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likedovesinthewindd · 2 days

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game; part eight of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: patrick doesn't understand the game you're playing | content/warning: explicit language, light angst, arguing, and everyone being shitty lmao | tags: @midwestprincesss

"Do you ever think she's just using us?"

Art makes a questioning sound, muffled by the mouthful of donut he had all but shoved into his mouth. He chews and swallows it quickly before speaking up again. "What do you mean?" he asks.

Patrick sinks a little lower into the plastic chair, the sun catching his face before he sits upright again. "I dunno, like," he thinks a moment before continuing. "This thing we have, whatever it is," he says, gesturing between the two of them, "it just kinda revolves around tennis."

"It's like some kind of weird pavlovian response she has," he continued, eyes trained on the blue clay of the turf. "Like as soon as she starts talking about tennis, it gets her going."

"Kinky," Art joked with a playful scoff. Patrick shook his head, his body sinking back down into the chair. "It's kinda fucked up," he added softly. Art only hummed as he thought the situation through, his hand wiping across his mouth absent-mindedly. "Maybe it's better that way," he says, "I mean, she knows you're not serious—"

"Who says I'm not serious?" Patrick asked, looking at Art, who in return had a incredulous look on his face. "C'mon, Pat," he started, "you're in a new city every week, she's doing good for herself, moving up the ranks. I mean," he shrugged.

Patrick scoffed, sitting upright once again. "Why do you sound like you're trying to protect her from me or something?" he asked with a laugh lacking any humor. Art stayed quiet, his eyes now also trained on the blue turf, and just in time to see you emerge from the locker room, the giant bag hanging from your shoulder.

Patrick's eyes followed you for a moment, watching the way your tennis skirt swayed with each step before he suddenly stood up and moved through the grumbling people wordlessly.

When you scanned the crowd, you found Art sitting in the fourth row, a small smile on his face when your eyes finally met his. You returned the gesture with a wave before you noticed the seat next to him empty, no Patrick in sight. Your stomach churned with something uncertain as you started warming up.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

You lost, and horribly at that. Your opponent was still fairly new and the fact that she had managed to beat you inflated her ego by a hundred and made you want to throw the tennis racket at her head to wipe that smug look off her face. You should've been able to beat her, but you didn't, and now Sarah Joy Anderson had ended your winning streak.

You were in a foul mood after that, not even waiting around for Art and immediately making your way back to your dorm. A piping hot shower later, and you now sat quietly in bed, finally working on your assignments as the small radio on your dresser softly played.

A knock at your door startled you a bit and you had to gather all your strength to face anyone considering the mood you were in. You got up with a grunt, taking a moment to take a few calming breaths before opening the door.

It was almost funny how fast the initial calmness seeped right out of your body at the sight of Patrick standing in front of you, a matching scowl on his features.

"What kind of game are you playing here?" he asked, voice soft but still demanding of an answer. "I don't wanna do this right now," you said, ignoring his question as you moved to slam the door shut until he effectively stopped it with an outstretched arm. "I'm serious," he said, eyes staring you down and filled with so much unidentifiable emotion you almost folded. "What's your plan? Why are you doing this?" he tried again.

You were quiet for a few moments, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You were angry at him, angry at losing to fucking Sarah Joy. Angry that he thought he could come here and confront you like this. "Why weren't you there today?" you asked, a small smirk forming when you could physically see the frustration expression deepening, his hands moving to rub over his reddening face. "Because I don't want to play your fucking game anymore," he answered in a frustrated breath.

"Choose," he said suddenly, catching you off guard. "What?" you questioned, recoiling when he moved closer to you, almost in your face. "Choose," he repeated, "me or Art."

"No," you said, watching that sickening smirk stretch across his face. "C'mon, is it really that hard?" he laughed. Actually laughed. "Fuck you," you said with so much venomous anger you felt lightheaded once the words left your mouth. "Yeah, you've been trying to for months."

The sound of your open palm hitting his face was loud in the quiet hallway, echoing through the area and through your body. The bright red hand rapidly imprinting itself onto the side of his face almost made you smile if it weren't for the look on his face.

You both were quiet, the realization sinking in as you stared at each other. It was a blur after that, as cliché as it sounded. All you remember was him pulling you closer with a force that had you practically falling against his chest and his mouth on yours. And as messed up as it was, you could feel the anger pouring out of you with the way he was gripping at you and the way his mouth moved against yours almost angrily.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

#challengers x reader #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #patrick zweig #likedovesinthewindd #tumblr don't flag me pls

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starfxkr · 3 days

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kinda cnc idea ig but going to a drive in theater you’re invested in the movie but trailer park!jj is trying to force you to suck him or sucking him cause he fell asleep mid movie (you were just trying to be a good girl and wake him up to leave☹️)

if jj initiates it'a during a movie you really love, one you've been looking forward to for months since the drive in announced its halloween specials but he doesn't care, he's wanted your mouth on him since you put on that sweet cherry lip gloss he loves. he starts off slow--kissing your face and neck while grabbing your pussy to try and get you into it but you're adamant about watching the movie so he get's aggressive. he locks a grip on the back of your neck and starts forcing your head down in his lap, which is very easy considering how strong he is, and before you know it he's got you gagging around him, roughly fucking your throat until he fills your mouth. you try to be defiant and spit it out but he doesn't let you, jj instead covers your nose and mouth so you cant breathe and says, "either swallow it or you don't breathe. pick." of course you swallow, and he tucks you into his side and kisses your forehead like he didn't ruin your night.

if you initiate it's because he def fell asleep 30 mins into the movie, and you tried multiple times t wake him up but it wasn't working at all he was knocked out. you gave up eventually until the last 15-20 mins of the film was coming up and you knew you had to get out of there, so you bed down to kiss and rub him over his jeans and he kinda grunts but he doesn't wake up. more extreme measures must be taken. you pull him out half hard and start sucking him off until he wakes up almost confused but you look elated when he shoots down your throat and you kiss him so deep he can taste's own cum on your lips.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj

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coffeeghoulie · 2 days

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Mushy May Day 27: Backstage Shenanigans

Aurora and Aeon are menaces, and Rain is an enabler. Swiss wonders why he puts up with them some times.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers <3

Aurora doesn't know how to explain it. It might be her air affinity calling her upwards. Maybe it's hiding to brace for a long night. Maybe it's just her near constant desire to be mischievious. Regardless, Aurora's light enough to hide up in the scaffolding above stage right while the rest of the crew works on set up.

It's quiet up here, watching the crew moving below her cartoonishly small. In a couple hours' time, this place will be full to the brim of screaming humans, Aurora perched up on her pedestal in the far corner of stage left. For now, she breathes, trying to keep the anticipation at bay. She's still new to this all; asides from Aeon, her summoning-mate, all of the other ghouls have years of experience on her.

She tries to keep her mind focused, not spiraling into her doubts even though she knows she was chosen for a reason. Soundcheck starts soon (She doesn't know how soon. She doesn't even want to risk pulling her phone out and dropping it from this height) and she knows she'll have to return to the ground once again.

The metal rigging creaks, and Aurora jolts, manicured fingers wrapping tightly around one of the beams as she momentarily loses her balance. Once she's righted herself, she turns, frame relaxing as she sees another figure hauling themself up to sit beside her.

"Hey, Rory," Aeon says, chuffing softly as they press against her side, looking around from this new point of view. They're half-dressed already, in uniform from the waist down, compression shirt sleeves shoved up to their elbows. "I keep seeing you up here. This is nice."

She laughs, knocking her shoulder into his softly. "Yeah, when you can keep your balance. It's, uh, it's quiet."

Below them, a few of their packmates wander onto the stage. Rain stretches his wrists, rolling his neck as Swiss climbs up onto his platform. He's right under the two of them.

"You wanna cause some trouble, Rory?" Aeon asks, free hand slipping into their pants pocket and pulling out a handful of... something. It's dim up here, but Aurora can see the metallic copper glint of a grucifix, of the stylized word Ghost. They've got a bunch of the picks they're going to throw out at the end of the night, eyes glittering with something mischievous.

She grins, the gap between her front teeth on full display as she carefully reaches out, grabbing a few of the picks from them. "Rainy or Swiss?" she asks, gesturing between the two ghouls below them.

Aeon hums thoughtfully. "Swiss is too easy," he whispers. "He's right there. Get Rain."

Carefully balancing herself on the scaffolding, Aurora closes one eye, pick squeezed between two fingers, and throws. It's so small she loses sight of it, watching carefully at Rain's reaction, if there is one.

They watch from above as Rain's brow furrows, glancing down and pushing at something with his boot. The tiniest speck of black disappears under his sole, and Aeon grins wildly. "Missed," they hiss with laughter.

"Oh, knock it off," she hisses back, suddenly going stock still as she feels eyes on her. She slowly turns back towards stage left. Her stomach drops, and she can almost feel it hit the stage below them.

Rain's staring up at the two of them, a smile slowly growing on his face. He makes a show of bending down to pick up the pick Aurora had just thrown at him.

"Oh shit," Aeon whispers, their two toned eyes wide.

"Fuck," Aurora agrees, waiting for Rain to make them known, call them out on being somewhere they're not supposed to be.

Instead, Rain just smiles, gesturing almost imperceptibly towards Swiss. Aurora echoes his expression, shifting on the scaffolding until she's looking straight down at the multi-ghoul, another pick in hand.

She throws it, and she knows she can't hear it, too small and light, but her brain provides her with the most satisfying "thunk" as the pick hits the top of Swiss's head, bouncing off and clattering against his platform. He shouts, wheeling around and looking for the source. Rain leans back and cackles, watching the multi-ghoul looking around frantically.

Aeon and Aurora can't hold back their laughter, and Swiss looks straight up. His growl sounds weird under his human glamour. "You two!" he yells, but there's no real heat in it. "Gremlins, the two of you I swear!"

Aurora cackles, throwing another one down, delighting in the way he sputters.

#let aurora be a Menace #she deserves it #dot's writing #aurora ghoulette #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #mushy may 2024

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beersangel · 11 hours

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priorities ₊˚⊹♡

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

summary: matt gets busy with work and forgets his priorities, leaving his gf, y/n, feeling lonely and sad.

warnings: angsttttt :(

Matt Sturniolo had always been a man with ambition, his mind constantly buzzing with ideas and projects for not only his and his brothers’ channel but also his personal project. But lately, his work had consumed him entirely, leaving little room for anything else, especially his girlfriend, Y/N.

Y/N had been patient, understanding the demands of Matt's career. But as hours turned into days, and days into weeks of him barely talking to her, she found herself feeling neglected and lonely. The late nights filming, the canceled plans, the missed calls—it all added up, chipping away at the foundation of their relationship.

One evening, as Y/N sat alone in her apartment, staring at her phone, frustration boiled over into tears. She clicked on her boyfriend’s contact, the pircture of him sleeping in her arms popping up on her phone, making her sigh with tears streaming down with face, she wiped them and took a deep breath, clicking on the “call” button, a few rings later he finally picked up the phone.

"Hey," he said, his tone lacking its usual warmth.

"Matt, we need to talk," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Matt sighed heavily. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something important."

Y/N felt a pang of hurt at his dismissive tone. "No, Matt, it can't wait. This is important too."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt's voice softened slightly, the term of endearment making her miss him even more but she could still sense the impatience in his tone.

"I miss you," Y/N sniffles, her voice trembling with emotion. "I miss us. It feels like you're always too busy for me, like I'm not even a priority anymore."

Another pause, longer this time. Y/N could almost hear the gears turning in Matt's mind as he searched for the right words to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said finally, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've just been swamped with filming and working on my project lately. You know how important this is to me."

Y/N felt her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I understand that, Matt, I really do. But that doesn't mean you can just ignore me whenever it's convenient for you. I need you too."

Matt let out a sigh, his tone defensive. "I'm not ignoring you, Y/N. I'm just trying to juggle everything at once. It's not easy, you know."

Y/N felt a surge of anger. "I'm not asking for much, Matt. I just want to feel like I matter to you, like you actually want to spend time with me."

The conversation escalated into a heated argument, accusations flying back and forth as they both struggled to make themselves heard over the phone. Y/N's frustration increased with each passing second, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to convey the depth of her hurt and disappointment until she just couldn't take it anymore.

“if it’s going to keep being like this matt, then I’m not sure we could keep doing this anymore” y/n finalized, her heart thudding in her chest, she couldn’t believe what she had just said, but she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she had to say it.

silence greeted her from the other line.

With a choked sob, she hung up the phone, feeling utterly defeated, her chest felt constricted, as if something was sucking all the air out of her, she felt like she already lost him.

Alone in her apartment, Y/N crumbled. The weight of her emotions pressed down on her chest, suffocating her with a sense of loss and longing. She buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely as she allowed herself to feel the depth of her pain.

10 minutes later, there was a knock on the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She hesitated, wondering who could be there at this hour. When she peered through the peephole, her heart skipped a beat.

It was him.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she opened the door, her cheeks stained with tears. Matt's expression was one of guilt and desperation as he took in her tear-streaked face.

“don’t break up with me” he almost whispered. “I’ve been such a fucking idiot please don’t leave me” he said shakily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.

her eyes welled with tears as she looked up at him, not knowing what to say.

"Oh, baby.." he murmured, stepping forward and reaching out to cup her face in his hands. "I'm so so sorry." he apologized, his thumbs swiping at the tears falling from her beautiful eyes.

Y/N felt a rush of conflicting emotions, she wanted to push his hands away, to scream at him and tell him to get out but every violent thought seemed to disappear when Matt pulled her into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. Her arms stayed at her sides, she wanted to stay angry, to make him understand the hurt he had caused, but she also craved the familiarity of his touch, the reassurance of his presence.

As Matt kissed her forehead repeatedly, whispering apologies in a shaky voice, Y/N felt her resolve crumbling. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear again.

Finally, Matt led her to the couch, settling her onto his lap as he continued to shower her tear stained cheeks with gentle kisses.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Matt said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot what truly matters. you don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to be treated this way, god I am so fucking stupid for hurting you like this but I promise you, from now on, you will always come first. I'll never let this happen again, please forgive me.”

Y/N felt a surge of hope as she listened to Matt's words, feeling the weight of resentment lifting from her chest. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes closing as she softly nodded.

“can I kiss you?” he whispered gently, his fingers slowly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he gazes into her eyes.

“yes” she softly spoke, her eyes flitting between his as she breathed out shakily.

Matt leaned in, barely grazing her lips with his own, feeling her gentle response as she leaned in closer, her hand finding its place on his chest as he softly pressed his lips to hers, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

it was a kiss of reassurance and consolation, they both needed it, craved it from one another.

they softly pulled away, resting their foreheads against each other.

“I love you so fucking much and I am so fucking sorry” he apologizes again, his voice heavy with guilt.

y/n moves to rest her chin on his shoulder as her arms go around his waist, squeezing him to her.

“I love you too matt..I forgive you” she says, kissing his shoulder before burying her face into the familiar spot between his neck and collarbone, inhaling softly as he drew small patterns on her back.

In that moment, as they held each other close, she felt a sense of peace wash over her, knowing that no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

author’s note: I looooove writing angst I love it !!!!

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fandom

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sissylittlefeather · 1 day

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Your Love's Been A Long Time Coming: Chapter 5

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long. I've been dealing with a lot of writers block and I'm honestly not even sure this is any good. I have so much for Elvis and Viv that I want to get to. I hope people continue to read it. Or I'll just write it for me. But if you do read it, please please please leave a comment. I live for comments.

Need to catch up? Here is my masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, oral sex (m receiving), swallowing, teensy bit of angst

Word count: ~2.4k

Oh, Elvis, she thinks. Why won't you come and rescue me from myself?

******

In December of 1962, Elvis brings Priscilla over from Germany in an attempt to stop thinking about Vivian. He hosts a New Year's Eve party and invites everyone, including her. He's hoping that seeing Viv and Priscilla in the same room will help him realize that Viv is not what he's looking for. He's been thinking about it a lot and honestly, she's too independent anyway. She probably wouldn't make a good wife. Priscilla, on the other hand, is young enough to still be molded and she seems ready to do whatever he asks. Isn't that what a wife should be? He repeats it like a mantra: not Vivian. Not Vivian. Not Vivian.

At the party, Priscilla and Viv reconnect briefly. He forgot they had known each other in Germany. Elvis nods and smiles awkwardly and then she turns to move around the party, leaving him with Cilla by his side. For the most part, he's successful in staying focused on Cilla. He catches glimpses of Viv briefly as she walks through the crowd, always with a drink in her hand.

Finally, he finds himself next to her at the table with the food in the dining room with no one else around.

"You're really serious about this thing with Priscilla?" Viv asks with her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. Why?"

"She's a teenager."

"She makes sense to me, Viv." Vivian shrugs and concedes.

"I can't argue with that. She's not very complicated, so I believe that she makes sense to you." Elvis turns to look at her suddenly. Is she jealous?

"That's not fair, Viv."

"Is it not? I'm sorry. I just think you need someone more like..." She stops short of what she was going to say. He has an idea of how that sentence would've ended, though. "It doesn't matter. You like simplicity."

Something between rage and frustration bubbles up inside him.

"Which one of my friends are you fucking tonight, Viv?" He immediately regrets saying it as her mouth pops open and her eyes get glassy. "I'm sorry-"

"No, that's fair. Maybe Red." She turns and walks away from him quickly.

"Viv!" He calls after her but she doesn't turn around. "Goddamnit."

"You okay?" Elvis hears Cilla and works to recover his facade, turning to face her.

"Oh yeah, it's nothing, baby." She smiles and he is filled with the desire to take the stairs two at a time and go to bed. Alone.

******

Vivian sits in the bathroom trying to compose herself after her conversation with Elvis. She's a joke to him. And this girl, this Priscilla, she's what he wants. She'll never be that. She wasn't that sweet and demure even when she was 17.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door and she wipes her tears, assessing her makeup in the mirror, and opens it. It's Red. But despite what she said earlier, she pushes past him and goes straight to the front door. She has no desire to see Elvis and Priscilla kiss at midnight.

******

Elvis and Vivian avoid each other as much as possible before the spring of '63 when they both pick up the film Fun in Acapulco. Viv still hasn't managed to land another speaking part, but her work as an extra keeps her paid enough to eat. And when it doesn't, Elvis makes sure she's taken care of.

Filming the same movie means being on set together and after their last encounter, it's pretty awkward. Still, when Elvis finds himself in a particular predicament, she's the only one he can find to help.

His least favorite part of this movie is the pair of tiny blue shorts they have him wearing in several scenes. They're a lot like the ones from Blue Hawaii, but for some reason these just won't come off, especially when they're wet.

That's how Elvis finds himself in this situation. He has to go the bathroom. Badly. But they're in the middle of filming. Once the director finally calls cut, he's absolutely ready to burst. He makes his way to his trailer, frantically trying to figure out how to get his shorts off. Thats when he sees Vivian.

"Viv!" She stops dead in her tracks, recognizing his voice. She turns to him.

"What, Elvis?"

"I need your help." His desperation is palpable.

"With what?"

"Just come with me, please." He grabs her hand and practically drags her to his trailer. Once inside, he shuts the door and turns to her. "I have to pee so bad I might die."

"Okay? What does that have to-"

"I can't get these fucking shorts off, Viv."

"Oh, shit."

"I'm going to piss myself."

"Well, they're already wet." He looks at her with panic on his face.

"Are you gonna help me or not?!" She tries to focus and make sure she doesn't laugh.

"Yes, come here." She tries to tug on the shorts, but they don't budge.

"What if I kinda lift them off of me before you pull."

"Yeah, let's try that." Vivian gets on her knees in front of him to pull when he says to. He looks down at her on her knees in front of him and looks at the ceiling. He whispers to himself.

"Don't get hard. Don't get hard. Don't get hard."

"What's that?" Viv asks.

"Oh! Nothing." He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on what's happening.

"Okay, I'm gonna count to three. You lift them and I'll pull down. 1... 2... 3!" She gives his shorts a firm tug and they come down to his thighs. What neither of them realized about their plan is that pulling the shorts down means his dick is going to be right in her face.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." She tries to look away, but he whimpers, trying really hard not to pee on her. Finally, she gets the shorts down his legs and off and he runs into the bathroom. She sits in the living area with his shorts in her hand, laughing quietly.

He opens the door a little and hollers to her.

"Toss me the shorts. I think I can get them back on." But he can't. After about 12 minutes of struggling, he comes out with them stuck on his thighs, his hands covering himself. "Can you...?"

"Yes, I will. Come here." He waddles over to her with his hand still covering himself. He goes back to praying his body won't respond to the image of Vivian on her knees in front of him. He's doing okay, until she gets the shorts up higher and she puts her hand on him gently to try to stuff him into the shorts. He whimpers at her touch and becomes noticeably hard.

"God, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay; it happens, Elvis." She keeps trying to pull the shorts up despite his massive rock-hard erection.

Just then, there's a sharp knock on the door.

"Elvis, we need you back on set. Now." It's the director.

"Uh, just a second?"

"We don't have any more seconds. Wrap up what you're doing and come out. Now." They can tell by the director's tone that he assumes Elvis must be in there having sex with someone. Elvis is annoyed. That would be a much better excuse than what's actually happening.

He looks at Vivian frantically, his dick still standing at full attention with her on her knees trying to tuck it into the shorts. She whispers.

"It's not gonna fit like this. Can you... fix it?"

"Make it go away, you mean? I don't really have time to use my hand. And I can't think it away. That never works for me." It does work sometimes, but he knows it won't with the image of Viv on her knees.

"That settles it, then."

"Settles wh- OH MY GOD VIVIAN." Elvis falls backwards and braces himself as Vivian wraps her mouth around his cock and starts moving. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

He moans softly as she pulls off of him to explain.

"You need this gone. This'll work and it'll be faster than your hand. You want me to stop?" She looks up at him with his dick in her hand.

"No..."

"This is purely functional." She pulls him deep into her throat and sucks on him. His eyes roll back with the sensation of her warm little mouth on him. He's dreamed of this for so long, but the reality is better than he ever could've imagined. Her mouth moves skillfully up and down, complemented by her hand moving his foreskin back and forth. She licks a circle around the head and then deep throats him again. He grunts as his orgasm begins to build and he knows he won't last much longer.

The director pounds on the door again and hollers something, but Elvis is incapable of listening. Viv is working him with her mouth and hand, pulling out all her tricks to get him off as quickly as possible.

"Oh, god, Viv... that's so good..." He moans as she gets him closer and closer to the edge. He's gripping the counter behind him so tightly that his knuckles are white. She pulls back off of him and looks up at him with her big blue eyes, licking the precum off the tip of him.

"Let go, baby. You have to cum. Now." Something about her telling him what to do pushes him the last little bit and he tumbles into a mind-blowing orgasm, shooting his release down her throat. She swallows it easily, sucking until he relaxes, and then stops.

"Holy fuck, Viv..."

"Ah ha!" She cheers as she's finally able to get his shorts up and tuck his package into the front. Standing up, he looks into her eyes and wants to kiss her so badly. Still, despite what just happened, he's not sure he can.

"We're gonna talk about this later."

"Okay."

Just as the director is about to knock again, Elvis opens the door and walks out.

"What? I had to go to the bathroom."

******

Viv waits about ten minutes and then makes her way back to where she's supposed to be filming, in shock over what just happened. And now he wants to talk about it? What is there to say?

******

Elvis doesn't see Vivian again until the summer after the shorts incident. He can't decide if she's purposefully avoiding him or just busy, but she stays away. Part of him wonders if she's avoiding the conversation they were supposed to have after the blowjob. It never happened.

In July, Elvis is in Memphis just before he leaves for California to meet his costars and start filming his next movie. He comes across Vivian on Beale street.

"Viv!" When she sees him, she looks for an escape and doesn't see one, so she waits for him to catch up to where she is. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've just been really busy."

"Look, I really need to talk to you. I'm leaving for California at 3. Will you come with me to Graceland? Please?" She looks around again for an exit and then looks back at him.

"Yeah."

"Good!" He grabs her hand and practically drags her to his car. They make small talk about what they've both been doing for the whole drive. Once they get to Graceland, Elvis settles them into the tv room.

"Are we ever going to talk about the head you gave me?" Viv shifts in her seat, obviously uncomfortable.

"What is there to say, Elvis? I sucked your dick to get it back in your shorts. That's it."

"That's it?!" He thinks back to the incredible orgasm he had at her doing. He wouldn't mind it happening again.

"Yeah? That's it." All of a sudden, something else bubbles up inside him and he stands up.

"VIVIAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"Wrong with me?!"

"Do I really mean so little to you that you can suck my cock and have absolutely no feelings about it?!"

"It was just to-"

"Get my shorts on. I know. Why am I just a sex object to you? Something to play with when you've been drinking?"

"What?" He's not talking about the blowjob anymore.

"Why do I mean nothing to you?"

"Elvis... I-"

"Why can't you see how much I-"

"Will you let me finish?!" He sits back down on the couch seething. "You don't mean nothing to me. You mean too much to me."

"Too much? What does that mean?" Vivian rolls her eyes and he's somewhere between wanting to slap her and wanting to kiss her.

"Elvis. Do you remember what I told you when you got in the fight with Joe?"

"Which part?"

"The part about how if I let myself, I could fall in love with you?" His heart pounds wildly in his chest.

"Yeah?"

"I've wanted you since the moment I met you. And not just for sex. Sex is like... I don't even know what it means for me but it's not love and you... I..." His stomach turns over and he's overcome with a need to take her in his arms and show her what love can be. Is she finally admitting what he's felt for all these years?

"Viv." He whispers it and cups her cheek in his hand. She leans into his touch. Just then, there's a knock on the door. Elvis curses loudly and then gets up to answer it. It's the Colonel.

"My boy, we need to head to the airport. You need to be in California soon." Elvis nods and then turns to Vivian, who has followed him up to the foyer. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"We will finish this when I get back, okay?"

She nods.

But he doesn't come back. Not this version of him anyway. The costar he goes to California to meet is a woman named Ann Margaret. And when he meets her, Vivian and all her complications become a distant memory.

But Priscilla? Priscilla won't go down so easily. She moved to the United States to marry him and she won't be deterred by the small matter of him being in love with another woman.

Elvis is trapped between three women and Vivian? She's the quietest of the three with what she assumes is the smallest claim on his heart.

She fades into the background easily, watching the feud that happens between Ann Margaret and Priscilla, her love for him never diminishing, but they never finish the conversation that they started.

******

Until next time!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x oc #Elvis x Vivian #Elvis Presley x Vivian choquette #your loves been a long time coming #ylbaltc

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weird-an · 3 days

Text

"What would you do to save me?" House asks, barging into Wilson's office. He doesn't look particularly worried, but he shuts the door behind him. So, maybe he really is in trouble - a usual Wednesday.

"Pretty sure I lied to the police for you," Wilson says, trying to shake off bitter memories, looking up from the file he's been reading. "Where's the body?"

It's a joke - at least Wilson hopes so.

"Right in front of you!" House gestures at himself. Very dramatic. "The patient's husband thinks I hit on her! Apparently that equals to hitting me!"

"Did you?" It's unlikely, but nothing is impossible with House. Also the thought makes Wilson kinda itchy.

"I don't fuck my patients, that's your thing!" House rolls his eyes.

There's a knock at the door before Wilson can answer that he doesn't often sleep with his patients - which is a really bad answer. House doesn't call him the office slut for nothing.

"That's him!" Suddenly, House is in front of him. He's so close. While he doesn't have any respect for personal space, they never really touch. Which is good, because Wilson finds the thought scary. What if he couldn’t stop?

"Don't panic," House says, voice low and oddly tender.

"Why-" House swallows the question, slams his lips against Wilson's. It feels like a fever dream, way too surreal to be true. Way too good.

He licks across House's lips, wants to get more of that sweet taste of his mouth. They kiss and it might be the best worst thing to ever happen.

"Shit, sorry- I thought …" Wilson can't really listen to what the stranger is saying, because his pulse thunders in his ears and House is nearly on his lap, fingers buried in Wilson's hair, tongue hot against his own.

They break apart. Wilson blinks. The guy is gone.

House grins. "Well, that certainly worked out well."

Wilson's heart sinks. It's been a distraction. Of course House would use him to get out of trouble. Of course Wilson would do whatever it takes.

"That was Larry by the way," House says. "The new janitor."

Wilson snorts, trying to hide the relief flooding through his body - as much as the anger that he fell for that. It subsides quickly, because House's hand is still stroking Wilson's hair, he realizes.

"Did you trick this poor guy to … make a move?"

"Oh, Jimmy, I've been hittin' on you since we met," House says, slowly getting up from Wilson's lap.

Wilson gapes at him.

"Bring some beer and we can finish what we started," House says, leering at Wilson's crotch where his pants are way too tight.

Wilson stares after him. He isn't sure what just happened, but now he's got the taste of it and he wants more. In the end, he's just a selfish bastard - just like House.

#hilson #gregory house #james wilson #house x wilson #house md #hatecrimes md

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 day

Text

Reckoner: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Your world is turned upside down when you get in trouble for something you didn't even do. The entire team is in uproar over this but Hotch says he will take care of it. Can he? Or are you doomed to live out the rest of your days in misery?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

Spencer hasn't stopped thinking about you even after the team arrived on Long Island. He's been stuck in Penelope's office with nothing to do but think about you. Detective Gil Hardesty met Emily and Derek at the newest crime scene.

"It's pretty much how we found it. There are no signs of forced entry," Gil says and leads the duo into the house.

There is blood on the walls that belongs to Ben but it doesn't look like nothing was taken from the house.

"It says in the file that Heather has a daughter. Where is she?" Emily asks the detective.

"She moved to San Diego to live with her real father. Ben and Heather have only been married a couple of years."

"So, Heather came in and dropped her shopping bags, cell phone, and her keys but not her coat." Emily ats out what Heather might have done when she arrived home. She turns the lights on but they don't come on. "She turns on the lights but they don't work because the phone and electricity were cut. Something in this room attracted her attention."

Derek walks over to a big blood stain on the ground and notices something in the pattern.

"What is it?" the detective asks when he notices

"The marks in the blood look like a camera tripod. Serial killers, especially sexual sadists, often document their kill."

"Sexual sadists usually torture their victims while they're still alive," Emily says. "You haven't found any conflicting DNA?"

"No. There are no prints or fibers. There's nothing here."

"Nobody heard any shots?"

The detective's phone rings and he looks relieved at the news he gets.

"Heather was just found wandering the streets half an hour ago. She's at Brookside General."

"Get JJ over there," Derek says and Emily leaves the crime scene. "A killer this sophisticated doesn't leave a living witness without a reason."

JJ immediately heads over to the hospital to talk to Heather before she has a chance to talk to anyone else. Heather is still out of it but she is able to see JJ and talk to her. She knocks on the door and walks in once she hears a quiet "come in".

"Heather, my name is Agent Jennifer Jareau. I have some questions for you if it's okay." Heather nods so JJ pulls a chair next to her bed. "When you came home and tried to turn the lights on, what did you do next?"

It takes Heather a moment or two to think of her answer.

"I saw a light like a flash. I opened the door and Ben was tied to a chair. I think he was dead." She takes a deep breath in and lets it out shakily. "There was another flash. It blinded me for a moment."

"Ddi you see your attacker?"

"No."

"Did he say anything?"

"No. I heard this noise."

"What kind of noise?"

"Sawing. I watched him cut Ben's hand off. Why didn't he kill me?" she cries.

JJ's phone rings and she gives Heather an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. Excuse me." She gets up and walks to the window for some kind of privacy. "What's up, Garcia?"

"I've been getting to know Heather. I can't tell you her favorite Beatle, but I can tell you she was living la vida unhappy."

"What did you find?"

"Her ex-husband took her daughter Allison out of school mid-term. After that, Heather cut a check for $5,000 to a place called Lewis, Bell, & Peters six days ago."

"Is that a law firm?"

"Family law."

"Hey, how's Spence doing?"

Penelope looks over at Spencer who has been staring at his hands for the past twenty minutes trying not to cry.

"Not good. I'll talk to him."

"Thanks." JJ hangs up and turns to Heather. "Mrs. Vanderwaal, did you move your daughter out of school at mid-term?"

"Yes."

"After that, you filed for divorce from Ben. This man left you alive for a reason. I need to know if these two things are connected."

"A few months ago, I found a picture of Allison on Ben's phone. She was naked."

"Where was it taken?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Did you confront him?"

"Yes. He claimed that Allison sent it to him by mistake. That she meant to send it to another student at her school. It's called sexting," she sighs.

"What did Allison say?"

"She said Ben took it but she lies. Allison is a liar. She caused us a lot of trouble."

"She wasn't lying about this, was she?"

This is when Heather starts to cry.

"No," she sobs.

Heather didn't give much information to JJ, but Rossi is hoping to gain more information from Ben's body at the medical examiner's office.

"The hand removal is less than surgical," the ME says. That means whoever cut it off is either impatient or doesn't know how to cut into a body. "He used a basic double-toothed saw."

"So, the guy we're looking for has no medical training."

"Not the kind I've had."

"One in the heart and one in the brain," Rossi studies the bullet holes. "It's close range. The second one was right up behind the ear. How about gun residue?"

"Surprisingly little."

Maybe it's because the killer was using a .22 small caliber with a small discharge. It's certainly possible. Rossi grabs the file and looks through it to study what kind of bullets are used. He does a double-take and looks closer at one of the images.

"This is weird," he mumbles. "Ballistics can't match the bullets to a gun because there were no rifling marks on the bullet. There's only one explanation for that. This was done by a zip gun."

Rossi, JJ, Emily, and Derek meet back at the police department just in time for Hotch to walk through the doors. The current case can be put on hold for five minutes because they're all worried about you and what's going to happen to you.

"Hey, how did it go? What's going to happen to Y/N?" Derek is the first to ask.

"She's in real trouble. I don't know if I can get her out of this one."

"Why do they think she did it?" Emily wonders.

"I don't know. They won't release the information to me. We haven't been invited in. It's not Federal, and they're not going to discuss details of an open investigation."

"This is Y/N we're talking about here!"

"I know this. I'm trying, Morgan."

"I can make anything Federal. I can try and help," JJ says.

"Thanks. Where are we with this case?"

"Not much into it. We found Heather wandering a few towns over. She's in the hospital now. She told me that Ben took naked pictures of her daughter which is why her daughter lives in San Diego with her biological dad."

"If anyone had the motive to kill Ben, it was Heather's ex-husband," Detective Gil says.

"No, he was in San Diego at the time of the murder, and he has no connection to the other two victims."

"I might have something," Rossi says. "In all cases, the .22 caliber bullets had no rifling marks. Without the barrel being rifled, the bullets would have very little velocity. He would have to shoot his victim point-blank. This guy is using a zip gun. If you know what you're doing, a piece of plumbing pipe of a kid's bicycle pump can be turned into a gun. One in the heart, one in the head. Untraceable, expandable bullets tell me without question that all of these kills were strictly business."

"You mean a hitman? What about the postmortem mutilation?"

"A contract sometimes includes extras. The camera isn't for sexual gratification. It's for proof of death. We could be looking for two people. Maybe more."

"Excuse me," Gil says and walks away from the group.

"I might be able to hit on some old contacts but I'll need to do it alone," Rossi says.

"Contacts?" Emily asks. "Do we want to know?"

"Probably not."

Rossi leaves but the rest stay to discuss the case some more.

"The removal of the hands is as specific as Rita's condition was when she was found, and just as specific as the removal of Bill's genitals."

"There's a message in the mutilations the unsub wants us to know," Hotch says.

There is a chime coming from one of the computers, and Derek accepts the video chat invitation from Penelope. Everyone can see the look of sadness on Spencer's face. He looks up and does a double-take when he sees Hotch.

"Hotch. What happened with Y/N? Is she okay?"

"She's okay but she's in more trouble than I thought. They have a lot of evidence against her but they won't release it to me or anyone that's not on the case. We're trying to push past the red tape."

Spencer looks like he's going to cry but he's not going to do it in front of everyone. Instead, he scoots further from the camera so that Penelope can take over.

"I got something here that might help us with that. Bill was involved in a serial rape case all involving minors, and it never went to trial."

"What about Rita?"

"She's a former social worker. She was fired from the DCFS for gross negligence. In one of her cases, a seven-year-old boy starved to death."

"That explains why Rita was so emaciated when she was found."

"If all the victims were indicated in crimes against children, then we've found a connection," Derek says. "One of the unsubs has access to the crimes of the victims and probably works in the justice system. Garcia?"

"On it."

"Alright, we know what the victims have in common, so we just need to find out who they have in common."

"Wait, this social worker and the suspected rape case were matters of record. Ben's relationship with his stepdaughter is not," Penelope says.

"Unless the stepdaughter told someone else."

"I'll call Rossi," Emily says and walks away.

"I'll have the daughter flown in," Detective Gil says.

When Penelope hangs up the phone, Spencer actually breaks down in tears. She doesn't know what to do or say to make him feel better so she just brings him in for a hug instead.

"What if they actually convict her?" he sniffles. "What if she goes to prison for the rest of her life?"

"That's not going to happen."

"I should be there right now."

"They're not going to allow visitors right now unless you're her lawyer. Spencer, Y/N is smart. She knows she's innocent and that has to be enough right now."

"Hotch says there is a lot of evidence against her. Like what? What could they possibly have? If she's not here, she's with me."

"I have enough faith for the both of us that she is going to be okay. There's nothing we can do right now until we know more. Just wait until Hotch gets back from New York. He'll be able to get more information."

Spencer's scared to go home knowing you're not going to be there. He hates sleeping alone.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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awkward-tension-art · 9 hours

Text

Medical Marvel

I’ve had this idea for a series floating in my head for a while, so…consider this a potential preview? Possibly? if anyone wants a more original series?

Clones: Rex, Fives, Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair

Cw: Before order 66, Mostly fluff, some talk of corporate corruption, Padme is a good friend, a single mention of smut for Crosshair, Minors DNI

Not proofread I die like a MAN

Your lover had just returned to Coruscant from a mission in the outer ridges. He came to your science lab to visit you at work when one of your colleagues directed him to your office. Before he entered, he happened to overhear your conversation with Senator Amidala.

“Athakam?”

“No, too corporate.” You spoke to Padme through your holocom, “Also they’re still neutral.”

“Kirgalis?” Padme offered another medical company name.

“No, they’ll raise the price 400 times more than it takes to manufacture.” You responded sounding frustrated.

“You can’t keep turning down every company,” The senator had a slight laugh to her words, “You have to find someone to help you with this research. If it goes through and the medicine is successful, do you know how wonderful that would be?”

Medicine? Your clone lover didn’t know you were working on a type of medicine. You were performing research on clone health, but he had no idea the main goal was medicine.

“I know Padme…” It sounded like you had your face in your hands, “I just…I want to make it affordable for the clones. Medicine that can slow their aging to a normal rate, that should be affordable. Especially after everything the clones sacrifice for the Republic.”

“You’ll probably have many clones from different battalions confess their love for you because of this. You know that right?” Padme teased you.

“And all I want is the love of one specific clone,” You spoke about him so sweetly, “I hope he returns from the outer rims soon. I’ll surprise him with the research. Tell him how this medicine works. How he can live a normal life for a normal length of time.”

“Will you tell him how you named it after him?”

“Soon.” You sighed, “I need to get back to work, Padme. Thank you for letting me brainstorm.”

Rex

Will fall in love all over again

He's going to try and pretend he didn't hear the conversation, but clones can't lie for shit so you know something is up

That's when he will admit he overheard the conversation

"Mesh'la...What I heard...is it real?"

When you confirm it for him, he's going to pull you into a very deep and very passionate kiss

Normally he's more professional of course, but right now, he's so overcome with emotion

A medicine that gives him and his brothers a chance at a normal life after the war?

It's the greatest gift anyone could ever give him

He knows realistically that there is still an entire process of getting the medicine approved, talking with medical companies, manufacturing and a lot of moving parts that he has no idea goes into medical research

He's going to support you in every way possible, all while falling more and more in love with you

Fives

May genuinely open the door and want to marry you then and there

You, the love of his life, have researched and found a way to make medicine to slow a clones aging to a normal rate?

and you want it affordable for all of his brothers?

Fives is going to worship the ground where you walk

As soon as that door is open his lips are ON you

He doesn't even pretend like he doesn't know, he'll be admitting it between kisses

"Mesh'la...Cyare...I love you...I love you so much!"

He's not going to care if your fellow scientists see him damn near making out with you

He may be a bit optimistic on the whole...making medicine process. He'll think it'll be an easy process so you'll have to remind him that patience is important

Even if it takes a couple years, he's so proud and so happy

Echo (Clone Force 99)

More reserved in his happiness and his affection

He'll knock on the door, and pretend he didn't hear anything

He doesn't want to ruin the surprise! He knows you'll share with him everything when your more confident it'll work out

He is WELL AWARE what scientific advancement without reigns can do, so he's actually very relieved that your vetting your potential manufacturers

However, he is beyond happy that your so focused on helping the clones

Echo actually does well pretending to be surprised when you finally tell him about your research and the medicine your making

this man will actually die when you also tell him you've named your research after him

He'll be so honored, and just kiss you all over your face

Also great at keeping the research secret if you can't go public with it yet

Hunter

Like Echo, he hides the fact that he overheard

He doesn't act an differently, I'd say

He knows you want to surprise him, so he's going to wait, and pretend like you caught him off guard when you tell him everything

But you bet your ass he's fulling in love with you about this

He's damn near hypnotized by your compassion for clones

Plus? the idea of living a much longer life with you? the both of you being together to grow old at the same time?

His heart is RACING at the idea

However, unlike the others, I think Hunter knows to a degree that there is some level of danger to you once you go public with your research and medicine

Kamino doesn't like it when someone gives agency to their 'property'

Someone managed to find a way to override clones sped-up aging? Yea, Kamino may not be happy about that.

So...Hunter may actually become somewhat more protective once you tell him

Wrecker

He's going to ask what you were talking about, won't hide the fact that he heard

He's curious! he might not entirely 'get' the science of it, but he gets the gist of whats going on.

You researched and found a way to slow clones aging so they can live a normal life span? Yea he understands!

and he's so SO happy!

Ecstatic completely

Will go to the rest of his brothers and tell them the amazing news!

He's proud! and so in love!

Because of you, he and the rest of his brothers now have the choice to live their lives however they wish at the end of the war

They can have families, learn a trade, become something other than soldiers

and so can he! with you! you gave him more time with you!

Tech

You think he doesn't know what you've been researching?

He most likely already had a vague idea, even if you tried to hide it

While he is absolutely so proud and so happy, he's going to step in and help you now

He'll do some research on potential manufacturers, vet medical companies and find ways to make this medicine affordable for all clones

Tech is going to be very interested in the creation process

How did you begin this research? what components have you used? Where did you get the idea for such a protocol?

He'll listen to you talk about your research for hours

It doesn't even matter its for the clones! He's just so insanely proud and in love with you over such an achievement

The fact that this medicine can allow him to live a long life with you? someone who he adores? Thats a plus

Crosshair (Warning, there is slight smut)

He's not going to dance around the topic. He'll just tell you straight up that he heard the entire call

That doesn't mean he isn't happy! he is!

But now he needs to actually think about the future. what he wants besides being a soldier.

I mean, your research and medicine is giving him and his brothers an incredible chance at normal lives after the war!

It's going to hit him that 'yes, I can have a life that doesn't revolve around the battlefield' and that honestly scares him

But, despite that, he's going to grab your hand and keep you in your office so he could...show you how happy he is that you've done such an incredible thing

He knows you've worked hard, and to find out its for him and his brothers? it makes his heart flutter

and knowing you've named your research after him as well? Will fluster him

But, like Hunter, he knows that by being so selfless, you're a target for greedy companies that want your research

He knows how cutthroat competition for profits among corporations can be

Crosshair might actually step away from Clone Force 99 in order to act as a bodyguard for you

at least until he knows that you'll be safe. He loves you too much to be careless with your safety

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callsign-mayhem · 21 hours

Text

heartbreak feels so good (part 2)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 3861 CW: Shitty ex-boyfriends, slow burn, angst, fluff

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

The eerie silence of your apartment woke you that morning. Either it was never usually this quiet, or you just hadn’t noticed it when Elijah stayed over. There had been a few occasions over the weekend where you’d noticed differences like this, and you wondered when and if it got any easier to deal with.

You had awoken with your childhood teddy bear tucked beneath your chin. Somewhat disoriented, you sat up and glanced around the room. Your phone was charging on your nightstand with a glass of water and a Post-It next to it. That’s when it hit you that Bradley had been here the night before. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa during your wallowing sesh, which meant he’d carried you to bed. Ted was staring at you accusingly as though he’d noticed how your heartbeat stuttered once, twice, and then righted itself.

Burning with curiosity, you reached over and grabbed the orange Post-It, reading what you could only assume were Bradley’s words hungrily. His handwriting was atrocious, as wonky as his voice was raspy.

Getting Starbs. Be back soon x

Well, that explained that one. For the second morning in a row, you’d woken up feeling rough, although you didn’t feel as bad as yesterday. Yesterday, crawling out of bed had felt more like crawling out of the pits of hell. Today, you knew that Bradley was coming back with coffee—after having slept over—and while this was confusing, it gave you something to think about aside from Elijah.

You took a cold shower to reset your central nervous system, using all your fancy products in an attempt to make yourself feel better. It only partially worked, so you decided to put on one of your favourite outfits, which had the tendency to make you appear more confident than you actually felt. Now seemed as good a time as any to buy into the fake it till you make it movement.

When you ventured into the living room, you noticed that the nest you had built on the sofa was still intact, although it had been moved around slightly to serve as a makeshift bed. This must have been where Bradley spent the night after he’d tucked you in. Something about this was hard to accept, and as you stood there staring at the pillows and duvet, you tried to come up with an explanation as to why he’d stayed. As you cycled through the possibilities, the same part of your brain that believed you weren’t worthy of anyone better than Elijah started trying to convince you that Bradley was going to do the same thing he had. Or worse, he was just pitying you.

These were the kinds of tricks your brain liked to play on you, and usually, it was successful, but this time you were interrupted. Someone was knocking on your front door, presumably Bradley, who didn’t have a key. It dawned on you too late that you’d given Bradley your spare yesterday evening when he’d told you he might go out and grab coffee in the morning, and you were turning the handle before you could really register what this meant.

It had only been a few days, but you’d forgotten just how disarming Elijah was. He was standing in the hallway with a bunch of beautiful red roses, dressed in your favourite outfit of his: black cargos, one of his band tees and his beat-up Docs. You could smell his aftershave from where you stood, and he’d obviously had a haircut and beard trim before coming to see you.

Both relief and dread flooded you simultaneously, and you were torn between slamming the door in his face or collapsing into his arms, flowers be damned.

‘El,’ you croaked. ‘What’re you doing here?’

He smiled sheepishly, holding out the flowers so you could take them. They smelled like second chances and summer romance. ‘Went to that market we used to go to this morning and saw these. They made me think of you, so I thought you should have them.’

‘T-thanks?’

‘I know it’s out of the blue, but I thought we should talk.’ He said all of this so calmly— cool as a cucumber—as if this were the most natural thing in the world. As if you were going to discuss the weather and not his narcissistic tendencies. ‘I might have overreacted.’

You scoffed. ‘What was your first clue?’

Elijah rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t come here to fight. I came to apologise, Y/N. Maybe there’s something here worth salvaging.’

And didn’t this happen every single time? He fucked up on a monumental scale, only realised because of your reaction, and apologised because he knew that’s what he was supposed to do, not because he saw any issues with his behaviour. He’d promise to work on it, you’d believe him, and then the cycle would start all over again. After dealing with it for a year, you were only just becoming aware of the ways he manipulated you, ways that would probably still work if you gave him enough time.

The scary part is that you were considering letting him despite the newly reawakened, sane part of your brain screaming at you not to.

‘Y/N?’

Oh God. No, no, no, no.

Bradley Bradshaw had materialised behind Elijah in all his golden glory, two coffees in hand, aviators perched on the tip of his perfect nose. He was wearing shorts and a black tank top, so clearly, he’d popped home to change clothes. To top it off, he was doused in a light sheen of sweat that glistened underneath the lights in the hallway.

The sane part of your brain was relieved to see him, but the part that Elijah controlled was about to implode. Your hands felt clammy, and your throat was thick with nerves, making it incredibly difficult to talk.

Elijah spun around. Even though he now had his back to you, you had a pretty good idea of what his face looked like. His shoulders tensed up and you watched him squeeze both of his hands into fists.

‘What the fuck?’

‘El, it’s not what it looks like, he-’

Elijah spun around. His anger was an almost tangible thing. He’d always struggled with it, what with having undiagnosed and unmedicated ADHD, and it could be terrifying. He also liked using it as an excuse when he acted out, claiming he couldn’t help it.

Bradley seemed relatively calm. You knew it was a front, that he wanted to rip Elijah’s head off, but that would end up hurting you, so he was reigning it in for your benefit.

Elijah was glancing between you and Bradley, nostrils flaring and jaw set with anger. Briefly, you locked eyes with Bradley but couldn’t determine what emotions were hidden there.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, Viper,’ Bradley started. ‘But I’m here helping Y/N through a tough time. We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.’

‘Not sure why she’s having a tough time.’ Elijah spat. ‘I’m the one getting sent pictures of his girlfriend walking down the beach with another guy. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’

‘Maybe it should’ve been you, then. Oh, wait,’ Bradley smiled sarcastically. ‘You were too busy ghosting her because she went out with her friends.’

‘I don’t need to stand here and listen to this. Who the fuck do you think you are, man? This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Elijah.’ You warned.

‘And you’re defending this guy now, Y/N? What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘That’s enough.’

‘No, I’m not done. Because I wanna know what you think gives you the right-’

Bradley sidestepped Elijah and handed you the two iced coffees. You stood there dumbly, unable to do anything.

‘I’m her friend, that’s what gives me the right. I’m the one who’s gonna pick up all the fucking pieces.’

Elijah was trying to square up to Bradley, but he was a fair bit shorter, so it just looked pathetic.

‘Pick up all the pieces of what? Her broken heart?’ Elijah laughed bitterly. ‘Boo fucking hoo. If she weren’t such a slut, we’d still be together. It’s her own fault.’

Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t a violent person. It was a last resort for him, so when he slammed Elijah into the wall, you knew it was because he’d been pushed way beyond his limit by that last comment.

Elijah shoved Bradley off him and swung, clipping the side of his face and causing him to stagger back. Bradley took a second to right himself and, with a great heaving breath, swung back hard. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the sound of Bradley’s fist meeting Elijah’s nose was loud enough that you could still picture it vividly. It reminded you of the sound of gravel getting crushed underneath the tyres of the Bronco or the eggshells you’d spent the last year walking over to spare Elijah’s feelings.

The sound seemed to snap you out of your helpless daze.

‘That’s enough!’ You yelled.

The bin bag containing Elijah’s belongings was next to the front door so you’d remember to take it to work the next day. You grabbed it and threw it at Elijah, who just about managed to catch it before it hit him in the face.

‘I don’t wanna see your face around here again.’ You said bitterly. ‘And I don’t want any rumours going around base about Bradley and me because this breakup is all your fault. You’re the one who couldn’t get his act together.’

‘And if you ever call her a slut—or anything else—again, I’ll make sure you never fly for the navy again.’

You meant every word of it, but it was still difficult to look Elijah in the eye one last time before he walked out of your life for good. It was hard because you’d still loved a version of this man, laughed, cried, and talked for hours with him. And if he’d managed to admit to a few of his shortcomings, work on them and maybe go to therapy for his unhealed trauma, you’d probably still be laughing, crying and talking with him.

You would have probably married him.

But he would never admit to having shortcomings, never take the time to work on things, and therapy was out of the question. Love is only a small part of what makes a relationship work, and when it came to your relationship with Elijah, your love for him was the only thing keeping it going. Most days, this wasn’t even enough.

You half expected him to say something else, but he seemed to know better. Clutching the bin bag full of his belongings, Elijah skulked off down the hallway, and you watched uneasily until he disappeared around the corner, finally leaving you and Bradley alone.

You released a shaky breath, and Bradley pulled you into a hug so comforting that you just about melted. He smelled of sunshine, clean cotton, and Bleu De Chanel, and you had to refrain from inhaling.

‘I leave you for half hour, and that dick shows up.’ Bradley murmured.

You could hear the smile in his voice, which was also a comfort. After a scene like that, the last thing on Elijah’s mind would have been comforting you. Even though Bradley was the one physically hurt, his priority was still taking care of you and keeping the mood light so you didn’t start spiralling.

Reluctantly you pulled away from Bradley, not because you wanted to, but because you thought he deserved some breakfast after his morning heroics.

‘Did he get your eye?’ You asked, concerned.

‘No,’ Bradley smiled reassuringly. ‘Almost, but no.’

Once back inside, you set about making breakfast. Bradley was glancing around, somewhat disorientated, and you briefly worried if he had a concussion.

‘You good, Roo?’

‘Yeah, what happened to the coffees?’

‘Oh, they’re on the side where I keep my car keys. By the door.’

Bradley fetched the coffee and sat in his usual spot at the kitchen island. He was unharmed, but it was evident in the way he wouldn’t meet your eye that something was on his mind. While you cooked the bacon—having deja vu from yesterday—you thought about the best way to approach the situation. Bradley was entitled to feel some type of way about what had just happened, and he was under no obligation to share said feelings with you if he didn’t want to. After all he’d done for you, he was entitled to a few private thoughts. But something about the brooding look on his face made it hard to leave well enough alone, and all of a sudden, you found yourself wanting to know every thought—good and bad—going on inside his pretty little head.

You lowered the heat on the stove and turned around to grab your coffee, making a point of trying to meet Bradley’s eye. The contact lasted about three seconds before he refocused his attention on his coffee cup, which had suddenly become very interesting. This man had tells, and you were going to learn them all.

‘What’s wrong, Bradley? You can talk to me, you know?’

He shook his head slightly. ‘Nothing.’

‘Bullcrap. You can tell when I’m not being honest about how I feel, and guess what? It’s a two-way street. And just like you encourage me to talk about what’s bothering me, I’m encouraging you to do the same.’

‘I’ve created a monster.’ Bradley grinned.

‘You have. It’s your own fault, Bradshaw.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ he said, sipping his iced latte. ‘I’ve just been trying to imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t come at that exact moment.’

Your stomach twisted. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You were holding roses. That look on your face, Y/N… I think if I didn’t come back when I did, you would’ve let him in.’

‘That’s…’

He was gazing at you expectantly.

‘...Ridiculous.’ You finished.

‘See, I really wanna believe that,’ he smiled sadly. ‘But I know you well enough to know that you’re lying.’

You turned back around to face the stove, partly because you needed to flip the bacon and get started on the eggs and partly because you couldn’t keep the agony off your face. Because Bradley was right as usual—as much as it pained you to admit it, you would have eventually let Elijah in.

‘It’s not as black and white as that.’

Bradley’s eyes were burning holes in the back of your head. It was extremely off-putting.

‘I know, Y/N. Nothing is.’

This caught your attention. You spun around and pointed the spatula at him accusingly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ You asked.

Bradley held his hands up. ‘Nothing, doll. I’m just agreeing with you.’

‘Nothing in life is simple,’ you murmured, opening the cupboard above you and taking the packet of bagels out. ‘No matter how much you wish it was.’

‘Just to be clear, I don’t blame you for wanting to let him in. He’s a manipulator, and he’s good at what he does. And you love with everything you have.’

‘Even when I shouldn’t.’

You heard Bradley sigh. ‘Y/N, I’m gonna tell you something, and I want you to really take it in, okay?’

‘Okay?’

‘Loving hard is never a bad thing, and you should never shrink your love to make it easier for people to digest. If you find yourself doing that, then the person you’re doing it for isn’t meant for you. The right people will always take your love as it comes, and you won’t have to change anything.’

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. ‘Like you. And Nat.’

‘Yes,’ he breathed, seemingly relieved that you were beginning to understand. ‘Just like me and Nat.’

Bradley Bradshaw was not in the business of denying you of anything, which is how he found himself curled up on your sofa for the second afternoon in a row, watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. The two of you had watched so many episodes that he knew the theme song by heart, and as catchy as it was, he only liked it because you sang it each time without fail. This was the happiest and calmest he’d seen you all weekend, which was surprising after Elijah’s surprise visit earlier that day. After quite the internal debate, he’d come to the conclusion that you needed to see him after the breakup, no matter how briefly, in order to start the process of moving on.

Bradley was starting to fancy himself a love and relationship expert despite not having experienced it many times himself. Something about you and your particular situation made him feel he needed to monitor it, as though it were his job to make sure you emerged relatively unscathed.

He glanced at you sideways, wrapped up in a pumpkin-covered throw with a mug of tea keeping your hands warm, and felt this innate need to protect you from the world and everyone in it. Especially Elijah. He couldn’t explain it, but it went further than friendship, possibly even further than love.

Bradley was just about to suggest going for a walk to stretch your legs and get some air, but then the intercom started buzzing, causing the both of you to jump out of your skins.

He reached and took your tea from you so you could get up without ending up wearing it. Whoever was waiting to be let in was pretty persistent, constantly buzzing until you managed to get to the front door and click the intercom.

‘Who is it?’ You asked, panting from the exertion.

‘Natasha Trace, you know, the best friend you’ve been blanking all weekend.’

You cursed under your breath, pressing the release for the door. ‘Sorry, Nat. Come on up.’

It suddenly dawned on Bradley that he hadn’t updated Nat since sometime yesterday and that she was probably worried sick. She knew nothing about Elijah showing up at your apartment or the fact that Bradley had stayed over. The fact that he’d slept on the sofa wouldn’t matter to her when she found out. He’d never hear the end of it.

You were hovering nervously by the door, clearly anticipating the same telling-off as Bradley. ‘I was supposed to call her last night,’ you told him. ‘And then I passed out on the couch.’

‘We’re both done for, Y/CS,’ he grinned. ‘It’s been super nice knowing you.’

Somehow—in the time it took her to get up the three flights of stairs to your front door—he managed to convince himself that she wouldn’t be that mad at the two of you. But when you opened the door, he could almost feel her anger, like heat rolling off her in waves. Before you could get a word out, she was pulling you in for a rough but well-meaning hug.

‘I was worried sick, Y/N.’

You relaxed into the hug and put your arms around her middle, squeezing reassuringly. ‘I’m sorry, Nat. I should have called.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You should’ve. Last time I saw you, you were half-cut and running away from us at The Hard Deck.’ You stepped aside so she could come in. ‘You’ve got some explaining to-’

When Natasha noticed Bradley reclining comfortably on your couch, she stopped speaking. Bradley had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

‘Hey, Nix.’

Briefly, she glanced at you and then back at Bradley. Then back at you, then back to Bradley.

‘Don’t ‘hey, Nix’ me, mister. You’ve been here all weekend?’

He shrugged apologetically. ‘Pretty much.’

‘No text? No call?’

‘Sorry. We were kinda preoccupied with wallowing and fighting Viper off.’

‘What do you mean fighting him off?’

With a great sigh, you traipsed over to the couch and collapsed back into your spot. ‘He showed up this morning with roses and the usual fake apology.’

Natasha was incredulous. She didn’t sit down, she just started pacing in front of the couch, Gilmore Girls still playing on the flat screen behind her.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yup, and it’s lucky I came back when I did,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘Y/N was gonna let him in.’

Natasha stopped pacing to glare at you. ‘You were gonna do what?’

You launched a throw pillow at Bradley’s head, which, fortunately for you, he didn’t manage to dodge.

‘Hey!’ He huffed. ‘I’m not blaming you! We talked about this earlier.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘It wasn’t my finest moment, okay? I’ve been drinking his Kool-Aid for so long it’s gonna be a while before it’s all out of my system. So I guess Bradley really did come back at the right time.’

This didn’t seem to satisfy Nat, so you launched into a more detailed account of the past weekend, filling her in on everything except a few details about Bradley. Those you would save for when it was just the two of you. Halfway through, she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, facing you and listening intently to what you had to say. By the end of it, she was literally seething with rage. This time, directed at your now ex-boyfriend.

‘He ought to watch his back,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Cause if I see him on base, he’s gonna wish he’d never been born.’

The three of you ended up ordering pizza. At one point, you got up to go to the bathroom, and Natasha took the opportunity to grill Bradley some more. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Only surprised that it had taken her this long.

She started the interrogation by smacking the back of his head.

‘What was that for?’ He hissed.

‘That’s for going after your best friend when she’s just had her heart broken.’

‘What makes you think I’m going after her?’

Nat pretended to think about this. ‘Hmmm, let me see… Maybe because you’ve slept here two nights in a row, and I walked into you cuddled up on her couch drinking fucking cocoa!’

‘It was tea, actually. And I slept out here both nights. Just didn’t want her to be alone.’

She relented, but only slightly. ‘Still, you need to cool it. She’s probably feeling all kinds of confused right now, and she doesn’t need you and your big puppy dog eyes making things even more complicated.’

He smiled despite himself. ‘You think I have big puppy dog eyes?’

She glared at him witheringly. ‘Is missing the point a personality trait of yours?’

‘Nix, will you calm down? I’m not going after her, I’m not confusing her, and I’m not making things difficult with my big eyes. I’ve been giving her advice, helping her through the worst of it. That’s all.’

Natasha softened, satisfied that Bradley was telling the truth. The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened, so they’d have to finish this conversation some other time. But before you came back, Natasha whispered one last thing…

‘I know you love her, Bradley. I know you always have. But you have to give her some time.’

End of part 2. Final part coming soon!

Taglist: primroseluna eloquentdreamer sgt-barnesveins daybleedsintonightfa11

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juneberrie · 2 days

Text

I KNEW IT ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ georgie cooper x reader

word count: 1.1k || masterlist

summary: georgie confesses his feelings on the swingset

author's note: if he needs a dog i can bark. (takes place in early season five ish + doesn't follow the plot cause i can't be bothered to rewrite this)

knock. knock. knock.

you waited outside of the cooper house, hands in your pockets. a few moments later, a young boy opened the door. he looked you up and down.

"um, hi! is georgie cooper here?" you asked, smiling at the boy.

he stared at you, before turning his head to the side. "georgie, theres a girl at the door looking for you," he called.

"a girl?" you heard a woman gasp.

georgie rushed into view, shoving the boy behind him. "hey, let's go!" he said quickly. the second he stepped a foot onto the porch, a woman came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. he groaned.

"georgie," the woman smiled warningly, staring at him.

george shrugged her hand off and moved to stand next to you. "mom, this is y/n," he mumbled. "y/n, this is my mother."

"hi," you smiled, reaching out a hand to shake.

"well hello there," she replied. "you, uh, one of georgie's friends from school?"

"yes ma'am." you nodded. "we have math together."

the young boy poked his head out from behind his mother. "i'm in that class too."

"shut up, sheldon," georgie snapped. you swatted his arm.

"georgie, be nice," you scolded. he rubbed his arm, mockingly repeating your words.

"where are y'all off to?" mrs. cooper asked. she raised an eyebrow at her son.

georgie huffed. "mom. i'm seventeen, i dont nee—"

he was cut off by a piercing glare from his mother.

he groaned. "the park, now can we go?" he grabbed your hand, turning to leave. it felt like a swarm of butterflies were just released in your stomach. mrs. cooper cleared her throat.

you laughed and pulled georgie back. "the park just down the road from the elementary school, mrs. cooper."

she beamed at your politeness. "i like her," she told georgie, who's face flushed. "right, now, georgie, you make sure to walk this nice young lady home, alright?"

"i know, mom," georgie whined. "can we go?"

"fine," she said, huffing.

georgie grinned and started dragging you away, yelling out a "bye" over his shoulder.

you looked back and called, "bye, mrs. cooper! it was nice meeting you!"

᭝☆

as you and georgie walked to the park, he made it a point to always walk on the road side of the sidewalk. the two of you talked and talked, about school and work and movies and more, until you couldn't think of anything else to talk about. usually, you would've called into a comfortable silence, but today was different. it was too quiet, too tense. it was obvious there was something lingering between the two of you. as you walked, your hands kept brushing against each other, and you had to stop yourself from intertwining your hands.

the sun was setting as the two of you made it to the park, a slight chill settling into the air.

he sat down on the swing next to you, turning his head. light from the fading sun caught his eyes, turning their brown hue into a shimmering gold.

"so..." georgie started.

"so..." you replied, turning to look at him. your gaze flicked down to his lips and you looked away quickly. "that test in math was so hard. i definitely bombed it."

"right? i just put a/c/d/c for all the answer choices," georgie complained.

"like the band?" you laughed, toeing your shoe in the dirt under the swing.

"yeah, like the band," he chuckled. "either i put acdc or i just straight up didn't answer the questions."

you snorted. "im not surprised."

he put his hands up in defense. "hey, we already have a sheldon. don't need another smartass."

you rolled you eyes at your friend. "you could at least try," you said.

he hummed noncommittally in response. you could feel his gaze on you as he pushed his swing back and forth.

"i broke up with jana," he said suddenly.

"what?" you turned to look at him. he was still staring at you, the last of the sun's light casting shadows across the ground. "oh, georgie.. thats— i'm sorry," you offered as an attempt at comfort. you couldn't help the flutter in your heart.

"eh. 's alright. i'd been meaning to do it for a while, just... never found the opportunity."

"well..." the two of you spent a few moments in silence, trying to find the words to say. "i'm always here if you want to talk."

"thats... um, actually why i wanted to come here."

"oh?" you said, tearing your gaze away from him to push yourself on the swings. "why?"

"well, um. the reason i broke up with her is.." he paused, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

"you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," you said.

"no, i want to." he kissed his teeth, staring off into the distance.

"y'know how sometimes, you're with one person but you're thinking about someone else?" he asked.

"mhm..?" you said, an inkling of an idea seeping into your mind.

"everytime i was with jana, i was thinking of someone else," he admitted quietly.

"really?" you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and saw him nod. "who?"

he fell completely silent, digging the toe of his scuffed up sneakers into the dirt below him.

"you."

your heart stopped. you? you? this couldn't be happening. you had dreamed about this moment since the day you realized you had feelings for the brunette, but you had never thought he might feel the same.

"me?" you managed.

"you," he repeated. "y/n, you're the nicest girl i've ever met. you're funny, and sweet, and you're my best friend."

"you're also really damn pretty," he added.

"georgie.." the words you wanted to say were right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't seem to push them out. "i- i don't-"

he stood up from the swing, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. "i get it if you don't feel the same. i just thought you should know," he mumbled, starting to walk away.

"georgie, wait," you said, quickly getting up from the swing. you tripped over a rock and stumbled forward, slamming into his chest. georgie's arms instinctively wrapped around you to keep you from falling.

"yeah?" he breathed out.

"i- i lo-"

your words were cut off when his lips found their way onto yours. the world seemed to stop spinning as georgie kissed you. it was just you and him under a vast expanse of stars and sky. he kissed you like he had been waiting for it his whole life, like you were some goddess he was worshipping.

when you finally pulled away, panting slightly, he was smiling down at you. "i knew it," he grinned.

"oh, shut up," you groaned, swatting his arm.

he laughed, kissing you again.

"i've loved you since the day i met you, y/n," he said when he pulled away. "i just didn't know how to tell you."

#liz’s writing ♡#georgie cooper #georgie cooper x reader #young sheldon x reader #georgie cooper x y/n #georgie cooper x you

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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You ever think about what would happen if Bruce had to kill in self defence?

Like literally no other choice, just attacked without holding back because he knows he’s about to die, and he puts a bit more force behind it than he expects and suddenly they’re not moving why aren’t they moving what has he done—

I haven’t put a lot of thought into it, and it depends entirely on how you write his character, but I think he’d either A. spiral before eventually coming to terms with the fact that there really was no other option at the time, B. panic and hide all evidence and pretending nothing happened while slowly spiralling into a pit of self loathing, OR if you want to go the really angsty route, maybe he hides all evidence and after some spiralling convince himself that it’s fine he’s Batman he needs to stay Batman so he’ll just put this behind himself and pretend it never happened, it was just one time it’s fine, but then one of his kids unearths some piece of footage or something and demands why the rules don’t apply to him, why he can keep on working and isn’t a threat despite being a killer yet Jason always gets shit for even knocking someone out. And mayybe one of the other batkids recently killed in self defence too, and Batman was lecturing them because ‘there’s always another option’ and how they shouldn’t be out in the field if they put civilians at risk, when Jason or Babs or someone calls him a hypocrite and it spirals from there…

Ooh ~ I like how you added the element that Bruce didn't mean to kill them. He never actually made that choice.

Despite Bruce's steadfast rules against killing, the man has killed before. Imma link an article here so y'all can look into it. Basically, pre-Robin Batman (or his beginning years as the caped crusader) used to have no issue with killing. This storyline was changed so that he had never killed at all, but it is interesting to ponder. He has made kills since his character insisted he has and never will kill, though. Some of the ones listed are alternative universes or times he was sure his enemy would survive despite their situation seeming to depict otherwise.

Therefore, it's not a stretch to say he would or has killed. There's some fics that examine the hc that Bruce DID kill someone (or multiple people) in that pre-Tim era and repressed/denied the hell out of that notion. Extending that out to other circumstances would cool af.

Anyways, let's look at this AU specifically!

The three reactions Bruce can have about this are:

The mentally healthy one of coming to terms and accepting this kill

Hide all of the evidence, spiral, and try to justify it to himself while remaining a hypocrite

Repress the fuck out of his memories (including killing, hiding the evidence, and anything else surrounding it) to deny it happened

The first one has opportunities for good dad Bruce where he communicates with actual words to his kids that he'd rather they come home alive. Great hurt/comfort for that route.

The second one is full throttle fuck Bruce. He's a hypocrite who berates the others for their choices in the field, reacts explosively to them even hinting at murder, and overall no one (including Bruce) is having a good time.

The third one has four options:

Bruce is obv not mentally well. He can receive help, come to terms, and eventually end up as good dad

He keeps denying despite how much evidence is proven otherwise, causing him to spiral and jeopardize his relationships.

He eventually accepts what happens but is steadfast that HIM doing so is fine. He won't excuse that behavior for anyone else regardless of the circumstances

After acknowledging the kill, he creates a self-fulfilling prophecy with his belief that even one death will cause him to spiral into madness and mass murder. There would be many clues that he could stop from becoming a monster, but he simply doesn't due to his ideas that one death is too far

The last one could bring lots of angst, especially for the person that forced Bruce to acknowledge the evidence and his kill :)

Maybe the fic can even force Alfred to be the one to put Bruce down for good :)

There are also fics that consider what Bruce's reactions and what the rest of the batfam would do if someone who's sworn off killing ends up killing someone (particularly on accident or in self-defense). There's either good dad Bruce who apologizes for ever giving the impression that killing in self-defense is wrong (when there's no other choice) or bad dad Bruce who goes nuclear.

This has absolutely nothing to do with Bruce killing someone, but this is a rant about Bruce's moral code:

For once, I'd kill for an ACAB Batman because cops kill, and that goes against his moral code. A simple math of murder = wrong, so therefore cops (who don't swear off ever killing again) are an entire group he's against the same as he's against gangs.

He's criticized the batfam, some JL members, anti-heroes, villains, etc. for their choices regarding murdering for justice. Are there any fics or instances in canon where he basically says "fuck the police" because they do kill? Not him stating that GCPD is corrupt, but him fully disparaging the entire profession/institution due to the allowance it gives in murdering. He could go on one of his rants about judge, jury, and executioner. He could chat about power dynamics, morals, police training, checks and balances, insufficient evidence gathering before execution, innocents killed, etc.

Where the fuck is ACAB Bruce? Give me reluctantly working with Jim despite his hatred of cops. Give me him stating he likes Jim as a person and his notion of changing shit from the inside, but Bruce (as someone who is legit working outside the law and policies in place) doesn't think it's possible to change enough. Give me Bruce debating whether his role of working with the legal system is doing harm.

If Bruce has black and white perspectives on murder, let him have it about everything.

#dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne #dc au

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