#WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HOLY WATER AND HOLY HAND GRENADE!?
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A rant about something I looked up and regret...
(CW: Swearing, all caps, very cursed things [AKA personifying countries and shipping them], stereotypes)
So my friend told me about this thing called "Countryhumans", and that friend told me that they had mixed feelings, and also told me to not look it up.
And fellas, I made a fatal mistake.
I looked it up, because I'm built wrong, and all I can say is...
BLLLEEEEEUUUUUGGGGHHHHEEEEEWWWW! WHAT THE FUCK-
WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I WITNESSED!?
RUSSIA X UKRAINE!?
POLAND X USSR!?
POLAND X NAZI GERMANY!?
PALESTINE X ISRAEL!?
RUSSIA X AMERICA!?
CANADA X NORTH KOREA!?
CHINA X JAPAN!?
USSR X NAZI GERMANY!?
ALBANIA X SERBIA!?
FUCKING SERBIA X BOSNIA!?
HAVE THOSE PEOPLE EVER TOUCHED HISTORY BOOKS!? HAVE THEY EVER LOOKED AT POLITICS!?
AND A MAJORITY OF THE TIME THE NATIONS WERE BEING STEREOTYPICAL OR STRAIGHT-UP OFFENSIVE!? (i.e: Poland being portrayed as "weak" and "defenseless")
MY THERAPIST WILL BE HEARING ABOUT THIS SHIT-
I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO MY FRIEND-
FELLAS MAYBE WE SHOULDN'T PERSONIFY NATIONS AND SHIP THEM!? MAYBE LOOK AT HISTORIES AND POLITICS!?
#cw swearing#cw all caps#cw personified nations#tw swearing#tw all caps#tw personified nations#cw rant#tw rant#rant post#crystalsandbubbletea#crystals rants#crystal rants#bubble tea rants#bubble rants#tea rants#rian rants#rant#WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HOLY WATER AND HOLY HAND GRENADE!?#cw stereotypes#tw stereotypes#mom and dad come pick me up i'm scared-
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fallout 4 positng again I'm borwd
I'm halfway through a thing of frosting don't. don't come at me bros.
HANCOCK APPRECIATION MOMENT. I have an obsession. stepped on a mine and he went "are you okay? see any more?"
my HEART.
who couldn't love this man your first interaction is him stabbing the fuck outta a guy who tried to scam you. it's beautiful, really. get yoself a man willing to stab someone for u when you haven't even met yet.
slash jay dont
don't stab people pls this is fiction
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I think nick is better in a fight. oh god
this guy has a mini gun NOPENOPENOPENOPEOPENOEPEMOPNO
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i died
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I killed someone and he said "you handled yourself pretty well, sister"
explodes
HANCOCK STOP NOOOO
HE'S RUNNING INTO THE ROOM WITH THE MINIGUN GUY
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He fucking stabbed her to death what the actual fuck how did he not die (legendary gunner???? wtf????)
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I stole the minigun
perfect for me (Hancock keeps giving me drugs, and he likes when I get hooked on em. I refuse to buy more drugs so until he gives me more drugs I have no drugs. sorry it's not my fault jet is so useful </3)
Hancock I'm glad you're proud of yourself for getting me addicted to everything under the fucking sun. ily <3
oh I'm overweight now. minigun too heavy </3
throws it at Hancock
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does fallout 4 do the same thing as skyrim where if your companions inventory is full you can make them pick stuff up and it'll still work
I dont actually know
Hancock though is now carrying two miniguns (Ashmaker and Junkie's) and a fat man. and I think he has 2 rocket launchers for some reason? not sure.
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I'm so glad I have NO AMMO.
I'm out of 10mm, .44, and the only weapon I can use rn is basically my deathclaw hand
which isn't bad but it's up close and personal . in a gun fight.
I have a shit ton of .38 and .45 (755 and 489 respectively) but no guns for those :/
and now that I think about it I'm out of ammo for both my flamer and cryo thing so idk why I'm carrying them wtf
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maybe I'm overweight from the
yknow
50 fucking mirelurk eggs
why
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unrelated but I watched the show the other day. so good.
genuinely it felt more like the game than anything else I've watched
like . tlou was good. but it didn't feel like the game. fo felt like the game. there were moments that were just. perfect.
random radaways around, the time slowing down slightly in battle feeling like vats, so good
ok rant over (I would love to rant about it more if anyone wants to chat I'm lacking people to talk about it with other than my mother and that's kinda sad)
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I had to step back from a fight due to low hp and Hancock walked up next to me and destroyed them with the minigun I gave him
so real ❤️
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AH GRENADE
I sploded. rip
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STUCK ON DEBRIS 💔💔 WORST DAY EVER
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I picked up a coffee cup and got too much weight
no I refuse to drop the deathclaw hands and hide I lug around
I feel like this is fo4's version of the dragon scales and bones from skyrim </3
..maybe a little lot less heavy . but come on where else do I put em
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AYO HANCOCK
"I didn't say we were finished" in the middle of battle
mMMMmmMMM?????????
I'm so gay
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advanced lock vs a skyrim veteran with 90+ lockpicks, who will win
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yum
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FUCK YOU TOO
sobs violently
I can't believe I'm being forced to drop junk on the ground I'm so sad
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ok but
why
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I have so much jet...... Hancock I love you
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consequences of my actions (i had to drop more junk)
....... I blame the castle.
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HOLY SHIT I JUST GOT DRUGGED WATER
FUCK YEAH
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God I can't handle the dlcs being glitched.
PURPLE GUY!?!??!!?
sobbing. fr
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I'm about 2/3 of the way through this frosting send help
I need to put it away
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I was fixing my blanket and I didn't pause the game but hancock started doing knife tricks
im.
losing it.
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IM SORRY?
i
hate this dlc (not really)
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fuck mirelurks
I have mirelurk trauma (the castle quest)
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dies
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"not a lot of folks would travel with a ghoul, not even one with my charisma" i would any day yes pls ily
"just say the word if you wanna take a little Chem break" I WOULD LOVE TO.
I went to talk to him and i hit "talk" and he went "for you, any time" or something and I'm losing my shit
"seems to me like you're my kinda trouble" when I hit relationship 🥰
random but I love his voice it's just
idk something about it is really nice to me even though it falls into the category of voice types that I usually don't really like
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this has become me obsessing over Hancock holy fuck
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you've gotta be fucking kidding me
SHE CANT FIT AJAHWISHSH
halfway through her hp bar took about 200 bullets
ALL I GOTTA WORRY ABOUT IS THE LITTLE BABIES SHE SHITS OUT AHAHAHA
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........I don't have enough ammo for this like genuinely
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Oh you could write one where reader and Supergirl are fighting together against some supervillain and reader gets hurt and almost dies and Kara is freaking out because she can't lose her girlfriend and just... angst (please don't kill reader though, i'm begging you)
Kara Danvers x Reader #5
Words: 1,905
Warnings: Angst, Explosion not described in detail. Just an aftermath.
Notes:
MWHAHAHA! I technically didn’t listen to your plead...so i’m sorry? (Thank you for the request and sorry for all spelling mistakes)
——
They were kids.
You weren’t bulletproof like Kara, definitely not grenade proof, you knew that...but they were kids. Kids clutching onto their mom looking terrified. Terrified that their mom would get hurt, terrified that the three of them were going to die.
You’re terrified too. Lately as your life has gotten better with Kara, beautiful, caring Kara, you’ve been getting more scared everyday, scared that something was going to happen to ruin your happiness.
The fear is almost enough to paralyze you when you see the latest National City supervillain get ready to throw the grenade, but alas...when the man throws the grenade the stupid instinct to protect overtakes you and you jump into the air to catch it like a ball, before it can get to close to the family.
You’re more invincible than them, even if you’re not nearly as invincible as Kara...it’s time to test that theory, you think bitterly.
Turns out—when the grenade goes off and a piercing scream hits the air—you’re not that much more invincible than a regular human.
Kara, you think, tears running down your face, Kara, Kara, Kara. Kara. Everything hurts but all you can think about is Kara and whether or not she’s going to be okay fighting without you. Forever, possibly. Fighting without you forever, and just thinking about your death feels like ice water being poured over you until the cold sinks in and it’s just panic.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It takes moments before she’s by your side, moments that feel like a lifetime, she was slowed by the kryptonite she was fighting against and wasn’t able to get to you in time when the grenade went off but now she’s here, and she’s sobbing. Sobs that wrack her body, and you’re trying to sit up despite the ringing in your ear.
“Kara!” You yell, eyes wide, and you don’t want to be doing this to her, you want to pretend like you’re okay with this—you want to be strong for her—but you can’t. You can’t, because holy fuck. Fuck. “I can’t feel my legs, Kara. Baby, I can’t feel anything. I can’t...why can’t I move?”
Kara places a hand on your chest, and you can feel that, it hurts, “Alex,” she says into the comms, “it’s Y/N...she’s badly injured. I can’t bring her to the DEO, I can’t fly; the kryptonite is still in the air around us, and I can’t move her away from it either.”
You hear Kara’s panicked voice next to you, and when you focus you hear it in your own comms.
Alex’s voice crackles through immediately, and even she sounds scared, “how bad, Kara?”
“She says she can’t feel her legs, and she...she’s losing a lot of blood. She’s cold, too, and her breathing is labored,” Kara’s practically ranting now, her fingers shaking against your chest. “I’d put pressure on the wound but there’s a lot of blood and I don’t know—”
You turn your face away from Kara when her hand travels to your cheek, and you try to tune her out, because her face...it really says everything about your condition, and you don’t want to hear Kara talk about all of the ways you’re dying.
You catch the last thing Alex says and it fills you with dread that makes your bones feel even heavier, “keep her awake, Kara. There’s no telling if she’ll wake up again if she falls asleep now.”
Kara’s resulting sob rips your heart to shreds.
“I didn’t realize until I met you how much I don’t want to die,” you tell her after a moment filled with her cries. You’ve never felt so scared in your life (besides after Kara’s fight with Reign) “but I really don’t want to, Kara. I really don’t want to.”
“You won’t,” Kara says, trying to give you a reassuring smile, “you won’t because I need you to stay. What am I supposed to do without you?” She tries to laugh afterwards but it’s really just a choked sound, and you can hear the fear in her words.
The iron taste that was on your tongue felt like death, but now as you slowly start to taste it less, and as the smell of gasoline slowly slips away, you wonder if this is really a sign of death. The reapers signature.
“You’ll live.” You say, “you have to. There’s no other choice.” Your voice is filled with too much certainty for a dying woman, “It’ll be fine. You’ll get to eat the last popsicle in the fridge,” a humorless chuckle forces its way out of your throat, “I hid it. It’s under the frozen peas.”
You can tell by the look on Kara’s face what she’s thinking about. A half empty bed when she goes home alone to your shared apartment, your favorite mug sitting on the counter half full of cold coffee, your dishes still in her sink—your sink—your clothes in the washing machine, your…
“I can’t,” Kara whispers, her voice filled with the amount of sorrow only she can manage, “I can’t lose two of my worlds. I’m not strong enough.”
Kara Zor-El not being strong enough. It’s a humorous thought. You know Kara will fight, she’ll fight because it’s all she knows. She’ll find her reason. She won’t give up on the world, even if she gives up on herself for some time. It’s the one thing you need to be sure of right now.
“Yeah you are,” you mumble, trying to lift your shaky hand to cup her cheek. She grabs a hold of your hand and helps you to your destination. You try not to scream curses at the world at the sight of your blood on her pale cheek. “You, Kara Danvers, are an anomaly in the way you never let anything knock you down.”
“This is enough,” Kara promises, and it’s the last promise you’d ever want to hear from her, “you’re enough to ruin me.”
“Kara,” you whisper, hating the world so furiously in that moment for all it wants to take. “That’s the last thing I want to hear...I only ever want to build you up.”
“And you do,” Kara says, “but love really does both, doesn’t it? Sometimes it hurts as much as it heals.”
“That isn’t fair,” you whimper out, and Kara nods against your hand, closing her eyes and trying not to breathe in the smell of your blood.
Moments later Kara opens her eyes in a panic after realizing that you haven’t spoken, only to see you trying to blink your eyes awake. She squeezes your hand repeatedly, trying to get your attention. “Y/N, it’s not time.” She tells you desperately, “it’s not time.”
One of her tears fall against your cheek, causing you to pout. “Stop crying,” you slur, delirious from the blood loss, “I resent it when you cry because of me.”
Kara shakes her head, only crying harder.
You smile up at her sadly, “I'm sorry i’m dying.” And you mean it.
“Stop saying that,” Kara pleads, like it’s breaking her, “stop.”
You wish you could give Kara what she wants but your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier and you don’t think you have much time. “Just tell Alex to name a kid after me, or at least tell her to name a fish after me.”
Kara’s shaking her head and shaking your arm, trying to get you to open your eyes again, “Y/N! Hey! Stop, come on, baby, just open your eyes…”
You try, you really do, you’ve never tried so hard to listen before, and it works for a moment, just for a second you manage to open your eyes, much to Kara’s relief, and that’s when you finally notice a crowd of people and a slumped alien (the man you two were fighting) a little ways behind you and Kara. When did Kara do that to him? When did the people come?
It’s when you see Alex though, rushing out of a black van, that you feel some sort of relief. Alex will protect Kara when you’re gone. You’re sure of it.
—
“Wake up! Wake up,” Kara sobs, “Alex, Alex—please, she’s not—”
—
“She died, Kara, in the van, we managed to bring her back...but things are looking uncertain right now. For now, the best thing you can do is look after yourself”
Kara’s glowing red eyes snap up from the floor towards Alex. Her powers have been going haywire since they arrived at the DEO. “Save her,” Kara pleads, voice hoarse from crying. “Please.”
—
It’s late at night after Kara hears your heart stop (the second time) that she gets placed in kryptonite handcuffs.
Alex doesn’t want to do it but Kara isn’t in control of her powers anymore, and she almost seriously hurt someone. Multiple times.
Kara doesn’t leave your side after they get your heart going again, she can’t hear your heart with the kryptonite on so the only thing she can take comfort in is the beeping of your heart monitor.
—
You wake up two weeks after your accident.
Kara’s asleep next to you when you do.
You’re confused and thirsty so it takes you several long moments for you to remember what happened, and once you do you’re sobbing hard, crying loud enough to startle awake a sleeping Kara.
She freezes when she sees you, you’re curled up in the hospital bed and shaking with your relief and the leftover fear, and she’s watching you like she doesn’t know what to do now that you’re awake.
She’s been praying for this moment, imagining it, waiting for it day after day, minute after minute, second after second, but now that it’s actually happened she’s paralyzed with her overwhelming emotions.
“Y/N?” Kara stutters, eyes filling with her own tears of relief.
You laugh at Kara’s face, loud and completely joyful, and suddenly she’s sobbing too, grinning all the while, because you’re here—finally— you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, and you’re laughing, and the world is finally okay again too.
“Damn, weren’t we dramatic?” You smirk, paying no mind to the tears running down your or her face.
Kara laughs, pulling you into a careful hug (she got her handcuffs taken off only a day ago). “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” you whisper back, tightening your hold on Kara as much as you can and simply breathing her in. Breathing life in.
“I feel like i’m dreaming,” Kara says after a while, voice trembling. You feel like you're dead...and like you're in heaven. Is this heaven?
“You aren’t,” you reassure Kara anyways.
She nods against your shoulder, shaking even harder than you were. “Are you okay?” You ask worriedly.
“you’re the one who had to go and die two times.”
“Nearly three times,” Alex says from the doorway.
You notice Kara tense and shift in front of you until she realizes it’s just Alex, and you think that’ll probably be something you two will have to talk about, but for now you roll your eyes at Alex and say, much to both Kara’s and her amusement; “the only reason you tried so hard to save me is because you didn’t want to name your kid after me, isn’t it?”
Alex’s shrug and “maybe” gets a glare from Kara and a smirk from you.
#kara danvers x reader#supergirl x reader#supergirl imagine#kara danvers imagine#kara zor el x reader#kara zor el imagine#fem reader#supergirl#kara danvers#kara zor el#alex danvers#dc x reader#kara x reader
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You Oughta Know
Summary: Bucky helps you get over a breakup.
Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader
Warning(s): Smut 18+, Public Sex, Revenge Acts, Cheating (just mentioned, acts not by main characters)
Word Count: 1,629
Beta Reader: @supersoldiersruined-me
Notes: The petty level of reader and Bucky is fun to write about as fiction but like...don’t actually do this. It’s all inspired by the song You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.
“I see you started without me, killer.”
There’s a quick clink as the metal from his hand collides with the bottle of bourbon he’s snatched out from under you. Bucky slides into the stool next to you.
“Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit. Not the hot, probably leads a rugged lifestyle as a secret assassin, looks like shit, but the real looks like shit.”
“So I look like shit?”
“Yes!” he says, matching your mock sarcasm after taking a pull directly off the bottle.
“One, fuck you. Two, I’m also living that rugged secret assassin lifestyle just like you. Three, I have a reason to look like shit.”
“You didn’t have a mission. You and Nat don’t go back out East for another month.” He flags the bartender down. “Whatever your largest plate of tater tots is, can you double that and smother it in cheese and bacon? Think tater tot poutine and you’re on the right track. I’m willing to pay, my good man.”
On any other day you’d tease him. The bartenders here had gotten pretty used to Bucky’s odd requests and the both of you blowing off mission steam at the karaoke stage. Instead of playfully ribbing your best friend, you lay on the bar and a single long sob tears through you.
“What the fuck!?” While the words were anything but, his tone is tender and concerned. “Sweetheart, what the hell is going on. I’ve seen you cry less when you’ve taken a bullet to the leg.”
“Tom broke up with me.”
You pry your head up from the bar sticky from years of ethanol sugar spills and lord knows what else to study his face. All things considered, he keeps control. It didn’t take any of your deductive skills to know that Bucky (and the entire team) had despised the man. That should have been your first clue.
“There was another woman.”
The next couple pulls from the bottle burn a bit less and have you feeling the type of mellow you’d sought when you’d texted Bucky for a night out. Your good feeling is interrupted by him plopping what looks to be at least six different guns on the bar, eight knives, and perhaps two frag grenades.
“Where’s his apartment, doll. I’ll be ready in two.”
“Dude, what the fuck!” The plate full of cheesy potatoes nearly slides off the bar as the bartender stares wide eyed at Bucky’s splayed arsenal. “We’ve talked about this, man.”
“Special circumstances, my friend. Slide me the ketchup, please.” You study your friend with a raised brow while he continues to appraise his ammo levels and take stock. “I’ll be ready in five. I didn’t account for the poutine.”
***
You’d managed, with great difficulty, to talk Bucky down from murder as he shoveled the poutine in his face.
“He can’t just get away with treating you like this?!”
You shrug a shoulder before waiving for another drink. You knew Bucky was right. Tom shouldn’t get to treat you like this. You’d been nothing but a supportive partner to him. He’s the one who has a laundry list of issues.
Your fingers play with the delicate blade of one of Bucky’s knives still strewn about the bartop; flipping it expertly through your favorite routine.
You’re unsure who can claim credit for dissuading Bucky from murdering Tom. It was likely a healthy mix of a carb coma, the two bottles of whiskey he’d knocked back himself (no doubt spiked with something Asguardian, and the unyielding pull towards the karaoke stage. Regardless, the night of laughter and drinks with your best friend seemed to be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things. You nearly threw a tantrum when you heard the bartender yell last call.
“Let’s go home and keep this party going, darling?”
“You read my mind, Buck.”
***
In traditional drunk fashion, the two of you get sidetracked stumbling and giggling on your way back to the compound. You’re certainly not alone on the ever busy city streets, but then again Bucky had a way of making you feel better than you thought possible.
“Hold on!” you slur mildly. “I’m gonna call that motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind.”
Normally Bucky would have been the voice of reason but he too was firmly intoxicated and more than willing to cuss your ex out. Without hesitation he smooshes himself behind you into the phonebooth you had already jumped into.
“Hey Tom, ya fuckface. I want you to know that I am happy for you, I wish nothing but the best for you both. Looks like you finally have someone who deserves you...another piece of shit human. I saw her picture, Tom. Do you not realize she’s just an older version of me. Does she speak eloquently? What the fuck did she do that I-”
The line clicks open and you freeze.
“Hello?” Tom asks into the phone. Bucky can see the pure terror in your eyes, slicing through the drunken bold stupor. “How are you doing?”
Your throat feels as though someone made you swallow sandpaper. You were ready to rant to an answering machine, but somehow hearing his voice made you feel stone cold sober. Before you can formulate a complete thought, the phone is yanked from your hands.
“You don’t get to ask how she’s doing. 'Cause the love that she gave, that you two made wasn't enough for you. And every time you speak her name I hope you’re filled with a feeling of immense regret because you’re never getting her back.”
“Oh please, like I want that heartless bitch back.”
“I'm here, to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. It's not fair to deny her of the cross she bears. YOU gave it to her. You oughta know.”
***
You’re hungover. The movie theater in the compound is a welcome refuge of darkness and quiet. So much so that by the second scene you’re softly snoring away in the seat next to Bucky.
Perfect.
He shimmys (not without difficulty) onto the floor in front of you on his knees and begins to pull the soft sweatpants down from the curve of your hips. So engrossed in his work he doesn’t notice your eyes flutter open until the cold steel of your glock is against his temple.
“What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?!”
“We talked about this, doll! Last night.” His limbs are perfectly still, hands resting on the soft warm skin in the small of your back.
***
You struggle to think back to the fuzzy details of last night after the horrific events in the phone booth. Bucky had held you close as you sobbed once more on the walk back home. You’d collapsed into bed without regard to your usual routine. You vaguely remembered Bucky saying “Don’t ya know babe, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”
“Honestly I just need someone to eat me out like it’s their last meal on earth.”
The entire exchange had made you snort laugh just before dozing off.
***
“I remember. You said someone should do this for me.”
“I’m a someone.” Only the sounds of the movie play in the background otherwise he could swear he would be able to hear you think. He risks a glance at your face and there is the expression he’d been waiting for. Pleading. Curiosity. Permission. “I want to do this for you. You deserve it, sweetheart.”
With the gun no longer aimed, but rather scraping against his scalp while your hands fumble, he dives into the uncharted water with his best friend. He knows your stubborn resignation refuses to let you just drop the weapon all together. You need to think that you’re not one hundred percent as curious as he is. Inching your pants and panties the rest of the way down, he kisses each new inch of exposed skin.
You clench your nondominant hand in his hair, dominant hand still holding the glock. The occasional tap of the cool metal against Bucky’s skin should annoy him, piss him off, make him stop or tell you to set it down but he doesn't. It makes him laugh somewhere deep down that his best friend and secret agent is getting devoured in a movie theatre and can’t form a complete enough thought to set down her weapon. The other part of him is straining against his jeans knowing that at any moment you can kick his ass and press that back up against his temple. Your strength has always terrified him and turned him on a little and he would never want it any different.
You feel as though someone has turned you inside out and every nerve ending is exposed and vulnerable. Your brain is no longer focused on the terrifying fact that your best friend is seeing you on display. Instead all you can feel are the sparks of pleasure from each lick, suck, and swirl. When he enters two digits deep and presses steady rhythmic pressure you explode. It’s a good thing the theatre was empty besides the two of you. There was no way you would have been able to stifle the deep primal sounds escaping from your lips.
You throw your arms off to the side as you recover. “Holy fuck, Barnes.”
“Told you.”
“Yeah but if anyone finds out, I’ll actually have to use this on you,” you gesture to your gun still hanging limply in your hand.
Taking advantage of your still jelly-boned state, Bucky easily disarms you. With a devilish grin and chuckle he drags the gun down your still exposed core making you shudder. “You sure about that, doll?”
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; car keys
― summary: most believed you and sam didn’t like each other-- yourselves included. but, when a mission goes awry, so do the hateful little façades you keep up.
― pairing: sam drake x reader
― word count: 3.5k (ish)
― warnings: swearing, violence (of the normal uncharted standard, i feel)
― A/N: this was a request from a while ago but i think it’s too late to like reply directly to it now so instead i present it to you all like this! there’s nothing better than a bit of mr samuel over here to get me back on the writing scene
my requests are OPEN if any of you are so inclined ;)
― ❊ ―
“Sam, throw me the car keys!”
Your gaze peered above the desk you’d kicked over, in a way similar to a mole testing the daylight, but when a spray of bullets shattered the glass behind you, you soon pushed yourself closer to the ground. Could today have gotten any worse? You didn’t think so. What was supposed to be a simple pick-up had turned into… this: a horrible tangle of guns, curses in a foreign tongue, and really quite lovely upholstery being destroyed. Maybe if you or Sam had died it could be considered worse but, at this point, you wouldn’t have even been surprised. Honestly, you had no idea if Sam was still alive on the other side of that counter; you couldn’t see his head peeking over the top and nor could you see his obnoxiously striped shirt from this angle.
“What?”
So he was still alive.
“The fucking car keys, Sam!” You let loose a few shots, arm twisted uncomfortably so you didn’t have to come entirely out of cover, and blindly hoped that someone would die so you both could have a breather. Yet, the assault continued, made clear by the sound of an empty clip being thrown to the ground over yonder. There: another curse in a language mostly unknown to you but you’d picked up enough in your time here to know that someone had just called you a ‘bitch’, followed by some far more offensive words that you were half-glad you couldn’t understand. There was no answer from your partner and so, despite your throat being dry and sore from the heat, you shouted again, “Sam? Now is not the time to ignore--”
“I gave them back to you!” You could just hear the irritation in his tone and you clenched your jaw. Stupid bastard. “You don’t have them?”
It was then that he took the opportunity to shuffle around the counter, meeting eyes with you briefly, before gesturing for you to make space for him. You, of course, had no choice in whether or not to do this because he was already lunging into a spot that you hadn’t yet made. You both bumped each other briefly, your shoulder knocking against the desk, before you were able to find a comfortable position-- well, as comfortable as possible with about six very angry armed men behind you.
Now wonderfully pissed off with your partner, you gave him a brief side glance before shooting again. “You’ve lost them?”
When he rolled his eyes, his head went with them. “I just told you--”
“Well, you didn’t give them back to me--”
“We were near that— uh— that little fish stall and--” He cut himself short, favouring pulling your head back into cover with a hand over arguing with you. He held you there as you came down from your brief-yet-blinding adrenaline high, ensuring that you didn’t foolishly pop up from behind the desk again like some kind of stupid weasel with a death wish. As soon as you realised this, you batted him away, the look on your face dripping with an underlying loss of pride, and reloaded your gun to avoid eye contact.
Despite your arguments, the pair of you were loyal to a fault and, while you did break your arm half-because of him once, you were both diligent in your protection of each other. When you thought of Sam Drake, your first reaction was to frown and reel off countless stories of him being an asshole. But, did you want hurt to come to him? No. Did you want to stop working with him? No. Did your heart churn a little bit when you thought of moments like these? Perhaps, though you’d be shot dead before you told anyone. When Sully had pointed out this strange hot-and-cold thing you both seemed to have going on, it was like he’d asked a teenage boy if he had certain magazines underneath his bed; “What? No--”, “Why would you ever think that?”, “That’s disgusting”-- you know, all of those lies.
“If we don’t have the keys, you’re gonna have to radio Victor.” As he mentioned this, he flinched away from bullets overhead, almost knocking his chin on your shoulder. “I broke my radio when we got split.”
You accidentally elbowed his collar when you turned to shoot. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Sam.”
“Really?” He feigned hurt when you looked at him next. “No, ‘Oh, Sam, I’m glad you’re not injured?’ Or ‘Sam, I’m relieved we found each other--’”
There was the brief, harsh static of a radio to cut him off and, as you asked “Sully?” down it, your gaze was like an ice burn on his skin.
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“We’re in a bit of a--” bullets slammed into the other side of the desk, wood chips now littering your hair. God, were you glad this thing was thick.
“Got trouble?”
“Yeah, and Sam lost our car keys--”
“I did not--”
“Figure this out at the bike racks behind school.” There was a certain amusement in Sully’s voice-- you could almost picture his sly little grin on the other side of the radio-- but you couldn’t deny that he was probably right; perhaps in the middle of a hotel lobby, surrounded by furious henchmen, wasn’t the best place to argue out your differences. “What do you guys need me to do?”
Sam, of course, still found time to be a wise-ass. “Sit and listen to our woes, Victor. That’s all that we’d like--”
You hit him in the arm and he winced. Rather than listen to your woes, all Sully heard was another spray of bullets on the other end of the receiver. “You’re nearby, right?”
“Got a cigar and some whiskey in that shady little motel we’re staying in, if that’s what you’re asking.”
At that, the pair of you found yourself huffing out a shared laugh between returning fire to those behind you. There was a pained shout-- that’s one down, at least-- and you pressed on the radio again. “Afraid that whiskey might have to wait, old man; we need you here. Now.”
“Preferablywithacar--” Sam managed to squeeze in before you clipped the radio back onto your belt. A brief look was shared between you both-- something similar to the look you’d give a friend when they did something idiotic-- before you, in unison, peeked over the desk again.
The assailants were starting to encroach on your little bubble of safety and, for each one that you’d taken out, it seemed like more were filing in. To your back, there were the main doors to the hotel, glass shattered all on the lovely red carpet-- a shame. That would be your exit— if Sully got here fast enough.
You had to give it to the old man: for how many years he had on him, he wasn’t afraid to get those creaky bones moving. By the time you were settled down, a nice partner, a few kids (if you ever really felt like it), Sully’d probably still be out swindling people and getting shot at. It was his passion, you supposed, but, God, at his age you’d rather be at home with a warm drink and a newspaper than making enemies left, right and—
“(Name)!”
At that, you could’ve jumped out of your skin. But, rather, you were thrown in the gap between Sam and the desk, his grip tight on your bicep, with very little time to think nor realise what was happening. There was a gunshot, then Sam’s body lifted upwards from beside you. Another gunshot, a sharp groan of pain, and a body falling to the floor. Not Sam’s, you were relieved to see— well, Sully would be more relieved to see it. Probably. Yeah, most definitely.
You reached up to yank him further into cover, lest he get shot. He did follow the force of your pull, sure, but also now your hand was smearing blood along his shirt. Fresh blood. His blood.
“Holy shit! Sam--”
“In the same fucking arm! I got shot in the--” he cut himself off with a groan, obviously tensing too much in his anger and agitating the bullet lodged into his bicep.
“Are you alright?” There was certainly a worry in your voice that was genuine-- eyes blown-wide.
Sam shuffled backwards, leaning his back against the desk, pistol still tight in the grip of his other hand. “Yeah, I’m just dandy, honey.”
You could only describe that sarcasm as ‘sobering’ and the familiarity of the fed-up glint in your eyes made him huff out a laugh. However, you didn’t seem to be finding the same humour in the situation as he was and you unclipped the radio from your belt. “Sully? Where are you?”
Bullets rang out across the room again and, just as Sam went to lean up over the desk and shoot, you pressed him back down with the radio to his chest and a quiet, “Don’t”. Instead, you took to retaliating against the opposition, the overwhelming adrenaline making your aim shaky and your head ache.
Sam clicked the radio on again. “Victor, buddy,” his voice sounded weak but in an overwhelmingly fake way; you would’ve shot him a chiding look had you not been trying to keep you both alive, “I think I’m bleeding out. I won’t last long. You gotta look after (Name) when I’m--”
A grenade smashed yet more of the window-- but from the outside this time. There was the distant rev of a car and-- you sniffed the air-- could you already smell cigars? You curled yourself over Sam, pulling his head down beneath you so no shrapnel from the explosion gave him the excuse to complain more.
The blast was deafening and you found one of your eyes watering at the pain of the noise. It seemed to have taken the majority of them out, the panicked shouting of a man with a dead leg the only thing you could hear on the other side of the lobby. Then, there was a loud, slow creaking as if a tree were about to fall or maybe that huge support column in the lobby--
“Holy shit.”
You began to hoist Sam up, tugging on his good arm to get him to his feet. “Sam-- Sam, we’ve gotta--” your eyes flickered up to the beam and it was splintering at the bottom, the ceiling following its swaying movements, “-- move. Now!”
“I know! I know!” He stumbled forward, almost falling straight into the glass-laced carpet if not for you being a wonderful makeshift pole. “Victor better have some bandages in that car…”
Glass crunching underfoot, the pair of you pushed out to the getaway vehicle-- a car that looked like a rusted 1970s sedan-- loose shots being made behind you in case anyone tried to follow. Now, you were unsure if you trusted the building to stay up more than you trusted this shitty little car to get the three of you away in time but you bit the bullet and began to shovel yourself into the back with Sam-- who you think almost cried when you accidentally pushed near his bullet wound.
“Step on it, Victor.”
Sully didn’t need much more than that to kick the engine into gear. The exhaust sputtered something out of it, a cloud of black rising behind the car, then the tires began to squeak and you were launched into motion. One hand was on Sam’s chest to keep him from careening through the windscreen and the other was on the back of Sully’s chair to stabilise yourself.
“Did you bring any bandages or--”
“In the trunk, kiddo.”
You hummed and leant up over the backseat and, as you flailed your arm around in the back trying to reach the medical supplies, through the tiny rear window you could see the second level of the hotel sliding to the left and destroying the poor little convenience store next door. A shame; you’d gotten a lovely bottle of juice there just before the whole fiasco.
Sam’s groaning beside you made you snap your head around to look at him, a quiet “oh yeah” from you gearing him up perfectly for one his stupid comments. However, Sully turned a corner a little too vigorously and Sam had to bite his tongue to keep back a groan. Thank God.
“Don’t cry.” Your tone was mocking and you gave him a smart-assed half-smile as you unravelled the bandages. With more gentleness than either of you would care to admit, you lifted his arm slightly and, when Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth, your hand was light and comforting on his stomach. “Hold it there for me.” He hummed, nodding, and you then went about wrapping his wound up; you’d clean him up properly at the hotel but, for now, you had to make sure that nothing could happen to it— or him— on the way there.
Damn this country and it’s jagged roads; this car ride was going to be hellish.
--
Sully threw you the keys to your room-- the smallest of the three, which you were less than happy about-- and you fumbled with the lock for a few moments. “Sam! In here.” You gestured with your head towards the room, holding the door open with a foot while the other half of your body ushered him inside.
“I appreciate the sentiment but I just don’t think my performance would be--”
“Shut up.” As usual, your look was harsh but it made him smile anyway. “I’m gonna clean your arm up.”
He grimaced-- for fair reason. “Surely a medical professional would be better for this?”
You began to rummage through your tiny suitcase for anything that might help with the pain or the cleansing or… anything really. “I’m as close as you’re gonna get to a doctor in this forsaken country.” You could feel his exasperated stare on the back of your head. “You’ll be fine; I took a first aid course.” There was a pause. “Well, I half took it; couldn’t pay for the rest of the lessons.”
“That makes me feel great.” As you turned, your gaze met with his crooked, sarcastic smile.
“It can’t be any worse than a Shoreline mercenary pulling it out of you.”
He sat down on the edge of your bed and groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
At that, you finally laughed, crouching down beside him with a few tabs of low-strength painkillers-- it’s better than nothing, right?-- and a damp towel. He lifted his arm for you slightly as you unbandaged him, hoping that the bleeding would’ve subsided a little bit at least. It had, luckily, but it didn’t stop the wound from looking nasty; you hoped to never find out what a bullet felt like.
He winced when you began to clean up the blood, lightly dabbing the area with the towel. He should stay out of commission for a while now to recover but would he? Certainly not; he wouldn’t be the Sam you knew if he did. “You shouldn’t have taken the bullet, Sam.” You idly mentioned, aware that he was injured because of you, to which he made some sort of incredulous noise as if you were being ridiculous.
“That guy would’ve shot you in a far worse place than the arm.” He glanced down at you briefly, trying to gauge what you were feeling, but was simply met with you frowning as you folded the towel to a cleaner section. “Besides, I’ve got a reputation as a hero to upkeep.”
“I’ll hit you in the bad arm--”
“No, no! Don’t!”
A look was shared between you, quiet laughter surrounding you both, before you continued on cleaning his wound. There was a moment of silence, then you said, “Job’ll be less interesting if you have to take time off.”
He inhaled-- sharply. “Was that almost a compliment?” At his wide grin, you found yourself huffing out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m astounded, honestly. I didn’t know you had a kind bone in your body.”
“You say, as I tenderly clean your wound.”
He chuckled at that but said nothing more between winces of pain, the sting of you cleaning it now hurting less than the ache of the wound itself. The quiet was comfortable-- something that not many would’ve expected between the two of you-- and Sam leant slightly, unknowingly or not, closer. It seemed as though he was trying to watch you pat at his injury but you would rather do anything than move your gaze away from the task at hand to check, lest you lock eyes with him and he says something about it, lips tugged up at one corner.
You pursed your lips, deciding whether or not you were satisfied with your work, before leaning over the bed to grab the gauze and bandages. It wouldn’t be your problem to remove the bullet; Sam would have to go to a hospital for that-- you weren’t about to fuck up his arm with a pair of tweezers and a handful of determination. Instead, you were just going to pad it and bandage it a little, maybe offer to help him clean it again later if he was lucky.
Just as you lined up the gauze and began to carefully wrap the bandage around his arm, Sam moved somewhat and it forced you to stop, shooting him a look of both concern and confusion. He closed his eyes for a moment, during which you furrowed your brows, and when he opened them he said: “I’d do it again, you know?”
“What? Get shot?”
“For you, yeah. I’d do it again.”
You swallowed and simply continued to bandage him up. God knows how you were supposed to react. You didn’t know what he meant behind his words-- or at least you didn’t want to get any hopes up-- but you would be lying if you couldn’t hear your heart in your ears right now.
So, you laughed.
It was breathy-- through the nose-- and your brows raised at the same time but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “How much blood did you lose, Sam?”
“Don’t--” he sighed, cutting himself off in favour of rolling his eyes. “Look at me, (Name).” You refused to. Adamantly so. “Please.” There was a pause. Then, you decided that you’d bite the bullet and let your gaze drag from the ever-so-interesting task of bandaging to his face. For a moment, it seemed like he’d lost all ability to speak, mouth open like he was meant to be saying something. Instead, he blinked and rolled his lips inward; it seemed like he was trying to bite a bullet of his own. “I’m… tired of acting like I hate you just to-- to push back--” it appeared that Sam wasn’t as good with words as he always made out but you couldn’t blame him; he was on the verge of saying things you had only thought of-- a guilty daydream that happened on long car rides or a look thrown at him that had shown only a fraction of what you had been thinking about. “To push back whatever the fuck goes on in my mind when I look at you. It’s… ridiculous.”
At that, you laughed quietly, breaking away from his gaze to look down at your hands. When your eyes met his again, he seemed confused. Sam raised a brow, to which you gave a smile. “I didn’t know you were such a wordsmith, Sir Samuel.”
He groaned but that grin of his was unmistakable. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” Usually, such a phrase would be said with a bit of growl behind it-- some spite-- but this time it was almost adoring. That in itself made you smile up at him, creating a pause in which you seemed to just be studying his face. You took that moment to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, drawing him closer to you until you could--
“Hey, Sam? Do you have a spare lighter? I must’a--” The door opened, revealing Sully who had been hopelessly patting himself down until he laid eyes upon the scene before him. The pair of you scrambled apart, both still too used to acting like you despised each other to be seen within a metre of the other, but Sully had already seen. He had already had time to process. So, there came the expected “Oh ho ho ho!”, to which both you and Sam sighed and let your heads loll backwards. “You wait till I tell Nate about this! He owes me twenty bucks.”
With that, Sully left the room, a terrible grin on his face, already pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Silence fell over the two of you until Sam finally let his gaze drag back to you and you met him with the same amount of fatigue in your eyes. It was then that you both began to laugh.
“We’re never gonna hear the end of it, are we?”
He pshhh-ed. “No. Of course not.”
#mm a comeback to writing#i aim to write FOR people again to bring me some joy in this lockdown#uncharted#uncharted 4#well... after it#sam drake#samuel drake#sam drake x reader#samuel drake x reader#writing
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January 16, 2021: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)
I am a massive comic book nerd. Not unusual these days, to be fair. But I’m definitely up there, as far as my obsession with Marvel and DC go. And, yeah, I stick mostly to those two houses, and their various imprints.
Why do I bring this up? Well...remember this movie?
Kick-Ass was a pretty big deal when it came out in 2010, as it was a Marvel Comics movie that was completely unrelated to the relatively new Marvel Cinematic Universe. Based of a 2008 comic book written by Mark Millar and drawn by John Romita Jr., the film was directed by Matthew Vaughn, and featured a more realistic take on how real-world superheroes would actually work.
Vaughn and Millar by this point at least, were friends. Around 2012, they’re getting drunk at a pub together, and talking movies. The topic of spy movies come up, and how there hasn’t really been a good, non-parody, fun spy movie, and that there should be. And that was the bulk of their conversation.
Enter Dave Gibbons, a legendary comic book artist, whom you may know from drawing the comic book that was turned into this:
Oh yeah, he’s a big deal. Gibbons and Millar end up getting together to write a fun spy comic book based on this idea. Vaughn, meanwhile, is getting ready to direct X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to X-Men: First Class, which Vaughn directed. That’s a good movie, by the way, even if I have...issues...with the treatment of the X-Men in film. Maybe one day I’ll get into that, we’ll see what happens. Ask me about it if you’re curious.
Anyway, Millar goes to Vaughn with this script, and Vaughan looks at it and realizes that he needs to direct this movie before somebody else makes it. So he leaves Days of Future Past, and he signs on to...
I feel like it’s an obligation, as a comic book dude, to watch this film. I should also read the book, but I didn’t do that with Kick-Ass, so to hell with it! Let’s get this recap started! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Recap
Starting off with some Money for Nothing, and somewhere in the Middle East, 1997! We go into a stone temple, where some kind of mission is taking place. A surprise grenade causes the loss of one of the agents. The surviving agents are Merlin (Mark Strong), Lancelot AKA James Spencer (Jack Davenport), and Galahad, AKA Harry Hart (Colin Firth).
Hart, feeling guilty over the death of this agent, tells his wife, Michelle (Samantha Womack) and child Eggsy (yes, Eggsy) of his sacrifice, and gives Eggsy a medal.
From there, we jump forward 17 years, to Argentina where...Mark Hamill?
Holy shit, it’s Mark Hamill! Apparently, he’s playing Professor James Arnold, and being held hostage by a group of mysterious men. Just then, he’s rescued by Lancelot, showing up with some classic James Bond-style swagger and asking for a cup of sugar, sardonically.
He kicks the asses of these guys, but is SLICED IN HALF BY A MAN WITH SWORD LEGS WHAT THE FUCK????
I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was watching the best thing I’ve ever goddamn seen. And as if that weren’t enough, she’s working for Samuel L. “Motherfucker” Jackson, playing Richmond Valentine. I am...I am so pleased.
We go to the Kingsmen headquarters, where Lancelot is being mourned by the Kingmen and their leader MICHAEL CAINE, REALLY, HOLY SHIT
Ahem. Sorry, uh...the star-studded cast has basically caused me to have a minor aneurysm. Caine plays Arthur, the leader of the Kingsmen. Get it? I can dig it, I’m a sucker for a good Arthurian reference. Anyway, now that Lancelot’s dead, it’s time to find a new candidate. Apparently, the man that died 17 years ago was part of an “experiment” by Hart, which Arthur says has failed. Galahad calls Arthur a snob, and says that they need to evolve with the times. \
Speaking of that former candidate, how’s his son doing?
Not stellar, it seems. His mom is dating a very unsavory gentleman, and not really taking good care of her youngest daughter. Eggsy (Taron Egerton), on the other hand, is a carefree delinquent. After engaging in an entertaining backwards car chase with the police (it’s cool), he gets arrested. He refuses to give up his friends, and he instead asks for a phone call.He looks at the medallion around his neck, and remembers that he can use the number of the back to contact someone for help. He uses a specific code phrase, but it appears not to have worked. But then, Eggsy is turned loose with little more than a phone call. That’s when Eggsy meets Hart.
We find out that Eggsy has a high IQ and Olympic-level athletics, but has dropped out of the Marines, and has been arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. After being read out by Hart, Eggsy goes on an anger-filled diatribe about the differences in privilege between the two of them. Although it’s short, it’s a powerful speech.
But that speech is interrupted by the owner of the car that Eggsy stole the previous night, as well as his gang. They’re yearning for a fight with Eggsy, and they threaten Hart. He doesn’t take that well, as he shuts the doors and windoes to the pub. Time to teach a lesson.
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Yup, I’m giving this fight the posted video award. It might be short, but it’s also one of the best and coolest sequences I’ve ever seen in a spy movie. And OH, it’s giving me that gadget shit I was missing from the Bond movies.
After one of the most enjoyable fight sequences I’ve seen in a while, Eggsy’s understandably stunned. So is his stepfather Dean (Geoff Bell), the leader of the gang that Hart beat up in the pub. He’s not happy, and he beats Eggsy in their apartment, and that scene is...WHOOF. Much to their surprise, however, Hart’s left a device on Eggsy’s back. He threatens Dean through the device, and tells Eggsy to meet him at a tailor that he’d mentioned.
Once Eggsy escapes from Dean and the gang via nest parkour tricks, he makes his way to the tailor, where Hart officially brings him into the fold, giving him the opportunity to become a Kingsman. He exposits the history of the agency as a private group of spies, meant to protect the world while not bowing to the bureaucracy that plagues government-affiliated spy institutions.
We get to go to Kingsman Headquarters proper, and yeah...yeah, it’s cool. As compared to the other recruits, Eggsy’s pretty obviously out of place. This, of course, is part of the point, as Hart believes the Kingsmen could use someone with different life experiences and background. That would be the experiment mentioned earlier.
Eggsy’s competitors include Roxy (Sophie Cookson), who appears to actually be polite to him, unlike most of the potentials. They settle in for the night...but not for long. Their quarters fills with water, as the entirety of the Kingsmen head towards the showerheads and toilets for air. While they all succeed, Eggsy is the one who actually gets everyone out, by literally punching the window.
Unfortunately, for one of the candidates...it’s too late. These candidates could die in the hiring process. Rough.
Sadly, Mark Hamill also doesn’t quite make it, as Hart finds him, surprisingly freed from Valentine’s capture. As he’s questioned, Valentine is forced to kill him via Suicide Squad implant, and barely escaped from his men. Valentine and his henchwoman, Gazelle (Sofia Boutella) are trying to figure out who the Kingsmen are, to no avail at the moment.
Back with Merlin, who’s training the Kingsman candidates! They’re all told to get a puppy! Aw. Eggsy chooses J.B. a pug, under the mistaken impression that it’s a bulldog. And I’m not a pug person...but that puppy is cute as shit.
Time marches on, and the Kingsmen continue their training. Eggsy’s colleagues continue to discriminate against him, especially Charlie (Edward Holcroft). Hart, who was knocked out by the explosion, eventually wakes up. Valentine goes around to political leaders and proposes his plan to “save the world,” whatever that’s about to mean. Apparently, that includes giving the King of Sweden a surgical implant of some kind. Huh.
This, of course includes some, uh...conflict with Gazelle.
Awesome.
Eggsy’s in the final 6! As Hart congratulates him over this, we finally get some exposition on Richmond Valentine’s plan. See, that implant is the Suicide Squad bomb that killed Hamill, and Gazelle also has one. Additionally, he’s released a plan to the world that will provide free internet and phone data...forever. Not ominous at all, that.
After a cool skydiving training sequence, only three candidates are left. Hart, meanwhile, poses as a wealthy philanthropist, donating to Valentine’s cause. As a result, he’s treated to an extravagant dinner...of McDonald’s. Yes, it is the best product placement I’ve seen in a while, in case you were wondering. That reveal was hilarious.
Anyway, their conversation turns from talking about climate change studies and concerns, to their opinion of James Bond movies, in a lovely little piece of meta flavor. At this point, they would appear to understand each other’s role in the play, as it were. Forgot to mention, Valentine’s been kidnapping anyone who disagrees with his goals, while also distributing his free internet cards. So, there’s that. But he’s also trying to figure out what exactly the “Kingsmen” are. Speaking of...
Our three remaining Kingsman candidates are assigned a mission to seduce a young dignitary. However, all three of them make a mistake, and allow themselves to get drugged at a party, by someone wanting to know who Hart and Kingsmen are. When Eggsy wakes up, he’s been strapped to train tracks. Uh oh.
Despite an oncoming train, Eggsy doesn’t give the man any formation. Which, of course, was the point. It’s Hart, helping to give the Kingsman candidates a little loyalty test, which both Eggsy and Roxy pass with flying colors. But Charlie...Charlie’s a coward who immediately gives everything up, including Arthur himself.
Eggsy gets to spend 24 hours with Hart, before being thrown headfirst into a mission. Hart explains that being a Kingsman means being a gentleman, which Eggsy isn’t. Hart, of course, plans to fix that.
They head to the tailor, and check out some spy gadgets. And much to their surprise, Valentine is also there, under the guise of getting a suit. Hart takes the opportunity to recommend a hatter, who gives him a top hat with built in listening devices. I love it.
Eggsy, meanwhile, speaks with Arthur at Kingsman HQ. He’s commanded to perform one final test: kill his pug, J.B. Which...yeah, damn, that sucks. He doesn’t do it, understandably. Unfortunately...Roxy does kill her dog. She succeeds...and Eggsy’s kicked out of the Kingsman candidacy. Which feels like a bullshit play, if I’m honest.
Eggsy steals Arthur’s car, then goes back home. As he’s about to confront his stepfather, Hart brings back the car via remote access, then explains to Eggsy that the gun was filled with blanks, and that Eggsy ended up giving up his shot. He also reveals that the first candidate to die...didn’t actually die! It’s been a ruse all along, meant to test the candidates under the strictest of conditions. Which sucks, obviously, because Eggsy’s out of the program.
And at that point, Valentine says something of note, revealing that he plans to go to a hate church in Kentucky to begin his master plan. Hart heads there, and tells Eggsy to stay put.
We get treated to just...just the loveliest of sermons. Disgusting. But then...
...that’s the point, isn’t it?
Because Valentine uses the SIM cards to create a signal that drives the parishioners crazy. Hart’s also in the church, however, and he also starts going crazy. Which leaves the question: what happens when a highly trained spy goes up against untrained civilians, has a bunch of gadgets...and has absolutely no restraint whatsoever?
A MASSACRE, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And most surprisingly, it’s a massacre that we actually SEE. Hart basically kills almost EVERYBODY in the church. I’ll put the video up, but...y’know, be warned here. It ain’t pretty.
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Hart comes to, and realizes exactly what he’s done. He leaves, only to be confronted by Valentine and his men. The Bond metaphor finally comes full-circle, explained directly by Valentine. But instead of explaining his whole plan and devising some complicated way to kill Hart that he’ll inevitably escape from...
He just shoots Hart in the head. Holy shit. And this is while Merlin, Arthur, and yes, Eggsy watch on through Hart’s home feed. Looks like a new Kingsman is needed.
Arthur tells Merlin to assemble the Kingsmen. But Eggsy...Eggsy has other plans. Thinking on Hart’s words about wanting to do something good with his life. He goes to Arthur to talk to him about Hart’s death. Arthur invites him in for brandy. And that’s...when my mind exploded.
HE’S FUCKING IN ON IT?!? Michael Caine, NOOOO! Turns out that Valentine’s convinced Arthur of his true plan: a culling. He believes that the Earth’s temperature because there’s simply too much humanity, like a body trying to kill a virus. And so...he’s going to make the virus exterminate itself. And that argument’s enough to win Caine over.
Turns out that the implant is meant to protect those individuals against a neurological signal emitted by the SIM cards, the same one that went off in the church. Arthur, realizing that Eggsy understands exactly what’s going on, poisons him, then asks if he would like to join them. Eggsy refuses...and Arthur sets off the remote poison to kill him.
But NOPE! EGGSY SWITCHED THE FUCKIN’ GLASSES! I love this movie. Arthur dies, and Eggsy uses the opportunity to dig the implant from his neck. He takes that and Arthur’s phone to Merlin and Lancelot, who realize that they can’t trust anyone at this point. And so, the three of them - yes, the three of them - go to stop Valentine.
And, yeah...I can dig it. OH HOW I CAN DIG it.
Roxy goes up in an experimental vehicle to bring down the satellite, Merlin is flying the plane, and Eggsy...Eggsy’s the one going in disguised as Arthur, in order to infiltrate the mountain lair of Valentine. Here, he and the other beneficiaries wait it out, while the world literally tears itself apart. Now wearing a bespoke suit and playing the role of a gentleman, Eggsy enters the lion’s den.
But as expected, it’s time to hit some snags. Roxy waits juuuuuust a little too long, and one of the balloons in her craft pops. As for Eggsy, he meets an old “friend” of his in the form of Charlie, who’s now working for Valentine.
The missile’s fired just in time, as Charlie’s taken out and Eggsy runs for the plane. AWESOME climax here as Eggsy escapes. I mean it; it is VERY cool. They succeed JUST in time, and the satellite is destroyed. However, Valentine’s still managed to partially start the process, and they can’t do anything about that.
Eggsy’s gotta go BACK in, before Valentine gets another satellite to trigger the signal worldwide. Now armed with Hart’s AWESOME umbrella, he makes his way there under heavy gunshot. They’re also teaming up against Merlin in the plane, so he’s not doing great. And that when Eggsy has the idea...to turn the implants on. ALL of them.
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It’s amazing. Violence in fireworks. So, it’s too bad that it doesn’t stop the signal. It works, and people start to tear each other apart all across the world. But only for was long as Valentine has his hands on the desk. Eggsy manages to stop that by laying down some suppressive fire.
That provokes a response.
..This movie is, for lack of a better term, fucking rad.
Gazelle and Eggsy have an awesome fight, worthy of any James Bond movie, seriously. I really want to give it the video post honor, but I’ve done that too much already. For god’s sake, I literally JUST did that.
Gazelle dies (it’s kinda goofy how she dies, if I’m honest), and Eggsy kills Valentine with her prosthetic leg. It’s over, as the signal ends, and Eggsy even gets the girl. Not Roxy, the Princess of Sweden. Not going into it, but it’s funny.
And that’s Kingsman: The Secret Service! Honestly, I gotta say, that was a rad-as-shit movie, and...
Ooh, a mid-credits scene! Eggsy goes back home, to the pub, where his stepfather and mom are hanging out with the gang. And let’s just say...Dean’s gonna get a little comeuppance. Manners, after all, maketh man.
OK, THAT’S Kingsman: The Secret Service! And that, again, was pretty rad. See you in the Epilogue in a few!
#kingsman the secret service#kingsman#kingsman tss#kingsman: the secret service#kingsman: tss#matthew vaughn#mark millar#dave gibbons#taron edgerton#eggsy#eggsy unwin#colin firth#harry hart#galahad#michael caine#arthur#chester king#samuel l jackson#richmond valentine#mark strong#merlin#sofia boutella#gazelle#365 movie challenge#365 movies 365 days#365 Days 365 Movies#365 movies a year#user365#action january
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The Prince and the Pauper (Who Drives an Uber) Ch. 1
Part One | Two | Three | Four
Billy pulled up alongside the line of parked cars outside the embassy to wait for his Uber fare, ignoring the honks, and clicking through his playlists for the one Max had rated “least offensive”. He frowned into his glove compartment at the assorted air fresheners, and grabbed a cold bottle of water, sticking it in the cup holder for the back seats.
He checked his shirt—probably he was picking up a janitor, but just his luck some prime minister’s car blew a tire, and there he’d be with some leader of a country and secret service in his car, covered with dried beans and guac like he’d killed a burrito with a spear and eaten its corpse with both hands, roaring and beating his chest—his shirt was clean, and he took a steadying breath.
While he was yanking his earring out and dropping it in the cup holder, his fare ducked inside behind him. “Hey,” Billy said, over the honking of the surrounding—furious—drivers, “You’re my fare? Mind if I get your full name?”
Something clonked into the door opposite his fare, and rattled around on the floor, and the man—younger than Billy, Billy was fairly sure—flopped sideways across the seats with a groan. Then he started snickering. “You sure you want all of it? You got something to write it down?”
Billy glared over his shoulder. “Are you Steve, my fare... what the hell are you wearing?!”
“You don’t like my sash?” his presumed fare laughed, lying across Billy’s back seats in some kind of extremely shiny white outfit, with medals, and a cross on a chain. “They said it matched my eyes.”
“What the hell are you…” Billy trailed off again. “Is that a sword? Is that a tiara on my floor?! Why in the fuck—”
“It’s a coronet,” the actual Disney Prince in his back seat corrected him, putting his probably very expensive loafers on the window as he laid back, closing his eyes.
“Get your goddamn feet off my window,” Billy hissed. “You are my fare, right? You’re not just some...cosplaying menace. Or is cosplay Cinderella about to climb in?” he squinted suspiciously at the embassy, and the irritating pile of shiny clothes in the back laughed again.
“I’m Stephen of Blois,” he said, and Billy’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “I’m Grand Cross of the Order of the House of Orange.”
“You’re the right person— the fuck does that even mean,” Billy growled, pulling forward into traffic amidst an even louder cacophony of honks, like a herd of geese.
‘Stephen’ pointed at one of the medals. “Royal Air Squadron Commander,” he offered, and Billy contemplated hitting the brakes so hard his passenger fell off the seat.
“Stop fucking with me. Where the hell are we going,” he snarled, and all he got was a sigh.
“Anywhere, I guess. Where do people go when they’re fleeing the scene of a crime?” He sat up and leaned forward between the seats, and Billy got a noseful of expensive soap, aftershave, and breath against his ear. His very-much-gay dick woke up, and he cursed it, gritting his teeth.
“You’re saying you’re a fugitive? What’d you do, steal that ensemble from Elvis?” he shot back, and Steve snorted.
“No, I, uh. I just. I’m escaping a wedding.”
“Oh, shit,” Billy stared into the rearview mirror, and almost hit the car in front. “You—you what, you just left somebody standing at the altar?! That’s—what the shit—”
“No!” Steve yelped, then let his forehead fall against the seat behind Billy’s head, and groaned. “I didn’t—she just—I thought she, y’know, I didn’t think she wanted to wanted to, but we’re friends? And then she started yelling at me about her friend Barb, and—”
“Speak English,” Billy suggested, and Steve kicked the back of his seat.
“I thought we both knew we were getting married, and we’d just—be friends, you know, she’d do what...what she was going to do, and I’d do my thing, and we’d be married, succession secured, you know, so nobody would care—”
“Holy shit, you really are. Somebody,” Billy sputtered, hunching his shoulders a little as he registered he probably would not get a five-star rating for shouting at royalty. “Some tourist told me she was in town for ‘the wedding’ the other day. Thought she just thought everybody knew her niece, or something.”
“It’s been arranged since we were six!” Steve moaned, dropping back to lie across the seats again. He waved at the ceiling. “They got the cathedral and everything! She’s in the dress! And all of a sudden she starts crying ‘bullshit, bullshit’ that she can’t marry, because Barb.”
“Who the hell is Barb,” Billy asked woodenly, his eyes wide as he turned onto a side street. “Wait, are you supposed to have a bodyguard?!”
“So I said okay, I’d call it off, if she was—she was gonna set the whole thing on fire, I think. It’ll be super romantic in the news,” he said, sounding wistful. “She’ll probably forget to change out of her wedding dress and go propose to her librarian right in front of everybody. Just...stomp in in her twenty-four foot train and propose over the Information desk.” He sighed.
“Where the hell am I supposed to be driving,” Billy whispered, staring at the man in the back seat.
“I want drive-through,” whined Stephen of Blois, dropping his chin on the seat behind Billy’s shoulder. “I heard you can get anything at a drivethrough in America.”
“Not really,” Billy sighed, glancing at the pleading brown eyes in his rearview mirror. “I mean. Burgers. Tacos. Ice cream.”
“Ice cream,” breathed the royal in his backseat. “I want ice cream. I deserve ice cream.”
“It’s not very good ice cream,” Billy told him. “I mean. You might want a...restaurant, or something.”
“Ice cream!” Stephen said, throwing his hand forward like he was leading a charge, and Billy headed for the Dairy Queen.
“What do I even call you?” Billy asked, making an illegal u-turn as his passenger whooped. “Stephen?”
“Ugh, no. Steve is fine,” said Steve, pressing his face against the side window, kicking his coronet, and tossing it into the front passenger seat. It glittered as it went by.
“Put your damn seatbelt on,” Billy choked, watching the thing roll around, diamonds gleaming.
Steve grinned over, and did not.
“Where you actually going?” Billy asked, once they were in line. “Back to your hotel?”
“God, no, everybody’s going to yell at me,” Steve said, eyes narrowed at the menu. “May I...eat in your car?”
“Don’t order food,” Billy made a face. “The ice cream’s okay, but the food is garbage.”
“Hmm,” Steve nodded, but ordered like five things, prompting Billy for his order, and then flirted with the people at the window, who stared open-mouthed.
“I think everybody else knows who you are,” Billy said, finally, as they sat in the parking lot, and his royal passenger climbed out to sit in the front.
Steve chucked the coronet out of his seat again, over his shoulder into the back, and unwrapped everything to make happy humming noises into a banana split. “Nope,” he said, around a whole scoop of ice cream with pineapple syrup. It dripped on his fancy jacket, and he swallowed, clearing his throat. “M’nobody. Where else can we go?”
“...I don’t know,” Billy ate his Blizzard with a spoon, watching the leader of some country somewhere trying to tie a knot, with his tongue, in the stem of the cherry off the sundae he’d bought at Dairy Queen.
After watching his fare try to eat a chocolate-dipped cone, and discover the inherent trap as the melted ice cream in the chocolate shell escaped through a crack and jizzed all over his fingers and shiny gold medals, Billy groaned into his hands. He leaned over and yoinked the cone out of Steve’s hand as he stared in betrayal at the ice cream running down his elbow.
Billy stuffed the ice cream grenade in the plastic bag their food had come in, and then started dabbing Steve off with a handful of napkins.
“My ice cream cone,” Steve whispered, his expression shifting from betrayal to heartbreak. “What have you done.”
“Can’t believe you rule a country,” Billy growled back. “I disarmed your goddamn dipped cone bomb before it ruined your fucking...Armani or whatever. Thank me.”
“I was eating that,” Steve muttered, but he started to grin as Billy leaned in, scrubbing down his wrist and neck. Steve started laughing, like Billy was the one being an idiot, and Billy felt himself flush as he folded the sticky napkin over and wiped ice cream off Steve’s jaw, and Steve smiled, his eyes dark and warm in the light from the streetlamps. His breath was warm on Billy’s fingers, and he smelled like chocolate.
Billy wanted to lick it off his lips. He jerked back and put both hands on the steering wheel, where he could keep an eye on them. Don’t touch him again, he told himself sternly, and took a few slow breaths, telling himself to stop noticing the moles down Steve’s neck, and the texture of the hair on his arm in Billy’s hand.
Billy took another bite of Blizzard, and thought fixedly about the condensation on the cold cup dripping through his fingers, and the roof of his mouth going numb.
“Hey,” Steve muttered, fiddling with his phone, his plastic spoon sticking out the side of his mouth. “Hey, Billy. I’ve got a bad idea. Let’s do something. While I have, you know, uh, no security. Really bad idea.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go bowling.”
“What?!” Billy said, trying to breathe an oreo, and choked.
Steve patted him on the back, shoving his phone in Billy’s face with a picture of a neon sign reading Leatherneck Lanes. “Come on,” he leaned in, “—I just got stood up at the altar. Take me bowling?”
“Do you even know how to bowl?” Billy asked, once his lungs had some air in them.
“It says they rent shoes, and sell wings,” said Steve, sounding perplexed. He frowned over, licking his lips, so they were shiny. “What are the wings for?”
Billy bit his lips together, on the clock, yet wanting to lean in and push his fare back against the seat, and lick into his mouth—and also, on top of it all, trying to think up a believable lie about buffalo wings. He stared into the prince’s intent brown eyes. “...they’re not real wings,” he confessed, unable to pull his mind off kissing.
“I know they’re not real wings,” Steve rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Buffaloes don’t have wings. Are they toy wings? Do you...do you buy accessories for your toy buffalo? It says they have a buffalo ranch.”
Billy stared at the royalty in his car, mumbling about buffalo-themed bowling alleys, and wondered how anyone could stand him up at the altar.
Driving through for ice cream already had people snapping Steve’s photo, so for the bowling alley, Billy rummaged around in his bag and threw his sweatshirt at the prince’s head. “Change up, Charming,” he said, “—or we’ll summon up the media.”
“Oh, neat!” Steve said, excited about the sweatshirt, and trying to spread it across the dash. “Is this a hoodie? It is! Look, it has a little hood! And a front pocket, like a kangaroo!”
“Just put it on before I shove it in your mouth,” Billy hissed, his blood pounding in his ears as Steve stripped down, and the Royal Abs were exposed under the light of streetlamps. The rain on his windshield cast shadows of water trickling down Steve’s unbuttoned shirt and the skin of his flexing torso as he squirmed out of the stiff uniform-style jacket. He leaned back in the seat, his shirt sliding up with the jacket to show his chest hair and the flex of his shoulderblades, and then yanked it back down, pushing up his sleeves. It was still open all down the front.
“Let me finish my ice cream,” Steve mumbled. “Before I get it on your hoodie.”
Billy stared straight ahead as Steve made MNAH MNEEEEH noises licking the underside of the banana split container, and then began licking ice cream off himself from elbow to thumb. “Put the damn sweatshirt on,” Billy growled, both hands clenched on the steering wheel, and Steve laughed.
“Don’t want to get it all sticky,” he said, and Billy glared over to meet sparkling brown eyes and a wide smile.
He grabbed the hoodie and shoved it in his prince’s face, which was how he ended up with his arms around royalty, helping the prince of, it sounded like, several countries aim his balls.
And Billy couldn’t stop giggling softly about the buffalos.
“They should have toy buffalos,” Steve insisted occasionally, out of the blue, glancing from Billy’s grin to the bar. “They should! I want one!”
“Yeah, sure, Your Highness,” Billy agreed, nodding with his eyes wide.
“Hey,” said Steve, watching his gutter ball pass the pins. “I have, ah, I have another one. Bad idea. Probably it’s stupid.”
“Let’s hear it,” said Billy, licking his lips, and rubbing his hands on his pants, because fucking Prince Steve was warm and toned in Billy’s sweatshirt, and kept leaning into his space. “What’s your bad idea?”
Steve watched Billy’s mouth, grinning like an asshole, and Billy cleared his throat, stepping back. Steve stepped close again, close enough for Billy to feel his body heat. “Let’s get a motel,” he whispered, biting his lips in a tense smile. “Tonight.”
“Holy shit,” Billy staggered backward into the score calculator, staring at Steve’s face.
He looked intent, but didn’t close the distance. Max is going to murder me, Billy thought, licking his lips again. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” Steve grinned, and opened his mouth—probably to say something else irritating—and Billy held up a hand. “Wait, hold up. I gotta call my little sister.”
“You have a little sister?” Steve’s face softened, and Billy knew he was fucked.
“Yeah, and I gotta let her know I’m not drunk in a ditch somewhere,” Billy muttered, turning away so he couldn’t see Prince Goddamn Charming, looking ridiculous in styled hair and casual clothes, his whole face an enthusiastic question mark about Billy’s only family.
Max answered the phone with “I made tuna. You want some?”
“No, uh, I—” Billy turned to watch Steve lining himself up to throw again. His rented bowling shoes squeaked loudly against the floor, and the lights shone off his hair, rumpled where he’d yanked at his crown.
He narrowed his eyes at other bowlers, glancing around and scooting his feet with an intent expression. The peal of raucous music from a pinball machine startled him, and he hopped sideways on one foot, but then firmed his jaw, rolled his shoulders, and used his Royal Grace to throw the carefully selected Royal Bowling Ball straight into the Royal Gutter.
“What?” Max bit out.
Billy swung to face the other way, smiling helplessly. “I, uh. I’ll be late.”
“Oh,” she said, and he heard a whoop from behind him, and turned around. A kid was showing Billy’s fugitive prince how to bowl, and it looked more like they were practising poses for the Power Rangers. “Billy?” came Max’s voice. “Uh. A-are you in a bar?”
“No!” he told her, grabbing the phone with both hands. “No, no, it’s—I mean, yeah, there’s a bar in here, but we’re bowling. I, uh, the um, my fare wanted to go bowling. And he doesn’t know how to bowl. I’m���I’m just showing him how to bowl.”
“Oh,” she said, and he hoped she was distracted, and not trying to stare through the phone as hard as he was.
“We ordered some hot wings,” he reported. “And he wants to try root beer. He’s not from—they don’t have root beer. There. Where he’s from. I’m on the clock, Max.”
“Okay,” she said, and he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Max, he is hot as hell, I am—I think I’m like 30% gayer since he got in my car—”
She laughed, but didn’t say anything.
“He’s a Disney character,” Billy hissed. “It’s okay, I-I swear. This isn’t—I’m not—I’m not doing ...dangerous dumb shit, I promise. I’m not fucking up. I—I am gonna have the dumbest story to tell you, but I gotta go.”
“You left sunscreen in your pocket in the wash, asshole,” she said, rallying. “Dumber than that?”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry!” Billy laughed. “I owe you one.”
“Yeah you do,” she muttered, and hung up.
Billy wandered back to Steve, still frowning down at his phone, and Steve threw an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. Billy inhaled cologne that probably cost as much as his rent.
“Unexpected obligations?” Steve asked, smiling.
He looked a little downcast, and Billy wondered what to say— his and Max’s family history was hardly first date material. With a prince. A prince who was his Uber fare, he reminded himself, and not his date, not really. The reminder was bracing, like stepping out into a cold wind. Billy’s had been the first car that pulled up, and he’d blushed and stared, and this prince had a few hours to kill. What am I doing, Billy wondered. “I like to call and check in.”
“How old is she?” Steve asked. “Do you need to get back?”
“Uh,” Billy said, grimacing, and remembered Max had rented a movie they needed to watch, and he had homework for three classes.
“I apologize,” his prince said, stepping away. “Of course you have your own schedule. Thank you for your patience with me. Where would it be convenient to drop me off?”
“Shit, no,” Billy followed him like a moth, ready to smack himself to death against a shining light. “I’d be working all night anyway.” He picked out a bowling ball. “You haven’t even tried root beer. I got all night.”
“You’ll stay?” Steve’s polite smile broadened into a real grin, and his cheeks flushed. Billy wanted to bite them. “...thank you.”
Billy tried, honestly, to bowl badly, and even things out, but His Highness was unparalleled at somehow missing all the pins even when he managed to keep it in the lane. Towards the end of the game, Billy was actually trying to help him bowl —instead of pretending in order to wrap both arms around him—and Steve kept leaning back to try and see his face and almost knocking them over, so they were laughing so hard they nearly fell.
Steve swiveled in his arms to face him, and Billy tried to pay attention as the right royal arms slid around his neck, the warm weight of a muscled body leaned against him, padded by Billy’s sweatshirt over starched groom trousers, and over it all Steve was grinning, pink-cheeked and a little smug. “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” he whispered.
Billy swallowed as his mouth started overproducing saliva, realizing he was about to get his face fucked in a bowling alley during work hours—by a man disappointed by the lack of winged buffalo plushies available for purchase.
“Yeah,” Billy whispered. “Yeah, okay.” He checked his back pocket for a condom, yanking Steve along behind him to the bathrooms, and then hauled him in the empty stall, and pinned him to the door, already breathing a little heavily in anticipation.
“Whoa,” Steve laughed again, watching Billy lick his lips. “Wow. Uh, I just— mmph.” He opened his mouth for Billy’s, humming as he ran his hands down Billy’s back, and yanked him even closer with one hand on each of Billy’s ass cheeks. “Damn,” he whispered, pulling back, and Billy leaned in again, knowing men that dragged him into bathrooms didn’t tend to be patient, but also that Steve still tasted like chocolate and ice cream, and he kept making little happy noises.
“Sorry,” Billy muttered, bringing his hand up to turn Steve’s head to just the right angle, and counting down fifteen seconds in his head to keep kissing the man before he had to pull back and get down to business. He could feel Steve’s smile bunched under his hand, and he couldn’t not kiss that too, mumbling ‘Sorry, sorry,’ again as Steve laughed.
“Just—jussec,” Steve grabbed Billy’s face with both hands and held him off, grinning. “Just—wait for a moment. You won’t get in trouble? Coming away with me?”
Billy snorted. “Maybe with Max.” At Steve’s narrowed eyes, he shook his head. “My sister. And no. Nah, it’s just—I get paid for jobs I take. I don’t have hours. I logged off.”
“So you were working tonight, and now you aren’t,” Steve said, running his thumb up Billy’s cheek, and Billy licked out and grabbed it in his mouth.
“Mmn,” he grunted back, sucking hard, and Steve’s head thudded against the door as he made a weird startled snorfling noise.
“Billy,” Steve whispered, yanking his hand back—his thumb scraped along Billy’s teeth, and Billy winced, wiping his mouth. “Billy, listen—Billy.” He grabbed Billy by the shoulders of his jacket and held him at arm’s length. “Stop.”
“Shit,” Billy said, realizing he’d screwed up, as always. “Jesus, you actually want to talk. Okay. Shit.” His dick didn’t even care, still pounding with all the blood in his body as Billy avoided looking at Steve’s face. Billy pushed back to sit on the toilet. “Sorry. Sorry, shoot, go ahead.”
“...Billy,” Steve repeated, stepping close again, and Billy nodded, his peripheral vision taking in the misspelled graffiti and lack of toilet paper in the grotty bathroom where he’d hauled a prince. He’s gonna back out, Billy told himself, and took a slow breath. “Billy?”
Billy smirked up, wishing he hadn’t promised Max he wouldn’t drink. “Not much like your—your fucking— consort, am I. Say your piece, your majesty.”
The sweatshirt hood and Billy’s fingers had messed up Steve’s hair, and he pushed it away from his frowning brown eyes. “I just...I’m paying you for the drive here, right, but you weren’t working for fun, can you afford to—”
Did he notice I ordered the cheapest food, Billy wondered, the humiliation sinking deeper in his stomach like he’d swallowed one of the bowling balls. “It’s fine, I’ll work more next week—”
“No,” Steve shook his head, digging his wallet out of his bag.
“The hell do you think is going on here?” Billy asked, watching. “Are—are you trying to pay me for sex?”
“No!” Steve hissed, glaring over. “No, I’m just—look, let me give you some money. Now. Let me pay you like my driver. Then I won’t—you won’t have to think about. Anything.”
“Anything like what,” Billy asked slowly, watching a prince leaf through the wad of cash in his fancy leather wallet, and wondering what he’d been planning with so many bills. They were probably all ones, he realized. For having a good time around town, until he decided he liked the look of his Uber driver.
“Let me just—” Steve groaned, biting his lip, and tucking his wallet away. “You’re gonna have my fare to the hotel, and—if you need the money, I’ll keep—just take it,” he pushed a stack of bills at Billy, who glanced down at it, then back up.
The top bill was a hundred. “What the fuck,” Billy said.
Prince Steve laughed, trying to fix his hair by feel, and avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Do—d’you still want a blowjob?”
“What the fuck,” Billy said once more, with feeling.
“I’m done talking,” Steve said, shrugging. “If you—I’m sorry this is awkward, I don’t know what to—”
“You made it awkward,” Billy glared down at the handful of cash, then back up at Steve. “Why the hell are you handing me all this money?!”
“See, now you can get pissed at me,” Steve grinned, his eyes flicking up to Billy’s expression, then down and away. “Don’t have to wonder whether I’ll pay up, now. You probably have rent.”
“I have rent,” Billy repeated, waiting for it to make sense. “I still don’t get it.”
“I hired you,” Steve groaned, his back thudding against the door, and sliding down it to sit on the ground as it creaked alarmingly. “I can’t—I hired you and then hit on you, this was such a bad idea—”
“Guess I’m just too sexy for your own good,” Billy told him, running his tongue around his teeth, and Steve stared at the motion of his tongue.
“God, you are,” he growled, folding his arms over his head. “Can we just—can we just start over? You’ve got enough money you don’t need to work tonight, and I’m—you just saw me bowling.”
“...you think I’m gonna act different if I need your money,” Billy finally put it together, and sighed.
“I don’t know!” Steve flailed a hand, smacking it into the side of the stall. “Maybe you’ve wanted to smack me this whole time, and you’re afraid I won’t pay my cab fare! Oh,” he stopped short, and whipped out his phone. “Mark me paid, and I’ll leave a rave review, then you don’t have to worry about that—”
Billy pulled his phone out slowly, considering. “So this isn’t you paying me for sex.”
“Hell no, why would you be a sex worker in California,” Steve mumbled, flicking the wrong app, opening the weather report, and mumbling in a language Billy didn’t know as he fumbled back to the Uber app. “Ugh. You wouldn’t even have a union, probably—”
The toilet creaked as Billy started laughing. “A union? Uber drivers don’t even have a union—”
“That’s terrible,” Steve looked up, frowning. “Do you get benefits?”
“What?!” Billy snickered harder, the inside of his skull feeling less sandpapery against his brain as he started to accept that the prince he’d hauled into the bathroom was honestly just trying to be a responsible date. And sucking at it. “I think you’re thinking way too hard about this.”
“I bet the owner would take my call,” Steve said thoughtfully. “People usually do. Maybe I could get some traction here with my unionization programs.”
“...you’re some kind of...union activist,” Billy asked, weirdly charmed.
“My family took the French Revolution very seriously,” Steve mumbled, finally getting the Uber app open.
“Anyway, this is way too much money,” Billy flapped it at him. “Way too much money. I could take, like, a week off.”
“So do it,” Steve shrugged, glancing up. “Watch something dumb with your sister. Buy yourself some—” he flapped his hand, “—I don’t know. I’d be paying my driver a lot more than Uber fare, y’know.”
“But he’s probably got...training. Bodyguarding, or—or something,” Billy whispered, staring at the fanned-out bills. Now he took the time to count it up, it was more than a week’s worth. More than a month, taking fares. He thought wildly of having money in the bank, after paying rent. Not having to wonder whether they’d be homeless if his car broke down and he couldn’t work. “This—this is too much, Steve. This is a shit-ton of money, I can’t—I can’t take this.”
“Hey, hey,” Steve got up to kneel in front of him, pressing Billy’s fingers around the money. “It’s yours. One-time gift, okay? I’ll be less generous next time, I promise. Pretend it came from your boss, okay? Class-action lawsuit for not having a union.”
“You’re so fucking strange,” Billy whispered, but allowed Steve to clasp his fingers closed on the cash.
“Now if I piss you off you can throw a drink on me,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss him again, and Billy was hard for this total freak, but he started sniggering again into Steve’s mouth.
“You were really looking for flying buffalo toys,” he whispered, and Steve snorted, shoving him into the wall.
“Shut up. They said buffalo wings, they should deliver. You want a blow job or not?”
“I get one?” Billy asked, laughing harder—not that it was funny, just he hadn’t expected to end up on a public toilet, clutching more money than he’d seen in cash outside of movies, with an actual prince kneeling, horny, at his feet. “Am I in some kinda gay Hallmark movie?”
“I might be bad at it,” Steve told him, grabbing Billy’s belt, and Billy yelped and squirmed to get his wallet out and stuff the money in, having visions of it scattered across the floor as he threw it like confetti in the throes of orgasm. And in my life, everything goes down the toilet, he thought, but leaned to lick into Steve’s mouth.
“Mmph,” Steve mumbled, sliding his fingers into Billy’s hair, and Billy leaned into it, letting Steve tug at his belt, and helping him pull it free. Billy fished out a condom, and Prince Steve, ready to give Billy Hargrove a blowjob on the floor of the public bathroom at a bowling alley, grabbed it, and yanked at the packet with his teeth.
He got it open—after just long enough that Billy was about to offer help—and pulled it out, eyes intent as he ducked lower and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, aiming the condom and unrolling it like he was in Mission Impossible.
He was bad at it, to the extent a hot guy doing his best at licking Billy’s cock could be bad, and Billy came in an embarrassingly short amount of time, kissing Steve’s head in an overabundance of fondness.
Part One | Two | Three | Four
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Ya Gorl’s Been Tip Tappin’ against the keyboard and makin’ magic with her fingies
“I used to think I was a troubled man, stumbling mistake to mistake, wondering what people's lives would be like without me. But now I've come to realize I'm not troubled, just hurt, and there's such a fine difference in that. Love and trouble used to look like cocaine and sugar, and I could hardly tell the difference between pain and gentleness. So I let neither guide my way in fear of choosing the wrong thing and breaking myself in ways I could never fix.” - Dan Castlestone
“I met my love as she wept in her sorrow, wondering why she couldn't find freedom. But it feels like, as I dance my fingers against the etches of her spine and kiss her gently where it hurts the most, our love is the freedom she's been craving. She's got scars on her heart, but look at her, sitting gentle and peaceful like a dove prophesizing great peace and love. I'd never seen someone so gentle, so beautiful, so lovely, until I met her sorrow filled and kind eyes.” - Mel Ackers
“I've always wanted to be somebody to someone, but it feels as if, I have finally become somebody to me.” - Fern Ackers
“She stood next to me in the garden as I sprouted, everybody else stood tall, but there I stood, bent in ways I didn't think could heal. But she didn't care. She stood there every day, giving me water and watching me grow, building me up with gentle kisses in the dark and nights spent tangled in each other's arms. And now here I stand, tall and loved, knowing that without Mel, without my beautiful children, I never would've learned how to be somebody to me.” - Fern Ackers
“I'm a love riddled fool, sipping on sorrowful poetry and sad songs in the dark, knowing I shall never be me, for I was born somebody else.” - Anderson Mafasa
“Some people call me crazy, but I prefer the term lucid in reality, for I crave fantasy much more than I enjoy the real things I can touch and feel.” - Anderson Mafasa
“There's no one but me in my mind, so how could I blame anybody but myself for the thoughts in my head?” - Anderson Mafasa
“It feels as if I have sunken deep into the recesses of myself, and there's no one but me to run to.” - Anderson Mafasa
“I've learned God can never tame the monsters he's made. He sets us loose in a hunting ground and when prey fell short we'd come to love the violence and the way blood felt on our hands. So we turned on each other and brought our stones down on those weaker than us, just for that high we got from power. I won't smile, but God damn brother, I'll show you my teeth.” - Adir Butcher
“I met evil in the heart of my hometown, sinister grin brewing with trouble, heart bared black on a leather jacket sleeve. I lost myself deep in the twisted and black spine of the underground, firing off bullets for the wrong reasons and losing pieces of myself each time they flew from the chamber. But as I sit here, honor beating in my chest, who I am flowing through my veins, I know I ain't never losing myself to trouble's smile once more.” - Adellia Rustfey
“He built hell on the streets of our home, but I'll be damned if we can't find heaven in ourselves.” - Adellia Rustfey
“I've brushed my fingers against the ever expanding pages of history, eyes dragging across kills immortalized in verse, wars written as beauty in prose and poetry, humanity's darkness called natural and inescapable. And I must wonder, as I stare history eye to eye if it's a warning we didn't heed or a monster we've created up of crimson etched poetry and verses glorified in blood.” - Achilles Arrowheart
“Asking "Why," to love is like looking up to the midnight sky and trying to count all the stars.” - Achilles Arrowheart
“I cannot live dancing under the shadows of ghosts.” - Achilles Arrowheart
“I was on my deathbed, six foot underneath a man I never was.” - Abramio Gold
“The way I see it, hate is a small plate, and you fill it with the little things that upset you, gorging em down and feeling full because you trick yourself into thinking it's a complete meal. But a few minutes later your heart begins to growl so you fill your plate with more hate and keep on doing it, again, and a fucking gain until all you can do is sit there at your hateful table, wondering why you're alone in a room full of your demons. We trick ourselves into thinking not everyone wants to sit at the table, so we never even give em the fucking chance. And I think that's sad, that we've tricked ourselves into thinking a life of hate is fulfilling.” - Abramio Gold
“I can say sorry for wot I've done, but dat doesn't change dat it 'appened. For some people, it just won't mattah dat I've changed, because when dey look into me eyes dey'll see da memories'a da cruelty in me. But a man don't change because 'e expects ta be forgiven. A man changes because he just can't fuckin' live wif da person he's been, so 'e kicks 'imself outta 'is 'ead and learns ta be somebody new past all 'is fuckin' pain.” - Lincoln Essex Twis
“I've got blood on me 'ands and ghosts in me blood.” - Lincoln Essex Twis
“No man wants ta go through redemption, for it's one'a da most torturous scars a soul can bare.” - Lincoln Essex Twis
“I used ta say I was a ghost loomin' over a grave dat weren't me own, but it feels as if, I spent me three days in me tomb, and all these people I love came around ta roll back da stone for me. And so, gentle, quiet and joyful I fall inta da arms'a all I love.” - Rosie Essex Twis
“The way I see it, and the way I'll always, see it, is that the man that fears change in the right direction has been walking in the wrong direction for too long, and has come to believe walking the wrong path is the only way he can go without resistance. So he sits in his comfort level, trying to force others to bend to his own fears.” - Pete Lockman
“I've always been a little wild, dancing barefoot in the garden and digging my nails into dirt and streams, falling in love with the way nature gently hums and shows her beauty. People say the world is hateful, but if you listen to the birds hum and you sing along to the gentle roar of the river, you'll come to realize the world never hates, only people, do.” - Lassie Lockman
“My father once told me that the strongest person of all is the one that embraces her identity and lets no one else narrate who they are. We all have our own stories and memories, and everyone's always trying to tell you how it is. But only you, know your story, and you're the only one who can tell it.” - Lassie Lockman
“She who changes based on every word spoken against her will never remain the same in the seconds that pass.” - Lassie Lockman
“I look to the sky, rays of light drifting through the dreary and lazy clouds. And I begin to wonder how God looks down on us. And as the sunlight caresses my cheek and brings warmth to my skin, I come to realize she speaks so gently, like a soft and quiet wind bringing the scent of love and forgiveness in it's wake.” - Lassie Lockman
“I was born under the shadow of bad men's deeds, looking to the sky for answers, praying to a silent God. But as I stood there, silence choking the goodness in me, I came to learn there's nowhere a sinning man can run from the madness and cruelty that comes on by to claim all who are troubled. And so I put another bullet in my chamber, firing off rage from a crimson revolver and killing under the shadow of cruel men's deeds.” - Navy Remington
“For as long as the sun has risen and fallen, trouble and violence have known man's heart, and so falling deep into the disease of murder and lies, I become one with my ancestors and succumb to the hum of spilling blood.” - Navy Remington
“I was just a girl looking for her peace, but now I place my finger against a sinning woman's trigger, looking down the scope of my rifle and knowing, it's not a wolf in my crosshairs. I always close my eyes the moment before a kill, convincing myself that it's just another deer, it's just another wolf, but I'm always haunted by the dead lying face down and crimson in the snow.” - Suzanna Hargroves
“I look to the stormy skies, wondering if my mother's eyes dance in those dark clouds, wondering if her tears drip down my cheek as another drop of rain splashes against my skin. Or am I just trying to see her everywhere I go so I never have to let her go?” - Suzanna Hargroves
“I stepped into that old mansion like a flickering and killing light drawing in the wicked moth, but as I walked out, I learned I had never been the flame, nor had Ickabod been the moth. I was human, and fragile, and Ickabod knew that, huh?” - Shamallo Green
“I was a white dove grenade hurtling toward darkness, but I was caught in the arms of cruelty and thrown back to the light where pieces of my shrapnel trouble broke through the skin of peace.” - Shamallo Green
“I'll never come to understand what life has in store for this old, blood spilling sinner, but I suppose all I can do is keep my head up high and pretend I've got a heart that's whole.” - Shamallo Green
“I ain't much more than a name in a book, these days, waitin' ta be cut down with ink scrawled 'cross my damn spine.” - Andraak Flint
“My full moon faded ta black and shadow, and God damn, I ain't much but a haunted man fallin' through the echoes of his snarl.” - Andraak Flint
“There ain't enough words on my tongue ta describe the love I lost. But 'er name tastes bitter on this guilty tongue. Carmellia was everythin' I never knew I needed, and when she danced 'er fingers 'cross my bare and scarred chest and told me I was er's, I could'a sworn I was gon' die a better man than I was born.” - Andraak Flint
“I look ta a grave too young, and ta me, it still feels like that soil was freshly dug.” - Andraak Flint
“I look to a cloudy sky and in the drops'a rain that splash on my eye I see the tears'a the holy pourin' down on the man peace and mercy forgot.” - Andraak Flint
“My life fell apart before I ever had a chance to live it.” - Arco Dogson
“It's always strange, losing yourself. Because when you find yourself again, he almost feels unfamiliar. Like an old friend you haven't seen for years. But then you get to talking and you realize everything changed, all but the laughter and joy that came with talking about nothing with a friend.” - Arco Dogson
“The powerful always call your whispers too damn loud cause they're morality stands on fragile glass, cracked and hollow, ready ta break with whisper decibels.” - Lockman Pierce
“I was a cracked seed wonderin' if he'd ever bloom, but all I needed was someone ta come on by with water and love, tendin' ta my heart and my soul and touchin' the scars in me with the tips'a their words in places my hands couldn't go. And that, is what Lucille is ta me. She's strong and valiant, risin' 'bove all trouble and cruelty. And when the war cry comes, you best believe she's gon' fight.” - Lockman Pierce
“It is when we are at war with ourselves that darkness comes on by, beggin' ya to diverge from your path. But don't stray, brother. When you're at an all time low, you gotta keep on walkin' the path'a the right. Cause darkness stands as the only poison mankind dares ta swallow.” - Lockman Pierce
“On the edge of death and madness I met a man with sadness bleeding from the edges of his eyes. He was just another broken man under a cruel man's shadow, and ever since I met him, trouble's known my name. But I don't blame him, for that.” - Fisher Rupkal
“We all need to cry a little, we all need to die a little to live a little. The sky's heavy with the scent of trouble and sin, and as the storm comes down I know, we'll face the rain and cackling thunder clouds side by side with those we call brother and sister. It seems people pass by the sorrowed man, hands in their pockets and ill thoughts in their heads, wondering why we don't help ourselves. But truth is, we left our hearts out in the storm to rust and always felt like if we put them back in our chest, our bones too, would rust over with the musky scent of trouble.” - Fisher Rupkal
“Hey man, look, the powerful will tell you you're nothing, but doesn't that mean you're free to become anything?” - Derrick Furmusa
“I'm just a curious spirit walking home in the dead of night, passing old identities by like stumbling strangers, knowing all I wanna do is walk through the front door of who I am and embrace this person I've become. And sure, as I walk inside claw marks etch the wallpaper and there might be one or two shadows hiding in the corners of my sanctuary. But this person I am is home, he's me, and I'll never let that change. All these hallways and doorways of me tell a story dotted with trouble and love that builds who I am from scars and memories.” - Derrick Furmusa
“I was never strong, but I've always figured the most important kind of strength is the kind that walks in your heart and your mind, rather then the kind that resides in black eyes and broken knuckles. I've got a lot of fight left in me, so I think it's high time I face the cruelty of this world with a crooked little smile and a few quips and jokes.” - Derrick Furmusa
“Someone once asked me why in the face of death, I smile. And maybe it's because I never saw death as a foe, or something to fear, rather just another part of life coming and going as the wind blows on by.” - Derrick Furmusa
“I's got a cold shoulder, but it's all I got to lean on, holdin' on long enough for it ta haunt me. My daughter says that it's okay, ta be me, but bein' me has only ever made me regret who I am. And so I let this person I am drift away from the cigarette smoke, wishin' a princess would come and save me. Cause I sit here in my eyes like Rapunzel, lookin' out her stained window'a glass and regret, wonderin' why she can never leave her tower. And I only ever let down my hair to let those that hurt me inta my mind.” - Julianne Hufflesburg
“My lips taste like lies whispered on a cold afternoon, my love feels like a flickerin' spark driftin' from the cigarette, and my heart, in the hand'a someone who cares, feels like not the rose, but the thorns from it's stem.” - Julianne Hufflesburg
“I must remind myself that life is a slow and insidious killer, drainin' the soul and heart outta ya before ya ever get a chance ta fuckin' live.” - Casimir Heartfull
“When I first met Remana she asked me who I was prayin' ta, and I sparked up a cigarette and told her truthfully? I was prayin' ta the silence hopin' I'd hear sumthin' in the echoes 'a my prayers. But now I look back at all these memories'a her and I see a red eyed ghost, lost in addictions and some delusional 'ope that she could crawl 'er way outta hell. I tried ta help her, but who I am simply weren't enough, so I took our kids and I ran from 'er ghost, wonderin' if I did the right thing or the cowardly thing.” - Casimir Heartfull
“I'm just a waste'a fuckin' life, sippin' on whiskey and lies in hopes ta bury this man I am six foot deep beneath liquor, cigarettes and sex. But part time pleasures never saved a man. Only made 'im forget who he is. I've got midnight rain swimmin' in my heart, growin' a garden'a regret and weeds in my soul. And God damn, man, I forget the way her fingers feel on my skin or the way her lips tasted on mine. And I gotta wonder if she misses me when I ain't around, or if she wishes she'd never met me and saved herself the trouble'a rememberin' me.” - Casimir Heartfull
“I was stolen away in the night by wolves in the dark, and now I grasp at who I am, clutching only air, wondering how I'm to bloom in gravel and bark.” - Candie Scavell
“The thing bout life is, it ain't fair. And it ain't never going ta be, nor will it ever be. We're all born different, given different lives and opportunities, so ta say life treats all as equals would be a lie. But that don't mean we can't treat each other, as equals.” - Vernon Crazendale
“I've been a wild, country rockin' ramblin' soul for a long time now, dancin' under the sunlight with cheep beer on my breath and just another reason ta live in my heart. But when that beautiful woman caught me up in her arms and tangled her way inta my heart, I knew it had been trouble and nuthin' I'd been livin'. Bobbi's a kind, gentle and wild soul, singin' her heart out, never afraid ta share her melody. When she places a hand on my cheek and tells me we'll brave this storm together, I always git this feelin' we'll walk out the other side, all be it scarred, and damaged. But still intact and fightin'.” - Vernon Crazendale
“I've never been a blind man, but it feels like, when Bobbi presses her lips against mine, she taught me ta open my eyes. I wouldn't want anybody but her lyin' on my chest when I fall inta sleep, I wouldn't want anybody but her tangled in my sheets. She's this beautiful guardian angel and I'm always swearin' up and down she was sent from heaven on peace's wings. She always chuckles and says she's human just like me, but I always figured that's what angels were.” - Vernon Crazendale
“A place an orange capped revolver under my chin, breathing in, breathing out as with the click of a plastic trigger, I let my imagination kill me.” - Alvadia Crow
“I often wonder if trouble kisses her knuckles before they hit my cheek, or if she loves the man she torments. I've crossed my heart and vowed to die, trouble looking me up and down with hungry eyes, my faith pinning me against the wall and stealing the mercy from my lip. I have a menace in my bed, he tosses and turns, nightmares plaguing him, faith killing him, and he is me, he's always been me. And so long as I am me, I shall never truly be. How cruel it must be to live under the shadow of love and faith, falling in love with all the things that want to kill you.” - Alvadia Crow
“I am beginning to fear God watches over me not as a loving mother or father, but as a watcher and tormentor, learning the ins and outs of me before she learns the cruelest ways to kill me. Perhaps it was never God's voice I heard, but a steady and aching silence I mistook for guidance.” - Alvadia Crow
“With trembling hands and shaking fingers I place this orange capped revolver under my chin, closing my eyes with a mind so weary. And as I slide my finger gentle against the trigger, and place my hand cruel against the hammer, I whisper to the sorrowful sinner that is I, "I think I better go before I try something I might regret." - Alvadia Crow
“My head's cloudy and my mind's up in the empty sky, soaring like Icarus toward their death, knowing as they fall, clutching at the world with tears in their eyes and freedom in their smile, they died themselves.” - Juno
“My father was everything to me, you know? He was like this hero I could always look up to when my mind treated me cruelly, and when I let the truth spill from my words, he accepted me as I am and pulled me into this warm hug that smelled of leather and acceptance with the slight tinge of smoke. It honest to God feels like I'm crumbling without him, and as villains and bastards swarm around me, I cry out to a grave to save me.” - Juno
“I just wish I could have one last hug from my father, one more kiss goodnight from my mother. But as I close my eyes and fall back into my mind, it's not their smiles that greet me, it's their graves that come to haunt me.” - Juno
“I'll always stand as a whiskey burning question, wisping and fading away like cigarette smoke on a cold afternoon.” - Tristan Ripburn
“I sink ta the bottom’a my thoughts and begin ta wonder who all the bones at the bottom’a the sea belongs ta. Only ta learn they was me, they was always me.” - Alaric Alistair
“I look up at grey eyes, wonderin' who I am as my tears and sorrows disappear like silence in the rain.” - Alaric Alistair
“I was just a boy with nuthin', tryin' ta make a somebody outta himself until I met the man that'd kill all the things that made me Alaric Alistair. He always tells me it's my fault that I continue ta live in his shadows and lies, and God damn, he's right. I pass by guns in the nightstand but never pull the trigger, I walk past him as he sleeps and don't kill the monster in my head, and as he tells me ta kill another soul and enact another consequence, I do as told.” - Alaric Alistair
“I'm a skinny and starvin' dog that never learned how ta bark, and so I rile myself up and leave no warnin' for my bite, always leavin' teeth marks and claws in everythin' I ever let go.” - Alaric Alistair
“I wonder what my mother would say if she saw me today, old bat slung over my shoulder, wicked grin lyin' crooked on my lip. I ain't the boy she rose no more, just the boy that fell.” - Alaric Alistair
“All that's left of me is an old chalk outline laying at the bottom of the streetlight, knowing that it was a knife in the back that killed this man I am.” - Maxlion Saltkal
“Some men will claim themselves good, some men will claim themselves bad, but I don't think I've got a definition for me. Cause I've been good, bad and everything in-between, wondering who I'll be when that first bullet flies. It was in the flashing and colored lights of the nightclub that I met my demise. There he stood, dancing to dead melodies and sins, not knowing, as the two of us met, fate had decided both of us would die.” - Maxlion Saltkal
“Bits and pieces of me have died throughout the years, and as I realize I can't carry all of them in my arms, I regretfully shove them into my empty chamber, slinging six broken pieces of me at the man that shattered me.” - Maxlion Saltkal
“I can never tell if I'm the hammer or the nail, but when we stare each other down, pistol's eye to pistol's eye, the smoke that leaves the gun shall determine who we are.” - Maxlion Saltkal
“Carva was just another justice bound soul until we met, and in my eyes she saw something wild, something reckless, but more importantly, she saw the possibility of us. She didn't care that I was a fucking lowlife livin' the outlaw life, because all she saw when she looked at me were the beautiful things I built my scars of. I've got blood on my hands and regret in my mind, but when she takes me by my hand and tells me I'm good enough for her, I can't help but think I'm on the path to redemption.” - Mika Hammerclub
“All cruel men who ever walked always left some kind of death in their stride, gunshots and echoes always following wherever their bootprint lied. But to all the cruel men of this world? I'm a cold fucking reckoning. Because God damn, I stand for justice these days and my chamber's full of names.” - Mika Hammerclub
“I'm a finger trembling on a dead woman's trigger, knowing I've no bravery left, only the emptiness that comes with sorrow.” - Kecia Brightburn
“It feels as if, in someway, my heart has become vacant in my chest and my demons rent out rooms in my head. And here I lie under the shadows of the bed, waiting for my monsters to slide their ankle over the edge. And as they do, I drag them under, hoping I have the courage to do what I must. But I always stare back into the eyes of my son, wondering if it's right of me, to kill the monster that stares at me with eyes I used to love. And so I let him go and sit like a shadow under the bed, knowing above me lies a wicked angel sleeping gently in his chaos.” - Kecia Brightburn
“In the span of a few days I lost my life, and now I swing from the hook skinny, starved and silent, wonderin' who I'd be if I never met all the things God's come ta fear.” - Markus Caesar
“In my small town'a secrets and lies I found an angel watchin' over the remnants'a Eden with a flamin' sword and sorrow in 'is eyes. And there he stood, defendin' the serpent for he was just another victim ta the lies'a the wicked. I used ta damn the man who bit down on his tongue ta keep secrets in the dark, but I's learned we're all victims ta the cold, hearts beatin' empty in a heavy and burdened chest.” - Markus Caesar
“I look up ta the empty sky, wonderin' what my aunt would think if she saw me now. She were my light in the dark, really, but now that she's gone my restless head's been singin' the damn blues and I'm lost on the silent highway ta freedom and grace. When ya lose your guardian angel, what are ya 'sposed ta become? I sit here like a regretful dog, layin' at his owners' grave, wonderin' when she'll come back. But it's bones and soil I'm lovin' and hopin' on.” - Markus Caesar
“A thousand dreamless lives sit heavy on my heart, howlin' for justice, but the beat'a my heart's become just another sound, and my bravery's fadin' like sparks in July.” - Markus Caesar
“The way I see it death has always been mercy. The moment a man falls he's been spared of the misery life tends ta bring, and whosoever lives on shall die a man they're not. After all, it's what happened ta me, eh? I stared into the unblinking eyes of death, but she turned my gaze to cruelty and shut my damn eyes.” - Zachary De’Lillium
“I bite down on bullets etched with my own fucking name.” - Max Tripp
“I've been a bad, bad man, and as I look at the sky and see the sorrowed eyes of my love in the clouds, I know she died ashamed of this man I am. I was her last mistake, and now here I sit like a flickering remnant of who she was, wondering when I'll get the justice I deserve. But I never find karma at the bottom of the glass, I never find redemption in the burnt stump of the cigarette. It's impossible to find who you are when you've always been blind, huh?” - Max Tripp
“Me and my demons play this funny little game of two regrets and a lie. I let her down, I whisper, I loved another, I shout. I'm a good fucking man, I weep. And there the demons sit in my mind, laughing and clapping, for they always know the lie.” - Max Tripp
“In the shadows of the wood I met a wolf, and with childlike glee and curiosity I followed him as he tossed rose petals on the ground. I built a rose from his lies, not caring for the way the thorns bled my palm. And just as I began to realize all wolves lie, he ripped me away with hungry eyes and carved my innocence into darkness.” - Carrie Howl
“I've got a few scars beatin' in my chest, whisperin' in the melody of my heart that I don't deserve these things I've got. But family ain't about deserve I reckon, it's more about who sticks by your side even when you don't really deserve it. When my rifle becomes too much ta bear, and my sins sit too heavy on my shoulder, I've got my family ta lean on. Cause it's when you're at your worst, that family's love is at it's best.” - Despevada Solace
“I've got prayers sittin' on my cowboys' sleeve that never made it ta God, and I wonder if he sees these words I scrawl on the scarred leather and linen'a who I've become.” - Despavada Solace
“I've got demons in my fucking head, man. They stand there just in the edges of my sanity, always leaving scratches and bites on the inside of my skull until pieces of them bleed into me. I've never been someone worth while, just another sad boy whispering lies to himself that everything would be okay. But look at me now! I've got power and insanity on my side, and I can't help but think these wicked things are what I should build my name off of.” - Wulf Azari
“In the shadows of murder and the light of sin I met a devil like me. She sits quiet and still with a festering rage in her heart and when you dare think she's a sheep, she'll smile and show you her fangs.” - Wulf Azari
“I've said goodbye to myself too many times, it's time I met who I'm not.” - Wulf Azari
“The world will remember the boy it forgot.” - Wulf Azari
“I am a quiet strangulation hidden behind words like, "No need to worry bout lil' ol' me.” - Hildon Crowrappha
“I was just another man on the streets, consuming part time highs, filling myself full of substances that would kill me. But as the angels started carrying me back home on wings of glass and fragile prayer, I had this horrible realization that I had never lived, for it had always been through death I walked. And so, kicking and screaming I tore myself from heaven, condemning myself to a life on Earth.” - Hildon Crowrappha
“I'm standing under the shadow of another woman's damnation, wondering why, if God is watching over us, she is allowed to exist? But perhaps God never had a plan for us, and all he could do was observe us like a dream, wondering why it was never lucid.” - Hildon Crowrappha
“It feels as if I carry a cross in my heart, and slowly but surely, it is turning itself upside down.” - Hildon Crowrappha
"I'm drownin' under the trouble I created, and I can blame my problems all I like, but it's my mind workin' against me, so in a sense, I've got an enemy inside my head and he looks like a God damn mirror." - Stefanio Dogvalk
"You wanna kill a man? Well then God damn, brother, just give 'im a reason ta hate." - Milo Horvinshay
"Something sinister lurks deep within his kindness, for it is just another masks he wears like gossamer and silk." - Maddox Spelfellheim
"Even the farmer stares at the coyote through the scope of a rifle." - Alfred Godsel
"And so when fate finds itself at the crossroads of two promises, which do you think it'll choose? Because from where I'm standing it sure as fuck seems like fate don't vow for the conquerors." - Mac McVale
"Sometimes life bats around the good people because it doesn't trust them to keep good hearts in their chests, so it dares fate to make the good hearts black." - Coby Mackentime
"I'm pretty sure the soul is a concept we made up ta answer the uncertainty of our morality." - Lockman Pierce
"Fear is a very funny word, it runs through many a man's veins, bringing them so gently to death. But death was never a friend, nor was life, nor fate, nor mortality. It was always just another way God could keep us trapped, for the day we sinned, immortality flitted away into nothing." - Calzell Flickerfeid
"A threat is a threat, the words matter not, the intention breathes through the blood in the air." - Calzell Flickerfeid
"Life is lived right up until the moment it isn't." - Calzell Flickerfeid
“Crazy only exists in the eyes of the well man." - Comodus Kalchamber
"Staring into my eyes, you see every man who fell like an angel from the sky. I used to believe God stood by all who worshipped, but I now know he only stands by those who worship right. I knelt at the altar, heart empty in my bones, and I prayed to a God who could never hear the quiet whispers I spoke. For he was never there, it was just who I am shouting in the corner of my mind." - Alvadia Crow
Man dun'it make a sound as he falls apart." - Oswin Sealock
"You think me a crack in this castle of glass? Brother, I'm the fucking hammer." - Lorenzo Storm
"My monster looks at me through the edges of my eyes, he's corrosive like poison, seepin' into my thoughts, my actions and the way I speak. Because in the end he's apart'a me, and ain't nuthin I can do to change that other than hope he leaves with the driftin' smoke." - Rustin Threadpatch
"I don't fear. I analyze, I come to understand. Then I damn, I fight. I condemn not what I don't, understand. But what I do." - Rustin Threadpatch
”I’m falling apart like a 1965 photograph. I’m faded and torn at my edges, little pieces of me missing, like a puzzle that you know ain’t never gonna look right. They can put little pieces of me back together, stitch my edges back against one another, but in the end I’m the still the same old photograph, caught as a ghost in a single frame of time.” - Rustin Threadpatch
"Some people like to think that getting away with it is another form of mercy. This is untrue! You didn't get away with it, my friend. The world simply forgot you did it. How unfortunate for you that I didn't." - Lieutenant Stenbarge
"People are, monsters at best, human at worst." - Rustin Threadpatch
"He walks confident like a loaded gun with the hammer pulled back and ready." - Rustin Threadpatch
"A delusion is only beautiful if the mad gives it a reason to be." - Maureen Chiseldowe
"Thing bout second chances, Graham. Is that they give the spared man the wicked fuckin' idea, that he can get away with it." - Henry Sinix
"Mankind does not believe the broken man. In the whole we trust, in the broken we condemn." - The Crow
"Be it God or man, we are always looking for someone to blame. Unfortunately, I am the blade others fall onto." - Arasill
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My dearest darling partner in crime, you know I have a mighty need for "Shannon actually divorced her husband instead of leaving him hanging for two years" S2 FWB Buddie if you are so inclined...*bats eyelashes*
Aha okay so this is now a multi-chapter mess. I have no plan. I don’t know where this is going or how I’m organizing this. But these stupid stupid boys won’t leave me alone, so here we are. Part one of what is sure to be an annoyingly feels-filled saga. You can also read it here on Ao3.
Onward!
The first thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is oh no, he’s hot. The world seems to go into slow-motion. He swears he hears music.
The second thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is what the fuck is he doing in my station.
Okay, so maybe he’s a little cranky because with some encouragement from Maddie (who arrived in town yesterday) he and Abby had a proper talk for the first time in weeks and officially broke it off. Buck’s not exactly inclined to listen to Maddie on all things, since she did up and be good as gone from his life for years—thanks, Doug—but she was only telling him what his mind had already been whispering.
Doesn’t mean that the break up doesn’t hurt.
So he’s cranky, sure. And Eddie Diaz (that’s the fucker’s name) is confident, and handsome, and funny, and fine as hell, and daring, and pretty, and dedicated, and sexy, and…
Ahem.
It’s a lot for a guy to handle, okay?
Buck’s spoiling for a fight, and the confusing dance his stomach does whenever Eddie looks at him gives him the perfect excuse to be a brat, and even though Chim and Bobby and everyone else is giving him the side eye, he just can’t seem to stop. He fell in love, really in love, for the first time in his life and once again he was abandoned, and he just wants someone to yell at. And if it provides the added bonus of Eddie’s near-constant attention, well. Icing on the cake.
Except Eddie’s not playing back. He’s not posturing, he’s not snapping. Buck feels almost like a dog getting rapped on the nose with a newspaper. In the gym, Eddie doesn’t lose his cool. He seems almost amused. Like he knows what he’s doing to Buck, like he knows Buck’s drowning and just swinging his arms wildly to see who he can punch, like he knows his stupid pretty face is making Buck’s entire body squirm and heat up.
Maybe he’s being a bit of a jerk. Just a little.
A bomb isn’t exactly what most people would call a meet cute or a place to bond, but Buck can tell Eddie warms to him after that. And he can’t help but feel a bit warmer himself, basking in Eddie’s smile.
“You can have my back any day,” Eddie says, and Buck knows it’s probably nothing, but it sounds like more—or maybe he just wants it to be more, since he’s lonely and hasn’t had sex in months and he’s realizing he likes Eddie being pleased with him.
“Or you could have mine,” he blurts out, throwing in a bit of sauciness, just to see, just to test.
Eddie’s gaze flickers, maybe—just maybe—his eyes get a little darker, and Buck wonders if maybe there’s another way to get out all his frustration.
___________________________________________________________
“Another story to tell the family, right?”
They’re stripping down in the locker room, and Chim’s rolling his eyes because they all know how he used to steal their stories for Tatiana.
“I don’t think Karen will want to know about this one,” Hen says, grabbing her stuff. “Have a good night!”
Buck waves at her, then turns to Eddie. “What about you? Anybody to impress?”
Eddie shakes his head. “My kid’s too young to hear about that kind of thing.”
A kid. Buck glances down, tries to be subtle. No wedding ring. “You got a kid? I love kids.”
Eddie pulls out a picture of a smiling, golden-haired boy. Buck can feel himself grinning. He really does love kids and this guy’s adorable. “His name’s Christopher.”
“He’s cute.” Buck hands the picture back. “What about his mom?”
Eddie tucks the picture away and grabs supplies for the showers. “She’s… not in the picture. Divorced.”
“That sucks, man.” Eddie’s single Eddie’s single Eddie’s single—
“It is what it is.” That’s a shut door if Buck ever heard one, but he’s an expert at prying things open. After all, he’s a firefighter.
Eddie heads for the showers and Buck…
Carpe diem.
Buck follows.
“So nobody to brag to, huh?” he asks, quickly stripping off his clothes so he doesn’t get them blasted with water.
Eddie glances over his shoulder, and the look on his face seems to be trapped somewhere between are you fucking kidding me and oh this is adorable. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who uses heroic stories to get into people’s pants.”
Not anymore. “Nah, I just bat my eyelashes.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet that works wonders.”
“Y’know, I do know sarcasm when I hear it.”
“Do you?” Eddie turns to face him fully and it hits Buck like a delayed webpage loading that oh, yeah, they’re both naked.
Go big or go home. “So are we going to do something about…” He gestures between them. “This? Or are we going to keep ignoring it?”
“What, the obvious alpha male posturing?” Eddie asks. “Or the fact that you want to sleep with me? Because I’m gonna tell you I got enough of the former while I was in the military and as for the latter, we’re coworkers.”
“Nothing against coworkers having a little fun.”
“I have a kid.” Eddie puts his hands on his hips and oh, okay, nope, eyes up top, Buck. “I just moved here. The last thing I’m looking for is complications.”
“Well lucky for you I’m a simple guy. As anyone around here will tell you.” Yeah, he’s aware of the joke about his intelligence, but whatever. “I’m great at keeping things uncomplicated.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, then reaches for him. Buck’s heart races—
—and then skips a beat as he’s blasted with cold water. He yelps, ducking out of the way as Eddie finishes turning on the showers.
The look of smug satisfaction on Eddie’s face is not attractive. At all.
“Real funny.” Buck wipes his face off and gets the water out of his eyes.
“Oh, hilarious,” Eddie agrees seriously. His eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.
Buck stands there, not quite sure what to do. The water’s warm, now, feels good, and it sure as hell looks good, sliding down Eddie’s body. Eddie’s not saying or doing anything, but he’s not kicking Buck out, either.
He debates for about ten seconds before he thinks, fuck it. He did the mature thing and waited for sex and did everything right and it still got his heart dashed to pieces. Why not be a little reckless? “You saying you’d object if I wanted to blow you?”
Eddie inhales a mouthful of water and splutters fantastically for a few seconds. The look he gives Buck when he’s finished is impressive. “You really have no shame, do you?”
Buck shrugs. “Don’t have the time for it.”
And he really wants to get his mouth on Eddie’s cock. Like, that’s kind of all he’s been able to think about since the grenade.
Eddie’s eyes narrow, and for a second Buck’s certain he’s going to get hit with a talk about sexual harassment from Bobby in the morning, but then Eddie plants his hand on the tiled wall and says, oh so casually, “Well, if you’ve got your heart set on it.”
Oh hell yes.
Buck’s been very diligently restricting his ogling to Eddie’s face and shoulders (what, they’re great shoulders, broad and tan and perfect for biting during sex), so it’s not until he sinks to his knees—carefully, the floor’s tiled and this is the only pair of knees he’s got—that he looks at Eddie’s cock and realizes it’s hard.
Ha.
Playing it cool and casual and this whole time he wanted Buck just as much as Buck wanted him. Buck is never letting him live this down. He looks up at Eddie through his lashes, a trick he’s learned works wonders when he’s about to eat someone out. “And here you are acting like it’s such a big chore to get your dick sucked.”
“Maybe I just like the idea of your mouth being too full to talk.” Eddie’s hand comes around to cradle the back of Buck’s head, his fingers combing through the short hair, tugging oh so slightly to get Buck’s head in place.
A shiver works through him. Jesus, that feels good. He hasn’t had a dry spell like this since he first discovered what sex was, and just the intimate touch of another person has his cock rising and his blood singing.
He leans in, nuzzling Eddie’s thigh, savoring the scent of another person, the feel of skin beneath his mouth again. And maybe he’s, ah, delaying things just a little, as he eyes the rather impressive dick in front of him, because. Well.
Here’s the thing that Buck kind of didn’t mention to Eddie.
He’s never given a blow job before.
But like hell he’s going to let it stop him now that they’ve reached this point. And besides, he knows what he likes, so it’s just a matter of remembering what that is and replicating it. This’ll be a breeze.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Eddie asks.
Buck glares up at him. “Have so.”
“You sure you’re twenty-seven? Because you sound like a five-year-old right now.”
Buck promptly takes as much of Eddie’s cock in his mouth as he can. He nearly takes too much and just barely saves himself from gagging, but Eddie makes a choked noise above him in response and that’s all that fucking matters.
“Ten points for enthusiasm,” Eddie mutters, and oh, it is so on now. He’s going to blow this guy’s mind.
Turns out, sucking dick is simultaneously eager and harder than he expected. Easy? Sucking. Holy shit. He could do this all day, he’s eaten ice cream cones that were more trouble than this.
Figuring out what exactly he’s supposed to do with his tongue? Difficult. Very difficult. It’s not until he has the bright idea of, hey, what if he treats a dick like a really big clit, that he starts to get the hang of it.
He’s never had a woman complain about his oral skills, after all.
Eddie’s hand tightens in his hair and he swears under his breath. “Again,” he orders, a bit breathless, and Buck repeats the little twist he did with his tongue against the slit of Eddie’s cock. He shivers at the order, at the implications of it.
“Oh.” Eddie’s voice is like a revelation. “Oh, you like that. You like when I tell you what to do?”
He can’t really nod right now, so he hums.
Eddie’s grip tights further. “Suck.”
His voice is a full-on growl and Buck’s cock jerks in response, electricity zapping every one of his limbs. Jesus, turns out there’s one place he really does like to be given orders.
“Jesus Christ, you should see yourself.” Eddie’s still growling, and now his hips are thrusting a little into Buck’s mouth, and Buck just lets his jaw go slack, lets Eddie use him. Eddie swears violently at that and speeds up, just a little, like he’s trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t hurt him, doesn’t go too far.
Buck feels like there’s a cat in his chest, purring, like he’d wag his tail if he had one, on his knees and being good and giving someone what they want. His jaw aches and his mouth is stretched but it feels so good, and if he’d known he would like sucking dick this much, hell, he’d’ve done it years ago.
He can feel Eddie tense up, his cock jerking against Buck’s soft palate, and Buck tries to open his throat to get ready—only Eddie pulls Buck off his cock and turns, spilling into the spray of the shower, the evidence washed immediately down the drain.
Buck’s voice is raw when he tries to speak. “I was gonna—you didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t want to assume.” As if he’s trying to make up for showing some softness and consideration, Eddie hauls Buck to his feet, a sly look in his eyes. “Now, what are we going to do with you?”
There’s a promise in his voice that Buck really, really hopes he’ll deliver on. He shamelessly plasters himself to Eddie’s front, lets Eddie feel his erection, and combs his fingers through all that thick, dark hair. Buck would kill to be able to run his fingers through it when it’s dry. Eddie’s hair always looks unbearably soft.
“Fuck me?” he says hopefully, grinding slow against Eddie’s hip. “I mean. I get recovery time, so… we can just make out until…”
Eddie’s hands find his waist and Buck whines, trying to catch Eddie’s mouth in a kiss. He wants that tongue counting his teeth, dammit.
“I’d let you,” he says, because oh, God, he would, he really would. Even though it’s reckless to let a guy you just met fuck you when you’ve never done it before. Buck’s gotten pretty far by being reckless.
“You’d let me,” Eddie says, something sparking in his eyes, and the next thing Buck knows, he’s been turned around and pressed face-first against the wall.
“You really think I’d fuck you here?” Eddie’s voice is dark and utterly filthy and Buck’s fucking trembling. “Hell no. If I fucked you, I’d do it right, get you all laid out on a bed and really take you apart. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Buck’s nails are scabbling at the wet tile, trying to find a purchase that isn’t there. He’s never felt this raw in his entire life and he vaguely wonders if this is what drugs feel like because if it is, he understands how people get addicted.
“Yeah.” Eddie’s lips are right at the shell of his ear now, his voice a heated whisper. “One look at you, boy, and I fuckin’ knew it. You just want someone to destroy you.”
Fucking yes he does.
Eddie bites at his ear right as his hand find’s Buck’s aching cock and oh, oh fuck. Eddie’s pace is brutal, going from tight and hot to feather light, the tips of his fingers dancing up and down, drawing Buck to the edge and then leaving him there.
Buck’s real glad that he got good at being quiet because of Abby’s mom, otherwise the entire station would probably hear him moaning and begging right now.
Eddie’s plastered to his back, his free arm around Buck’s waist like a band of iron, and Buck feels like everywhere they touch is on fire. “Jesus.” Eddie sounds half in command, half in awe. “You really fucking need this, don’t you?”
“So do you,” Buck fires back. “Or you wouldn’t have said yes to me.”
Eddie growls and bites his neck, like a wolf holding down another so he can mount him, and Buck goes lightheaded with lust. He twists his wrist on the upstroke, sucking on Buck’s skin, grinding against Buck’s ass like he might actually fuck him after all, and Buck comes so hard he goes deaf for a second, his ears going silent and then buzzing like a nest of hornets.
Buck rests his forehead on the cool tile and Eddie licks apologetically at the spot he bit, his grip loosening. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, why you want someone to put you in your place, but next time, maybe try talking to a therapist instead of propositioning your coworker.”
Buck snorts. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
He turns, leaning back against the tile, as Eddie grabs the soap. “Does that mean I can’t come to you? After you made all those promises about… what was it… taking me apart?”
The look that Eddie gives him is incredulous. “You realize what would’ve happened if someone walked in here, right?”
Buck grins. “Ah, but nobody did walk in here.”
Judging by the eye roll he gets in return, his comment is not appreciated.
“This?” Eddie gestures back and forth between them. “Was a one-time thing. We’re not doing this again.”
Buck nods, swallowing the disappointment that’s hot and acrid in his throat. “Sure thing.”
______________________________________________________
Well, obviously by ‘again’ Eddie meant ‘in the station’ because one week later they’re in the back of Buck’s car and Eddie’s mouth is attached to his neck like he’s a fucking vampire.
A car isn’t exactly the best place for maneuverability, so Buck’s not getting the fucking he was sort-of promised last time, but he doesn’t really care when he’s got a leg wrapped around Eddie’s waist and they’re grinding against each other like teenagers in the high school parking lot.
He rucks up Eddie’s shirt, gets is hands on all that smooth, warm skin on his back, and digs his nails in as Eddie gives a particularly hard thrust. He’s so fucking turned on he’s seeing stars and he should probably, y’know, suggest they take this somewhere else but he can’t, he can’t—his cock’s trapped underneath Eddie’s body, inside his pants, and Eddie’s mouth, and his hands, he’s—
His orgasm gives him vivid flashbacks to the less-than-glamorous trysts he got up to as a sixteen-year-old, but he doesn’t care because it feels so damn good. Eddie groans and thrusts harder, frantic, and he once again bites, this time Buck’s chest, as he comes.
Buck’s lying down, but he’s still dizzy. “I demand a proper bed next time.”
“There’s not gonna be a next time.” Eddie’s authority is somewhat diminished by the fact that his face is mashed into Buck’s shoulder.
The next moment, Eddie’s leveraging himself up and off of Buck. “We shouldn’t even have done that this time.”
“Why?” Buck follows him, sitting up, and nearly bangs his head on the roof of the car. “We’re two guys who don’t have time to date—I don’t even want to fucking date right now—you’ve got a kid—why not just use each other, y’know? I’m here, you’re here, I’m hot, you’re hot, our schedules line up, I’m not seeing a downside to this.”
“Of course you don’t see a downside,” Eddie mutters.
They regard each other for a moment, and Buck knows this is a serious conversation, but also his pants are soaked and they’re gonna start feeling tacky and gross any second now. “Look, I get it, you want to be smart. But I’m offering you a no-strings-attached-free-sex-whenever card so.” He shrugs. “If you ever decide you want to help me test out my new mattress, you know where to find me.”
Eddie’s dark eyes watch him for a second, his fingers tapping on Buck’s knee—Buck’s pretty sure Eddie’s not aware he’s doing it—and then he pulls back. “Yeah, I do know where to find you.”
He backs up and out of Buck’s car, and it’s a good thing Buck didn’t have any dignity to start with, otherwise he’d be feeling pretty undignified right about now.
#mads answers things#mads writes stuff#buddie#buddie fanfic#911 fox#911 fanfic#how dare you encourage me into this#and how dare they be so hot and so stupid#this is going to be a complete trainwreck#but a sexy trainwreck#extasiswings
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Korriban - Chapter 90
Link to the masterpost. Chapter 89. Chapter 91.
@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.
A/N: Guess who’s typing at work again. This bitch
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Hoo, I need to catch my breath a bit. I wasn't expecting that at all. I have to say, every time I imagined that, I didn’t think it would be so… fantastic! A bit itchy - the beard and mustache thing. But overall, wow! Kinda need to… focus a bit.
Jolee keeps grinning at me like a child, I feel like I’m floating. We head towards the Valley, I’ve got to meet Lashowe.
Carth looks back at me and does a bit of a double-take. “Are you all right?” he asks, “I’m sorry, I know that was a bit… sudden, I thought…”
“I’m fine,” I say with a grin, “Sudden, sure, but not at all unpleasant.”
He sighs in relief. “Oh, good, I was worried that-”
“Don’t be,” I reassure him, “Really. It was great. And if we didn’t have other things to do…” I smile and shake my head wordlessly. “But we do. So -”
“Right.”
“That’s that.”
Jolee scoffs. “Do the two of you ever finish a complete sentence around each other?” he asks rhetorically. I chuckle a bit. We do have a tendency to finish each other’s thoughts. And I’m not even reading him most of the time, I guess we’re just on the same wavelength a lot.
There’s saber practice going on in the chamber before the door to the valley. Sith saber forms don’t look all that different from Jedi ones - I guess there’s only so many safe ways to handle a lightsaber. And over in the corner is a Twi’lek, tidying up. That’s Adrenas, that’s who Master Uthar told me to give this datapad to. I think. Best to check. I walk up to him. “You’re Adrenas, right?”
“Yes, I am,” he says in the Twi’lek tongue, “Greeting, student.”
I hand him the datapad. “Master Uthar told me to give you this datapad.”
“He did?” he says, “Allow me to see that for a moment.” He takes it and reads it. “Ah, yes, I see,” he says, “I will do as Master Uthar requests, of course. Thank you for bringing this to me.” He puts the datapad in his pocket, and that’s that. Now all I have to do is make it to the tomb for the final test. But for now I just need to head for the Valley of the Dark Lords. What an overly dramatic name.
Wait a second. Somethings out there. Something not good. Something familiar. But only vaguely familiar. Trask… it was something on the Endar Spire. Something about Trask. “Guys,” I say to Carth and Jolee, “be ready.” Carth doesn’t waste a second and has his blasters out. Jolee opts to wait and see.
The door to the Valley opens before me, and I don’t see anything right away. Not until the door closes. Then it’s almost like it comes out of nowhere. Three Dark Jedi. Nothing I haven’t faced before - I wonder why I--? That feeling again. Trask - I saw one of them before. “At last, my search is over!” the leader says, “I was beginning to fear someone else had killed you and deprived me of the pleasure.” He scoffs. “You may have defeated the pathetic bounty hunter my Master sent after you, but you are no match for me! I have studied at the foot of the Dark Lord himself!”
Trask - why do I keep thinking about Trask? I can hear his last words in my head - “Damn! Another Dark Jedi! I’ll try to hold him off, you get to the escape pods! Go!” And I didn’t hear anything else after that. Maybe a few blaster bolts, a swish of a lightsaber, but nothing really. Trask was dead. He didn’t have even a chance to get to the escape pods, not that there was one left for him. Carth and I took the last one, and he knows we were the last Republic people left alive, he said as much. Why am I thinking about Trask now? I take another look at the Dark Jedi, I know that face. “You were on the Endar Spire,” I say finally, “You killed Trask.”
He scoffs. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says, “I’ll make your death as quick and painful as his!”
He throws his lightsaber. I jump reflexively. Jolee starts on one of the Dark Jedi flanking the leader while Carth lays down cover fire. My jump takes me right over the three of them and close to the entrance to a cave. A group of shyrack is lingering near the cave entrance, I can hear them. I can use this. I roll a flash grenade towards the entrance and it startles the shyrack. Just as I thought, they fly out of the cave, seeking vengeance on whoever threw the grenade. They’ll bother the Dark Jedi just as much as they bother us. Moreso if I can just… connect with them, tell them… They fly right past me and ambush the man who killed Trask. He can’t focus on us and the shyrack, which gives Jolee and me the time we need to take down the Jedi at his flank. Jolee has the one handled, so I lead the other away from the group so I can face them one on one. They step closer, I step back, back and back up until we’re both on level ground. Never been in a fair fight on unlevel ground. But by the time they realize what I was doing they’re already eye to eye with me - no more high ground advantage. They pull out their lightsaber and it clashes with both of mine. They’re a Guardian, same as me, and we’re a match muscle for muscle. But I’ve got something I know they don’t, and I know they don’t because it’s obvious from how they fight. What I have and they don’t is a lot of experience fighting outside. I’ve dueled on pretty much every terrain, including swampland, and it’s different than dueling inside, or even just practicing inside. The land breathes, it has its own rhythm that you lose touch with if you only ever fight inside. When you’re outside, you learn to use the terrain, the rhythm of the land, to your own advantage. Every rock, every insect, every particle of dust, becomes a part of your strategy. As a scout that was second nature to me even before I started dueling - getting in touch with the planet’s rhythm is crucial when you’re tracking animals or looking for water. A shift in my footing flings a rock at the Dark Jedi’s knees - not even a big rock - and they jump. If a single rock throws off your whole rhythm, then you’re not in tune with the rhythm of the land. Something I could easily use to my advantage. I catch them in a saber lock and take a deep breath. Using the Force to summon all the nearby pebbles and rocks from behind me. I close my eyes as the Jedi is pelted with rocks. They back away, waving away the rocks because they can’t see, but I can feel them through the Force, I don’t need to open my eyes. I sweep with my lightsaber, first at their legs, then the arms, and finally, when they’ve fallen backwards, I deal the final blow, and let the rocks fall.
This just leaves Malak’s apprentice, who is still being swarmed by shyrack. No doubt he can feel me through the Force just as easily as I can feel him. This fight will not be determined by the Force. Having finally had enough of the shyrack he blasts them with lightning and they fall dead at his feet. At the same time Jolee deals the killing blow to the other Dark Jedi, so Malak’s apprentice has all of our attention. But the apprentice only focuses on me for some reason. I can handle it, I can handle it.
He doesn’t fall for me trying to lure him off the high ground. He just uses the Force to try to lure me back closer to him. I’m easily more stubborn than he is, so this could easily be a standoff between–
HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS! Stop it stop it bastard stop –
“Rena!” Carth shouts, and the pain stops. What the hell was that? Is that what Force Lightning feels like? That was awful! I never was to go through that again! I take a quick second to regroup before I look up and see the apprentice heading straight for Carth. Oh, hell, no, you’re not going to do that to Carth! Without even thinking, I leap up and land right on top of the apprentice.
He lets out an involuntary “oof” before throwing me off, but he seems oddly pleased. “I knew I could get you to come closer,” he says with a smirk as I pick myself up, “Your passions will always betray you, as they always have.”
“You talk too much,” I say before rushing him with my lightsaber. He twists around, trying to fight both me and Jolee at the same time, but really focusing mostly on me. Carth keeps laying down cover fire, distracting the Jedi before he can make a killing blow to either of us. He manages to back me up against the cliff face, pushing me harder into the wall. He uses the Force to blow Jolee back, and he holds his lightsaber against me in a lock, I can feel the heat on my face.
“How ironic that it would end this way,” he says, his voice oozing, “And you don’t even know why, do you?”
Hang on. Oh, that’s gross but brilliant. “You don’t pay a whole lot of attention to your surroundings, do you?”
Well, he shouldn’t have put his hand so close to my mouth if he didn’t expect to get bit.
He recoils, as much in surprise as in pain - when the chips are down, I can bite pretty hard - just in time for Jolee to come at him from behind. Now the apprentice is reduced to fighting one-handed, which is nigh impossible to do with a double-bladed lightsaber. And when fighting two opponents it’s even harder. All we need to do is keep at him until he loses his footing. Then he’s mine.
He stumbles against a rock. Without a moment of hesitation I deal the killing blow.
God, I need a minute to catch my breath. I still haven’t fully recovered from the lighting. I lean against a rock, just breathing for a minute. I need my water. Carth and Jolee both gather around me. “That Force Lightning is no joke,” I say, gasping a bit.
“I almost thought he was going to kill you right then,” Carth says.
“If I’m being honest, so did I,” I say, and I take another drink of my water. “It would have been preferable to being shocked anymore.” That’s a place I’ve never been before, and I hated it. But, I’m good now. Caught my breath. “So,” I say to both of them, “where do you think first? Cave or tombs? There’s some renegade students in the tombs that master Uthar wants dead so of course I’m going to let them live, but there’s also some prestige to be earned from the tombs, so I’m told.”
“Do you think the students will still be there if we hit the tombs first?” Carth asks.
“Well, I told Lashowe about them, but she’s not a concern. They aren’t exactly a secret, I heard people talking about it in the library, but the caves are pretty treacherous if I heard right.”
Carth smirks at me. “You really want to go into the caves now, don’t you?”
“I’m super excited about the wildlife, yes,” I admit.
Jolee scoffs with a smile. “Why am I not surprised?” he asks rhetorically.
#star wars#knights of the old republic#kotor#autistic artist#fiction#specs writes stuff#kotor fic#rena visz#oc#fem!revan#ls!revan#carth onasi#jolee bindo#darth bandon#i realized while writing this that he never says his name#we know it because we saw the cut scene but the pc never does of course#korriban#chapter 90#swearing tw
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“Wet Sugar” [Part 29 of 30]
Summary: Erik and the merc head over to do the London heist and Yani accepts new gifts...
youtube
"The brotha's got this complex occupation
The brotha's got this complex occupation
The brotha's got this complex occupation
Me and this baby gon' be up all night long
Walkin' this wood flo' 'til my man gets home
I'm at the front do', I'm listening by the phone
But I'm gon' be here with my make-up on
It's been a long time since my man been gone
But when he get here, you know I won't be gone
Because I love him, love him strong
Me and this baby gon' be up all night long…"
Erykah Badu—"Danger"
Erik wiped down the modified BCM Reece 14 KMR-A. It was an expensive AR-15. He added an M203 grenade launcher with vibranium alterations. The weapon was a polished obsidian dream in his hands. He had to be prepared for the Black Panther. His own blood relative. Tainted blood.
Linda sat across from him cleaning the other weapons they were bringing with them to Korea. The closer they got to their departure date, the more serious she became. He still found it excruciating to be near her, but he treated her like he treated his past military unit that he hated, just neutral all the way.
Klaue walked into the den a watched them prepare the weaponry. Erik took that moment to grab some papers he held in a folder.
"I need you to sign these so I can get the Cessna."
"Seventy-Five thousand?" Klaue groaned.
"I can get you a new one for Three-Hundred Thousand. It's your money."
"Fine, fine."
Klaue used his alias and didn't even look at the paperwork. Just signed where Erik told him to sign and picked up the AR-15 from the work table.
"You missed your calling. You could make a killing modifying weapons full time."
"I'd get bored too quick."
Klaue's eyes looked past him and onto the viewscreen above the fireplace. He turned up the volume. Erik and Linda stared at it with him.
A weather report indicated the return of the hurricane season. And a large category 4 was headed for the islands along the Atlantic.
"I'm sure you battened down the hatches in St. Thomas, Killmonger?"
"Lock stock and barrel."
At last. A tell on Linda's face. A faint blink of her eyes. Erik caught her eyes with his as she picked up another weapon to clean.
"Looks like it'll be a bad one. Hope Our Lady is prepared for it. One of the pitfalls of island life."
Erik felt his midsection tighten. The last hurricane season had been a lucky one. He wiggled his fingers and kept the focus on the radar images and the predicted touch down points. He'd keep an eye on it. Climate change had made life tricky for people globally. It concerned Erik, but he pressed on and picked up a new weapon to inspect and clean.
Linda stared at him and his face felt open and vulnerable with worry. He looked away from her.
###
"Jesus, you can't be still can yuh?"
Yani pressed her hand into her side. The baby was moving too much for her to get fully comfortable. She sat with her legs lifted up with an ottoman in Twyla's house. Boxes stood unopened around her and she was pleased with the one small box she was able to unpack.
Moving in with Twyla had been a sound financial decision. Her lease to the apartment had become month to month, and Nannette was able to find a new roommate easily. Yani's rent money would help pay Twyla's mortgage, and in exchange, Twyla was able to work fewer hours at her job and watch Sydette so Yani could continue taking summer classes with a full course load. She didn't let her pregnancy stop her from finishing up a summer session. Her medical plans were revamped to include an additional two years to finish her degree. Her mind was set on getting into a residency program by the time the new baby was three. Her grades were exceptional but more important than school-Sydette becoming herself again.
The new baby seemed to focus her daughter's anxiety and fears, and Sweet Pea blossomed once more, so excited to welcome the new dumpling.
"Be still, just for fifteen minutes, please," Yani said to her already big tummy.
Sydette ran over to her and patted her stomach.
"Go to sleep," Sydette said.
"Listen to Sweet Pea, Dumplin'."
"Mama, yuh feet so big."
"A little swelling, love."
Sydette rubbed Yani's left foot.
"Fatty feet!" Sydette giggled.
"You gave me fat feet when you were in mi belly."
"No, I didn't!" Sydette said with a smirk on her face.
"Yeah, yuh did."
The doorbell rang and Yani didn't feel like getting up from her seat.
"Get the door, Sweet Pea. Ask who it is."
Sydette ran to the door.
"Who is it? What yuh want?"
"Sydette—"
"Your Daddy."
Sydette's face beamed.
"Can you twist the button?"
"Yes, Mama. I can do it."
The main bolt on the door was left unlocked for Twyla, but Sydette was able to turn the bottom lock.
Chez stepped into the room and scooped Sydette up in his arms.
"Detty!"
Chez tickled her stomach and Sydette laughed and tried to keep his hands from tickling her further.
"Her bag is by the door," Yani said trying to get up,
"Stay where you are. I got it," he said.
Picking up Sydette's weekend bag, Chez walked near Yani.
"You look big, gyal."
"Thanks, a lot," she said.
"I'm teasing. I'll bring her back early on Sunday."
"Okay."
"Twyla home?"
"No. She'll be back in a few hours? Why?"
"I know she's looking for a car. Wanted to see if she'd want mine."
"You selling it? Thought you loved that car."
Chez put Sydette down and raised up Yani's feet as he sat on the ottoman. He rested her legs on his lap and rubbed her feet for her.
"I'm moving to Florida. Found a good-paying factory job. Good hours. I can still make music. Perform in Miami and on the East coast. It's too expensive to ship my car over. Cheaper to get another car later when I get settled. Money will be tight for a couple of months, but I'll get Sydette's child support to you as soon as can. I have a better shot there."
Yani glanced over at Sydette who held the straps to her weekend bag on her shoulders.
"When are you leaving?"
"Next month."
Yani felt her forehead.
"You should have told us sooner, Chez."
"I just got the call. I have to go where the money is, gyal. You know that. I stay here and you'll bust my ass for not having my full child support."
He held his hands out for Sydette and she skipped over to him and rested her chest on Yani's legs.
"I'm sorry I won't be here to take Detty on the weekends. I can send for her with my sister and keep her at the end of the year once I'm settled—"
"No, this new one will be here then and I need my girl with me."
Yani scratched her belly. Chez stared at her hand.
"Ooh," Yani sighed while shifting her legs on Chez.
"Kicking?"
"Too much," she said.
Yani took in Chez's face. He looked hopeful. Ready to test his wings away from the island. It was bad enough having Sydette lose Killmonger. Now she was losing her biological father to distance and a chance at a better life.
"We will miss you," she said.
Chez's eyes seemed to spark at her words. She saw his eyes well up and she was surprised to see him cover his face with his hand.
"Chez," she whispered.
Sydette crawled up onto Yani's legs and touched her father's face.
"I'm alright Detty," he said lifting her weight off of Yani.
Yani moved her legs from the ottoman and rubbed Chez's back.
"I'm okay, Yani. You ready, Detty?"
"Yes!"
Chez stood with Sydette in his arms. Yani picked up her daughter's bag and handed it back to him.
"We'll talk later, yeah?" Yani said.
"I'll call you next week with more information. I'll be staying with my Uncle until I get my own place there. Say bye, Detty!"
"Bye, Mama."
"Give me kiss."
Sydette leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
"Give Dumplin a kiss."
Chez held Sydette upside down as peals of laughter erupted from her. She kissed Yani's belly.
Watching her daughter leave with Chez, Yani thought of how life changed in the blink of an eye all the time. She rested a hand on her stomach as she stood in the doorway tracking Chez helping Sydette into his car.
"Bye!" Sydette called while waving her hand.
"Bye, Sweet Pea. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
When they left, Yani stood and let the sun warm her face. The baby tumbled and then seemed to settle.
"I wish your daddy was here, Dumplin."
Patting her belly, Yani closed the door trying her best not to dwell on Killmonger for too long.
###
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck!
Sitting at a table inside a small Swedish café waiting for a sandwich and some decent coffee, Erik's eyes were glued to the tablet in his hand.
"Holy shit," Klaue said staring at Erik's device.
Other people in the café were staring at cell phones or their computers.
Erik couldn't believe it and he felt a cold dragging on his stomach.
He was already agitated watching King T'Chaka receive praise for his rousing speech giving support to signing the Sokovia Accords. The Avengers had made a deadly mess in Nigeria and over one hundred nations decided they needed to be regulated and controlled, and King T'Chaka's words were splashed all over the press. Public and private superheroes and other enhanced humans had to come forward and be counted, tracked, and given permission to act for good in the future. Erik was sure more vigilantes would break out, but he didn't give a fuck because Wakanda was the only thing he wanted. Once he had his father's nation in his hand, he would blow all these enhanced fools out of the water. Take them out if they couldn't bow down to him.
All Erik wanted to do was eat the perfect open-faced smoked-salmon sandwich and spend time out of the house and away from Linda and Limbano. He hadn't planned on watching his Uncle speak at the Vienna International Centre until Klaue told him that the King of Wakanda was on tv.
Regal, gray-haired, with glasses that gave him a gentle grandfatherly look, T'Chaka Udaku told the world how Ultron stole their vibranium and how his country would not stand by and let injustices continue.
The fucking audacity.
And just like that, Erik and the world watched the room explode and the cameras cut to news footage outside. Erik wanted to yell and jammed his nails into his hands to keep himself in his seat as he saw his grip on justice slip from his fingers.
Klaue's face was stuck in the firm grip of shock.
"This is going to change some things, Killmonger," Klaue said.
Words and images flew online fast and the explosion was quickly labeled a terrorist attack.
"There will be a lot of dead in that room, mate."
Rooted in his seat, it was confirmed soon enough.
King T'Chaka Udaku was dead.
Erik stormed out of the café and walked aimlessly through the street for half an hour. His personal cell blew up and when he looked to see who it was, he answered it.
"Uncle Bakari."
"Have you heard?"
"Yes."
"Are you alright? Where are you?"
Erik stopped walking and let the familiar sound of home focus him.
"I'm in Europe now. Saw the news in a café."
"How are you feeling, Nephew?"
"I don't feel nothin'…nothin' at all."
His Uncle knew he was lying. Erik's voice sounded heavy. Brittle.
"Erik…that was your Uncle, your father's brother—"
"That man ain't shit to me!"
People walking past Erik moved around him quickly because of his tone. He headed back to the café.
"I gotta go," Erik said.
"Call me later…if you want to talk. Shavonne and I are here for you."
"Okay."
Erik swiped his phone and he checked his other cell. Two texts from Klaue.
"Hey man, I'm heading back to the café. Had to take a call from home."
"I thought you were taking this explosion a little too hard, mate," Klaue said.
"Like you said, changes some things, but we'll work around it."
"I had the shop put your food in a to-go box. I'm heading back to the house. See you there."
"Cool."
Erik ignored the café and kept walking. His left hand pressed against the left side of his waist in the space he had saved to carve King T'Chaka into his skin. Stolen from him. Whoever the fuck killed his Uncle would feel his wrath eventually, but now Erik had to deal with T'Challa taking the throne.
Erik halted.
His cousin would have to take his father's body back to Wakanda. That would end all of his travels for the next few months. He'd be where Erik wanted him to be. Birnin Zana. The golden city. The terrorists had cheated Erik of one Udaku, but they had also made his endgame easier so he could have the other one. Losing his father in a violent way would have T'Challa rattled, he was sure of that. Erik knew what that felt like. A rattled King would also be a weak King. A distracted King. One who could easily be beaten.
Erik still felt a heaviness in his chest. There was fiery anger there. Something was stolen from him once more. King T'Chaka had escaped his due punishment and it sucked the energy out of Erik. When he returned to their hideout, he climbed the stairs ignoring everyone else and went to his room, throwing himself on his bed. His mind wouldn't let his body rest and he stayed up all night clenching and unclenching his fists. He tugged on the silver chain around his neck until his fingers clasped onto his father's ring.
###
The museum added additional security two days before the opening of the African Antiquities exhibit.
Linda was able to get a job as a barista there and spent a day walking the entire museum taking more secretive photos to make sure nothing had changed since Erik had surveyed it the previous year. She kept her eye on the lead curator, a grim-lipped white woman with an elitist attitude toward employees.
They hid in a flat less than a mile away from the museum. Erik planned logistics with Klaue and Limbano was able to locate a decommissioned ambulance for cheap purchase from a scrapyard. He also procured EMT uniforms for himself and Klaue.
"That woman is a fucking tyrant!"
Linda stormed into the apartment carrying take out from the corner pub. She went into her bedroom and changed clothes before rushing back out to finish her rant.
"I have never met a person with a stick so far up their ass—"
"Cutthroat museum director getting your dander up again?" Klaue heckled.
Erik and Klaue watched her fume near the window.
"She just does shit to pick on people…for no reason! Every fucking day she gets the same coffee from my section. We know how to make her beverage because she instructs us explicitly down to the most finite detail…and yet…it's never the right way. She's just contrarian for shits and giggles. Jesus, I don't know how regular people can take that day after day."
"But she always comes to you, right?" Erik asked.
"Yeah."
Erik stood up and walked over to her. Reaching into his pocket he handed her a small plastic two-inch bag. A yellowish-white powder sat inside of it.
"What is this meth?" Linda joked.
"On D-Day, put this in her coffee cup. Don't touch it with your hands."
"Fast-acting?"
"Nah. Slow burn. Timing is everything. The moment she sips, you hit me up."
Linda pocketed the poison and grabbed her take out container. She scarfed down a sausage sandwich.
"The plane is ready for Busan," Erik said.
"Limbano will take it over and secure housing," Klaue said.
"I have enough surveillance footage looped. Their security is very sensitive, so you will have a little over an hour to get in and out without them suspecting anything on their feed," Linda said.
Klaue stared at his phone.
"I'm trying to get some intel on Jo'Burg, but Huntsman has been avoiding me," he said.
Another tell.
Linda took a large bite of her sandwich and then wiped her lips as she stared at Klaue attempting to contact the dead merc. There was a lack of confidence in her eyes. A hint of…worry? When she stopped looking at Klaue her eyes darted up and Erik stood in front of her with a can of beer in his hand.
"Maybe he has another gig that he can't get out of," Erik said.
Linda's face froze, but then she reached for the beer and took it from him. He reached into her take-out container and grabbed a few fried chips. Popping them in his mouth, he kept his gaze on her, until she stood up to throw away her empty container.
"Well I need him," Klaue said.
Linda left the room and Erik turned on his laptop and studied the museum layout. The moment Linda fed the poison to the curator, Erik would have to maneuver himself into the exhibit hall, find the vibranium, and make sure the curator stayed near him. Reconnaissance video showed that she hovered throughout the space ninety-percent of the time, and if she was anal about her coffee, she would be anal about hawking his Black ass when he lingered around the room. Once she was down, they'd terminate distractors and make a body switch out into the ambulance smuggling out the vibranium. He just needed to find it quickly.
He switched his screen to the online exhibit brochure and paid attention to the pieces he suspected would be laden with the good stuff.
"What's going on with Bonnie?" Klaue asked.
"Bonnie?"
Klaue pointed to him.
"You're Clyde…she's Bonnie…for fucks sake. Bonnie and Clyde?"
Erik rolled his eyes.
"You two getting along?"
"Yeah."
"She seems distant…not distant…more like preoccupied."
Erik shrugged.
"She seems normal to me."
"Keep an eye on her."
"You getting bad vibes or something?"
"Not sure. I feel like she tiptoes around you. The usual banter between you two seems forced. Not as playful as it used to be."
"I think she's stressed because we are dealing with the C.I.A. now. A lot more hoops to jump through with them once we arrive in Busan."
"I don't think that's it."
"Want me to ask her what's up?"
"Yeah. If things are shaky—"
"I'll take care of it if it is."
Klaue patted Erik's thigh in an off-hand gesture as he stood up.
"Good boy," he said walking over to the window and pulling out a cigar from his shirt pocket.
###
Erik pulled on the non-prescription glasses once he arrived by taxi to the museum.
He made sure to pass by Linda's coffee cart as he strolled into the building. She had already looped the security feed. The morning crowd was gone and the afternoon patrons trickled in. A free public lecture on Benin art attracted a large crowd. He tapped an earbud in his right ear.
"Miss Sunshine has sipped her special brew," Linda said, "she's heading your way."
Erik slowed down and pretended to be interested in an oil painting. The museum director took another sip of her coffee and spotted Erik lingering. He eased away from the painting and headed toward the West African exhibit area. From his peripheral, he saw the director locked on him along with some suited security that tried to look discreet.
The moment he entered the exhibit hall, he steered himself to a glass exhibit displaying a few masks and metal spears. His vibram tattoo didn't itch, and the reflection of the glass showed the director's approach. Another white man in a suit and tie watched him also, his fingers clasped in front of him.
"Good morning, how can I help you?"
Her voice sounded annoyed. Erik turned his head to the left and looked at her with a smile on his face. Her eyes saw his gold slugs and he saw the internal shift she made to deal with him.
"I'm just checkin' out these artifacts. They tell me you're the expert"
"Ah, you could say that…"
Erik skillfully nudged her toward the display he was after. The itch in his gums let him know he had hit jackpot when he read the title cards. Aunt Serah was a fucking boss. Vibranium hidden as a mislabeled Fula hammer. Ole girl rubbed her stomach. Erik knew the poison was waking up in her body. She sounded so confident telling him where she thought the hammer came from. The bitch probably worked Aunt Serah's nerves.
"Nah…"
Her eyes glared at him and her mouth gave a small quirk as if she wanted to burp but couldn't.
"I beg your pardon," she said, her voice sounding surprised.
Erik gave her a quick once over.
"It was taken by British soldiers in Benin, but it's from Wakanda…and it's made out of vibranium."
The rasp in his voice startled her and she clutched her stomach a little harder.
Erik smirked.
"Don't trip, I'ma take it off your hands for you."
"These items aren't for sale."
She elongated the word sale in a way meant to put Erik in his place. The slow rise of heated anger rose in his gut. Fucking thieves.
"How do you think your ancestor's got these? You think they paid a fair price? Or did they take it like they took everything else?"
The bite in his voice startled her. He saw one of the security men inch closer to them.
"Sir I'm going to have to ask you to leave…"
Her voice stopped and she looked toward her minions as she coughed. Erik stepped in close and whispered in her ear.
"You got all this security in here watching me…ever since I walked in. But you ain't checkin' for what you put in your body."
The director gasped and looked at her coffee cup.
"Klaue and Limbano are in position," Linda said in his ear.
Erik smiled.
"C'mon mate…"
A security guard tugged on Erik's jacket, pulling him away from the distressed director.
"I think she might not be feelin' too good…"
The director dropped like a pile of bricks hitting the floor.
"Jam those phones, Linda," Erik whispered.
Erik called for help loudly as three security men surrounded the director on the floor.
"Klaue, Limbano…you're on deck," Linda said.
Less than five minutes later Klaue and Limbano came running in with a stretcher.
"Step back please, gents, step back please," Klaue yelled.
The guards ushered museum-goers toward the exit in the opposite direction. Erik lingered and watched Klaue.
Pistols with high-grade silencers were used to take out two of the guards. Klaue toyed with the third giving the man false hope of survival.
"You can go, but just don't tell anyone, alright?"
Klaue winked at the guard and the man took off running. He let him get twenty feet away before he nickeled the man's brains. The body fell hard.
"Bruh, why you ain't just shoot him right here?"
"Because it's better to leave the crime scene more spread out…makes us look like amateurs."
"I'll meet you guys outside," Linda said in his ear.
"Let's do this," Erik said, guiding Klaue to the vibranium.
Klaue took off the glove on his prosthetic hand and held it up to the exhibit. A sonic pulse shattered the glass and Klaue grabbed the Wakandan hammer. He used his pulse sensors to gently shake off centuries of rust and grit and history. He smelled the metal and laughed.
"You better sell that quick."
"Oh it's already sold," Klaue said bragging. He broke the handle off of the tool and glanced at Limbano to move.
A mask caught Erik's eyes.
He moved over to the standing display and leaned down to look it over carefully.
Regal horns crowned the top as intricate and very detailed carving told a bold story on the blue and steel gray stained wood. The title card said "Warrior Mask, Benin 17th Century". Erik snatched the mask off the metal rod it sat on.
"You're not telling me that's vibranium too, eh?"
"Nah, I'm just feelin' it."
###
Yani's favorite part of laundry day was pulling clean clothes out of the dryer and then folding them. Especially when she tossed in a laundry freshener sheet and everything smelled extra clean.
A clean rain fell outside as she put away Sydette's clothes and her own. She had even washed some of her daughter's old newborn outfits that she would use for Dumplin.
Sydette was sound asleep on her bed in the room she shared with Yani, and once everything was put away, Yani waddled out to the living room where Twyla was braiding Leona's hair and watching tv.
Yani stepped into the kitchen to make herself some fresh cocoa on the stove. She put milk in a saucepan on low and closed the kitchen window. The baby was resting easy inside of her. The day had been a calm one lugging that child inside of her around. One day she would see her feet again and be reacquainted with her toes.
"Yani!"
Twyla's loud shriek startled her and Yani moved as fast as she could back into the living room. Leona was grabbing the remote from Twyla and turning the sound up. The BBC news was on. Klaue's picture took up half the screen on the wall.
"Them find his body," Leona said.
"Shh! Let's hear it," Twyla hissed.
A British-Indian woman anchor told a horrible narrative and Yani wanted to cover her ears, but she stood with a heavy belly, wide-eyed and mouth open as the world was informed that the notorious arms dealer, Ulysses Klaue of South Africa, was found dead in Korea with two others. A woman. And another man. All of Klaue's business was put out into the world and even Twyla's face showed shock because of what the man was accused of doing for so many years. Killing. Arms dealing. Illegal transactions all over the world.
It was all sordid and nasty and so much more horrifying seeing it on the tv.
Killmonger was part of that, and now—
"Yani!"
Twyla moved away from the chair Leona sat in and grabbed Yani's shoulders and eased her onto the couch.
"I'm okay, I just felt a little faint," Yani said.
The headline news moved on to other things and Leona turned down the sound and switched channels.
"They didn't say his name," Yani insisted out loud.
"Calm down," Twyla said.
"They just said Klaue, and then a man and a woman. And there were no photos of him."
Her voice took on a pleading quality.
"Something's burning," Leona said rushing into the kitchen.
"Him not dead. He can't be—"
"They didn't say his name, so no one knows."
"I can look online."
Yani tried to get up, but her weight made it hard to move quickly enough. She felt the baby kicking her side and she gasped. The sharpness hurt. She had upset Dumplin.
"Relax cuz. Be easy, yeah?"
Yani nodded and leaned back.
"Whatever you were trying to make, that milk is ruined," Leona said.
Yani closed her eyes.
Please let me know you're okay, man.
Other news channels that mentioned Klaue only said the same thing. He was shot and killed and found in Korea. Two other bodies with him.
There was nothing Yani could do. Fretting about it would just get her worked up and the baby would feel it. So she focused on getting through the rest of the day with Sydette. Dinner. Bath time. Storytelling time. Sleep.
Yani curled her body around soft pillows and tried to rest her mind. She had to accept not knowing for sure. In the middle of the night, she lumbered out of bed and went to the living room to look on her laptop for any more information. Just various networks giving brief mentions, and then just as quick as the story came…it went.
A week went by and nothing new was reported. Her Aunt was now unemployed permanently from the man. And poor Jerome. Who would spoil him now if they couldn't walk onto the compound anymore? He would think that everyone abandoned him.
So silly. To worry about an iguana as much as she worried about her baby's father.
She touched her chest as her face grew tight. None of her children had their fathers in their life at that moment. Sydette would see Chez eventually in a few months, but Dumplin? Dumplin just had her.
She groaned and lowered her head. Breathing through her mouth she squeezed her hands into fists.
"Oh Lord," she whispered out loud.
She placed her right hand under her stomach.
"Twyla," she called out.
She stood up from the chair in the kitchen.
"Twyla."
"Yeah?"
Her cousin twisted her hair as she stepped into the room.
Yani grabbed a cup and poured water into it from a bottle. She concentrated on swallowing every drop and then turned to face her cousin.
"Dumplin is coming."
"Right now?"
"My contractions are now about thirty minutes apart. I've been keeping track all day."
"All day? You've been in labor all day?"
Twyla's face was bewildered.
"This is baby number two, remember?"
Yani grinned but Twyla's face was still frozen with surprise.
"I'll call Auntie and your Mom."
"Good. I'm going to walk a bit and track my progress while I call my doctor."
"Okay."
Twyla ran to the living room and Yani walked into her bedroom. Sydette was on her bed playing with her dolls.
"Hey, Sweet Pea. Go put your jacket and shoes on. Dumplin is coming."
Sydette's face lit up and she gave a loud whoop as she scrambled to find her shoes.
Yani held both sides of her stomach as she looked down at it.
"Hold on. Give me some time to get to the hospital, yeah?"
Sydette ran out of the room.
"Auntie! Auntie! The baby is coming!"
Yani smiled.
"Take your time, Dumplin. No rush, love. I'm here for you."
###
She was so tired.
By the time the last relative left the house and Sydette was put to bed sound asleep, Yani was able to sit in her new rocking chair and feed the baby. Fourth day home with the newborn and every relative had finally gotten a chance to see the bad man on the hill's child.
Dumplin.
Erik Paradise Galiber-Stevens.
Affectionately known as Riki by the rest of the family.
Nine pounds, four ounces.
Twyla took one look at him and exclaimed, "Dumplin? Tuh, this child is a beef patty."
The boy had the lustiest cry when he came out from between Yani's legs. Twyla cried the entire time she held Yani's hand in her private maternity room. Sydette had a side seat to watch everything and she was a better coach than her cousin. Her mother held Sydette and when her baby brother came out heavy and healthy, Sweet Pea shouted, "Don't cry, I'll help you!"
She had to have stitches, but she was glad that the birth wasn't as labor intensive as Sydette's had been. By the time she was rolled into the hospital to have him, Riki was out three hours later. Fat, vibrant, and restless. Arms and legs constantly moving like he had somewhere to go.
"Are you still sure about 'Paradise'?" Twyla said watching her breastfeed her son.
"What's wrong with that for a middle name? He was conceived in paradise and I want him to know that. What do you think it should be?"
"Lil Big Nigga—"
"Shut up!"
"He on them titties like his Daddy—"
"Twyla!"
"You know it's true."
"Nasty."
"Runs in the family. Before I forget—"
Twyla walked into her room and came back with a handful of mail.
"This all came to Auntie's house addressed to you. It was forwarded from your old place. All your bills."
Yani tilted Riki's head back and wiped his lips.
"Can you burp him for me?"
Yani took the mail as Twyla took the baby.
"Oh, stop fussing, you can have them titties again in a minute, greedy boy. Yuh Mama not going anywhere…Yani…what is it?"
"This came from Korea."
Yani felt her heart patter a little faster.
The manilla envelope had a typed address label on it for her apartment. The return address was written in Korean. The stamped date was recent. Five days previous.
"Open it," Tywla encouraged.
Yani took her time tearing open the flap. She took a deep breath and pulled out several sheets of heavy paper. She stared at them, looking over every single one carefully. When she lifted her eyes up to Twyla, she could barely breathe.
"Yuh scaring me cuz."
Yani was still in pain from having the baby, so she couldn't jump up like she wanted. She opened her mouth but she couldn't get words out.
"Yani…fuck…what is it?"
"Me and Auntie…"
"You and Auntie what?"
"We own the compound. These are deeds to all three houses."
Yani stared at the thick papers.
"Auntie gets the first house. I get Klaue's house, and we both share the middle house. It's the fucking deeds. We own everything free and clear."
"Yuh fucking lying!"
Riki whimpered from the volume of Twyla's voice.
"Killmonger did this. I know it. It's Klaue's signature on the transfer of everything, but…this is Killmonger."
Yani stared at her newborn son, his silky curls, button nose, full lips, and bright brown eyes so perfect. So much like his father.
"Dumplin, your Daddy gave us everything."
Part 30 Conclusion HERE
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Carnal Cravings (Alastor x Reader)
By Sophia Burns
Warning!!!
This book, is vulgar.Graphic,and so many other shameful things.So grab your bleach/holy water and enjoy.😂
"Is this a joke?" You chuckled in disbelief.
"No the bitch is actually serious." Angeldust cackled as he threw a grenade at Pentious.
You had been in hell for years now.
From the moment you were born you were in the spotlight.As you grew older you killed many in the ongoing turf wars, slaughtering powerful demon war lords and claiming their territories with ease.You were of the most feared and respected of the underworld...after all, you were the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and Charlie's older sister.
You were aware Charlie was opening a hotel, but to rehabilitate demons?These shmucks?Yea right.As if they would give Charlie the time of day.
"And you're staying there?" You giggled raising a brow.
Angel chuckled.
"Well yea, I don't have to pay rent."
"But you're staying clean?" You asked as you crushed one of the Egg boys in your clawed hand.
"Fuck no!" Angel exclaimed as he picked up a machine gun and began to obliterate a charging demon.
You rolled your eyes.
Your sister was an idiot.You loved her..but she was an idiot.
"You should come with me." Angel began wiping yolk off his face.
"I own and am a burlesque dancer i have no business there." You spat.
It was true.You were not only a dancer but the owner of a burlesque club called, "The Fallen Angel." Angel was one of your "Girls."When he wasn't shooting pornos he was dancing in your club.Now you refused to dance naked,yes you wore revealing lingerie but it was never without your infamous black and red pinstripe coat and matching fedora and a pair of Angels stiletto boots,you loved to sing and dance it was your passion, you loved to entertain, it was your passion and what you lived for.
When it came to looks you were tall, curvaceous and jaw dropping like your mother.With a voice like silk.And though you owned a Burlesque, you were still well respected.Not that anyone would dare disrespect you at the risk of their tongue being removed and eaten.
You looked up to see a Chanel 666 news chopper, the light shining down on you and Angel, waving at the camera you bore a daggered grin before plunging your claws through a demons chest and waving.
"HEY CHARLIE!" You screamed at the news camera before ripping out the demons heart and taking a bite.
Angeldust rolled his eyes and continued to shoot at Sir Pentious
"Show off." He muttered as you pegged the half eaten heart at Pentitious before roundhouse kicking him in the ribs.
You could almost hear Charlie face palming and Vaggie screaming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you two have anything to say for yourselves!?" Vaggie screamed as you rode in the limo.
"I have no involvement in your hotel business." You said with a shrug.
"She has a point." Charlie agreed.
As Angeldust and Vaggie began to argue, you arose and sat next to Charlie.She had a frown on her face.
"I'm sorry the interview didn't go well." You said softly putting a hand on her shoulder.
Charlie turned to you.
"Why did I think this was a good idea?" Charlie sighed putting her head in her hands.
"Darling, nothing worth fighting for is easy, this hotel..your idea..no matter how ridiculous it may seem..is not at all a bad idea.It certainly won't be easy but it just might be possible...but you have to win them over." You explained running your claws through her soft blonde hair.
She hugged you tightly, with a smile you returned her embrace.
"If you like i could offer my assistance?" You offered causing your sister to beam up at you.
"Really!?" She gasped.
"Why of course." You grinned.
"While I may not be participating,I would like to help you sell your dream." You said watching in amusement as Vaggie and Angel bickered.
"Could you at least stay then?" She asked with a pout.
In truth you didn't really have a home..you usually slept at the Burlesque or Angel's apartment before he destroyed it in a turf war.
"Sure why not." you shrugged.
Charlie squealed in excitement as you finally arrived at the hotel.
"Don't you need your belongings?" Charlie inquired as you all stepped out and made your way inside.
You chucked before snapping your fingers making two large suitcases appear at your side.
"I forgot you could do that." Charlie chuckled.
"Wait your staying too?" Vaggie asked.
"Yes, to help, not to participate, I still have a Burlesque to run." You replied.
"Fair enough." She shrugged.
"Charlie dear could you show me where I'll be staying?" You asked eyeing your sister.
With a nod, she lead the way up the grand staircase and through the hotel, right down the hallway.
"This is the biggest room we have." She began as she lead you to the door.
"Angel is next door, Vaggie and I are on the other side.Please make yourself at home, I'll wait for you downstairs." And with that, Charlie left you alone in the large room.
The room was completely blank.
But with a snap of your fingers it became a miniature version of your burlesque clashed with a bedroom that had a large heart shaped jacuzzi along with a grand balcony.And a huge fluffy heart shaped bed.
Your bedroom was on the right side of the room, the bar/lounge on the left.
Next to your heart shaped bed was a matching vanity with a giant mirror with circular lights on them.In the corner of the room was a small stage with two tall poles that connected to the ceiling.And finally you unloaded all your makeup and clothes.
When it was all finished and you were set up you changed into a short pinstripe dress with a pair of Angels stiletto boots.
Adjusting your tie,your hair lay flat as you slipped on your fedora once more and proceeded out the door.
As you descended down the stair case you didn't notice him staring at you, examining your physique with his hungry ruby eyes.Taking in your scent.Trailing his eyes down every curve.You were a walking masterpiece in his eyes...a rare beauty.
When you noticed him all the air had left your lungs.
Alastor the radio demon.
In an instant he was before you, and you swore to your father you could feel the evil radiate off of him.A cold shiver ran down your spine when you met his gaze,his form looming over you, yes you knew exactly who he was..only ever hearing of him you had never laid eyes on him...until now.
He reminded you of a wendigo or a deer with his tall lean form and antlers, and much of yourself in his pinstripe suit, his staff intrigued you as you examined the microphone...and at last you studied his face..and to be quite honest...he was rather attractive.Despite being a malicious demon...his hair looked unbelievably soft and you had to quell the urge to pet his perky ears.
His eyes overall were mesmerizing,his dark burgundy lids making his almost neon red irises pop,the glow making them all the more alluring.
"Well hello there~" he said in a rather smooth static voice.
You felt a blush creep on your face when he took your hand and kissed it.
"You must be Y/n."
You felt your knees go weak the moment his lips met your flesh making the skin tingle from contact due to the static emitting off of him, a shiver ran down your spine once he withdrew, you couldn't help but feel a wave of arousal wash over you at the sound of your name rolling off of his tongue.Before you could even respond Vaggie was between the two of you with a spear pointed at his throat.
"Stop right there cabrón hijo de perra!"
You couldn't help but chuckle as Alastor rolled his eyes clearly unamused by the weapon.
"It is rude to interrupt a conversation." Alastor began.
"It's rude to walk in here unannounced, especially a murderer like you, I know your game and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here you pompous cheesy talkshow shitlord!" She spat back pressing the spear to his throat.Alastor's expression darkened his smile widening as he looked down at her.
Alastor chuckled darkly.
"Dear if i wanted to hurt anyone here..."
"I would have done so already." He said in a raspy demented tone his face morphing into a distorted eerie grin, the static buzzing off of him.Making Vaggie and Charlie shrink and your blood run cold.
"No I'm here because I want to help." He smiled his expression returning it's normal cheery smile.
You burst into laughter before snapping a martini into reality and taking a sip.
"What's so funny?" Alastor mused.
Taking the olive on the toothpick and popping it into your mouth you turned your attention back to the group.
"What would the radio demon want with this place if I may ask."
"Like I said I want to help." He smiled proudly.
Now Charlie was confused.
"Um you want to help with?"
"This ridiculous thing your doing." Alastor proclaimed throwing his arms around you and Charlie.
"This hotel! I want to help you run it."
You had to stifle another laugh.Was this guy for real?
Alastor however still caught it, making him chuckle a little.
"Why?" You asked.
Alastor smirked.
"Why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I've lacked inspiration for decades, my work became mundane, lacking focus, Anguish! I've come to crave a new form of entertainment.Ha Ha ha!"
A smirk spread across your features.
"I'd love be that crave." You mumbled under your breath looking him over once more.
Little did you know Alastor almost choked on air when he heard you.
"Does my sister fighting a reporter count as entertainment?Or perhaps being a burlesque dancer?" You inquired with a smile.
Alastor chuckled before taking a step closer meeting your level.
"It's the purest kind my dear." He said in an almost seductive tone.
You felt the goosebumps rise at his term of endearment.
"Reality!True passion!After all.." he said looking at you over his shoulder.
"The world is a stage, and the stage is a world of entertainment." He finished cocking his head to the side.
You weren't gonna lie, you were absolutely loving his transatlantic accent, his presence, how he was spontaneous, and just overall entertaining in general..and not only that he was tall, attractive...and powerful.He was your wildest fantasy manifested into reality.
And you loved it.
How he would lock eyes with you in a way no one else ever dared to due to how intimidating you were.You had only just met him..and already he had you.
"So does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate a demon?" Charlie asked with a look of hope in her eyes....oh man.It was hard not to laugh thankfully Alastor did so for you.
"Of course not, that's wacky nonsense." Laughter lacing his words.
Charlie's face fell.
"Redemption oh, the non existent humanity, nononono, I don't think there's anything left that could save such loathsome sinners." He explained gesturing to Vaggie and Angel.
"The chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!" Alastor exclaimed gesturing to the hotel making you snort...the demon had a point.
"There is no undoing what is done."
"So why do you wanna help her if you don't believe in her cause?" You asked.
Alastor shot you a wicked grin with mic feedback before proceeding to explain.
"Consider it an investment, an ongoing entertainment for myself." He said wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer.
His lids fell and he twirled you around.
"I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure." He explained in a raspy tone...his point of view not only made sense but did no help to quell the blooming ache between your thighs as his claws sank into your waist ever so slightly.
You missed his touch as soon as he let go of you to conversate with Charlie.Not before giving you a sinful glance over his shoulder.
From the moment he first laid eyes on you he was interested....yes while the hotel had his interest..so did you.You were one of the most successful women of the underworld and were one big bundle of fun...not only were you gorgeous...but you were ruthless and whimsical in nature...it was like looking into a mirror.He never missed a show, or a broadcast of your carnage ever since you rose to power it was like catnip to him.He looked over his shoulder one last time at you before conversing with Charlie.
You took a seat next to Angel and Vaggie.
"Uh so what's the deal with smiles over there?" Angel asked looking between you and Vaggie.
You rose a brow in amusement as Vaggie proceeded to explain just how dangerous and evil Alastor was.
But you weren't listening.You had you slits trained on Alastor.
You sat there admiring his figure from afar as you finished your martini, vile thoughts creeping into your mind...he could feel your eyes on him prompting him to meet your gaze.But you didn't look away...you locked eyes with him.His bright red eyes staring deep into yours.Entranced by the cherry, pie cut irises.The smile he gave you was dazzling.
"Looks like somebody's got a crush." Angel teased nudging your arm.
Finally managing to pull your gaze away from his you turned to face Angel and let out a huff.
"Don't be ridiculous." You huffed before making a strawberry daiquiri appear out of thin air and taking a long drink.
"Oh please your eyefucking him right now." Angel said a little louder than you'd have liked making Alastor glance your way with a smile making you blush deeply.
"Shut the fuck up!" You hissed making Angel laugh.
"C'mon Y/n he looks like a strawberry pimp." Angel snickered as he looked Alastor over.
You shot Angel a glare.
"Well I don't trust him." Vaggie seethed crossing her arms and shrinking into the seat.
She had a point..Alastor was dangerous and not to be reckoned with..but to you..it was what made him all the more tantalizing.You watched as Vaggie arose from her seat and to Charlie to most likely try and convince her of Alastor's atrocity.But you knew your sister wouldn't be able to resist Alastor's influence.
"How can i turn someone away?I can't, it goes against everything I'm trying to do."
"Ha knew it." You thought to yourself.
You watched as your sister made her way to Alastor once more.
"Okay, so Al...your sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I'm trying to do here as a joke."
You watched his evil grin return before she turned to face him once more continuing her rant.
"But I don't, i think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better...so, I'm taking your offer to help on the condition that there be no trickster, voodoo strings attached."
"So it's a deal then?" Alastor said spinning his staff and extending his hand.
You were hoping she'd accept.Then came a green flash of light,wind started picking up.You sat there and watched in amusement sipping your daiquiri.
"No." Charlie said making Alastor retract his hand and the light fade.
"No,no shaking, no deals...i..." she turned away.
It was like watching a drama..Just fucking accept his offer already.
"As a princess of hell and heir to the throne, i herby order that you help with this hotel for as long as you desire....um what do you say Y/n?" Charlie smiled with her hands behind her back causing everyone to look at you.
"Actually I think Y/n is next in line." Angeldust shouted earning a glare from Vaggie.
"I don't want the throne." You shrugged earning a surprised look from Alastor and Charlie.
"And as for Alastor." You said taking a long sip of your drink.
"I certainly don't mind if you stick around." You said in a low raspy tone making everyone's face flush crimson.
It was something you had developed especially working at your burlesque..you had learned to speak in a very sensual and seductive manner, it got more money..and you loved to watch the people squirm under the influence of your voice..and you found it rather useful in getting what you wanted...as well as making everyone practically cream their pants.Though Asexual even your raspy velvety voice made Alastor blush a deep red.
"Sound good?" You inquired in that same tone.
Alastor furrowed a brow before returning his attention to not only you, but your physique.
"Fair enough." He smirked. Before moving along.
Vaggie's disdain radiated off of her catching Alastor's attention.
"Smile my dear." He said putting a finger under her chin.
"You know your never fully dressed without one." He smiled making Vaggie growl.He made his way back to Charlie.
"So where is your hotel staff?" Alastor asked leaning down to your level.
"Uh well."
Charlie immediately looked over to an angry Vaggie. Alastor followed her gaze.Chuckling deeply he adjusted his monocle.
"Your going to need more than that." He chuckled making his way to you.
"And what do you do." Alastor asked in a velvety voice similar to your own.
"I'm here to assist my sister." You responded casually taking a sip.You were desperately trying to calm your frantically beating heart at how close he was.
"Well I certainly look forward to working with you." He smiled seductively before moving on to Angel.
"And what do you do my effeminate fellow?" He asked gesturing to Angel.With a smirk Angel looked him up and down.
"I can suck ya dick."
Your eyes snapped wide open as you glared at your friend.Alastor withdrew there was a loud squeak of mic feed back before quickly returning to Angels level.
"Ha! No!" Alastor stated before swiftly turning around and making his way back to the middle of the hotel.
"Well this simply won't do." Alastor said.
"I suppose i could cash in a few favors to liven things up." And with that he snapped his fingers and then came a large fireplace.
In the pit was what looked to be a person.You arose from your seat to get a better view.Picking up the ball of what looked like burnt remains you watched as the ball opened a singular eye and popped to life..
"This little darling is Nifty." He said before letting her drop.
"Hi I'm Nifty it's nice to met you, it's been a while since I've made new friends." She said her pupil constricting.Her attention drew immediately to you.
"Wow your really pretty, no wonder Ala-" she was cut off by a furiously blushing Alastor giving her a death glare.You giggled.
"I'm a big fan of your work." She gushed.
"Why thank you Nifty." You replied with a pearly smile.
"By the way why are you all women,Do You Have Any Men Here!?" She exclaimed before lifting up Charlie causing Angel to grimace and Vaggie to point her spear at her.
Nifty was lively to say the least.
"I'm sorry that was rude.Oh man this place is dirty, it really need a ladies touch which is weird cause your all ladies no offense."
You burst into laughter as you watched her zip around cleaning up cobwebs and killing bugs.
"I love her!" You chuckled making Alastor grin.
Suddenly there was another whoosh of air before you could ask there was a large poker table in the corner of the room with an unsuspecting demon.
"Hah. Read em and weep boys, full house." He declared slamming the cards on the table.
He suddenly realized he wasn't in Kansas anymore and freaked out.
"What the hell?" He asked leaning against the table gripping it tight.
"What the fuck is this?"
His gaze met Alastor and he narrowed his eyes.
"You!" He hissed pointing a claw at a the radio demon.
"Ah,Husker my good friend, glad you could make it!"
You watched in amusement as Husker went off on Alastor..clearly he was about to obtain a large amount of money...before Al most likely teleported him here against his will.
"What the hell do you want with me this time?" The poor demon asked face palming.
"My friend I am doing some charity work so i took it upon myself to volunteer your services, I hope that's ok." Alastor said throwing an arm around Husk.
Husk however wasn't having it.
"Are you shittin me!?"
"Hmm, no I don't think so!" Alastor said giving him a squeeze before getting shoved away by Husk.
"You thought it would be some big fuckin riot just to pull me out of nowhere!? You think I'm some kinda fuckin clown!?"
"Maybe." Alastor smiled before a laugh track sounded through the room.
Did this guy have his own laugh track!?That's fucking hilarious.You burst into laughter making your sister stare at you.
"You think this is funny!?" Husk screamed at you.
"Yes actually." You smirked.
"I ain't doin no fuckin charity work." Husk spat crossing his arms.
You were about to say something when Alastor grabbed him again.
"Well i figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment!" He announced pointing his staff at a bar that had miraculously appeared.
"With your charming smile and welcoming energy this job was made for you!" Alastor exclaimed.
You couldn't control your laughter.
Al was fantastic.
"Don't worry my friend, i can make this more welcoming.."
"If you wish..." he said in a low tone and with the wave of his hand a bottle of cheap booze...clearly labeled, appeared out of thin air.
The demon wasted no time taking his offer and drinking the green bottle of booze, taking his place behind the bar counter.
Despite Vaggies loud objections Angel told her to shut up.
"We are keeping this." Angel said pointing to the bar before sliding into the stool to flirt with husk.
Shortly after you slid into the bar stool.Husk spun around ready to tell you to fuck off too.But the moment he saw you he went silent.His mood morphing from doom and gloom to full flirt mode.
"Well hello there, what can i get you?" He asked with a smirk.
"Double shot of jack." You smirked.
"Only if i can do one with ya."
You chuckled at him.
"Sure why not?" you smiled watching as he poured your shots.
Little did you know Alastor's smile had faded into a scowl.Anger bubbling deep within him.Before Husk could even speak to you Charlie was at the counter in Husks face welcoming him.
"So what do you think?" Alastor asked forcing a smile trying hard not to obliterate Husk who was still flirting with you.
"IT'S AMAZING!" Charlie squealed.
"It's okay." Vaggie muttered.
He grabbed you away from Husk and pulled you, Charlie and Vaggie in.
"This is going to be very entertaining." He chuckled.
Vaggie,absolutely disgusted slipped out of his grasp earning a static laced chuckle.Suddenly he used fire to distract Charlie before shoving Vaggie away, throwing you a wink before the music began.
You have a dream
You wish to tell. And it's just laughable,But hey kid what the hell!
'Cause you're one of a kind,That charming demon belle!Now, let's give these burning fools a place to dwell.
Take it boys!
Inside of every demon is a lost cause,But we'll dress 'em up for now with just a smile!And we'll orinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair,and show these simpletons some proper class and style Oh!
He took your hand and began to dance with you making you laugh and giggle before letting go.
Here below the ground,I'm sure your plan is sound!They'll spend a little time,Down at this Hazbin Ho-
His performance was interrupted by a big bang..Nifty was hit by flying debris sending her crashing into the wall.
You let out a growl before storming to the hole in the wall to see just who in the fuck disrupted his performace. Instantly Alastor was beside you with a sadistic grin on his face you were certain he didn't appreciate it either.And there up in his weird blimp, sat Sir Pentitious.
That fucker was still alive!?
"Ha well well well, look who it is harboring the striped freak." Sir Pentitous shouted.
Your face darkened as you stepped out onto the roof.
"We meet yet again Alastor." He said pointing to the tree of a demon.
"Do I know you?"
Sir Pentious growled.
"Oh yes you do!" He replied storming into his contraption.
You were angry, how dare he burst into your sisters hotel unannounced.You watched as a huge cannon came from the ship aimed directly at the both of you.At the same time you and Alastor snapped your fingers making a huge hole into another dimension appear.Alastor looked at you amused as you watched in pure bliss as tentacles began to tear the ship apart.
With a grin Alastor twisted his fingers making the tentacles grab Sir Pentious and squeeze the ever loving fuck out of him.A twist of his fingers and angry souls swarmed the ship further destroying the ship.He finally clenched fist making the tentacles crush the ship making it explode in a blaze of fire.
Alastor's face was dark, a bright red ex on his forehead, pupils constricted and thin, his grin now evil and demented.
And you felt your body go hot when his daggered pupils met yours.You were awestruck at his power.
"Well I'm starved!" He exclaimed as his expression turned to normal.
"Who wants some Jambalaya?"
A/n:Alright this is the first chapter.Reposted from my account on Wattpad.
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People are Alike All Over Part 2
For @whumptober2020
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?
On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
Read on Ao3
Summary: Bucky may or may not be rescued.
There’s a commotion somewhere.
It wakes Bucky from what little sleep he can manage to get in this place. He pushes up on his left elbow and tries to make sense of what he’s hearing beyond the enclosure. Sounds like voices. Lots of them. Shouting.
The shapeshifter across from Bucky has his face pressed against the glass, clearly trying to figure out what’s happening as well. The octopus hasn’t stirred from sleep. The cat is poised right in the center of its enclosure, licking its paw.
Moments later, all that noise and chaos is in their section. Someone’s tossed a smoke grenade. It goes off not far from Bucky’s cage and makes his eyes water. Through the clouds of white smoke, Bucky can see glints of green light. People dressed in what Bucky can only describe as some sort of intergalactic SWAT gear. They’re swarming through the place, going from cage to cage.
When someone reaches Bucky’s, they stop and just stare at him. Bucky can’t see their face, but the way they look at him, even behind that mask, it makes Bucky think he’s done something wrong and the last thing he wants is to give these things another reason to hurt him.
Out in the hall, through the dissipating fog, Bucky can see zoo employees being hauled away. Arrested, from what he can tell, with laser like cuffs keeping their arms behind their backs. He even sees Rumlow, who fights and struggles the entire time.
“Holy shit,” the person in front of Bucky’s cage says. There’s a name sewn into his uniform. Wilson, it says. “Cap! You’re gonna wanna see this!”
Wait a minute…that sounded almost…human.
The man lifts his face mask and it doesn’t help very much since Bucky’s not only seen aliens who look remarkably human, but also aliens that can replicate one.
“Hey,” Wilson says, softly. Gently. “Can you understand me?”
Bucky thinks he’s talking to him, and, yes, he can understand him, but he’s not so sure he should actually answer. Last time he spoke, he was hit with electric prods until he held in his screams.
Two other people appear at Wilson’s sides. A man and a woman. Neither of them are in protective gear. The woman, muscular and sturdy looking, has a bit of blue blood trickling down her nose. On her uniform is the name Danvers.
The man, though…that…is that…
“Which Cap, Sam?” Danvers asks. “There’re two’ve us.”
“Both, I guess,” Sam answers. “Take a look.”
First glancing at Bucky, both Caps’ eyes go wide before dropping to the sign in front of the cage. The second Cap, the one with the name Rogers, gasps when he looks directly back at Bucky again and Bucky immediately glances away.
“Oh my God,” Rogers breathes. “B-Bucky?”
No, it can’t be. That can’t be who Bucky thinks it is, it’s impossible. It’s not Steve Rogers. The Steve Rogers that Bucky knew from high school was tiny. Maybe five feet. Ninety pounds. Asthmatic and always sick. But still one of the most popular guys in school. Everyone fucking loved him and Bucky had the biggest crush on him but was much too intimidated to ever talk to him. That Steve Rogers didn’t even know he existed let alone knew his name.
And besides, this Rogers is huge. Buff. With the same face as Bucky’s Steve. The same beautiful blue eyes that drew in sunshine and brightened the world. The same tight jawline. Same thick eyelashes. But it can’t be.
Can it?
“Do you know him, Steve?” Danvers asks.
“I…I think so…” Steve glances around and shouts for someone. “Stark! Stark, you gotta get me in there!”
Another person appears, this time in some crazy iron get-up. Red and gold. When the face-plate lifts up, he looks just as shocked to see Bucky as the rest of them.
“Is that…” Stark looks between Bucky and the sign. “Is he…human? I’ve never seen…”
“Tony, please,” Steve implores. “You gotta get me in there. I know him.”
“You know…” Tony’s faceplate falls in front of him again. “You got it.”
Tony’s suit apparently enables him to fly and he soars over to the bars where he proceeds to use the lasers on his iron gloves to cut through the bars. As soon as they give way just a bit, Steve is yanking them out and dropping to his knees by Bucky’s side.
The first thing he does is pull the chain off of the collar. With his bare hands. He then does the same with the collar.
“Oh God, Bucky,” he whispers. “Bucky, can you hear me? Do you remember me?”
Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes and knows without a doubt that this really is the Steve Rogers he knew back in high school. He has no idea how it’s him, but, well, stranger things have happened.
As Steve continues to fuss over him, trying to get him to answer, to acknowledge him, to give him any clue that he’s aware of the things going on around him, Bucky can hear Tony and Sam comment about never seeing a human in one of these places.
“Bucky,” Steve whispers. There’s a soft blanket around Bucky’s shoulders. He’s not sure when it got there. “Bucky, can you look at me?”
That’s one order that Bucky finds himself able to follow. He lifts his gaze and looks at Steve. It’s been so long since Bucky’s talked that he’s not even sure if he can do it anymore.
“Fuck,” Steve swears. “Jesus, what’d they do to you?” All around, the people Steve’s come here with her entering the cages and enclosures and helping those inside them. Just like Steve is trying to do for him. “Medic! I need a medic in here!” When Steve shouts, Bucky can’t help the shudder. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve says, much softer this time. “I’m--”
“I…” Bucky whispers and almost can’t believe the sound of his own voice. “I wanna go home.”
Relief washes over Steve’s face, Bucky’s awareness enough to make the weight fall off his shoulders. If he’s not mistaken, Steve even has tears in his eyes.
"Yeah, I know," Steve murmurs, hands raised and close to Bucky but not touching. "I'm gonna get you home, buddy. I promise."
There are more people in the cage with them now. A green woman. A blue woman as well. Danvers and Sam. They’re bringing in a stretcher with a clear dome over it. Like Snow White’s casket only Bucky doesn’t think a kiss will wake him from this nightmare.
As soon as Bucky sees it, he grabs Steve’s hand. Clings to it. The idea of being separated from the first familiar face he's seen in months is terrifying.
"It’s okay, Bucky," Steve says. "I'm not gonna leave you. This will keep you safe from the air and light. I'm...we're…I'll take care of you. I promise."
Bucky’s too exhausted and too scared and too overwhelmed to argue. He doesn't protest as Steve helps him onto the stretcher. Bucky still won’t let go of his hand. He can’t. If he does that, he’ll never see him again. All of this will vanish if he can’t touch Steve and everything will go back to what it was and he’ll never get home.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he whispers, and Bucky’s not sure why he’s using a pet name, but he’s very much okay with it and he wants it again. “I’m gonna stay right here with you.”
Bucky lays back then and even though he’s trembling, he allows them to put the dome over it. As soon as it’s secure, there’s a hiss of air pumped in from somewhere and it’s fresh and cool and Bucky hasn’t felt air like this in so, so long.
When they lift it, Bucky gasps and presses his hand against the dome over him. Steve responds immediately by pressing his hand to it as well.
“It’ll be all right, Bucky,” he says, and even though his voice is muffled because of the dome, it still melts over Bucky’s body and eases into his bones. “You’re gonna go home. I promise.”
Those are the last words Bucky hears as they take him out of there. He can still see Steve’s lips moving, and is sure that others are talking as well, but nothing’s getting through now. Everything grows hazy, his muscles feel a bit too heavy. Makes it hard to stay awake. His hand slips away from the glass over him. Steve’s stays right where it is. Just as he promised.
Things are happening both very quickly and slowly at the same time. Like Bucky’s viewing the world through water. Colors swirl together. His pulse is very fast and pounding. He can mostly only hear the loud sounds of his heavy breaths and the muffled voices of everyone out there, though they sound miles away.
Maybe they’ve drugged him. Maybe this isn’t real and the zookeepers have drugged his food and he’s being taken in for a medical exam. It’s not the most far-fetched. It’s happened before.
Maybe they’re getting ready to stick him with needles for blood samples and pump things into him for his own good that burn and make him scream through the muzzle.
Maybe there’s no rescue at all. Maybe that’s why he’s seeing Steve Rogers as some sort of savior.
It really wouldn’t surprise Bucky if his mind has finally snapped. If it just can’t take it any longer and needs to invent rescuers in order to survive this whole thing. Although maybe it’d be better if…but no. No, he’s a fighter. He doesn’t give up. He can get through this.
Bucky takes one last look at Steve, still a steady presence at the side of the stretcher, still with his hand on the glass. Like some kind of mind reader, Steve looks back at him just as Bucky struggles one last time to keep his eyes open.
But he can’t.
All he can do now is close his eyes and hope this isn’t a dream.
#stucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers#whumptober2020#No. 5#rescue#fic#science fiction#alien abduction#mention of past abuse#part 2 of 3
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A Friend from Another Life
Someone else is here.
She shot up, pulling out her wingman and glancing down the stairs, getting low to the ground- small and undetectable.
They know you- they knew you.
A chill shot up her spine, and her hand flew to her radio, only to find it blocked out by static. Of course, she thought. Glancing out a gap though the wall, she saw nothing. She jumped at a bug which flew by, before retreating back into the building- either out of preparation or pure fear.
[based off a convseration on discord, then started at 2am last night soo lmao]
Also on AO3!
Sent on a scouting mission for Loba, she held a hand on her Wingman and an ear out for, well, herself.
“It's familiar, here.” She thought. “What's the deal?” Her quiet question echoed in her mind, no whispers from the void answering her question, suspiciously. “Fine, be like that.” The swamps of King's Canyon were peaceful at night, all the flyers asleep and bugs chittering about. It's peaceful- yet Wraith felt anything but. She stepped up through the ruined houses, water dripping through the floorboards above and pooling below the house. She grinned as she remembered downing Elliott here, both of them away from their squads to loot. She brushed the spot where he lay before returning to the dropship, and a crackle of electricity shot through her.
Someone else is here.
She shot up, pulling out her wingman and glancing down the stairs, getting low to the ground- small and undetectable.
They know you- they knew you.
A chill shot up her spine, and her hand flew to her radio, only to find it blocked out by static. Of course , she thought. Glancing out a gap though the wall, she saw nothing. She jumped at a bug which flew by, before retreating back into the building- either out of preparation or pure fear.
She took a breathe, clutching her gun in one hand firmly and preparing to void run out if she found herself outnumbered.
"Okay. Best case scenario, no one's here. Worst…" Her thoughts trailed off, not knowing the worst case. The entire IMC-Hammond army? Shadow Revenant? "Breathe, Wraith. Focus."
She took a hesitant step, moving down the stairs. The woman pointed her pistol at the door, then the other. She repeated this until she gently pushed the door open and quickly phased out of instinct. A strange, metallic glint below the water caught her eye, and she returned to reality and clicked on her radio.
"Hey, Loba, I found something. I'll get back to you in a sec." She said, quiet and calm, though she was painfully aware of every sound.
You were close, back then.
Wraith stopped, shook her head and set up the scanner Crypto had given her with. The voices did this occasionally, played with her. Of course, the fighter had grown used to the occasional tease or quip from some other her. But this… this felt cruel, if they were joking.
Wraith, once more, got low to the ground and reached for a weapon, this time her Kunai, knowing she'd give herself enough time to get away if she takes one person out with it.
Beep!
She quickly moved over to the scanner, and she dropped the screen as soon as she saw the results.
There was a titan under there.
A Ronin to be specific- IMC, but clearly abandoned. She turned the scanner onto the drill setting as Crypto told her to- and she dug down deep enough for the Titan to boot itself.
"If this titan attacks me and there's not even a grenade around here, I'm fucked." Wraith though, hands both of her on weapons."Wraith, any progress?" Loba's voice pierced the silence, but Wraith clicked off her radio-link and dropped it, as she heard the Titan make the first signs of being online.
"Ro… Ronin Unit... VW-9767… online." He said, his chrome paint obviously chipped away from ages of neglect.
Wraith stood silent for a moment, waiting for any movement. Upon realising that it was unable to move she stepped forwards.
"VW, um," She paused again, really not knowing what to say. "How long have you been here?"
"Records show I have been stationary for the last… 1,857 days. 5 years, a month and two days. I have remained in a state of standby until my pilot's return." The Titan relayed back, and Wraith sighed.
"Who… who is your pilot?" She asked, and it was unlikely she'd get back someone she knew, right?
"My pilot is… Senior Research Pilot Renee Blasey." They said, unleashing a storm of whispers from the void.
He knew you.
You were close.
He's low on power.
You left him here.
He's not a threat.
"You… knew me? I was your pilot?" She asked, hesitantly. The Titan said nothing for a moment.
"After running a scan on your vocal pattern, I can confirm that you are, indeed, my pilot." The titan shifted slightly, its arm trying to move out of the ground, to no avail. Wraith muttered a 'don't move' before moving to drill out the Ronin. "If I may ask, where have you been, pilot?" Wraith said nothing in reply, not sure how to say that she woke up in an IMC mental institution, was experimented on and then broke out and joined a bloodsport commissioned by Kuben Blisk himself. That's not so easy to explain.
"I've, uh, I lost my memories a while back." She said lowly, even a little guiltily. "I'm sorry, VW. If I knew…"
"I understand, pilot. Please, do not feel guilty on my behalf." VW replied, matching his pilot's low tone. "While you were gone, I was in a state of low power- much like sleep- but unfortunately, I am still in need of an extra battery."
"Alright." She replied, stepping back and letting VW move out of the hole. Clunkily and slowly, the Ronin pulled himself out the hole and moved all his joints as to get rid of all the dirt which clogged them up. “Do you know where to get a battery, VW?”
“Scanning the environment…” He paused, his sensors analysing the local surroundings. “There are none nearby. However, there seems to be a dropship incoming shortly to the west of here.” Wraith’s eyes shot up- before dashing over to the radio unit she dropped on the floor.
“-raith?! Come in, Wraith!” Loba’s voice echoed down the radio unit, clearly anxious.
“I’m here.” She cooly replied, placing the radio unit in her ear. She hears a sigh of relief and a quiet “oh mon dieu” from Natalie, who assumedly rushed over to help find her. “Did you send a dropship out?”“We did, but I’ve only just left. You okay?” Bangalore’s voice met her, sounds of a ship in the background.
“Shit.” The smaller woman cursed, panicking. Someone else was after the titan- or her. “I’ll call you back.”
“Wai-” She cut off the radio, before pocketing it and glancing back at VW.
“You have enough battery in case we need to fight?” She asked her titan, who replied,
“Yes, though I don’t have too long before my last battery runs out.” She nodded stepping toward him. “Your helmet is in my cockpit.” He said before opening up, allowing Wraith to swing in and see the helmet. It was dark purple and had a small yellow triangle on it. She paused, realising it was the helmet the other Wraith was wearing when she was in the IMC headquarters. “Something wrong?”
She smiled slightly. “No, not at all.” She slipped it on and sat in the seat, allowing VW to autopilot. She watched the HUD appear on the screen in front of her. Three statements appeared in red before disappearing again.
Protocol 1: Link to Pilot
Protocol 2: Uphold the Mission
Protocol 3: Protect the Pilot
“When was the last time you were in a titan, pilot?” VW asked, starting to move. Each step was slow and calculated- though there was improvement until VW got into his usual stride.
“I haven’t.” She replied, adjusting to the movement.
“Okay, our neural link will be suboptimal for a few days, but as long as you keep that helmet on, your link to me will calibrate and improve.” She nodded, feeling the link’s slight influence on VW’s movement. The dropship could be heard nearby but Wraith felt confident in her titan’s abilities. “So, tell me, pilot, is the IMC still a thing?”
“Well,” She thought for a moment, memories rushing back to here and fleeting just as quick. “It’s, uh, complicated? I don’t work for them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I see.” The titan was quiet, for a moment Wraith was scared the titan was about to turn on her before something appeared again.
Protocol 2: Uphold the Mission - Unclear..?
“Wraith, report!” Bangalore ordered, her radio crackling to life. VW scanned the radio briefly, before,
“I have linked your radio to your helmet, pilot.”
“Holy SHIT, IS THAT A TITAN?!” Bangalore shouted, dropship looming above.
“It’s a long story, Bangs. I’ll explain at Elliott’s.” She replied, seeing a dropship hovering over the Hydro Dam. “Where are you?”
“Over the ARES Capacitor, why?”
You’re being looked at.“Fuck. VW, cut through those trees-” She ordered, her link too weak to take full control. She looked back, and she saw that they were attracting attention. “-go, NOW!” He picked up the pace, wobbling slightly but following his orders instantly. Wraith felt a calming feeling and assumed it was VW’s response to her nerves. Picking up the pace, he neared the Capacitor, and Bangalore waved them over, surprise evident on her face.“Wraith, I hate to tell you this, but there is no fucking way that Ronin is getting on here.” Bangalore stated, and Wraith hummed in the affirmative.“Pilot, if I may suggest something?” VW asked.“Sure, go on.” “If you eject my AI core, then you may upload me into a newer titan later on.” Wraith hummed, considering it for a moment before going.“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” She stood slightly, allowing VW to let her out before she stood in front of him, allowing him to kneel down.“And Pilot?”“Yeah?”“Thank you for finding me. I… I missed you.”Wraith smiled and placed a hand on his eye. Gently, she felt it push against her hand and she pulled it out, along with the SERE Kit. Bangalore gave a low wolf whistle as Wraith pulled off her helmet, and took the SERE Kit from her.“Haven’t seen one’ a these for a long time. FNG’s would always try an’ steal from the titans.” The soldier said, pulling out the smart pistol briefly, and putting it back in. “So, how long were you gonna hide you were a pilot?”“I didn’t know, Bang. Apparently, I was a ‘Senior Research Pilot’, which explains a few things, I guess.” Bangalore nodded, having too much respect for Wraith to push any further. “Well, let’s get you back, and then we’ll figure out how to get you a chassis.”Wraith nodded, before taking one look at her old titan and her helmet before stepping onto the dropship.
#apex#Apex Legends#Wraith#renee blasey#bangalore#anita williams#loba#loba andrade#titanfall 2#ronin tf2#my writing
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The Dishonored RPG [Session 9 part 1]
Distinguished individuals, for a little while I’ve been going off about a character named Harriett Anderson. I have offered very little explanation into who she was spare saying that she was a dumb-ass. [ which is still very true]
Well.... here she is
She is part of a 3....im gonna say 4 technically individual party.
First there is Harriett, she is a Miscreant, a crime boi if you will
Next is Darius who is a Guide, he has by his side a wolfhound by the name of Asher
and Last but CERTAINLY not least we have our sneaky boi Phineas who is naturally an assassin.
The party dynamic had been growing very decently for the last 8 sessions we have had.
Our party has narrowly escaped a ton of shit and defied death a number of times. Our luck has been decent, we have had sessions so far that have had the party on the edge of our seats......but this last session DEAR GOD..........you wanna talk about panic inducing and fear......LET ME TELL YOU omg
So we are chilling, heading our merry ol way down the flooded district and a plant type monster is clinging to one of the buildings and we ......as sneaky as we are.....are able to slip by un noticed
we arrive to an area that is flooded...[IN THE FLOODED DISTRICT NO LESS]. It is sort of like a lake type deal that our party is sure leads to the access tunnel we need to enter....
Well... Phineas got himself stuck under some rubble under the water making a lot of now and now....the plant monster sees Harriett and Darius.
Darius hides in rubble with Asher.
Harriett dives into the water, to hid and to help Phineas. Luckily Phineas gets himself unstuck and UNAWARE OF THE PLANT MONSTER...goes to the surface to breath
Well the Plant monster starts to shoot thorns and Phineas nopes himself back into the water. He and Harriett start to swim for the access tunnel in hopes of dodging the thorns.
WELLLLLL our DM had us roll something and we are like....*chill chill np chief*
and my favorite sneaky twink rolls a COMPLICATION.
and our DM is like.........*hold up.... I need to take a second break for this*
at this point we are losing it cause this can be nothing but trouble..... and our DM comes back.... like
As Phineas swims, he is hit with thorn after thorn and one hits his neck and he goes limp.....
*now when I say panic I want you to know I was in full PANIC mode
our DM was like... “im not gonna kill him, trust me....” so we are like....OKAY
Harriett watching her Buddy get messed up swims and grabs him.... and takes him into the tunnel.
After throwing a grenade to throw plant boi off, Darius and Asher follow right behind.
Phineas is VERY CLEARLY dying and Harriett is panicking trying to do what ever she can to help her friendand then our DM goes
after 10 mins of trying you feel his heart stops beating and he stops breathing.
THIS WHOLE MAN IS DEAD
Darius is sitting his face in his hands and Harriett is crying while still trying to do something distraught as hell......
THEN OUR DM GOES...
Phineas you wake up......
hold up.... HE WHAT
okay.... now we are sitting here in near silence.... as players and characters like HOLY SHIT..... our mans is dead and we failed him. WE are all in shock...
now I want you to guess where he was at ....
Ill wait a moment for ya
IT WAS THE FUCKING VOID..............THIS MAN WAS IN THE FREAKING FRACKING VOID.....
The outsider waltzes over ya know.....LIKE HE DOES
and tells Phineas how he is certainly causing a stir...
AND GRANTS HIM THE WHOLE ASS OUTSIDERS MARK
He is woken up and fully healed. THIS man came back from the dead.... like straight up .....no heart beat to boooom heart beat.
Harriett is crying her eyes out hugging Phineas as Darius is in full on shock that this man came back from the WHOLE ASS DEAD
We all took a moment and collected ourselves and moved on with our mission but OUR TWINK HAS VOID POWERS..............
it was a very fun session and im gonna post a second part with some character ideas and directions.
[Reposted cause I forgot to add a title and it bothered me]
#Our boi....hes got VOID POWERS#This session changed everything omg#I can not wait for next week omg#Dishonored#dishonored 2#dishonored rpg#dishonored oc#dishonored session
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Don’t Say Sorry: Chapter 2 || S.R.
Warnings: Fighting (physically this time), bombs/grenades, bullet wounds, mentions of death, blood (loss), passing out, language
WC: 1.9k
After the Civil War, you, Steve, Natasha, & Sam are on the run. All hell breaks loose when aliens attack Earth and HYDRA figured out where you four are hiding. At the same time, Steve reveals the truth about the murder of your parents. What some now call the “Infinity War” then commences. Who will make it? Who won’t?
You look outside the window, holding a glass of water in your still-shaking hands. You had silently cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how much Steve had betrayed you, how much he had betrayed Tony, how much you had betrayed Tony. Tony had known, but why didn’t he tell— your thoughts are interrupted by the ringer on your SAT phone, signaling that you had gotten a text. Really, Steve? I’m not letting you talk to me, so now you’re texting me?
You had called upon your friend Daisy for a favor: four SAT phones. SAT phones were untraceable by the government or anyone else you hadn’t given access to your SAT phone. The only contacts were Daisy, Nat, Steve, and Sam. You had given Tony access too, just to see if he would try to find you, but nobody knew.
But instead of Steve’s name...
It was Tony’s.
Was he going to turn you guys in? Guilt falls upon you as you worry about him betraying you although you had been doing that very same thing for the past two years. You open up the text and it reads:
Tony
8:24 AM
Hey sis, how are you doing? Don’t worry, I didn’t tap the text. SAT phones, huh? Someone’s high-tech. How’s Nat doing? Sam? Hope you guys are okay, living on the run can be hard.
“Stark? What is it?” Nat asks mildly.
Your voice catches in your throat. “I— Um.. nothing. It’s nothing. Listen, I’m going outside for a couple minutes, I’ll be right back,” you announce absentmindedly, not even looking up from your phone. The morning humidity is noticeable, the sunlight casting a golden blanket across the landscape. You look back down at your phone, reading the whole message.
Tony
8:24 AM
Hey sis, how are you doing? Don’t worry, I didn’t tap the text. How’s Nat doing? Sam? SAT phones, huh? Someone’s high-tech. Hope you guys are okay, living on the run can be hard. Want to make sure my little sis can cope. Anyway, I was digging through some files and think I struck gold. I’ve attached it below. Tell me what you think. Stay safe,
Tony.
You swallow the lump in your throat as you open up the file; immediately, you feel as though all the wind has been knocked out of you. It’s an old photo of you, Tony, Mom, and Howard. But this one isn’t like the others, the ones where everyone is managing a fake smile and looking directly into the camera, one where the world would assume that you’re a happy family. Definitely not. You recognize a 3-year-old Tony and a 1-year-old you, grinning a toothy smile as Tony playfully stuck his tongue out at you. Mom was holding Tony in her arms, laughing at Tony’s silliness. But what hits you the most is Howard.
He has a genuine smile on his face, looking down at you in his lap. The same Howard that sent Tony off to boarding school when he was seven, leaving you alone for another two years until he did the same with you.
The same Howard that had never told you that he had loved you, not even that he liked you.
The same Howard that had always told you were a disappointment, nothing more than a waste of space and money. Whichever night that followed resulted in you getting zero sleep, tinkering away in your room for at least next twenty-four hours as though it would get rid of all your problems; although it wouldn’t. Mom stayed at your door for a couple hours, begging you to come out. Tony stayed outside your door the whole time.
Another wave of guilt hits you as a tear slides down your cheek, which you quickly wipe away. Honestly, how many tears could someone cry?
“Listen, I’m sorry—” Steve’s voice rings through your ears as sadness is replaced with anger.
“I don’t want to hear it,” you scowl as you push him to the side of the doorway, quickly walking towards the kitchen table and slumping down in a chair next to Sam. You look at the photo, trying to memorize every little pixel.
Looking over at you, Sam asks, “Who are they?”
You smile in nostalgia and sadness, wishing you could go back to those days. “That’s Tony, Mom, Howard, and I. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” You abruptly stand up, startling Sam and walk over to your nightstand, putting your phone as to not be tempted to look a the picture again. “So, where are we going next?” You ask, subtly changing the subject as Steve finally moves from the doorway to the kitchen, whispering something to Nat. She shakes him off.
“I was thinking that we could go to Brazil, I’ve heard—” and out of nowhere, you’re on the ground, ears ringing, vision blurred, and a throbbing pain in your head. Rubble is scattered everywhere, and if you had hit your head just a bit harder, you would’ve mistaken the specks of white drywall for snow.
What the hell? What’s going on? You try to get up and comprehend what happened as your head pounds, your hand instinctively going for the gun in your holster.
“Engage fire!” You hear as you put your back up against the bed, breathing heavily as your mind tried to gather itself and not slip into shock. You hear gunshots and turn the safety off on your gun, firing a couple shots blindly behind you. You peek over the mattress and catch a glimpse of a silver, snake-like badge. HYDRA.
Looking over at Steve, Nat, and Sam, you see that Sam and Nat are using the table as a shield, Steve army-crawling over to them while Nat temporarily holds her fire to help him behind the table. That table won’t hold. You frantically look for a way out, worrying that you all were outnumbered. You see a window open just to their left which the HYDRA agents couldn’t see due to a wall; Nat had opened it this morning to let some fresh air in. They have a chance to escape, and you needed to let them take it. Even if that means you won’t make it out.
“It’s HYDRA! There’s a window behind you guys! Plan two on me, go!” You yell at them, getting your gun ready to fire once again. Plan one was attack, two was a diversion, and three was to make a run for it. You four had made them in case of an emergency, but none of them had been used until now.
You put your left hand on the top of the bed and start firing as you rummage around with your other in Nat’s duffel for an automatic, a taser, a knife, anything. As you look back, you see Steve still using the table as his shield, with Nat and Sam out of sight. He probably let them land first so that they can start up the Quinjet. A few shots barely miss your head and you duck down behind the bed, letting out a string of very colorful words.
“Are you hurt?” Steve yells over the gunshots, and you shake your head no.
“I’m fine, but you need to get out!” You scream back, shooting blindly once more with no success.
“I’m not leaving you here!” Your heart pangs.
“Get to the Quinjet, and take off if I don’t come back in three minutes!” You reply, knowing you wouldn’t. The soldiers were advancing, most probably because they had noticed that there was no more firing coming from Steve’s side. You weren’t sure about the exact number, but there were either a hell of a lot or they had automatics.
“I’m not leaving y— grenade!” He yells at the top of his lungs, and your eyes fall to where his are. Damnit. Your eyes widen and without a second thought, you grab the grenade, and chuck it over the bed, ducking for cover, but not fast enough. A bullet hits you in the shoulder and you let out a cry of pain, dropping to the floor just as the grenade explodes. You hold your breath to see if your aim was on point, and sure enough, there aren’t any more gunshots. You sigh in relief and stand up, Steve running over to you.
“You’re hurt,” he points out the obvious, gently reaching out to grab your arm, but you pull away.
“I’m fine,” you lie straight through your teeth. Judging from the amount of blood having had soaked your tank top, you were far from fine, but the team didn’t need another thing to worry about right now. You look over at the agents, seeing that there were just four with six automatics. No backup.
“Fucking idiots,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. “Shit, we’re gonna be on the news.”
“That’s the least of our worries right now,” he points out, eyeing your bullet wound. “I don’t know if Tasha can stitch that up.”
“She can, and she will. We need to get out of here. Shit.” You sway from side to side, falling onto the bed.
“Oh my God.” Steve pulls you up, putting your good arm on his shoulder. Your vision flashes white before darkening, and you groan. “Hey, you have to stay with me, you hear that? You can’t black out now.”
“I’m not planning on that,” you moan, another wave of pain rolling over you.
Someone runs through the door and you immediately draw your gun, pulling both yourself and Steve to the ground as you fire over the top of the bed, ignoring the searing pain in your arm.
“Guys, it’s me, Natasha!” You peek over the bed to see that it indeed, is her. Sighing in relief, you and Steve both get up. You put a hand down on the bed to steady yourself, Steve immediately grasping your shoulders to stabilize you. “Holy shit.” And you know Nat’s seen your arm. Running over to you, she grabs your arm and you wince, hearing a muttered apology as she inspects the bullet wound carefully. “How the hell did this happen?” You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off. “Never mind, we’ll talk about it later.” You battle the urge to go to sleep, eyes fluttering.
“She’s losing blood fast. We need to get her to the jet. Can you walk?” Your brain barely registers what she asked.
“What? Oh— I, Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I can’t…” Your knees give way and Steve catches you, hoisting you up, bridal style.
“That ripped straight through the third part of her Axillary artery. If it was lodged, I wouldn’t be as concerned, but right now, her arm is going to bleed out if we don’t do something about it.”
“I’m still conscious, Nat,” you groan, burying your head in Steve’s chest.
“Can you fix it?” Steve asks nervously, biting his lip.
“I don’t know. Right now, we need to get her to the jet. We’ll have four minutes after she passes out to stop the bleeding, or else she’s gone.”
“Yeah, those four minutes are gonna start right about now.” You could feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness.
“Just try to stay awake for as long as you can.” You can feel Nat stroke your hair. “Let’s get to the Quinjet. The sooner we do, the better.”
“It’s okay, we got you. You’ll be fine.” Steve’s soothing voice is the last thing you hear before the darkness takes over.
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