#like‚ it went from 'fun enough' to 'fucking aggravating' Real fast
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hhhhuh. are they- doing this on purpose???
#i have the game on story mode like always so combat Has been super easy. but starting exactly after the gera fight now suddenly it's gotte#n a LOT harder. like way more adds in a given fight than there have been and those Fucking heavy droids#I've had to heal myself more since nova geron than i have in the entire previous game or this one up til now combined#like‚ it went from 'fun enough' to 'fucking aggravating' Real fast#and the slow power has been the one i use in combat the least. even before it was a super. it's a puzzle power to me#i assumed it would go back to normal now that I've presumably calmed down a little but it didn't#and i was SO tired of getting stunlocked by those FUCKING droids that i was just like. ENOUGH#and now I'm sitting here wondering if the devs are Intentionally aggravating you into using your fucked up super#which is honestly really clever! but also i fucking hate it. i hate it when games are hard 😠#chi plays jfo#chi liveblogs
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Hi! Me again. Do you have any headcanons about the JTTW gang? I'd LOVE to hear all of them: the fluff, the funny, and the angsty. How did you think Tripitaka found SWK when he's inside the mountain itself instead of under it, and why? Why did Ao Lie reveal himself in his human for to the two at the bridge? In the book the trio met Zhu Bajie when the father of the the pig's wife requested their help to bring his daughter back, it even referenced this in the game, but in the flashback they met at Zhu Bajie's food stall where it seems like Trip was complaining about the food to the chef. How do you think the showdown between Sha Wujing and the quartet went down in this verse? Who do you think Wujing challenged first?
hey! sorry i'm replying to these a day late T^T
so imma assume you meant the jttw gang in the context of lmk bc any headcanons of them within the book is a tough one for me bc i'm still reading through it and trying to differentiate between what's a translation issue and what's "canon" is a time :)
anyway,
i think i mentioned this before, but i love the idea of Sun Wukong finding comfort in Tripitaka and Ao Lie out of the rest of the companions post-journey. like if he were ever in a slump or feeling overwhelmed he would go to them (or they would reach out to him if they notice swk being less chipper and talkative). i think even before Wukong's isolation, he would not go out and visit people as often, mostly keep to his friends and allies (how many few they were now).
also, Ao Lie would take Wukong on so many trips into the city just as an excuse to hang out and give swk a chance to be outside. i have an inkling that Ao Lie is the type to get lost or accidentally find himself in a precarious situation that swk would have to help him from (taking a wrong turn and finding himself face-to-face with a gang or something for example, and, being the conservative warrior he is, Ao Lie would not fight them or anything). one of Ao Lie's favorite places would be the city's theater districts because it was the most colorful, and Wukong would allow the dragon to drag him along anyway, past memories be damned.
with Tripitaka, i think Wukong enjoys making playful jabs at the monk for funsies. when they were originally acquainted, these jabs were more hurtful and condescending and aggravated the monk to no end. now tho, the jabs are in good fun, and Tripitaka's sighs are more jovial than exasperated. (though he does have times when the exasperation does come bc Wukong is nothing if not a monkey hell-bent on mischief, and Tripitaka always seems to be the guy he calls to help bail him out. out of love of course.) and given that i am a "Tripitaka and Sun Wukong's relationship wasn't abusive" truther, i like to believe that both monkey and monk view their relationship as something that resembles familial and brotherly.
Wukong and Zhu Baije i headcanon as rivals to friends who are still rivals but now care for each other deeply. they will shit-talk each other, they will get into spats, they will threaten to murder the other ("roast pork-let on a stick" and "make their own monkey pelt skirt"), they will give Tripitaka and Sandy/Sha Wujing the worst of headaches but it's with love <3
Wukong and Sha Wujing are comedian buddies. i am so sure about this, the pregnancy chapter confirmed it to me. Wukong told me himsel-
but enough about my opinions about their alleged relationships in th lmk context....for le questions!!!
well, from what i remember, Ao Lie first introduced himself as, and to quote Red from OSP, "an enormous fuck-you dragon" before changing shape into his human form. so, probably during his little skirmish with Wukong (+ Tripitaka hiding behind a rock), he realized that the two were supposed to be his companions on the journey, and switched up real fast to show them that he's actually friendly!
i do think it's interesting how Zhu Baije's story is different 👀 i'm guessing they changed it to show some similarity to Pigsy and his ancestor? so the reference we saw in the game could have just been an in-book easter egg??? i honestly don't know why they changed that, but it is funny to think that Zhu Baije was a cook who met the gang when he captured Tripitaka so that his business could boom with serving specialized, holy monk meat 😂 i can, like, imagine Wukong busting down the doors of Zhu baije's "restaurant" demanding that he give the demon his monk back lmao (but that also adds another bit of confusion bc Zhu Baije was chosen by Guanyin, Goddess of Mercy, to be one of the pilgrims for the journey, so he should have recognized that the monk he wanted to eat was the monk he was supposed to protect? unless in lmk, Guanyin didn't go out and choose companions for Tripitaka?????)
now for the showdown with Sha Wujing, i bet 100 bucks that the order of fights went like this:
Sha Wujing asks/demands which if the four would fight him to be called the "strongest demon of all,"
Wukong opts for going bc he's the fucking Monkey King™️,
Zhu Baije says fuck that bc he is NOT gonna let the monkey show off again,
Zhu Baije loses, Wukong offers to help (not really, he did that to piss the pig off) & Baije tells him to fuck off,
Baije loses 3-5 times later, tripitaka pleads for the pig demon to stop and just "let the monkey do it, dear Buddha,"
Wukong rolls up his sleeves,
Sha Wujing laughs and calls Wukong puny,
Sha Wujing is pomelled to the ground without breaking a sweat,
Baije complains that he helped weaken the river demon for Wukong
exactly like that, yeah
#hope i answered them well!#it got a little long lol#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk sun wukong#jttw#jttw crew#sun wukong#lmk tripitaka#lmk ao lie#lmk zhu bajie#lmk sha wujing#asks
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Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.
| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |
| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |
| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |
| Word Count: 1,706. |
———
| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |
| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |
| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |
———
Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”
Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.
She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.
Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”
Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.
He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”
There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.
Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”
Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.
There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.
Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”
Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.
Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.
Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.
She stops.
Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.
At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…
She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.
———
Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.
She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.
He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.
“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”
With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”
“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.
She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”
Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”
“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.
Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.
A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.
Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”
“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.
He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.
“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.
Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.
He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.
His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.
And then it all fades away.
———
Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.
A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.
Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”
Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.
The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”
Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”
Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”
Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”
His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”
“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”
Adrien shakes his head silently.
“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.
He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.
She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”
———
| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |
| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |
| @jasonette-july-event |
#Maribat#DC x MLB#MLB x DC#Jasonette#Jasonette July#JasMari#MariJay#Marinette x Jason#Jason x Marinette#Jasonette July 2021#Jasonette July Saturday Challenge#Jasonette July Hurt No Comfort#Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture#YSPEWF#Sham's Posts#Sham's Writing#Sham's Fics
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winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?
5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you
Two hours.
Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm. And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this.
Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles.
He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.
The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.
Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”
“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?”
Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food.
“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”
Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them.
“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”
“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”
A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”
Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”
The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.
“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”
“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”
“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”
Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.
“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”
“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”
“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”
In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches.
“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”
“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”
“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”
“It’s a nickname.”
“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”
“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”
“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”
“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”
“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”
“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, “nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”
“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.
“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”
“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes.
“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.
“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”
“Absolutely.”
“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”
“How come?”
“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”
There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”
Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like.
Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.
-------------------------------------
Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell.
It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.
Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.
“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”
Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”
“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”
His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.
“What the fuck man!?”
“I’m so sorry about this!”
“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.
“I can’t, I need the truck.”
“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”
“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.
“It sure feels like it is!”
Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight.
“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.
“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.
“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”
“....fuckin what?”
“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”
“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”
“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.
“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”
“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”
Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists.
Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.
Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief.
“Are you fuckin hard from this?”
There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”
Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”
“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”
More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”
“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.
“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”
Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”
“C-consider it granted.”
The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”
“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind.
There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.”
Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks.
“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”
The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps.
“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”
“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”
“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”
Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs.
“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”
“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.
“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes.
“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.
“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.
“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does.
As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel.
“Sensitive, sugar?”
“Yes.”
“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”
“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”
Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).
He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest.
“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.
“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”
“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind.
“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”
“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”
“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road.
Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”
Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler.
“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”
“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”
“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”
The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..
“You think I’m telling the truth.”
“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”
“I don’t want to go back to prison.”
“You won’t.”
“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”
“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”
“We?”
Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”
Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”
“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”
“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”
“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”
“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”
Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.
“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”
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(Fic) One thing we can agree on
Title: One thing we can agree on (Wattpad)
Setting: The vampire nonsense / Vegas Masquerade
Warnings: Gore. I am having fun with my crayons.
Words: 1401
Summary: Flashback into the 'Moonlight Flush' part of the timeline. Which is the framing of the events of ~twenty years ago in the Vegas Masq. setting (which set up the current ‘rules’) as an urban fantasy police procedural; where Joplin would have been the secondary main / intro to the supernatural world and Belton the Season One antagonist who ended up Sort Of Befriended(ish).
This would have been in approx. Season Three, when bits from Joplin's past come back to bite him (er, again, I guess), and involves the first time he'd actually had to team up with Belton against a larger problem.
The larger problem being: more werebears, but asshole ones.
Indulgent, but I enjoy Belton being a dramatic irritation, and ~27yr old Joplin's permanent state of exasperation. And I wanted to explore an important (?) difference in the way the vampires and were(s) of this setting work.
(Also neither tumblr nor Wattpad has any sensible way to use footnotes, so there's one just... there, in the middle. Like this is FFN cira 2003 or something.)
---
The real difference between vampires and werewolves is how they bleed.
Clearly it isn't the only difference. There are the big, obvious - hairy - ones; and you could spend lifetimes comparing technicalities of characteristic amongst the supernatural set, searching for links or diversions or even a root cause. How magic plays in. How inheritances work, or the fundamental incompatibility of cross-siring. How sunlight, direct or orbitally reflected, could possibly trigger the different effects that it does.
But for Denis Joplin, as he'd scrambled to make sense of the extraordinary left turn his last decade had careened into, somehow the thing that really seemed to underline it all was the way they bled. Maybe because he'd always had such a damn knack for getting into situations that showcased it.
That last round of gunfire had really screwed up his right arm. He'd wedged himself in place against the thick struts of a heavy-duty shipping container - splattered almost as much now with crimson as it was with spraypainted Cyrillic – and tried to breathe quietly. The enormous bastard wielding a goddamn helicopter canon had fucked off to yell 'roided nonsense into a different part of the warehouse, so they probably had a few minutes pause before he realised his targets had dodged.
Not dodged as well as Joplin'd have liked, but there y'go. You worked with what you got.
Most of the bullets had gone straight through – since he wasn't an armour-plated van – but he could feel a few wedged points of pain even within the jellied miasma of broken flesh that hung unpleasantly from his torn shirt.
"Jesustapdancing-" he bit down on the mismatched curse as he grabbed his messed-up limb with his other hand and twisted, pushing it up against himself and the steel wall behind, and tried not to go blind.
It squelched.
"Don't like that," he muttered, then glanced up at the wet snort of amusement from just down the container row. "Hey, he nailed you to the fuckin' wall about as well as I've seen; don't get lippy."
Not that his extremely temporary partner was in much shape to be more actively sarcastic. The brunt of the recent salvo had hit taken Belton pointy-ear to hip, ripping the big grey fuck open like a side character in chainsaw splatter, which – somehow – made the look of dazed amusement on the bits of his face that weren't hanging off even more aggravating than usual. He shifted position, bringing his torn-up arms out in front of him as if holding something narrow and invisible in both hands, and –
Joplin blinked.
Pull... yourself...
"Oh fuck off," he growled – and it was a growl, a sound that started deeper than his chest actually went and brought the pull along with it; a bestial reverb that went beneath his bones. Joplin gritted his teeth – which felt about ready to start moving in his jaw as it was, aching with something beyond nerves – and had another unpleasant feel around where his elbow used to be. It helped if everything was in the right place. Last thing he needed right now was having to rebreak a limb because he'd managed to shift over all wonky.
That'd have to do. Very pointedly not making eye contact with Belton as he did so, Joplin Changed.
There have been a lot of renditions of a lycanthropic* transformations over the years, and there have even been some that have come close to the actual reality of seeing it happen. The exact visuals tend to vary person to person, but however it looks, the world bends – just a little, at the seams – as something that was only ever the thickness of breath away steps forward. Joplin always thought it felt like stretching should do – an all-over, unfurling release of physicality, like every fibre of you stopped hunching its shoulders all at once.
________________________________________________________________
* There's an argument that 'ursanthropic' might be a more technically correct term when the reader is considering Denis Joplin himself – or even the bellowing figure currently firing 30mm rounds into what will turn out to be a container of tinned garlic pallets – but the linguistic side of paraphylogeny isn't a popular field. 'Actually, it's wereBEAR' is only a helpful correction under certain circumstances, and this isn't one of them.**
** Yet. ________________________________________________________________
The arm took a bit more effort. A transformation that added several feet in height, width, and summed-up hair length didn't exactly have a problem fixing a half-mulched limb, but there was clearly an additional process going on. He wondered how people had explained what it looked like before timelapse film had been developed.
It... healed. Torn vessels sealed over; bone shards scraped and swelled together within muscles that bulged crimson-purple as they knitted close. Tissue bloomed, bruise-blossom hues racing through tattered skin and dragging raw pallor behind them; black-bloody tears welled up pink and grey and pink again, threaded with ribbons of tendon herded into place by a lightning flash of sudden scars, gone as fast as they appeared. Then the fur broke surface like desert flowering, and a heartbeat later there was nothing to show for the damage that a slight extra paleness in the iron-grey pelt, as Joplin flexed his bulked-out fingers carefully.
Belton clapped. Just once, with a softness that hands tipped with inch-long claws shouldn't be able to achieve, and it was the most sarcastic fucking sound Joplin had ever heard. He bared his considerable teeth in a silent snarl and waved his own padded hands towards the old bat.
Hurry. Up.
Belton's black eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he pulled himself back together.
The real difference between vampires and werewolves is how they bleed.
Belton's blood was dark, with a strangeness to its consistency that would have baffled splatter analysts on a fundamental level, but it also didn't tend to stay where it landed. None of him did. Metal gleamed naked against the pitted concrete as pools of inky crimson pulled away from the bullets that had torn them loose, flowing back along their own path like a retreating tide - rivulets of reversing gore that snaked and whipped back up their origin form, trailing back into ruptures that folded seamlessly shut around them. Belton stood up, even as his chest cavity was still closing, and gently pushed his hanging jaw back into place, smoothed like fresh clay.
Vampires don't heal – you see – so much as 'rewind'.
He held Joplin's gaze, half a heartbeat longer than he needed to, and grinned.
There was a spotless bullet held between his rows of teeth.
"Oh, fuck off," Joplin repeated – before he was drowned out by a guttural roaring, and the sound of a minigun barrel being smashed through something unfortune enough to be inside its turning circle.
"Little pigs, little pigs! I hear you!"
Both men visibly winced.
"See, someone with that little self-awareness just shouldn't be this much of a problem," Belton muttered, flicking the bullet aside like a cigarette butt. "It's genuinely a bit embarrassing."
"Yeah, well," Joplin whispered back, as he scanned the roof, taking in the environment with an eye to traversal options he hadn't had five minutes ago. "I won't tell if you don't."
Another roar burst the air, and Belton started edging down the row again, clearly doing his own version of the calculations.
"Pity he doesn't take after your side of the family, really."
"This isn't a family situation," Joplin snapped back, readying himself to move when the oncoming footsteps got a bit closer. If he could get around, then maybe he could deke out the...
He glanced back, about to signal a go, and realised the old vampire was still looking at him, one of those impossible-to-read expressions on his weird bat face for a second, before he spoke softly.
"See, that's the thing with monsters. It's always going to come back to blood, one way or another."
A shiver danced down Joplin's extended spine, strong enough to stir the fur. That was a bit close for comfort – and from sodding Belton? He shrugged dismissively, only partly to himself.
"Yeah, well, this ain't gonna be the worst it gets. Try not t'get cut in half again."
Then the shipping container exploded in a nightmare of burning metal. Belton went right; Joplin went up; and everything else went on from there.
----
#Entofic#urban fantasy#The Vegas Masquerade#Knockoff Manbat lookin' bastard#first team up is a bitch#Denis Joplin
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Band Camp Day 3
"we can either be the picconets or the clarilos."
"The picc-a-nut?"
"clarilo it is"
August 17th, 2021
<< 3 >>
forgive me if this is short:
4 hours of sleep later, we're heading to the field with literal mugs of coffee in hand to start the senior prank
the prank today: hanging underwear on the band director's podium
it's a tradition. I've probably mentioned it in past posts
at 8:30, we start, I'm more anxious than ever bc of all the drama
practice, fundamentals, the works
ML2 doesn't clap for the DI's and it freaks me out bc I know it's bc she hates that I have it
I've literally been texting the picc drum major (her roommate) about it all of band camp
my marching today??? absolutely awful. I could barely pay attention or anything
it's ML2's bday!! so I have been trying to mention it a lot and get her recognition so that maybe she's not as angry at me
We got put in a temporary band block yesterday and it's??? terrible? I'd like for the temporary part to end bc we're still using it
today I did a lot of messing up, and I feel really bad and gross about it
there's been this issue that when we do stuff in our big band block, someone in the middle will mess up, and by the time it gets to the ends of the block (us, the piccs), it's a huge mess, and we get blamed
this happened and our DM (the other one, the one who plays alto) was like "I know when I'm wrong" and we were scrambling to figure out where we were supposed to be
lunch!
people from random sections have been eating with us. This is fine, but?? it seems really early. Do you guys even know your own sections?
full band rehearsal! it was uneventful
our first playing sectionals! we stickered our nametags, then played through a lot of songs
we actually did really well, which is probably because we're mostly returners (re: one freshman)
and!! we were worried that our SL was gonna be super nitpicky and she's not! she's super reasonable!
back to full band rehearsal. Our band director made us watch a bunch of videos?? like they were sorta related to what we were doing but eh
I've been doing a lot of exchanging glances with the alto drum major. Mostly about ML2
we also?? have to move section bonding? which usually happens on Thursday night? I told our section leader that she needs to take that day off from her CA stuff, but she didn't, and now she works that night. Finding a replacement was aggravating, and we chose an hour and a half window on Sunday
that's not enough time, and it's... mediocre at best, really
it doesn't leave much space for fun things
dinner! the other librarian staff person is very well known for making really weird food combos that are super gross, and she is on a roll this week, lemme tell ya
a couple days ago it was coffee and chicken, there was cake and meat sauce at one point, etc
"If I can eat it, it's not a dog"
after dinner was more marching
our band director said he was writing pregame drill tonight, which means us drill librarian staff will have our hands full in the morning
did i mention the IMMENSE AMOUNT OF ANXIETY i have about being leadership bc of certain other members in the section?
it's so bad that our section leader had to give us the "don't talk about other members behind their back" speech
we did our singing at the end, and the 5th years led. One of my best friends is a 5th year, and there's only, like, 5 total, and it was really cute
very last of the real ones
and then we flash mobbed the hey song to scare the freshmen, like we do every year, even though we usually do it in the band room
our freshman caught on to the movements fairly well
the night activity was the scavenger hunt!
on the drive to the main part of campus, i asked if we are still doing the "not last" chant, and ML2 was like "I think the other sections get annoyed at it"
I texted our DM bc I was sad that we're retiring the chant
we get out of the car and the piccs aren't sitting in their usual spot which is like the icing on the cake for my stress rn
and then my SL comes up to me and is like "I'm gonna start the chant"
"did [DM] talk to you?"
"yeah, and I wanna do it"
"let's just... wait and see"
but then later, one of the piccs started it, so at least we chanted it and I'm not the only one who cares
the clarinets only had one returner show up (one of my really good friends), so they requested to combine with a different section, and the piccolos all raised their hands up after a moment and shouted "PICCOLOS" so they joined us!
it was sorta scary bc that's a lot of people? we had all 10 of us, and there was a good amount of them, and we only have 15 minutes to run around and do things
but literally no one else wanted them (one of the clarinet freshmen even begged the drumline to take them) and we're friends with them, so
the scavenger hunt began, and SL did an amazing job of leading. I got to help with it! i called out prompts
and DANG were we efficient
we werent even late to getting back
usually while the scores are being calculated, we dick around, and every section did plenty of that, including us, but it was kinda awkward bc the senior piccs wanted no part of it
i was upset bc why can't we just,,, not separate ourselves like that. Why do we have to be different and extra and not social
I stayed with the seniors bc I was more scared of leaving them, but I was annoyed
after scores were calculated and we were all standing together, I went around and said "reminder! all we want is not last" and I get back to my place where I was standing to hear the seniors just like "idc what we get, I just wanna go home"
cool thanks
but we didn't get last!! and we did sorta scream bc that's huge!
last place had 41 points
AND THEN WE DIDN'T GET SECOND TO LAST
YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE LOOKS ON OUR FACES
but then we
DIDN'T GET THIRD TO LAST EITHER
at this point we're holding our breath, not screaming, just giving each other Looks
how well did we do? we had such a big section
fast forward to them announcing fourth place, and that wasn't us either, we were all whispering about how we ranked. No matter what, we were first, second, or third, and that's like getting a medal
and we weren't third
"first place had significantly more photos"
that kinda where we all accepted that we got second
and WE FUCKING WON WITH 81 POINTS
WE
WON
WE WON MY FRESHMAN YEAR AND NOW MY SENIOR YEAR
THAT'S H U G E
piccolos don't win things
we don't even know the clarinets
we called ourselves the clarilos
we're so fckn stoked about our win, guys, it hasn't even set in, really
NOT LAST NOT LAST NOT LAST
#I fell asleep while writing this last night#so lets see if I can catch up and write two tonight#band#band camp#marching band#cbc#2k21 bc adventures#rant#cpb speaks
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dossier — JET.
FULL NAME. jet
MEANING. named after the gemstone, it is known as a highly prized magical and protective stone, meant to guide those on their journeys and protect against evil.
NICKNAME. n/a
GENDER. cis male.
ETHNICITY. earth kingdom
HEIGHT. 5′11″
AGE. 16/17 ( verse dependent ).
ZODIAC. aries ( passionate, motivated, and confident leader / impulsive, temperamental, daring ; element : fire. ; ruling planet : mars. )
SPOKEN LANGUAGES. verse-dependent ; multilingual .
physical characteristics !
HAIR COLOR. dark brown, almost black in some shades
EYE COLOR. a dark hazel, perceived as brown unless in the right light they have hunts of a forest green
SKIN TONE. warm brown
BODY TYPE. between ectomorph and mesomorph ; has the body of a martial artist
ACCENT. /
VOICE. confident, somewhat drawling , someone who when speaking everyone listens to despite what volume he’s using.
DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous
POSTURE. slightly hunched but because everyones so fucking short, in all fairness. THE WAY HE CHOOSES TO SIT IS ON HIM, THOUGH. he has a relatively loose and confident stance, often putting his hand on his hip
SCARS. beneath his clothes, he is actually branded with several areas of scar tissue from sword fights and burn marks -- significantly ones that wrap around his ankle when he couldn’t climb a tree fast enough and on his shoulders and upper-arms. he also has scars ( undetermined location ) from having to be self-taught with his lethally sharp hooked swords.
TATTOOS. eventually he does in modern verse via stick-and-poke...
MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). his eyebrows are seemingly always in an arched state, he’s significantly taller than a lot of his company, and he has very fluffy/shaggy dark hair. he also usually is chewing on wheatgrass.
background !
HOMETOWN. a small earth kingdom village somewhere near gaipan
MANNER OF BIRTH. natural.
FIRST WORDS. undetermined ; debating on “ma” ( which daiyu was really happy about ) or “jet” ( which was a response to them saying ‘your name is jet’ , and him echoing that. ) alternatively, it’d be funny if it was something he wasn’t supposed to repeat, like a curse word.
SIBLINGS. n/a, but he thinks of the freedom fighters as his siblings.
PARENTS. daiyu ( birth-mother, deceased ). qingling ( non-biological mother, deceased ).
PARENT INVOLVEMENT. raised by two mothers until the age of eight years old when they were murdered ; his biological father wasn’t really in the picture, but I’m still weighing between whether he was merely a donor or someone daiyu was in a relationship with but went off and was killed in war, and qingling stepped in the picture to originally help but in the process they fell in love with each other ; up until his parents deaths, they were extremely loving and protective of him, attempting to balance between letting him have fun and educating him in very blunt means on the horrors unraveling around them. jet loved both of them equally, and mourned them intensely. in how he raises the freedom fighters and orphans he takes in, he mirrors a lot of their mannerisms and keeps their legacy alive in that way. ( hot take: they would be very proud of who he became, though greatly saddened by the cause for it. )
OCCUPATION. social activist, public speaker, and founder of post-war orphanages and shelters.
CURRENT RESIDENCE. changes depending on his travels, but he likes to stay in the earth kingdom
FINANCIAL STATUS. born in a respectable “middle-class” home turned destitute
CRIMINAL RECORD. theft, aggravated assault with a weapon, attempted murder, acts of terrorism, murder ( though out of self-defense or legal in war-setting facing hostilities )
VICES. anger, arrogance, swearing, wrath
relationships !
CLOSE FRIENDS. all his freedom fights <3 , eventually he likes to consider aang a close friend with hopes for the rest of the group.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. demi/biromantic.
LOVE LANGUAGE. physical touch & acts of service.& words of affirmation
RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. jet is fairly unexperienced regarding romantic relationships as his priorities have been directed towards survival and familial bonds ; as a resort of this, he often makes exceptions towards romantic interests by bridging the familiar with the new, picking partners that can reflect what traits he praises himself for: goal-oriented, seeking justice, talented, can hold their own, and come with flaws. he is very affectionate when having romantic attraction and tries to find ways to hold their hand or face or shoulders. he does have jealous tendencies based off fear of loss, but over-all those of romantic interest are those he has deep admiration for and trusts them. he will only be protective if he feels like he needs to step in, which in case he doesn’t hesitate. seeing as he’s NEW to relationships, he will go about having conversations about what they like and don’t like, what they do and don’t want him to do. he’s big on communication. it should, however, be noted he has slight manipulation tendencies/tactics if he feels he has to prioritize something over the relationship.
miscellaneous !
THEME SONG. Landslide - Fleetwood Mac ( especially because of this video ) / You’ve Got to Run ( Spirit of the Wind ) - Buffy Sainte-Marie / Take Back the Power - The Interrupters
HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. practicing his swordsmanship, sparing, climbing as high as he can and seeing how fast he can either get down, or helping others pass the time by inventing games. On the occasion when he wants alone-time, he spends time trying to mimic bird-calls.
MENTAL ILLNESSES. severe case of post-traumatic stress syndrome ( ft. insomnia, constant attempt to re-live/re-enact trauma, violent flashbacks, constant vigilance, angry outbursts, intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma. ), possible borderline personality disorder ( seeking an explanation for such a black/white mentality , impulse, and rage that might not stem from PTSD, but unsure if i’m just projecting. )
PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. due to PTSD, his body suffers from a state of autonomic hyperarousal with hypervigilance, an enhanced startle reaction, and insomnia ; I’m still working out the lasting effects from the lake laogai incident
LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. a balance, but slight leaning towards right brain for creativity and intuition.
PHOBIAS. I would say he has pyrophobia, but he isn’t afraid of fire so much as the people who weaponize it ; and even then, he’s less scared of fire-nation, rather than scared of what they’re capable of. I wouldn’t put that under a phobia, as its reasonable or an attribute to his PTSD symptoms.
SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. extremely high to the point he almost has a god-complex and I debate if he has narcissistic personality disorder ; he is unbothered by criticism and is extremely self-assure and confident in everything he does.
VULNERABILITIES. it is very easy to manipulate jet by triggering his ptsd ; he also has lasting effects from the dai li brainwashing him to the point the phrase “the earth king has invited you to lake laogai” still triggers him, though not to the extremity aang had witnessed, as jet was capable of breaking out of it once and had a short-lived experienced with the dai li. ( HEADCANON UNDER CONSTRUCTION ) ; he is also extremely loyal to his friends and loved ones to a point he’ll do anything to keep them safe ( don’t mistake this as cooperation with the enemy, rather I will kill anything that stands in the way of their safety without hesitation )
TAGGED BY. stole from @burnbanished
TAGGING. YOU?
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My 2020 Tumblr Top 10
I did this last year and thought it would be fun to do it again this year. Happy new year, and may 2021 treat us all a little bit better.
~
1). 220 notes - Mar 8 2020
Gremlins – Bucky/Steve/Reader
This is a new shirt.
Bucky really likes it.
It, too, is gone.
“What the fuck,” Bucky says and flings the not-favorite shirt across the room. It lands with a ‘thud!’
And an “Mm!”
He whips his head around and sees you peeling the shirt off your face. You give it a once-over and then turn a wry smile at him. “At least it’s clean.”
You hand it back and look over the small piles of clothing scattered across the bedroom floor. “What’s going on? Is that shirt still missing?”
“Four shirts,” Bucky grumps and flings the one he’s holding down to the floor. He rests his forehead on your shoulder and sighs. “I don’t know what the hell I did with them.”
He expects comfort, but the way your body tenses is…confusing. At first he thinks he’s heavy or has somehow made you physically uncomfortable, but before he can pull away you rub his shoulders and absolutely every aspect of that motion feels awkward.
And when you say, “I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually,” he knows you’re hiding something. He just doesn’t know what.
Or why.
2). 167 notes - Jun 19 2020
Life of the Party – Bucky Barnes/Reader
“Don’t relax; we’re not safe yet.”
You don’t even realize it at first; you’re so fucking done with the whole damn day you just roll your eyes and say, “Boy, you’re a real party, huh?”
He freezes in the middle of loading a gun and you gasp when you realize when he just said. Well shit.
“You know,” you chuckle, because what is your life right now, “–I thought we’d be in the middle of pulling off a prank or something. Not, you know, a war zone.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t…think of it,” he says, then flinches and looks at you, brows creased in worry. Or is that aggravation? No, that looks like worry.
“Cool,” you say and smile at your soulmate. “I have no expectations to live up to. That’s nice.”
The lines in his face soften. He raises one eyebrow. “What expectations do I have to live up to?”
You run your hand over your arm absently, though the words are covered by a jacket. His eyes flick there and linger. “Well, I always thought you were a troublemaker,” you say lightly. “But here you are, saving my life.”
3). 72 notes - Sep 20 2020
Marry Me – [established] Steve Rogers/Reader and [past/future?] Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
A hand sets on your shoulder and you flinch. “Sorry,” the voice says. He sounds gentle, so you look up with a cautious sense of hope.
You gasp at who it is. “Bucky?”
His smile is pained, but he holds out his hand and helps you up. “I guess Steve told you at least some of it.” He looks back and frowns, then faces you. “I’m sorry but we’ve gotta go.”
“I should call Steve,” you say and pull out your phone.
“No. In fact–” Bucky snatches it from you and tosses it into a nearby garbage bin. You barely get out an offended yelp before he’s dragging you along.
“They’re tracking it,” Bucky says, speeding up. “And they’ll be back soon.”
You get to a motorcycle and Bucky grabs a helmet and holds it out towards you. “I know Steve doesn’t have a lot of reasons to trust me right now, but please. I want to help.”
You take the helmet, because you trust the latter sentence. And it’s not his fault he’s wrong about the former. You think you’re the only one who actually knows why.
4). 67 notes - Jan 5 2020
Dinner Date: Chapter Two – Steve Rogers/Reader
“Hi lovebirds.”
I jolted back from the table as someone– two someones– slid into the empty chairs on our sides. It was just Clint and Natasha, but they looked shockingly normal and well-matched. Clint looked nice, like a normal person and not an absolute disaster, while Natasha seemed mildly dressed down in an obviously well-loved jacket and muted colors.
“Is your hat a polar bear?” I asked, staring at her beanie. It had little ears and everything. “That is so fucking cute.”
“Thanks,” she said and pulled over a menu from the little stand in the center of the table.
Steve cleared his throat. “Natasha. Clint. What are you doing here?”
“Looking into a new lunch place,” Natasha said, not even looking at him. “It’s a free country, Steve.”
“Then maybe you can get your own table, Natasha.”
I had no idea what the hostility was all about but Clint started picking at Steve’s plate, distracting him long enough for Natasha to lean closer to me and say my name. “So you’re making an honest man out of our captain?” she said.
“Oh my god Natasha.” Steve was so red I practically had to smother myself to keep from laughing. “We talked about this!”
“We did,” she agreed easily but angled her body towards me. Something about her face made it easy for me to stop laughing. “You said I couldn’t talk to her while she was on her own. So now you get to be present for it.”
At first I couldn’t fathom what ‘it’ was, until I took in Steve’s face (a mixture of annoyed and concerned), Natasha’s body language (very business-like), what Natasha had said (about making an “honest man” out of Steve), and added it all together.
“Is it shovel-talk time?” I asked in wonder.
5). 62 notes - Jan 28 2020
A Little Pickle – Gabriel/Reader
“Gabe.”
“I’m just saying– we have to wait for our heroic rescuers anyway, so why not have a little fun in the meantime?”
“Gabriel.”
“Oh no. Full name.”
“Oh yeah full name. However, ‘on the bright side,’ I now have one whole bar of cell service and I’m sending a text out.”
“Don’t you want to wait?”
“No. Oh look, it just went through.”
“Shit.”
6). 60 notes - Nov 11 2020
Dinner Date Chapter 12 – Steve Rogers/Reader
He didn’t say anything at first. He turned slightly to wrap both arms around me in a hug. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he murmured and squeezed momentarily. “I can promise that.”
“I believe you. I trust you, so much,” I said. I kissed his shoulder. “Thank you. For staying with me, and not going after him– even though I know you probably wanted to.”
“I did,” he admitted. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay more.”
I took a satisfyingly deep breath. Sleep was pulling hard. “You’re the best.”
“And you’re soft,” he said and gave me a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”
“I know.” I smiled and let my body relax fully at last. “I trust you.”
7). 58 notes - Dec 22 2020
Supernatural Fic Masterlist
8). 52 notes - May 15 2020
Dinner Date Chapter Seven – Steve Rogers/Reader
“Hello Natasha,” I said to the woman looking intently through my cupboards. I had a bunch of questions: ‘what are you looking for,’ ‘do you think I keep a safe in there,’ ‘your hair looks very bouncy today are you going somewhere nice,’ and, my personal favorite, “How did you get in my apartment?”
“Trade secret,” she said and shook a half-empty box of cereal. Okay, by the sound of it there was a lot less than half. “Do you not have any real food?”
9). 49 notes - Feb 27 2020
Dinner Date Chapter Five – Steve Rogers/Reader
“I’m sorry,” I said, still buried in his shirt. “It was really nice.”
“It was.”
“I’m sorry I fucked it up.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” he said, too quickly.
“I did; I just got…overwhelmed, I guess?” I lifted my head for a moment, barely caught a glimpse of his expression, and then immediately shoved my face back in his chest. “That sounds stupid; forget I said anything.”
He shook with quiet laughter and I grumbled, “Shut up or I’ll pinch your tit.”
“Don’t move too fast for me sweetheart,” he said and, damn it, that made me laugh. He cleared his throat and said, “Would it make you feel any better to know you weren’t the only one feeling overwhelmed?”
10). 48 notes - Feb 11 2020
Dinner Date Chapter Four – Steve Rogers/Reader
“What time is it?” I asked, already sinking into a measure of comfort. At last.
“Almost midnight,” Steve said, sitting next to me. He handed me the cow, which was nice, but…
“It’s late,” I said and looked at him. “Do you want to stay tonight?” Wait, that was terrible, I was gross. “You can have the bed, if you want; I can take the cou–”
I didn’t even get up on my elbows before Steve lay down, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me into him. I snuggled even closer and he flicked off the bedside light.
“You know if you wanted me to stay you could just say so?” he chuckled in the warm dark.
“It seemed rude to assume you’d want to,” I said and shut my eyes. “You’ve been so good to me. I don’t want to…take advantage.”
“I don’t mind,” he said softly, running his hand up and down my back. “I hated being sick. I like being able to help.”
“Mmm.” I started drifting off. “Did you have someone to take care of you?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, a little sadly. “My ma was busy a lot but she always did what she could. Bucky took over the job. He was even stricter than she was.”
“Good,” I said. “You would need someone to browbeat you into bed.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I really did,” he said fondly. “But you couldn’t blame me. God; the home remedies we had…”
“Don’t give me nightmares,” I said without meaning it.
“All right,” he whispered, a smile in his voice. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
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The most aggravating thing about the radfem anti-makeup discourse, on a personal level?
That whole “don’t buy in to patriarchal beauty standards, resist conforming at all costs” attitude was almost identical to my mom’s reasoning behind not allowing me to do the fun shiny stuff I wanted to do. She thought she was “protecting” me from getting brainwashed into thinking that I had to be pretty to be worthwhile, but what ended up happening in reality was that I learned that I don’t deserve to own things that make me happy because they’re “wasteful”, and that I should be afraid of attracting ANY attention whatsoever, because all things bright, gaudy, attention-grabbing... I couldn’t have them, because drawing attention meant drawing negative judgment, in my mother’s social-anxiety-warped mind, and anything that went even a little bit beyond the bare minimum to serve functionally while avoiding looking so ugly as to be attention-drawingly so, was “wasteful”. And yes, I had experiences of growing up poor, but the real poverty hit when I was in high school, when my dad left and my mom lost her job within the same year. I’m talking here about stuff that was a well-established dynamic even when we were comfortably middle-class (my private-elementary-school life) and there was room in the budget for things like a burgundy leather four-piece living room set, a new car (not new-used, I mean an actual new car that no one else had ever owned) and occasional weeklong vacations to the coast. When my parents got me a kiddie passport because they genuinely anticipated being able to take an international family vacation soon enough for that to seem like a practical thing to get out of the way ahead of time.
Even for special occasions, where it would have been entirely socially appropriate for a kid to wear a glittery dress, I learned fast to always include an option in my clothing picks on the shopping trip that my mom would actually have a chance of approving, lest I be forced to wear something I hated. My opinions were taken into account JUST enough to give the illusion that I was truly being permitted choice. Just enough that most of the time, I could look in the mirror and not completely hate the reflection of someone else’s dress-up doll.
And contrary to maybe most AFAB folks’ experiences with similar dynamics of being forced to wear stuff that doesn’t really suit their personality... I wasn’t being forced into hyper-femininity. I was being pushed AWAY from it. Sure, there were Events where I was expected to wear a dress -- no hardship for me, I liked dresses just fine, I still do. But I wasn’t allowed makeup until I needed it for stage performance reasons (at which point I got to own one eyeliner, one blush, one mascara, and one eyeshadow quad. I still wasn’t allowed black mascara or eyeliner, just browns, because something something my mom’s assumptions about how complexions work and me being a brunette... YES I know that’s not ideal stage makeup don’t @ me, my mom wouldn’t fucking listen). I wasn’t allowed much in the way of jewelry -- I had a few small, subdued necklace pendants, but I wasn’t even allowed to get my ears pierced until middle school, and my earring options were heavily restricted afterward. I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs, I was only permitted clear nail polish. I wasn’t allowed to wear heels for the most part -- my first pair was half-inch high, plain cream-colored maryjanes, and I had to practically grovel to be allowed to get those. I wasn’t even allowed haircuts besides various lengths of straight-across-the-back and an option of fringe or no fringe.
Even as an adult my mom tries to bully me into conforming to her boring aesthetic sensibilities. She’ll say whatever she thinks I’ll find shaming enough to stop doing the thing she said it about. She’ll mock my “grand rebellion” in one breath and then tell me I “look just like everyone else” in the next. She’ll tell me I look like a trashy teenager and then turn around and tell me I look old.
Stop assuming that everyone grew up with the same pressures toward hyperfemininity that you personally experienced. Y’all sound like my mother with the assumption that I must only want any of the trappings of femininity because I’ve been brainwashed into it (despite that I also wasn’t allowed to watch tv that my parents hadn’t first watched and given approval for, or read magazines besides NatGeo and Readers’ Digest for the vast majority of my childhood), and y’all can fuck right off with that. My mom did her damnedest to brainwash me to NOT like makeup, nail polish, glitter, and Being Fancy. She failed overall, though she did succeed in leaving me with an internal flinch reaction every time someone Notices My Aesthetic, because her Notice meant a berating, and she impressed upon me that I can’t even trust a compliment from a stranger, because she insisted that if I had gotten any compliments at all on an outfit SHE didn’t like, that the compliments must entirely have been fabricated out of an attempt to “sabotage” me. But y’know what? I know how to hear the little inner voice that tells me what I like for myself, what actually makes me happy, and I’m not about to let trauma responses and brainwashing attempts keep me from doing the things that make that little voice SING.
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Dog Days of Summer- Ch 12
Dog Days of Summer- Chris Evans X plus sized reader. Dog days of summer are usually defined as the hottest of the year, some define it as lazy days. This year ‘hottest’ has nothing to do with the outside temp. You meet Chris and Dodger Evans while taking your own dog to the park.
Previous Chapter / Master List
Warnings: No warnings.
Chapter 12
On the way home you called the store and let them know about the cart in the middle of the aisle, apologizing for the abruptness. The rest of the time you stewed. You knew he had your best interests at heart, and if he had fessed up right after you don’t think you would have been so mad about it, but he hadn’t said a word. If you hadn’t ran into Matt would he ever have told you? He can’t just hide painful truths from you, especially because you hadn’t even known him that long. If he overstepped that much after just a couple of weeks, what would he do after six months? Would he try to hide things that happen on set or while he was away? You were done with being lied to and you really wanted to believe it was a one time thing, but really everything had moved so fast. Did you even really know this person aside from the interviews and things you’ve seen online? How much of feeling like you’ve known him forever and trust in him is from what you knew before, or the real person sitting beside you?
Chris touched the back of your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. Looking out to your apartment, you couldn’t be sure if it was relief or dread that the drive was so quick. He interlocked your fingers to bring your attention to your joined hands instead of out the window. “Sweetheart I’m so sorry. I knew that I shouldn’t have done it, or at least told you, but I didn’t want you to be hurt again. I had just gotten you calm and in the bath.”
“I know Chris.” Your focus still on your hands, his thumb running softly over your fingers. “The problem is, a lie of omission is still a lie and I promised myself after Matt I would never tolerate someone lying to me again. I just wish you had told me.” You release his hand. “Let’s go get Dodger.”
Chris is quiet until the elevator ride up. “Does that mean I’m not welcome?”
“God no Chris!” You turn to him, wanting to hug him but knowing you can’t right now. “I just need a little time and some space to myself.” The elevator doors open and you step out into the hallway, fiddling with your keys by the door. “Can you give me until Monday? That gives me the weekend to wrap my head around this. I really like you Chris, but I’ve got to figure out if I can trust this will be a one time thing.”
He nodded and you unlocked the door. The happy dogs sensing the mood, quickly calmed down. He leashed up Dodger while you held Popcorn to your chest. It hurt watching him go, but it’s the only way you could think clearly.
“Can I ask you something?” Chris turned back to you at the door. You nod. “In a relationship, what is the one most important thing for you?” That wasn’t the question you expected after your first fight, it was like a first date getting-to-know-you thing.
Lifting Popcorn up to your face, wanting to hide behind him you answered. “A year ago my answer would be loyalty, but it’s changed. I’ve changed. Now? Honesty, brutal honesty.”
“So for example, not that it would happen, but say I cheat. Fuck some rando girl after being away on set for 6 months. Even after all he put you through, you would be willing to forgive me if I was honest with you about it?” He sounded incredulous, but you nodded all the same.
“I wouldn’t be happy, but if we talked about it and came to an understanding, yeah I would.”
“I think you already know mine is loyalty.”
“Yeah, I know. Loyalty and trust.”
He turned back to the door, opening it. “Talk to you on Monday.” He said over his shoulder going down the hall to the elevator, not looking back at you even as the doors were closing.
You cried yourself to sleep that night. Popcorn wasn’t happy about how clingy you were being, constantly trying to wriggle away, but you just held on tighter until he gave up. Only when he started making noises of protest did you let him go his own way, calling him a traitor as he slinked down to the foot of the bed. It surprised you just how much it hurt after such a short amount of time. Finding out Matt was cheating on you wasn’t even this bad, you were just enraged at that. This you couldn’t even be really mad about what Chris did. You still didn’t like it, but understood his reasoning. Honestly you couldn’t wait until Monday and it scared you how strong you were feeling about that.
The next morning you woke up groggy, lonely and with a splitting headache from crying all last night. You went back to the little boring routine you had before Chris barreled into your life. It’s funny, nothing you and Chris did together was really what you would call exciting, but it was just more fun than laying around alone. Aggravated with yourself for thinking about him and missing him every minute wasn’t helping. What you needed was a distraction.
Online you look through different job websites, picking out positions that are near you and sound like something you would be hired for. You spent the rest of the afternoon filling out applications and sending out resumes. That night you had fitful dreams about paperwork chasing you and being labeled a psycho on the online personality tests.
Waking up again dog tired, you were coming to the realization that you might have to beg him for forgiveness just so you could get a good night's rest in his warm bed. It had only been a day and a half and you realize how attached you were to him. That was not a good sign for the days ahead, you didn’t know if you’d be able to handle him being gone frequently.
You spent the morning and afternoon checking your email for any response to your resume, answering the ones that did and setting up a few interview times. You kept glancing at your phone as you worked, debating if you should end the shut out early. Clearly your decision to forgive him had been made, now you were just hurting yourself and possibly him. If you called him early, would he think you were weak? That had been your issue with Matt. You had been a doormat and he took advantage of it. No, Chris wasn’t like that. You’d known that from the conversation on the bench at the park. If you close your eyes you can still feel the breeze and the warmth of his shoulder on your cheek. That felt like months ago when it had only been a few short days.
Mind made up you grab your cell phone. Looking at the time you remember that it was Friday and he was supposed to go out with friends tonight. On the one hand you wanted to tell him as soon as possible so he could have a good night, but you also didn’t want to disturb him. As you were fiddling with your phone, trying to decide what to do, there was a knock at the door.
Your whole body stiffened since there were only two people that could have gotten past the lobby door, Chris or Matt. Neither were expected and you weren’t sure which you were more nervous to be on the other side, for completely different reasons.
Another bang, bang, bang came through, sounding more like a fist then knuckles. Popcorn started to bark and ran over, trying to be as intimidating as a small chihuahua could be.
You walk over and try to look through the peephole, but you can’t see anything, just the wall across the way. So you shout through it. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
Your heart jumped back in your chest but kept the quick pace. Your mind flashing to a couple of weeks ago when that same voice stood outside your door.
Hand already moving to unlock and open the door, even with your brows drawn up in confusion. “Chris?” The smell of alcohol hit you first when you got the door barely cracked open. His appearance looked like normal, hair styled, clothes in place, but he was leaning heavily on your doorway and swaying a little. “Oh God, Chris how much did you drink? You didn’t drive here did you?” Trying and failing to look around him to see if someone carried him up to your door.
“No they rolled past and kicked me out of the car. Said they were tired of hearing me talk about you and to just make up already.”
You snort out a laugh. “Good friends.”
“I said you wouldn’t see me until Monday, but they didn’t listen.” He stared at you for a beat. “Hey you did open the door!” A look of surprise filters over his face.
“Yes I did and now I’m going to tell you to come in here.” You tug at his arm, pulling him over the threshold enough to close the door. Steering him to the couch and making him sit, you go to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and grab a glass of water. It’s not long before he stumbles from the couch to the kitchen. Turning off the sink faucet you thrust the glass of water under his nose. “Here, drink this, and I don’t remember telling you that you could get up.”
He takes the glass and finishes it in three gulps. “Why do I have to stay on the couch?”
“Because you are drunk and can barely stand on your own two feet. I don’t want you falling and getting a concussion.”
“But I missed you!” He says with a grin, flinging his arms around you.
Patting him on the back. “I missed you too.”
“Did you? You’re not mad anymore?” He mumbled into your neck. He had started to lean more weight onto you then you were comfortable with but you braced your legs and held him up.
“No I’m not mad, I was actually just about to call you when you showed up.”
“Really?” He pulled back, swaying a little, his face lit up like Christmas and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yes really. I still want to talk about it, but I forgive you.”
“No, no, no. Less talk, more kissing.” He leans in and you put a hand over his face laughing at his excitement.
“Go sit, I’ll bring you some coffee.”
“Ugggg.” he whines and flops face first on your couch.
When you come back with a cup of joe, you find him snoring softly into the couch cushions. Setting the mug down, you move his head so he could at least breath properly and grab a throw off the back of the couch to cover him. His feet still stick out, so you go and get a comforter off the bed and switch it out with the throw for yourself.
With your hands on your hips you shake your head at the passed out form and quietly begin to lock up. Changing into pjs and climbing into bed with the throw, you turn out the last light and fall asleep yourself. You feel the bed dip and look over to see Chris crawling in, wrapped up like a burrito in your comforter. Giving him a warm smile to let him know it’s ok, he moves in and covers you both up, pulling you against his chest. The bedside clock says 3am, you had only been asleep for a few hours, but he seemed a bit more sober than before.
“I missed you.” He breathed into your neck.
You reach back and pet his head. “I know, you already told me once tonight. I missed you too.”
“I didn’t know where I was at first when I woke up. Popcorn decided to lay on me and it startled me awake. Not use to a small thing jumping up on me.”
“What about Dodger? Will he be ok for the night?”
“I called my doorman, he said he would take him out to the bathroom tonight and in the morning.” He buried his face into your neck. “I’m sorry.” His voice rumbled into your skin.
You tighten your arms around his that are wrapped around you. “I know. I’m sorry too.”
He sat up a bit and turned you to be able to see your face. “What for?”
“I overreacted. I had the right to be mad but I went too far. I think some of it was how I’ve been treated in the past, but you’re not them and are allowed to make your own mistakes without me putting their leftover baggage on you.” Lifting a hand out of the covers you put it against his cheek, hoping to show him how much you missed him. He leaned down and slid his lips over yours, sealing them together for a sweet kiss that let you know you were forgiven too. “Still want to date the crazy woman?”
“As long as you can put up with my fanbase and anxiety, I can deal with your level of crazy, which is pretty much average. You’re way more sane then some of the women I’ve dated.”
Before you can ask about the number of crazy women he’s dated, he’s already back claiming your mouth. Rolling you to your back, you can feel him press against your side, his cock straining against your hip. It brings up all sorts of pleasant memories, but also another. “I distinctly remember saying there would be no booty calls on Friday.” You mumble into his mouth.
“I didn’t call, so it doesn’t count. Besides, we just made up from our first fight, I think we deserve makeup sex.”
“I think we need to get some sleep and for you to sober up.”
“I’m sober. Perfectly sober.” He replied with mock indignation.
“If that was true you’d have a splitting headache.” Even in the darkness of the room you could see his lip poke out in a pout, which just confirmed your suspicions. “How about a counter offer of morning sex and a big greasy breakfast when we get up?”
“Fine, but I only want to leave the bed tomorrow for food and to take the dog out.”
Your hand runs down his back as he snuggles back up to you, his head being pillowed by your chest. “I think that is one of your best ideas yet.”
After a bit of cuddling, you both get comfortable and start to drift off. You’re teetering right on the edge of sleep when his voice interrupts the quiet night. “I got my schedule. I’m leaving next week.” If you had been any further into sleep you never would have heard him, as it is you grow very still. You thought you had more time than this and it felt like cold water thrown on you.
“Next week?”
“Thursday.”
Swallowing down the breath you were holding, relieved it was at least the end of the week. Trying to pull as much cheerfulness into your voice as you can muster, you turn to him. “Sounds like we need pack a lot into this week. I think we can do it though, we just need to get organized and schedule out a plan of attack. You might need to do that because I suck at it. I figure we need to have sex, eat, have more sex, sleep, eat, take the dogs out at some point and just continue that cycle the rest of the week. Maybe also talk about the best way to stay in contact while you’re gone too, but that can be…” You were cut off by his mouth on yours. Even in the moonlight his eyes were bright and hopeful.
“So no thought about kicking me out?” He pulled away just enough to talk, but his grip on your hip was tight.
“Never for this, it’s your passion. Plus I quite enjoy watching your movies, but I think we established that.”
“Yes, obsessive fangirl if I recall correctly.”
You smack his arm. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Now it’s abusive fangirl.” He grumbles as he rubs the spot on his arm.
“Ya big baby. Go to sleep or I won’t take you out for breakfast.”
“Threatening to cancel breakfast and not morning sex?”
“That would be more of a punishment for me, not you.” You peck his jawline and snuggle closer, burying your face in his neck this time. Letting out a sigh as he rubs your back. “We can do this right? I mean you’ve done it before?”
“Yes, but if one of them worked out I wouldn’t be single right now. Ow!”
“You’re not single right now.” The teeth marks on his shoulder still visible.
“You know what I meant. You’re very violent when I’m drunk.”
“So you admit it!” You start giggling as he protests. “Nope you said it, so go to sleep.”
“Fine, but next time you drink too much I’m going to bite you back.”
“Promises, promises.” The words rumbled into his neck as he chuckles. Soon you’re both fast asleep, but you’re dreams aren’t in any less turmoil then when you slept alone. Only this time you were chasing him, never quite able to keep up.
Next Chapter
Only took a month to update this. Sorry about that. Hopefully it was worth the wait.
Thank you everyone that still keeps up with my blog!
@spidey-babe-parker, @stevieang, @albinotigerpython, @paintballkid711, @katykyll, @avengersrulez1536, @ultrafreespirit, @wantingtobekorra, @i-had-a-life-once, @ghostssss, @babybeluuga, @bodhi-black, @kanupps06, @hatterripper31, @grandloser, @reniescarlett, @kjidhzyx, @normanreedus5150, @ilovethings-somuch, @spiderman-2013, @bloodyvalentine93, @xx-raven, @passionghost, @prettybubblesintheair, @averyrogers83, @ria132love, @patzammit, @whom-the-fack, @pooslie, @3dsaunt, @kristiedwyer, @janeyboo, @theonelittleone, @aslandia726, @itsmysticalmystery, @stanclub, @geminimoonbeamx, @lookwhatyoumademequeue, @eyesfixedonthesun22, @mrsalh32611, @whatmakesmebeme-tblr, @isaxhorror, @kateelyse96, @hidden-treasures21, @aubreystilinski, @tnupsweetpie, @mikaelasingswritesloves, @webcraft4eveh, @fanfictionandjunk, @elizabeth-marie-moon, @linesal
#chris evans x plus size reader#Chris Evans#chris evans x reader#plus sized reader#dog days of summer
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(Okay, I’m going to do this in probably 3 parts because it’s long)
So The Department sorta happened because I wanted to get back into a regular weekly-updating online fic because, frankly, two reasons:
1) I’m worn out/exhausted/a bit burned out from working on novels and very little of anything else for the last year and a half, and
2) I crave/need the instant validation of the comment section at AO3, which you don’t get when you write a book :/
So I called a break, put away my manuscripts for a couple months, and am just indulging in some fun writing for a little while. And since I wanted something new (sorry WIPs, your time will come again) this is what we ended up with.
I don’t remember exactly what made me go with the police department premise. The potential for assholery and rampant egomania, most likely? Well, you know I love that shit when it hides something slightly more noble underneath...and I think I wanted a big ensemble cast because I just adore the dynamics that can occur in groups of disparate personalities who have known each other for a long time. That way they interact when they know each others’ secrets and there’s that one person new to the group who isn’t in on any of the jokes? Good stuff right there.
I do remember that the first ideas for this story came to me during the Professor Jeff’s Super Science Show at the library (yeah your guess is as good as mine on that but it happens literally every time). But if I’m being honest, I’d say it probably had more to do with Benny Hill than anything. I have this bad habit of sitting on the couch with my laptop on my knees, headphones on, head back, inventing scenes in my head that go along with whatever music I’m listening to. I’ve got this one insane playlist full of goofy tunes my 7-year old has requested for staging Thomas The Tank Engine crash scenes (don’t ask) and on this particular night that’s what I was listening to because why not. On that playlist is a 30-minute loop of the Benny Hill Theme. And all I could see in my head was a foot chase on ice and snow between a female officer, an out of shape Chief of police, a giraffe-legged office assistant, and a probably methed-up wannabe criminal who didn’t actually do anything major but was running anyway because he was bored. It struck me funny and I toyed with the idea of sticking it into something I already had started, because I do love me some chaotic slapstick.
So the next day I’m driving the boys home from the Super Science Show and I’ve been playing around with it in my head again, and it’s taking shape into something that I know I’m going to have to work with. We pass the Pupuseria Virolena Salvadoran restaurant downtown, and I start laughing because I’m suddenly hearing David Tennant trying to say that in his Scottish accent.
On the spot I named him Hawk and made him Captain. And now we have one of our characters, and by the time we pull up in our driveway ten minutes later I’ve got stuff needing to be written down right now.
(the rest is under the cut for length)
Chapter 1 - Prologue - Your Boatload of Bad Decisions Has Left The Harbor
I was so anxious to get into the story but it needed an introduction, or else Greta being in this podunk town wouldn’t have any weight. So we’re introduced to our heroine, who isn’t so much a heroine as just a decent if slightly too self confident special division officer who had some bad luck. It’s not elaborated on yet in the story, though it’s heavily referenced multiple times that she disobeyed an order and made the decision to continue a high speed pursuit that had been called off by her superior officer, the above-mentioned Captain Hawkins, whom Greta has something of a relationship with (yeah they’re screwing, what of it). And in the wake of that decision, Greta’s partner is killed and she’s brought up on charges, suspended, ordered to counseling, and finally shipped off to a small town in Minnesota so she can keep working while her final fate is decided by an investigative committee back in LA.
The opening chase scene was written from things I learned when I was a kid and my dad did vehicle tweaks for the Fort Worth police department from his auto shop. The officers used to hang out drinking Cokes and telling stories while dad made (possibly illegal) modifications to their cars. I was there a lot, sitting under his work bench with my books and pencils, listening to everything and remembering it all. And I thought it was so damn cool. So here we are. What else was I gonna do with that information? Might as well put it to use if it’s gonna be taking up real estate in my head for all these years.
For the record, I really liked Greta’s partner Joe and hated to kill him - but we needed a catalyst, and the cheerful best friend who sings Italian arias during chases while joyfully blasting out windshields is always gonna be the loser in the goner lottery. For once the male hero dies to further the female lead’s storyline.
Heh, take that Marvel.
Anyway, sorry Joe. There will be more about you in later chapters, so...gone but not forgotten.
Chapter 2 - Minnewhatever
This part starts out with the last bit of backstory we need to proceed. Hawk sending Greta off to Minnesota, a place whose name she never does remember or say correctly. She doesn’t figure she’s actually going to be there long enough to bother learning it, but Hawk informs her that her exile is likely to last at least a year, and he gives her very little reassurance that she won’t be serving every minute of her sentence.
Greta’s feeling a little betrayed here. She and Hawk have been sort of a thing for a while, friends and colleagues and lovers, but he’s washing his hands of the entire situation and she’s left angry and a bit bereft. But she still figures he’ll do something to get her out of it, if she’s patient and behaves herself in the new place.
Fast forward to day one in Weemeetwa. While drowning her aggravation in a bottle of the good stuff, Greta meets her first new acquaintance and decides to just go with the cranky fuck-it attitude that she’s been harboring since the incident, gets shitfaced, and goes home with the guy. This might have been a dual-purpose shag; Greta’s still feeling betrayed and abandoned by Hawk, so it’s a screw-you that he’ll never find out about - but that doesn’t stop it from feeling good in a vengeful sort of way. Plus it’s cold and she’s alone and the guy - Andy, a tall sweet longhaired cutiepie with an Irish accent - is all too willing to buy her a drink and take her home for some cuddles.
In the morning Greta wakes up in a strange place full of groaning regret and ends up giving Andy a ride to the station. She doesn’t count on seeing him again, so there’s no breath wasted on goodbyes.
Chapter 3 - A Logging Truck, A Mountain, and A Blonde Walk Into A Bar
Now we meet most of the department. Creeley, a gruff roughhouser with a rude streak forty miles wide, Sarah, the only other female in the department and possibly the only person alive who can keep the boys under control, Kevin, the quiet dispatch agent with an impressive mountain impersonation skill, and finally (for the moment) Chief, the slightly too good-looking and highly put-upon boss of them all.
I knew I wanted Tom Hiddleston to play Chief Tommy Davis. This is Kong Skull Island-era Hiddleston crossed with The Night Manager, with a handful of extra pounds around the middle and a frustrated sigh that goes on forever. He’s meant to be an ex hockey player who was waylaid on his way to the major leagues, so he’s strong and sturdy, but an injury benched him years ago and a career in small-town law enforcement has put him a bit to pasture. Middle aged, somewhere between 40 and 45. He’s got some stuff in his past but he’s happy now, for the most part, just living his life watching over the town.
Jason Momoa is Bobby Creeley, for obvious reasons. I knew I wanted a rowdy, rude, loudmouthed team member that’s always crossing everyone, but who everyone knows will be there no matter what if anything goes down. He’s instantly Greta’s nemesis from the moment she walks in the door. Gigantic and shaggy with a permanently amused nature and a fear of literally nothing, he’s simultaneously everyone’s best friend and worst enemy.
Sarah Lancashire has been finding her way into a lot of my fics lately as side characters, so it’s no surprise she ended up here as Sarah Pearl. Steely, tough, and highly immune to the idiocy around her, Sarah is the worn out voice of common sense that the department is running perilously short on. She’s also my first and foremost girl crush, and I’ll admit right now that I wrote an AU ending almost immediately that involved Sarah and Greta ending up together. It would be natural to assume Sarah would fall into the default role of mom to the group, but there’s a whole lot of oh hell nope wrapped around that trope. She would set them all on fire if anyone would let her have some matches, but Chief made a rule against that a long damn time ago.
Dave Bautista has been hanging around the back door of my muse stable for the longest, just minding his own business and waiting his turn, but I never really had any place to stick him. Well Drax, your time has come baby. I chose him to play Kevin Saylor based on his GoTG scene in which he tries to convince the crew he’s invisible. And that’s Kevin, in a nutshell. Huge and intimidating but quiet and intensely matter-of-fact in manner, he’s in charge of dispatch and immediately inspires Greta’s hatred of using the radio.
My first (and really only) faceclaim for Greta Morley was Zoe Saldana, but I waffled briefly for a couple of weeks, trying to cater to a few readers who told me they wanted to imagine themselves in the role. I planned to stick with that, and I tried, I promise I did. But every time Greta opened her mouth I heard Zoe, and by the time she went on her less than fleet-footed pursuit of Wilson with the longsuffering Andy by her side, she was locked in. Greta’s harboring some serious regret and raw emotional wounds from her not too distant past, and some time out in the American Midwest should be a much needed recovery sabbatical. Should be. But isn’t gonna.
Speaking of Andy...Andrew Hozier-Byrne was and is the only person I ever considered for the role of Andy Burns. Too tall, too clumsy, too cute, too sweet, just a whole bunch of too everything - he was perfect for the role and I may or may not have written it exclusively for him. Okay yeah, I wrote it exclusively for him. Andy’s the local cryptid, nobody really knows a lot about him. He may or may not be a drug dealer. He may or may not be officially employed by the police department. He may or may not be Irish or hypoglycemic or a blackout drunk or as goofy as he seems. Nobody really knows, and to be honest nobody really cares, because if you need it done Andy can do it...if he can remember you asked him to do it.
So Greta has arrived, for better or for worse. Cree immediately starts in with the sexist remarks and butchering her name, a favor she returns by embarking on what will become a neverending trail of obliterated mis-renderings of the town’s name. Creeley and Kevin kick off another of many running gags by arguing over whether or not anyone knew she was coming, and before things can get too stupid, Chief makes his first appearance.
And now things start to get interesting.
To be continued at chapter 4, Randy Andy and The Chief of Weemeetwa
@whatevervivie
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Dolorem et Consolationem Ch10
Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9
Words:
3825
Poorly done recon with Lea!
Tag this as AkRk and I eat your bones.
“Remember how to do recon, Roxas?” Lea’s hand rested on Roxas’s shoulder, leaning down slightly to be closer to the teen’s face.
“What kind of question is that?” Roxas rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even teach me how to, it was Even. I’m glad he’s way less creepy now, by the way. One time before you all went to Oblivion, he sat in the Grey Area and just kinda laughed at me? Like he wanted to eat me or something.”
“I mean, obviously something. He’s not that weird, c’mon. Give him a little credit.”
“When he was Vexen? I don’t want to. He said something about dissecting when talking about me? He was fucking weird.”
“Roxas, watch your language.”
“Really? Seriously?”
“Yeah, serious Lea. Now don’t fucking curse.”
Roxas looked up at Lea, expression giving away the fact that he was moments away from kicking the man’s ass for what he just said. “Why wasn’t Isa just glad to have you off his hands when you stopped hanging out with him? You’re the worst.”
Lea rolled his eyes and shrugged. “It’s because I’m delightful and hard to not love. Everyone knows that.”
“Alright, whatever you say. Isn’t talking a stupid thing to do during recon?”
“You went on recon missions with me, did that ever stop me? Besides, we’re checking out a bunch of nobodies without orders to do anything, this isn’t a real mission. Lesser nobodies don’t seem to mind us being around anyways.”
“They’re really not after hearts, are they?”
“Nah, if they were, they would’ve attacked a bunch of us members. That would’ve been real bad. They’re looking for their own if anything. Nobodies are all real self-serving, but they can be given objectives. If they think something’s gonna further their one life’s purpose, gaining a heart and returning to who they were, they’ll drop almost anything. A heart in someone else isn’t going to give the walking corpse who shouldn’t exist anything.”
“Sounds like you don’t actually know anything about them,” Roxas said as he walked down the neon-lit streets behind Lea.
“What d’you mean by that?” There was a moment where Lea’s face twisted into a grimace and he was glad he and Roxas weren’t standing next to each other.
“Sounds like projection, honestly. I might be younger than you, but if you want to talk about stuff, can you do it in a straightforward way?”
Lea continued to thank Roxas’s recon training for not having them in a position where his face could be seen. He sighed and collected himself before turning to face Roxas, rubbing behind his head with one hand and openly shrugging with his other.
“Listen, that’s how I understand it. I’m not projecting, not sure who you learned about that from-”
“Olette’s homework,” Roxas interrupted, seemingly unaware of Lea’s annoyance. If he was aware of Lea’s annoyance with him, he looked like he was refusing to let it bother him. The more Lea thought on it, the more likely the second option seemed. Roxas really did grow into someone completely different than Sora.
“Alright, well, don’t interrupt me, all questions can be answered later if they’re actually questions.” Lea’s mouth tightened into a flat line, trying his best to not sound as aggravated as he was. “Olette’s obviously not teaching you all her homework’s saying, but the dusks do want hearts, they just don’t attack everyone with hearts. They’re not mindless like heartless are. So I made some assumptions about them, sue me. Once we do attack them, they’re not gonna be too happy about that. You know as well as I do that lesser nobodies can suck when they swarm you.”
Roxas waited a moment, not wanting to interrupt again, watching Lea nod his head and gesture to go on. “I just wanted to say, maybe not as well as you do. Didn’t that kill you?”
“You don’t actually have to worry about interrupting me, just not as… in the middle of my sentence.” Lea sighed, relaxing almost as quickly as he’d tensed up in defense of himself. “Let’s not talk about death right now, we’re about to try to get a group together to go around killing things in hopes of their heartlesses meeting the business end of a keyblade too.”
“What happens if we injure the nobody too badly? And what is too badly since we have to kill them? Ienzo said Even took longer reforming for some reason?”
“Yeah, well, keyblade traumas seem to be relatively quick on the recompletion, fire’s a little bit of an issue. Unless you’re doing it to yourself and survive past it. I said no more death talk, Roxas.”
“Oh, did you… to Vexen?”
Lea sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. He guessed there was no way to control the conversation topic with Roxas as curious as he was. Today was gonna be a day full of deep breaths and uncomfortable questions. “Yeah. If you want me to be forward with you, I’ll tell you this one thing and you can decide if you still want me to talk to you about stuff, okay?”
“This is a weird way to do recon, but okay.”
“Listen, I did most of what I needed to know before you got here, you just said you wanted to hang out, okay? I already know what I’ve gotta do. besides, you’re the one asking all these questions.” Lea looked around at the surrounding area, making sure the nobodies who were around were still acting like he expected them to. Once he was sure they were safe, he dropped to the ground in a dramatic motion, pulling out his keyblade just to lay it on his lap and lean his elbows against it. “Alright, Roxas, sit down so I can tell you a bunch of shitty things I did to people who deserved something, but not what I gave them.”
Roxas was more hesitant to join Lea on the ground than he’d been with anything else. Hesitation wasn’t in Roxas’s nature. He got placed on the ground in need of some kind of start-up, but he hadn’t stopped since. Lea’s words and their current location combined in a way Roxas wasn’t sure if he particularly liked.
But he trusted Lea.
After he was seated, Roxas looked up at Lea, ready to listen and make the call on if he wanted to let Lea talk to him. Of course, no matter what Lea said, Roxas was determined to get comfortable enough with it fast so he could help his friend.
Lea was, however, not planning on actually giving Roxas a choice. It was a formality, he just wanted to see how being open would feel around the kids. There were a lot of them and they were all close. Roxas was the best one to test how much he could tell someone about half his age before he felt like he was creeping too far into an unhealthy place.
“So, you want to know what actually happened in Oblivion?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, you better like to listen to me talk, because I’m about to get into it.”
Roxas immediately regretted what he had just gotten himself into. Not that he minded listening to Lea talk, if he did, his whole time in the Organization would’ve been an unbearable hell instead of just hell, but… he didn’t like the implication that Lea would be talking more than he usually did.
There were a long few moments where Lea looked towards the castle and wondered if it would continue to look like it did, cast out of the passage of real time, or if it would crumble and fall apart as the people whose memories likely held it together stopped thinking about its halls. Lea lost himself in thought, unable to pull himself back to what he was planning on doing.
There was suddenly a hand over his that pulled him back into reality. “Hey, Lea, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to? We’re kinda sitting on the ground in a city of dusks?”
Lea looked up at Roxas and laughed, rubbing at the back of his head. The laugh felt at home in the city of the dead and lost, as did the two somebodies for just a moment. “Nah, Roxas, I’m fine. Just keep thinking things about being here. The world’s kinda falling apart in some places, did you notice?”
“Yeah, in some places.”
“The lesser nobodies and their shattered memories are holding this place together while we’re not thinking about it. I’m willing to bet on that one.” Lea gestured to one of the dusks meandering nearby as he spoke. Their home wouldn’t vanish completely until they were all defeated.
“You think a lot more about real questions than you act like you do. I thought you just kinda listened to Isa most of the time?”
“You saying you thought I was stupid? After all the stuff I taught you?” Lea’s laugh this time wasn’t nearly as hollow, but his eyes didn’t have the usual glint behind them.
“Ugh, no. Don’t twist my words around like that! I’m just saying… I thought you didn’t think as much as you’re thinking now?”
“That’s because thinking about things is never fun anymore. I’d rather just focus on the here and now. The here and now is the there and then right now, though. So. Here I am, stuck thinking about everything happening around me again.” Lea sighed and tapped his fingers against his keyblade’s fire. “So, you wanted to hear about Oblivion?”
“Yeah, but now that you’re back from zoning out, can we do this somewhere else? Maybe we can RTC and talk where there are some chairs?”
“C’mon, Roxas, I just got comfortable,” Lea said, sitting up straight and cracking his back. He realized when he did that that he didn’t really want to be sitting on the ground either, not in the middle of the World That Never Was. Slouching when he could see assassins and their bowed forms was… uncomfortable now that he was a person again. Though, hearing RTC coming out of Roxas’s mouth wasn’t all too comfortable either. “One last RTC to talk about that time I killed some coworkers. Cathartic or something.”
Roxas just looked at Lea for a moment before getting up. “Have you always been like this?”
“What? Hilarious and amazing? Yeah.”
Roxas seemed to decide that responding to Lea wasn’t the best choice as he began to walk forward without waiting for the older man to get up. Lea quickly scrambled to get up, long legs almost a hassle to deal with when hurrying. Keyblade vanishing as he let it slip from his grip, Lea held his breath as he watched it return to wherever keyblades stayed when they weren’t being held.
“Hey, Roxas, you ever get told where keyblades go?” Lea looked at his hand while they walked towards the castle, slowly closing his fingers into a fist.
“What? No? I never asked. It’s like all the other weapons you guys used to have, right?”
“I dunno, I guess I just think keyblades are probably a little more special than weapons used by the science cult we were all in.”
“Science cult?”
“I mean, I guess you could call it a lot of various kind of things, but science cult’s what I know about it. You not thinking of it like that’s kinda my fault, isn’t it?”
“I guess! I still don’t know what happened at Oblivion, you haven’t told me yet!”
“Oh, right, well. Isa gave me instructions that came straight from the boss man’s mouth.”
“Xemnas?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that still.”
“Lea, can you ever just summarize something?” Roxas rolled his eyes as they reached the divide that there was between the city and the castle. “Also, how are we getting over there?”
“No, I can’t, and I’d say next question, but you’re bombarding me.” Lea raised a hand to the side and summoned a dark portal. “Small trip, should be easy, even if our clothes weren’t specially made by the fairies.”
“I don’t think you should really be using those as much as you do, Lea, it’s not healthy to be using so much darkness.”
“Eh, it’s fine. It’s been ages and my heart’s still strong as ever.”
“Yeah, but, without a heart?”
“Well, yeah, but there was some time before we lost our hearts…” Lea trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t really given much thought to what happened in the short time between becoming apprentices and dying before. It took him a moment to collect himself again enough to realize he was still handing out answers to questions without much thought. “Hey, don’t try to get more information out of me than I wanna give. Just get in the portal so we can cross the death chasm that apparently exists now.”
“Okay, okay, wow. You’re the one who was answering stuff, it’s not my fault,” Roxas said as he entered the portal and rushed across the darkness to the exit.
The exit brought the two of them into the Grey Area and Lea immediately walked to the window, standing where Saïx always used to and staring out with the same intense longing he’d always seen on his friend’s face. Isa really had always been there, no matter how much they both changed over the years. It hurt Lea to think about it, so mocking was the only answer he could think of to make it hurt less. With no Kingdom Hearts in the sky, it was too close to the early days where everything was new and terror resounded in every echo of his empty chest despite not being able to truly feel it.
Roxas walked over and stood next to Lea. “You okay?”
Lea looked down and laughed. “Yeah, I’m just making fun of what Saïx was like.”
“Oh, can we still say Organization names?”
“Yeah, kinda? I’m talking about the disjointed person that Isa became. Axel sure was something else for a while. Looking back, I think I know exactly when I started to be myself again and it sure wasn’t the whole time. It’s part of what I’m about to talk to you about, so, lucky you.”
“Is it really lucky?”
“Nah, not really.” Lea immediately hopped over the back of a couch and slouched onto it after speaking. “I’ll start the story when you sit down?”
Roxas sat down and looked at Lea expectantly. No words were spoken as the teen waited for Lea to begin the explanation of what happened in Oblivion… until Roxas saw something out of the corner of his eyes. “Wait, sorry, there’s something over there. I’m gonna grab it then you can tell me the story.”
Lea watched Roxas dart over to the corner of the room and snag a piece of paper, folding it up carefully and putting it into a pocket carefully before casually walking back to sit down next to him. Tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, Lea looked at Roxas with as much expectancy as Roxas had just been looking at Lea.
“Oh, uh, it’s nothing? I’ve just been finding someone’s letters all over the place.”
“Alright, well, tell be about that?” Lea was all too happy to change the topic and Roxas could see that in the way he leaned forward and opened his previously closed off way of sitting. “You’ve got the floor if you need help figuring it out.”
“Nah, I think it’s really time for you to tell me what happened when you left. Why’d everyone go? And are you going to keep having me try to guess if you’re talking about Xemnas or Isa?”
“Alright, whatever you say.” Disappointment that Roxas didn’t take the chance to talk about anything else crossed over Lea’s face. “Well, alright… Oblivion. Everyone went for science reasons, research regarding replicas, I think you know that much, but it was also research regarding the castle itself. You’ve seen what it turned into, Xemnas probably wanted that. We weren’t told exactly what to look for, just that it was a chamber of waking or something.
“There were actually a few people assigned there who were organizing a coup, Marluxia and Larxene, so it was perfect timing to get rid of them for Xemnas… along with some people in the way of Isa’s rise to the top. It was probably too suspicious to get all the people that were in the way, so Isa sent Aeleus and Even and… Ienzo. Which would’ve been fine with me if I hadn’t already been assigned babysitting duty and if Naminé wasn’t… so hard to watch get hurt. And the replica…” Lea trailed off and rubbed at his face, sighing and sitting up so he could lean against his arms. “It’s probably my fault Xion wasn’t treated right, I never reported that replicas could develop personalities of their own.”
“You knew?”
“Yeah. Didn’t want to. I did something horrible with the Riku replica that was being used in the castle.”
“What?”
“I made him murder Zexion for me.”
Roxas and Lea sat in silence for a few very long seconds as they both took in what was said. Roxas, having had no idea what had happened in Oblivion, and Lea, having never said it aloud before.
Lea looked up at the ceiling and took in a deep breath before continuing, “I made the kid kill the only member of the Organization beyond Isa that I respected at all. Ienzo was a kid when everything happened and a pretty cool one at that. We weren’t friends or anything, but I like to think he didn’t mind me that much. It was easy to understand what I had to do, even if it was told to me in a way that allowed for plausible deniability from Isa if I was stopped, but I didn’t fully want to do it by the end of that trip to the castle. It really felt like a lot changed in me then. Felt like I must’ve been giving up.”
Lea paused to catch his own thoughts before they drifted even further away from the conversation than he could handle. “Stop me anytime you need.”
Roxas was sitting in a stunned silence, staring hard at Lea’s shoulder as the man spoke. It was the kind of thing Lea had initially wanted, but there was nothing fun about talking about things only to be shut down. It was good that Roxas wasn’t about to shut Lea down. “You can keep going, I’m okay.”
Being told to continue hadn’t been expected, but maybe it was good. “I don’t know if I was or not. Maybe I was giving up on Isa’s way. It was getting to be too painful and I didn’t realize it was real pain. I… don’t really want to keep going. I hate the part I’m about to tell you. I think about it constantly.” Lea clenched his hands into fists and breathed in slowly, holding hands to his chest as he curled in on himself. “Killing Vexen was… cathartic. Thinking back on how freeing it was is horrifying, especially because Sora was right there. I shouldn’t have let Sora be right there.”
“Lea?” Suddenly, Lea felt a smaller hand on his.
Looking up, Lea’s heart broke into a million pieces. Roxas was visibly worried, his eyebrows pulled together and his expression soft. He wasn’t used to being the adult in the situation. He reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the warm, wet tears fall against his fingertips. The crying adult who needed to pull himself together, that was what he was. “Sorry, Roxas. That’s basically it. Marluxia and Larxene were killed fighting Sora, Naminé escaped because I let her as far as I’m aware, Aeleus was killed fighting Riku. Sora’s memories were wiped, Naminé repaired them. Oh, right, Marluxia was having her insert herself into his memories instead of Kairi, that was a whole plot. Didn’t work, but it broke Sora a little bit.”
“Oh, is that all?” Roxas laughed as if nothing was wrong and sat back again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Talking stuff out sucks no matter how many times you do it.”
“How many times have you managed?”
“Once? Twice, maybe. Plus this.” He prided himself on a tone he felt seemed casual, even with the tears in his eyes.
“Thanks for telling me what happened.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Lea paused and stared at his lap. “I’m gonna tell you one more thing before I have to just ask you to not ask me questions for a while, okay?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I figured out why I can still use the dark corridors when nobody else can. Or will, I don’t know, maybe Isa can.”
Roxas just continued to stay quiet, face still soft with concern despite his entire body leaning forward slightly because he wanted to know.
“Ienzo couldn’t figure it out because I don’t know how much of the experiments Isa and I were in he remembers. We woke up in the coats, I don’t know how I managed to forget before.” Voice cracked as Lea cried, unable to hold himself together like he’d wanted. “We were apprentices, but if you weren’t family, it didn’t really matter. Sometimes experiments happened on even Xehanort from what I’d heard. We could do it then, we were pushed into darkness then, of course we continue to hold power over the corridors. It’s too bad nothing in them was ever helpful like anyone wanted, they really only worked to move us around.”
“... That sucks, Lea. Do you want to be alone? I can come back later?”
Lea wondered briefly if he was really making it feel obvious that he didn’t want to be having this breakdown around Roxas, but he couldn’t do anything but nod. Roxas immediately got up and stood awkwardly in front of the couch for a moment before wrapping his arms around Lea. It took the man a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when he did, he lifted his hand up and placed it on Roxas’s shoulder blade. “Thanks.”
Roxas backed up and nodded.
Lea didn’t watch him leave, he didn’t watch much of anything until he felt the couch move beneath him. Even then, he didn’t lift his head, he just watched as familiar fingers intertwined themselves with his.
“Roxas told me you went to the castle. Why are you here?”
Lea just shook his head, suddenly realizing he was sobbing as he did. He wondered how long that had been happening. Was he sobbing the entire time? He touched his cheek and it was warm and wet. Trying to take a breath hurt his chest.
Despite asking to be alone, he wanted nothing less and allowed himself to collapse on Isa. “I need help.”
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Oh good, you made it!
Did you guys know Ky was coming? They brought Anthony Doyle, The Stranded! And just on time! Grab a drink, find a spot, and make sure you finish everything on the checklist. The band is just getting started – you have 24 hours to send in your account! We’re so glad you’re here!
I. OUT OF THE STUDIO
NAME/ALIAS: Ky
AGE: 28
PRONOUNS: they
II. ON STAGE
DESIRED SKELETON: The Stranded
NAME: Anthony Doyle (Antonino Azzara)
FACE CLAIM: Luke Pasqualino
AGE: 27
OCCUPATION: Bassist with Violent Vale
III. INTERVIEW
Answer the following questions in your character’s voice:
If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would it be?
“What, if I didn’t have the band to look after?” That made him pause, it did. Shit. What would he do? Go back and help mum and dad with the shop? Even they didn’t want that. If they were being honest about it. “Fucked if I know,” Anthony flapped a hand, cigarette smoke curling after. He’d get on with it. Somehow. “Maybe a zoo?” He threw that out there, for the hell of it. “That’s what I went on about, when I was a kid. Working at the petting zoo, with the cockatoos and goats.” Not very rock and roll. But, then again - he’d got plenty of practice with wild animals, hadn’t he?
If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?
“New York was mint. Wouldn’t mind another stop off around there, sometime.” So long as he didn’t have to be running about keeping those muppets out of trouble. Those beloved muppets of his. Anthony took a thoughtful drag, considering his options. World was his oyster, innit? “Other than that, oh…those Galapagos Islands might do. See the big, fuck off tortoises. Darwin’s finches. And your cousins, mate,” he smirked at the iguana lazing down the chesterfield from him, dozy in the California heat. “Seems a relaxing sort of place.”
What is one thing that makes you different than anyone else?
“Out of this lot? I can cook. Properly, mind, like, real food. Vitamins, minerals. And I can press clothes. Do up a tie. Fix a button, change a tire…” he counted off on his fingers, knowing he’d run out. Violent Vale had a lot going for it, but. When it came to just being able to get shit done, the little things that kept life rolling along in some semblance of order, Anthony was the one who had to step up, often as not. “Tell time.” He rapped his watch, snuffing his cigarette. Not the first interview where he’d been the only bastard of the bunch to show up when the calendar said so. Wouldn’t be the last. “Don’t you worry, they’ll be along.” He wouldn’t promise shortly. Knew better.
IV. BACKSTAGE
Anthony - as his teachers at school quickly got to calling him, because Antonino was just too much of a mouthful, apparently - didn’t remember Italy, but his neighbors around Bristol never let him, or his hard-working parents, forget it. The Azzaras had left their mother country, and generations of family history, behind when Anthony was just shy of his second birthday; the future had looked too grim, in wartorn, bombed out Naples. Better to try their chances elsewhere. They got as far as England, and set about becoming as Bristolian as they could. Which, according to the locals, was never really enough. Still, they got on with it - it being a little chippy down in Temple Meads. Nothing special, but cod and potatoes paid the bills. Mostly. When the shop didn’t cover rent and such, or needed new windows and paint after the odd smash-up, Ant found ways to make ends meet. His mum and dad might frown on it, and fret, but he’d learned plenty of tricks from hanging about on the fringes. Met all sorts of interesting people, there. Fences, for one. With his clever fingers and fast feet, Anthony could make himself some good money when he needed it, pawning things he snuck off drunk tourists.
But only when he needed it. When his family needed it, more rightly. Picking pockets and sneaking unattended handbags wasn’t fun. It was risky, and he knew that. Anthony played smart, and took honest work over a quick buck, when he could find it. Was a band, a rock band, honest work? He wasn’t too sure about that, but Violent Vale wasn’t just a rock band. They were family too, childhood friends. The type who’d start your fights for you. Loyal to a fault, because they’d earned it, Anthony let himself get drawn into the dream and put those troublesome hands to better use on the bass.
They weren’t bad, neither. Not bad at all. A few gigs around town became more, became daytripping to Bath, became playing at this little festival over in Glastonbury, became a weekend over in London. Became fame. Soon, he didn’t have time to bus tables for his parents - and he didn’t even need to feel guilty about it, because the money was good. Stupid good. It only got better as Violent Vale got big, and bigger. They were riding a trend, all the way to the top. All the way to America. Mad, wasn’t it? New York City was a good time, a breath of fresh air. Well, fresh-ish. Unfortunately, it was too good of a time for some members of the band. As in England, Ant found himself acting the collie dog, shepherding his little lunatic gang around the city, trying to keep them in line and on schedule. It was a hell of a job. And, frankly, he needed to cut loose himself now and then. Now and then became too often, quickly. Predictable, wasn’t it? Those ties that bound were tight, after all. Anthony found himself dragged off course more than he should’ve been, through the clubs and rooftops and streets of the Big Apple. The bills piled up. The tabloids loved it. Their managers didn’t. Soon, it was decided - forcefully - that they’d be packing up, shipping out west. To California. Beaches, bikinis, big record labels. Sounded wicked.
So long as they got their shit in line. Ant pulled the band together for their own meeting, after management left to arrange the details. Los Angeles had to be different. More music, less party. Please? He was, well. Worried about them. The Vale were more than a headline, more than letters in lights. They were his mates, the best he had. He wasn’t trying to be a killjoy, here. Just wanted to see them survive stardom. They seemed to be listening, but… he knows them, these people of his. Not at all mollified, he threw back his gin and tonic, reclined that big American airline seat, and hoped for the best. He’s not out to change his friends, to be clear. He just… wishes they weren’t such a bloody mess. Until that day comes, though, Ant’ll be there to scrape the Vale off the floor and into the studio, anytime, everytime.
V. ENCORE
Let’s try some HEADCANONS.
He’s not a Tony. Don’t call him Tony. At least one of his bandmates - if not the whole mangy crew - has known Anthony long enough to remember when he was a weedy little late-bloomer, last boy at school to shoot up and fill out; those days left him with the unenviable nickname of Ant. It’s stuck, but whether he finds it aggravating or endearing really depends on the moment. Don’t try it if you’re not a proper, close friend. You’ve got to earn the right, yeah?
While he couldn’t say much for the Bristol school system, Ant’s an avid self-educator. He’s particularly keen on environmental subjects and history, and his letterbox is often packed with magazines like National Geographic, Time, and The Ecologist.
Anthony’s loving the California sunshine, honestly. He’s often found on the beaches, taking a morning swim - in water that’s not too bloody cold for that, what a wonder - or an evening run.
Given his love of animals, it comes as no surprise to most that Anthony’s very vegetarian. Unless he’s at home, with mum and dad. Then he eats what he’s given, and likes it. Obviously.
Anthony can speak Italian, but not much. His parents discouraged their first language at home; faced with the prejudices of working class Bristol, the Azzaras tried very, very hard to fit the mould of respectable, urban, English family. Mum and dad were understanding when he first took up a blandly British stage name - it could only help his chances. It was sensible, but… difficult, in a way Anthony can’t quite articulate. He doesn’t have a mother country to miss, not the way his parents do. All the same, his name, his skin, his face, have been held against him for as long as he can remember. He’s sensitive to the tensions of race and culture, and even if America’s problems with all that haven’t smashed any of his windows in, Ant can see them pretty plainly.
His first fresh-to-fame personal indulgence was buying up an iguana that caught his eye in a shop window, back in London. They weren’t taking proper care of it, right - all cramped up, with sad, fake vines, wilted lettuce. Couldn’t have that. Said iguana, now known as Dennis, as in, the Menace, now travels alongside the band - frequently creating a bit of a stir in transit. Nobody’s too fond of the idea of transporting live reptiles, as it turns out. Anthony’s turned his apartment in Los Angeles into a free-range reptile habitat for Dennis’s sake, complete with some lovely lush plants he takes diligent care of.
Anthony tries - and largely succeeds - at being the reasonable, sensible, presentable face of the Vale. But if you hit the right buttons, he’ll show you just what sort of British culture he picked up along the Bristol docks. Ant breaks up more fights than he starts, and when he does, he tends to break some faces along the way. Got a mean headbutt, in true hooligan style.
And of course, a PLAYLIST! Here’s some period-rightish tunes that brought Ant to life for me. There’s some appropriately hot-blooded fling type tracks, a lot of British rock of all stripes, some rebel yelling, and bangers to blow the roof off, in truly Violent Vale style.
Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin
Baba O’Riley - The Who
Teenage Kicks - The Undertones
Jimmy Jazz - The Clash
Friends of Mine - Buzzcocks
Good Times Roll - The Cars
Hush - Deep Purple
Burning Down the House - Talking Heads
Demolition - The Kinks
Don’t Bring Me Down - Electric Light Orchestra
No More Heroes - The Stranglers
The Night Comes Down - Queen
God Save the Queen - Sex Pistols
Good Times Bad Times - Led Zeppelin
Don’t Mess Me Round - Buzzcocks
Under Pressure - Queen & David Bowie
I Know a Girl - The Undertones
Just What I Needed - The Cars
Money - Pink Floyd
Rebel Rebel - David Bowie
My Generation - The Who
Lola - The Kinks
I Told You So - The Undertones
Diamond Dogs - David Bowie
Wasted Life - Stiff Little Fingers
Real Cool Time - The Stooges
You’re All I’ve Got Tonight - The Cars
Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) - Buzzcocks
Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash
All Day and All of the Night - The Kinks
Keep Yourself Alive - Queen
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I really hate to do this but I can't recommend Sekiro.
As someone who's a long time DS fan I was looking forward to Sekiro, I wasn't dying to get my hands on it but as a fan of fromsofts previous games I wanted to try it. And I hated it.
Firstly I have to talk about the combat. Instead of the dark souls dodge or block when an enemy attacks you have to rapidly switch between deflect, jump or step. Which you have to decide what is the right move to do at a moments notice. Which is more aggravating then fun. And before anyone says it I know you're suppose to deflect more and step isn't really a dodge. But deflect is so boring and really just turns into spam the deflect button and hope it's in the right rhythm; especially in late game where the enemies attack so fast that you might as well dodge anyway which makes it annoying that they drastically reduced the I-frames for dodges or steps now.
Secondly the whole dragon rot mechanic. It's pretty worthless. You pick up the items to heal it frequently enough and can buy it from shops. So at best is a pointless announce and at worse highly restrictive in late game. The only benefit I really know from it is that you have a higher chance of unforeseen aid which never once helped because it would always come up at the fifth or sixth attempt on a boss where I really don't care if I do lose my stuff or not.
Thirdly is that progression is pretty bad. I hate to sound like one of those people that complained about the lack of RPG elements in Bioshock but without the RPG elements here you're basically at the mercy of the game to how you can progress. Not feeling strong enough to take on this boss? Can't grind to get better health or stamina or do more damage. Nope instead it's linked to finding prayer beads or memories after beating a boss. So having trouble with a boss? Eat shit and get gud.
Fourthly and this is where we get to the biggest problem in the game. The story. Now at time of writing this I'm on the final boss and I have to say the plot is up it's own ass if it thinks I care about anyone. Yeah weird to say about a from soft game but I really couldn't give two shits about anyone and part of that is the strait forward approach to the story telling. Dark Souls famously didn't directly tell you the story but rather did it through enemy placement, level design and item text. Here you're more directly being told a story through cut-scenes and long winded dialog segments and by about halfway through I realized I had no idea what was going on or why it even mattered. For instance *Spoilers* your adoptive father Owl show's up half way through the game after pretending to be dead for 3 years and tells you to forsake your master and join him. I don't know if they intended this to be a big moment, I'm sure they did because of how the following cut-scene went, but I had no idea why he even played dead let alone why I should care he's back now. I have no connection or loyalty to him why should I give a fuck what he wants? Which leads into...
Fifthly. Sekiro the character sucks. He has no personality, not agency and no real narrative weight behind him. Being the first none custom character in a from soft game ever I believe I expected them to have a good reason for giving us this character... If there was ever a good reason it's lost behind my snores every time he opens his mouth. He's so devoid of personality and every conversation he has is "What's you'r name?" "I cannot say." "Oh. You're a Shinobi. Got it." To the point I thought it was a set up for a joke farther down the line. But nope. He literally is just that boring. I can't help but feel maybe if I had made my own character I could have at least dreamed up some fascinating reason why they're loyal to whomever they chose but since he's his own character I can't get that invested in him.
What little I can recommend in Sekiro is the combat if you're really into hearing metal smack against metal for 90% of the time. But as someone who likes dodging and fast movement in the combat, like a dance as one trys to bait the other into the right step to take advantage of it, I hated it from start to finish. The few times I got enjoyment were when I was using step to get just out of the way of an attack. But since the game actively trys to punish you for using step that fun was very fleeting.
I’m not sure I’ll get it as I put 25 hours into the game but I requested a refund on steam. I hated my experience with it so much.
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Another Perfect Catastrophe -4
AUTHOR: Mikimoo
PAIRING: JayDick
RATING: Mature
WARNINGS: Non Consensual drug use, Non Consensual touching, Non Consensual kissing, humour, slight mayhem
SUMMARY: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.
Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!
Notes: An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)
Chapters: 1, 2, 3
“Oh, it’s very rustic!” Dick said, as the limo drew up the grand sweeping driveway.
The place was a damn castle, with an actual turret. Jason tried not to be impressed. “When was it built?” he asked Celia, opening the car door for her. He was curious to know if she had bothered even doing any research about the place.
“Mid Seventeen Hundreds,” she said primly, as she disembarked. Her designer heels crunched menacingly as she stalked towards the house. It seemed Richie Grayson had been getting on her nerves during the long, sober drive from London. At least Dick seemed to be in better spirits, getting under the skin of this little gang of thieves seemed to have improved his mood immensely, and he was practically swaggering towards the house.
“That's kind of old isn't it?” Dick said, in his most obnoxious, dumb-ass tone. “I would have thought your dad would have bought something a little newer, more spunky? Bruce got me an island for my eightieth. A private getaway, you know? But it was kind of shit, so I sold it for a penthouse in New York and a jet.”
Celia forced her mouth into something that resembled a smile, but she still looked like she was thinking about gutting him and possibly setting fire to his innards.
Sofia came to the rescue and draped herself over Dick's arm while she smoldered up at him. “Tell me more about your travels.”
Dick launched into a hugely embellished story about how he had once met the Queen. Jason noticed he left out the fact that he had been ten and had spilled juice down his shirt. Bruce seemed to remember that incident fondly, although at the time they had spoken about it, Jason had felt he had been really glad it had been Dick who had been on that trip with him. He remembered how that had stung, even though he didn’t want to go see some stuck-up old lady in her big stupid palace. He had spent so much time consumed with jealousy and fear of not being good enough, just remembering it made Jason’s chest ache with its echoes.
As they entered the foyer, a tall man came to greet them. “Celia, you brought guests,” he said, smiling insincerely. His eyes lingered on Jason with cool assessment.
“Henry! I didn't realise you would be here!” Celia said, unconvincingly. “This is my brother Henry. Are you here with friends too?”
“Yes, just four of us, but we'll stay out of your way. I'm sure you kids want to have fun.”
He didn't look like her brother, he looked like a bouncer or hired muscle, a mercenary maybe. He moved like a fighter, confident, and like he was used to packing a gun. Unusual for a Brit who wasn't attached to armed police or the military.
Things were taking shape now. They had armed back up and an isolated environment to work with so it probably wouldn’t be long until things kicked off. Hopefully he and Dick would be ready for them.
Jason was given his own room, but he chose to join Dick in his while he 'rested' after the trip. They chatted about the estate, their plans and casually flirted, while carrying on a second conversation via text. Until they could check for hidden cameras and bugs there was no point in taking chances.
So, research house then snooping? Dick wrote, while glibly commenting on the twee furnishings in the room.
find me blueprints while i check for bugs
Jason scanned the room using the Wayne Tech installed in his phone. He detected what appeared to be a crude camera in the light fixture and a recording device under the bedside cabinet. He texted as much to Dick. It was going to be difficult to cover the camera subtly – Jason had a brief vision of tearing Dick's shirt off and flinging it over the light shade, but it was unlikely to actually work in any convincing manner. They were going to have to work fast or things might get awkward, if not downright fucked up.
“If you're going to nap, then I'll take a look round the grounds if you don't mind?” Jason said out loud.
“Cool, wear your jacket, it’s pretty chilly out. I thought we could go to the beach, but it's freezing!” Dick pouted.
“It's England in May, Richie, not exactly the Bahamas.” Jason didn't bother to hide his peeved tone, he didn't need Dick reminding him how to do his damn job, of course he would wear his own, armoured jacket, that was the whole point of bringing it. Although they worked well together, Dick did have a tenancy to drive Jason insane, especially when it came to his duel inclinations towards being both bossy, overbearing and a mother hen.
Still, he felt good putting on his real gear, the weight of it was comforting. His pockets were filled with electrical goodies for planting his own bugs and he felt his mood lift slightly. He was looking forward to getting this wrapped up and hopefully cracking a few heads in the process.
He headed out into the gardens first, checking carefully for surveillance. They hadn't set much up - very sloppy and overconfident. If 'Henry' was a merc, he was a piss poor example of one.
He did a circuit of the house, first he went through what would in summer no doubt be an impressive rose garden, then across a perfect lawn of fresh green grass that smelt like heaven after a week of bar rooms and sweaty drunks. From the edge of the lawn he could see what looked to be a freaking hedge maze, and beyond that, cliffs and the sea.
Finally he made his way back towards the small back courtyard and headed back inside via the terrace. He had yet to see anyone, either the brats or the hired muscle, so he cautiously but casually investigated the lower floors. He planted a few bugs, and mentally marked the location of any he had located during his search. The two rooms he most needed to enter were the master bedroom and the lower office, where he suspected the gang was hanging out and plotting. But there would be time for that later.
He headed back out to the gardens with his cigarettes, making it obvious he was going for a smoke, although the artifice was kind of pointless, nobody seemed to give a shit what he was doing. He easily avoided the crappy surveillance outside and headed towards where the blueprints told him the office was. He wouldn't have a chance to get inside for a while, but he could still gather some intel. He positioned himself by the window and switched on his ear bud, then used a small but powerful microphone to pick up the conversation inside.
“Why the fuck is the bodyguard here?” That sounded like 'Henry'.
“Because Richie Rich is fucking him and can't stand to be separated for a single day.” Celia's voice snapped.
“You know we will have to kill him, it's going to get fucking messy.”
They had no idea how messy. Jason idly wished he could just whack the lot of them, no further investigation, no proof to stand up in court, no more dealing with all of these fuckheads. But the tenuous relationship that had formed between himself and Bruce, and even with Dick, was not something he actually wanted to sacrifice, or at least not for these bunch of morons
“It could work in our favour,” Celia said, jarring Jason from his murderous daydreams.
“I don't see how, and we've never killed a mark before, let alone two.” That was Jack.
“We will do what we have to,” Celia said. “The thing is, Bruce Wayne might be a drunken perv most of the time, but when it comes to business he's very shrewd. He has declared no ransom should be paid in the event of his own kidnap. The few times he has paid a ransom for someone else, he's got his money back after the fact through hiring people to hunt the perps down.”
Maybe she was the brains behind the operation after all. Actually doing research. One point to House Denbury.
“So, what are you saying is ransom is out, so we kill them? Do you think that will make Wayne less likely to come after us?” Jack said, he sounded aggravated, killing was apparently a step too far for him. Or maybe it was the thought of the help that Bruce allegedly 'hired.'
“Not necessarily, it's the loss of face he hates rather than the money, he and Grayson aren't exclusive. He's probably too old for Wayne's tastes anyway, he just keeps him in fast cars and booze in order to keep him quiet. If we clean out his accounts it will still be a huge score, and we’ll probably be doing Wayne a favour if we kill him.”
No points to Denbury for that one. But it probably made scene to her icy-cold, sociopathic little brain.
“But Ed wants him first, doesn't he? He said we should wait until he gets here before drugging them, so he can do his thing,” Jack said.
“Fucking pervert,” Henry muttered, sourly. “He's a sick freak.”
“Be that as it may, he can have his fun after we get Grayson’s account details. Then we make it look like a murder-suicide. They have a horrible breakup - the bodyguard gets fed up with Richie’s philandering ways, kills his erstwhile lover and then himself.”
“It’s hardly Romeo and Juliet,” Jack said petulantly.
“It hardly needs to be. Wayne may look into it, but he won’t come after us the same way as he would with blackmail. I stake my life on it.”
“You’re sure he and Grayson aren’t a thing any more? He will be pissed if we kill his boyfriend.”
“He has at least two younger boys already in his house. I looked into it carefully. Grayson is nothing but an expensive liability. This is perfect.”
Jason wondered just how many people actually believed the slander that just skirted the edge of a lawsuit in some of the shadier gossip mags. It was strangely upsetting.
“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Sofia’s lightly accented voice said. “The police will look into it, and they will discover the missing money. It will be obvious it was more than just a lovers tiff.”
“So we invent a third party. Lay a trail and let them follow that. Then we can head to the continent to lay low and consider our next target.”
“It’s agreed then. Tonight or tomorrow,” Henry said.
“Tomorrow gives us time to prepare. But we should speak to Ed tonight, I’m not sure when he’s due to arrive.”
“He’s the one who’s going to fuck this operation up, you know that right?” Henry said, “His sick games have no place in this.”
“He gets us access, so we need him.”
“If you say so,” Henry said, even more sour than before.
The television was on loudly, but Dick was somehow actually napping when Jason returned to the room. He woke up when Jason tossed his jacket onto the chair, toed off his boots and slid into the bed with him. He pulled Dick close and buried his nose in his thick hair, which smelt like the expensive sandalwood shampoo from the hotel. The position of Jason’s face conveniently hid the movement of his lips, and put his mouth close to Dick’s ear so he could whisper low enough the sound of the TV would cover his words even if the microphone was a powerful one, which he doubted, but it never hurt to be careful.
“They’re planning to kill us rather than blackmail Bruce,” he whispered, and felt Dick shiver slightly in response to the hot breath on his skin.
“Mmm, nice,” Dick purred pushing back against Jason and making him inhale sharply.
“Garner’s in on it, he’s the sexual sadist, although the others go along with it. They’re going to kick things off quick, tonight or tomorrow – when he gets here.”
Dick turned in his arms and kissed his way up Jason's neck, open mouthed and sloppy. Jason had to take a moment to remind his body he was working and not playing. When he reached Jason's ear, Dick whispered, “We need info from their laptop, for proof. When we have that, we can call the cops and be done with it.”
Jason returned the favour, nuzzling against him in a way he had never imagined himself doing – even in his guilty fantasies it was all rough fucking and lacking affection. This was horribly nice and Jason once again forced his wandering mind, and body, back to work. “It’s risky, splitting up – you’ll have to distract them while I get the info,” he said.
“So be quick, I can’t refuse food or drink without appearing suspicious, and if they decide to dose me I'll be useless – you’ll have to look after me.”
To Jason’s slightly addled mind that sounded rather suggestive, at least when Dick was all but sucking on his earlobe. “I will,” he replied, in a slightly breathy voice.
He could feel Dick grin against his skin, the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. In retaliation Jason dragged his teeth across Dick’s throat, pausing to bite gently at his Adam’s apple before kissing up to his other ear. “I will,” he said again, firmly. Then he was suddenly flat on his back and Dick was straddling his waist, looking rumpled and beautiful.
“Lets save it for later,” Dick said, his voice husky. He gave a sinful roll of his hips, that despite appearances, didn’t actually make contact with Jason's crotch.
Jason sucked in a breath, and smiled cockily up at him. He had to get his own mind focused on the job. Despite his teasing, Dick was all business and was doing his best to respect Jason's perceived boundaries, avoiding actual sexual contact while maintaining the illusion of it. They probably should have spoken about it previously, on the off chance there were cameras – how far would they go? There were ways around it of course, without having to have fake sex, or have actual sex, and Jason had to firmly pull his mind out the gutter again. If they didn’t get what they needed tonight and had to continue this charade, then Dick getting wasted and passing out would be the logical way to deal with it. Yup. That was going to be the plan. Assuming the brats weren't actually expecting an orgy.
Dick smiled down at him, expression sharp and almost challenging, then to Jason’s relief he swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching with his arms up and his lean back twisting to the side with a sinuous motion.
“So, Jase, you want to come to dinner?”
“Do I have to?” Jason asked petulantly. “You know I hate having to sit and watch these things, I fucking hate rich people.”
Dick laughed, there was an edge of mockery to it. “You like me well enough.”
“I like fucking you, Richie.”
Dick laughed again and strode over, all confidence and predatory grace, then he grabbed Jason's jaw and kissed him hard on the lips. It was possessive, more like a dog marking its territory than anything romantic. Jason's pants felt suddenly very tight.
“You’ll join us after though, won’t you? They’re all hot, right? I’m sure the evening will bring some perks,” Dick said.
“They are an attractive bunch, even that brother of hers.”
Dick leaned down over him again, eyes bright and intense. “You can play with the girls, but out of the guys, you only fuck me, no one else. Understand?”
“Yeah,” Jason somehow managed to say without embarrassing himself. It wasn’t clear to him if Dick knew the effect he was having with this sudden random improv. Jason was a bit surprised himself.
After Dick went to dinner, Jason did another circuit of the grounds and house, this time tagging heat signatures. The office was clear, so he figured it was a good opportunity to get in and get into their computer system.
Their security was sloppy for someone of his calibre, and easily disabled. Once into the room he had a very quick look through the draws and loose papers, but there was nothing of any real value, so he turned his attention to the laptop. He hooked up his tablet and got to work cracking the security – it was surprisingly hard, considering how poor the rest of it was, someone was clearly very good with this side of things. He was better, of course, but he was rather tight on time.
His phone buzzed with Dick checking in.
all good. Weird vibe. Heard car in drive they said it was staff, check out?
Jason was starting to get that tingle of intuition that suggested this might all go to shit at any moment. After a brief internal debate he pinged Tim.
“Jason?” Tim’s voice was groggy like he had just woken up.
“Sleeping the day away? Tut tut, what would Daddy say.”
“I work nights, Jason. Double time at the moment due to everyone having broken limbs. What do you want?”
“You got a program that can get us into this system quick? I can do it, but time is of the essence as I suspect Dick might need back up soon.”
“Email me what you have and I'll see what I can do.”
Jason did so, and then went back to poking around the room while Tim muttered about codes and hacks in his ear. He found an interesting array of weaponry poorly concealed under the bed. Two pistols with silencers, a selection of vials with a clear liquid inside, a hypodermic needle that looked more like an instrument of torture than a medical device, and what looked like a dart gun – the kind vets used to anaesthetise wily zoo animals. He pondered for a moment, weighing up the likelihood that things would kick off today, and then emptied both guns and pocketed the bullets, then disabled the rest. He took a sample of the drugs too, for future analysis.
“Any joy?” he asked Tim.
“I know this work, it would have been harder than you might expect to gain access. It’s written by a hacker known as BellaCiao2000. That’s the name of an Italian partisan song.”
“Yes I know what it is, you little nerd. And I think I can hazard a guess which of our little gang of thieves is our techie.”
“Send me their info, I’d love to tangle with them again.” he sounded wide awake and interested now. Dork.
“In more ways than one, she’s smoking hot, if you like that sort of thing. She’s known only as Sofia among this bunch, I don’t have any idea who she is really. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.” He sent the info across, just as Tim cracked the code and the laptop opened up to reveal its secrets. It wasn’t particularly interesting stuff, but there should be enough to be incriminating. Tim stayed on the line, while Jason worked, delving into Sofia’s background.
Jason's phone bleeped again:
Think drufs duckingmice tho
That did not sound good: Either Dick was sitting on his phone, he was having trouble typing or he was off his face. Possibly all three.
“Tim, looks like that back up might be needed now. I gotta go. Can you deal with this crap for me and get anything interesting to the British police, and Interpol maybe. These chumps are global.”
“Yeah, I can monitor things from this end too. Go rescue your damsel in distress.”
“I’m telling him you said that.” Jason rang off and packed up his gear as quick as possible. He didn’t bother covering his tracks too well, he trusted Tim to have ferreted out what they needed and having this wrapped up before it became an issue. He checked his watch. Two hours since he had separated from Dick. One hour since his coherent check in, fifteen minutes since the nonsense one, which Jason had loosely translated to mean: 'I think I’m on drugs, it’s fucking nice though.'
It was too long, fifteen minutes in an altered state with a bunch of potential sexual predators and indifferent sociopaths was an alarming length of time. Especially if that car Dick had mentioned earlier had been Garner.
#jaydick#jason todd#dick grayson#nightwing#red hood#mik trys to write stuff#My writing#My fic#catastrophe
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Saviour AU - Part 9
He wasn’t rich like the others, he didn’t really fit, but he was part of the group, the rich boys that had investments in one of the biggest companies in the country, they were powerful and handsome and they could get anything the wanted, money had corrupted their every day actions, money that Byun Baekhyun didn’t have, to what extent was he like them?
You were lucky enough to be delivering the coffee every morning, you just wanted to see him, and to see him meant seeing the others too…
You had faith that he was different… just don’t trust him too much he might surprise you, and not in a good way.
Business AU/Angst/Smut in future parts.
Baekhyun x Reader ft. Chanyeol, Chen, Kai & Lay (Mentions of EXO OT12)
Warning: some smut references, not much, not yet ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° soon my lovelies… soon (ᵔ.ᵔ)
Masterlist
Saviour Masterpost
< Part 8 - Part 10 >
Summary: Baekhyun gave in ^_~
Your legs weren’t holding you, you leaned on the car next to you watching Baekhyun murmur what looked like nasty words walking away. He gave you one last disgusted look before getting into his car sprinting as he drove recklessly, the engine sound loud resonating in your ribcage.
Your knees felt wobbly walking towards your apartment, all while thinking that this was yet the worst feeling you’ve ever felt since you were born. Indeed, the man you loved slipping away from your hands in the most heartbreaking way. You could live with the thought that he would never be with you because of Chanyeol. Or because he simply didn’t like you, but him thinking horrible things about you, him telling you what he just told you was too much to handle, you weren’t strong enough to live with this though. You knew yourself. You would never be able to overcome this…
And he was right, you needed to disappear… forever.
Kai called you that night several times, you didn’t answer, but when Chen called you knew you had to, you promised him that, and you weren’t the type to break your promises.
Things weren’t going too well for him, when he went back to the company that day Suho had already began procedures to basically quick him out. You grew very interested to the story, you didn’t really understand how he was opening to you this fast, but also the lawyer in you wanted to hear more.
It was your time to shine, you could help Kim Jongdae and get revenge at the same time from this nasty situation.
“Tell me more Baekhyun-ah” said Chanyeol already tipsy lifting the bottle of whatever he was drinking way too early in the morning rocking on his chair behind his desk.
“Chanyeol-ah, come on, enough already, I just told you so you can move on. She doesn’t have to share you feelings, you cannot force her” said Baekhyun coming closer trying to get the bottle out of Chanyeol’s hand.
“Leave me alone! Don’t fucking touch the bottle, WHAT ELSE HAPPENED? TELL ME!”
Now Chanyeol stood up clearly affected by the alcohol, not being able to stand still.
“Chanyeol-ah, nothing else happened, enough please, please bro, she is not worth it”
“He must of fucked her well, he had a point that fucker, he said it at the beginning of the bet ‘she will be in my bed’ Chen can predict these things. Especially when they are whores”
“Chanyeol she is not- why do you care? Enough already!” cried Baekhyun desperately to make Chanyeol forget about you.
“What is all this? Chanyeol go home right now! What if an employee sees you in this condition, take him home Baekhyun” said Suho entering Chanyeol’s office very unhappy at the view.
“I am waiting for Chen and his new conquer, the woman I liked. I was ready to start something real with her hyung, you know? She was here in my heart” now Chanyeol switched from angry to melancholic, speaking as he harshly punched his own chest. It was tearing Baekhyun’s heart, he regretted telling him about what he saw the day before.
“Whoah, whoah, I am missing all the fun in China” added Lay closing the door behind him.
“All this scene is for the girl Xiumin hyung brought, the coffee girl Yixing! Can you believe it?”
“Suho-yah! Don’t address her like that” Lay replied annoyed.
“Whatever! All I know is that she is causing quite a commotion, I don’t like her” added Suho.
“Yeah you are just used to sluts, cannot cope when you meet a decent one, that must be it” Lay’s speech firm.
“Decent!?” asked Chanyeol laughing out loud hysterically.
*Door knock*
“Good morning gentlemen, your secretary told me you were here Kim Junmyeon-ssi, do you have a moment for me?”
“What the fuck Chen? Why are you talking to me in that formal tone?”
“I have my lawyer also to be preset” added Chen letting you in.
“What? Lawyer?”
“___!?” asked Lay stunned “holy shit! You are a lawyer? Good on you girl! I’m so happy for you. Well done Chen, I support you, and whatever Suho here said or did I’m against it” Lay patted on Chen’s back enthusiastically.
Baekhyun looked at you head to toe while he held on Chanyeol that kept moving side to side. He was perplexed, was this a joke? Were you this cunning? He hated himself that at some point he did believe you.
“So how did he hire you? Before of after sleeping with you?” asked Chanyeol trying to get closer, Baekhyun not letting him.
“CHANYEOL!” exclaimed Lay.
You shot Baekhyun a disgusted face before taking the seat next to Chen. Suho called Xiumin to attend the improvised meeting that looked more like a mental hospital.
Xiumin opened the door panting heavily, clearly not believing what Suho had told him in the phone “___! Where were you?”
“Here Kim Minseok-ssi, my resignation letter”
“What? No you can’t, you signed a contract, if you breach the terms and conditions you will have to face a penalty clause” said Xiumin trying to sound confident.
“Yes hyung, I will avail her, I will pay the amount stated in the contract, that is in return of her services”
“And sex! All the great sex she can give you, I guess it must be good, right Chen? How is it? Does she like it rough? Did you spank that pretty ass of hers?” Chanyeol sounding more and more drunk.
“If you don’t shut that mouth Chanyeol, I will have no other choice but to punch your ugly face” threatened Lay pointing his forefinger at his face.
Suho got up and whispered something to Xiumin going outside. The panic clear in his face “we will be back in just a second”
You closed your eyes trying to calm down, you couldn’t not look at Baekhyun and shake your head in disbelief, he really had no feelings towards you, not even pity, the view wasn’t amusing as he still kept caring about his asshole friend.
Chen went to the water dispenser to get a cup of water, while Lay went to talk to Baekhyun away from Chanyeol, and that was Chanyeol’s chance his drunken thinking made him believe.
“Bitch, you are going to get it from me too. You won’t win”
Chanyeol grabbed your wrists pulling you towards him trying to kiss you, he pushed you to the couch, making you fall backwards, in an instant he was on top of you.
“CHANYEOL! WHAT THE FUCK? MOVE AWAY FROM HER!” screamed Lay pulling at Chanyeol’s shoulders.
Chen and Baekhyun joined in trying to get him away from you, you tried to scream but he had gaged your mouth with his hand while you punched his chest. The man was very big and strong, you looked from Chanyeol to Beakhyun who held a worried look, more than anger.
“Move fucker! Leave her alone!” said Chen.
Baekhyun pulled both Chanyeol’s ears and that seemed to be the trick, Chanyeol got up and faced Baekhyun “WHAT?”
“You need to calm the fuck down, don’t you ever do that again, understand?” said Baekhyun calmly.
By now you were crying as Lay and Chen tried to calm you, Chanyeol ignored his best friend going back to you pushing the guys aside untying his belt.
“I’m going to fuck this bitch if it’s the last thing I do in my life”
As an instinct you hid behind Baekhyun’s back, taking everyone by surprise, even Baekhyun himself. Your brain made you believe that he was the safest place, not Lay, not Chen, only Baekhyun.
“Baekhyun please, please, don’t let him touch me” you pleaded, your breath hitting his back hairs giving him instant goosebumps.
He was surprised that after all what happened between you two, you still saw in him a man, the man, the only man, ignoring your new friend Chen, the same one he thought you had a thing with, and even Lay who was basically your guardian angel.
“Why is that bitch hiding behind you? Why you? Baek-why!? WHAT ARE YOU HIDING FROM ME!? DID YOU FUCK HER TOO?”
“Chanyeol stop it! Don’t come closer” said Baekhyun calmly securing you behind him.
Chanyeol got more aggravated when he watched how you clung onto Baekhyun desperately, as if he were your saviour from the evil him, one hand on his shoulder the other on his hair, absolutely terrified of him. Chanyeol could only take so much and out of all guys you were clinging on his best friend, the same friend he’s confessed to how much he liked you, the same he had threatened to kill if he ever took you away from him.
Betrayal is what he felt…
“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU BAEKHYUN, AND YOU TOO BITCH, I SWEA-”
And that was when Lay’s patience run out, he interrupted Chanyeol punching his nose, knocking him to the ground, when you saw him fall your knees gave up and you landed on them.
Chen and Lay went on their knees too making sure you were alright. But you weren’t, you were having panic attack, you shivered and snivelled hysterically. Chen pulled you up and hugged you while patting on your back.
“No time for this right now, listen to me ___, you need to get out of here, quick! If you want to report this I will support you, but for now please you need to leave. Fast before he regains his consciousness”
“I’ll take her home” said Chen.
“No no no, not her home, Baekhyun take her to my apartment, you stay here with me Chen. I don’t want Baekhyun here either right now"
“But Xian came with you hyung, and you know how she is” said Baekhyun.
“Shit yes, Chen check on Chanyeol while think of this one”
Chen patted your back one last time before detaching himself from you, Baekhyun was close to you so he just naturally took Chen’s place, the moment his hand touched your back you lifted your sorrowful face and looked at him in the eye. Just a few hours ago you thought that you would never be able to be this close to him, few seconds ago he hated your guts, but then this happened, and now he was patting your back.
“Yes I got it!” said Lay snapping his fingers “So Baekhyun! From now on you are ___’s boyfriend”
Both of you shut your eyes wide open at Lay in disbelief of his request.
“Xian will skin me alive if I brought a girl home of any kind, I can’t even have a female secretary”
“I don’t understand” you said confused.
“Xian my girlfriend, she is the insanely jealous type, but hey! I love her more than anything in the face of earth, so that’s it, you are Baekhyun’s girlfriend and an argument happened at work with Chanyeol, and that is why you cannot go back to Baekhyun’s apartment”
“I can go to a hotel” you suggested “I don’t want to cause problems, I also need to be alone”
“I don’t want Chanyeol finding you, until you decide what you want to do, you are staying with Xian and I, also because the last thing you need is to be alone at the moment”
You sat in the car next to Baekhyun, the only thing audible were your sobs, you were waiting for any kind of apology, any kind of supportive words, any kind of feeling or emotion… perhaps this was for the better, Baekhyun wasn’t the right guy for you, he had many chances to prove otherwise but he chose to take his evil’s friend side.
You chose to give him another chance to be at least human…
“We need to get our story straight”
You didn’t acknowledge what he said and just ignored him as you ket crying.
“So I saw you when I was in high school, we met in the park and I had a crush on you, I also used to see you in the convenience store, I used to visit everyday but it couldn’t be. So when I saw you again after 10 years, I knew it was fate, I couldn’t let you slip from my hands this time, and things develop-”
“It sounds accurate, you are describing exactly what happened, only that it was me instead of you” you interrupted.
Baekhyun gulped turning his head at you, giving you a new face expression that you’ve never seen before… not readable however…
“Yes baobei, she is Baekhyun’s girlfriend” said Lay through the phone trying to sound convincing.
“Why here? I don’t get it, why can’t Baekhyun take her somewhere else?”
“Xian, it’s very complicated, I will explain when I go home. Chanyeol is still unconscious, be a little bit understanding, supportive, Xian I need you, don’t be a burden in this difficult time, try and help me out”
“Supportive by bringing a random girl home?”
“She is not a random girl Xian, she is Baekhyun’s girlfriend, and they are on their way, get the visitor’s bedroom ready, do this for me baobei”
Xian opened the door already not impressed, your puffy eyes and Baekhyun standing uneasy at the door, you looked weird. Distant…
“Xian! I missed you, how have you been? When was the last time you came to Korea?”
“Hi Baekhyun, I missed you too. Well your hyung doesn’t bring me often, you should talk to him” she replied as she hugged him giving you a nasty look.
“This is my girl ___, ___ this is Xian, Lay hyung’s fiancé”
You offered your hand shyly as Xian took it judging you hard.
“But please come in, don’t just stand there”
“I really need to go Xian, we had a huge problem with Chanyeol today and they need me”
“They need you… well your girlfriend looks like she’s had better days, and you just want to leave her? Sounds off… what is all this Baekhyun? And don’t you dare lying to me”
“I don’t think ___ wants me here though, she’s a bit upset with me”
Baekhyun really tried to improvise but Xian was hard to fool.
“I’ll go get you a glass of water dear” Xian tapped on your shoulder heading to the kitchen.
“Damn it! She is too intelligent” whispered Baekhyun to himself audible enough for you to hear.
“Don’t look but she is watching us” he added coming closer with a smile.
His hands took yours, brushing his thumbs on the back of your hands while bringing you closer slowly “just go with it, don’t act awkward, please” he said before embracing you into a soft hug.
His left hand holding you from your waist as the other stroked your hair lightly “for god sakes Xian is just watching us, from the kitchen hole, I can’t believe it” spoke Baekhyun low in your ear.
You couldn’t believe him right now, what was he? Did he have blood running in his veins or Seven Up? Was he just this cold? All he cared about now was Xian?
You started to cry not knowing how to act anymore.
“I want to die, I thought yesterday was the worst day my life but nothing will top this, you have no consideration of my feelings” your weep loud and desperate.
Baekhyun pushed you lightly at your shoulders to look at you, his heart was ripping deep down inside, he knew he was the one who hurt you and not Chanyeol, or anyone else for that matter.
His hands didn’t respond to his own commands when they landed on both sides of your head at your ear level. He brought you closer to his own until his forehead rested on yours, his thumbs wiping your tears feeling how you stopped breathing for a moment, your eyes doubled in size questioning his actions.
His hands cupped your cheeks as he titled his head to one side kissing your cheek, then your nose, then the side of your lips, all while your breath was held in disbelief.
His head went backwards slightly to watch your reaction, you had stopped crying, and you almost had forgotten that you were allowed to breath. Suddenly feeling better.
“Encircle my neck”
“Hmm?”
He took your arms and placed them over his shoulders, his own hands sliding feeling all your back until they rested at your waist bringing you closer. He nudged your nose before titling his head again, this time his lips landing on yours. Your heart started to pump blood so fast that you were afraid it might explode, it was just a simple peck, but when he moved away you tightened the grip on him.
“Keep acting” he spoke on your lips.
“I am not acting Baekhyun-ssi”
When he heard you say that he exhaled calming himself down, your voice gave him a tingling sensation in his stomach, he looked to his side momentarily and back at your face, you were adorable, after all this you still had nice words for him. He hated himself, he hated seeing you this vulnerable, he hated not knowing what exact messages his brain was giving, he was confused…
He walked forward to the nearest wall caging you with his body, both hands at the nape of your neck bringing you close to him his lips landing on yours harder this time, he had no hesitation in pulling your lower lip between his teeth before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his lips were soft and warm and felt just right, like no other kiss you’ve experienced before.
He moved slowly and you complied his movements, he pressed his body harder when the kiss deepened feeling your shivers, both his hands moving from your neck to the wall behind you as he felt that you were comfortable and not going anywhere, your hands pulling at the lapels of his blazer to get better hold of him.
He stoped for a moment to catch his breath. When he saw you smile he hated it, he hated the effect he had on you even when he was being a jackass, but he also liked it too much. Like a forbidden feeling that he wasn’t allowed to have.
“Guys? The visitor’s room is ready, you can go there an discuss whatever happened that made ___ upset with you Baekhyun” interrupted Xian offering you the glass of water.
Baekhyun run his hands over his face as you giggled.
“I really need to go, Lay hyung will want to kill me for taking this long”
“Of course, don’t you guys be late for dinner, you can spend the night here too”
Baekhyun looked at you drawing a little smile on his face, when he heard your giggles he almost forgot the big shit he just got himself into.
“Take care of my Yixing, Baekhyun”
“Take care of my ___, Xian”
When he closed the door to leave he scolded himself, he took the stairs to clear his mind. Did this actually happen? How could he just give in too… too what? Was it curiosity? Was it because he liked how you liked him? Was it to calm you down after what happened? Did he like you? What about Chanyeol? What about Chen?
“Aghrrrrr” he punched the streaking wheel as he drove away.
He didn’t know what to do or where to go because lay had actually told him not to come near the office that day, but he wanted to check on Chanyeol, even after being the biggest asshole, he still wanted to check on him.
Meanwhile with Xian things started to look better, once she witnessed the unexpected scene, she didn’t doubt of your relationship with Baekhyun. She asked you all sorts of questions about how you met and you went wild with the answers. You weren’t really lying, you just exposed how much he got stuck to your head since that moment at the skateboard park 10 years ago.
Xian noticed how your face expression changed when Chanyeol was mentioned and how your face lit up when it was Baekhyun you talked about. She also tried to get some details on what happened, but Lay advised her not to be pushy because it was a sensitive issue. You also avoided any talking in the matter.
You helped her prepare dinner and helped her cleaning the apartment that was closed for several weeks.
“I could give you something to change into but it will not fit you, I’m minuscule, I wish I had those hips and boobs”
You chuckled when you heard her complementing you the way she did.
“I’ll call Baekhyun to get me something”
Just the idea of being this close to Baekhyun made your heart flutter.
Chanyeol regained his consciousness looking around, he lay in the same couch were he had pushed you hours ago. Sehun and Kai were there now having a small talk about the incident.
“Where is Baekhyun?”
“Hyung! Are you OK? How do you feel?” asked Sehun while Kai didn’t move from his seat, way too annoyed with him to even ask if he was alright.
Chanyeol got up holding onto his head, he was still dizzy from the alcohol and the punch. He headed outside his office, looking for Baekhyun, he went straight to Lay’s office without knocking where he found Baekhyun there with Lay, and before they could do anything about it Baekhyun was met with Chanyeol’s fist on his jaw, causing an immediate bleed as he bit on is lip.
“Chanyeol!” exclaimed Lay.
Soon all the guys were holding onto Chanyeol to avoid him from getting closer to Baekhyun.
“Traitor, I hate you, I trusted you, I let you in, I never treated you like you were any different, but you are just a cheap rat, just like your family, you are worth nothing Byun Baekhyun!”
Xiumin pulled Chanyeol out of the office, Sehun, D.O and Suho followed them, while Kai and Chen stayed in Lay’s office with Baekhyun.
“I told you not to come here! I would recommend you not to come for a while Baekhyun” said Lay patting on his back.
“Hyung, what happened between you and ___? Are you playing her?” asked Kai “because if you are that punch you just received is nothing comparing to what I will do” he continued as he handed him a tissue to clean the blood at the side of his mouth.
“I’m not playing with anyone, look who is talking, all of you were playing this stupid game and now I am getting blamed”
“He is not playing her Kai, I think it’s ___, she likes Baekhyun-ah, am I right?”
“Well damn ___, she’s actually falling for the best one among us, she has a good taste Baekhyun-ah” added Lay kissing Baekhyun hard on his cheek.
Baekhyun was suppressing a smile, he did blush however, just the thought excited him, but then he was reminded that this costed him his best friend.
“Reminds me, here call her because she needs you to bring her some clothes from her apartment” said Lay taking Baekhyun’s phone from his hand to save your number.
“C-clothes? Is that necessary?”
“It is because if Xian finds out there’s nothing between you 2 I will not sleep in my bed tonight, and that is something I don’t look forwards to” added Lay typing your number on his phone.
“Oh but hyung, she is convinced” whispered Baekhyun looking at his hands.
“What did you do you little shit?” asked Lay as he encircled his arm around Baekhyun’s neck “tell me all about it as we go to her apartment”
“Mmm hi”
“Hi”
“I am at your apartment- Lay hyung said-”
“My passcode is 0000″
“Wow ingenuous, not very secure, anyone can guess it”
“I’m forgetful” you giggled.
“So what do I need to get you from here?”
“Alright so, first of all take your shoes off” Baekhyun smiled into the phone “then go to my room, there is a chest of drawers. Get me a pair of leggings and a t-shirt from the 2nd drawer”
Baekhyun opened the door to your room and smiled again, you were extremely tidy, everything smelled like fabric softer, a soft and sweet one.
He put you on loud speaker placing the phone on your bed, he opened the drawer and found an assortment of leggings, he pulled out the blue ones and a pink t-shirt.
“OK got them, anything else? I can bring you home tomorrow morning and you can pack a small bag anyways”
“Sounds good but until then, I need…”
“Yes?”
“Socks! Yes a pair of socks from the 1st drawer”
Baekhyun opened it without hesitation meeting your underwear instead of socks.
“Oh… there-there’s no… there’s only…”
“Get me one please”
“Which one?”
“Anyone”
“I’m not going to pick for you your freaking underwear ___”
“Just pull anyone”
“I can’t chose”
“It’s better than telling you get me the lacy one or the stripy one, just pull anything”
“OK bye” Baekhyun hung up with a loud sigh.
He was sweating, he looked away placing his hand over the bras, what he didn’t expect was literally getting a static shock from the nylon fabric, his hand retracted forced to look straight ahead, his eyes falling on your bras.
‘It’s like as if they want me to look at them’ thought Baekhyun in his head.
He placed his hand over the lacy one that caught his eye, nothing fancy but he liked it, he pulled it carefully feeling the cups shamelessly, he was about to close the drawer when he was thought that you might need panties as well.
But she didn’t ask, I should close the drawer and leave… but then again if she was going to change her bra for sure she must need fresh panties… but no, it would look weird I just came with panties that she didn’t ask for… but also I didn’t give her the change to ask for anything else.
Baekhyun’s thoughts clouded him.
Fuck it.
He looked through the drawer getting the matching panties placing everything in a small bag.
Lay and Baekhyun arrived earlier than expected, Xian welcomed Lay with a kiss and a jump encircling her arms around his neck, Lay absolutely adored her, it was mutual. How much you envied having something like that, they moved from the door never breaking the kiss to let Baekhyun in, he whispered a ‘hi’ shyly, but you guessed you had to show some sort of affection, you went on your tiptoes kissing his cheek softly, taking him by full surprise. You noticed a little scar that wasn’t there this morning, you frowned and felt it with your fingertips, Baekhyun watching your worried face.
“Chanyeol?”
“It’s nothing ___, I’m alright”
Dinner went well, you cleared the table and Baekhyun took some plates to the kitchen to help you. You loaded the dishwasher in silence but the gazes Baekhyun was giving you made you happy. He was shy and treated you with care, it felt awkward but nice, this is all you ever dreamt about, having Baekhyun close to you, it felt perfect.
“So guys we are going to bed early, please make yourself comfortable” announced Lay as he held Xian from her back kissing the crown of her head.
“I should head home too” said Baekhyun.
“But wait, no Baekhyun stay the night here”
“Xian let him go, a lot happened today” said Lay pulling Xian to their bedroom.
“Wait, how is this possible? Aren’t you dating? You sleep away from each other? On a day like this? You said ___ was upset with you and you are just going to leave her?” Xian’s tone sounded suspicious, Lay was clearly panicking.
“I guess they are right, we just thought that invading your apartment like this was not…”
“Nonsense, Yixing baobei get Baekhyun something comfortable to wear”
“No need, I don’t use pyjamas” said Baekhyun winking at you.
He managed yet again to make you hyperventilating with the though to ‘naked Baekhyun’ in your bed.
Baekhyun closed the door of the visitor’s bedroom, you were blushing your cheeks felt like burning.
“I will leave when I make sure they are asleep, you can tell them I left for work early”
You nodded taking the bag with your clothes entering the ensuite bathroom, you took a shower and put on your comfy leggings and t-shirt, you combed your hair and went outside, Baekhyun was sitting in the armchair wearing only his undershirt as he played with his phone, he lifted his head and smiled at you again.
You weren’t coping with Baekhyun smiles, he looked too beautiful… too dreamy.
Baekhyun stood up taking your hands in his “I am sorry for today, I am sorry for everything”
“It was the worst day but also the best… although you didn’t get me socks… but you got me panties, I don’t recall asking for panties Baekhyun-ssi”
“I’ll take a shower” he replied nervously.
When he got out of the bathroom he saw you lying down in bed hugging the pillow, he thought you were asleep, so he tried not to make any noise.
“Baekhyun?” you asked with sleepy voice rubbing your eyes.
“Shhh go back to sleep, I’ll sleep in the armchair”
“No I will feel horrible, you take the bed” you tried getting up but his hand stopped you making you fall back in bed.
“I insist”
“I hope you don’t mind that I leave the night stand light on, I can’t sleep in the dark”
He nodded covering himself with the quilt closing his eyes.
But how could you fall asleep anyways having him in front of you in the same bedroom? You were ‘sharing the room’ were you dreaming?
Not that Lay and Xian made it easy to sleep with all the fun they were having, but you were not planning to sleep…
Indulged in memorising every single detail in Baekhyun’s pretty face. His damp fringe falling on his forehead, the little pout forming in his beautiful soft lips, the mole in his upper lip that was the cherry on the top, imagining next time you had a chance to make sure and feel it with your fingertips, just the thought alone made you giggle covering your mouth in excitement.
You were so consumed by Baekhyun… he made it actually possible to forget all the bad experience of this morning. He made you happy…
After 2 hours of uninterrupted staring, you got thirsty, you got up and went to the kitchen to get some water, the entertainment at Lay’s bedroom was still on, you snorted hearing all the talk they were having while they were at it taking another sip of water.
“Still awake?”
You gasped in surprise when you heard Baekhyun’s voice dropping the mug on the floor.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I’ll clean that, don’t move”
Baekhyun bent down collecting the pieces carefully, luckily the mug broke neatly in 3 big pieces.
“I heard it! There is someone in the kitchen” you heard Xian’s voice whisper-shouting nervously.
Baekhyun took off his undershirt in one swift movement standing up, he hugged you burying his face in the crock of your neck.
“Oh! It’s you guys!” said Lay holding on to the baseball bat in one hand his eyes doubled in size shellshocked at the view, he didn’t realise that whatever was happening between you 2 had developed this much.
“Goodnight guys”
When Lay and Xian left Baekhyun detached himself from you “I’m sorry”
You didn’t answer and just headed back to the bedroom. He followed you knowing he screwed up. Again.
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to do… this” he said putting his undershirt back on.
Your mind was clouded, too fast… too uncertain… too… you couldn’t put your finger on what was really happening.
“Are you going to keep acting? For Xian I mean?” you asked sounding pissed. But you could never really be, not with Baekhyun.
“Are you upset? I swear is not my intention, not after tod- I don’t want to upset you anymore”
“I kind of actually am, you haven’t gotten me any socks” you flashed your killer smile when you heard genuineness in his apology.
He run his fingers through his hair nervously, as if hesitant.
“Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Are you one of those perverts that look through womens underwear?”
Baekhyun took 2 steps forward grabbing your waist roughly attacking your lips without previous warning, it was so sudden that you winced at the action, he didn’t move for a second to taste waters and make sure that you welcomed it, and he got his answer when your hands caressed his chest before returning the kiss.
You heard a loud groan as he kept pushing you till the back of your knees hit the bed before falling on the mattress.
“Damn it, why are you so cute? It really pays off to be the good guy sometimes, I got the girl everyone wants”
“Baekhyun”
He leaned over taking your lips again, savouring every corner without fear, he loved the feeling of being selfish right now. Not thinking about anyone but you and him, you were so docile, so pure, so everything he wanted. He liked this, he liked it a lot…
You gasped for air when you felt his body rest comfortably over yours, he retracted caressing your face “I’m sorry got carried away, you are too beautiful, I’m acting like a jerk” he said standing up.
You saw him sit in the armchair wiping his lips with his fingers looking at you intensely.
“I guess the armchair is not comfortable” you said naively.
“Go to sleep ___”
“But you have work tomorrow, and your back… the bed is big enough, we could share it”
________________________
A/N: Is he being an asshole? Or not?
Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed ^_^
#baekhyun#baekhyun series#baekhyun au#baekhyun angst#baekhyun smut#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun fanfiction#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun fic#exo beakhyun#baekhyun imagine#byun baekhyun#beakhyun scenario#baekhyun ceo#exo series#exo scenarios#exo smut#exo fanfiction#exo fanfic#exo fluff#exo k#exo ceo#exo au#exo angst#exo imagine#exo story#saviour au#kpop smut#kpop series#kpop scenarios
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