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thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis · 3 years

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Tricked Into It (Greg Gerwitz x Reader)

Word Count: 1,957

Pairing: Greg Gerwitz aka Mouse x Reader

Summary: Ever since your last breakup with someone who cheated and abused the love you had for them, you have been wary of dating. And it doesn’t help when your friend Kim Burgess won’t stop pestering you about some cute techie guy at the 21st District.

Warnings: talk of bad relationship (cheating, emotional abuse, PTSD from the relationship), descriptions of what might be an anxiety attack (I described feeling anxious but it ended up bordering on what could have almost been an attack.)

A/N: So I am working on a Kelly Severide Imagine, but I’m a but stuck on it so I came up with the idea that I take the last imagine I wrote, the other Mouse Imagine and make it into a little series of one shots, mainly cause I wanted to explore the relationship of Mouse and this librarian!reader. So this is a sort of prequel to the first Mouse imagine, how they first met which is talked about in the other imagine.

HERE is the first Librarian!Reader fic if you want to check it out!!

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!

“Kim, I swear to god!”

You slammed your book shut with a snap and looked up at the Chicago police officer, aka Kim Burgess aka your best friend, in front of you. She looked almost as annoyed as you felt, rolling her eyes and sitting down on your couch across you in your reading chair. Kim had come over after her shift at the 21st District ended, and only after a couple of minutes of peace, Kim started up on her latest crusade; your love life.

“Y/N...”

“No! I get that you care, believe me, but I don’t need you trying to set me up with someone.” You said with a heavy sigh.

Kim scooted closer to you and leaned forward, trying to catch your eye which was avoiding hers, “Hey,” She paused and waited for you to look her in the eye, “I just want you to be happy. And I think this guy is a good match for you. Much better than -”

“Don’t say their name.”

“...Fine. But Mouse is so your type!”

You were about to start arguing again when her words actually registered into your head, “His name is Mouse? There is no way that this cop’s name is Mouse.”

“Okay one, he isn’t a cop. He is a tech expert that works with Intelligence, a civilian hired by the unit and the department. And two, Mouse is just what everyone calls him, its a nickname from when he was younger.” Kim explained.

“Tech guy?”

“Yeah, crazy smart when it comes to hacking and stuff like that. He got the job after hacking into Voight’s cell phone in like a couple of seconds. And he was in the Rangers with Jay, plus he is pretty funny and cute.”

You looked away from Kim as you thought it through. Clearly Kim was just looking out for you, but there was no way this guy, this super-smart-tech-genius-ex-ranger, could ever be interested in someone like you. You were just a simple librarian at Chicago Public Library, living alone aside from your cat companion, Geraldine. You hadn’t done anything extraordinary with your life, and as your thought process started to spiral in an anxious tizzy, you started to shake your head.

“No, no I can’t see this guy. He wouldn’t want to get stuck with some boring librarian.” You said, your body shrinking in on itself as your self confidence crumbled. All the comments your ex significant other made to you while you were still dating came popping up into your mind one after the other after the other. Comments on your weight, your looks, how you were boring and that was why they stepped out and cheated on you any chance they could. Tears were misting in your eyes and you tried blinking them away, not wanting to cry in front of Kim.

“Y/N-”

“I mean it Kim. Drop it.”

Kim looked you over and saw how you had retreated into yourself, clearly looking uncomfortable with the topic. That’s when she sighed and nodded, forcing a small smile on her face, “Okay.”

---

A week has passed since the confrontation with Kim about that techie guy, and you were slowly trying to purge the whole instance from your head and get back to your quiet life. Every once in a while, the conversation would slide to the forefront of your mind, along with your anxiety-fueled spiral about your ex, and you would try and shake away the ordeal. It had made you feel small and disgusting thinking about your ex and how your self worth was diminished because of them, and you never wanted to go back to that place again. Even if that meant never being in another relationship again.

On Friday, you had gotten a text from Kim around midday about having a girl’s night and heading out to have a drink at Molly’s, this pub which had become pretty popular with the cops of the Intelligence Unit. You had been once before, and one of the owners, Gabbie Dawson, was really nice to you when Kim introduced her. So you agreed, excited to go out and hang out with Kim.

Once you got out of work around 6, you got back to your small one bedroom apartment and fed Geraldine before retreating to your room to figure out what to wear. You settled on a pair of slender black pants and a long sleeved dark green blouse matched with a pair of green heels. Once you showered, dried and got your hair the exact way you like it, added a little makeup and got dressed, it was time to head out and meet Kim at Molly’s. You drove to the neighborhood where the pub was, some cars already lining the streets letting you know that Molly’s would probably be busy.

You parked, and hurried to get inside, pulling your winter coat around you a litter tighter as a gust of wind tried to chill you to the bone. The November night air was lung chilling and while you weren’t dressed like those young twenty-somethings with short dresses and no coats, you still did not want to waste another second with the wind chill. Once you got in, you saw that your assumption about the pub being busy was right, many people scattered around the bar, others in groups were seated or standing next to tables against the other wall. You looked around, trying to catch Kim’s face in the crowd but having trouble with how crowded. You pealed off your coat and made your way to the bar where you saw an older man behind the counter, cleaning off a glass.

“Excuse me?” You said, slipping into the space in front of the bar, and accidentally grazing your arm against the guy sitting down to your right, “Oh sorry.” You said quickly to the guy, not really looking in his direction so you didn’t notice when he started staring at you in awe.

“What can I get ya?” The older man said as he put the glass down and gave you his full attention.

“I know this is probably a long shot, but my friend comes to this bar a lot and I was just wondering if you’ve seen her tonight? Kim Burgess?”

“Ah! I know Burgess. From the 21st District?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s her.”

The man smiled before turning around and grabbing something from behind the bar and then turned back to you, “I haven’t seen her, but she called about 5 minutes ago saying that her friend would be stopping by tonight. She also said to get her a vodka cranberry on her and to give her this.”

He handed you a napkin and then turned away, most likely to get your drink ready. You looked down at the napkin with a rough note written on it, reading out loud the note, “Hey, something came up super last minute, have a drink on me and enjoy the night. Sorry, --Kim.”

“Sorry about that, kid.” The man said as he returned with your drink, giving you a warm smile that also had a hint of pity in it.

“No problem. It’s not your fault.”

With one more smile he headed towards the other end of the bar, leaving you with your drink. You let out a sigh and brought the drink to your lips, trying to figure out what you were going to do next when a voice from next to you started speaking.

“You’re friends with Burgess?”

Looking over, it was the guy you had apologized to earlier. Now that you weren’t in a rush to find Kim, you got a good look at him. He had brown hair, you could almost consider it floppy-like if it didn’t also have a clean-cut feel to it. The man’s eyes were bright blue, and they looked at you with a mix of intrigue and surprise. He was wearing a blue button-up which matched his eyes, the first few buttons undone.

“Yeah, do you know her?” You asked. He nodded and looked down to his beer bottle, his fingers anxiously playing with the paper label.

“I-I work with her at the district.” He explained. “Are you one of her flight attendant friends?”

“No, god no. I’m a librarian at the Chicago Public Library.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“You don’t have to lie. I know it’s boring..”

“No! I genuinely think it’s cool. I-I mean I’m not a huge book guy myself but-but I did read a lot of Shakespeare in school and that was really cool, especially the-the one about the guy who dressed as a woman to hide from a mob or something and everyone thought he was a witch?” The guy rambled, his face flushing as he tried to save himself. You smirked at the clumsiness of his words and took a drink of your cocktail.

“The Merry Wives of Windsor?” You offered, and the guy snapped at the name.

“Yeah, yeah. The whole play now that I think about it went over my head at 16. But I was too interested in the Blackhawks and code. Like-Like the game that happened the other night, I was invested until that left winger from the Rangers totally checked Hartman and they put-”

“Hartman in the penalty box! Yes!! With only 3 minutes left on the clock and the take out the best right winger on the ice.” You jumped in, a smile growing on your face as the topic of hockey came up. “If he was still playing the Blackhawks would have got at least 2 more points and would have won instead of losing to the worst team in the league.”

The guy sputtered his drink and starts laughing, and immediately think its cause you had embarrassed yourself and he was laughing at you, not what you said. That was until he smiled at you and nodded his head.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You felt a small fluttering in you chest when he smiled, something about him not making you nervous or anxious which was a change. With a smile on your own face, you put your hand out to him, “I’m Y/N by the way. Y/N L/N.”

“Greg Gerwitz.” Greg took your hand and shook it, lingering for a couple extra seconds before pulling away. “Or you can call me Mouse.”

You froze as he said that, your eyes widening in shock. He seemed to see your reaction and frowned, “Or not?”

“No, sorry.” You said quickly, trying to recover. “It-Its just that Burgess has been trying to set me up with you for the last few weeks.”

“Wait...oh! You’re that librarian! Burgess has been telling me about you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, says how you are the best person ever and that I would like you the minute we met.” He chuckled. Greg smirked and turned more towards you, “And she wasn’t wrong.”

You flushed, feeling the heat of your blush against your cheeks as his smirk widened. It was quiet between the two of you as the pub continued with it’s noise like it wasn’t watching the start of something amazing. Greg then spoke up, getting your attention again, “Hey, I know this might seem fast but I really like talking to you.”

“I really like talking to you too.”

“Really?” He asked, his face getting red again as his smirk melted away into a nervous smile, “Well, what would you say about a date? Maybe the Blackhawks game tomorrow?”

It took quicker than you thought, but all your anxiety from the week before seemed like a long lost bad dream and you just wanted to spend some time with Greg Gerwitz.

“I would love to.”

ONE CHICAGO TAGS: @carnationworld

NORMAL TAGS: @l4life @ithoughtiwasflying

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neverthrive · 3 years

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Just gonna leave this old ass fanfic here

Adventuring is a rewarding occupation, providing an abundance of wealth, the respect of peers, and even a fulfilling sense of self worth. Even so, the constant action takes its toll, and every once in a great while an adventurer has to take a step back, breathe in deeply, and just get away from it all. Which is exactly what Jake had been planning for himself and his human brother.

It was a simple idea; take a break from their regular schedule of evil slaying, butt-kickery and all around, nonstop awesomeness. Find some remote location that holds nothing but tranquility in store for the duo to just chillax at for a few days. Just the two of them, a dog and his boy. It was perfect, but like any other well laid plan, there was a monkey wrench destined to find its way into the cogs of said perfection and jam Jake's precise synchronization up something awful. This particular monkey wrench goes by the name of Marceline.

"What are you dweebs up to?" Inquired a melodically cynical voice that belonged to none other than the ancient noirette in question. Marceline stared down ever curiously at the mixed species siblings and their growing mess as she liesurely drifted on the air over their heads. From what she could tell, her mortal friends appeared to be gathering heaps of useless garbage and stowing the junk in their already cramped luggage, for some reason or another.

Finn took a moment to acknowledge the vampire's presence, looking up from his loaded pack to face her. "I'm not actually sure, myself... Jake just told me to start packing my crud, and I guess that's what I'm doing, so does that answer your question?"

"Not in the least." she replied curtly before turning her now suspicious gaze in Jake's direction. The dog paid Marceline no mind as he continued to toss his various and mostly useless possessions into a sack. A rubber duck, a length of rope, a jar of peanuts, a pair of socks... Finally, he stored two empty glass bottles and closed the sack, still oblivious to the vampire's questioning stare. "Jake, what the plum is with all the hullabaloo?"

"Nope." Jake snapped, mildly irritated.

"'Nope'? Nope what?" She pressed him, ignoring the dog's tone.

"No. I'm not gonna tell you because you'll just want to come with us and muck it up. It's s'pose to be just me and mah bro, and you have no part in it. So no, Marceline, you can't come camping with us." Jake retorted in his best attempt at sounding authoritative, but in trying to iterate just how serious he was, the fact that he was suppose to be withholding information had slipped his mind a tad. He soon realized his mistake and growled in frustration. "Forget I said that last part!" But ironically, that last part about ignoring that previous last part was ignored by both teens.

"We're going camping?" Finn and Marceline asked in unison, excitement bubbling up in their throats.

"Yes, Finn, WE are. And no, Marceline, WE are not. Got it?" Jake answered pointedly. "It's camping time with Finn and Jake. I didn't hear Marceline anywhere in there, so step off sister!"

"Well fine! Maybe I didn't want to go on your stupid trip anyway!" Marceline pouted sorely and turned to leave, but Finn, being the model peacekeeper he is, blocked his friend's exit. "Get out of the way, Finn. I'm obviously not wanted here anymore." The vampire queen tried to push the boy aside, but no matter how hard she shoved, the squishy blob of flesh and heroism persisted to keep her from leaving.

"Come on, Jake's just being a butt. You don't have to leave on account o' him bein' a Mr. grumpy pants." Finn gently wrapped a hand around Marceline's forearm and began to lead her back over to his brother so as amends could be made.

"He doesn't even wear pants, dude." she huffed out in retortion as she let herself be pulled back towards the junk heaps that the magical dog was still busying himself with sorting through and packing into napsacks and suitcases and the like.

"Jake..." Finn verbally nudged his brother to outstretch the olive branch to Marceline, but an apology seemed hesitant in forthcoming. "Come on, man. You know you done bad in yourself bro, and I know you know how to make it right again." Finn's prompt appeared to have worked this time, eliciting a defeated sigh from Jake.

Dropping his bags of assorted and worthless loot, Jake turned to face Marceline who now had her arms crossed over her chest and was avoiding eye contact with him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Marceline untensed a bit at that. "It's not you, It's just that I really wanted to have some bro time with Finn, y'know? To recapture those times we used to share when we was wee pups." Jake inhaled deeply, breathing in the musty scent lingering about from the, until recently, long forgotten contents of that once overstuffed closet in the corner. He had a feeling in his gut that he'd regret this decision later, and his gut was almost never wrong, but he couldn't ignore his guilt and empathy for Marceline. She just wanted to hang with her friends. "So... You want to come with us, then?"

The vampire's sour mood dissipated immediately, her pout rapidly shifting to a grin stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear. "Heck yes I wanna go camping with you guys! So when are we leaving?" Marceline asked almost giddily.

"Well I guess since you're coming with us, we probably shouldn't be heading out 'til just before sundown." Jake answered thoughtfully. Having so much time before they were to depart allowed Jake some spare moments to cool it with all the preparations and freed up his thinkin' schedule a bit. Suddenly, a thought pervaded his mind that the dog rather took a shining to. "If we're bringing guests along now, Lady Rainicorn's coming too!" and with that, Jake took off to go inform his girlfriend of how he'd decided she would be spending the next few days. The matter was entirely non negotiable.

Finn and Marceline stood idly by as Jake hastily absconded out through a nearby window. The young hero turned to his immortal friend "You know, he actually does wear pants..."

"Really?"

"Yup."

A quarter hour before dusk would settle in, the four campers had reached the landing Jake scouted out beforehand. It was a small pocket within the forest, not too far from a river, vacant enough to comfortably fit everyone but with a dense enough canopy to shade any vampire from daylight at high noon. Having acquired a suitable base of operations, the only thing left standing in between Jake and his cherished relaxation was setting up camp. The duties were divied up between two groups.

"So Lady and I are gonna pitch our tent, by ours I mean hers and mine. I don't know what either of you are doing so... Sleep under the stars or whatever. But also, we need a campfire, so you guys should maybe gather some sticks and twigs and stuff, and it'll be math. 'Kay." Jake then spoke something in a language neither Finn nor Marceline could comprehend to Lady, who laughed in response, and the two magical creatures diligently began piecing together the frame of their shared tent. The rainicorn giggled lightly every time Jake slipped a tent pole into the corresponding connector she held.

Marceline narrowed her eyes at the spectacle and made a face. "Gross..." She thought it best to linger around the couple and their disgusting adorableness as little as inhumanly possible and began to head towards the surrounding thickets. Finn soon followed suit, tailing behind his friend into the thick of the forest to gather materials for their fire.

"So like, sticks, huh?" The human remarked as he bent over to scoop a discarded twig from the earth.

Marceline turned to see Finn's pitiful offering. Their fire would need a lot more fuel than some measly green branches. "No man, we need bigger stuff than that." she explained. "And preferably a little more dead." she added.

"Bigger?" Finn thought it over for a moment. "Alright, bigger." Turning to face a tree, the stout teenager grappled the trunk and with all his might attempted to pry the poor unsuspecting eudicot from the soil. "I need your wood, tree! Give it up, yo!" Finn continued his struggle while Marceline cackled at his random act of foolishness.

Seeing no sign of Finn relenting any time soon, his undead friend intervened. "Finn, we don't need a whole tree. And you most def don't gotta yank one out'a the ground. C'mere, ya goober." she beckoned while barely supressing her laughter. Finn looked from Marceline then back to the tree in his grasp, releasing the bark from his grip and gaining nothing from his efforts but sore arms.

"Look," she pointed to a fallen branch that looked as if it'd been laying on the forest floor for a few seasons now. "This is the kind of stuff we're gonna need. Big enough to burn, and not impossible to pick up, got it? Now get it." Finn did as instructed, bending to take the dry, rough chunk of high octane campfire fuel in his arms. "Alright, now just find a lot more like it and we're good to light 'em up."

"How many more?" Finn asked wearily.

"I don't know. Lots, I suppose. Have to keep it going for a while." she replied, venturing deeper into the woods to search for any more decent firewood she might per chance stumble upon. Figuratively, that is, it's hard to sumble when your feet don't touch the ground.

"Bleh..." Despite his contempt for such menial labor, Finn once again followed the vampire to gather what they needed. It was an easy enough job, but way too dang boring for a man of action. Finn needed excitement, and lugging sticks around wasn't providing.

When they'd finished gathering the firewood and the time came to actually light the fire, Finn demanded he be the one to do the deed. And so there they sat across from one another, a neatly arranged pile of dead wood between them. Finn furiously stroked the sticks together in a fruitless attempt to catalyze a spark.

"This usually works! These things must be broken, or something..." Finn pouted and heaved the useless wooden shafts into the nearby shrubbery in frustration.

"Here," Marceline moved herself closer to the bundle and spawned a small flame in the palms of her hands. Touching the flame to the tinder, the pile of miniature lumber and bark ignited almost instantly. Finn stared down at the blazing fire, then glanced up to Marcleline, a smug, toothy smirk plastered across her face.

"You cheated!" he yelped, pointing accusingly at the girl who succeeded so easilly where he so miserably failed.

"Finn, don't be jelly of my totally sweet vampire powers." Marceline replied, her expression never faltering.

"I'm not jelly! Maybe jam, but not jelly. Just admit you cheated! Vampire powers is cheating fo' sure." he insisted.

"Nope." The vampire playfully let her forked tongue slide out from between her fangs, mocking the disgruntled human.

"Whatever..."

"Hey, you guys made the fire! Rad!" Jake exclaimed as he padded his way over to the two from his now fully assembled tent.

"Yeah, we totally did it! 100% group effort here." Marceline chimed almost sarcastically. "So who wants to roast marshmallows?"

"... Then the puppy looked under his bed, and saw two glowing green eyes! The pup was so scared, it almost wee wee'd!" Finn stood over his three friends, the crackling fire below lighting his features in distorted illumination. He raised both hands above his head, digits stretched and curled as claws in the most menacing display the boy could muster. "The nebelung under the bed reached out to the scared little puppy and..." Finn paused, turning to Jake who'd heard the story right along with Finn in their youth and knew what came next. "TICKLED THE PUPPY!" Finn pounced on his brother and poked his wriggling fingers into the dog's soft flanks. Jake snorted and snickered at the human's tickle attack as the two women watched on. Lady found the sight to be quite amusing, adorable even. Marceline just sucked the red from a can of kidney beans in stark indifference.

"If you two are done with your brotherly gropefest yet, maybe I could tell a real ghost story?" Marceline cut their fun short and assumed her position over the campfire as current story teller as the brothers returned to their seats. "This isn't the first time I've been in these parts of the woods. I came through here some years back, how long ago exactly is a little fuzzy. But I wasn't alone. No, I had friends with me, just like I do now, and just like now, there was a dog among my group.

"We were just hiking through, you see, we had no intentions of staying. No, that would be foolish! We knew better, we'd heard the stories of what happens around here after dark. Weird stuff... Spooky happenings, y'know? But the dog, he got lost-"

"Oh no! Not the dog! The dog always dies first!" Jake interrupted with his sudden fearful outburst.

"Well anyway..." Marceline shot him a scornful look, and continued. "The dog must have started straggling, because when we stopped to rest, he was nowhere to be found. Of course we looked for him, we stayed together as a group, we weren't about to split up so we'd all be lost in 'The Forsaken Forest'. But no matter where we searched, there was no sign of the poor lost doggy. It wasn't 'til well after dark when we found him. He was huddled in a bush maybe twenty or so yards from where he was last seen, shaking uncontrollably with his face in his hands.

"He wouldn't show us his face. He just kept on mumbling some nonsense about 'whispering trees' and 'eyeball rockets'. When we finally pried the dog's hands from his face, he had no eyes! Just two gaping sockets where his looking globes used to be! Once we got him to calm down, he told us the whispering trees of the forsaken forest used some hoodoo to turn his eyeballs into jet packs and they flew right off of his face. Wait..." Marceline stiffened and tilted her head to one side as if intently listening to some faint noise off in the distance. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jake squeaked, cowering into his girfriend's embrace. Cuddling with Lady Rainicorn made him feel secure, but it wasn't enough to make him totally forget he was in the alleged 'Foresaken Forest'.

"It sounds like..." she leaned in toward Jake, and with a completely straight face, with a hint of what might pass for something distraught in her tone, answered "Whispering."

That's all Jake needed to hear. He gave his friends a surprise performance of his scream song and tore off to his tent as fast as his four legs would carry him, separating himself from the 'evil' trees outside with a thin layer of nylon. No way in the flippin' Night-o-Sphere was he letting some piney mischief makers steal his precious eyes. Lady chuckled and followed after him, knowing Jake wouldn't be able to sleep alone tonight after that fright.

Finn and Marceline shared a laugh at Jake's expense. When their howling merriment subsided, they realized they were alone once more. Finn fed a few more branches from their dwindling supply into the blaze, stoking the flames.

"So, have you really been out in these woods before?" The boy asked, now feeling uneasy not knowing if the vampire's story was true or not. Finn'd witnessed stranger things, so believing tall tales came easily to him.

"Yeah, I have. But not how you're thinking I did, that story was bogus." Finn was relieved. "Naw, my old man took me camping somewhere around here when I was younger, before that whole 'fry incident' happened. It's one of the more pleasant memories I have from my upbringing." Marceline sighed and watched the flames consume their fresh meal through hazy, half lidded eyes. The age-old young woman contently recalled the time she and her father shared out in this forest so many years ago.

"Is that why you like camping?" Finn pulled her out of her train of thought. "Becuase your dad brought you?"

"Yeah, probably." she admitted. "It's just nice to chill out in the wild, with some friends or family or whatever. It's kind of peaceful. So how 'bout you, Finn? Have you ever been camping?"

"Well, once pop took me, Jake and Jermaine out for a weekend of fishing. Y'know, a father and his boys." Finn still missed his parents, they were such kind old folk. No one else would look twice at the human freak, but they raised him as their own. "But it was actually just the back yard, there was a pond there too, and we were told we couldn't go inside the house 'til the weekend was over. Dad made us some sort of little shelter out of some dead trees and ferns and all we ate was the fish we caught, but Dad made sure to stock the pond with lots of fish beforehand, so we had plenty. It was a pretty good time, even if it wasn't the wilderness like this."

"It's not where you're at, Finn, all that matters is who you're with." Marceline asserted, and felt a certain truth to her words resonate. In her experience, this was an immutable fact, in good company, fond memories could be made anywhere. Finn always seemed like good company, and he'd given the vampire an abundance of fresh memories she hoped would not fade any time soon.

"Yeah," Finn nodded gingerly. "that's deep." The human stretched his arms wide and yawned in deeply. It was getting late, and an adolecsent boy needs his sleep. "I'm gonna hit the sack."

Finn took a few paces away from the campfire and found one of the various packs he'd brought with him on this excursion at the base of a large tree. Opening the zipper, he reached inside and withdrew a very large, very new looking gortex sleeping bag and unrolled the bundle of fluff and warmth, laying it across the ground. The tuckered hero wasted no time before hopping into the over sized, silky feeling cocoon, but before he could drift of to the land of Sweet dreams, he was disturbed by a familiar voice.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" demanded the very abandoned feeling vampire queen.

"You're nocturnal." Finn retorted bluntly before rolling over to face away from the dying fire.

"But I've been up all day!" she protested. "My sleep schedule is wack, and it's pretty much entirely your fault."

"Hey, it's your own choice to pester us during the day. You made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it. Hehe." Finn laughed at the irony of that figure of speech used in this particular instance and noted that he's not exactly one to be clever with irony, and it was mostly just coincidence, but an awesome coincidence at that. "Can't you just like, sleep hangin' from a tree or somethin'? Bats do that all the time."

"No! For one, that's actually an insulting generalization, and two, I don't think I can maintain myself in bat form while I'm sleeping." Marceline explained. It sounded logical enough of a reason to rule out sleeping in trees, and there was no way she was about to sleep atop the cold dirt. "Scootch over, I'm getting in with you." she ordered.

"No way! Why didn't you bring your own sleeping junk?" Finn countered.

"Because I didn't think of it and vampires were never bestowed with the gift of foresight, now make room!"

"You can't!" Finn barked.

"Why can't I?" she challenged.

"Because... You're a girl..." Finn's face brightened with reddish hugh.

"Are you saying you'd rather sleep with a boy?" Marceline asked slyly, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

"Well no... But..." Finn sputtered, "This isn't fair!"

"Life ain't fair, get used to it," the dead girl shot back while making her way to Finn and his comfy looking sleeping bag that he was being oh so greedy trying to keep all to himself. Finn hesitated, but after seeing Marceline was dead set on gettin' all up in his bag, he reluctantly relented his opposition and allowed her entry, slipping in beside him.

Marceline noticed how spacious it was inside, still comfortable enough even with the both of them fully encased up to their necks in the puffy fabric, and she almost couldn't help but to be suspicious that Finn's end game was to share this sleeping bag with someone all along. Silly human, he'd only have to ask, no need for reverse psychology and mind games. But then she realized this was Finn she was thinking about and how his intentions never run any deeper than face value. Marceline couldn't see Finn, the genuine goober he is, devise some elaborate plan entailing sleeping bags and psychological warfare all to result in getting her to sleep with him, speaking only in the most literal sense of the term.

Then Marceline realized something else. She was dreadfully uncomfortably laying in this position. "Finn. I need a pillow." she informed.

Disturbed once more from the verge of slumber, Finn exhaled audibly and cracked his sore and crusty eyes. Scanning about the surrounding darkness for something that might sate the relentless vampire's pestering, Finn peered a fairly large, stout stone not far from where they lay. Removing his arms from the confines of the sleeping bag he was now being forced to share, he grabbed hold of the rock and placed it by Marceline's head with a dull thud. "Use that." he instructed coarsely before returning to his previous position and trying once more to sleep.

Marceline stared at the rock in awe for a long moment before deciding it was a horrible candidate for a pillow. No, she'd need something softer, with some give. Something... Squishy. And per chance, it just so happened that there was something exceedingly squishy laying right beside her. So with no further thought or reasoning, Marceline curled herself around Finn and layed her head on the softest point she could find between his shoulder and chest.

"What the flip are you doing?" The hero questioned when feeling his friend's arms snake around his body.

"Shut up." she hissed, momentarily lifting her head from his chest to make eye contact. "You're lumpin' comfortable, so deal with it. Now lay there and be quiet like a good pillow." And with that, she nuzzled back into the fleshy swells of Finn's torso.

As awkward as this situation was, Finn couldn't deny that it was maybe even a little pleasant. But also mostly uncomfortable, for him at least. So to right this, Finn hauled his arm out from beneath the cuddly vampire and repositioned it around Marceline, so now they were in some ungraceful, and clearly completely platonic embrace. Nope, nothing going on here, just a couple o' bros in a sleeping bag is all. Snuggling? Naw, none of that going on here, bro.

Feeling Finn's arm wrap around her back and rest somewhere near her waist, reciprocating her cuddle, Marceline grinned into the adolescent adventurer's chest. "I know you're enjoying this, probably more than you're letting yourself believe, but don't expect it to happen often." She took a moment to glance back up to meet Finn's embarrassed gaze. "You just so happened to have been the most comfortable place for me to spend the night." Reaching up to play with the ears of Finn's hat, she added "Y'know, you're no Hambo, but you're quite the snuggly little bear."

Finn's face flushed skarlet, or maybe it never stopped being that color, he couldn't tell. But either way, he definitely felt significantly warmer around the collar after that remark. He wasn't too sure he liked being Marceline's 'snuggly bear', he imagined it might be something reminiscent of what Lady Rainicorn would call Jake, if she spoke english. And Finn for sure didn't think he was ready to have with Marceline what Jake had with Lady. But here they were, closer to any other girl than he'd ever been, unburnt by her touch and unscalded by any callous words that carelessly fell from her mouth.

Finn gave some thought to this and realized it wouldn't be so bad to be more than simply friends with Marceline. She was probably the greatest gal he knew, and almost certainly the least complicated, even if that's not saying all too much. But he could easily envision their relationship taking a turn for the romantic. By the time he'd worked up the courage to profess that thought to her, a rather obnoxious snore seized his attention. Finn snapped his eyes down in his bed buddy's direction to find she'd already fallen fast asleep. So, the adventurer, pushing all silly thoughts of relationships aside, closed his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening and was finally allowed rest.

It wasn't the muted sunlight shining through the leaves overhead, ticking at his eyelids, that woke Finn that morning, nor was it the stirring of the girl still in his arms. It was the earpiercing shriek of utter shock and surprise let loose from his older brother's agape maw. Finn's eyes shot open, sitting up quickly and turning his attention from Jake to Marceline, taking in the situation and how it might look to anyone outside of the sleeping bag.

"This probably isn't what it looks like!" Finn piped up defensively almost without thinking. His brain kicked in and told him that whenever someone says those particular words, it's almost always exactly what it looks like.

"Oh my grawd, dude! You guys didn't... Did you?" Jake gasped, flabbergasted. "Just tell me you kept it PG13, please."

"Dude, what the hey! We're both fully clothed, okay!" Finn stepped out of his sleeping bag to prove he was, in fact, not in the nude. "She just forgot to bring any camping gear, so I shared. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright... I guess I might have been overreacting a bit..." Jake mumbled ashamedly, averting his gaze from his two friends he just so blatently accused of indecency.

"A bit?" Finn chuckled. "It's a'ight man, let's just forget about it." Finn's stomach let out a low growl. "So what's for breakfast, homie?"

Jake felt a mite cheerier now that they'd moved on past that terrible misunderstanding. What an awful, horrible revelation to wake up to first thing in the morning. "Canned food, yo. It's all we got since we pollished off the marshmallows last night."

"Sounds good, man." Finn responded with a nod. He looked back to his vampire friend who was still wrapped in his sleeping bag. She was in a sitting position, watching the two brothers, holding the poofy top of the bag up to under her chin with strangely bare arms. "C'mon Marcie, stop being a lazy butt. It's time to get up." The human coaxed.

"Remember that thing you said about how we're both fully clothed?" she asked with a bashful smile. "If we've learned anything this morning, it's that you guys are great at jumping to conclusions." She motioned with her eyes, directing Finn and Jake's attention toward a pile of her discarded flannel shirt and ripped jeans.

"What the flip, Marceline!" Finn cried out, bordering on the hysterical.

"What, I got hot! Besides, it's not like I'm completely naked. Glob Finn, don't be such a perv!" Marceline huffed indignantly, floated up from the ground sleeping bag and all, snatched the shirt and pair of jeans from where they lay and was gone into the dense forest, presumably to get dressed.

"What in the flip just happened, Jake?" Finn asked flatly as he continued to stare dumbfoundedly out into the woods where he last saw the lunatic who wore his sleeping bag like a toga.

"Sounds like you're having girl troubles, bro." Jake answered, gingerly giving the confused human an empathetic pat on the back.

#finnceline #this is like 9 years old #But now there's fanfic in the tag

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

Hey There Delilah | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: When the quad runs into Win’s step-sister on the street, things get heated and Lydia stands up for herself and Win.

[ masterlist ]

——

"I can't believe the sun is actually out today, I feel like I haven't seen it in like forever," Win exclaimed, a grin stretching her face as she slipped her hand in her Nathan's and Lydia's, swinging their arms as she walked, looking more carefree than they'd seen her in days.

"Yeah, I feel like I was starting to go into vampire mode at this point," Lydia laughed, excited to see Win so happy. "I just hope my hair is okay, if the dye gets messed up I'm gonna punch someone."

"As long as it's not me," her Nathan mocked.

“Ooo you’d be a sexy vampire though,” Win pointed out with a laugh. As they turned the corner however, her grin faltered and disappeared.

"Shit..." Lydia mumbled under her breath, her gaze following Win’s.

"What? What'd I miss?" Lyddie's Nathan looked around confused until his clone nodded pointedly at the approaching blonde with a nasty aura and even nastier attitude.

“Delilah,” Win greeted tersely, her whole body tensing.

“Win,” she replied, wearing her usual fake smile. “What are the odds? We just saw you on tellie the other night. Didn’t know your man had a twin—“ she said, eyeing Lyddie’s Nathan appraisingly, “—or that you were into that sort of thing. But damn, I should have given you more credit,” she mused.

It took Lydia every single ounce of self-control not to jump on Delilah's neck when she stared at her fiancé like that. It also didn't help that she remembered in detail all the pranks, the rumors, and the teasing from when she was younger. She never really understood why someone would be so mean to a 12-year-old.

"Hey how's it--" Lyddie's Nathan began, only to be cut off when she elbowed him. "Okay," he mouthed apologetically.

“Oh yeah, definitely into that,” Win replied acerbically, though she wore a rather wry smile that didn’t reach her grey eyes. “Plus, this is my girlfriend too,” she said, pulling Lyddie closer to press a kiss to her cheek. “The sex is amazing by the way. Three at once will blow your mind.”

Delilah merely rolled her eyes.

"Definitely," Lydia held back her laughter, taken by a sudden fit of confidence. "It's a little demanding to have so many orgies, but it's definitely worth the effort. So glad you were able to see us on the red carpet though, it was so much fun, you should've been there."

“Oh, you thought I’d be impressed?” Delilah scoffed, eyeing each of them in turn. “I was gunna say, you’re actually more of a slag than I thought, Win.”

Win’s Nathan snorted, cutting in before anyone else could, his arm tightening protectively around Win’s waist, though he grinned lightly. “Aww someone’s jealous,” he pointed out. “Can’t exactly be a slag when you’re technically in a committed relationship with all your partners, but y’know.”

"Jesus, you're a bitch!" Lyddie's Nathan laughed. "How long has it been since someone gave you a good seein' to, love? Sounds like y'need it."

“Why, you volunteerin’?” Delilah countered, smirking at Lyddie’s Nathan and Win groaned.

"In your dreams." Lyddie's Nathan was ready to start a fight.

Lydia's blood was boiling, she knew this moment would eventually come, they couldn't avoid Win's family forever, but she never thought Delilah would be just plain rude like that. "Better to be a slag than an envious cunt who bullies kids, but that's just me..." she murmured quietly, half hoping no one would hear it.

The situation was clearly escalating and Win didn’t exactly want anyone throwing punches... even if Delilah deserved one. “C’mon guys, we’re gunna be late,” she said pointedly, giving Lyddie’s hand a tug.

"Yeah, let's go..." Lydia pulled her Nathan with them. She was anxious to get out of that situation, she hated confrontation, but something didn't sit right with her. "You know what? No, the time I used to let people walk all over me is over! I'm gonna go there and teach that bitch a fucking lesson!"

"Lollipop, there might be photographers..." her Nathan warned.

"I don't give a flying fuck! She can't talk to my girlfriend like that, hit on my fiancé, dump a bucket of piss on me, and run free!"

"She did what?" he winced.

"Lyddie, trust me, if anyone wants to slug Delilah, it's me, but..." Win trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't want any of us t'end up back in Community Service over this… or worse.”

"But baby... Community Service wasn't that bad," Lyddie argued. "Am I still that scared little girl who's just gonna run away from a bully? Nathan..." she looked for support from Win's Nathan, who grinned.

"Oh I agree, I mean, other than th'whole murderin' our probation workers and all that, Community Service wasn't all that bad. Besides, I never woulda met yeh otherwise, Win baby," he exclaimed. "Plus I bet Lyds would look hot as fuck punchin' that twat out."

"It's three against one, sorry," Lydia turned around to go after Delilah.

"Jesus..." Lyddie's Nathan followed her, wanting to at least make sure she didn't get hurt, but who was he kidding, she was a human fortress.

Win groaned, not moving for a moment, watching the others. "Alright, alright," she mumbled, reluctantly following after.

"Hey, hey there!" Lydia shouted when she spotted Delilah's tacky outfit in the crowd. There were some people around, but she didn't care. "I think you owe us an apology!"

Delilah turned around, frowning. "Oh, y'think that do you?" she scoffed. "I tell ya what, why don't you hold your breath."

Lyddie's Nathan let out a high-pitched laugh, thinking about how ironic it was that she actually didn't need to breathe that often with her power. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but you can't talk shit about people and expect nothing to happen. So, you can either apologize to my girlfriend and to me, or we can do things the hard way..." Lydia flashed the girl a hollow grin.

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Oh, the hard way huh? What are you?” she scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you. Scamper off now,” she exclaimed, making a shooing motion with her hand.

"What am I?" Lydia chuckled, fueled by rage. "I'm your worst nightmare, bitch."

"Okay, that was kinda hot..." her Nathan whispered, nudging his clone's arm.

Win’s Nathan raised his eyebrows at Lydia’s fiery comeback. “Yeah... that’s definitely hot,” he agreed, eyeing Win as she held back, watching. He knew how much she hated her step sister, so he wondered what was going on inside her head. Why wasn’t she saying anything? He thought she of all people would be in Lydia’s place.

"Just do yourself a favor, apologize to my girlfriend and to me, so we can move on and you won't go home crying to your mummy," Lydia tried to sound threatening, but it probably came off more as mockery than anything else. "And chop-chop cause we don't have all day, y’Paris Hilton wannabe."

Delilah’s mouth fell open and she turned back to face Lydia. “Are you seriously threatening me right now? No, I’m not gunna apologize to you or my slag of a step sister. You call me a wannabe? Look in the mirror, sweetheart. You think you’re hot shit because you’re some singer. Who gives a damn? You’re tacky is what you are. Your boyfriends are average and your girlfriend is a fucking slag who’s slept with half of Wertham by now. She’s such a fuck up her own dad wants nothing to do with her.”

For a second, all Lydia could do was laugh, thinking that had to be some kind of joke, but as she stared deep into Delilah's eyes, her anger grew. Without thinking twice, she tackled the other woman, which was easy taking in consideration that Lydia was taller.

"Some singer? Some singer who just won album of the year, bitch! What have you done? Huh? Didn't leave mama's house yet? If my boyfriends are so average why do you wanna shag them so bad?" Lyddie shouted, pinning the girl to the ground while her Nathan tried to glamor them so no one would see it.

"What you've done to me… you made my life hell on Earth, but I don't give a shit about that. You take back the things you said about my girlfriend! She's not a slag or a fuck up and if her dad doesn't want anything to do with her than he's the stupid one!"

"Get off me you stupid bitch!" Delilah shrieked, trying to push Lydia off. "I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about! I didn't do shit to you! Winrey! Get your crazy girlfriend off me! You think my mum's gunna let you get away with this!!"

Win's lips curled evilly, but all she did was cross her arms over her chest. "Sorry, D, you brought this on yourself," she murmured.

"Your mum can talk to me instead, how about that? So I can tell her that her daughter has been bullying children! I know what you did to Blossom Bellamy, remember her? You and your friend Karla decided to fuck her entire life up last year?" Lyddie's Nathan swallowed thickly, he didn't understand why he was so turned on when the situation was quite serious.

"Why do you care about Bellamy?" Delilah cried, confused as she continued to try to fend Lydia off, getting a few good swings in herself. "Jesus, you're fucking crazy! Winrey, I swear to God, I'm gunna make your life a living hell if you don't get this bitch off me!"

"I care about her because she's a defenseless child! You traumatized her for life, you fucking monster! And you're doing the same mind terrorism with my girlfriend, I won't stand for that!" Lydia's self-healing was coming in handy at the moment, whenever Delilah hit her, she barely had time to feel the pain. "I'm not scared of your mum, or your dad, or whoever the fuck you’re gonna cry to! Good luck telling everyone Lyddie Young did this to you... See who's gonna believe it." Lydia punched Delilah square in the face, drawing blood.

Win raised her eyebrows, but she looked more bored than anything, enjoying watching Lydia get her revenge, even if she knew this would probably come back to bite her in the ass. She knew Karen wouldn't let this go. Her Nathan glanced down at her however, sensing an underlying tension and he placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Win?"

Win tensed further at his touch, but she didn't look at him, just kept her eyes on Lydia and Delilah.

"Yeah, well, now I'm gunna go to the fuckin' police!" Delilah was crying now, tears streaming down her face. "You're not gunna get away with this!" she sobbed.

"Good luck finding your witnesses, princess," Lydia taunted, ready to throw another punch, but her Nathan lifted her up as you would do with a kitten.

"That's enough, that was worth an apology and a half," he said, holding his fiancé tightly in his arms.

"Can you make my fingerprints vanish? Don't leave a single trace of me on her," Lyddie whispered.

"Yeah yeah, leave it to me..." he snapped his fingers.

"Are you alright, baby?" Lydia turned and finally noticed Win's face.

Win nodded slowly, her gaze flicking past Lydia and Nathan to where Delilah was pushing herself up as people walked past, as if not even seeing her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Win answered, a hollowness to her voice, making her Nathan frown slightly. "It was good to see you tackle her," she chuckled, sounding a little more like herself.

"I did it for you," Lyddie wrapped her arms tightly around Win. "I know you're tense, but relax, she got what she deserved... I'm fine, see? Not one scratch."

"Jesus, that was... I wish I had a camera, where's Barry with his stupid phone when we need him?" Lyddie's Nathan grunted.

"Y'know you have a phone, right?" Win's Nathan pointed out with a laugh as Win wrapped her arms around Lyddie.

"I'm glad you're okay, I never doubted you for a moment," she murmured. "I'm not sure what's up with me," she admitted. She'd wanted to take out her frustrations on her step sister for so long, so she couldn't understand why she felt so strange.

"So do you! I was glamourin' them, what's your excuse?" Lyddie's Nathan stuck his tongue out.

“I-I don’t know!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, giving his clone a playful shove. He still felt worried about Win. He knew something was going on with her, he just didn’t know what.

"Well, maybe we should get to our movie, yeah?" Lydia pecked Win's lips before dusting herself off. "You guys are gonna love Percy Jackson, it's not as good as the musical but still..."

“Right, yeah, the movie,” Win exclaimed, letting Lydia pull her away down the street. It was just as they’d gotten to the theatre, Lyddie getting their tickets that Win’s phone rang and she flinched as she looked at the screen. “It’s my dad...” she murmured, looking to her Nathan.

“D’you want me t’answer it?” he asked softly.

"Hey, guys, I got tickets! Are you ready for some lightning stealing demigods and young Logan Lerman action?" Lydia squeaked as she joined the rest of the group. "I can get us popcorn and... what happened?"

"It's Win's dad," Lyddie's Nathan explained. "The Wicked Bitch o'the West must've told him."

"Do you want me to take it?" Lydia asked, feeling suddenly courageous.

“No, it’s fine,” Win exclaimed, biting her lip. She was half tempted not to take it at all, but she knew that would only make things worse. “I.. I can talk to him,” she said, though it wasn’t very assuring.

"Put it on speaker then, this way you don't have to do it alone," Lyddie held Win from behind, kissing her cheek. "Don't be scared, we're here for you, Winnie baby."

Win nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, that might be for the best,”she murmured, accepting the call and holding the phone out so the others could hear. “Hello?”

“Winrey Jane Lewis, is it true?”

“Is what true?” she replied, her dad’s voice full of disappointment more than anger.

“Did you and your friends assault your sister?” he asked incredulously.

“She’s not my sister,” Win grumbled stonily. “And no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Win, please. Don’t test me. She sent us a picture, she’s bleeding and covered in bruises, and she said it was you and your boyfriend and some girl. Now is it true?”

Lydia tried not to laugh at the image of Delilah sending a picture to Win's dad to show how messed up she was. Come on, Lyds, this is serious! "I don't know what this is about, do you know what this is about, Natty?" she covered her smile. "There were some security cameras around, you can always check them..."

Win’s Nathan nodded, glancing back toward where they’d come from. Spotting a couple traffic cameras he snapped his fingers and gave a flourish, a focused look on his face before turning back to them. “This power comes in awful handy,” he mused.

“No, dad, I don’t know what she’s on about. She musta... tripped and fell on her face or somethin’.” There was a long pause as her dad sighed and Win could just imagine him running his hand down his face in exasperation. “She is rather clumsy...” he replied slowly, though he knew it was a lie.

"How awful of her trying to pin this onto us..." Lydia fake cried, while high-fiving Win's Nathan and blowing him a kiss. "She must be imagining things."

"Truly, truly horrible..." Lyddie’s Nathan whispered, laughing against her neck, while she tried to slap him away to hear the conversation. Oh, she couldn't wait to tell Simon she was finally able to give that bitch a beating, he was gonna be so proud!

“What I’m more worried about... Winrey, is it true what she said... about you dating three people at the same time?” Win’s dad asked reluctantly. “You know how I feel about the one you brought over here, but we saw you on tv the other night and Delilah...” he cut off with a heavy sigh. “It doesn't sound natural!”

Win grimaced, unsure how to answer. Of course she was dating three people at the same time, two of which were technically the same person.

"Hey, hello sir," Lydia took the phone when she noticed Win's discomfort. She was really on a roll, after getting a taste of blood she wanted more. "Hi, Mr. Lewis, I'm Lyddie, your daughter's girlfriend. I can assure you there's nothing unnatural about our relationship at all... actually nature is pretty non-monogamist if you think about it. You don't have anything to worry about really..."

Win bit her lip as Lydia took the phone, but her Nathan wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning over her to kiss her cheek. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, love,” he whispered in her ear and she nodded reluctantly.

Win’s father heaved a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I just... I just want her to be happy,” he admitted, sounding torn and Win snorted. It almost seemed like he wanted to say more, but held back, not wanting to be rude to Lydia. “Just... don’t attack Delilah again. It could have been a wind up, she’s pulled those before to get what she wants, but if it happens again, I don’t think I can hold her mother off. Alright?”

"I can guarantee, sir, we're making Win very happy," Lydia winked at her, trying to make her feel better. It seemed like living with two Nathans was slowly rubbing off on her. "Besides we're all pacifists, we would never attack Delilah, we had a very civil conversation, that's all. But you might wanna look into your step daughter's behavior, you know the name calling, the mean pranks... you might have a certified Veruca Salt on your hands, Mr. Lewis."

“Oh, he knows he that,” Win muttered, taking the phone back from Lyddie. “He just has no backbone.”

Putting the phone to her ear she sighed. “There, you happy dad?” she demanded.

“Not really,” he answered with a huff. “I wish you’d come home—“

“That place is not my home,” she cut in.

“I’m home here with Nathan and Lyddie and...” Shaking her head she changed the subject. “Unless you wanna make more of an effort. Piss off.”

“Wait! Winrey, I lo—“ She ended the call before he could finish, a strange look on her face.

“There, now that that’s done, we’re probably late to our move,” she scowled.

"No, baby, we probably just missed the trailers... and even if we are a little late it only gets interesting after Percy goes to Camp Half Blood anyways, come here," Lydia pulled Win into a hug, waving her hand so the Nathans would join. "I love you, Winnie, if Delilah wants to set her mother onto us, so be it, but I'm not scared of anyone... Not anymore." She thought for a second and huffed a laugh. "Well, maybe I'm scared of some people, but not them."

A small smile spread across Win’s lips as she slipped her arms around Lydia, burying her face in her chest. “I love you too. You were pretty amazing today,” she murmured, feeling more arms envelope them.

She was right. This was her home, these people, and the fierce amount of love she felt for them gripped her stronger than before.

——

Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @xenteaart @gurlimtired @phoenixhits @nightingale-rose @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @captainsheeballs

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #collaboration #my writing #timeline anomaly’verse

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

Text

Primus Help the Outcasts 4

Prowl felt a familiar frame wide ache as his consciousness returned. It had been a while since his last crashed, but he supposed one had been bound to be building. He onlined his optics and turned his helm from side to side. A chest with drawers, large pieces of art on the wall. Low tables on each side of the berth and a bench at the foot. Trickets covered geometric shelves on the wall. Where was he? This was not their room in the shelter. This was not a medicentre room or a hotel room. This was someone’s berthroom. Whose? Lockdown’s. Prowl bolted upright, struggling to free his arms from the blankets as the door opened and Jazz stepped inside.

“Good, y’re up,” he declared, smiling.

“Where am I?” Prowl asked.

“My procreators’ hab,” Jazz explained. “Ya crashed. Do ya remember?”

“A little,” Prowl replied as he rubbed his helm. “There is a lot of static.”

“I brought ya upstairs ‘cause Ori didn’t want ya layin’ on the cold floor ‘til ya came ‘round,” Jazz revealed. He placed a cube on the berthside table. “How ya feelin’?”

“Sore,” Prowl replied, dropping his servos to his lap. “I am always sore after a crash.”

“What do yer self-dianostics say?”

“I do not have any. They went offline when my repair nanites expired.”

“Had a feelin’ that’d be the case, from the look o’ ya,” Jazz said, he sat on the edge of the berth, next to Prowl. “I got a cube o’ medgrade here for ya. Think ya can drink it?”

“I think so,” Prowl replied. Jazz uncapped the energon and placed the cube in Prowl’s servos. Prowl brought it to his lipplates and drank. It was a little bitter, but medgrade usually was. There must have been additional additives in it because when Prowl swallowed the thick blue fuel seemed to settle his queasy fuel tank. “Thank you.”

“Figure it was our fault. They hassled ya more than I’d thought they would.”

“I crash,” Prowl said. Flicking his doorwings, though the movement was still. Everything hurt but it did not feel like he had managed to dent himself. That was something, at least. “It is not their fault I am a glitch.”

“Do ya need a blocker?” Jazz asked. His optics brightened and dimmed at the slur. It had been a long time since Prowl had thought of himself or spoken of himself in such a manner but Primus below, Prowl was so tired of all of this scrap. He shook his helm.

“I am sensitive to them. I do not want to be addled around my mechlings. They need me functional... What times is it?”

“Chronometer out?”

“It is unreliable.”

“Once we get some mass on ya, it should sort itself out,” Jazz replied. “I’ll pick up the mechlings in half a joor. Ya best stay in berth a while longer.”

“I cannot spend all mega-cycle in your procreators’ berth.”

“Once they finish up upstairs ya can move into yer own berth.”

“I was not sure if I remembered that correctly,” Prowl said. They had been talk while his processor had been buzzing. They had asked for their favourite colours.

“It’s just two berthrooms,” Jazz explained. “But I think the mechlings won’t mind sharing too much.”

“They have been recharging in the same berth as me,” Prowl revealed. “They will probably relish the space. Someone broke into our room the first dark-cycle. They looked, stepped towards the berth they were sharing... They ran out when I sat up. I have not been able to recharge since.”

“‘M sorry,” Jazz said, softly. “For this memory purge ya been livin’. Y’re all gonna be safe now. Once y’re healthy, me ‘n my procreators, we’ll find ya work. But I don’t think y’re up for anythin’ right now.”

“I do not have any saving,” Prowl said, bunching the blanket fitfully in his servos. “I only have four emergency rations left for the mechlings. I need to work now.”

“Ya need to rest, so ya get healthy,” Jazz replied. “I got ya covered.”

“I have no way to repay you,” Prowl said. There was a harmonic in his glyphs. He had no way he wanted to repay Jazz. Prowl might have been a bit more desperate than he had been when he had refused Lockdown and then the priest. But he still did not want to pay for housing by laying on his back. He was not that desperate yet. Maybe in a few mega-cycles.

“I don’t want anythin’ from ya, Prowl,” Jazz said, decisively. “When I came back to Simfur after doin’ some tours wit the Elite Guard, I had nothin’. It was just me ‘n the Twins. My kin were in Polihex had stuck optic deep in their own scrap. It took’em six more vorns to follow me. Master Yoketron helped us out. He gave us a place to stay. Gave me work. He woulda done the same for ya. He would want me to do the same for ya.”

“Thank you. I do not know how to process this kindness.”

“S’okay. I know it’s hard,” Jazz squeezed his servo and Prowl believed, actually believe he could trust him. “I know ya got that med-alert etchin’... crashes are part o’ a processor defect? Right?”

“Yes.”

“All the same, do ya think ya outta be seen to by a medic? Have ya been seen by a medic?”

“After we were recovered. Other than some minor dents, my creations were physically unharmed. Mentally... Bluestreak onlines screaming sometimes. Nothing soothes him save for being held to my spark. Smokescreen does not tolerate being touched much at all.”

“And you?”

“It was noted that my injuries were minor for one claiming to have been gang raped.”

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed and shook his helm. “So ya were ‘sposed to fight ‘til they decided yer younglin’ would be easier prey, or til they killed ya? That’s scrap. That medic ain’t worth their patch.”

“They made him watch,” Prowl said, with a stuttering intake. “So he would learn to please them. I had to protect him.”

“Of course,” Jazz replied and he held Prowl’s servos as he started to cry. “Of course ya did. Y’re a good ori. Y’re all gonna be okay. Ya just need a safe space, ‘n time to heal.”

Prowl loathed weakness, at least in himself, but here he was crying in front of a stranger. A stranger he had poured out his spark to, revealed his ugly humiliation to and here Jazz was, patiently comforting and reassuring. Realistically, Prowl knew he had been pushed to the brink and had pushed himself still further and he knew the crash would only be the first of many if he did not restore his beleaguered self repair systems. He knew his creations needed him to hold the centre but it was bitterly hard when he was so tired and scared and stressed. Jazz stayed with Prowl for the half joor before he needed to go to collect the mechlings. Prowl thought he should go. Smokescreen got out first. He always went and got Bluestreak while Prowl hung back because he loathed being stared at with such brazen scorn. Smokescreen would got with Jazz, he trusted his tutor. Jazz was trustworthy.

“Nap a lil more,” Jazz said as he rose to go collect their creations. “Ya need it.”

He could not imagine recharging with his current frame of processor. Prowl sank back into the soft blanket and pillows. His processor went fuzzy around the edges. Prowl was forced to admit he had reached the limits of his processor and his frame. Jazz and his procreators had been moved enough by his revelations to help, but Prowl new generosity had its limits. In any case, it a precarious thing to rely on another’s generosity for survival. There was no telling how long it would take before they, or rather Prowl, wore out his welcome. Though Prowl needed to plan and more than anything needed to think, he found his consciousness slipping down and down until he knew nothing at all.

“O’gin,” Bluestreak exclaimed as he crawled onto Prowl’s chassis and nuzzled his face. Prowl looked at his creation with bleary optics and reached up to ruffled his helm.

“Brightspark,” he said, voice soft. “How was school?”

“Good! We had a class feast! Master Jazz said you had crash.”

“I am alright, Bluestreak,” Prowl said, he had to be after all. “Jazz and his procreators were kind enough to take care of me.”

“I like them. They’re nice,” Bluestreak declared as he smiled down at his originator. His doorwings never stopped moving, but that was normal. They were always fluttering. Always talking. “Punch said you needed your rest so we let you recharge but it’s time for dinner.”

“Oh!” Prowl optics cleared as his battle computer fitfully surged. “I recharged that long?”

“Ya obviously needed it,” Jazz said from the doorway, and Prowl jerked his helm so quickly his helm throbbed as he looked to his host.. “We got dinner on the table. If ya think yer up for gettin’ up.”

“Of course,” Prowl said. Bluestreak climbed off of his chassis, letting Prowl sit up. The world did not exactly spin but it did tilt.

“Just don’t push yerself.”

#primus help the outcasts #maccadams #valveplug #tw rape #tw child molestation #tf jazz #tf prowl #etc

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unprediictability · 3 years

Text

[ ARON PIPER, HE/HIS & THEY/THEM, MALE ALIGNED NON-BINARY ] — [ ABEL FIROETTI-BADEAUX ] is a grandchild of [ APHRODITE & ZEUS ] with the power of [ CHARMSPEAK & ELECTROKINESIS ] . they were born in [ 1997 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2016 ] . with the change, they [ HAVE GRADUATED FROM ] the [ AMBASSADOR ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ posting on instagram & keeping up to date on all the latest trends ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ SUN ] building . — maeve / she/her / cst / 18+.

meet abel firoetti-badeaux:

about:

growing up in the public eye has placed an incredible amount of pressure on abel. this was only fueled by their parents, who in wanting the best for their child, pushed them to excel. and abel did excel, they were the perfect child. on the outside.

on the inside, they were struggling to live up to the expectations. struggling to be perfect. and this led to more than a few angry outbursts and a good amount of healthy, teenage rebellion. and ultimately, to neaman lion. though it was worth mentioning, it was always sort of expected that they’d attend.

they selected the ambassador path, it felt right, and it was a good fit. they’ve always had a strong social media presence, they’re charming, they know what the people want. it makes sense that they’re an influencer, though they make an effort not to behave like a typical influencer. they don’t ask for free handouts, they pay for things.

but despite having everything they could ask for, abel has always wanted more from life. they crave substance, they want to do something that means something. they’ve tried to channel this into doing outreach and volunteer work and raising awareness on their platforms, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. and those closest to them have started to pick up on how unhappy they are.

fun facts:

abel has modeled on a professional level, something they enjoyed. they wouldn’t make a career out of it, but it’s worth mentioning.

they’ve always had an incredible fashion sense, helped in part by their parents fortune. they’ve been known to push the boundaries, wearing dresses and skirts on occasion.

abel loves nail polish, but also sucks at painting their own nails. so they’ve settled on getting regular manicures, which they don’t mind, self care is important.

their biggest vice is smoking and they know it’s bad which is why they try to hide it. i’m taking secretly sneaking out to smoke, smoking in a bathroom. it’s not pretty, but stress keeps driving them back.

abel is the kind of person who wears dress shoes without socks. they like the exposed ankle look.

they like to party, but they’ve always managed to stay out of the papers. meaning no wild, out of control partying. but it’s also not uncommon for them to bring someone home after a night out.

they have a temper, something they’ve done a good job at keeping in check but every once in a while they explode.

they bite their lip - when they’re nervous, worried, bored, dozing off, basically all the time.

character inspiration:

nate archibald (gossip girl), flash thompson (spider-man), ronan lynch (the raven cycle), william magnusson (skam), tyler lockwood (the vampire diaries), jackson avery (greys anatomy)

limitations:

[ CHARMSPEAK ]: considered to be a rare power, it was unheard of for legacies to possess it. but as the child of a powerful charmspeaker, perhaps it makes sense. though, they haven’t put much thought into it. in fact, they remained unaware of this ability for most of their life, wrongfully assuming they possessed a nature charm. it was only after their arrival at nl, when they saw how differently people reacted that they put two and two together. they’re far from mastering this ability, but they have learned to use it to their advantage, though it’s also worth noting they tend to avoid using it on other demigods- when they’re actively controlling it that is.

[ ELECTROKINESIS ]: unlike their charmspeak abilities, they have always been aware of this ability. however, similar to charmspeak they don’t fully understand this ability. and admittedly, they haven’t spent much time working on learning to control it. therefore, it makes sense that they have yet to gain control of this ability. the few times they’ve successfully controlled lightning have been out of anger, and it’s left them incredibly exhausted. with training they might gain a better understanding and control of this ability, but they haven’t shown any desire to take this step.

pinterest board: coming soon

playlist: coming soon

wanted connections:

FULL SIBLINGS. two-three, younger than abel. they’d have a combination of french & italian names bc their parents are those people. i think they’d be close but not too close, ya know ?? they’d get on each other’s nerves but at the end of the day, they’d have each others backs.

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY. they could have been everything, they should have been everything but for whatever reason they weren’t. and abel told themselves they were alright, but they aren’t. letting them go was the single biggest mistake of their life. but they’re too damn stubborn to say anything.

HOOKUPS. what can i say, abel enjoys having sex. open to male, female, nb. they can be serious, they can be a one night-stand.

FLINGS. open to male, female, or nb. former or current. they’re fun until they aren’t, or they start getting serious and abel panics and runs.

BEST FRIEND. their other half, their person. think shawn & gus (psych), meredith & christina (greys), phoebe & joey (friends). they arent without fights, but at the end of the day they’re as thick as thieves.

FRIEND GROUP. think of the core friend group from the original gossip girl. they don’t have to be rich, but just like the general dynamic.

@nlupdates

#❝ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀᴄɪssɪsᴍ — abel fioretti–badeaux ⧸ about.#nlintro #nltask

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boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 93

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts

Summary: Alfie is never far from paranoia. But he and Genevieve both find that it's granted when it seems like the whole of London could be out to get them.

Warnings/Tags: Crime. Canon typical everything.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

There were only a handful of men in the abandoned warehouse in London this night. A location well suited, as gloomy and shady as their business practices. The cover of smog and fog from the nearby canal both serving as cover for their 'off the book' transactions. Despite their dastardly reputations, if these few men had somehow all been taken out at one time, the city would’ve plunged into bloody chaos that would lead to more trouble than already fell upon their territories.

They were a motley crew to be sure, all with twitching hands and shifty eyes. Not an ounce of trust to be found between any of them. They’d been called to this neutral ground on the guise there was a threat looming over them all. But since when wasn't there one? This desperate claim had been made by Niko, the newest head of the Greek gang who was less than a year into leading after assassinating his father. He was being met with much criticism. The decision to bring together the gangs and criminal leaders of London tonight would be met with the same disdain.

The men stood in their big coats with deep pockets, their seconds in the shadows of the dimly lit and dusty warehouse. Niko stood self-assured in his shirt with the rolled-up sleeves to show his heavy and dark forearms, hair black and slicked away from a strong masculine face. He was feeling accomplished for the ability to get all these infamous people together, and if he’s been smarter he would have actually done something with the occasion. You had the drug runners, the triads, who expected the threat to be from another country. The Sicilians who were known for their brothels thought perhaps new law enforcement might’ve been a threat to their money-making. The English boys and their known violence with the protection rackets they ran, this being their home and all, were worried about the Americans coming in and trying to disrupt the well-established lines in the sand for territories. There were bookmakers and gambling den owners, none who wanted their flows disrupted. Sabini, perhaps the most intelligent of them all had been over the race tracks for some time now, only sharing the space by negotiation or force with the Peaky boys or the Jews. And he couldn’t help but notice neither of which were at this gathering.

Sabini, looking at his pocket watch with a hard face knows Alfie wouldn’t be one to be late, and seeing as he knew the rumors of he and Nikos falling out, his suspicions were growing by the ticks of the watch hands. His faith this would be worth his while was dwindling just as quickly.

“I suppose you are the ones who are going to show...shame not everyone could hear this.” Niko begins, standing from his perched spot on a large wooden crate. “I know you have heard of a joining of powers to be happening soon. And I believe we should all take this as a threat.”

“What are the bloody Americans doin' now?” Billy Hill, one of the English roughens groans.

“No Americans.” Niko corrects and most of the men in the room go through relief and then a feeling of ‘then what?’. “One of London’s own and the French.” He begins.

Sabini groans audibly.

“I’m serious!” Niko insists with eyes that say he’s telling the truth. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that the Jew Alfie Solomons and that French whore Genevieve Durand are getting married.”

“Fucks sake.” Is the grumble of choice that works its way around the crowd.

“We can’t have her alliances and the Jews pairing! It’ll throw off the balance we’ve worked so hard to achieve!”

“And how is Solomons marrying going to affect anyone but him?” The annoyed lead of the Asian gangs calls out.

“This Durand is no ordinary woman.” Niko compulsorily insists.

“Yeah, we know you’re sweet on her.” Sabini mutters.

“This is about her French connections. Parliament, the gypsies, and the Irish! All of them will be with Solomons and not against him now because of her.”

“Look. She’s the godmother of a Shelby baby. That hardly calls for panic. She’s the niece of a French Jew, who has NO footing here. Those are not alliances. You’re acting like a bloody woman, so dramatic.” Sabini purses his lips.

“We all know what Horne did to her.” Billy interjects. “If you think she’s a threat after a wallop like that you’re mad. Alfies the one ya gotta watch for, and you know those Jews, they get all sentimental about their wives. This could work in our favor if he’s gone soft for the bird.”

“I do not think underselling Solomons is a good move. You saw what he did to Horne.” The Asian lead reminds them.

“That shows how unstable he is!” Niko yells.

“Well he didn’t kill his own father now did he?” One of the bookmakers snarks.

“Everyone agreed to that!” Niko shouts, his anger showing at not getting his way.

“Yeah and I think everyone’s agreeing that we don’t give a fuck about the hard prick you’ve got for Solomons woman and how you want us to the dirty work to take him out of the picture.” Billy’s known brash remarks surprise no one.

“That’s not what this is about. She’ll be trouble! I'm telling you. She’s a sly one. Don’t underestimate her. She could be a loose cannon and telling Solomons what to do, and with the men she’s got behind her she could try to take over the city!”

Everyone but Niko laughs. “Her? Telling ALFIE what to do?” Sabini laughs and wipes away an imaginary tear to sell his point. “You daft boy, listen… she’s a woman yeah? She’s gonna get married and shit out a few little kykes and fall into place. Same as the rest. It’s what they DO.”

“She’s not like other women.” Niko growls.

“We know you’re sore about losin' her to a old man like Solomons, yeah?”

“Maybe she prefers the cut cocks.” Someone remarks and a chuckle passes through the group.

“More like the money.” Another adds and a general nod of agreement moves in a wave across the room.

“LISTEN!” Niko shouts in anger. “I think this marriage is a bad idea. She’s been knocked senseless, attacking people in public, and we know Solomons can be unpredictable. Look what he did to Horne!?”

“A man’s love and loyalty to a woman is fueled by an ancient fire. He was within his right to do that.”

“As poetic as that is,” Sabini rolls his eyes “I’ve known Alfie longer than any of you. And if I say there’s no reason to react then there’s not.” He states clearly with the wheels in his head turning his unspoken thoughts.

“He burned down half the city for that woman. He threw a tantrum like a child and bypassed so many of our unspoken rules in the name revenge.” Niko screeches.

“Like you now, yeah?” Sabini snarks. “You have no business with either of them now. Because YOU threw a fit? Remember?” Niko puffs up in shame. “Why do you care? Why are you wasting our time?” Sabini gestures with his hands and gives Niko a disgusted expression for bringing them there “If ya gonna call us all up, Why not talk about the upcoming elections? Or how they're clearing out the slums and breaking up all our established territories?” The reaction from the group is a unanimous groan of agreement. “Those are real fuckin’ things to worry about. If you’re so concerned about women in power why not go after the fucking labour party too?” Sabine’s experience overrides Niko and his barely thought out objections.

The group laughs and makes Niko feel small and childish. A feeling he hated as the youngest son and one he hadn’t felt since his father died. It did him and no one else any favors to light that pain within him again. For it was the one that lead him to kill the last man who caused it. But now that he had the attention of the entire family. ho knows how he would lash out next time he reached his breaking point?

For as crass and disrespectful as Sabini was, he wasn’t the dumbest criminal in London by a long shot. He’d thought about what Niko said after patronizing him in front of everyone. Even though he didn’t agree, he did have a few points of sense that he hadn’t meant to make. Alfie would be having to change up his repertoire. He had Shelby in Parliament and an uncle in law that was the head of a crime family. Albeit was in France, but clout was clout and bodies were bodies when fighting broke out. Sabini didn’t think Gen would be a problem, as he had heard of her seriousness with her newly found Judaism and expected her to be a good little wife and let her husband rule the roost. But Sabini only knew of the slurs and stereotypes for the Jewish people, not so much their beliefs. Because if he had, he’d know what sort of power, Gen, as the wife would hold in their household. Instead, he saw an opportunity to mend things with Alfie. A peace offering for the joyous occasion so it wouldn’t seem suspicious. As he had said, he knew Alfie. He knew what he was capable of and what a pain in the arse he could be. He’d like to make things easier, not harder so he knows it’s time to make a truce, to show him he wasn’t a threat. Sabini knew it was time to reach out to an old school mate. Because he most certainly didn’t want Alfie Solomons on his bad side.

———

Genevieve’s giggle could be heard from the other side of her bedroom door. The raised hand to knock hesitates.

“Do I have to do it?” The young boy winces, fearing interrupting Solomons during his time with his fiancé.

“Oh fucking-c’mon!” Claire gruffs and shoves him out of the way. “Gen? Alfie? Pardon the interruption but we have some little birds with news out here.

The groan of Alfie can be heard, rolling to his back and throwing his arm dramatically. “WOT THEY WANT?” He shouts as Gen pops out of bed to throw his pants at him and slide on a gown before slinking back into bed. “WHO is it?” He asks quickly after.

“One of yours and one of Genevieve’s.”

“Both?” She hears the women in question ask.

“Come in.” Alfie commands, now sitting up with the covers pulled up under his arms.

“Go on.” Claire shoves the two young boys into the room who feel immediately as if they were trespassing. She stands in the doorway so they cannot leave and watches them creep forward.

“Ya gonna speak or what?” Alfie asks with a jut of his chin.

“Yes sir.” The taller of the two mumbles as he steps forward.

“Come to the foot of the bed and speak up.” Genevieve directs with much more kindness in her tone, directing them with a pointed finger.

“Yes ma’am.” The boy keeps his eyes lowered, his hat being wrung in his hands, a clear ring of sweat around his collar. “Who first?”

“You dear, you’ve been employed the longest,” She explains to Alfie's nervous spy. “Seniority.” She nods.

“Yes ma’am. There was news of a meeting last night.”

After a pause, Alfie makes a rolling motion with his hand. “Anything else to go wif that to make it useful?”

“Downtown they saw some men meeting in one of the old warehouses.”

“Some men?” Genevieve tries to get more out of the boy.

“Gangsters, ma’am.”

“Mmmph. And who?”

“Only person I was told the Greeks.”

“Fuckin ell.” Alfie sighs. “That all ya got?”

“Yes sir.”

“I have more.” The smaller of the two adds sheepishly.

“Then out wif it.” Alfie demands loudly.

“The Greek was there first, then some of the English Hill lads and the bookmaker Comer. Triads, Sabini, and the other Italians.”

“Now that’s the kinda report I need yeah?” Alfie says in a fatherly tone to his informer.

“Is that all?” Genevieve pries a final time.

“No one was inside to hear what was said but no shots or shoutin' and it was over very quickly. No one we knew was there.”

Alfie hums with narrowed eyes in thought. “What of the fascists?”

“No political men, only the kind what run the streets like you, sir.”

“Good lad.” He nods in approval.

“Claire pay them their due.” Genevieve points her way. “Leave with her boys, thank you.”

“Give the missus boy more,” Alfie calls out and the young one's eyes blink with surprise. “We reward detail. Leave nothing to interpretation when ya can lads.”

“Yes sir.” In unison comes from the shabby pair.

After the door is shut behind them the minds of the two business owners are piecing together what they had.

“Of course I wasn’t invited to this but I’m assuming you weren’t as well?”

“No,” Alfie says with a slow shake of his head. “No Jews at all actually.”

“But no fascists. Curious.”

“Not about us then.”

“Not as a whole, no. But Niko…”

“Yeah that... fuckers up to somefin.”

“I’ll keep an ear out, poke around at my retailers today.”

“Good, good. I know I can lean heavily on paranoia…”

“It’s kept you alive this long.” Genevieve smirks. “Listen to your gut, always.”

“But no one you run wif was there. None of ours. Leads one to believe this might be personal, yeah?”

“I do agree. We know the man isn’t happy about us. Now we're being left out and those with known loyalty to us are as well. I don’t believe that to be paranoia so much as putting together a bigger picture. Perhaps you could ask-“

“Sabini, yeah.” He finishes her thought.

“Mmm Hmm. He’s been behaving as of late. Due for another check-in I’d say.”

“And I’d say you’re right.”

———————-

Sabini happened to have reached out to Solomons for a meeting before Alfie had the chance to initiate. Alfie knew this meant one of two things, that Sabini needed him, or he needed Sabini. Or perhaps a third option of both? Alfie was prepared for all outcomes as he prided himself in.

For anyone else the smugness on Derby’s face, set to its usual twitch of him acting as if he’d smelled shit, would’ve been an indicator of which option was on the table for discussion. But this observation was useless against someone like Sabini. He didn’t give himself away until you dug in close and arrogance was his base nature.

He waltzed in like some greyscale silent film star with shiny shoes and a coat draped over his shoulders. His appearance next to Alfie gives nothing away that they were both raised in the same streets as the learned posh facade Sabini had long practiced to appear authentic. Alfie even has the passing thought of observing Sabini’s practiced measures of sitting down to be a tad too feminine at this point but that was neither here nor there, he supposes.

Alfie’s nose twitches both from his business mate’s luxury cologne and his impatience for the small talk. He was only interested in faux comradery if he could benefit from it. Sabini was lamenting on the state of the cabinet, the changes, and the way the kids no longer remembered the war and it was leading in directions he didn’t particularly care for. Perhaps it was an attempt to be personable, but Alfie had no time for such things when it came to someone who he’d known since before his balls dropped.

Alfie perks up his demeanor, hands flat and wide on his old wooden desk, dust unsettling as he hit heavily against the top. “Now DERBY… “He clears his throat, lips pooching out ever so slightly to appear in thought, but it was clearly making a mockery of the behavior of Sabini. “We could, y’know, sit and listen to you talk out ya arse ‘bout shit no one gives a FUCK about.” he blinks rapidly and nods his head with his low brow directed at his associate. “Or we could just skip it, the gossipin’ like the birds ‘n that, and get down to business. Like men.” his tongue punctuates against his teeth to show through his deepened voice that he meant what he said. In case Derby had forgotten.

“Now for what it’s worth, your precision is something I always did like about you Alfie.”

“Compliments ain’t like you now, Derby, old friend. Should I pull me cock out for those sweet words or do you want to get to your fucking point?”

With a slight wince of his lips, Sabini takes a deep breath to crispen his delivery. “I am here as a show of good faith, right? I have some information that you need and I want to discuss how this might affect us in the future.”

“Us?” Alfie laughs and sits back in his chair with a smug grin. “Presumptuous, innit?”

“Yes. Us, Alfie.” Sabini states with the annoyance already showing through in his voice.

“Go on then.” a demanding hand motions forth from the leather chair.

“The Greeks are trying to upset the truces.”

“Ahhh.” Alfie groans. “Always the fuckin’ Greeks, yeah? If not then it’s the Italians.” he jokes.

Sabini chose to ignore the jab. “I have the information you want. But I need something from you in return.”

“How do you know I need it? How do you know, yeah? That I don’t already know?” Alfie's lip curled up almost in an almost childish taunt.

“Because you aren’t reaching out to anyone. You’d be doing damage control if you knew. Gettin’ all the little ducks in a row to keep everyone in line.”

“You are being rather bold, y’know, there mate... Don’t much care for it to be honest. Arrogance, innit? Which means, you tellin' me how you think I fuckin’ run things, which you can fuck RIGHT OFF with, mate, respectively, I mean that Derby old mate… THAT indiscretion leads me to believe, yeah? That you do genuinely think that the information you have is valuable.” he taps the desk in front of him to demand the information with not only his words. “So what is it that you think is so important that you’d come down here to mingle among us… dirty dust bin lids, I believe is what you call us.

“I need something from you in return.”

Alfie throws his hands up half way, “Let me ask you this Derby, in all seriousness now lad, Are you thick? Are you lame? NO! No, listen ‘cause that statement was something an imbecile would say to a man like me.”

Sabini sighs and rolls his eyes, “Me ‘n you go way back Alfie. We’ve been enemies, and we’ve been friends. And isn’t it much better when we’re friends?”

“Oh yeah, mate.”

“I need us to be on the same side here. We grew up together. Immigrant lads and the like. We know war, we know the streets, we have an advantage here as a pair and I want to propose we work together instead of apart for the foreseeable future.”

“Mmm.” is Alfie’s only response. Best you stay silent and let the other man do the talking.

“Can you agree to that? We can do it formally, with your contracts and that. I know how your lot loves to have documentation of everything.”

“Can ya fuckin’ blame us? What with whats’ goin’ on out there?”

“That’s why we need to work together.”

“How’s about you tell me what this information is and I will tell you if it’s worth me workin’ with a man like you? You Italians aren’t known for your inclusivity ya daft fascists.”

“Alfie.” Sabini groans. “You know I'm not that stupid and I know you aren’t either. Let’s move past this yeah? I’m English, I don’t live in bloody Italy, my parents don’t live there, I work with what’s in front of me don’t I? Not with my head in some other fuckin’ country. Give me a bit of credit here, I'm not some amateur.”

“A truce?” Alfie quickly switches the conversation direction in a show of understanding.

“Yes.” An exasperated Sabini spits out.

“What terms?” Alfie asks with a rather dainty placement of his gold spectacles and a lick of his pen.

“We share the tracks. I can give you more races to share if you agree to not come for me or my men. We won’t cross on each other territories of businesses. No fighting over pubs and theatres. We’d have each other's backs, like the good old days.”

“Good old days.” Alfie snorts as keeps writing. “I get one race a month of my own. Share the rest.”

“Fine.”

“NO crossing territories, no murderin’, no fightin’.” Alfie repeats, with a mumble as it’s the least of his worries.

“Agreed.”

“And the giving of men for circumstances of attack and revenge on other groups if the situation arises.”

“Acceptable.”

“Then sign here,” Alfie says with a satisfied expression. “You must be in a right spot, mate. Givin’ up this.”

“It’s an investment.”

“Mmm.” Alfie hums and shakes the paper to dry the ink. “Now. This information…”

“There was a meeting-”

“Remember when I said I knew things…?”

“Let me bloody talk now. We get it you KNOW things, Alfie.” he interjects with an annoyed wave of his hand. “What you might not know is that Niko tried to gather the lot of us from all of London and turn us on you.”

“Mmm.” another sound of acknowledgment that meant nothing.

“He doesn’t trust you or your bride to be. Congratulations by the way.”

“Thank you.” he nods gracefully.

“We all know he’s after her, yeah? But he wants us to believe she’ll turn you against everyone and try to take us all down one by one. Which after your reaction to Horne, almost all of us aren’t sure what the fuck to think about you.”

“Couldn’t possibly have been intentional.”

“I wanted a truce because I don’t want you coming at me how you did Horne. A new war between us will do nothing but lead to problems I don't fucking have time for anymore. Not with how the worlds changing and us getting older.”

“Yeah, I feel it in my legs mostly...” Alfie groans.

“Niko is going to come for you. I believe you need to set up a meeting of your own and address him and, well bloody almost everyone else. It might help, might not. But at least then when faced with you and not behind your back you might see what sort of man Niko has turned into after taking over.”

“Never was much of one to begin with.” Alfie rolls his eyes.

“No, which makes him behave like a child and thus not act according to the truces that are set in place.”

“Yeah yeah.” Alfie nods. “There needs to be somethin’ said. Can’t have the little wanker goin’ round runnin’ his fuckin’ mouth bout me. OR my wife. “

“All this over a fucking woman.” Sabini groans.

Alfie points a ringed and aggressive finger his way. “You can’t be talking about her either, yeah? That’ll break this little agreement faster than I could put a bullet in your fuckin’ skull, right?”

“I'm not. Nothing personal just… he’s acting like a little boy. I know marriage is important to you Jews.”

“Always the tasteful one, Derby.”

“You know what I fuckin’ mean.”

“Unfortunately I do speak prick.”

“Alfie, I’m not after you or your wife. In any capacity. How I talk is just how I talk, yeah? I don't mean nothin’ by it, it’s just how I am. How we grew up. And I know you. We know each other right? And I would rather work with the devil I know than the devil I don’t. And that’d be you. Especially after what you did to Horne.”

“Mmph.” Alfie nods. “Spose that checks out.”

“I was impressed, I’ll admit. We haven’t seen a retaliation wipe out a whole enterprise like that in decades.”

“And I’d dig him up, skull fuck him and set him on fire if I could. Salt the fuckin’ earth wherever his feet touched.” Alfie's eyes are familiar darkness to Sabini. He’d expected as much from him after seeing the ash fall from the city skyline line it was snow from the destruction Alfie orchestrated. “I don’t blame you for not wantin’ me on your bad side. I know they say we’re both crazy now.”

“But see...I know neither of you are.”

“And that’s why we’ve not killed you yet, mate. Every now and then, you use your brain. ”

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbirdd @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s

@musingsby-night @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @alitheamateur @gold-trashbag @divadinag @imhelenagardner

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fan fiction #peaky blinders fiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons au #peaky blinders au #tom hardy

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bffsoobin · 4 years

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windflower extras

this masterpost includes all of the questions I have gotten about the Windflower Universe/ Soobin’s character within it! I am open to answering questions about the story but please refer here first to see if I’ve already answered something similar! *does contain spoilers if you haven’t read yet!*

Q: Is the whole town in on what happens at Soobin’s estate? Like, they help direct people to him on purpose? or does he get rid of their cars and tell the townspeople his worker left? also, is there some hidden easter egg in the initials from soobin’s flower collection, or were they random?

A: The town people aren’t in on it! As you can see from the waitress in the first chapter, they just generally feel bad for him. He’s one of those people who is just pretty vaguely known around town. Like they know he’s living alone and his cousin moved away but they have no idea what happens out there. I imagined him having some kind of dedicated place to take the cars and belongings that only people in his family know (since it’s sort of a handed down thing). The town’s people always assume that whoever was helping him ends up moving on once the garden no longer needs tended to. Soobin is just so charming that he basically has everyone in town wrapped around his finger!

And for the flower collection, the “easter egg” was that my initials are SA and forget me nots are my favorite flower!

Q:The flowers labeled CS- has Soobin grown flowers?? For who??

A: Yes the snapdragons with the CS on it were his! He had previously told the reader that he had never grown flowers and didn’t know what it was like, but that was obviously a lie. I didn’t have anyone in mind for who he grew flowers for but I imagined it as being something that happened many years before the reader arrived. Maybe a highschool love that went wrong?

Q: did soobin’s experience growing flowers (and their unpleasant meaning of deception lmao) fuel him at all? or was he bound to take up the family tradition regardless of whether he'd ever been scorned or not? and was everything he said about his cousin true? so, when members of his family do find a successful love, they can just... up and leave? forget they were ever manipulative murderers? 😭

A: Soobin’s experience growing flowers definitely turned him into a much more ~aggressive~ form of following the family tradition. It was no mistake on my part to mention on a few occasions the massive size of his family. His great-great whatever’s and I would imagine even his more immediate family would have gone through the route of having multiple significant others, and kind of gone the long way to collecting. Hence the “well, wives” joke!

Soobin growing flowers, and snapdragons at that, propelled him into a much more vengeful need to trick people into falling in love with him. He sees the “deception” as a sign that whoever he had fallen in love with deceived him, thus he feels the need to keep that cycle going. In a way, he is sort of a moral enforcer (if you’re familiar with serial killer types, lmao). But his morals have been twisted to where he believes that anyone who is foolish enough to be deceived into falling in love should be punished. (You can see this as a reflection of the way he perceives and values his own self worth as well)

But here’s the catch. I’ve had this (secret, I guess) backstory about him and the cousin that I simply couldn’t figure out how to fit into the actual series. I imagined Soobin growing his flowers, finding their meaning and kind of losing his grip on reality. In comes his cousin, who knows that Soobin was already struggling with the idea of having to follow in the family footsteps. Since the size of the family had slowly dwindled down, it was kind of up to the two of them to carry on the bloodline and shit even though they were both against it. The cousin was ready to sacrifice it all to get Soobin out, and they probably even had a plan for his escape in place. And then the cousin met the girl he ended up moving away with, and decides to leave Soobin behind in the end anyway. Thus, another form of love (this time familial) that left Soobin hurting and alone. Not to mention the deception of bailing on a very important plan.

So if you add up growing flowers, the meaning of said flowers, and having the one person who he trusted walk out of his life for someone he had just met; you get a hell of a lot of triggers for killing.

Q: I have a question did soobin even like y/n like actually like her ya know or was he just pretending or something?

A: Basically, he kind of gets flirty/close with every person who comes to work for him. He knows that he’s charming and the flirting serves as a sort of test to see if the person is worthy of being killed or not. So no, he really didn’t have feelings for y/n at all. He’s very good at putting on the act, but he will never let himself fall in love again.

Q: Was Melissa an accomplice or another victim? Did she know the reality behind Soobin’s family tradition?

A: Like the rest of the town people, Melissa (the waitress from part 1 for anyone confused) was not part of Soobin’s rouse or plans at all! She simply knows him as a kind of lonely but sweet young man who can always use an extra hand working around the house in the summer. The entire town is basically clueless to him/the family tradition! They’ve spent years perfecting their methods so no one on the outside will ever notice

Q: how does soobin ensure that all his visitors have hanahaki? What if they don’t have it or don’t develop it? What will he do then?

A: Basically, Soobin will sort of flirt/test the waters with anyone who comes to the house for work. He’s gotten really good at knowing the signs of a crush/hanahaki so he knows when someone will end up facing the same fate as Y/N did. In my universe, everyone has the ability to grow flowers, but if a person didn’t grow them for Soobin they would just simply leave at the end of the summer! Basically for Soobin falling in love with him = grounds for death.

Q:How would Soobin continue the family tradition? will he get married and have kids and they’ll have to continue it? will he tell his wife or keep it a secret?

A: I think that Soobin would eventually force himself to reproduce. I put it that way because he is unable/unwilling to let himself fall in love ever again, so the idea of marrying would simply be out of the need to have kids to carry on the tradition. So I honestly don’t think he’d ever get married but he would definitely have at least one long term partner (long enough to have a kid, lmao). And in my mind the SO would never know about the tradition! As I said in another ask, Soobin’s ancestors were known for having multiple significant others (they became flowers in the garden).

#soobin #choi soobin #soobin x reader #soobin imagines #soobin angst

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

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SMEARED LIPSTICK

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Rating: Explicit A/N: The one-shot is set sometime during my upcoming fic, Memory of the Waters, and features my OC, Lirael Thorne, who some of you might recognize from the AU story Promise Me Forever. @lickitysplitfic and I were talking about how she tries to get under Dante's skin and knows that he's got a thing for messy blowjobs featuring smeared lipstick, and this one-shot was born. It's 6k words of pure smut with just enough plot to justify it, and we hope you have as much fun reading it as we did writing it!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir knows exactly what she's doing when she takes a photograph of herself with artfully smeared lipstick and sends it to Dante.

Two weeks ago, and at Nico's urging, she'd bought her second ever tube of lipstick, a dark, sinful red named Lust, and she'd worn it while going to help Dante at his branch of the Devil May Cry. He'd gotten a strange look on his face when he'd seen her, and it hadn't taken much prodding on her part for him to say that he really, really wanted her to give him a blowjob while wearing it because the idea of making a mess of her mouth was incredibly hot.

Of course, she hadn't agreed right away. While Dante is, perhaps, the most considerate lover she's had in terms of her always having the reins, so to speak, she'd never seen him that desperate, and aren't all good things worth waiting for? So, she'd continued to wear the lipstick around him, and sent him selfies of her wearing it and not much else, and, given the fact that she hasn't really seen him in a week due to the sudden influx of jobs on both ends, she knows that what she's done is just adding fuel to the fire.

Doesn't stop her from grinning as she carefully wipes the smudge away and reapplies, though.

Behind her, Nero taps his foot impatiently. "You ready or what?"

"You driving?" she asks, stowing the tube in her shoulder bag.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They head to the job site with little conversation. The portals around Fortuna had been getting little rips despite having been sealed four years ago, probably someone messing around with some unaccounted-for Order stuff. That's why Lir had been sticking around the city and helping Nero out rather than working with Dante: until they figured out why the rips kept happening, it was way safer.

Her phone buzzes and she swipes the screen, adjusting the brightness now that the sun had gone down. Lir snorts when she reads: Where are u?

Working, she replies.

A moment later: Are you coming here tonight?

No, don't know when we'll be done. Fortuna’s still crazy.

Lir smiles to herself knowing why he is asking. Truthfully, she's itching to get her hands on him too, it being days since she got her fill of Dante. What had started out as a bit of fun had turned into a full addiction, but one she didn't mind too much.

I need to see u babe!

"What are you laughing at?" Nero asks from the driver's seat.

"Dante's whining about the workload," she replies, and he snorts and drapes an arm out of the open window.

"Tell 'im he shouldn't have let a bunch of wackos open gates, then," he says, but there's no real bite to his tone. "Speaking of, can you ask him if he's plannin' on comin' out anytime soon? I wanted to ask him about this new demon we've been seeing."

"Sure." Unlocking her phone, she types: Nero wants to see you about a demon. After a moment's debate, she adds: Do you think it'll dye your skin if I go down on you?

His response is immediate. Don't care, that mouth is going around my cock.

"He said he'll swing by when he can."

Nero nods, then jerks his chin towards the radio. "See if that thing's workin', will ya? I want some music before we kill these fuckers."

She sends off a kiss emoji before stashing her phone, deciding if he answers she should leave him on read. Lir is glad they are headed for a fight, because her heart is racing now at his last text, and she is definitely going to need to work out some of this adrenaline.

The demons are easy enough, not powerful at all but so many that it keeps them busy enough. Nero gets more kills than she does, which kind of bothers Lir, even though she was busy finding the tear and sealing it up. Her knack for opening doors that was unlocked during the Order incident has extended to closing things up as well, so once she figures out where they are slipping in it's easy work.

Once the demons are gone and the hole plugged up, they are sweaty and dirty and trudge back to the van. It's coming up on 11 already, and as Lir flips down the visor to look at her smudged hair and the smeared red on her lips, Nero asks, "Want to get a drink?"

"No, I want a shower," she sighs. "Drop me home?"

"Sure." They pass the rest of the ride in their usual post-fight silence, which is comfortable and much needed for the both of them. It's not until the van is idling outside of the garage she shares with Nico that he says, "Kyrie's making meatloaf tomorrow and wants you to come."

"Tell her if she puts that special sauce of hers in, I'll eat the whole thing."

"Not if I eat it first," he fires back.

With a grin, she leans over to punch him lightly on the shoulder. "See ya tomorrow, loverboy. Give Kyrie some kisses from me."

He waves her off, though he's smiling too, and she climbs the steps to the second floor, fumbling for her keys. To her surprise, the door is open a crack; with a frown, she carefully draws her revolver from it's holster and clicks the safety off, gently nudging the door open with her shoulder. The sight of Dante sitting at her small kitchen table is almost comical since he's so damn large next to it, but the humor dies when she catches sight of the positively ravenous expression he's wearing.

"Good way to get yourself shot," she greets as she flicks on the light and leans White Queen next to the door. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Came to see you." He nods to the revolver in her hand. "You had any trouble?"

"Nope." Lir slips the gun into its spot before unhooking the holster and hanging it up.

"Good. Where's Nico?"

Lir chuckles to herself. "She's gone until Thursday. Went to see a vendor about some material."

"Good." There is movement behind her, and when Lir whips around Dante is right there. She sucks in a breath as he crowds her, stepping forward until she steps back and presses on the door. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" she asks innocently, smiling up at him.

"For me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours."

She blinks, then stifles a chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're gonna have to wait. I'm sweaty and covered in demon blood, so I'm gonna shower. You can sit on your hands if you're worried about keeping them to yourself."

"Nope." He leans down, one arm braced on the wall beside her head while he cups her chin with the other hand. "You can shower after. You know I can't stand being teased."

Lir grins and gives him a little shove, not at all surprised when he doesn't move an inch. "Poor thing. Leftie not cutting it for you anymore?"

"Leftie and rightie have retired," he murmurs. This is his thing: flirting, jokes, a sweet bit of self-deprecation . . . but tonight it's different. It's like there's no humor in his tone, and when Lir swallows, his eyes go to her throat.

"Like I said, I need to shower," she replies, her mouth dry.

"Ain't got nothing to do with your mouth, babe." His thumb smooths over her bottom lip, dragging hard across her flesh. Then he holds up his hand and glances at the light red streak on the pad of his thumb. "You still got that lipstick?"

She nods, fishing the tube out of her pocket, and he studies it for a second, his lips curling up in something that's not quite a smile. "Put it on."

Without hesitation, she pops the top off and runs the cream over her lips, rubbing them together to make sure it's applied as evenly as it can be without using a mirror, and then she closes it and deposits it back in her pocket. "You're a fiend," she tells him, only partially teasing.

Dante doesn't reply to that. Nor does he step back. His hands settle firmly on her shoulders, and Lir lets him guide her to her knees, her heart thrumming in her chest at this new display of dominance from him. Can't handle being teased, sure, but that usually ends with him beneath her, growling her name as she rides him. It's never caused this sort of reaction, and she'd rub her thighs together if she weren't kneeling with them apart, because there's an ache that's quicker and fiercer than the ones she's had before.

She runs her hands up his thighs, looking up as he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't stopped thinking about you," he growls as he yanks his jeans open.

Lir smiles and scratches the denim. "Must have been hard."

Dante laughs as he pulls out his cock. It is fully erect, and he pumps his hand a few times as he adjusts the waistband around his hips. "It's hard alright."

He aims the length towards her, and Lir opens her mouth and runs her tongue over her lips. Then she carefully licks the tip, playing with it gently, softly pressing kisses to the head. She slurps a bit around the opening, playing up her lips around his flesh, her eyes steady on his. He tastes like sex, plain and simple, and her body clenches when he rubs his thumb to the tip and reveals that it is already dripping.

Dante winds a chunk of her hair around his fist, using the strands to pull her forward, his cock sliding slowly over her tongue until it nudges the back of her throat. There's already a strain from his girth, and having his eyes focused on her mouth makes her feel a bit awkward, and the tug on her roots is just shy of painful, but all of that is worth it when he rumbles deep in his chest before drawing back. The first few passes are almost gentle, and she appreciates the fact that he's trying to let her adjust. After his behavior, though, the sweetness is almost a letdown, so she reaches behind him and digs her fingers into his backside through his jeans.

Dante huffs a laugh as he cups both sides of her face, his fingers curling under her chin. Then he begins to move in earnest, fucking into her mouth, the sharp jerks of his hips giving her just enough time to draw in short breaths. It's hot as hell, and already she can feel arousal slipping from her to soak her underwear.

He fills her mouth until it almost chokes her, the head pressing into her throat. Lir swallows around him, taking a deep breath as best as she can, tears pricking at her eyes. "Feels so good," Dante groans, his thrusts shallow enough to keep him buried.

This isn't what she normally likes; Lir likes to be on top, in control, but Dante is still somehow as gentle as he is demanding, and it makes her want to please him all the more. She had started out wanting to drive him wild enough to fuck her, but now she only wants to make him come. Lir closes her eyes and sucks his length repeatedly, shivering when he lets go another deep groan.

She drops her hands to brace them on his thighs, trying to ground herself in the solid feel of the muscles beneath his jeans. The sensation of his thumb swiping a line of spit and fluid from her chin makes her moan, the sound muffled to a whine around his flesh, and he curses as he pauses with his cock buried in her throat. "Should've put you on my face," he groans. "Nearly forgot how good it feels when ya do that."

Lir's breath stutters, and she tries to pull back to speak, but the hand in her hair tenses. "Nuh uh, babe. You gonna finish what you started."

Her eyes flash when they meet his, and she moves on her own, her head bobbing up and down with renewed effort. Lir adds a hand, grabbing the base and moving with her mouth, twisting a bit as she works him.

Needing a quick rest, she slowly pulls her mouth off. Dante frowns, but she smiles at him flirtatiously, dragging her tongue along the underside. "You have something on your cock," she says; Lir tries to sound sexy, but her voice is as raw as her throat.

Dante grins. He tugs her hand away and grabs his length, stroking himself quickly. The other hand in her hair tilts her head back, and he presses the head to her lips. "Open up," he says, his tone a clear order. "I want to give you something."

She parts her lips obediently, and the warm rush of his seed coating her tongue has her insides clenching deliciously, as does the guttural moan that tears from him. Lir does her best to swallow every drop, but with her mouth open and how much of it there is, some of it spills over her chin, dripping along her throat. His knuckles brush her face as he milks his cock; by the time he's done, she's certain of two things: one, she probably looks utterly debauched.

Two, if he doesn't fuck her soon, she's gonna wind up begging for it.

Dante strokes her face with one hand, continuing to pump his cock with the other and, while he's moving leisurely, she's startled by the fact that he's still hard. They've gone more than one round before, but there's also been a bit of rest period between, and her mouth waters as he pulls her to her feet. "That's one," he says, his eyes alight with a dark mirth. "Now, when I'm all riled up, I've usually got about six shots in the chamber, so to speak, and I think you've earned some payback for winding me up like this."

He gathers some of his come from her chin, pressing his fingers between her lips until she sucks them clean. "So, what we're gonna do is get in the shower, and I'm gonna fuck you there. Then I'm gonna eat your cunt until you forget everything but my name before fuckin' you until you can't walk straight."

His words are crude and his voice is rough, and Lir can't stand the effect he has on her. Her mouth hangs open as he tugs her to stand, but before she can move to obey he presses her back against the door and kisses her. She grabs his shirt but he pulls her hands away, trapping her wrists over her head against the wood with one hand; the other drags down her front, massaging one breast, then the other, as his tongue fills her mouth.

Lir's jaw is aching still from taking his cock, but she responds when he tilts his head to force the kiss deeper. Their lips slide together as she whimpers, completely under his spell. Where was her sweet, funny Dante? He really is a demon tonight, she thinks, and when he finally lets her go she is panting and looking at him in a daze.

Dante smirks at her, and she sees the lipstick now smeared around his own mouth. She licks her lips, making his eyes narrow. He jerks his chin towards the bathroom, and Lir leads the way, feeling his presence behind her like a great cat on the prowl.

The click of the latch as he closes the door behind them has her swallowing thickly, and she doesn't have to turn to see the way he's watching her; she can feel it, as absurd as that is, as heavy on her skin as his hands had been moments ago. She leans into the stall to turn on the water, setting it scalding like she prefers, then begins to undress, keeping her back to him. There's a low, satisfied hum from Dante when she pulls her shirt over her head, before she hears rustling that means he's taking his own clothes off.

He comes up behind her, his chest pressed to her back as he herds her into the shower, and she's barely got time to say anything before he has her pinned to the wall, the cool tile sending goosebumps up her arms. "I want to actually bathe," she complains, and he laughs as he kisses just below her ear.

"Don't worry, I'll get ya nice and clean," he teases.

Lir bites her lip, loving and hating how much he's affecting her now, and the faint pop of a bottle being opened nearly makes her jump. The scent of her body wash fills the air as his soapy hands land on her shoulders, massaging the knots out. She relaxes with a moan, and he answers with a chuckle as he shifts to cup her breasts, his palms and fingers slippery and wonderful.

"You always feel so good," he murmurs. She feels his cock nudging her backside, the soap that streams down her body now making it slick as he grinds against her. Lir presses her palms flat on the tile to keep herself steady, her eyes closing as his cock pushes against her seam as his hand drags through the hair on her pubis.

Lir gasps when his touch presses to her hood. Her body is soaked in more ways than one and the glide of his fingertips against the sensitive bud as her legs shaking. "Yeah," he groans, thrusting up against her, and Lir gives a choking cry when his cock pumps against her hole.

Dante laughs and turns her around, pushing her back against the wall. "Maybe I'll take you there later," he murmurs, his voice dark and dangerous as he covers her. "Right now I need to be inside your pussy, so open up babe."

She spreads her legs and he grabs the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up with ease and pulling her down to impale her on his cock, smothering her cry with a kiss. They've barely gotten started, and already there's the familiar tightening in her core that leaves her breathless; when he grinds against her, her head spins, her fingers scrabbling against his shoulders for something to grip onto. Has it ever been this quick, this raw? She can't remember and, as he starts to thrust in earnest, she doesn't care.

"Baby, you're so tight," Dante pants.

She turns her head to capture his mouth, groaning around the kiss as his cock batters in and out of her. The orgasm builds faster than she can keep up, and after another minute she pulls back with a gasp, gripping his shoulders and dropping her head back.

Her mouth drops open as the pulsing starts, sharp and intense. "You coming already?" he growls.

He leans in as if to bite her neck, his teeth gripping her skin but not closing. Then he sweeps his tongue across her skin, sending another shudder through her, the contractions continuing on. "Dante!" Lir yelps, yanking on his hair.

He groans in answer, his hands sliding up to knead her backside. "God, I love it when you say my name like that."

His hips slow, and she moans helplessly as he rubs leisurely over her walls; because he doesn't stop, neither does her orgasm, and soon the overstimulation draws a whine from her throat every time he thrusts into her. It's tender, and sweet, and entirely too much, a pleasant sort of torture that drags on and on and on until, with a hoarse whisper of her name, the first waves of his release turn the friction of his cock silky.

Lir is trembling when he finally slips out of her body and sets her down. Her grip on him stays tight to keep herself standing, and Dante presses his forehead to hers, leaving dotted kisses on her lips. "Fuck you are so hot."

She smiles and huffs a laugh, dragging her palms down his chest. "You got me dirty again."

"Easy fix." He eases back, the spray of the water aiming between them. Through lidded eyes she watches him soap her sponge and then gently he washes her body. It's almost charming as he lifts one arm, then the other, then draws large circles around her breasts, before finally dragging the sponge in a long stripe from her chest downwards.

"Don't forget your dick," Lir jokes as he washes her thighs.

Dante looks up with a wink. "If I wash that lipstick off you're gonna have to replace it."

"Don't tempt me," she warns. "Now that I know you've got a fetish, I'm gonna wear it every day."

He grins, a little sharp. "I'm not gonna complain about fuckin' you every day."

Lir snorts and relaxes as he continues to scrub her before turning the sponge to himself. As he soaps up, she sets about washing her hair, sighing as the grime rinses down the drain, her scalp feeling much lighter once she's done. Dante nudges her, and she lets him rinse off, wondering if he's planning to stay. Threats about fucking her until she can't walk are all well and good, but she knows they'll either just go to bed or, if he's got somewhere to be in the morning, he'll head home, and she's almost sad to think about it.

Which is ridiculous.

He turns off the water and steps out, looking around for a moment before he spies the shelf with the towels. He grabs one and she leans against the tile to enjoy the sight of him drying off, his muscles covered in droplets of water that flex as he works. "You like something, sweetheart?" he jokes, peeking through his bangs.

"Fuck yes." Dante tosses a towel to her, then holds out a hand to help her from the shower. They crowd together on the bathmat, and after a quick sweep over her body, Lir winds the towel on her head to squeeze the water from her hair.

"Sexy," he teases, tugging at the end of the towel, and she swats at him with a laugh. "Hope you enjoy the break, darlin', 'cause there's a lot more to come."

She peers up at him. "Thought you were just talking big."

"Now, you know I never make a promise to a lady I can't keep." His arm snakes around her waist to pull her flush to his body, and he grins at her as he carefully pulls the towel from her hair and runs his fingers through the damp strands. "You got somewhere to be tomorrow?"

"Dinner with Kyrie."

"Guess I better get started, then."The kiss this time is more playful, but just as forceful. It does give Lir's head time to clear a bit, though, and by the time he is walking her back to the bedroom, his hands roam her body and his lips and teeth tease her mouth. This is a Dante that is more familiar, and she reaches around to squeeze his backside before snaking her hand over his hip. "Let's get you ready."

"Not yet," he replies.

Lir frowns, but he lifts her easily, half-carrying and half-dragging her to the bed. He flops on top, pulling her easily and lifting her by the hips until she is over his face. Lir leans forward to brace herself on his stomach as she feels his lips graze her slit. In the corner of her eye his cock twitches, and she gasps when his tongue nudges her clit.

Normally, he takes his time, making sure to kiss every inch of her sex until she's a writhing mess. This time, his attention stays focused on her clit, his tongue rubbing over it firmly, and she scratches over his stomach when her hands curl into fists, her head dropped as she pants raggedly. He's relentless, his thumbs keeping her folds parted to expose her pearl that throbs; it's not until his own hips roll the tiniest bit that she realizes that his cock is stiff and weeping, and Lir leans forward to lap at the fluid dripping from the tip.

Dante gives a deep groan. She feels his lips slide along her sex and then his tongue enters her, pressing deep inside. Lir pants as she rocks her hips, her movements restricted by his grip on her waist, but she manages to ride his tongue slightly, forcing the tip to press against the front wall.

She mouths at his cock, not taking it into her mouth, but tracing her lips with the tip and flickering her tongue on the opening. Too distracted by the thrust of his tongue inside her body, Lir opens her mouth to let the head sit on her tongue. Dante pumps his hips to fuck in and out of her mouth as he laps at her until his lips return to her hood and wrap around her swollen clit.

Her back bows with a keen that's choked by his length as her orgasm snaps along her spine, sharp enough that her toes curl. Dante yanks her back so she's seated firmly on his face, his tongue flicking harshly over her clit, keeping her pinned by his hands and his hips so that all she can do is endure, even when the pleasure gains a thin edge of pain.

Finally, he stops, and she slumps against the blankets when he carefully slides her off of him. "Damn," he sighs. His hands smooth over her backside, his fingers teasing along the seam of her body. "You got a choice now, doll, though it ain't much of one."

She turns her head to stare at him. "What?"

"Where I'm gonna fuck you." Dante nudges her legs apart and settles between them, leaning over her. "See, I figure I've had your mouth and I've had your cunt, but this?" He squeezes her rear. "Haven't fucked this yet. But I know it ain't really your favorite, so it's your call."

Lir peeks over her shoulder. "How do you know what is my favorite?"

He laughs and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "I can't stand how goddamn sexy you are."

His mouth moves across her back, pressing kisses against her shoulder blades before trailing down her spine. She sighs and settles into the mattress, her limbs heavy and her body relaxed from the orgasm. When Dante reaches the small of her back, he squeezes her backside again, and pushes so her hips tilt up. She feels him shift on the bed as he nibbles over her flesh until reaching the back of her thigh.

Lir gasps when she feels his tongue at her sex again. Dante pushes her up on her knees, her ass in the air as he licks her slowly. She grips the bedsheet with a groan, unable to help herself as she tilts back to open herself for more. "Greedy girl," he admonishes.

"You can't keep your hands off, and I'm the greedy one?" she mutters. He bites her thigh, drawing a yelp, before returning to her slit, where he laps at her lazily. "You're an ass."

She feels him shrug before he says, "Might wanna choose before I do it for ya."

Her lips press into a thin line as she presses her face to the quilt, thinking. Or trying to between the little jolts every time his tongue nudges beneath her hood or dips playfully into her opening; if she uses his metaphor from earlier, she's got about three rounds, and two have been used, leaving her with one to his three. She's already sensitive enough as it is, so, with a huff, she mumbles, "Next time."

"Next time?"

He moves again, and Lir feels him tug on her arms until she is kneeling, his broad chest against her back. His hands grip her hips and maneuver her to sink down on his cock, her body so wet now he glides inside with ease. Lir sighs and rolls her head back to his shoulder, and when her backside goes flush with his thighs he holds her there for a long moment.

One hand moves to her neck, cradling her chin so her head stays tilted back on his shoulder. The other moves between her legs and strokes her clit, but gentle, feather-light touches that barely register. Dante teases her as he starts to fuck her deeply, his lips dancing on her exposed neck and pressing to the juncture of her shoulder. "Next time? You realize I'm going to fill you again and again tonight?"

"Dante . . ." she groans.

He uses two fingers to open her lips, exposing her clit as his cock drags in and out of her. Then another finger begins to tease it, flicking and pressing in unguessable patterns that have her jolting. "No coming then, Lir," he warns. "I'm nowhere near done with you."

That's easier said than done. At this angle, his cock hits all the right spots, and the haphazard little shocks from her clit every time he touches it already have her in knots. But she can't find her voice, or enough of it, to do more than moan every time he fills her, so she can't warn him. His mouth trails over her shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly over her skin, and she gasps when they go sharp for a second. "Next time," he rumbles, "we'll see if you can handle all of me."

Her mouth is dry as she tries to speak, but in truth Lir can't do anything. Her body is one roll of pleasure after another, his cock pushing her closer and closer to her end, so that when she feels it becoming inevitable she lets go a whine. "Dante, please!" she gasps breathlessly.

He lets her go and she slumps forward, but his hands go immediately to her hips and yank her up and back. Dante begins to pound into her, drilling his cock inside her at a hard, fast pace so that moments later she explodes around him. She presses her face to the bed to cover her screams, her body quickly going oversensitive.

When she is sure she can't take anymore, she whimpers, and Dante pulls out. She catches sight of him looming over her as her eyes close, and then a hand covers her sex, massaging her lightly. "I'm not done with you yet," he says again. Lir feels something nudge at her lips, and when she immediately opens his cock slides into her mouth, burying into her throat.

She's too tired to do much, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He pumps his hips, the tip of his cock never leaving her mouth, as his hands roam her body; one stays over her sex, stroking lightly over her slit, while the other cups her breast and rolls her nipple between his fingers. The pleasure now is dull, soothing, and if it weren't for his touch, she'd doze. Just as she starts to, he slips a finger within her core, and her eyes fly open to find him watching her with a grin that's damn near predatory.

"Need to tap out?" he asks, the taunt clear, and she reaches up to grip the back of his thigh, urging him to keep going. He laughs, rolling her breast with his palm. "Didn't think so."

Lir shakes the haze from her mind as she purposefully begins to suck on his length. Her hand slides around his thigh to reach under for the flesh hanging there, and as she stretches to deep throat his length she strokes him gently. "Goddamn," he curses, his finger teasing her opening, and a second later he pushes his cock deep in her throat as he starts to come.

She swallows the seed as best she can, and when he pulls out there is still plenty in her mouth that she gulps down. Her head rolls to the side as she catches her breath as he lowers himself on top of her, settling between her thighs. Dante nuzzles her chest, biting along the curves of her breasts and flicking his tongue against her nipples as she sags limply under him.

Lir watches as he tastes the pink buds, swallowing thickly when he looks at her again, his expression and his voice back to the predator he has been all night. "I want you again," he growls.

She should tap out. Probably. At least, that's what Nico would say, along with a litany of curses for her being so damn stubborn, but, fuck, he'd challenged her, and she's not going to take that lying down. Or, well, she is, but she's not gonna give in and give him the impression that she can't handle it. "What the hell are you waiting for, then?"

The moment the words leave her lips, he surges forward, and she can't even cry out when he sheathes his cock within her because it knocks the air from her lungs. They've played around with overstimulation before, plenty of times, but it was always playful, while this is rough and, if she didn't know him better, dangerous. His hands clamp around her hips to cant them off the bed, and she sucks in a breath when draws back, only for it to leave her with a groan as he thrusts back in, the pace he sets near brutal.

Lir reaches up and grips the bedsheet, biting her lip as he fucks her. Her toes curl and her knees fall back and open, holding in a scream of pain and pleasure. He is simply so powerful, and it is both frightening and exhilarating to have this man, this demon, holding her and taking her like this. Never once has Lir wanted to be toyed with, to be submissive, to give up control. But with Dante she feels as though she can, she should, and so she arches her back and wraps her legs around his waist.

He groans her name, a hand on her breast, the other on her thigh. Lir is drowning in pleasure, her sex too sensitive for this, feeling every inch that pounds in and out. Dante leans forward to brace one palm on the bed and the new angle scrapes against her clit, swollen and exposed and aching. It is an exquisite sort of torture, being so desired to the point where she may not survive.

Then he drapes over her, his mouth hot and hungry as it seeks her. "Come on my cock," he orders as he kisses her, and Lir knows she has to obey. The new angle puts additional pressure on her mound, his pelvis grinding against her clit, so when her orgasm hits she barely registers except to feel the intensity of the pleasurable contractions sharpen as a fresh wave of arousal covers them both.

Through the haze, she's dimly aware of his grip on her going bruisingly tight and the warmth that fills her, so much of it that it slips out and onto the sheets. Dante pants as he kisses her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he fills her, and she forces herself to drape an arm over his shoulders and hold him close until he begins to slow. Even when it's over, he doesn't pull out, instead blanketing her with his body, his cock twitching within her. "Goddamn," he sighs.

Lir makes a noncommittal noise and blinks up at the ceiling. His tone and posture mean he's done, at least for now, and she's got some new things to mull over, namely how insanely fucking hot it was to be dominated by him so completely. Despite the ache already blooming between her thighs, she's thinking over different things to try to get this reaction from again: lingerie, maybe, or, hell, just sprawling naked on his bed with the lipstick on? Him kissing her shoulder draws her back to the present, and she tilts her head to peer at him.

"Where'd you go?" he jokes.

"I'm here," she says weakly.

Dante smiles and moves up, his cock sliding out of her body. Lir stifles a moan as she tries to stretch her limbs, everything feeling sore and overused, like she had spent the whole day climbing. Her eyes open and close as she hears his footsteps on the carpet, and a minute later he returns with a glass of water, nudging her to sit up.

Lir gulps it down gratefully, the water cooling her sore throat. She grabs the bottle of aspirin next to her bed and pops a few before finishing off the water and handing him the glass. "Thanks," she sighs, wiping her mouth with her hand.

Dante studies her face, his brow drawn down. "You want me to go?" he asks.

She considers it. "Nah," she says, after a moment. "Might as well stay. You've still got a toothbrush stashed in the cabinet, right?"

He has the decency to look sheepish. "You know about that?"

"Yeah. And the duffel bag kicked to the back of my closet." With a yawn, she lays back, wrinkling her nose at the wet spot on top of her quilt. "Nico's not due back for a few days, and Nero doesn't come over unannounced. Though if you stay, I'm dragging you to dinner tomorrow."

Dante grins and stands again, heading into the bathroom. Lir takes the moment to admire his backside before he disappears behind the door, and then she stares at the ceiling again, wondering what the hell she is doing. Sleeping with him is one thing; but these overnights are ridiculous. They are gonna get caught, and every time they sleep together Lir promises herself its the last time. It's important to keep the sex just sex before it becomes not just sex.

He returns a few minutes later, turning off the lights before climbing onto the bed. Dante flops in a now-familiar way, using her like a pillow with his head on her stomach. Lir laughs to herself, too tired to protest as her eyes start to close. His fingers trace nonsense patterns on her thigh that lull her into sleep, his strong body solid and sinking against hers.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dante/lir #smut #writing #oneshot #smeared lipstick

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benscaligraphyset · 4 years

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Chapter Three

(Finally I’ve been able to update this fic! I got a little disheartened when the other chapters weren't getting much engagement and then my other pic, Unexpected, was getting attention so I focused on that a bit more but Im finally back with a new chapter if Starward! Hope it was worth the wait :) Please let me know what you think, I love reading your comments!)

Also! If you get the chance visit https://blacklivesmatter.carrd.co and sign their petitions and see other things you can do to help!

It had been a few months since your arrival at Luke’s training temple and you and Ben had already fallen into old habits.

His lightsaber skills had certain improved, you noted, but so had yours. You were constantly teasing him while sparring, trying to get him to break, but Ben was completely focused whenever fighting was happening. It’s like he slipped into a trance with the hum of his lightsaber driving him. You found it adorable, but it worried Luke. He said that he noticed him using Dark Side methods during his training, but it wasn’t as if all of those methods are truly bad, just different from Jedi techniques.

And there you were, back to defending him. But, Ben wasn’t alone in thinking that the Jedi had some major flaws. You think his mood would improve if he was allowed to express his emotions instead of keeping them bottled inside. That’s not to say you believe in the Sith’s way of using your emotions to fuel you and bring you power, but, there had to be some sort of healthy balance to these things. You wished Luke would teach you grey methods of using the Force, and not just the Light side that the old Jedi’s had preferred. After all, Darth Vader had started out as a Jedi and they allowed him to rise to power, so maybe their methods weren’t as perfect as Luke pretends they were. You just didn’t see what was wrong with a little Dark.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, though. Ben still struggled with his feelings of self worth and it was sometimes hard for you to convince him that you truly cared or that his family cared. His insecurities caused him to lash out and seek to self isolate instead of reaching out to his friends like you and Tai. You knew he also held residual anger at the fact that you left all those years ago, not that he’d admit it.

It’s not as if Luke did much to dissuade these insecurities, and you made sure to tell him as much, but you didn’t know if Luke truly knew how to help Ben. He didn’t understand him like you did and for the most part, that wasn’t his fault.

The side that you had the privilege of seeing, the joking, carefree side of him, was not something everyone got to see. It was easy to see him as a resentful and sad boy if he didn’t let you in.

Overtime, Ben stopped showing this side to Luke as much as he used to. You don’t know what changed but at some point after you left their relationship deteriorated and you didn’t know if it could be repaired. If it could, you certainly weren’t the one to do it. You made a note to ask Leia about it the next time you spoke to her.

You both had also kept the habit of bickering like an old married couple. You were constantly butting heads and it didn’t help that you both were relentlessly stubborn. In Ben’s defense, it’s hard not to be stubborn after being raised by the two most stubborn humans alive.

“There they go again,” another student groaned.

“Shut up, Bactar,” Ben snapped before turning back to you.

You scoffed. “You’re honestly telling me, that you think you could beat me, in my starfighter and you, in your dad’s old light freighter—that’s constantly needing repairs— in a race?” you asked in disbelief.

“That ‘old light freighter’,” Ben retorted, using air quotes, ”made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at the phrase you’ve heard enough times to last a life time. You looked around at your audience in disbelief and Jannik shrugged. People had learned to not get involved in your petty disputes.

Ben leaned over to get back in your line of vision. “I’m not gonna say it’s not a piece of junk, because, it is, but I am saying that I am a good enough pilot to beat you any day, in any ship.”

You threw your head back in a loud, obnoxious laugh. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Okay, now I really know you’re messing with me,” you scoffed.

Ben came closer to you and you raised your head in defiance, but also because if you didn’t you would be staring at his chest. You know he uses his build to an advantage, thinking if he towers over you he has the upper hand, but you never gave him the satisfaction. Maybe this would work on his sparring opponents, but not you. And maybe you liked it a little too much when he was a little too close.

You looked up at the man before you through your lashes; you also knew your own strengths.

“So, what do ya say, Flyguy? You wanna test your theory?” you asked in a low voice.

You watched his adam’s apple bob nervously and you knew you were succeeding. You smirked up at him and his jaw shifted in irritation.

“Pick a time and place, Starward,” he replied cooly.

Your smirk grew and you opened your mouth to retort but you never got the chance. Luke’s force presence alerted you to the fact that other people do, in fact, exist and you had a whole audience watching your and Ben’s—well, whatever this was.

“Kriff, would you two get a room already?” Voe snipped and you instantly retreated from Ben, warmth flooding your cheeks.

“Language, Voe,” Luke said, finally arriving to the training grounds.

Students instantly straightened their backs and wiped the grins off their face at his arrival. Voe’s body crumpled at Luke’s sharp reprimand and you suspected her cheeks were also warm.

“Y/N, Ben, stop whatever ridiculous feud you have going on and get into a ready position,” Luke commanded and you both obeyed, along with the rest of the class.

Ben seemed...uncomfortable would be the only word you knew how to describe it. He kept shifting his legs in between forms and you caught him conspicuously moving things around under his belt. You knew boys had to move things around down there sometimes, but you’d never seen Ben quite this bothered.

Maybe you could press inside—

“Y/N, focus,” Luke snapped, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

“Sorry, Master,” you apologized and resumed the stance that the other students were in.

It might’ve been your imagination, but you thought you felt Ben’s eyes boring holes into you, but you didn’t dare turn and check.

After training you went straight to your water bottle, relishing in how good it tasted. You weren’t ashamed to admit you might’ve moaned audibly. You couldn’t help it, water after training was like spice. You felt Ben’s presence brush against yours and you went to greet him, but he was already hustling towards the huts and didn’t stop, even when you called his name.

“What the brix?” The question was really to yourself, but that never stopped people from butting into your business before.

��Oh, he’s got it bad for you,” Jannik quipped, suddenly next to you.

“What are you on about now?” you asked, too exhausted from your workout to deal with whatever he was saying.

“Come on, I know you’re not that stupid.”

“Can you get on with whatever you’re trying to say or move along?” you asked, taking another needed sip of water.

“Come on, everyone knows he’s practically in love with you.”

Water shot out of your mouth and nose and you suddenly couldn’t draw a proper breathe in, having sucked water into your lungs. Jannik instantly patted your back and asked if you were all right.

“I-I’m f-fine,” you sputtered, eventually gaining the ability to breathe again.

“Did you seriously not know?” he asked, incredulous.

“There’s nothing to know,” you croaked, risking another sip of water. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends who get hot and bothered when you argue.”

“What?” It was your turn to sound incredulous.

“You didn’t notice how he was shifting around during training? You had to have.”

You grabbed Jannik’s arm, much to his loud objection, and dragged him away from any prying ears.

“Of course I noticed,” you hissed. “But, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Wow...you really are oblivious,” he said and you punched his shoulder, hard.

“Ow! Well, you are—Wait!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up as you raised your fist to land another blow.

“I’m sorry! Listen,” he said, waiting for your hand to lower. Reluctantly, you did lower it and then gestured for him to continue.

“Look, I’ve hid many a boners before—“

“Jannik!”

“Well, I have! And trust me, that’s exactly what Ben was doing out there.”

“He was not. Besides, even if he was how do you know that has anything to do with me?”

“Because I saw how he looked at you. And when you moaned into that water bottle,” Jannik gave a low whistle, “he booked it to the huts.”

That would explain why he bolted just after that—no. What were you saying? Maybe Ben had feelings for you when you were both young and naïve, but now? It just wasn’t a possibility. You’d shut down any hope for that before you’d left.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deflected.

“Ask anyone and they’ll tell you the same thing,” he insisted and you scoffed.

“I don’t need to ask anyone else’s opinion about my friendship, but thanks for the tip,” you replied sardonically and placed a hand on his shoulder before turning away.

“Come on, Y/N!” he called after you.

“I’ll see you at dinner!” you called back.

You laughed off his comments on your way to your hut. He doesn’t know Ben like you did, so who was he to tell you what he felt—hell, you didn’t even know what he was feeling most of the time.

But he was right that Ben was acting strange, and you needed to figure out why. You’d ask him at dinner, you decided. Right now you were in desperate need of a shower.

Dinner finally came and you went to your and Ben’s usual spot with a full plate of food. After today’s training you were famished and you didn’t wait for Ben to arrive before chowing down on what tasted like the most delicious meal you’ve ever had in your life. It wasn’t until you were almost done with said meal that you noticed Ben still hadn’t shown up. You pushed yourself up in your seat and looked around the cafeteria, hoping to spot that bushy head of black hair, but you didn’t see him. You slumped in your chair and pouted. Ben has never missed a dinner with you.

When it was nearly time for dinner to be over, you’d given up hope that he was going to arrive and had planned to wrap something for him to go, but then you finally saw him come through the doorway, Luke at his side. Your shoulders sagged in relief that Ben was okay, but why was Luke holding him up? He has always emphasized the importance of showing up on time to meal times so this was very out of the ordinary.

“Hey,” you said as Ben finally came to sit at your normal spot, looking disgruntled. “What were you doing with Luke?”

Ben gave you an unhelpful shrug. “He needed to talk to me about something.”

“Well, what was it?”

“If he wanted you to know he would’ve told you, wouldn’t he have?” He snapped.

You recoiled at his retort and you felt as though you had been punched in the gut. Your first instinct was to press and see what the other man was feeling, but you quickly realized he had shut you out completely.

You pushed away from the table. “Fine, I’m sorry I waited up for you.”

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the exit of the cafeteria, thrusting the doors open with the Force. Hot tears pricked at your eyes but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry because of him. You needed the sanctuary of your hut for assurance that you wouldn’t be disturbed.

“That, half-witted, nerd herder,” you spat, flopping yourself down angrily on your bed.

You let the warm tears slip down your face now, frantically wiping them away as if it would stop them from coming. You wished that you wouldn’t cry so easily, that a boy snapping at you wouldn’t cause you to crumble.

But, Ben wasn’t just any boy was he?

You relentlessly tossed and turned that night, desperate for rest. You just wanted to sleep and not have Jannik’s words flying around in your head. His comments shouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did but the thought of Ben having feelings for you turned your stomach into knots and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Ben’s words had also made residence in your head and you kept wondering what it was that had caused him to snap at you like that and what was it that Luke and him had been talking about.

Had you done something wrong?

The cover of your hut was suddenly thrust open and you instinctively reached for your lightsaber. You relaxed when you realized who it was.

“I can feel your anxiety from my hut,” Ben grumbled, making his way into your hut and coming over to the left side of your bed. He looked at you expectantly and you stared back at him blankly before he made a scoot-over gesture with his hands and you wordlessly complied, letting his large frame into the bed and under the covers with you.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a whisper and pulled the covers up higher to cover your body that was scantily clad in only your under garments.

“This is the only way either of us will get sleep. Unless you have a better idea?”

You were silent. You were inclined to agree with him, after all this had always worked when you were kids. But, after the way he treated you today? You weren’t going to just let him comfort you like nothing was wrong.

“I don’t want you here if you’re just going to be a dick.”

Ben stared at you without a response.

“Fine,” you retorted and started to push him out of the bed with the Force.

“I’m sorry,” he said almost so quiet that you missed it.

You stopped pushing. “What was that?”

Ben sighed. “I said, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“Are you going to tell me why you snapped at me?”

“I let my uncle get under my skin.”

“What did he say?”

Ben hesitated. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he answered honestly.

“Well, that’s all you had to say,” you replied, shoving him softly. “I would’ve understood.”

“I know, I...I’m sorry,” he repeated and you knew he meant it.

You looked into his dark eyes in the pale light and communicated your forgiveness without even having to open your mouth.

“Are you going to tell me why you were acting strange after training?”

You felt him tense beside you and he turned his gaze down. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s not like you to just bolt and not even say bye.”

“I just...” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You reached forward and grabbed his hand above the covers and his eyes flew up, surprised.

“I just want to be sure you’re okay, Ben,” you said earnestly. You didn’t want to press too much and make him retreat, but he needed to know that you were there for him.

He smiled that smile that fills your chest with warmth. “I promise, I’m okay. I was just in a rush to take a shower.”

You almost joked about the fact that Jannik thought he had a boner, but you thought better of it. After all, there's a good chance Jannik was right, just not about the part that the boner was because of you.

“What if Master Luke catches us?” you asked, back to the original topic.

“I’ll wake up just before sunrise and leave,” he answered simply.

You chuckled softly. “You haven’t changed at all have you?”

He raised a brow at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“As kids, you would always come lay with me if I couldn’t sleep.”

When you both were little and your thoughts got too loud for your head, you would sneak over to Han and Leia’s to find comfort in Ben’s bed. When his strength in the Force grew, he started to be able to sense when you were upset and he began coming to you when you needed him. His Force presence next to you always had a way of silencing the noise in your head.

On the other side, sometimes—a lot— Han and Leia would be fighting late into the night and Ben would sneak over to Luke’s hut to climb into bed with you. The first few times this happened, Han and Leia were worried Ben had run away, but then Luke would always come knocking on the door with little Ben hiding behind his legs.

If the voices in tiny Ben’s mind got too loud, either you would sense his turmoil and come to him or he would scurry over to you and vise versa. It was honestly a good system the two of you had and Han and Leia debated just making the guest room into your room, but Luke didn’t like the idea. He was over protective in that way, not that he could be blamed, given your past.

“Well, you obviously haven’t changed either if I’m still having to do this,” Ben teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said through a giggle and he smiled softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

When you woke up, Ben was gone, like he had said, but the other side of your bed still smelt like him. You took a whiff of the pillow he’d slept on and smiled.

He really hasn’t changed at all.

(Again I hope this was worth the wait!! Please let me know what you think and if you get the chance sign the petitions in the link I posted!)

Taglist: @lover1307 @bepo-is-sorry @snakelaufeyson @supervengerslock @shockwavee @kilo-wrench @ohhh-boo-tiful @serenityofbeingascintilla @ladyzirkonia @fandomshit6000 @i-am-lokii-of-asgard @siren-queen03 @dark-night-sky-99 @nickangel13 @girlyisthatweirdkid @edwardspaghedwardtozier @irreverent-dream @amberkay284 @struggling-writer

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 5 years

Text

That Girl is Poison...

PAIRING: Eddie Brock/ Venom X Reader

Summary: You’re assigned to work with the infamous but sexy and charming journalist, Eddie Brock, there to be his assistant, get him into meetings and interviews, and help him with anything he might need. Fast forward a year and you’re good friends, closer than you thought you’d get when you first met the character, and now you’ve fallen in love with him. You’re invited to a night at his favorite bar, to play a game with heated game of pool, where the winner gets anything they want, and things get steamy quickly.

A/N: So I’m watching Venom and staying up WAY too late while writing this but it’s worth it I never sleep anyway and I am now in love with Eddie Brock another fictional character yay so please enjoy this took me so long and I went kind of overboard eek let me know if you want more which I will probably give cause he’s my whole life now (also Happy New Year!!) also ALSO i crave feedback (in need of validation)

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension and themes, cheesy, mentions of alcohol, an overwhelming load of fluff (seriously it should be illegal), heavy makeout

You walk through the double doors of Eddie Brock’s private office, re-tucking in your white blouse into your tight pencil skirt, hugging your curves, a glimpse of your y/s/c skin peeking through where the top button previously popped. You curse yourself for accidentally snapping the button on your way to work in the cab and pray Eddie doesn’t see the glimpse of scandalous skin that just barely reveals your lacy, black bralette. All that you, of course, only noticed to be showing once you got to the building. Cue the small panic attack in the staff bathroom.

Eddie happens to your boss, of sorts, which means no dating according to company policy. Even when you do most of the things around here, as he always likes to tell you, you’re his rock. You do what he asks, set up his meetings and interviews, get him coffee and lunch, answer phone calls, and write articles of your own. All those late nights, caffeine-fueled cramming sessions at the office and mounds of paperwork you’ve completed together, you’ve grown close. He won’t ever admit it, but he trusts you more than anyone else in his life, sometimes more than himself. Especially as of lately.

That’s why when you walk around his desk to discuss with him his schedule, his eyes immediately dart to your slightly revealed chest, the sight of you in your flattering work clothes making his mouth go dry. His chest seizes with guilt, you’re his friend, quite possibly his only one, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Yet a wave of lust washes still over him and it’s not just Eddie that feels it.

Venom hums pleasantly in Eddie’s head, We like her, hm? She’s yummy. Yes, we do. But she’s a friend, and it will stay that way, thanks to you. Come on, I’ll behave, promise. Your promises are shit. Ouch, harsh one, Eddie.

You peer down at his frustrated expression and how he’s whispering to himself, wondering if this job has finally gotten to him and he’s gone mad, hearing voices in his head. You wave your hand in front of his face with a small, assuring smile and he looks up at you, blinking hard. His gaze flipping from confusion to complete adoration for you and your kind, picturesque, stunning features. Tendrils of hair fall down, framing your angelic face.

“Eddie,” you say sweetly with a honey-laced tongue, his eyes wanting to flutter closed at the lullaby sensation of your voice, cooing him to sleep. “Earth to Eddie, are you alright?” you say with an amused lilt in your tone, smiling at him.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he gulps, licking his dry lips, returning your easygoing smile, halfheartedly at best, and he clears his throat. “What’s on the schedule for today?”

You lean over his desk, pointing to the schedule you created for him, and he finds it hard to keep his eyes to himself, your wonderful, floral perfume and shampoo masking the air. He wishes to fall into you and never get back up again.

“You’ve got a meeting at 11 and we prepare for an interview scheduled for Monday at noon during lunch, into the rest of the day if need be. And besides that... nothing else and you’re free to enjoy your Friday night.”

Your chest brushes his arm when you stand up straight and he inhales sharply, sitting himself up along with you. You place your hand on his forearm, afraid you alarmed him somehow, and there’s lightning in your fingertips when you meet his skin. He looks at you and you pull your hand back, “Sorry, sir, I-I didn’t mean to frighten you,” you chuckle slightly.

“Oh, oh no,” he situates himself, both from you brushing up against him and the way your sweet voice calls him sir, how you’d say that term in other circumstances. He blushes at the inappropriateness of ll this. He stumbles out of his leather, desk chair when he moves to hide his excited area with his jacket.

“You didn’t, I-I’m just... tired and jumpy. Not your fault, you’re amazing... wait, no, I mean, you are, but I what I’m trying to-” he stops himself with a wiry, crooked smile. “You-you’re fine.” Your bright eyes crinkle with amusement at the sight.

Venom laughs menacingly, Nice going, Casanova. What was that before about just friends? Your heart rate has never been this high with someone just a friend... Shut it, parasite. P-parasite!? Say you’re sorry!

Eddie ignores the grumpy voice in his head and instead looks at his just a friend, you, knowing deep down the voice in his head is right.

You smooth down the wrinkles in your shirt, tucking hair behind your ear with a tender curl of your lips, “What? Got something on my face?”

He shakes his head frantically, slowing down when he sees your eyebrow raise then you smile and laugh at him. He smirks, leaning against the desk, his mind drifts to daydreaming about pressing you against this office wall, taking you right here and now.

“No, sweetheart, you look...” he gives you a once over before he can think better of it. No choice of words can fit you. And the ones that do aren’t appropriate for work so he opts not to speak at all, tongue-tied in your presence.

You run a hand through your hair, giving it much needed volume, to distract yourself from the pet name he’s decided on giving you. You like it more than you’d like to admit, “Don’t hurt yourself from thinking too hard, Brock, can’t have your death on my hands, what would the people think?” you mock gasp.

He snorts, “You couldn’t hurt a fly, no one will believe you did it. I have plenty of enemies that easily could have done it and framed you.”

“I-I can be... tough if I have to be.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t,” he laughs. “I’m just saying you’re not capable of murder, princess.”

“How thoughtful,” your lips curl. “But who will testify on my behalf if you’re not here to tell them that?” you continue to play along, tucking the clipboard of papers under your arm.

“No man in your life who could do it for you?” he flips through a random book to seem busy in front of you, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “I’m sure you have many... eligible suitors.”

You shake your head, hair falling down and hiding your flushed face, “None at the moment, no. That’s still sweet of you to think so, Eddie.”

He lifts his head up and his eyes light up when he beams at you, “Of course, any guy would be...” he locks eyes with you and your breath catches. “...would be lucky to have you, y/n.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you both think better of it and he clears his throat, looking away. He suddenly has an idea, and he knows it’s dangerous, being with you outside of work. He can hardly contain himself around you as it is, it’s a bad idea. Being alone with you... he’s done it before, all those late nights, he doesn’t know if he could do it again.

Then he does it anyway. “I have an idea.” Venom snorts, You have no self-control. You stay out of this.

“Well, that’s never good.”

“Hey,” he says with mock offense. “-some are... not so bad.”

You dissolve into laughter, filling the room with the melodic sound, hand resting over your beating heart, “One would think so.”

He rolls his eyes, unable to suppress a small, fond quirk of his full lips, “My idea... smart ass,” you guffaw at that. “-is that you could come for a drink with me...”

Your head snaps in his direction, masking your shock at his invitation as best you can. You didn’t expect this, but you’re certainly not mad either.

“Really?” you beam, cheeks flushed with color. “At O’Malley’s?

He nods and chuckles coolly, the sound resonating deeply from his chest, “So... w-would you maybe want to,” he scratches the back of his neck nervously, clamming up with an anxious chuckle. “To do that...? If you want and as friends, of course, completely professional.”

You push your hair back shyly behind your ear. “Of course. Completely...” you look him over, dark shirt, leather jacket, and black jeans, your favorite look on him, and meet his eyes once again. “Professional.”

He half smiles, “Is that a yes, then?” Your chest flutters.

You nod quickly and smile softly, “Yes, sir... That’s a yes.”

He can hardly contain his excitement when he breaks into a rare, genuine smile that takes up most of his handsome face, “Alright. I’ll see you then.” He stumbles back into his desk and catches himself on the corner. You giggle and he finishes, “After... well, work.”

“Yeah, work,” you take your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling more laughter. “Can’t forget about that.”

~~~

Eddie paces anxiously in front of the bar, taking a swig from a beer bottle the barkeep slid to him. He continues to check the time on the large clock hanging on the wall above the drinks, watching as the hand ticks, each click increasing his state of worry that you won’t show up. That he’s made a mistake. Of course you won’t, you deserve better than him, he thinks-

“Is this over a girl, big guy?” the bartender, Marty, asks, wiping down glasses.

He sighs and cracks a wistful smile, “How’d ya know?”

“Cause there’s a lovely one in the doorway looking right at you,” he nods to where you’re standing by the door.

“Keep it together, Eddie, it’s just y/n,” he whispers to himself, leaning back against the bar with a sigh as you walk over to him.

He’s frozen, seeing you outside of work clothes. You wear a plunging, red bodysuit, tucked into a pair of flattering black jeans that hit your curved waist flawlessly. His eyes are glued to that revealed piece of y/s/c skin, smooth and he finds himself wondering how you’d feel in his calloused hands, touching ever inch of you and his lips would follow. He shakes the thought away, crimson red. Your hair mussed from rushing down the bar’s stairway, trying to make it at least a little on time. You run a hand through it in an attempt to tame the beast. And he’s awestruck, you look stunning.

“I’m sorry I’m late, traffic was terrible,” you laugh, tucking a curl behind your ear. “Just a glass of red, please, Marty. Put it on my tab, too.”

“Sure thing, dollface.”

Eddie reaches for the wine glass when the bartender slides it down at the same time you do, your fingers brushing during the harmless exchange. The simplest of touches and your face goes hot. He grows flustered as well, cheeks a rosy shade of an adorable pink. You let go and he extends it kindly to you, your fingers wrapping around the base of the glass.

You chuckle, “Thanks.”

Marty takes his cue to walk back into the kitchen, just before sending a warning look to Eddie, “Everyone back here knows y/n, she’s family. If you lay a hand on her, we gotta shovel in the back. I doubt anyone would miss you.”

Eddie snorts to hide the sudden fear for his life buried in his eyes, cracking a smile in your direction, “Glad to know where his loyalties lie.”

You can’t help but laugh, “They’re harmless, Marty’s just an old family friend,” you tell him, unconsciously leaning towards Eddie, giving a delectable view of your crimson shirt and cleavage. Venom growls internally and Eddie finds himself doing the same.

“You look...” he breathes an airy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You look beautiful, y/n.” You’re caught off guard from the compliment but take it all the same, warming you up from the inside out.

You grin, growing heated under his stare, “Thank you,” you breathe out, color rising to your cheeks. “You look great as always yourself.”

He takes a sip from his beer bottle, lips curling around the rim when he side eyes you, drinking you in, “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.”

You giggle, intoxicated, not by the drink dangling between your fingers but from the heat in his dark eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind.” A door in the back of the bar catches your eye, the game room with a pool table, completely unoccupied.

Eddie has the same idea when he sees where your gaze lies and takes another sip of liquid courage before standing up from his seat, taking the bottle with him, “Play some pool with me?”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve played,” you look at him and take a sip of your wine, hiding a smile behind the glass. “I might not be very good.”

He clicks his tongue with a smirk, “You’ll be fine, we’ll make it interesting,” he hold out his hand, inviting you to take it. You look from his extended hand to his eyes and back again, cautiously resting yours in his before he pulls you from your seat, falling into his hard chest.

“Sorry,” you blow hair out of your eyes, a rosy smile gracing your face. You look at him in the eye for just a moment, breath catching.

He shakes his head, hands steadying you, placed firmly your waist, “Don’t be. You don’t ever need to apologize around me,” his mouth twitches at the side when his hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you through the tables and people.

A group of men in an isolated booth looks your way, wolf whistling and calling you over, whispering foul things to each other. Eddie picks up on the way you’re burning up, embarrassed, angry, and uncomfortable, hoping for a hole to appear in the ground below you and swallow you up before you do something you’ll regret. He instinctively wraps his arm around your waist, softly at first, tucking you into his side while you both walk, an air of safety warming your chest. Your hand on your wine glass gripping tighter.

You shut the door behind you and watch on as Eddie prepares the game, dusting the cues and setting up the balls into a triangle in the middle of the green felt. You wait and continue to look on, setting down your drink, fascinated in the way he moves. His carved from stone muscles clench and flex when he gathers everything you two need. He catches you looking from the corner of his eye and flashes the ghost of a smirk. You realize you’ve begun to like him more than you’ve let on.

He stands behind the pool table and leans against the redwood, cocking his head towards the game in question, “Ready?”

“Before we play, we should practice for the interview on Monday,” you idly walk around the pool table to him, “How do you want to do this? Practice it and I pretend to be who you’re interviewing...?”

He sighs, putting the game on hold because of that doll like look in your eyes, turning to face you, “You’re going to let me ask whatever I want instead of playing pool with me?” he tilts his head. “And you answer truthfully?”

“We can play in a moment. This is more important. Pretend I’m Richard Ford, the tech mongol you’re going to be on television with,” you chuckle, failing to remain serious, tucking fallen hair behind your ear. “See,” you grab a tendril of hair, twirl it, put it under your nose, and pucker your lips, faking a mustache. “The name’s Richard, nice to meet you.”

Dimple. “I can hardly tell the difference,” he humors you.

“I’m a master of disguise,” you let the piece or hair fall with a sweet smile. You extend your hand for him to shake, deepening your voice, “Hi, I’m Richard, it’s a pleasure to meet you Eddie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“This is the worst version of role-play I’ve ever done with a woman,” he teases when he takes your hand in his. You roll your eyes and he takes the game a step further, placing a cheeky kiss to your knuckles, nose brushing the soft skin. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

Your face lights up, heat sent straight to the knot in the pit of your stomach, “Y-you’re going to kiss... Richard’s hand, Eddie?”

“You have to make a good impression with these sort of things, it’s only polite.” He cracks a smile, “Or maybe it was an excuse for me to kiss you, you’ll never know.”

“I guess I won’t,” you flush. “Right... okay, let’s get started then.”

“No fun, all work, huh?”

“We can have fun.” You grumble with a small frown, “I-I’m fun.”

His lips curve into a smile, “Never have I ever then... while we play pool.”

You sigh, if you brought work into this you were hoping it would diminish that damn knot in the pit of your stomach, coiling and spreading like wildfire from your chest to your fingertips. This wasn’t the greatest of ideas but when have they have ever been between you two?

“And if I win?”

“Your choice,” he folds his arms over his broad chest.

You lock eyes, “Same with you?” This would only end badly. He nods.

“Fine,” you grab your pool cue and take aim, “Never have I ever cheated on a test.” Keep it innocent.

His brow pinches in confusion, taking a long sip of his beer, and setting it back down on the edge of the pool table, “You’ve never cheated on a test? Ever? I doubt that.”

“I was a good kid,” you chuckle, hitting the ball into the corner pocket. Hm, maybe you were good at pool.

“Every kid cheated on at least one test.”

“Not me.”

“You’re just a liar.” You stick out your red colored tongue, stained with wine and just as sweet, but missing your next shot.

He rolls his eyes, “Alright, never have I ever ogled at someone in this room when they were shirtless at the company retreat in Lodge Falls.” He misses and frowns. Innocent questions only, that idea seems to have been thrown out the window.

You scoff, “And you didn’t look at me?” you say while taking a quick sip, lips curled around the rim of your glass. Both of you walking around the table, remaining across from each other, neither daring to cross the distance. You make the shot, a solid color too.

“Had to distract myself with other things,” he smirks. Liar.

“Other things named Jacqueline and Angela...” you clarify for him, his eyes poring into yours, masked guilt in both of your gazes, hidden by a year of a friendship of will-they-won’t-they. You force a small smile, lessening the tension as much as you can, hitting another corner pocket, but the air has changed and something’s clicked.

His brow arches, “Were you jealous?” he asks quietly, almost afraid he’ll scare you off if he raises his voice above a mere whisper. You reach to where he stands, right beside him.

You laugh quietly, “No,” you answer quickly, too quickly, voice cracking towards the end of that damned word. Your eyes on him making him miss his shot.

His mouth twitches in the right corner, deciding to drop the clearly tender subject, he nods to the table, “Alright. Your turn.”

You walk closer to him, pool cue in hand, and an interesting idea arises, something to distract him from making a good play when he shoots next. You take a step between him and the table, making a show of bending over in front of him. He inhales sharply, too shocked to move when Venom chuckles darkly. She’s a minx, this one. I say we teach her a lesson. Eddie visibly stiffens, jaw clenched tightly, as he tries to covertly situate himself behind you while you take perfect aim, and, as expected, make an equally perfect shot.

You stand up straight again and throw him a coy look over your shoulder, “Never have I ever gotten aroused by someone in this room tonight.” If he wasn’t going to make this easy, you weren’t either.

He locks eyes with you and takes a sip of his beer. You smile. He wets his lips and sighs, slightly amused, “You, sweetheart, do not fight fair.”

You smile, feigning innocence, “I don’t remember us making any rules.”

He clicks his tongue, cutting his eyes in your direction before getting level with the table, and shooting a ball into the corner pocket. One after the other until there are only a few left, meaning your distracting tactic clearly didn’t rattle him enough. The odds don’t seem to be in your favor.

You exhale slowly, aiming your cue, just as Eddie circles the table to stand behind you.

His eyes glaze over you, “Your hands are in the wrong place, darling.”

You chuckle, delightfully buzzed, “Really?” you muse. “And where should they be?”

You stand up straight once again, his chest pressed against your back, close enough for you to hear the telltale beating of his rapid heart.

His breath is hot by your ear, your chest tightens, “Would you like me to show you?”

“Do I have much of a choice?” you breathe a laugh, voice failing you.

Eddie’s calloused fingers dance up your bare arm, eliciting goosebumps and a sharp intake of breath from you, your lungs filling with his woodsy, cedar scent. His other hand falls to your waist, thumb caressing the fabric of your shirt, making it painfully aware to the both of you of the clothes separating your skin from meeting. His sensual touch is warm and inviting, conveying a silent love letter you can’t yet read. He slides his hands down to grasp your own, placing them in the right spot on the cue stick.

You arch your back at the sensation of his his lips smugly brushing your neck, “Eddie... What are you doing?”

“Fighting dirty.” He guides you to pull the cue back, “Now aim.”

You scoff, “I’m almost impressed.”

He chuckles deeply, “High praise coming from you.” His hands encompass yours entirely when he readies you to take the shot, “And... shoot.” You hit the ball directly into the side pocket, much easier and swifter when he’s here aiding you.

You turn around, his hands on either side of you, resting against the edge of the pool table, and pinning you against it. You blush, “Thank you.”

He looks over you, eyes riddled with both lust and adoration, the more flustered you get the bigger his smirk, “You’re very welcome.”

You tuck your thumb tenderly under his chin and lift his head up, guiding him to meet your eyes, “But was this your way of attempting to distract me, Eddie?”

How do you do that, he thinks. Flip from cute to sexy so quickly? But he smirks, well pleased with himself, “Maybe... Is it working?”

You shake your head, smile, and lie, “No, I’m afraid not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You raise your eyebrows in mock offense, “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not... Because you’re a terrible one.” You scoff at that. “Might I suggest that you never get into gambling.” He walks away from you.

“I can lie,” you turn back around, ignoring his protests about your hand placement while he circles around the table, praying for no more urges to touch you again, your skin still tingling from it.

“For example...” you look up at him from your cue, “I told you I liked your ex girlfriend.” Clink. Right into the side pocket again.

He can’t help but smile at that, “You didn’t like Anne?”

You shake your head, making your next shot, “Not really, she was always jealous... of you and me. She would sometimes come up to me when you weren’t around and tell me to stay away from you.”

He frowns deeply, “I didn’t know that.”

“I know,” you look at him. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing her on account of me. I’m sure she was great besides that and I-I wanted you to be happy, so I stayed away. So when she had to move to Prague with Dan, for her new job, I just kept it to myself. I thought there was no use in telling you. Because you’ve moved on.”

“Sure, there was,” he walks back around to you, wanting to hash this out, but you didn’t expect this reaction. There’s concern etched in those worry lines between his brow and on his forehead. “You could have, sure I’ve moved on and it was a long time ago, but I-I would have liked to have known.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you breathe out. “But now it seems I have. I’m sorry, I j-”

He tilts his head curiously, “What did I tell you about apologizing, sweetheart?” he says to you.

You can’t breathe. His hands lightly grasp both sides of your face, thumb caressing your flushed cheek. You sad smile is faint, going weak from his gentle touch. “To not...” Your nose nudges his, lips brushing, and you gulp hard. You smile against him, “But when have I ever listened, hm?”

“God...” his eyes clench shut, like he’s fighting an inner turmoil you won’t ever see for yourself. “We can’t... We’d lose our jobs.”

“I know,” you nod, your hand resting over his.

Eddie’s breathing has gone shallow, hands falling to his sides, the anticipation becoming too much for the both of you. His eyes burn into yours, “You don’t make this easy, you know that?”

You lick a stripe from his bottom lip to his top, tasting the bittersweet flavor of liquor and a musk you can only classify as Eddie. You couldn’t take it anymore. You hum pleasantly at his lust blown pupils, “I though you enjoyed a challenge.”

“Y/N...” his voice is hoarse. “Stop. We can’t.”

Are you out of your mind, Eddie?! I can’t! I want to but I can’t, she’ll lose her job and I’ll lose mine, it’s not right. I won’t hurt her like that. Jobs come and go, my friend, but there’s only one y/n... Take her right here.

You lock eyes with the man and utter just two words, voice barely above a whisper, “Make me.”

His hands grasp both sides of your face once again and he pulls you to him, all restraint a distant, forgotten memory when his lips crash desperately into yours. You inhale sharply, both from surprise and delightful release as your trembling lips part for him. Wanting something for so long and finally gaining the satisfaction of grasping it, him, you, it’s almost too much to bear. Your arms tangle around his neck, ensuring there is no space between your bodies when he guides you flush against his chest. He takes your red bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, moans falling from you like sin, legs gone weak at the simple action. His lips are soft and plump, bringing a tingling sensation to your own There’s nothing rushed in his kiss, nothing harsh or fast. He’s taking his time with you, gentle hands now running languidly up and down your curves, worshiping you and your body for all your worth.

His powerful arm wraps around your back and picks you up like you weigh absolutely nothing, laying you down on the pool table. His eyes wander all over you, your body on display for him, the brown in his eyes completely diminished by the black of his pupils, dark and hooded.

You hold his face in your hand and he places a soft, fluttering kiss to the palm of your hand, leaning into your touch, “We’re so fired,” you giggle.

He runs his thumb over your swollen, rose flushed lips and smiles softly, “You’re worth it.”

Then his lips press to yours so ferociously and completely that a soft, mewling whimper escapes you, tugging on the ends of his hair, and earning a groan from him. Your smile, pleased, into the kiss and tilt your head up when his lips migrate to just below your mouth, your chin, your throat, your neck. He peppers wet, open mouth kisses anywhere he can reach, leaving fire in his wake. His big hands roam your body, roughly squeezing and gripping your thighs and your ass.

Venom grows excited, growling impatiently, My turn. No, Venom, you’ll scare her off. Now isn’t the time. Oh, Eddie... you insult me. Let’s let the girl decide that for herself. Venom, please n-

He breaks away and you frown, wondering why he pushes away from you like you’re skin was on fire.

A black, molten liquid transforms his body, encompassing him completely until he stands above the table. You look on, terrified and curious, your eyes wide as saucers. What was happening to Eddie? The monster from the news. You must be dreaming. Because this can’t be happening, this isn’t real...

Your hands are shaking as you muster up the words to question this... thing, hoping this is all in your head, “W-who... who are y-you?”

He flashes his large, razor sharp teeth, lips curling maliciously, ivory eyes slitted with dangerous intent.

“We... are Venom.”

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

Text

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Eight | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4,000

Chapter 8/24

Warnings: Just a bad word or two. Otherwise, intense amounts of fluff!

AN: This chapter gave me all sorts of fits and is nerve-wracking for me to post. Mostly because I’m putting a ton of pressure on myself. But whatever. Huge shoutout to @lucyyannabel for being a precious human being and beta-ing for me and helping me fill some plot holes. You da bomb.com. I also pulled a ton about cars from this helpful article and this article was referenced for the Harlem Hellfighters. Let me know what you think?

Chapter Seven

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

Bucky checks your distinctive handwriting for what feels like the thousandth time, double checking the address of the garage. When he thinks he’s only got a few blocks to go he picks up his pace. There’s really no need to rush, he’s going to be on time. After seeing you in his dreams and talking about you all day, intentional and not, he really just wanted to be with you.

A freshly-painted white building comes into view, the numbers on your note matching the ones painted in red block letters on the side. There’s several driveways leading into the garage; even with the rolling doors down, he can still see a flurry of activity through their windows. On his way to the front door he passes shiny cars parked out front underneath a sign proudly proclaiming “Durst & Co. Automotive”.

Cautiously he enters the sparse waiting area, unsure where you’d be waiting for him. It’s clean, tidy, with bare-minimum furniture of chairs and a reception desk. Looking out a window leading into the work area he sees a large room filled with popped hoods, tools scattered, and workbenches covered in spare parts. After a minute of awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in the empty room he hears a roar of laughter from a door behind the desk. Checking his surroundings one more time he slides around the desk. Hoping the door leads to the actual garage and not something terrifying or inappropriate, Bucky takes his chances and pushes it open. The chatter and laughter grows louder. He hears your voice and suddenly his feet are moving to follow it.

Seems to be organized chaos, Bucky thinks to himself. Looks were deceiving because the activity inside hinted at a much larger operation than what he had expected. The cars he passes aren’t junkers, they seem to come from a solid, well-paying clientele. Cars are on lifts, some engines have been raised out of the bodies. . . the only thing missing was people.

He rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks. You’re leaning against a car that’s hood is popped, one saddle shoe-clad foot resting against its grill. Your stained shirt matches the bright red bandana wrapped around your head. Hands are in the pockets of your denim overalls, sass painted on your lips. Mechanics in coveralls surround you, attention arrested by your story.

Again, the garage is filled with howls of mirth - a reaction to a witty punchline, he’s sure. He can’t help but admire you from afar. You’re more relaxed than he’s ever seen you yet you still maintain an air of assuredness that holds its own among the group of men. A smile comes easy to your fresh face. All you really need is your sparkling eyes to highlight your naturally stunning self. And then those eyes meet his and the sparkle seems to intensify.

“Oh hey, Bucky!” You wave him over and then he’s encircled by strangers and a wave of uneasiness washes through him. All eyes are on him, obviously sizing him up. Bucky makes a conscious effort not to puff out his chest. “Boys, this is my. . . this is Bucky. Bucky, these are the boys.” He receives a litany of greetings from the large group to which he tries to smile and memorize all the names he can.

“Alright boys, back to work. Sassafras has distracted us long enough.” A gruff voice breaks through and prompts the other mechanics to drift back to their tasks. A man with a head of salt-and-pepper - well, mostly salt - steps forward, Bucky noticing a slight limp to his otherwise confident walk. “So this is the guy I’ve been hearin’ about.” He smiles a big, teeth shining bright white against his dark brown skin. Towering over you, he slings an arm around your shoulder in a familial hug.

“You’ve barely heard a thing, Harve,” you retort, leaning in to his embrace.

“Is that the way you’re supposed to treat an old friend when he’s doing you a favor? No. Your momma taught you better than that.” He turns back to Bucky, eyes wrinkling kindly behind his spectacles. “Harvey Durst.” His hand moves from your shoulder and h offers it to Bucky, who grasps and shakes it.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. Heard you served, right?”

“Was in the 107th for a while, moved into special ops the last few years.”

Harvey tosses a thumb at himself. “Served in the 369th Regiment from ‘17 ‘til ‘19.”

That number, why is that number familiar. “Wait,” Bucky’s brow furrows. “You were a Harlem Hellfighter?” Blatant pride beams from your features as you watch Harvey bob his head reluctantly. “My father’s unit was in France around the same time, he said y’all were tough as nails. Never lost a trench, right?”

“Or a man to capture or a foot of ground to the enemy,” the veteran recites, as if he’s spoken the same information time and time again.

“Colonel Chester Phillips always spoke highly of your regiment. You’re the stuff of legends, sir.”

“The same could be said about you, being Captain America’s right-hand man.”

Your eyes immediately drop to examine the floor while Bucky feels heat in his cheeks. Seems like Harvey had heard a thing or two. Clearing your throat, you step away from Harvey and slightly closer to Bucky.

“Just kept him out of trouble, mostly. Nothin’ special.”

“I hear that. I fought alongside Miss Sassafras’ Grandpappy in the trenches,” Harvey points to you. “Talk about bull-headedness.”

“Sassafras?” Bucky asks, eyes flitting to you as his apprehension gives way to a grin.

“Oh yeah. When she was a youngin’ and I visited to chat with William she was always gathering up sassafras flowers and bringin’ ‘em to me as a gift. Was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Then she really grew into the “sass” part.”

“I’ll say,” Bucky directs his grin back to you.

With an eyeroll you explain, “My grandfather enlisted right before he would’ve aged out. He’d owned the shop way before the war, my mom practically grew up here. Harvey has been around as long as I can remember.”

“Only out of the kindness of your grandpappy’s heart.” Harvey shifts his focus back to Bucky in explanation. “Once we got shipped home, I was out of work and William offered to teach me his trade. He graciously passed the shop on to me when he retired. Thankfully the neighborhood put a lot of stock in William’s character so I wasn’t totally run out of business when I took over.” Bucky grimaces in sympathy.

“Good thing people had the sense to see a good man who does good work,” you mutter, a bite to your tone.

“Alright ‘Fras, don’t get worked up. It’s not worth it, darling. Almost all the other mechanics here are veterans, so if you ever need anything just ask. We’ve got each others’ backs here too, ya know?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Now,” Harvey’s voice drops an octave as he peers over his glasses at Bucky. “You keepin’ everything all honorable between the two of you?”

You choke on air before planting your hands to Bucky’s chest, urging him to take several steps back. “Thanks Uncle Harvey, we’ve got work to do, talk to you later!” Several more steps away and you groan. “Sorry about that. He can be a little protective.”

Bucky shakes his head, not sure whether he wants to laugh out loud or have the earth swallow him whole. It was a toss up. “‘Uncle’, huh? So he’s practically family.”

“I’ve known him my whole life. He’s not old enough to be my grandfather’s brother, too old to be my mom’s brother. Uncle just suits him best, ya know?”

“You didn’t tell me I was meeting family today,” Bucky teases, knocking a hip into yours.

“Steady on, he’s not technically family.”

He scoffs. “Technicalities.”

You face Bucky completely, taking him in for the first time that day. “Hi,” you hum.

“Hi,” Bucky practically beams. “Glad to see you again.”

“We were together less than 24 hours ago, huh?” Your lopsided grin whispers bashfulness. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Y’all gonna stand there giving each other googly eyes or are you goin’ to work on my cars?” a shout from Harvey reaches you both from his office.

“Mind your business!” You holler back before burying your face in your hands. Bucky can’t help but chuckle, his own relaxed state puzzling him. Seeing you a little embarrassed was more endearing than he thought it would be. “Anyway,” you perch your hands on your hips. “Let’s get you an apron and get to work. We’ll start with the basics.”

Passing a workbench you snag him an apron as you approach an engine that’s been lifted out of a car by chains. Trailing behind you, Bucky ties the apron strings and stops on one side of the machinery, you rounding the other side.

“How much do you know about engines?” you ask, zero judgment in your voice, only asking a basic question to find a jumping off point.

“Next to none. I know math and science are involved, which I’m okay at. But treat me like an idiot.”

“You aren’t an idiot, Bucky.”

“Never said I was. Just told you to treat me like one.” He winks at you which only earns a narrowing of your eyes.

“Anyway. . .” Your tone turns all business, motioning to the engine. “Cars have internal combustion engines, right? So it takes a fuel source, gas, and combines it with air. It compresses and ignites the mixture. A bunch of little explosions happen that cause these pistons,” you point toward a row of metal cylinders, “to move up and down. The pistons are attached to this crankshaft.” You move your hand to gesture the connection. “That motion makes the crankshaft turn. Then the crankshaft transfers that energy to the transmission, which ultimately powers the wheels to the car. Got it?”

“Got it. I think,” he amends, turning the process over in his mind, pieces falling into place after a few repetitions. “Okay, I got it.”

“Good. Now onto the fun stuff,” you smile a little wolfishly, signalling to Bucky that he was in for a long day of lots of information.

You run through the more technical version, explaining the physics and practicalities as well as the failings of the engine. Next, you explain what a tune-up would look like for a typical 1940s model. Soon you’ve drug him over to another car, making him clumsily replace the spark plug with your smaller hands guiding his. Next you set the mixture on the carburetor, fit new plug wires, and remind him these things should be checked on every 30,000 miles.

Currently he’s watching you struggle with a particularly rusty bolt, arm muscles straining as you finally break it free with your wrench. Your hair is a disaster, to put it kindly. Flying this way and that, becoming more untamable by the moment. But you’re so charming in this role of teacher that it only enhances your allure. Shaking his head, Bucky reminds himself to listen to your well-intentioned stream of information.

“What’s being produced right now are basically 1942s with tiny modifications. As you know, almost all production of civilian vehicles was halted in favor of supporting the war effort. So designers were stuck with getting something “new” on the assembly line as soon as peace was official. They’ve added some new body colors and a fancier bumper. We told them in the factory for years that they needed to seal the ignition so water can’t leak in and they’re just now starting to listen based on that brand new 1946 over there,” you wave vaguely behind you, nose still stuck beneath the hood.

“So what was your training like?” Bucky inquires, handing over a tool you’d asked for, hoping it was the right one.

With a hum you start, “My learning process was accelerated because of the war. It involved a ton of reading and studying, as well as a couple weeks of intensive training at a factory upstate. Usually a mechanic would need to find a shop where they could work at the lowest level doing the most rudimentary of repairs, like replacing the spark plugs like you did earlier. As they’re doing that they keep studying and move up through the system. Some people start at the bottom because they want to own their own shop or become a salesman. But most of the guys here just want to work with their hands and make an honest living doing something they don’t hate. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what it would look like for you to start down this track.”

Leaning back you gratefully accept the rag Bucky offers, rubbing some excess oil off your hands.

“Was this too overwhelming? I know I just threw a ton of information at you. Hope it didn’t scare ya. Here, triple check my work for me.”

Bucky bends to the engine. “Overwhelming, yeah. Scary? Not really. You replaced this belt, right?” At your assent his fingers trail over it, inspecting it’s fastenings. “It’s interesting work. Don’t really know how to move forward with it, if I’m being honest.”

“Don’t forget about the third attachment,” you remind as he starts to back away. “I think someone here mentioned that the V.A. provides job counseling to veterans.”

“I think you may be right. They tell you that stuff when you get discharged but at that point all I was thinking about was Ma’s cooking and hugging my sisters. Worth asking about though.”

A smile graces your lips. “I don’t blame you one bit. All good?”

“All good,” he affirms. With Bucky’s help you set the hood in place, propping your elbows on the surface to take a breather.

“Then that’s all I really had in mind for today. There’s a lot more but you’ll pick it up fairly quickly.” He thinks it’s only been an hour, maybe two at the most. Then he notices the shadows at his feet and realizes the sun is slanting through the garage windows. You must notice Bucky looking outside because you follow his gaze. “It can’t be sunset already. Have we really been here that long?”

“Guess so.”

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, leaving a giant smudge of grease in its stead. Bucky finds it too endearing to tell you anything. After a glance around the garage you say incredulously, “When did everyone leave?”

Bucky doesn’t remember when the garage had emptied either. Neither did he recall the shop becoming so clean - almost spotless. Someone had turned on a radio; the crooning of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet floats toward you from a neighboring table. The sound of Harvey shuffling around his office is the only other sign of life in the building.

“I feel like I’ve done a full day of PT,” Bucky groans as he arches his back. “Who knew leaning over an engine all day could hurt so much?”

“There’s one way to loosen up sore muscles,” you hint cheekily. You hold out a hand, waiting for him to take it. “Dance with me.”

He grips your fingers but resists your tug away from the car. “I dunno, I’m out of practice.”

“C’mon, it’s just a sway to a sweet song.”

Bucky hesitates. His last few attempts at dancing were more akin to a stumble than anything else. He can vividly remember his first night out on the town in a peaceful New York City. He can see the blonde who’d herded him to the dance floor, her grimaces as he crushed the tops of her brand new shoes. She’d been kind enough to his face but had excused herself only a minute into the song. He hadn’t danced since.

He gulps. “I might step on your toes.”

“That’s alright,” you shrug animatedly. “I may step on yours.”

There’s something so genuine, so earnest about you that he can’t help but follow your lead.

Timidly he wraps an arm around your waist, reminding himself to keep a respectful distance. Your other hand grips his bicep lightly as you step into him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to each other. Breathing the same air, sharing space. It should feel awkward. But it only feels right. His hand on your waist snakes further across your back bringing you chest-to-chest. You lean a head to his shoulder, respectful distance be damned.

S’just a dance. He reminds himself.

Taking your suggestion, he simply sways back and forth to the tune. Shifting from foot to foot you follow his feet in a slow circle.

It’s effortless.

No one’s toes gets squished. In fact, Bucky feels like he’s floating on air.

You share a sweet silence. He looks down and notices your eyes are closed. If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to answer why his chest felt so tight.

He sighs your name, prompting your eyes to open. “I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than a week.” The words slip out almost involuntarily, like an impulse. For a moment his chest tightens even more, afraid you wouldn’t react kindly.

You continue to gaze up at him and say softly, “Technically we’ve known each other longer than that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. . .” your voice goes even softer, “I really do.”

Fear releases its grip on him prompting him to pull you ever-so-slightly closer.

Neither of you know when the song ended but you are jarred out of your reverie when the radio host’s jabber breaks the spell. Moments later a new, upbeat song starts up. Sounds like Glenn Miller, Bucky thinks, foot already tapping to the bouncing trumpets and steady tap of the bass.

With boldness flowing through him like adrenaline he gives you a cheeky smile. “Let’s see if we have more than a sway in us, huh?” He pulls away from you only to give you a quick turn so your back is to his chest, arms connected and crossed over your stomach.

“What happened to being out of practice?” you sigh over your shoulder.

“Only way to be in practice is to practice, right?” Your only response is a giggle and you twirl away before coming back to him - feet flying across the concrete floor.

It is by no means perfect. Every once in a while you bump into each other or take a turn too hard. But your laughter soothes the hesitancy in him, reminds him that dancing isn’t about being perfect with someone, but just being with someone.

The song is swelling and muscle memory leads Bucky, sending you into spins over and over and over again, just enough to make you a little dizzy.

“Bucky, the oil-!” It’s happening before he can stop it. He’s spun you directly into a puddle left behind from a leak. Your foot flies through the slick, disrupting your already precarious balance. Down you fall - hard - taking Bucky tumbling with you to the ground.

He helplessly watches it happen in slow motion. Feels your woosh of breath escape when his full weight lands squarely on top of you. Rolling to the floor he scrambles to his knees beside you, words rushing out of him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay, did you hurt anything? What a fuckin’ idiot, I shouldn’t’ve - are you alright?”

Your chest is heaving, doing its best to recover some of the air that had been knocked out of you. Slowly you nod in response to his question, lashes fluttering as you seem to steady yourself.

Then you’re laughing.

A deep, unbridled, straight-from-the-belly laugh that brings Bucky back down to earth, reassures him that you can’t be hurt too badly. It doesn’t stop there - he’s fairly sure you snort in the midst of your giggles but he’s too overcome with his own chuckles to be certain. Your joy is infectious and soon he’s out of breath himself.

As the laughter subsides his hand clasps yours to pull you up to a seated position, watching you closely for any signs of discomfort. You seem fine, maintaining the grip on his hand as you join the vertical world again. You’re smiling that small smile of yours. The smile that caught his eye in the first place.

Your thumb swipes over the back of his hand and it registers just how close you are. Close enough for him to see the depth in the color of your eyes. To see every individual eyelash, to count each freckle he finds.

In a similar fashion your eyes rove his face. No doubt thinking what he’s thinking, wanting what he wants.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes raggedly.

“You better,” you gasp, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

Before he can lean down fully you’ve met him halfway, soft lips all his for the taking as your eyes slip shut.

Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss. A peck to the cheek, a smooch saying goodbye, a brief moment to show affection. Given freely, barely a blip on the radar. Kissing wasn’t something Bucky thought about often. He had enjoyed his fair share of kisses, sure.

But this. No other kiss has triggered the emotions swelling in his chest like this one. It’s almost as if he’s feeling sunshine on his skin for the very first time. Like a lamp has been lit in a room shrouded by black, glowing fiercely in darkness. Somehow he learns so much about you with this kiss. You’re soft to his chapped, pliant to his firm. Warmth to his breeze.

He leans back to catch his breath allowing his forehead to rest against yours. You hum contentedly, eyes still closed, mouth twisting sweetly.

“Hey lovebirds!” Startled, you jump away from each other. “I’m locking up, some of us have dinner waiting on us,” Harvey shouts from the office.

Grinning at your embarrassed moan Bucky helps you to your feet. “Since we don’t have dinner waiting for us, wanna catch a bite?”

With a raised brow you look down at your clothes. “I’m a mess and now covered in motor oil, no decent place would let me in the door.”

“Truly decent places welcome everyone.”

“Shut up.”

“Then at least let me buy ya a hot dog on the way home,” he compromises with a grin.

“No, it’s okay, my place is out of your way.”

“It’s almost dark, I’m not letting you walk home by yourself.”

“Bucky I can’t be that much of an imposition-”

He grabs a hand you’re waving wildly as you try to refuse. “Are you trying to get rid of me? ‘Cause it ain’t workin’.”

“Never,” you reply with a huff. “Fine.”

After your goodbye hug to Harvey, Bucky shakes his hand again before thanking him for his time.

“Get her home safe, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky ducks his head, fingers threading in yours.

Moving to leave the garage, Bucky stops you. “Hold on,” he snags a clean rag from a shelf. “May I?” he motions to your face. After you nod he gently wipes away the grease you’d relocated to your forehead during your work. He shows you the stain left behind, can’t stifle a grin when you look horrified.

“How long has that been there?” you ask incredulously then hold up a hand before he can respond, “You know what, don’t tell me.”

Spring may be on its way to summer but the evening still carries a light chill, tempting Bucky to keep you even closer than usual. Somewhere along the way you wrap your other hand around his arm, basking in the safety of being able to be this close to someone.

“I have a question for you,” he rasps.

“Yeah, Bucky?”

“Can I call you Sassafras now?”

“No.”

Chapter Nine

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #beka writes #All We've Got is Time #Chapter Eight #james buchanan barnes

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thelostguardianau · 5 years

Text

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Seven

“A Lull in Time”

(Authors note: Oh thank fuck, finally, an update! What do you mean it’s been months?? Ah shit. Sorry. Well, It’s here now, and the setup is readying for the grand entrance of the Origin Guardian! I promise, the next chapter will not take another multiple months if I can help it. Thank you @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 for helping me Beta read!)

Notice!: I’ve done some really cool art that also gives some background for these characters, please check it out!

Chapter Six | Chapter Eight

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventually Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR)

Warnings: Hints at injuries and heavy defeatism within conversation. Let me know if I missed anything!

Consciousness does not greet him all at once, and instead Virgil finds himself floating back and forth freely in his mind as his body begins to wake up slowly. Instantly, Virgil recognizes the familiar haze that has settled over his senses, and like a match, his anxiety lights up with a single strike.

Oddly enough, at first all Virgil feels is his anxiety, his senses not responding immediately and at first, that just fuels his anxiety more. This was just like the familiar haze that had been settled over him from before, when he had been faced with a very real threat and yet was unable to react due to said haze. It had settled into his head, but instead of it lying to Virgil that everything was fine, it simply rolled soft waves of calm through him, asking his body to be still, be patient. He couldn’t react, but his mind was clear, unhindered by an unsaid command.

Panic lapses over on itself roughly a few times until the first sense returns to him, touch. Though foggy at first, Virgil’s mind is eased into the understanding that his head is being cradled somehow on something soft and warm. Fingers and palms gently rub at his temples and comb through his hair in slow, soothing motions. His body is laid out on something soft but firm, it feels like the familiar bed he had been sleeping on the night before.

His thoughts swirl around vaguely, settling a heavy unease into his chest as the initial panic begins to sort itself out, and his awareness finally clears. His body feels heavy, eyelids and limbs limp against his command, a sharp contrast to his exhausted mind spiking with worry.

He can't move, he can't move, but- he can feel. And, despite this disorientation and unease, Virgil’s body feels safe. His chest raises in gentle and slow breaths, and whoever touching him moves their fingers and gently slides them behind his head, tilting it up a bit to slip behind his ears and carefully massage his neck. Slowly, his hearing comes to him, and the unease calms a bit.

“Hey, babe.. hi, hey, there we go.. can you hear me, doll?” A thumb stokes right behind one of his ears, and his sense of hearing is fully returns. Remy’s voice curls soothingly around his head, comforting, solid, and true.

“There, there, babes. Rem’s gotcha. You’re safe now.” Though still on edge, his anxieties lessen a fraction at the familiar voice speaking to him, calm and soothing.

“Now I know, doll, all this is high-key scary and after all that just happened you probably aren’t faring any better with your circumstances as is, but.. I’m making the decision to take rein of your soul’s connection so you aren’t assaulted by all your senses at once while you process, okay darlin?” A hand trailed along his temples in small, soothing circles, and despite Virgil’s heavy eyelids obstructing his view, he felt himself slowly calming down.

Gentle fingers soothed over the expanse of Virgil’s neck, a feeling that would have caused him to shutter if he could. What unnerved him was how Remy’s fingers caught slightly even with the lightest touch of Virgil's skin, it reminded him clearly at what had been done, what he had done.

“You gave me quite a fright, V.. seeing ya freak out so bad, I wasn’t prepared for it..” Remy hummed gently to the seemingly sleeping human, though any Guardian would know better when hearing Virgil’s mind go a mile a minute.

“Makes me wonder what freaked you out so bad, hon.” With a light, gentle stroke over Virgil's eyelids, the heaviness slowly faded, allowing his eyes to flutter open.

Virgil is greeted with a rather wrecked Remy, hair askew and sunglasses absent, worry lines as present as his glowing eyes, as if the lines had always been there. The small smile the elite holds is not self-assured, attempting to be comforting but still so very cautious. Remy’s thumbs still slide soothingly over Virgil’s cheeks and jaw as they share a silent moment of communication, so many questions threatening to spill out of either being, yet nothing is said. Despite the silence, there is still an unspoken understanding between them, one that knows fear and one that knows failure.

A gentle knocking draws their attention to Remy’s bedroom door, it opening slowly with Remy’s answering hum. Virgil wishes he could rub his eyes, which still feel the remnants of his brief sleep, as he is greeted with Roman’s worried gaze peaking past the door frame. Roman seems to visibly relax when Virgil’s awakened eyes meet his own, the ravenette thankful as Remy’s hands tilt his head towards the door to avoid him straining his eyes.

“There you are, Stormcloud.. Welcome back to the land of the living!” Romans voice is weak, attempting to boast in a lighthearted manner, but there's no hiding the concern and guilt in the other’s glowing red and gold eyes. Virgil can only hope his body does not look as wrecked as it feels.

Roman’s mouth opens to say something more, but a pair of loud footsteps, and a pair of slower, quieter following footsteps silence him as Ro turns to look into the hallway. It takes a second before a very disheveled Patton appears, wide watery eyes landing right onto Virgil's form. Nothing is said as Patton's hand curls over his own mouth, slowly walking into the room and stopping a small distance away. Virgil inwardly cringes as the sound made from the guardian dropping straight to his knees to be somewhat eye level with the ravenette. “Oh, Virgil..”

Logan slides up against Roman, looking just as ruffled as Remy, guilty eyes meeting Virgil all the same. Nothing is said for a long, long moment before Remy sighs, gently fingers curling soothingly along his jaw. The ability to move his jaw returns to the ravenette, but still he makes no move to speak, staring almost hollowly at the others.

“Virgil..? Can you please let us know what the fuck happened back there? An’ how the hell you got outside?” Remy’s voice reverberated in his head, though soft and calm, it still bothered Virgil some.

Shining brown eyes trailed down to Patton, thinking over his response for a long moment before speaking, “..Him. He came.. Took me.. Warned me.”

“What did he warn you about, Virgil?” Logan’s crisp voice echoed a tension that clearly indicated restrained anger. He thought for a moment, eyes unfocused as the scene relapsed in his head. With a shudder, he closes his eyes and does not respond. “Well? What did he say?”

“What does it matter, Logan? I’m doomed to die, I’m nothing more than an object of revenge, I don’t matter. That's what. And to be honest, he’s not wrong.” Logan hissed at that, “Virgil, that's not true.”

“How is it not true, Logan? I’ve all lived my life knowing only one thing is certain, that I’m destined to die. It’s just Fate’s sick cruel joke to give me some hope before I inevitably fall victim to it’s whims. Why else would it still be trying so hard to kill me? What's the point in trying to save me when we all know that I’m too weak to save myself. I’m not worth the trouble okay? I’ve been a deadman since I was born, apparently.” Virgil laughed bitterly at that last part, tears threatening to spill. “I can’t change that.”

“Virgil,” Roman’s strained voice trembles, “I don’t understand how you don’t understand that-that, you just aren’t alone anymore! You speak like we aren’t by your side! Like we can’t help you! But we can, and we will! We’re right here, with you. It’s true fate has delt you a fucked set of cards but that doesn’t mean you can’t win with them.” Roman’s voice gets closer, and Virgil dares to open his eyes. Roman is sitting close to him, slightly closer than Patton, and Logan has moved closer to comfort Patton as well.

“You can, and you will, fight this. Know why I know you can do that? It’s because you won't be doing it alone. You are stronger than you think Virgil. And you’ll be even stronger once Thomas gets here and rebuilds your soul. And with us around, more alert than ever, he won't be able to touch you ever again.” Roman hummed, reaching to sooth a hand through Virgil’s messy hair.

Virgil sighed, willing his tears back a bit with a few blinks to accept the gesture, sighing again softly when the other rested a hand on his cheek. “I want to believe you, Roman.”

He watched a tired but successful smile flicker onto Romans face, before the other leaned a pressed a gentle kiss to the others forehead. “That's a perfectly good start, Mi amor.”

“If it helps, Virgil? Now that we know his tricks, he won't be able to use it again. I don’t think he realizes he isn’t stronger than I on my own, let alone in any combination with Roman, Patton, and Remy,” Logan hummed, soothingly petting Patton’s head which was tucked under his chin, then in a lower, protective growl, “And he will certainly pay for the distress he’s caused you, Virgil.”

Virgil smirked tiredly, feeling loved and protected again. Slowly, Remy released Virgil’s senses altogether, now that he was sure the other was no threat to himself. With full control, Virgil attempted to sit up, wincing and trying not to hiss at the soreness in his body from his earlier terror filled event. Eventually he was up, though still leaning against Remy heavily, exhausted and hungry. There was a long moment of contemplative silence, tension still thick in the air but slightly more lessened now than before.

“Hey, uhm.. Virge? Can I um..” came Patton's voice after a minute, hesitant and scared to ruin the calm moment. “C-can I hold you?”

Virgil hummed softly before opening his arms, smiling faintly at Pattons soft happy cheer, and let himself be picked up by Patton. Once settled into the others lap, leaning against the others chest, Patton soothed his hands over Virgil’s sore back, trying to loosen a few knots and help Virgil feel better. Eventually Logan and Roman joined the other three on Remy’s bed, settling over one another in a haphazard but safe cuddle pile. Even Patton had leaned back, with Virgil in tow, and was now flat on his back with Virgil cuddled up on top of him and listening to the guardian’s heartbeat.

“We’ll go get some food in a bit, god knows how hungry you probably are after that. And heaven knows I need a cup of coffee after this morning’s events. But right now, lets just.. chill out. Regroup.” Remy offered, practically melting against Roman’s hands running through his hair. There was a small chorus of agreement as the mood settled into something calmer.

After a few minutes, Patton soothed a hand over Virgil’s neck, rubbing softly in hopes to sooth the irritation a bit as he spoke. “This time we’re not gonna sleep on the job okay? So, if you want too, honeybee, don’t hesitate to nap. You deserve it, okay? We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Virgil whispered, eyes drooping tiredly and of their own accord.

“We promise, honeybee.”

Slowly, but surely, Virgil allowed his eyelids to shut, hands gripping at Pattons shirt as he drifted off bit by bit. The others would wake him for food in an hour or two, but for now, they let the boy rest, and hoped that Thomas would arrive by the afternoon.

Only then, would this issue begin to be resolved.

Next Chapter

#sanders sides #polyamsanders #lamp/calm #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #chapter seven

829 notes · View notes

cleoxortiz · 4 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐨.

( cindy kimberly, cis female ) hey ! have you seen CLEO ORTIZ around ? SHE works as a BARTENDER at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 22 years old & they’ve been working here for TWO WEEKS. they tend to be AMBITIOUS & AUDACIOUS, but can also be VEXING & HUBRISTIC. the other employees have labeled them THE HELLKITE. thanks a lot ! ( the sound of stilettos against marble floors, a menacing smile worn on red lips, the glimmering lights of the manhattan skyline, a silent eye-roll that cuts deeper than words ) [ jocey, 23, est, she/her ]

it’s ya girl jocey and i’m so excited for all the fluffy holiday cUTeNesS! apologizing in advance for the terror that is cleo. she is truly the worst™. but i love the grinch stole christmas, so y’kNOW WHAT? this felt v fitting ok sdkgkgjk. so hit that subscribe like button if ya wanna plot & we can chitty chat on discord!

name : cleo valentina ortiz age : twenty-one sexuality : pansexual hometown : new york city, new york job : bartender at the avalanche pub

━ the ortiz’s didn’t always have a net worth of millions. with humble beginnings in catalonia, spain, the family moved to america a couple generations ago to expand their winery business. it was only then did the family-run business grow by producing, shipping and selling their premium wine brand. eventually they got into the nightlife entertainment business as well, through acquiring and running several bars, clubs and lounges all around america.

━ as the second and youngest child born to miguel and selena, it was never in the books for cleo to take over the family business. a traditional man, her father had always groomed her older brother, adrian, to be his successor. her father’s bias always left her feeling bitter and resentful, and only drove her ambitions and determination to prove him wrong. the more he kept her at arm’s length, the more driven she was to find an in.

━ unfortunately, her mother, a socialite/philanthropist herself, also had different plans for cleo - something along the lines of becoming a debutante and her daughter following in her footsteps. from being forced into piano lessons, ballet and etiquette classes, she absolutely despised the person her family wanted to mold her into. both stubborn in wanting to get their way, cleo and her mother’s differences pulled their mother-daughter relationship further and further apart.

━ even her mom’s passing when she was 14 did little to change cleo’s opinion in the matter. she claimed she didn’t care about the woman’s death, nor did it affect her whatsoever, and she will gladly tell anyone that. but the fact that she currently attended columbia university, her mom’s alma mater, may hint at something different.

━ a hustler with an alpha bitch mentality, she’s always outsmarting people and outsmarting the system to get things to work in her favour. and when that didn’t work, no one could ever say no to a big fat wad of cash. because cleo ortiz never loses. she doesn’t just play the game, she owns it, makes the rules and wins. every. damn. time. does she think she’s better than everyone? without a doubt. does she care about anyone other than herself? not a chance. if it ever appeared that she did, then chances are, it’s only to benefit herself somehow.

━ cleo swears by the belief that playing by the rules was for suckers and if you weren’t the best, then you were nothing at all. and sometimes being the best required playing dirty. if she has to ruin someone else’s life to get her way, then she will gladly pour a jug of gasoline, light a match and enjoy watching it go up in flames. hell, more often than not, she’ll do that just purely for her own enjoyment. because if she has to be bitter and miserable, then why shouldn’t everyone else be too?

━ with that mentality, it’s no surprise that cleo came up with a scheme to sabotage her father’s newest business deal with the owner of big bear resort. the ortiz family had been vacationing there since she was little, so it was only right that they expanded their business roots there as well. unfortunately, cleo screwed herself over with her own ambition and the scheme more or less blew up in her face.

━ in an attempt to salvage the partnership, cleo was given an ultimatum - work at the resort, or face the legal repercussions and risk losing her trust fund. she didn’t have to think twice about which option to go with. working at the resort would just give her twice as many opportunities to sabotage the deal, yet again. and this time, she didn’t plan on leaving until she succeeded. the only minor obstacle was having to actually work while she was here, but how hard could bartending be, right??

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BEST FRIEND ━ someone who can put up with cleo’s awfulness, or maybe they’re just as awful as she is. this is probably one of the few people she’s actually relatively soft for ( not that she’d ever admit it ), will always have their back & will probably? let her guard down for. gimme some soft bestie feels for this cold bitch. taken by kieran rhodes, caleb xu PARTNER-IN-CRIME ━ i’m sure even satan has a little devil on his shoulder, so cleo needs one too. basically they like to stir up all kinds of trouble together, both fueling each other’s vices. taken by ian moon, harper delgado MORAL CONSCIENCE ━ does cleo even have a moral compass? your guess is as good as mine. this is someone she is more likely to listen to and could try to sway her from doing, y’know, ~*just cleo things*~. kind of like the angel on her shoulder. often tries to get her to just be a decent human being. the cindy lou to her grinch if you will LOL?? taken by aylie greer BAD INFLUENCE ━ someone cleo is a bad influence on. she’s the little devil on their shoulder and manipulates convinces them to do ~*just cleo things*~ with her. after all, she needs to entertain herself somehow while she’s stuck here esgjdgkgk. taken by claire beauvard ON/OFF ━ they’ve been in this on-and-off relationship for what’s felt like forever and they have their moments, but didn’t always get along. despite that, they just keep coming back to each other for their own reasons. taken by marco di angelo ENEMIES ━ homegirl can piss off a lot of people just for shits and giggles, nor does she care to be likeable and personable, so i’m sure she’s got a hella long list of enemies/people she rubs the wrong way. also people she’s sabotaged, fucked over and manipulated to get her way? plz. taken by kamille osman, theodora kwon CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ━ they’ve known each other since they were kids, probably met when cleo’s family visited big bear. they can still be friendly, not get along at all, or maybe it’s an ex-friend situation. UNWANTED CHILD ━ cleo somehow ended up being this person’s very reluctant mom friend. she hates it, she does not want to deal with them, and yet she’ll still go pick up their drunk ass at 4am. she’s all about tough love, so while she may be super harsh and hard on them, she does it because she cares ( not that she’d ever actually admit to caring ). taken by leo takanashi UNLIKELY/ACCIDENTAL FRIENDS ━ they shouldn’t get along, but somehow they just do and their friendship works. not typically someone cleo would see herself being friends with, but one way or another, an accidental friendship of sorts developed. taken by callie macdermot, nadia perez, ivan anderson MUTUAL ANNOYANCE ━ they annoy each other to no end and just live for pushing each other’s buttons. not quite a hatred, but some days, it’s pretty darn close. maybe there’s some sexual tension involved cuz that’s always the good shiet. taken by axel schaefer HOOK-UPS/FWBS ━ self-explanatory. a girl’s got needs. whether she actually likes you as a person or not, if you’re hot, then you’ll do the job. rip why is she like this. we can make it angsty or not because tbh cleo can be pretty possessive sometimes, so y’knOW. taken by roman walsh

okay, that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. some plots i’m open for multiple characters to fill, unless it has been crossed out. and ofc, i’m always open to new ideas too!

#bigbearintro #intro. ( cleo ortiz. )

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vegetacide · 4 years

Text

Cloak and Dagger

Veg●notable: Okay, I had a little fun with this and took a few liberties with one of the boys… It worked for I wanted but I am not sure how it will be received... ::ducks behind a Tracy so she doesn’t get hit with anything...::

Also I am kinda being a pantser with this chapter.. I have a general idea of where I want it to go but I didn’t suss it out like I have in other chapters so please excuse if the pacing if off. I kinda let the Boys tell me where they wanted to go and what sort of interactions they wanted to have….and they may have gone a bit off course..

As per the norm.. All errors and such are my own.

Read, review, like, reblog.. Whatever the platform, it is very, very much appreciated and it all acts as my motivational fuel.

Previous Chapters

Intro | One | Two

Chapter 3: Games

Enjoy!

o0o

Scott drummed his fingers along the careworn surface of his father’s desk, his gaze lost to the middle distance as he thought over the information that had just been brought to him. Not that there was much, which was the problem in and of itself.

Kayo and Lady Penelope had had very little to tell him. After Fuse’s botched attempt at the old, disused power plant to obtain nuclear material he’d just up and disappeared. Their security expert and London agent had been traipsing around the globe trying to track down leads for weeks now but there was no sign of the Chaos member, his sister or for that matter the Hood… anywhere..at all.

For the Hood on his own, it wasn’t that unusual. The criminal would go quiet for a spell and not resurface for months. Now that he was with the Crew, that was an entirely different story.

Normal some tidbit of information would crop up of a sighting in some far corner of the world, or a rumour of some heist or another would drift about on the dark web. Either Lady P would poke at it to figure out if it was worth further effort or Kayo would get a call from the GDF to check with some contacts but everything had gone silent. There was nothing, no where.

Scott looked up at the muted holo-cast. A variation of the same headline scrolled along under the chrome anchors’ desk and something in the pit of his stomach tightened. This eerie feeling of foreboding had been dogging him since the plant and he just knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Picking up an old school stylus that for some reason his father had kept even with the advent of modern computer interfaces, Scott examined its length. His father had owned it for as long as he could remember. He’d once asked Jeff why he insisted on keeping it and his father had smiled in that way he did and had said that ‘somethings were just worth keeping.’ He hadn’t elaborated in any other way or given any other hint to his reasoning after that. It left Scott scratching his head in confusion.

Even now all these years later he still didn’t understand though as he looked at the smooth finish and felt the weight of it between his fingers, he could understand its appeal. It provided something tangible to hold on to, tactile.

In his case not only physically but it also provided him with a psychologically connection to the man they all missed so much. A man he truly wished was with them right now.

Maybe the great Jeff Tracy would be able to wrap his head around all this, come out with a master plan so at the end of the day the world was a better, safer place. Scott certainly didn’t think he had the chops to do it himself. Self doubt was a bitch especially when there was no supporting hand to guide you.

His father was going to come home, Scott knew that for sure. WIth Brains basically locked away working on the zero-x engine it was only a matter of time. Scott just hoped that when they got their father back…. Why was he even thinking about this? Setting the stylus back down, he rubbed at the back of his head in hopes of dispelling the direction of his thoughts. This was not helping.

Snagging his forgotten cup of coffee, he took a swig and grimaced. Cold and it was the good stuff from Virgil’s hidden stash behind the lima bean in the pantry. Eyeballing the drink with its thin layer of cream film on top, he sighed and tossed the rest back. It was too much effort to haul his ass downstairs for a fresh cup, besides his brother would kick his butt if he were to find out he knew of the existence of the rich, smoky ground beans and had wasted it. Better to just suck it up and deal with the cold brew then risk the engineer’s wrath.

“Thunderbird 5 to base.”

“Hey John,” Scott greeted with the raise of his now empty coffee mug. “What’s up?”

“Just letting you know Grandma is on approach. Will be there in t-minus 5”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

John nodded in return and they sat in silence for a moment. By the controlled look on John’s face Scott could tell that the monitor was working up to say something more. Leaning back in his chair, he cocked a foot over one knee and steepled his fingers as his brother processed whatever it was that was on his mind.

Scott didn’t want to push but time was ticking. “Johnny….?” He knew the use of his brother’s childhood nickname would get the ball rolling.

John’s eyes narrowed in annoyance at the moniker but the redhead let it slide. “How’s it going down there?”

Scott dropped his hands, pushed up to his feet and walked the short distance to the sunken seating area. “As well as can be expected.” Taking the steps down he parked on his usually couch with a heavy sigh. Sinking into the cushions with a slouch and tossing an arm up and over the back.

“That sounds...” John paused as he searched for the appropriate word, “to steal a phrase from Alan.. craptastic.”

One shoulder went up in a shrug and Scott dragged in a deep breathe. “Ya, well. Shitty situation but you know how these things go. Time and space and all that.”

“Time and space?” A smirk settled on John’s face. “This coming from you. Eos mark down the time and date. Scott is being reasonable”

“Time and date noted, John.” Came the young voice of the A.I. “I have also taken the liberty of recording this interaction for posterity in the likelihood that you want to revisit the momentous occasion.”

John chuckled as the light ring came into the view field of the camera. The array of little lights flashing in what Scott could only conclude as amusement at his cost. The A.I was learning and learning fast and Scott didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Hardy har.” A dry sound, accompanied by an eye roll. “Am I really that bad?”

The stare and awestruck look he received by way of answer should have been enough.”Aw, come on…”

“If smother hen was in the dictionary, Scott. You would be the picture beside it.” It was said rather frankly and that irked Scott into yet another eyeroll. “Matter of fact, it might actually already be in Urban Dictionary..”

“Okay. Okay..I get it. Enough already.” Scott’s boredom and disdain at the direction of the conversation wasn’t hard to miss. “I can’t help it. I worry about all of you.”

John took pity on his elder brother, the smile leaving his face. “I know you do, Scott. Especially when it’s Virgil.”

Scott sagged further into the couch.

“We all need to fall apart every now and again. The same applies to Virgil.” John spoke, his voice carrying across the distance. “As much as we rely on him to be the family rock, even a rock wears down over time when enough stress is applied.”

“Ya, I know. You’re right.” Scott leaned forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he looked at the floor. “I just wish…” He didn’t finish his train of thought.

“Scott, he’ll be fine. Just give him the room to breath and in a day or two he will be right as rain again. He needs to stew this over a bit.” John shifted his gaze away from the cam, his projected hand skimming over something off screen.

“Well from what Brain’s has told me, Virgil has him doing system checks on all the wash-bays. Maybe an answer will be there for him.”

“You talked to Brain?”

“Yes, just before calling you. He wanted me to look at some computations. Double check his math and he didn’t want to bother Virgil with it” Floating about the space station some 22,000 kilomitres above them, John glaced backup a moment. “Why? Haven’t you talked to him?”

Scott sat up a bit straighter, sheepishly ashamed that the yelling the night before had sent the mousy genus into hiding in the bowels of the island. “Not since we got back..”

“Oh,” John failed to hide the nonplussed expression that flashed across the screen. “Glad I was off world last night than..:”

“Jay, you’re always off world”

John couldn’t say anything to counter that and Scott knew it. The star obsessed Tracy rarely made landfall and Scott tried to think back on how long it had been since the astronaut had been forced to submit to some down time.

“Scott, you’re getting that look in your eyes again.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I need to smother’ look that comes with the forehead wrinkles of the elderly.. Don’t you dare set your sights on me. I am needed up here with full access to all of 5’s systems and you know it.”

Scott put his hands up in surrender, not wanting to have another sibling forcibly shutting him out. “Message received and watched the old person jokes. They are laugh lines not stress.. The hair though, that’s all from you guys.”

John looked off camera again and his expression changed from brotherly bemusement to curious. “Aunt Val is reaching out. I’ll patch her though.”

Scott cursed under his breath and ignored the admonishing glare from space. Seemed he hadn’t sworn as quietly as he thought, good thing Gran….

“Scott Bartholomew Carpenter Tracy!”

Scott flinched at the sudden loud bark of reproach directed his way as his Grandmother marched into the room, fire and brimstone in her wake. “You were not raised in a barn, young man.” Crap, his diminutive elder was not impressed, especially if she broke out the little known and seldom used ‘Bartholomew.’

He was the only brother out of the five to be graced with the additionally middle name, gifted to him as the first born from his great, great Grandfather. A Tribute to a war vet that his father had been blessed with as well and one that made Scott shudder every time he heard it.

“Well technically… “John piped up earning him a warning glare from Scott.

“Gee John, thanks for the warning.. “ Scott grumbled with little enthusiasm and dripping with sarcastic annoyance.

“I did,” John blinked.

Scott contemplated several ways to seek revenge over the tirade of the fierce and feisty Sally Tracy and most of them involved airlocks and a module full of moldy bagels.

John did his level best to hide his smile at the misfortune of the eldest. “I told you she was on approach and you know she has the ears of a bat, Scooter.”

Scott glared at the space nut but all he got in return was a very large grin before the monitor disappeared and the 3D rendition of his Godmother materialized.

“Colonel Casey” Scott acknowledges, his Grandmother patted his knee in greeting and settled down on the couch beside him, the vexed look still sparking in her cerulean gaze.

“Valerie,” His Grandma piped up. “You’re a sight for sore eyes”

“Scott. Sally.” A crisp, formal acknowledgement. Definitely a business call.

The tone made Scott straighten his spine, posture ramrodding as his years of military training kicked in. Pushing to his feet, the Commander of International Rescue took up the forefront of his mind. The dilemma of the current Tracy drama brushed aside as the call to arms; so to speak, was issued by his honorary Aunt’s projected persona.

“What can I do for you, Colonel Casey?”

“Orders come down the pipe, Scott. General Abner informed me this afternoon that World Council has declared Kazakhstan a no fly zone. All personnel, both combative and civilian are on evac orders effective immediately. As of 23:00, anything in or outbound found crossing restrictive airspace will be termed hostile and dealt with accordingly.”

“And as our liaison..?” Scott asked, bracing for the answer that he feared.

“I’ve been advised to inform you that the restriction extends to International Rescue as well. Under no circumstance is International; Rescue to enter that airspace. Any action will be seen as an act of aggression against the WC and those perpetrating said act are to be shot down.”

“Noted.”

“Scott, you need to abide by this ruling. This is from way up the food chain. There will be nothing I can do to help you if these orders are disregarded. “ Casey stressed. “You will be on your own.I’ve also been instructed that anyone aiding and abetting is to be brought in and prosecuted under the full force of the law.”

Meaning, the whole family would be under threat and the whole might of the GDF would be pointed in their direction. Even though they claimed no allegiance to any known entity, International Rescue and by turn the Tracy’s would be marked as traitors “I understand Colonel.”

Essentially the country has been walled off and Scott wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He just hoped that there would be no call out for iR in the vicinity of the damned country but he knew from experience hopes and wishes were very seldom taken into consideration.

-o-o-

Some 6,500km away, tucked under a remote mountain village on the furthest edge of Kazakhstan a display monitor beeped to life with the flow of garish, green text. Servos hummed, fans ticked on and a smile crept across the harshly angled face with amber eyes.

Piece by piece plans that had taken months to arrange were finally starting to come together. Money had passed hands, people had been bought, information exchanged and like pawns on a chessboard, the players were shifting into their places.

Looking at the board, the queen slipped into place and unbeknownst to all but one, the king now sat vulnerable. The end was in sight.

Let the games begin.

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #Virgil Tracy #Tanusha Kyrano #Kayo Kyrano #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Lady Penelope #Pen and Ink #Grandma Tracy #Colonel Casey #Cloak and Dagger #international rescue

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zcvczx · 4 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐳𝐨.

*/ EMILY RATAJKOWSKI , 23 , CIS FEMALE , SHE/HER . i just watched dean matthews pull zoyenka voznesensky into his office. maybe it has something to do with them being a member of phi alpha phi. yeah, i spoke to zo a few times. they’re a senior studying business administration. apparently they’re from new york city, new york. maybe that’s why they’re so vexing and audacious, i don’t know, man. all i know is they’re always listening to needed me by rihanna. / jocey , 23, est, she/her .

ayyyye ya girl is back with her second bby, zo. apologizing in advance for the terror that is zoyenka. she is truly the worst™. hit that like button & i’ll slide into dem dms real quick.

name : zoyenka voznesensky ( will not acknowledge you if you can’t pronounce her name. true story. ) nickname : zo age : twenty-three sexuality : pansexual hometown : new york city, new york chapter : phi alpha phi major : business administration extracurriculars : cheerleading ( base ), dance team, mock trial

━ the voznesensky’s didn’t always have a net worth of millions. with humble beginnings in saint petersburg, russia, the family moved to america a couple generations ago to expand their distillery business. it was only then did the family-run business grow by producing, shipping and selling their premium vodka brand and maybe some other less than legal products too. eventually they got into the nightlife entertainment business as well, through acquiring and running several bars, clubs and lounges on the east coast.

━ as the second and youngest child born to dimitri and natalia, it was never in the books for zoyenka to take over the family business. a traditional man, her father had always groomed her older brother, alek, to be his successor. her father’s bias always left her feeling bitter and resentful, and only drove her ambitions and determination to prove him wrong. the more he kept her at arm’s length, the more driven she was to find an in.

━ unfortunately, her mother, a socialite/philanthropist herself, also had different plans for her - something along the lines of debutante and her daughter following in her footsteps. from being forced into piano lessons, ballet and etiquette classes, zo absolutely despised the person her family wanted to mold her into. the only things she didn’t mind as much were the gymnastics and language lessons ( russian, french, spanish & italian ). both stubborn in wanting to get their way, their differences pulled their mother-daughter relationship further and further apart.

━ even her mom’s passing when she was 12 did little to change zo’s opinion in the matter. she didn’t care about the woman’s death, nor did it affect her whatsoever, and she will gladly tell anyone that. but the fact that she accepted her offer at NEU and pledged phi alpha, her mom’s sorority, may hint at something different. despite now being a part of greek life, she still doesn’t buy into any of the sisterhood crap and thinks it’s all just a load of BS. but of course, that didn’t stop her from wanting to be president, if only for the power.

━ a hustler with an alpha bitch mentality, she’s always outsmarting people and outsmarting the system to get things to work in her favour. and when that didn’t work, no one could ever say no to a big fat wad of cash. because zoyenka voznesensky never loses. she doesn’t just play the game, she owns it, makes the rules and wins. every. damn. time. does she think she’s better than everyone? without a doubt.

━ zo swears by the belief that playing by the rules was for suckers and if you weren’t the best, then you were nothing at all. and sometimes being the best required playing dirty. if she has to ruin someone else’s life to get her way, then she will gladly pour a jug of gasoline, light a match and enjoy watching it go up in flames. hell, sometimes she’ll do that just purely for her own enjoyment.

━ with that mentality, it’s no surprise that zo was on track to becoming phi alpha’s president. but it was also her ambition that screwed herself over in the end. last year, an all too eager zo wanted a quick loophole to move from vice president to president because she just didn’t want to wait another year. so, she framed the then-president for stealing funds from the sorority, but was consequently busted, removed as VP and put on probation.

━ after that debacle, zo decided to do an exchange program in france for a semester, as a way to escape the aftermath. now she’s back with her head held high, still one month on probation, and ready to move on. but then again, why take the high road when the low road is so much more chaotic and fun? her presidency was already taken from her, so what else was there to lose?

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BEST FRIEND ━ someone who can put up with zo’s awfulness, or maybe they’re just as awful as she is. this is probably one of the few people she’s actually relatively soft for ( not that she’d ever admit it ) and will always have their back. possibly even one of the few people she’ll ever let her guard down for. gimme some soft bestie feels for this cold bitch. taken by minka kellar ( little ), kieran rhodes, alana brooks SISTERS, I GUESS ━ zo really does not give af about all this sisterhood crap and she just doesn’t buy into any of it. but there’s bound to be a couple of phi alpha girls who have grown on her over time. perhaps someone she pledged with? she’d never admit it, but she would give a bitch the smackdown if they tried to mess with them. taken by hannah maddison MORAL CONSCIENCE ━ does zo even have a moral compass? your guess is as good as mine. this is someone she is more likely to listen to and could try to sway her from doing, y’know, ~*just zo things*~. kind of the angel on her shoulder? often tries to get her to be nicer and overall be a decent human being. taken by garrett shepherd BAD INFLUENCE ━ i’m sure even satan has a little devil on his shoulder, so zo needs one too. though more likely than not, zo’s that little devil. basically they like to stir up all kinds of trouble together, either with her egging the other person on or they both fuel each other’s bad habits. taken by lennon winter, kamelya tansel EXES ━ either she dumped him/her, or she was dumped ( in which case, rip my friend ). maybe there are some lingering feelings. maybe she’s still hella soft for them. could be interesting if they’re very different from zo and that’s why it didn’t work out despite the chemistry or whatever. and/or the relationship ended when she abruptly left for her exchange program. ENEMIES ━ ho’boy. homegirl can piss off a lot of people just for shits and giggles, nor does she care to be likeable and personable, so i’m sure she’s got a hella long list of enemies/people she rubs the wrong way. also people she’s sabotaged, fucked over and manipulated to get her way? plz. taken by leticia viterra CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ━ pretty self-explanatory. they’ve known each other since they were kids and their parents are likely friends. maybe their moms were in phi alpha together. they can be close, or not get along at all, or maybe even an ex-friend situation. taken by alexandria boss UNWANTED CHILD ━ zo somehow ended up being this person’s very reluctant mom friend. she hates it, she does not want to deal with them, and yet she’ll still go pick up their drunk ass at 4am. she’s all about tough love, so while she may be super harsh and hard on them, she does it out of love and because she cares. not that she’d ever actually admit to caring. taken by noelle faust UNLIKELY/ACCIDENTAL FRIENDS ━ they shouldn’t get along, but somehow, they just do and their friendship works. not typically someone zo would see herself being friends with, but somehow an accidental friendship of sorts developed. taken by lincoln hayes MUTUAL ANNOYANCE ━ they annoy each other to no end and just live for pushing each other’s buttons. not quite a hatred, but some days, it’s pretty darn close. maybe there’s some sexual tension involved cuz that’s always the good shiet. taken by sydney marco ( roommate ), zane wancosh HOOK-UPS/FLINGS/FWBS ━ self-explanatory. a girl’s got needs. whether she actually likes you as a person or not, if you’re hot, then you’ll do the job. rip why is she like this. we can make it angsty or not because tbh zo can be pretty possessive sometimes, so y’knOW.

okay, that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. some plots i’m open for multiple characters to fill, unless it has been crossed out. and ofc, i’m always open to new ideas too!

#neu.intro #intro. ( zo voznesensky. )

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