually and you laughed to yourself a little at the gesture, taking it anyway. You walked down the sidewalk, talking and laughing. You felt comfortable as you felt like you leveled with him. It seemed like too short of a walk as you suddenly found yourself at the door of your apartment building.

“Guess this is goodnight.” Benny said as you both stood on the sidewalk.

“What about coffee?” You asked.

“Glad you remembered. I’ll pick you up at twelve tomorrow, we can make it lunch. I’ll pick you up.” He said it decidedly, like it was just a fact. Something you noticed he did often.

“Ok then. Lunch. Tomorrow. Am I forgetting anything?” You said as you stepped halfway into the doorway.

“If you are we can figure that out later. I’ll see you.” He waved with a slight smile.

You waved back and smiled in return, watching him walk away before closing the door. You sped up to your apartment, letting yourself finally feel the excitement and anticipation of going out. You stripped off your clothing as soon as you got in and flopped on your bed, feeling sort of giddy. You felt like you and Benny were connected, though you had barely met him. As you laid down you smiled to yourself, looking forward to tomorrow.

#benny watts #benny watts x reader #the queen’s gambit #beth harmon #benny watts fanfiction #fan fiction

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hispipsqueak · 3 years

Text

Your Cowboy

(Ushijima x F!Reader) NSFW

Summary

Ushijima and you have been happily married for a while and everything is perfect. But sometimes, you just want more.

A/N : Was this written just to satisfy my deep desire to see Ushijima in a cowboy hat? Yes. Am I mad about it? NO! (Also, if you have any Ushi dressed as a cowboy, my inbox is open ;) )

TW: daddy kink, unprotected sex, rougher sex (not BDSM, but rougher than usual), Ushi in a cowboy hat

Ushijima was, in all aspects, an incredible husband.

He loved you and spoiled you with beautiful gifts, because you were his treasure. He would come home to you cooking dinner and wrap his arms around you, pressing soft kisses to your neck before he would go shower and you never felt neglected. He was devoted, handsome, sweet, loving, the whole nine yards.

There was just one tiny little issue.

Ushijima was a little...vanilla.

The sex was amazing, don’t get it wrong, but it was always too perfect. Too sweet and pure. He would kiss down your body and tell you he loved you while rocking you gently on his cock. Missionary, loving...but always the same.

It was nice, but sometimes you just wanted something a little wilder. Ushijima was a large guy and sometimes you wish he would slam you on the bed, or wrap his large hands around your throat. You wanted him to...well, to put it plainly, to fuck you.

But you knew Ushi wasn’t really that type of guy, so you decided to meet your needs virtually. He had just left to work and you headed back to bed with your laptop, scrolling through a porn site.

“Why does every girl in these videos look like they are being tortured? Pass...incest? Eughh...pass. No, no, God no, no...wait.” You muttered before finding stopping on a video titled “Back in the Saddle.”

You clicked on it and some cheesy western music started playing before a buxom blonde girl in denim shorts came on screen talking in an overexaggerated southern accent, in an old style saloon. You were about to click away to continue your search when the man walked into the shot.

He was tall, and built like a Greek God. He reminded you a lot of your husband actually. His muscles were on full display in his open flannel shirt, denim jeans that hugged his thighs and on top of his dark hair, he wore a deep brown cowboy hat. He pulled the girl to him like a ragdoll and kissed down her body. She ripped open his shirt and let out an exaggerated moan. As the cowboy lifted her and placed her on the bar. He tipped his hat before tearing open her shirt and ravishing her. You watched in amazement. The acting was terrible, the moans were over the top. But the image of your husband, your Toshi, in a cowboy hat, with sweat glistening down his chest as he slammed into you wouldn’t leave your mind.

You turned the video off as you began to run your fingers down your slit, rubbing at your folds, imagining Ushijima taking you as he wanted. You slipped a finger inside as you thought of him gripping your hips and pounding into you. You wanted him to fuck you sore. Another finger went inside as you grinded against your hand, dreaming of his thick cock. Your thumb grazed your clit in soft circles and you felt yourself come undone. You let out a soft cry as you gushed around your fingers. You sighed, suddenly sleepy and pulled the blanket around you. You wanted him to dominate you and use you for his pleasure, and you wanted him to do it in a goddamn cowboy hat.

-----

Ushijima came home, tired from work, but excited to see you. He walked in the door, expecting to see you in the kitchen or lounging on the couch.

“Princess?” He called, putting his bag down by the door and slipping off his shoes. He walked around searching for you, and opened the bedroom door. He saw you sleeping under your dark burgundy comforter and smiled at how beautiful you looked. He walked in silently and pulled your laptop from the bed to place it on it’s charger. He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead before walking out and shutting the door.

Ushijima pulled the laptop out and placed it on the desk in your home office. He plugged in the charger and opened the laptop to make sure it was charging.

What he didn’t expect was to be face to face with a woman orgasming on the screen. He quickly slammed the screen shut. Why was there porn on your computer? His face turned red. Was he not enough for you? Maybe he was spending too much time at work, or not making you feel special. Or maybe you weren’t enjoying sex. He looked around and closed the door, making sure it was shut tight, before opening the laptop again. If he wasn’t pleasing you, he was gonna learn what you liked.

Ushijima watched as the man in the video grabbed the woman by her hips and plowed into her. He cocked his head to the side. Did you like that? Ushijima was never rough with you because he didn’t want to hurt you. But if that’s what you needed, he would do anything to make you happy. He continued watching.

The cowboy in the video tipped his hat before going down on the woman. She gave a long moan begging her “cowboy” to “give it to her”. Ushijima considered taking notes, but decided against it. He put his head in his hand and continued watching, not noticing the door to the office click open.

“Toshi...what are you doing?” You asked, half-asleep and a little confused. The woman on the laptop screen chose that moment to let out an exaggerated moan. “Are...you...are you watching porn?”

Ushijima jumped and quickly closed the laptop. “I…”

His normally stoic face was pink with a heavy blush and he seemed at a loss for words.

“Um…” You started before he interrupted.

“Do I not satisfy your sexual urges?” He asked suddenly. Now it was your turn to blush.

“What, oh my....Toshi! Is that the stupid cowboy video?” You asked, your eyes widening. He nodded, a little ashamed to have been caught snooping.

“I apologize, my love. I did not mean to invade your privacy. But if I am not pleasing you, please tell me.” He said in his normal voice, swallowing hard.

You fought the urge to cradle him in your arms.

“Toshi...you are the absolute love of my life. Don’t get me wrong, sex with you is AMAZING. Sometimes though...I just wish you might want to be a little rougher with me?” You mumbled the last bit.

He looked up at you. He suddenly stood, and towered over you. You looked up towards him and he pressed you against the wall with a quick kabedon. You shivered, and your mouth dropped in surprise. Ushijima stared at you the way a predator stares at prey. He then pulled away and said “I’ll be right back.”

“TOSHI?! What...where…”

He turned back around and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right back, princess. I need you to wait for me in the bedroom.”

He walked out the door and you could hear the jingling of keys and your front door close. Confused, and flustered, you decided to trust him and headed to the bedroom to wait.

40 minutes later you heard your front door open.

“Princess. You better be in that bedroom.” Ushijima said, his deep voice brimming with authority. You heard him place his stuff down and walk towards the bedroom. You sat up on the edge of the bed and he swung the door open.

Ushijima was standing in the doorway with a red flannel shirt and on his head...was a black cowboy hat.

Your face reddened.

“Toshi…”

“Listen to me. You are mine. And I’m going to make sure you know it.” He said, his baritone voice causing your stomach to flutter. He pushed you back against the bad and climbed on top of you.

He whispered in your ear, “If it gets too much, let me know and I’ll stop.” You nodded and gave a small smile. He started leaving hot kisses down your neck, and gripped the front of your shirt. He pulled it, ripping the material in two pieces with his bare hands and you gulped.

This was a new side of him.

He kissed down your chest and cupped your breasts in his hands. He squeezed them roughly leaving small bites on the tops of them as he worked off your bra. He tossed it to the side and began to lick and suck on your nipples, pinching and tugging wherever his mouth wasn’t. You let out a low groan as he sucked dark purple marks onto your skin. He pushed you into the mattress, as his kisses got lower. His hand held your hip down as he licked and nipped at your tummy. You pulled off his hat, and tossed it to the side of the bed.

He pushed your thighs apart and you could feel his breath on your clothed cunt.

“Fuck, princess. Let me taste you.”

He pulled your panties down your thighs and ran his finger over your folds, collecting the arousal that was dripping from you. He pushed his finger to your lips.

“Taste yourself.”

You obediently opened your mouth and sucked on his thick finger. You could taste the sweet and slight tang of your arousal and he pressed down on your tongue, causing drool to slip out of your mouth.

“Such a messy girl. You’re so wet from this.” Ushijima chuckled. He pulled his finger out of your mouth and brought it back to your pussy. He slowly rubbed up and down before licking a thick stripe across your cunt. You clenched the sheets as he began to lick and suck at your sex. He let out a deep groan and the vibrations caused your head to spin.

“Toshi, that feels so fucking good.” You yelped as he continued to lap up your juices. Your eyes fluttered as he darted his tongue inside. “Fuck...daddy, don’t stop!”

Ushijima could feel his cock grow harder at the sudden nickname. He growled into your tight little hole.

“Cum for daddy, princess.”

You felt your cunt tighten before releasing all over his tongue. He moaned at the taste and licked you clean.

He sat up and grabbed your face, pushing you on to your knees.

“Show me how much you love daddy’s cock.”

Your fingers fumbled with his belt and you pulled out his thick cock. Ushijima’s cock was massive, thick with two veins running on either side that led to the soft pink tip. You opened your mouth wide in an attempt to fit him in.

“That’s it. Good job princess. Suck daddy’s cock.” Ushijima gripped your hair, pulling you closer. He could hear you gag on it, but, remembering your words, he continued to force it down your throat.

“This is what you wanted, Y/N? You wanted to feel my dick in your throat. You wanted me to use your body to please me?” Ushijima asked, panting.

You moaned and tried to nod around his cock. Seeing him so feral and taking complete control was so fucking hot and you could tell he was enjoying it too.

“Fuck that feels good. You are so good for me. Swallow around my cock, princess. Make daddy cum down your throat.” Ushijima grunted, feeling his jaw tighten as he continued to fuck your mouth.

You cupped his balls and gently massaged them in your hand, lightly tugging and he let out a sharp hiss.

“FUCK...you are pleasing me so well, princess. This is incredible.” He pulled you off his cock.

“But I want to cum in that tight pussy. I want to claim what’s mine.” His eyes burned with determination and he lifted you onto the bed on all fours. He slid his cock up your slit and placed one of his strong hands on your lower back, with the other pulling your hair, causing your back to arch.

“Tell me what you want, love.” Ushijima whispered.

You whimpered.

“Please...fuck me daddy.”

He slammed into you and you cried out. His cock was so thick, you could feel your pussy clench around it automatically. He pulled it out and you could feel the veins drag along your walls, before he pumped back into you.

“Who do you belong to, princess?” Ushijima asked as he pounded into your cunt.

“Y-you daddy. I belong to...you.!” You sobbed out as stars danced in front of your eyes.

“That’s right. You...belong...to...me.” He punctuated each word with an even deeper thrust. You felt your body tense up and your eyes rolled back.

“G-gonna cum...so good...ahh.” You moaned, clawing at your bedsheets.

“I’m close as well, princess. Cum with me. Cum with Daddy.” Ushijima growled and you felt yourself combust.

“I - I - I’m CUMMING!” You wailed and Ushijima let out a low moan before you felt his cock twitch inside you. You could feel his searing hot cum pump into you, deeper than ever and your body shivered. He gripped you tight, leaving small finger shaped bruises you knew would show up tomorrow as he unloaded into you.

You both panted, coming down from your respective highs and he slid out of you. He pulled you to his chest and wrapped his biceps around you. You both laid in bed, sweaty and sticky.

“Was that good?” Ushijima asked, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. You looked up at him with dazed eyes.

“That was amazing, Toshi.”

He had a soft smile on his face. He then suddenly reached over and pulled the cowboy hat from where it laid on the floor.

“So should I keep the hat?”

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #tw daddy kink #tw unprotected sex #wakatoshi smut #ushijima wakatoshi

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collabwithmyself · 3 years

Note

*(wakes up to see country boy Phoenix - cracks knuckles)* “Let’s do this.”

Likely got best of both worlds seeing that he and Miles went to the same school - I’m thinking farm was in the country on the edge of a big city, Miles was big city, school was somewhere in the middle in suburbia... either that or his family moved to the city right before he entered that grade so he was already ostracized as being ‘that new farm kid’... I love the first because there are southern big cities (there’s a difference between southern and country), and honestly the idea of Miles also having a little bit of an accent from being in a city close to the country gives me life - but also the second one with the move fits with the plot better

Either way I’m saying his parents either still have or got a new farm and he gets his best thinking done while riding a tractor. If they’re within a reasonable distance he’ll sometimes be visiting, helping with the chores, and then all of a sudden “Sorry Mom and Dad, gotta go!” because he had an epiphany on a case in progress.

First time Miles and Larry get invited over as kids, Larry is offended that none of the chickens will let him hold them, but he’s just too loud and fidgety. Miles, however, is calm and quiet and within a few minutes has one in his lap letting him pet it. (If Phoenix’s little baby crush wasn’t solidified already, it is now. Chickens are great judges of character, and he loves seeing how gentle Miles is with them.)

Also during disbarment his parents are concerned about him and continually suggest the idea of him coming home, maybe not even to work on the farm (although nowadays many farm owners also have other jobs) but maybe the courts will be lenient and let him be a small town attorney (especially now as a parent he needs a more stable job to support Trucy). Phoenix resists however because 1) Trucy is going through enough changes; he doesn’t want to put her through a new lifestyle and take her away from what she is familiar with, 2) he truly believes he will find a way to prove his innocence, and 3) [the sass comes out] “I want to help defend the innocent - not the deadbeats who want custody of their child even though they never have food in the kitchen or a steady job”

He gets personally offended by Jake Marshall. Like, dude... did you spend one day in Ft Worth (the most stereotypical Cowboy City in Texas) and decided that was what the whole state was like? No one talks and acts like that (or maybe that’s just me projecting)

Most people can’t tell Phoenix is from the country, but he does have certain mannerisms and a practiced lack of any accent that people can tell he’s not native to big city life. Honestly the biggest tell is when he refers to anyone (especially those with authority, but anyone he’s trying to be polite to) sir or ma’am. He’s become careful, especially since some people will take it as an insult about their age (“oh I can’t believe I’m old enough to be referred to as sir/ma’am”) but when used at the right time it has won over a few individuals because “they aren’t used to talking with someone so cordial and polite”

Lotta and him butt heads, and I don’t think she catches on that he’s a country boy from the beginning, but in 2-4 he gets really heated at Miles and she overhears the accent slip out “Maya is kidnapped, I’m bein’ Blackmailed into goin’ against my beliefs and seekin’ the truth, and ya decide Now is the time to Waltz In and let me know YAINT ACTUALLY DEAD!” After that she has a bit more respect for a fellow country folk just trying to make it.

Also, to the one ask that suggested they knew each other, I’m imagining if he moved to the big city right before he met Miles, what if she was from before the move? They finally get talking over a couple of beers about growing up, she calls him out on being a country boy, and they realize that they were classmates up until 2nd grade or something but had changed so much they didn’t recognize/remember each other.

Body built for working. He’s not the type to work out, but he’s strong from just general biking into the city, fence mending, tree limb clearing, etc. Can also cook (and eat) well. Knows all the secrets to making a good roast, and will get offended if you refer to a cookout with hot dogs and hamburgers as a barbecue (it ain’t a barbecue unless the meat is smoked and slathered in sauce)

Also knows a lot about plumbing and electrical from making a room in the barn to be a laundry room. Just has a bunch of random skills where at the office something goes wrong and Mia says something like “I’ll call someone to fix it” and he’s asking her if she has any tools because he thinks he sees the problem and can fix it if she has even a basic toolkit. She pulls one out that hasn’t really seen the light of day in years (new office present from someone), and sure enough Phoenix gets it fixed.

Has boots and a hat somewhere, but really only wears them if majorly working on the farm or attending a country event like a rodeo or something. Although he does have quite a few plaid button-ups and jeans he’ll wear on more casual days. First time Miles sees him in that, he somehow becomes 10% gayer. (BOY LOOKS GOOD IN PLAID)

*(crashes back asleep)*

Holy SHIT, Azal.

#friend art #azalvirge #ace attorney #phoenix wright #collab answers #long post

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missmitchieg · 3 years

Text

On a Wednesday, Reggie hummed as he opened the double door to school and walked inside, clad in his usual white t shirt, red flannel, blue jeans, black cowboy boots & matching hat, and a backpack covered in Pokemon and D&D enamel pins making him stand out in a school full of cool Californians who wore crop tops, varsity jackets, and sneakers. He squirmed and cringed under the gaze of the other kids, seeking out the one he knew would be able to help him. "Hey, you guys seen Flynn?" He asked a group of girls dressed in matching Bobcat costumes, thanking them and walking in the direction they pointed him in.

He strode toward Flynn's locker, a smile on his face. "Hi, there." He greeted, tipping his hat.

Flynn gave the boy a sweet smile, grabbing her Calculus book. "Hey! You're the new kid from... Texas, right?"

Reggie nodded in confirmation, scratching the back of his neck. "That's right, ma'am. My name's Reggie Peters." He spoke, Texan accent jumping out.

"Flynn Taylor. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She said with a handshake.

"Pleasure's all mine." He insisted. "I was just wondering, I know you kinda have a thing for giving makeovers-"

Flynn perked up, gasping in excitement.

Reggie chuckled with a nod. "Yeah, I was just wondering if maybe after school, or sometime this weekend, you could help me out?"

"Absolutely! I have some free time this Saturday if that works for you." Flynn nodded.

"Saturday's great." Reggie grinned.

"Ok! Um, here. I'll text you my address so you can come over and we'll figure out what your style is so we can go shopping together." She pulled her phone from her pocket, watching him take his own out.

Reggie gave her his number and they both walked away to their own classes, Flynn Calculus with Julie and Reggie History with Alex, content with the knowledge that they would hang out Saturday.

The rest of the school week came and went and now it was Saturday, so Reggie went to Flynn's house to figure out his new look. He looked up from his bicycle, in awe of his new, cool friend Flynn's house. He locked his bike quickly and walked to the door, knocking three times. He smiled as he watched Flynn run to the door from the window and yank it open.

"Hi, Reggie!" She greeted, taking his hand. "Come in." She gently pulled him in, laughing softly as he took in the interior of the house.

"Wow. You have a really nice place." Reggie hummed, admiring the plants everywhere. "Ooh, is this a fern?"

"Yeah. Mama's pride and joy. Besides me, of course." Flynn joked before leading him to her bedroom, almost a museum of plants and fabrics and arts and crafts she'd left unfinished for another day.

Reggie looked over his shoulder, lifting a hand to inspect a half finished black leather jacket on a mannequin. "I like this."

"That's for my friend, Julie. Not finished, yet. I still need to sew all the sequins in." Flynn smiled. "But shh. It's a surprise for her."

"My lips are sealed." Reggie promised.

"Much appreciated. So, you like black." Flynn noted.

"Yeah, black and red are my favorite colors." He said, still eyeing the jacket. "I've always wanted one of these cool leather jackets."

"I can work with that." She nodded. "You seem to favor boots."

"I like that they're sturdy and secure." Reggie told her.

"Valid. What size?" She grabbed her phone to put black leather ankle boots into her cart.

Reggie spent another half hour at her house before they went shopping together, Flynn paying for everything with her credit card.

"You really didn't have to." Reggie told her.

"But I wanted to." Flynn insisted, carrying half the bags since Reggie pretty much demanded if Flynn paid, he would help with the bags.

"Thanks for that cool jacket from the thrift store."

"You looked happy in it." Flynn shrugged.

On Monday, Reggie walked into school with his new leather jacket, ankle boots, and newly slicked back hair, walking toward his Dungeons & Dragons friends. "Hi, guys."

"Hey, Re-Reggie?!" Albert gasped, taking in his friend's new look.

Reggie chuckled, his eyes bright as he shrugged. "Made a friend. Went shopping."

"Hi, Reggie!" Flynn piped up with a wave.

"Hi, Flynn!" Reggie waved back, giving her a side hug when she walked over with her friend, Julie and her boyfriend in tow. Flynn had introduced him to the pair on Sunday and Julie, having the power to do so, announced on tiktok that she would make it a hallway rule that no one was allowed to bully or mess with Reggie or feel her wrath.

"Reg, I like the look, buddy. Super rad." Luke grinned, giving him a fist bump.

"You look very handsome, Reggie." Julie smiled, patting his shoulder.

Reggie smiled, his jaw dropping and the air leaving his lungs as he took in the very cute jock currently talking to a couple of cheerleaders he seemed friendly with. "Woah." He adjusted his collar, suddenly sweaty and nervous. "Who is that?"

Julie looked in the direction Reggie pointed, a smile growing on her face. "Oh, that's Nick. He's awesome."

"Oh, he's so cool. He always has someone over to play video games." Flynn nodded, recognizing the look on his face. "I could introduce you." She offered.

"What?" Reggie panicked. "N-no. I mean-" He tried, but Flynn was already walking over.

"Hey, guys."

"Hi, Flynn." The group smiled.

"Nick, buddy. I have a friend who wants to meet you." Flynn prompted.

"Uh, ok. See you later, girls." Nick smiled and started to walk away with Flynn, freezing when he saw Reggie. Oh, this boy was cute. "Um, hi." He squeaked after a minute.

"Hi." Reggie responded after a second.

"We're gonna let you two get acquainted with each other." Luke announced and gently pushed Julie and Flynn in the other direction.

Reggie blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

"Is that Arceus?" Nick pointed to a pin on his backpack.

Reggie perked up at that, nodding quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Oh, it's so cool. I love Pokemon."

"Really?" Reggie grinned brightly.

Nick grinned back, unaware they were being watched by Luke, Julie, Flynn, and Reggie's D&D friends around a corner. "Yeah. I-I just got the New Pokemon Snap game for the Switch. You wanna come over and play sometime?"

"Really?" Reggie blushed, his hand squeezing his backpack strap.

"Yeah, it'll be fun."

"I-I'd love to." Reggie nodded.

"Ok, great! How about you come over after school? We could do homework together and play."

"Sure."

The boys exchanged numbers and separated to their groups, the both of them celebrating spending time with a cute boy after school.

"Reggie, you two are already so cute together." Julie gushed.

"Nick, I swear if you don't take your chance with that boy, I will." Kayla threatened.

"Guys, we're just playing video games." Reggie said, unable to hide his smile.

"Woah. Relax. I just met him." Nick laughed.

"What if it's not just video games?" Albert pointed out, fixing his glasses on his nose.

"Y-you think it could be more?" Reggie blushed.

"I haven't seen that look in his eyes since he dated that curly boy. What was his name?" Julie asked.

"Tyler." Flynn reminded her.

"Yeah, him. They didn't work out and, now I guess we know why. You two were meant to be."

"You two were so sweet." Carrie grinned.

"Danforth-Evans, you better snatch that boy up." Tyler said as he appeared beside the girls.

"You are such a sappy romantic, Jules." Luke smiled.

"And you like it." Julie gave him a twinkly eyed smile.

"I really do." Luke nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Ok! Ok! I'll talk to him." Nick declared.

"Ok, good." Carrie nodded, satisfied with that.

"Both of you are saps." Flynn pointed out.

"Yeah, what she said."

"Gosh. I-I've never dated a boy before." Reggie bit his lip. "And he's so cool."

"He's just so cute." Nick said dreamily, and then the bell rang telling everyone to get to class.

"See you guys at lunch!" Nick grinned, rushing to get to class.

#julie and the phantoms #reggie molina #flynn taylor #nick danforth evans #luke patterson #julie molina #jatp fanfic #different cliques!verse

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nightmarecait · 3 years

Photo

Thank you so much to @thefriendlypigeon for this great art of my Doom Patrol OC Sal. This post is gonna be kind of long. So I’m putting the good stuff under the cut. But first the basics.

Name: Sal Lockwood.

Gender: Cowboy. (Non binary)

Pronouns: She/her

Age: physically 24, chronologically 52

Powers: Teleportation

From: Houston, Texas

Ethnicity: Mexican-American

In 1993 Sal was working as a janitor at the Houston Particle Accelerator Lab. (Yes, I’ve decided that there is a particle accelerator in texas in the 90s). As a janitor she doesn’t have a keycard to access the lab right next to the actual accelerator. But somebody spilled coke and no one else wants to clean it up so they let her in. While Sal is mopping up the lab the central alarm goes off, indicating that something is badly wrong with the accelerator. The scientist scramble and run for their lives, Sal is caught up in the crowd and left on the wrong side of the door without a keycard. When the accelerator explodes it takes most of the building with it, but Sal is the only one in the direct path of the blast. The fiery explosion gives burns her in multiple places, chiefly her face and her hands. Sal doesn’t wake up in the ruins of the lab but rather on a pig farm miles away. The particle accelerator having given her the ability to teleport. But it’s also left her with severe nerve damage in her hands and a crippling fear of fire. Initially she was pursued by the Bureau of Normalcy, but was able to escape pretty easily when she realized that her teleportation powers had no limit. Sal meets the chief in New York after stealing a hot dog from a street vendor. After learning that she is homeless the Chief offers her a place to stay.

Ok the rest is gonna be pretty fragmented. And seriously out of order.

The nerve damage in her hands is pretty bad, there are days when she can’t hold a pencil steady and typing is extremely difficult. Really anything with fine motor skills.

She didn’t actually lose her finger in the fire, while she was unconscious on the pig farm a pig bit it off.

She likes heavy metal almost as much as Cliff.

She likes old style outlaw country. Hates modern country, which she calls “flag country”

Her dad left town when she was twelve. Leaving her alone with her younger brother, J.R. and their mom Rosa.

Sal refers to J.R. as “special” and “being wired different” Sal never knows if J.R. is autistic or what else he might have, she just knows he requires special attention.

She ends up working at the lab when Rosa gets sick and can’t work as much.

She gets along well with most of Jane’s personalities, with the obvious exceptions (Hammerhead)

She empathizes with Rita because both them lack control over their own bodies sometimes.

Sal can teleport anywhere just by thinking about a place. It’s instant.

During the confrontation with Mr. Nobody she tries to shoot him. It doesn’t work.

Sal owns a portable electric induction burner, she uses it to make chili.

She makes the best Texas chili

Sal can’t be in the kitchen when Larry is cooking. The flames on the gas burners trigger her phobia and give her flashbacks.

She regularly suffers nightmares about the explosion, she often wakes up somewhere else than her room.

Like the others Sal finds out that her accident was engineered by Niles. She responds by pointing her revolver at him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do it”

When Niles says he did it for his daughter she puts away the gun but screams, “What about Cliff’s daughter? What about Larry’s sons? What about my brother?”

When we learn Niles is dying. “Maybe he’ll find a particle accelerator to blow up. Then he can spend eternity waking up in strange places and remembering what it feels like and what it fucking smells like to be on fire.”

She always wanted to be a writer, Cliff walks in on Sal punching the table and screaming at a laptop. Her fingers hurt too much and she can’t make them hit the right letters.

I like to think that at some point the gang chips in to by a speech to text software. They have to adjust it for her accent.

Sal is the queen of dine and dash. (chain restaurants only.)

She always pays at mom and pop places. With money she steals from rich people.

The imaginary friend show down. Sal’s imaginary friend is a purple octopus wearing a top hat, his name is Mr. Bubbles. “Everyone called J.R. the freak, but you knew it was you all along. Screaming when Mom used your real name, when her friends said you were becoming a fine young woman. You were the wrong one. And you made me because you needed someone to be stranger than you.”

Feel free to ask questions!

#Doom Patrol #doom patrol spoilers #spoilers #oc #art commision

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captainkappa · 3 years

Text

Fanfic:: Sunday Run

Like many people, I fell hard and fast for Din/Luke and ended up writing this fic surprisingly fast for my standards.

Luke goes for his Sunday run. He’s just not expecting to be passed by such a large group of people

Modern AU, Meet Cute

Link to AO3

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As sunlight streamed in from the edges of the window shade, Luke had to remind himself that even if it hardwired his body to wake up at 6 a.m. on a weekend, teaching was a fulfilling career.

He stared at his phone’s clock as if it’d personally offended him before dropping it on the floor and turned back over to hopefully catch some more sleep.

When he next opened his eyes, he was aware of the scratching at his door. He groped around on the floor, annoyed that his half-asleep self hadn’t thought to use the perfectly good nightstand that was right there. His fingers found purchase and squinted against the bright flash of the screen.

7:19 a.m.

Good enough.

Luke pulled himself out of bed, scrubbing a hand over his face before going about his morning routine on autopilot. He opened the door to start making breakfast and was unsurprised to find a put-out Artoo sitting just outside his door, tail flicking as angrily as a cat could.

“What?”

Artoo continued to stare at him. Luke walked over to the cat’s food dish, finding it a quarter of the way full, with a small spot in the center with no food.

“Oh, come on, that’s not empty. You were not about to starve last night.”

The cat did not look convinced but happily munched when Luke refreshed it with new food and water.

He started breakfast, only pausing to answer a text, to reassure Leia that he’d be over at her place for dinner. He leaned against the counter as he ate, glancing over to Artoo who looked very keen on stealing some.

“It’s not eggs today, buddy. I got too much shell in it last time.”

He’d wanted to try cracking an egg one handed, not wanting to get his prosthetic dirty. It hadn’t gone well.

Artoo didn’t look impressed then, and he didn’t look impressed now, letting out a meow.

Luke rested his elbows down. “Do you think I should actually go on a run today, buddy?”

Sunday runs were a fickle part of his schedule. If he was at his best, he’d do five miles every Sunday morning before enjoying the rest of his day off, but sometimes the looming threat of the work week or the effects of last week made him skip. The past couple of weeks, though, he’d been on a streak, but he was just getting tired of looking at the same buildings in his neighborhood.

Artoo said nothing, shifting in his spot to lick his leg.

He sighed, “You’re right, I should.”

He left the plate in the sink to clean up later and finished getting ready for his run. He slipped a sock on his elbow and attached one of his cosmetic prosthetic arms, not needing to be interrupted by someone wanting to know his life story just to tell him he’s “so brave.”

(If the person was an asshole about feeling entitled to his life, Luke made up an increasingly incredulous story involving sharks or killer bees or both in the case of one annoying woman in a checkout lane. If they were nice, they got the condensed version, car accident. Very few people knew of the argument beforehand he’d had with his father, how he’d gotten in the car furious, how that blinded him to the drunk driver swerving into his lane.)

Slipping on his shoes and gave Artoo a passing scritch on the head. The cold, early spring air was a shock, but he resisted the urge to go back to swap out his shorts for sweatpants. He’d warm up as he ran. When he got into his car, the check engine light flashed as it had for the past two weeks and like he’d done for the past two weeks, he ignored it, muttering about how he’d get it checked when he had the funds. Teaching was emotionally fulfilling; it just wasn’t monetarily fulfilling.

The car rumbled to life and he turned out of his neighborhood. As he’d gotten dressed for the day, he’d landed on a park he’d gone to a couple of times before, hoping a change of scenery would help in keeping the motivation to run.

For a Sunday morning, it was pretty quiet. The park had only opened a half hour before and there were maybe five other cars in the lot. Once there, he stretched in the parking lot and picked a trail in the wooded area. He hoped he’d be avoiding most of the runners picking pathed paths rather than the more natural ones.

Luke went for his phone and sighed, realizing he’d forgotten his earbuds. He shrugged to himself before jogging his way over the path. Hopefully nature would give him something to look at. Maybe he’d even practice some of that mindfulness Uncle Ben kept talking about.

Asphalt gave way to packed earth as he arrived at the start of the path. He gave himself one last quick stretch before starting to run in earnest. Trees surrounded him on all sides, growing thicker as the path leaned to the right. The trees were still bare from winter, allowing more sunlight through the branches. The path was firm packed earth, with some tree roots poking out of the ground.

To his right, the forest gave way to a lake and then a river, the earth slowly sloping downward until he was running beside a sharp decline, nothing so dangerous as to need a fence, but noticeable that Luke made sure to be aware of where his feet landed. If he couldn’t afford a major car repair, he certainly couldn’t afford to trip and fall down that hill.

Luke took in a purposeful breath, pushing away thoughts of money. Maybe mindfulness could be the goal of today. He thought back to how Uncle Ben had described it. Start from the bottom. Focus on your feet, keeping light steps as-

“On your left!”

He glanced over at the woman passing him and gave her a polite nod, which she returned. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail, bouncing as she jogged past.

That was okay, other runners were a normal part of going to parks. He’d just have to recenter himself, start again. Focus on the feeling of running shoes on ground-

“Make way!”

He looked over to see a bald man passing him, gaining speed as he yelled something to the woman ahead. Luke couldn’t make out the specifics, but he could hear her laugh.

Okay, not everyone can be a considerate runner, but that wouldn’t damper his spirit.

He found his rhythm again, focusing on the trees around him, the purpose in each step he took, how running made him feel. It almost a decent replacement for music.

“Incoming!”

Almost.

Luke nearly stumbled at that loud introduction as a short woman with wild curly hair grinned at him and passed him.

He didn’t have time to process that when he heard a man with a soft Southern accent say from behind him, “Pardon me.”

Luke looked up and damn near blushed when the man gave him a wink as he passed. Any ability to practice mindfulness went out the window as he watched the man jog ahead in front of him. But who could blame him for having his thoughts wander, who jogged in a cowboy hat?

He took a deep breath. It was fine. So what if he was used to peaceful runs with little interruption? So what if his thoughts were turning to annoyance as this trail was more crowded and loud than he was used to? Luke could handle that.

Luke was just getting in the mind when there was a cough and he turned to see two women power walking behind him. They paused their conversation to give him a look that forced him to step off the path to let them by, some dirt and rocks coming loose and falling the short ways down the hill. He gave a polite hello that neither of them returned.

He busied himself with stretching, ready to get back to running when-

“On your left.”

An annoyed comment was on the tip of his tongue, but the steely gaze of the woman in all black made him clam up.

He checked his phone briefly, the app he used informing him he was nearly halfway to his target. A satisfied thrum filled his body and he got back on the trail, focusing on getting the burn back in his legs, how he knew it’d feel good later to know he’d gotten out early and was able to jog amongst nature.

There, it wasn’t that hard to get back in the jogging mood.

“Passing.”

Luke didn’t even have time to register why that voice sounded familiar as the man accidentally clipped his shoulder. He stumbled, his shoe catching a root sticking out of the ground and pitching himself sideways off the side of the hill. His life flashed before his eyes as he blindly reached out for a branch, a twig, anything to keep him from tumbling down. For a moment he was surprised when his hand grabbed onto something soft before he was quickly righted, a hand on his shoulder and prosthetic.

Heart pounding in his ears, he could only barely make out the man in front of him – who saved him – asking if he was okay. He just nodded, only aware he was being led to sit until there was firm ground underneath him.

As his pulse calmed, he looked at the man who was now kneeling in front of him and, wow, way he handsome. Dark brown curls slightly matted by sweat, light brown skin showing beneath a gray shirt, sunglasses perched on his nose, but most noticeable was the baby carrier on his chest. The child, who couldn’t be more than 18 months old, was looking at Luke with wide eyes, arms outstretched.

“Are you alright?” the man asked again, voice low with concern.

Luke swallowed before finding his voice, “Yeah, just got tripped up by that one guy.”

The other man nodded and stood up. He offered a hand to Luke and Luke, still buzzing with adrenaline, falling on habits he thought he’d forgotten since the accident, offered his right hand, not realizing his mistake until the man pulled with more force than expected and pulled off Luke’s prosthetic with a soft ‘pop.’

The sunglasses hide the man’s face, but Luke can see the man’s growing confusion and embarrassment. Not wanting to put the poor guy through that, Luke surged up to his feet, gently taking the arm from the man and gave him a slight smile.

Luke knew he should something along the lines of “it’s fine, don’t worry about it!’ but that’s not what comes out.

Instead, Luke looked to the man (and when had he gotten this close to realize there’s a slight stubble on his chin) and said, “Guess you don’t know your own strength, huh?”

Before the man can react, Luke turned and continued running in the direction he was going, passing the group of people who had passed him minutes before. A couple of them nod, some shout out to him “Where’re you going in a hurry?” and “What happened to your arm?”

(The bald guy said the last one. It just pushes him harder.)

Thankfully, a branch in the path opened up and even though he hadn’t run a full five miles, he banked to the left, closer toward the parking lot. He didn’t stop until his car came into view, trying to catch his breath as the adrenaline passes through him. He reattached his hand, flexing the other one that had cramped up from holding it so tightly.

“Don’t know your own strength.” Who the hell are you, Skywalker? Han wouldn’t even pull a line like that… okay maybe he would.

He shook his head, trying to put the man out of his mind. He halfheartedly stretched in front of his car, a bone-weariness setting in after everything that just makes him want to already be home in front of the TV.

Opening the car door, he fell into his seat. He pressed the keys into the ignition and turned the car on. It rumbled more than it usually did before making a noise like defeat and falling still.

“No, no, no!” he mumbled, trying the key again. Nothing.

The check engine light blinked as if to say. “I told you so.”

With a groan, his head fell onto the steering wheel, startling him as he accidentally hit the horn. He readjusted so he could wallow without informing everyone in a 500-yard radius how fucked he was. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, the logistics of repair crews and carpooling to work making his mind run overtime.

There was a crick forming in his neck and back when a familiar, high pitched voice called out.

“You good – oh it’s you!”

Luke looked up and saw the short woman with the wild curly hair standing close by.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to add ‘crying in front of strangers’ on his list of things he did today.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You havin’ engine trouble?”

“Yeah, I-” and before he could say more, the lady had moved to the front of his car, popped open the hood, and was waist deep in his car.

“Not bad condition,” she said, “considering it’s an X-Wing. Don’t see too many of these older models out here.” She leaned around the hood, “I’ll need to get underneath to see how bad it really is.”

“Do you… work at a repair shop?”

She waved a hand. “Kid, I own a repair shop!” And before he could dispute being called a “kid” at the age of 28, there was a slightly sweaty business card for Motto’s Motors in his hand. It was close by his neighborhood, closer to the one he normally went to.

He was about to ask about prices, when the woman with her hair in a ponytail walked over.

“Everything okay here, Peli?”

The woman elbows deep in his car, Peli apparently, started explaining the car situation and then Cara turned to him with a glint of recognition.

“Hey there!”

Luke nodded a hello, and somehow, that led to the rest of their group (they were all a group, who jogged with this many people?) surrounding the car and introducing themselves to Luke, first Cara, then Mayfeld, Cobb, Bo-Katan, Koska, Fennec, Boba, Din and Grogu in the carrier. He’s surprised when, instead of going back to their own cars, they stay and talk around his, dragging him into conversations and asking his opinion on matters that seem like they have history. Luke glanced about, trying to follow everything, when his eyes catch on Din hanging off awkwardly to the side.

Finally, Peli shut the hood with a thunk and wiped her hands on her sweatpants. “I’ll give the boys a call, they can get a tow truck out here. I’m sure one of us can give you a drive down.”

Any arguments against accepting die on his tongue as she gives him a look that could melt icecaps. And there are no protests from her friends as they all start talking over each other once again, this time about car organization. Before he can comprehend, he’s handed his keys over to Peli, a loud call has been sent to Peli’s “boys,” and he and Din have been left in the parking lot. Standing together, Luke can better tell that he’s only a few inches shorter than the other man, but that doesn’t help him feel any less intimidated in the silence. Still wearing the sunglasses, Din doesn’t look all too happy, but it’s hard to tell.

“You know the um, arm thing? It’s fine, it’s just cosmetic, you didn’t rip any wires out or anything. I don’t even know how those fancy robotic prosthetics work anyhow, they were always out of my budget…” Too late, Luke realized he was rambling.

“So, it’s fine,” he finished lamely. Din nodded, but the air between them hasn’t seem to have cleared.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Luke said. “I can just grab an Uber.”

“No, it’s fine,” Din said, pulling out his keys.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just… not a fan of being volunteered for stuff.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or not. Of course Din wasn’t a fan of being Luke’s chauffer for the morning, he had a kid. Luke slipped in the front passenger seat as Din spent his time buckling up the kid in the backseat, whispering to him. He couldn’t help but sneak a peak at the two through the rearview mirror, heart melting a little at the sight of how Din seemed to relax around the kid.

Having heard far weirder names among his kindergarten classes, Luke just nodded. Soon, Din was in the front seat, turning the car on.

“You ready?”

Luke nodded again and Din put the car in reverse, resting his hand on the back of Luke’s seat to back out of the parking spot. The car filled with an awkward silence as they exited the park, but Luke hadn’t expected much else, content to stare out the window and watch the familiar landscape pass them.

They had barely made it onto the highway where Peli’s shop was when Luke could hear Grogu fussing in the back. Without taking his eyes off the road, Din placed a free hand on top of the baby seat.

“It’ll be okay, don’t worry,” he said quietly, but Grogu continued to fuss.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he- he just doesn’t like being alone back there. I had picked up some of my friends, so he was fine in the way in, but they managed to pack themselves into two cars so-”

He was cut off by a cry from Grogu that filled up the car. Din leaned further to the side, tapping his hand on the seat. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m still here.”

That calms the cry, but Luke can still sense that Grogu wasn’t fully pleased.

Luke barely had to think about it when he spoke up. “Pull over.”

Din briefly broke eye contact with the road to glance at Luke. “What?”

“Pull over, I’ll sit in the back.”

“It’s fine, he’ll be-”

“Din.”

Din glanced over to him again.

“I’m the reason your friends aren’t able to in the car with him. I’ll be fine sitting in the backseat.”

He looked like he was going to say something, but instead he pulled his arm back, flipping on the turn signal to merge with the right shoulder. Another cry bubbled up from Grogu as they came to a stop, and Luke barely waited for the car to go into park before he’s out of his seat and in the backseat. It’s sort of a tight squeeze with the baby seat in the middle, but Luke doesn’t say anything.

Grogu looked up at him as he sat down. There were still some tears down his face and Luke carefully wiped them away.

“Hey buddy,” he said with a smile. “It’s alright.”

The kid babbled happily and reached out for him. Luke chuckled and held out a finger for Grogu to grab. The kid has a firm grasp, strong enough Luke knows he’s not getting his finger back anytime soon.

He lifted his head to tell Din they were ready to start moving again, but he paused, taken aback by the look Din is giving him. The sunglasses were still on, but he can tell something had shifted. Din is looking right through him, almost like when he was kneeled in front of him on the trail.

Luke swallowed down his shock. “We’re ready.”

Din just nodded and turned back in his seat, merging back into the early afternoon traffic. Now the car was filled with Grogu’s happy baby talk and Luke felt comfortable making small talk. He offered that he was a kindergarten teacher, which he could tell made Din relax even more. All he got from Din was he worked security, but Luke had never been one to mind talking, and it felt like no time has passed until they were turning into a garage with “Motto’s Motors” spray painted above.

Peli was already there, under his car, surrounded by the people Luke can only assume are “her boys.” Before he was fully out of the car, still extracting his finger from Grogu’s vice like grip, Peli was chewing him out for not taking the car in earlier. Thankfully, it was expected to be a small fix and she should be able to get it back to him tomorrow. They talked price as Din wrestled Grogu out of the baby seat. The cost was more than he wanted to hear, but not as bad it could have been, so he took solace that he won’t have to sacrifice too much of his wallet.

Luke was about to turn back to ask Din if he could trouble him for a ride home, when Peli called out, “Mando, tell everyone they can start brunch without me!”

Din nodded as Luke’s stomach sank.

“Am I forcing you to miss out on something?” he asked, looking from Peli to Din.

Din looked like he was going to say something before getting cut off by her, “Don’t worry about it! We do this every Sunday; we can afford to be a little late!”

“You do this every week? That’s nice,” he said with a smile to Din.

“Yeah,” Peli added, like she’d suddenly gotten an idea. “You know what, we probably have room in the carpool for one more, if you want to join?”

“What, me? I couldn’t-”

“It’d be okay,” Din said. “My friends all seem to like you… as does Grogu.”

Grogu cooed in his arms. Luke looked up to Din, holding eye contact for a minute before breaking into a smile.

“Alright then, I’ll come next week.”

#dinluke #skydalorian #my fanfic #kappa writes #god the more i think about this fic the more ridiculous i realize it is #but im still posting it!#bc i have no self control which is evident from the nearly 4k words of this i wrote #the mandalorian #star wars #sw

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nitewrighter · 4 years

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How was Genji's first blackwatch mission? Or.. First time meeting Mccree and Reyes?

Paolo the probation officer kept a leisurely pace behind Genji as he wheeled through Zurich headquarters. Paolo was medium height, dressed in the all-black of Blackwatch with multiple tattoos up his arms. He had a mild south Italian accent and had even politely offered to push Genji’s wheelchair, but Genji could already feel the muscles of his remaining organic arm softening and refused. He felt a little exposed compared to the blackwatch agent, just wearing a gray tee and sweatpants whose empty dangling pant legs had been tied off in knots and folded under his leg stumps. They were only just starting to put him in prosthetics, and he was far from balanced when he wore them.

“So...” Genji gave a glance over his shoulder to Paolo as he wheeled, “You’re in Blackwatch?”

“Eh, just a grunt,” Paolo gave a dismissive hand wave, “I was a security guard at the Blackwatch headquarters in Roma.” He chuckled a little, “Much warmer there.”

“Mm,” Genji fixed his eyes back forward and kept up his roll. He would ask more but a part of him knew he wouldn’t get the answers he was looking for out of Paolo. All those answers lay ahead of him. He was more used to the rhythm of the wheelchair than he would like to admit at this point. They got into an elevator and Paolo leaned in a corner, humming as the elevator descended.

Doesn’t seem very disciplined for a black ops division, Genji thought to himself before the elevator dinged and the doors opened to a narrow hallway with two guards standing next to steel doors in all-black tactical gear. They gave a glance to Paolo, who flashed them an ID card, one of them scanned the card with their comm, returning an affirmative beep, and both gave Paolo a nod before pressing a button on the intercom next to the door.

“Agent Montemurro and Candidate Shimada entering,” said the guard before the steel doors whooshed open.

Candidate Shimada, Genji turned the word ‘candidate’ over in his head as he wheeled into a massive underground office space with multiple monitors all over the walls and orange-ish industrial lights illuminating everything. Here seemed to be a mix of agents and office workers, some in varying layers of tactical gear, some in full armor while others just in black shirts and fatigues, some in business casual, all more or less caught up in their own affairs as Genji and Paolo crossed the space. Genji felt a few eyes on him as he wheeled through, and glanced down at the stumps of his legs self-consciously.

“This way,” said Paolo, walking ahead of him, and Genji could only sullenly wheel after him. He scanned the room, too many bodies for him to remember one face, and so many of them glancing at him, glancing down at him as he wheeled across the floor, but he caught a familiar voice, though he wasn’t sure how it was familiar.

“Nah, the intel from the Sharoy mission says that’s all bullshit. Look, get in touch with Agent Mazur and you should--Oh--hey!”

A tall, swaggering figure in Blackwatch fatigues, a cowboy hat and some kind of black poncho suddenly swung in next to Genji’s wheelchair. He had an agreeable squarish face framed by umber brown sideburns. Genji didn’t recognize his face, but he caught sight of a skull tattoo on his forearm that sparked some blurry memories from the night Hanzo attacked him. He remembered being jostled on a stretcher with that tattoo steadying it before falling into unconsciousness again.

“It’s you!” the cowboy said, chewing on an unlit cigar, “Didn’t think you’d be up and at ‘em this early! Look at you, all wheelin’ around..!”

His voice trailed off in an odd way, as if expecting Genji to pick up the conversation. Genji glanced up at him and slowed in the rolling of his wheelchair.

“I’m sorry,” said Genji, “Do I know you?”

“Heh,” he walked alongside Genji’s wheelchair and tilted back the brim of his hat with his thumb, “Oh I’m nobody. But I was spottin’ the doc that night we took you in. Nearly killed you. Full disclosure.”

Genji’s face scrunched up in some combination of confusion and fury. ‘Spotting the doc?’ What?

“Weird night. Think it worked out, though,” said the cowboy, before giving a glance down to Genji. He held out a hand, “Jesse McCree. Kinda got the same deal you’re gettin’.”

Genji glanced at his hand before looking back up at his eyes.He lifted a hand from his wheels to shake McCree’s hand before returning back to his wheels. “Shimada Genji,” he said in turn.

“Oh I know,” said McCree, chuckling and looking forward.

McCree strolled alongside them until Genji found himself rolling up a ramp leading into a glass-walled office where two men were talking. One was as familiar as McCree was, with medium clay-brown skin with scars that danced as he moved and spoke, and large, penetrating brown eyes that offset the soldierly squareness of his jaw. He was talking to a posh-looking man with an ivory complexion and jet black hair and mustache. Both of their eyes flicked to Genji as Genji, McCree, and Paolo walked up to the door of the office.

The scarred man was the first to notice them and leaned, catlike, across his desk to press a button. The doors slid open and Genji and McCree walked in. Genji gave a confused glance to Paolo, who simply gave him a polite wave as the doors closed on him.

“Genji Shimada? Gérard LaCroix. Blackwatch’s attaché to the UN,” a crisp, bright voice, only slightly softened by a Parisian accent, spoke and Genji’s head swung up to look at the voice’s source. The mustached man was standing in front of him, politely holding out his hand. Genji awkwardly brought his hand off the wheelchair’s armrest and shook Gérard’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gérard went on.

The phrase, ‘good things, I hope’ seemed to be a really stupid thing to say at this point. “I’ve heard about you as well,” said Genji, hoping he had and had just forgotten about it.

“Ah good to hear. So you have a decent idea of what we intend to do here,” said Gérard.

“Yyes,” said Genji, blankly, then after a beat, he remembered his conversation with Mercy, “You need my help to dismantle the Shimada clan.”

“Among other things,” said the scarred man, pushing away from his desk and walking toward Genji, “Gabriel Reyes. Blackwatch commander. I was also on the recovery team bringing you in.”

Genji sat up in his wheelchair slightly, “I’ve been meaning to ask some questions about that.”

“A lot of the answers to that will likely be classified, but I can answer what I can,” said Reyes, folding his arms.

“How were you watching me and for how long?” said Genji, his eyes narrowing, “You had to be, to know when to swoop in like that.”

Reyes and McCree exchanged wary glances, but Gérard cleared his throat. “If I may?”

Gabriel gave Gérard a ‘go ahead,’ gesture and Gérard straightened the collar of his waistcoat. “For the most part, the UN and Interpol had decided to leave dealing with the Shimada clan up to the NPA, but we feared the clan was becoming prominent enough to garner the attention of the international terrorist organization, Talon. We used a light hand. Only a handful of operatives seeded around the city, gauging the internal structural strength of the clan. They’ve since been extracted. The plan was, initially, to detain you on charges of possession, match the drugs in your possession to those our other busts had recovered worldwide, and drag the clan into the light behind you, doing all this in collaboration with the NPA.”

“You were never planning to recruit me,” said Genji. Something tensed in his stomach. Hanzo had always said he was a liability, would he have taken the whole clan down if Hanzo hadn’t killed him?

“Initially,” Gérard emphasized, “When we found out that the Shimada Dragons might be more than a metaphor, that warranted closer observation.”

“So you’re recruiting me for the dragon,” said Genji.

“We’re recruiting you because we have a shared interest,” said Gabriel, “But as far as what we saw the night we extracted you goes… it would be a waste to let it, and you, rot in a jail cell.”

“…so my choice is either help you or go to jail,” said Genji, flatly.

“Not necessarily,” said Gérard, “And… here’s where we get into the messy legal stuff. You could argue for the case that ultimately your safety was compromised by Overwatch’s interference, that one of the agents we had observing you was compromised. As far as all of Overwatch’s records show, there was no such incident of compromise, but you could legally argue that that occurred and Overwatch or the NPA could provide you with the legal representation to argue that case in court. After all, we couldn’t keep eyes on you 24/7, maybe something happened that we weren’t aware of. If you successfully prove your case, Overwatch faces severe scandal and UN inquiry, but then your case gets handed back to the NPA---”

About midway through Gérard’s long ramble on his legal status, Genji had half-tuned him out, glancing over his shoulder in his wheelchair to look at McCree. McCree was still chewing that unlit cigar, leaning against the glass wall of the office. He gave Genji a smirking, ‘Welp’ shrug, as Gérard went on, and Genji frowned beneath his surgical mask.

“And again,” Gérard was still going on when Genji yanked his attention back to him, “We could provide you with legal representation there, but this is a process that could take months, years, even, given how entangled the Shimada clan’s offenses are with multiple governments around the world. Overwatch would be more than happy to accommodate you in that time, provide you with rudimentary prosthetics. So there is a chance of having all your charges dropped, it’s just… an unfortunately small one through at least half a dozen legal systems and a lot of tedious litigation.”

“But I don’t think that’s what you want,” said Gabriel keeping a steady gaze on Genji, “From what I hear, you’re more than eager to take the Shimada clan down.”

“’s better than my deal, anyway,” said McCree with a huff. Gabriel shot him a glare and McCree just gave him a shrug.

Genji met Gabriel’s big brown eyes. Reyes was right, but he was right in a way that made the smoldering coals of Genji’s own fury blaze up inside him again. He did want this. He did want to take the Shimada clan down, but the idea that it might be for yet someone else’s ends infuriated him. This was his vengeance. No one else’s. And he let that rage penetrate through as he stared at Reyes, but Reyes met his eyes with a resigned calm. A patient, weary look of, ‘Noted. Whenever you’re ready to move on.’ And a part of Genji felt that look should have made him angrier, should have pushed him further in to that fire and darkness, but instead Genji felt his brow crinkling slightly. He realized in that moment that he was not the first person the Shimada clan had hurt. And he would not be the last. It only stung deeper for him because that was his family. But it wasn’t his family any more. And there were a few confused seconds of floundering fury where Genji wanted to cuss Reyes out, wanted to storm out as dramatically as his stupid wheelchair would allow, but he remembered his own words to Doctor Ziegler.

“What do I have to do to see my brother’s head on the ground as quickly as possible?”

“There’s plenty of time to--” Gérard started.

“I’m in,” Genji’s voice was flat.

“Good to hear,” said Gabriel with a casual nod.

“But I want direct involvement with every Shimada clan mission,” said Genji, “Every one. If possible I want to be on the main strike team involved with each mission.”

“...after your physical therapy and psychological evaluations, we’ll do everything we can to--” Gérard started.

“You’ve got it,” said Gabriel, matching Genji’s voice in coldness and simplicity.

Gérard cast a sideways glance to Gabriel but Gabriel met his eyes with the same steadiness he met Genji’s with. Gérard cleared his throat. “But of course,” he said, only some slight hesitance in his voice.

“Well then,” said Reyes, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Welcome to the team, Genji.”

Genji’s eyes flicked between Reyes’, McCree’s, and Gérard’s faces for a few seconds. “...it’s that easy?” said Genji in the silence.

“Well yeah,” said McCree, leaning on Genji’s wheelchair, “First thing you gotta learn, bud: Blackwatch plays by its own rules.”

#overwatch #overwatch fanfic #genji shimada #gabriel reyes #gerard lacroix #jesse mccree #blackwatch

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