#GIVE ME MY COMMA OR GIVE ME DEATH
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THE TUMBLER DESKTOP LAYOUT IS GARBAGE ON TOP OF EVEN MORE GARBAGE. OLD MAN IN MISERY.
X-kit, my love, it won't be long 'fore I employ thine services.
I only did this to actually access my Crowley files, since research is not something done on a phone. Research is a desktop activity. But. what is this mess.
Hmmst. I wonder if Tumbler will let me use commas in tags now, or if I'll still have to resort to the humble downwards-arrow emoji
#posts i would make if i was on tumbler#I STILL CANNOT USE COMMAS#AT LEAST I CAN EDIT TAGS NOW?#LITTLE VICTORIES. SILVER LININGS.#GIVE ME MY COMMA OR GIVE ME DEATH#COMMA#WAIT!#I GOT A COMMA. SOMEHOW.#YOU GOTTA GO EDIT IT RETROACTIVELY#I LOVE YOU
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Yeah, um, oops. Recently became aware of this.
#my writing style in a nutshell#give me commas or give me death#have I made any changes after coming to this realization ?#no. of course not.#writing problems#attempting to write my way out of depression
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bro like idk why can't I be satisfied being single. I was up until everything felt... not perfect but like. good! excellent! bright and wonderful! and now it's like. OK why am I bothering to wake up in the morning. why an I bothering to eat. why do I bother to brush my hair or shave or wash my face. none of it makes ME feel better about MYSELF.
God. fuck man idk. get me in therapy for the love of God so I can make friends without spiraling for 2 weeks after a really great connection and then cutting all ties and beating myself up about it for the next . 4/5+ years lol.
#like yay yippee i love my friends! we'll be together forever#is alone for 5 minutes with my thoughts.#everyone will leave me everyone is goijg to die i will either have to arrange their funerals myself or not be allowed to have any say what#so ever on their final rights and being friends will not give me the privelege of seeing them on their death bed#and regardless i know i am never the most important person in someones circle of friends. i never will be and i have to accept that.#it just fucking sucks. its not like i can live common law or get married any way. so none of it fucking matters. i just wish#idk. i just want to feel desired i want to feel loved i want to feel wanted in the most uncomplicated way possible. i want to#laugh into someones neck while i ride them and feel SAFE and WANTED and TRUSTED and DESIRED#UNFORTUNATELY. COMMA. I CANT HAVE GOOD THINGS.#idk#maybe i just need more pillows on my bed.#i cant have stuffed animals bcus they creep me out. and make me upset.#idk. ill never be loved the way i want to be loved because i cant fucking let myself be happy. lol.#im going to fucking explode. i hate this body i hate this mind i hate this face and these hands and everything about myself#ill never be able to look in the mirror and see Me#any way.#more pillows and 6mg dose of shrooms all at once would probably fix me.
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Hiya! I’m so happy your requests are open omg your writing is impeccable. So I’ve been with this concept in my head for so long since I read this prompt somewhere: what is with your weird fascination with me?
And just immediately my head started creating a story about reader having the nickname ‘Death’ because she has the highest body count known, skilled as no other and, also, imposible to know on a deeper level because she is like a wall, not letting anyone in. Until John Price needs her for a mission and is, as the prompt says, fascinated by her (and feeling other things he doesn’t want to admit), and is able to break her a little when he gets hurt in a mission after months of working together.
Glory to the Reaper
PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: He was strange, you admitted to yourself. Always around even when you didn't want him to be. But perhaps the Brit just might surprise you.
WORDCOUNT: 5.8k
WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, gore, canon typical violence, avoidance tactics, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, etc.
A/N: I switched around the codename but it's still the same plot! Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
Your eyes slip over the file on the table, slowly caressing the parchment with easy and careful consideration of every word and comma—searching. Focusing. You hum under your breath and slide the page away to spy on the one behind it, the room quiet and the air cold. Outside the window the entire compound is asleep, only the light of the street lamps illuminating the land; inside this office, your feet barely shuffle over the tuft of the rug.
Clicking your tongue, you go to the next document in the pile.
The still-warm body flinches and jerks below you, but you barely notice—he hadn’t put up much of a fight; wasn’t memorable. Sighing and itching over the mask along the bottom of your face, you snatch the last six papers from the desk and fold them four times, stuffing them into your vest pocket.
Stalking with sure steps, you press into the radio on your gear as you step over the body and head to the door. Bloody bootprints follow behind you like a crimson shadow of surefire death.
“Actual, intel secured. Heading to Evac now.” Laswell was listening intently on the other end, your Op of the highest priority.
You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, surely. The small click from the other end greets you as you shove open the office’s door and saunter down the hallway paved with glints of marble and pools of viscera like a Roman horror story. Eyes numbly slide past the scores of bodies; necks slit and stomachs burst from bullets fired through silencers.
“Good job, Tomb,” Laswell utters, voice fast and serious as always. “What’s the clean-up status?”
Your lips flinch upward, “I suggest fire and a prayer, Actual. But no one knows I’m here. Main house is neutralized.”
A small pause later and a huff of dull amusement.
“Copy, Tomb. Your ride is waiting—best not to miss it, we need you back sooner than later.” The structure of your lungs rearranges in a small chuckle that echoes off the ceiling; molten silver from the moon slips over your darkened form. The patch upon your right shoulder is illuminated in steady intervals, the familiar image of a mausoleum and a guarding Sphinx.
Alone, that patch is, with no other dark affiliations beyond that demonic cause. Many see it right before they meet their end, but the insignia was entirely left to ruin—no one sees it and lives besides other soldiers.
“Copy.” Your voice is easy and bland as the curtains from the single open window shake in the breeze. “Tell the boys I’m on my way.” You pass the window and slap a gloved hand to it, hearing the squeak of the frame as it hits back down before you turn the corner, slinking away to reform into a figure that evokes grim glances and sliced sentences.
—
You stare into blue eyes with a sheen of disinterest coating your own, hands stuffed into your pockets and gear heavy on your chest. From your shoulder, the strap of your rifle sits as you speak, tilting your head, “Captain Jonathan Price of Task Force 141.”
The man was tall, you admit, fit and formed to harsh military life. Undoublity he’d been in the service for decades. You’d seen his face before—the brunette beard and the strong jaw; small eyes with wrinkles, it’s how you had ID’d him. Plus the bucket hat. Laswell had told you he’d been inquiring about your file and you’d done your own digging off the books.
John grunts a greeting before nodding.
“Pleasure. Tomb, was it?” On the tarmac, you glance around with stiff shoulders as the blades of the helicopter slow down behind you. Morning was just on the horizon, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the flight back.
Lips thin, before your vision slides back into place. John’s hands are crossed casually, but his blue holds glints of intrigue. You don’t like that. “...The one and only. Excuse me.”
Walking past, you move like a crane, legs taking long, steady, strides. A hand comes up to scratch at your cheek through your face covering. Laswell was expecting you immediately.
And those feet at your side were not supposed to be there. Your eyes shimmer lowly at the shadow of John as he follows.
“Should tell you that Laswell’s in building two, then.” Pace halting, the Captain continues off on his own as your sharp gaze burns into his neck. He spares a glance over his expansive shoulder before adjusting his course to the East. “Told me to bring you to her. We need to have a little chat, yeah?”
You stay silent, watching John travel to the larger building where Laswell was apparently now waiting for you. After a still minute where you listen to the birds waking up and the scent of dew is in your hidden nostrils, you sigh deeply and roll your shoulders before beginning to walk behind.
“Hm,” Garbled grunts are only heard by you as you stay well enough back from the man. Cautious as you stare at his head.
He holds the door open for you when you finally make it, and you stand blankly from the opening as John’s calloused hand clenches over the door. When you don’t enter, the Captain shakes his head and releases a deep chuckle.
“Alright, then,” he mutters, shuffling through the door first. You follow the strain of his back until you look away and reach for the barrier, pushing it back from you. Making your way inside, you sigh and wonder what you’re getting into.
“Laswell said you don’t like strangers,” eyes peek back at you as the buzzing from the overhead lights echoes in your ears. Your throat releases a hum; shoulders showing a picture of wound ease. “Can’t say she’s wrong, now can you?”
Watching another soldier pass the two of you, you tilt your head to make sure the stranger’s footsteps turn the corner before you answer John’s question with a raised brow to mirror his own.
“Did she also tell you that I don’t plan on joining One-Four-One, Captain?” His bearded smirk catches you slightly off-guard, perplexed by not even the hint of shock in his gaze. He’d done his research.
John grunts as his eyelids narrow, amused. Your muscles tense.
“Affirmative.” The meeting room door is opened and this time he allows you to ease your paranoia by slinking in first.
In the room sits an occupied Laswell, a long table, a projector, and black-out windows. Confused but used to last-minute changes, you simply enter silently and pick a chair with your back to the wall and a good view of the room.
“Laswell,” you utter in greeting as the woman hums a hello, shifting through numerous files. In your breast pocket, you pull out the files you’d stolen and toss them onto the wood. John stands near the entrance with crossed arms, hips shifting every so often as his feet re-situate themselves.
He blinks down at the papers and then back to you with a careful glance at Kate.
Your Station Chief chuckles when she looks at you, tilting her head before she snatches the prize.
“Good work as always, Tomb.”
“Why is he here?” You get to the point, one hand going up to brush over your hair as the other sits limply on the seat’s arm. Your gear sits heavy on you, but that brutal tic of curiosity blooms.
John’s lips twitch before he answers, “An offer. Knew I wouldn’t be able to meet if Laswell wasn’t the mediator, eh? You’re bloody difficult to track down.”
“Offer?” Small talk never mattered to you, hadn’t since you’d signed up, and probably never would. You didn’t understand why people beat around the bush—just say what you need to say and get it over with. There was only so much time in a day.
It seemed John Price carried part of that opinion as well.
Blunt, you admit to your opinion of the man, and sure of his strengths.
“I need your skill set.” Kate looks back and forth between you two before she focuses on her work, multitasking. John continues, pointing a hand at you in demonstration from their hold on his chest. “Mission in three days. Turkey…” He watches you closely as if gauging your abilities. “You in or out?”
You wait in a dim silence for a minute or two before you tilt your body to Laswell, eyes still stuck in stormy blue and pale wrinkles inlaid with dirt.
“Kate?”
“Totally off the books,” the woman says confidently, pen sliding over paper. “Two targets in Bursa. There’s a file in your office.” Raising a brow, John hides his cheeky smile behind a bored mask.
“Take your Lieutenant,” you glare, “Ghost, was it?”
Price shakes his head, hat flinching along with it. “On assignment. I’ll need an answer today, Tomb. Time’s ticking.”
Your jaw clenches in annoyance, “Capture or kill?”
John shrugs nonchalantly, “Either. Is this a yes or a no?”
In this game of cat and mouse, you find yourself slipping. Your obligations as a soldier call to you to take the mission immediately, but for the simple fact that this Captain was unknown to you—and apparently, you weren’t unknown to him.
John was checking all of the boxes of people you didn’t like to be around.
Your voice grits out, eyes burning in their glare, “...When?”
His smirk makes you want to storm out.
“Tomorrow. 1300.” The air in the room is thick, tense like a thick layer of molasses was overtop everything. Under the table, your foot taps to the steady beat of your heart, your face tensed, and the layers of your facemask suddenly too formed to your neck and chin.
Twitching your nose you dig your eyes into John, peeling down his expansive shoulders and chest to take in the layers of packs and other miscellaneous items. His thigh holders and the way they hug his legs. You end with one last dead-on look into his eyes, trying to pinpoint intentions and flay the lines of his brain.
Most people glance away, but John returns the look with a casual tilt of his head and a raised brow. Not at all off-put.
Your hand steadily clenches over the chair.
All you give him is a firm nod—nothing more than a mere jerk of your chin. Kate sighs from where she’d been watching.
“Perfect. John,” she points her pen at the Captain as you both stare off. John grunts before his eyes flicker to the side, leisurely roving back moments later. You blink and rub your forehead. “You have your answer. Now would the both of you get the fuck out of here?”
“Copy, Kate.” John sighs, and you huff; standing as you plan out the amount of time you have to clean up and sleep before you have to leave. With an easy brush of your shoulders, your form shimmies past the Captain with dull enthusiasm.
You weren’t happy about this, but fine. You’ve been through worse.
As you shuffle down the hallway to the armory, your ears quirk when the footsteps ring in the drums of your ears like a hiking beacon. Already you’d memorized the walking pattern.
The thump-bump, bump-thump, of boots and the clink-clank of metal on metal. Shoving down a growl you hiss out into the air, not turning around.
“Problem, Price?” A gruff humph bounces.
“Negative, Tomb.” His shadow comes to conjoin with yours, large body standing side-by-side. Eyes flash to the side of your face, hidden from all by the cloth—like a bored cat, you continue to pave your way to silence; hoping whatever thought this man had in his head would disappear. “Just curious, see.”
“Curious?” your brow raises, the make of your muscles showing your unease. “Can’t help you with that.”
“No, probably not, eh?” John grunts and reiterates as strange emotion spikes in the lines of his face as he glances along you. “Tomorrow. 1300. Don’t be late.” With nothing more, he halts and pivots, peeling back to leave your side as his sudden absence leaves you devoid of heat.
Confusion breeds in your chest, but your steady legs carry you on until your tension leaves. Under your breath you utter a question as you enter the armory, shuffling your rifle off of your chest. “What the hell was that about?”
—
Price and you stand inside the safehouse with fast hearts and narrowed eyes. Blood was dripping down your hands, the black gloves flooded with gore that sure as hell doesn’t belong to you.
“Fuck,” John growls, guttural reverberations echoing off the walls. With stiff ribs, you go and lightly peel back the fabric of the nearest window to study the street below; looking for any suspicious figures. Frowning, you see nothing and let the curtain fall, eyes wafting to the Captain.
“We either lost them or they have surveillance on the building. Best for you to not leave either way.” The mission had gone sideways—apparently one of the targets had an ID on John as a member of One-Four-One. One thing led to another and resulted in you sticking a knife into some man’s gut to get away when he’d been spotted. You blink at his agitated expression, the black beanie on his head ruffled as he runs a hand over it.
But you don’t say anything else. Peeling off your gloves, you listen to him as a rain of blood splatters the carpet.
“This sets us back—since when does bloody fuckin’ Metin Baydar know who I am?” John’s hands are clenched, jaw so tight you wonder if his molars will crack under the pressure. A smirk twitches your lips at the thought. “Tomb,” you slowly tilt your eyes to him. The man sets his lips and crosses his arms, the brown casual wear in his chest bunching. “I’ll need you to be my eyes on this, yeah? If I leave this position I jeopardize your safety.”
“My safety?” you huff a laugh and push your gloves into your loose pants. “Captain, I don’t need you to worry about my safety.”
He seems to pause for a moment, and with a shake of his head his blue eyes shutter closed. A deep, tight, breath is taken and those tiny lids are forced back as you lock gazes. You send a blank look his way and he nods firmly.
“Keep low.” Is all he grunts, feet standing apart and his stare intense. “Copy?”
A swirl of amusement dances in your gut—you tap the earpiece in your shell with a stained streak of blood on your fingers. John stares, unreadable.
“I’ll leave when the streets cool. Just keep on the line so I can relay my intel, Price.” After a moment of silence, your eyes tighten with intrigue. “How do you wonder Baydar knew your face?” Standing by the window again, you peek out and keep John in view. His form shuffles, and he scoffs before walking beside you. Over your shoulder, he also views the buildings and businesses below. You still at the sensation of his breath on the back of your head, hand twitching over the curtain. It ruffles your hair for a moment before you snap out of it, eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Task Force isn’t exactly known,” you finish your sentence, voice strained.
Clearing his throat, as if realizing how close he’d gotten with only the intention of gazing outside, the man’s form jerks back; taking a step or two away to give you distance. Your far-gone eyes blankly continue to look outside but your chest gains some tension to it. You don’t know why.
This Brit is strange. You frown, watching a cat traverse the concrete far below. Not that I really have much to go off of.
“Haven’t a clue.” John sighs again, one hand going to itch at his chin. “Your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know is that we have to fix this. Now.”
“You should tell Laswell,” you mutter, turning around and walking past him to stand around your packs—all of which hold your gear. Your knife was set into a small sheath inside your shirt, leather wrapped around your waist as you stopped near the coffee table. You pull the lip of your clothes up and grasp at it before peeling the metal out with an inquisitive eye.
If there was any breakage to the tip, you’d be furious.
John watches from across the room, catching glances at your bare skin riddled with scars and burns; unmarred flesh foreign. He feels his breath hitch before you drop your shirt back down and bring the blade into the light.
Holding it parallel, you gaze along the edge and tilt your head, eyelids half-closed.
“Kate?” Price answers you, clearing his throat. “No, it’s better not to create any more shite. She’ll be good off not knowing, yeah?” The brunette’s brow raises in question.
You hum and don’t reply.
The rest of the mission was spent with the two of you conversing over the open line of your comms as you scoured the streets for any sign of the target, feet carrying you over the city as the chill of the late afternoon set in. Presently, you didn’t know how to feel about your situation. Working with others was a strain on your focus—on the walls you’ve built up; John had obviously noticed that you didn’t exactly play well with others. It was plainly stated in your file, after all.
“—attitude, or lack thereof, is a detriment to the structure of any team/unit/platoon that she is placed into under all circumstances. Recommended reserved operations to limit drawbacks.”
Having a pleasant attitude wasn’t your job.
Stalking around the corner, your ears twitch to John’s voice. “Sitrep, Tomb. What’s it looking like out there?”
It was strange, then, that the man over the line was so eager to speak to you. Your sigh hits on deaf ears, and you respond as you carefully walk past civilians making their way home.
“Quiet. No sign.” The silence re-settles and you gradually loosen again. Like a cat, your ears twitch to hear the muttering from the commuters; eyes sliding with watery film across faces.
Baydar owns a restaurant as a front for funding terrorists. Anyone exiting from this direction could be part of it—
“You said you’d never join One-Four-One,” John’s voice makes you shove down a flinch, ripped out of your focus. In your pockets, your hands close into fists, and a deeply annoyed mask fits itself over your expression. “Why’s that, then?”
“What is this?” Your voice goes cold, “interrogation time?”
“With a record like yours, you’d get pick of any Task Force or SOF in country.” The Captain seems to ignore your hiss and jab as his deep voice continues; accent low. You hear the drag of a cigar and the puff of smoke. Internally, you’re thankful for the casual yet attentive acknowledgment of your skills—how the man doesn’t seem in the slightest worried about you. “Why is it that you’re always alone out ‘ere? Couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it, truthfully.” A tobacco-slick chuckle, “Bloody hell, people would kill to get you on a mission like I did, eh? No doubt.”
For a long time, you don’t answer, leaning against the wall across from your target’s restaurant doing recon. Frown tight and face stiff. John’s voice fizzles.
“Ah, fuckin’ forget it Love, just a man’s curiosity speaking for ‘im. I’ll leave you to focus.” Before the line can click, you open your lips—as if the things have a mind of their own.
“People are unpredictable.” The Captain’s breath is gently puffing over the line. He listens and you know he hangs on every word; it was a strange feeling to know that. From under you, your feet shuffle. “They do things that don’t make sense. I don’t like dealing with it.”
A grunt. “Well, can get behind that…” John had a smirk on his lips, you can hear it. “You’d lose your head if you met MacTavish.”
Your focus waning, you blink, getting sucked into this strange interaction with an even stranger man.
“Yeah?” You wonder, head tilting to the side. “One of yours?”
“Hm,” he affirms and the chill of the night caresses your skin. John chuckles. “Sergeant. Bloody good shot, but can get into trouble faster than his fucking gun can fire.”
Your mouth quirks. “Sounds horrible.”
“Makes my job a living hell,” John admits and you shock yourself by listening. “But no one better to keep by my six…You’d ease up to him.”
“I’m not joining, Price,” Your voice mutters out like how a dragonfly snaps its translucent wings on still air. “This is it.”
In the safehouse, John hums under his breath, staring out the window at the blinking lights of the city as you watch the restaurant with far-off thoughts. A smile twitches his lips. For some reason there was something about you he wanted to figure out—something to unravel. You were like Ghost sometimes, but more… fascinating. Darker.
And you knew how to get the job done better than anyone.
John wanted you on his Task Force, your expertise, and the only way to get that was to take you apart like a puzzle of razor blades. Study you. Learn you as the edges cut up his flesh. The Captain had no idea what picture you’d make when everything was in its proper place, but he’d be willing to try with the very tenacity that had gotten him this far.
But there was something else there, too. Some kind of tightness in his chest when you looked at him; he'd gotten it when he’d seen you on the tarmac back not so long ago like some schoolboy. Those blank eyes of yours…why did he want them to light up?
Why did he want to see your laugh?
John wasn’t immature enough to not know his own feelings or attractions, but this was an entire section of its own. Blinking, the man grunts to himself and smirks. “Well, better make it last, then.”
You feel your eyelids carefully pull in surprise.
“I…” Your voice starts but dies off, swallowing saliva down as your mouth clacks shut with a connection of teeth. Closing your eyes, you steady your heart, which had suddenly created a concerning skip in its beats.
John places the cigar back to his lips and takes a long drag, leaning out of the window to watch the smoke disappear into the twinkling lights. Lips peeling his beard hairs back.
—
As it turned out, the mission in Turkey wasn’t the only time you’d have to deal with John Price, and it certainly wasn’t the last time you’d see his face in front of yours. One mission turned into two—two into three and so on. You hadn’t exactly wanted it, but you found you couldn’t turn him down either.
At whichever base you were stationed at, all of a sudden he’d just show up; standing on the tarmac with his arms crossed and that casual set to his shoulders. The first time you’d seen him after Turkey, you had half convinced yourself he was a mirage. And then he’d smirk at you and tilt his head and you’d have no control over your words.
It was pathetic…disgusting…it was…it was…
You shake yourself back to the present when a bullet whizzes past your head, a sharp call from across the utter warzone you’d found yourself in the middle of.
“Tomb, what in the hell’s wrong with you?!” John’s voice is harsh, and you lock onto it. “Get your gun up!”
You sigh, unperturbed. Peaking past the large crate you use as cover, your eyes glare at the enemy soldiers across the dock, fixing your finger’s position over your M4A1. The small unit you’d been dragged into by John was mostly dead—only four of you remaining from the ten.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
Jerking back, a splintering of wood explodes in front of you as the next fast piece of metal nearly takes your nose off. With a grit of your teeth, you flick your safety off and swivel your shoulders.
Popping from the top of the crate, your sharp eyes lock onto the first visible body before you press your finger to the trigger with practiced ease as the word shrieks all around you. Recoil is eaten into the padded kevlar of the junction of your shoulder and arm.
When you dart back, the body has yet to hit the ground.
“There she is!” John calls, and you look forward with a steady stare as the brunette laughs from behind his own crate a few feet away. “Keep your head in the game, Tomb.”
You frown, normal facemask back over your chin hiding it. While you loathe to admit it, John had grown on you in these…what was it…? Months? Yes, that seemed about right.
Months of joint missions. You could hardly believe that he’d dragged you out like this.
“Tell the others to flank,” Your voice whisps over the line like smoke, “Left side—there’s a gap in the crates.”
John looks you in the eyes and blinks, eyelids twitching. With his beard covered in gunpowder, the man looks across the open space between the gunbattle to the left. Sure enough, right before he’s forced to snap back down to cover, the Captain spies a very well-hidden gap in the defenses.
He smiles viciously like a dog, and barks a laugh to you, nodding, “Good eye! Boys,” the two don’t pause their assault but call their questioning voices over the line. You don’t listen, occupied with giving off bursts of gunfire and trying to avoid the eyes of your fellow dead soldiers. Your lungs are compressed inside of your ribcage like prisoners. “Flank left. We’ll cover you!”
“Sir!” Steadying your breath, you avoid John’s confused glances and scoff to yourself, resituating your clammy hands.
When all’s said and done the four of you are the only ones left. Letting your gun sit on your chest you use the body as an armrest, allowing it to hang off the side from the trigger-guard. Your fingers twitch, and as John speaks to the two men, you stare silently at the gushing bodies of your fellows like phantoms spring from their chests.
John’s voice slows when he sees you apart from them, glancing at the soldiers at your feet before ordering the remaining men to get to the evac point. They try to argue everyone should be going together, and on all accounts, they’re completely right, but John won’t hear it.
“Go—that’s an order.” Reluctantly, the two glance at each other and speed off.
You jolt at a call of your name, head turning to face stormy blue as they gaze at you with concern. Stopping a few feet away, John stands still and folds his arms, face going rigid with concern as he glances you over for wounds.
His head slightly leans in, chin down.
“...You alright?” Hand flinching, you clear your throat.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, fixing the position of your feet and forcing away the images of dead bodies and blank eyes.
You’d seen scores of men dead before—friend and foe—but you had thought you’d never have to see more of your own fall. It had been a long time since you’d felt the distant lull of numb horror in the back of your brain; like some ocean wave that drowns you under every time it comes back. It always comes back.
John narrows his eyes and frowns deeply, glancing around and hiding the slight way his right arm sags.
“Tomb?” He says it so lowly that you really have to focus, ears straining. That gravel was back, and you found yourself latching onto it. “Eh, you just focus on me, yeah? I’m right ‘ere.”
“I know,” you snap, eyes shuttering away only to find more vacant stares. You flinch back and look up into the sky; a sudden burn in your brain that you need to quell.
The man grows even more concerned with you, taking a step forward and clenching his jaw. He studies you, your shaking tension and the clench and loosening of your fists—attention always on you but roving to the dead men all around. Something clicks with a violent inhale.
John moves to you without a word and grasps you around the shoulders quickly. You gasp at that, immediate reaction to shove away, but only gape at the warmth that he brings you instead—the steady presence and chest to lean on. As the Brit drags you, you focus instead on calming your breathing.
The Captain lightly shimmies down your facemask and you suck down tight air as you go limp into his side.
“C’mon, Tomb. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s muttering to you, disguising his pained grunts in favor of taking care of you.
That strange affection for you had grown in your time together…not that he’d said anything. It was more proper of him to watch out from a distance, not sure of your own feelings or the probability of you gazing back at him with the same amount of concealed longing. Many a night he’d sat on his bed and wondered. Wondered how an animal so extraordinary and remarkable took the form of a woman with a black sphinx patch and sharp eyes.
John had heard you laugh once through your expeditions together—sniping in Greenland. Once had been enough; if he never heard it again, he could still recall the pitch and frequency to the yawning of his soul. He didn’t need to hear it again.
It was locked into the fabric that made up your skin and speech, and every time he stared at you he could find it in your eyes.
The Captain puts you down near a crate around the corner, letting you lean into it as he turns and captures your neck from either side. You shake under him, blurry vision stuck to his dog tags as they wink against his chest.
“Tomb,” John says again, and with a lick of your chapped lips, you carefully turn your head up. Blue eyes crease worriedly. The thumbs on the sides of your neck caress up and down your rapid pulse steadily; calluses creating stimuli. A small smile meets you. “There we are, atta girl. Focus.”
Tears dribble down your cheeks, and you flatten your lips, whispering out brokenly, “I said I don’t like teams.”
John’s heart breaks.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” his hand captures the back of your head and you’re brought into a deep and firm embrace—gear pinching and prodding but neither of you care.
When was the last time you’d been held like this? The feeling makes your mouth quiver, your face stuck into the junction of the Brit’s neck and shoulder.
“John…” You whimper out and his arms around you only tighten—his tense nose shoved into your scalp as his eyes closed tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, heart racing, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
You don’t know long he holds you there, the air filled with blood and death but just so soundly resting atop his vest and limp to his gentle swaying. The tears dry at some point, they always have to. Sniffling, your burning face takes in the scent of beard oil and gunpowder and you find yourself calmed by it.
Calmed by John.
The man holding you waits a moment more before he slightly leans back, staring down at you intently; nervously. You lick at the tears drying into the line of your mouth to taste the saltiness on your tongue as fingers grasp at your chin.
Angled up, your face is on full display.
John sighs and the drowned keratin of your lashes flutters, embarrassment flooding you. His eyes crease before his hands come up to take away your sorrows with a soft brush of his digits. The man clears his throat tinily, voice deep with emotion.
“Better?” Your eyes dip away from his, knowing you’d been staring.
“I…” Glancing over his right shoulder absentmindedly, you only get a word off before you see a fountain of red. Blinking away the last of your tears, John’s finger on your cheek stops moving as you freeze—stiff to the touch.
His panic spikes again.
“What’s going on—”
“When did you get hit?” Your voice is hard and laced with something you can’t name. Shaving back from John you frantically grab at his arm. In an instant, the Captain is whirled around and shoved back into the crate; he grunts loudly, eyes snapping wide.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He grumbles, but flinches when you peel at the bloodied layers of his compression shirt. John smirks, letting your touch rove him as your nose scrunches. He represses a shiver at the bite of your nails, whispering out, “If you wanted to throw me ‘round, Love…all you had to do was ask.”
You blink rapidly and turn your fast gaze to his eyes as you stutter, fingers covered in blood and holding apart the fabric of his outfit to show a bullet graze to his pale upper bicep. John’s cheeky smirk grows and against all the pain and the dark corners, you feel a bubbling in your gut.
A small chuckle snakes out, like twinkling bells.
“Shut up,” your smile leaves him breathless, smirk falling to a small open-mouthed screen of obvious admiration. A hum marks the back of his throat, eyebrows loosely curving upon his forehead.
You look over and find him like this—his gaze trapping you like his arms had. Like music, it takes you into its melody. Staring, your smile, gradually too, leaks out.
“What are you doing?” Your question is breathy. "What is your fascination with me?" John’s eyes stick with you, the shining, shimmering, blue. There are tempests held there and if this man was anything, he was a storm of intentions and promises.
“Looking,” John answers lowly. "Just looking."
You take down a breath, “At what, John?”
He chuckles at you, face close and pleasant, “Y’know, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, Love.”
Blindly you wonder how the world can still turn while you both stand here—was it, even? How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave?
How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand.
It’s all here, and then it’s gone. Nothing can truly be as it was in the past, and therein lies the small, glorious, deaths. Both a blessing and a curse.
Your lips press deeply into one another and the blood of old wounds dries.
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#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#cod mw22#call of duty#mw2#mw2 2022#call of duty mw2#x female reader#john price fic#john price#captain john price#captain price#cod mwii#john price x you#john price x reader#captain johnathan price#cod fanfic#cod price#cod john price#cod x female reader#captain price x female reader#x fem!reader#mw2 fanfic#mw2 x reader#modern warfare x you#modern warfare x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you
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je vais t'aimer
requested: yes/no
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (one shot)
warnings: slow burn smut (the act itself is about two pages long, it's also my first!!), my bad english (and possibly bad writing), language, established bf/gf relationship, some fluff of charles and the reader making music together and being domestic towards the end, lots of text in between the lyrics - please imagine yourself singing in one go, reader is described to have brunette hair and blue eyes, mentions of death and dying, oral (fem and male receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!) but reader is said to be on the pill, cock warming if you squint, also slight breeding kink towards the end, please comment if you find anything else and i'll add it to the list
word count: 4.846 words (with lyrics), 4.352 words (without lyrics)
a/n: hello guys 🥰 finally it's here - my first fic! i truly can't believe that i wrote an almost seven page long one shot but here we are. 🤩 the inspiration for the fic was "je vais t'aimer" by louane from the movie "la famille bélier" (the original was sung by michel sardou) - go and give the song a listen if you can :) i've proofread the text but i'm sure there will be a few mistakes, especially when it comes to grammar and commas, since english is not my first language. also, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed. 😅 feel free to let me know what you think as feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome 🙏 if you can find the symbolism used in this, i'll give you a cookie 🍪 in addition to that there's a hint to one of my favorite shows - leave a comment if you know what it is 😉 (italics = lyrics, brackets = translations) - here we go, i hope you enjoy this :) | *"Tonnerre de Dieu" is an idiom meaning something like "Bloody hell!"
🔎 directions | 🔎 masterlist
The cool summer breeze coming through the window – which was left open after last night’s activities – softly grazed her skin. The warm sunrays that rested upon her eyelids awakened her slowly. It was an early Sunday morning in the Monégasque summer – almost too early for her liking – so she blinked a few times but ultimately decided to close her eyes again, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep. Trying to escape the rising sun she turned towards where she thought her lover would be laying, hoping to snuggle up to him while enjoying the last day of their free weekend. But when she reached out her warm, delicate hands, all she could feel were empty sheets that had started to become cold already, indicating that her boyfriend had been out of their shared bed for a while now. So much for staying in bed.
Slowly Y/N sat up, letting out a yawn while stretching her arms above her head. By doing so, her own sheets slipped down her body, uncovering her very naked breasts. She sighed to herself, memories of the previous night came flashing back shortly, making her miss the brunette boy even more. Her heart yearned for him, thinking about the love and intimacy they shared. So the young woman made it her mission to find her other half. She swung her legs over the edge of their shared bed – her warm feet meeting the cold floor – and walked into her adjacent closet, fishing a fresh pair of panties out of the drawer. Forgoing putting on any more clothes, she went back into the bedroom and picked up the shirt her boyfriend wore yesterday and slipped it on. She tried to open the door as silent as possible, already hearing the faint sounds of a piano, and went to the top step of the staircase. From there the young woman could see her boyfriends bare back as he played the keys with his delicate fingers. Y/N noticed how the muscles of his back, moved with the rhythm he created, absolutely mesmerizing her. She couldn’t believe how such a beautiful man was truly hers and decided to watch him a little longer before making her way downstairs with the softest steps she could possibly muster as to not make him aware of her presence.
Charles Leclerc was up early. He didn’t understand why, as it was his weekend off and he had stayed up late the night before – he should be exhausted. Looking to his left, he saw his girlfriend and smiled at her sleeping form. His heart tugged at it’s strings at how filled it was with love for Y/N. His mind remembering the events of the night before. The look in her eyes gave her own love for him away, as he deeply stared into them while making sweet love to her. Their foreheads stuck together as they exchaged words of affection, some more dirty than others. For a second the young racing driver thought about waking the woman beside him up to take care of his now throbbing member but ultimately decided to not disturb her peaceful slumber. The brunette leaned over and gave his girlfriend a soft kiss on the forehead before he slowly, as careful as possible, sat up in bed and let out a yawn. He started to look for his boxers that should have been left somewhere in the room. When the Monégasque had found them he stood up and tip toed to the piece of clothing, which was laying by the bed post, and put it on. Before Charles left the room, he turned around once more and took one last look at the sleeping woman in their shared bed – half smiling at the sight – and made his way downstairs to work on his music.
Long arms snaked around his torso and a kiss was pressed to his neck. „Good morning, mon amour,“ his girlfriend whispered sweetly in his ear. If he didn’t know what music sounded like, he’d probably say this might have been it – the angelic voice of the woman he loved. Charles body automatically leaned back in her arms and he rested his head on her shoulder. „Morning, mon cœur.“ he smirked at her, squinting his eyes while he looked at her. She kissed his stubbly cheek, her left arm moved to lay over his exposed chest: „Why are you awake already? I’ve missed you.“ The older man shook his head slightly and he was able to smell his girlfriends hair: „Couldn’t sleep anymore I guess.“ Y/N hummed in response. „So you decided to leave me all alone and replaced me with your piano?“ She mumbled in her lovers neck and left a hickey. Charles hissed. „You found me after all, didn’t you? How about you join me?“ He slid to the left and patted the now free space on the bench. The woman behind him grinned and wrapped her fragile fingers around his firm chin, turning his head to look up at her. Their eyes met, completely enamoured with one another. Slowly both started to lean in until their lips finally touched for their first official good morning kiss on this early Sunday morning. The drivers hand moved to lay on her neck, deepening the kiss as both of them let out a sigh. He took it as his opportunity to slip his tongue between his girlfriends parted lips, making out with her some more, until she pushed him back slightly by his chin. „I thought you had asked if I wanted to join you?“ Y/N smirked at Charles and got the biggest smile out in response, showing off his beautiful teeth. „That I did!“ His opposite giggled and gave him on last kiss on the cheek.
She moved away from him and sat on the bench to his right hand side. Turning his head to look at her, he asked her: „Would you like to sing for me?“, knowing she had the most beautiful singing voice in the world (but don’t tell George he said that, he’d fight him for his life trying to defend Lewis). Her head now turned to look at him too: „I’d love that. Can I make a wish.“ Charles heart skipped a beat at her question and he stared at her as if she hung the moon, the sun and all of his stars. „You don’t even have to ask, you know I’d fulfill you all your wishes without a second thought.“ The young womans eyes got teary hearing those words from her lover of two years, knowing he loved her as much as she loved him. „Je vais t’aimer, mon beau.“ Her boyfriends wrinkled as his lips spread out into a smile: „Toi aussi, ma belle.“ „No, idiot, the song from ‚La famille Bélier‘.“ She laughed loudly, infecting the other Monégasque with it’s brightness and who soon joined her, shaking his head. „I knew that of course.“ Smirking, Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing full well he didn’t. Charles eyed her from the side and cleared his throat while cracking his knuckles, before his warm fingers touched the cold piano tiles again to form the opening notes oft he 1976 tune.
À faire pâlir tous les Marquis de Sade (To make all the Marquis de Sade pale)
À faire rougir les putains de la rade (To make the whores blush in the harbor)
À faire crier grâce à tous les échos (To be shouted through all the echoes)
À faire trembler les murs de Jéricho (To shake the walls of Jericho)
Je vais t′aimer (I will love you)
Y/N tried not to look at Charles while singing the all too familiar song but she couldn’t help it. He was just so gorgeous. The way his fingers moved across the tiles amazed her, watching his forearms flex while doing so. A simple yet so effective move, which – in a dangerous mix with the obscene lyrics coming out of her mouth - went straight down to her core.
À faire flamber des enfers dans tes yeux (To make hell blaze in your eyes)
À faire jurer tous les tonnerres de Dieu (To make all the thunders of God swear*)
À faire dresser tes seins et tous les Saints (To have your breasts and all the saints raise)
À faire prier et supplier nos mains, je vais t'aimer (To make us pray and beg our hands I will love you)
His cheeks reddened hearing her sing those lewd words which were meant to be for him only at this very moment. Her hand touched his biceps, moving up and down, and it sent cold shivers down his back straight to his dick. He loved sharing such intimate moments with her, just the two of them – sometimes they watched a movie, other times, like today, they made some music together – but as soon as her long fingers moved across his naked skin, he always knew he was gone for and there was only one way this would end. And she knew it too.
Je vais t′aimer comme on ne t'a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been before)
Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)
Je vais t′aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)
Je vais t'aimer comme personne n′a osé t'aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)
Je vais t′aimer comme j'aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)
Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)
The young woman put her head on her boyfriends shoulder while singing, as she moved the hand – which was wrapped around his biceps – to the veins on his forearm and finally landing on his right thigh. Slowly she caressed the exposed skin, making the bulge in his underwear grow. The air between the two lovers became thicker with sexual tension second by second. Charles just really wanted to hear her sweet voice sing but now he was about to hear even better sounds coming out of her mouth and her teasing showed just how close she was to giving him herself all over again. And he loved every bit of it.
À faire vieillir, à faire blanchir la nuit (To age, to whiten the night)
À faire brûler la lumière jusqu'au jour (Burning the light until the day)
À la passion et jusqu′à la folie (To passion and to the point of madness)
Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer d′amour (I will love you, I will love you with love)
À faire cerner, à faire fermer nos yeux (To be identified, to close our eyes)
À faire souffrir, à faire mourir nos corps (To make us suffer, to kill our bodies)
À faire voler nos âmes aux septièmes cieux (To make our bodies fly into seventh heaven)
À se croire morts et faire l'amour encore, je vais t′aimer (To think you’re dead and make love again, I’m going to love you)
The words sung perfectly described the love they shared for one another. They were each other light in the darkness of this world, especially Y/N for Charles. She was his anchor and saving grace whenever he had a bad race and she was there for him through it all – the ups and downs of racing ever since they had been kids, the deaths of his father and Jules, the travelling, the distance, the winning, the losing and everything in between. Everytime they had sex it felt like the very first time. And everytime they finished it felt like they had died and gone to heaven. He was excited to feel this way again and he knew she felt the same way. Their passion for one another almost exceeding the point of madness where they couldn’t go long without seeing, touching and talking to each other and not turning crazy about it. Charles and Y/N burned for each other- their love a blazing flame that never seemed to die – they were the bane of each others existence and the objects of all their desires and wildest dreams. For the last chorus the young woman let all of those feelings out and every word was meant only for her Monégasque lovers ears – the one man she ever wanted to spend her forever and beyond with.
Je vais t'aimer comme on ne t′a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been loved)
Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)
Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)
Je vais t′aimer comme personne n'a osé t′aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)
Je vais t'aimer comme j′aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)
Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)
Charles fingers lingered on the piano, finishing the final note. They stayed silent for a little longer, letting the past few minutes catch up to them, the only sound being heard were their breaths that were in sync with each other – mirroring the rapid beating of their hearts. The woman moved her right hand from her boyfriends thigh and placed it upon his chest. „I love you, mon amour, thank you for letting me share this moment with you,“ she whispered in his ear and left a kiss right below it. The racing driver next to her turned slightly and put his hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing the warm skin. „Anytime again, ma belle.“ His dimples showed due to the soft smile that made it’s way to his face. And also his girlfriend couldn’t help but reach out for him, letting her hand linger on the side of his neck. The two of them knew what was about to happen, so Charles put his arm around Y/Ns waist, pulling her even closer (if that was possible) and their lips radiated towards each other, as if they were two magnets, finally reuniting in a breathtaking kiss.
When they broke apart, Y/N took the initiative and took her sweet time kissing down his body, leaving a few hickeys on the way – from his cheek, to his neck and his abs, until she ended up on her knees in front of the piano, facing Charles‘ crotch. Looking down on his girlfriend, he moaned her name: „Touches moi, s’il te plaît…“ Smirking at that, Y/N let her hands glid up his thigh. „Of course, baby boy, let me take care of you.“ Slowly she caressed his bulge while maintaining eye contact before dropping her head to leave some more kisses on his thighs. Then she moved her hand into his shorts and boxers to free his semi-hard dick. Charles shuddered when her cold fingers touched his warm dick and he bit his lip to keep in the moan he so badly wanted to let out. „Don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear you. Show me how good I can make you feel.“ The girl encouraged him while stroking his hardening length. „Mon dieu…“, Charles whispered under his breath and threw his head back. At that she smirked and stuck out her tongue in order to lick a long stripe up the underside of her boyfriends dick, sucking on his tip where she left another kiss. The brunette driver locked eyes with his girlfriend who just swallowed his precum and continued to watch her as her mouth wrapped around his length again and went further and further to take him in fully. „Oh.“ His moan spurred her on and she started bobbing her head up and down, as her hand went to massage his balls. Charles so desperately wanted to keep focused on the woman in front of him but he ultimately lost control and fisted his hand in her hair, in order to form a makeshift ponytail and started pushing her head down on his dick harder. „Chérie - I’m gonna…“ His breathy voice got cut off by a groan he couldn’t hold back. As if his girlfriend could sense it, she had moaned on his dick and stroked his thick thighs, silently telling him to come in her mouth. A few seconds later Y/N heard Charles let out an especially loud moan and felt his sweet cum shoot down her throat. The young woman released his dick from her luscious lips with a loud „popp“ and opened her mouth to show Charles that she had swallowed it all. With hazy eyes he smirked down at his girlfriend and wrapped his hand around her chin, his thumb lightly stroking her cheek. „Good girl.“ He leaned down to leave a kiss on her forehead, then helped her stand on her two feet again. „Let me return the favor, amour.“
Charles stood up and deeply stared into his girlfriends eyes while slowly taking steps forward, backing her up into the piano. „Cha…“ Y/Ns voice was desperate and she closed her eyes as he reached out his hands. She waited for his touch, which never came. He closed the lid of the piano, then returned his attention to the smaller woman, his eyes so full of lust for her. His head bent down and he feverishly kissed her which she easily returned, their tongues exploring each others mouths, as if it was the first time they made out. The racing driver put his hands on her butt and softly kneaded the skin there, before leaving a slap on her right ass cheek, making her gasp loudly. „Jump.“ He said with his signature wink. Y/N did as she was told and wrapped her legs around his torso, as he sat her on top of the piano. „You look so good in my shirt. Much better than I ever did, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend giggled and his hands glid along her curves taking them all in. Charles kneeled down until his eyes were lined up with her ankles. He left the lightest kisses up her legs, alternating between the left and right one, while moving his hands up their sides. When his eyes were on the same level as her core he pulled her crotch closer to his face by her hips. „Ahh!“ A squeal left the girls lips as Charles took her by suprise. The latter laughed slighty. „Excuse-moi, Chérie.“ All was forgotten though when he kissed her cunt through her panties before he pulled them down. The excitement rose in his chest and he licked his lips, whereas his girlfriend felt a certain anticipation, wating for him to continue. Moving his face closer to her already dripping core he left a longing kiss on her clit, as his right hand came up to assist him – one of his fingers went in between her folds collecting her juices. „So wet for me already, bébé.“ He then wrapped his lips around his own finger, tasting her. „And so sweet.“ Y/N was in a state of pure bliss already, humming approvingly. „All for you, ma vie.“ Charles nodded. „Yes, all mine.“ The Monégasque started sucking on her clit again, acting as if his life essence is made up of the sweet sounds that escaped her throat. One of his fingers finally entered her, moving in and out in a steady rhythm that coordinated with the way his tongue moved along her clit. It felt as though she was his instrument: His fingers moved delicately inside of her, playing out a tune of moans mixing with the breathy calles of her name, truly showing his artistic skills aside from the piano. Two of his fingers were inside of her now, preparing the young woman for later, as he alternated between scissoring her hole and stroking her g-spot.
As Y/N felt her orgasm approach, her hands flew to her boyfriends fluffy hair, pulling on the loose curls. „Charlie, ne t’arrête pas!“ She moaned, feeling the tight knot in her lower stomach starting to loosen up. Spurred on by the soft massaging of her hands he moaned onto her clit. That was the last note missing in their steamy melody pulling the girl over the edge as she came with a loud scream of his name, squirting her juices into his mouth. He lapped at her lower lips, trying to collect all the juices he could get, before rising from his kneeling position. Her uneven breaths started to calm down again as she noticed the state of his chin through half-lidded eyes and let out a shaky laugh. „I’m so sorry, mon Chéri.“ Charles slightly leaned over her, moving his hand to her back, as he wrapped her right leg around his waist to pick her up and get her into a standing position in between him and the piano again. „No need to be sorry, mon ange. I enjoyed every second of it.“ At the second sentence his voice lowered an octave, accentuating every word into her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe moving down her neck, leaving a small hickey there. „Should we move this to the sofa for the big climax of our wonderful duet?“ He asked into her neck, knowing the couch was closer. „Yes, please.“ She breathed out, her head still thrown to the side, letting Charles have his access to her skin.
He took her hand in his and lead her to the other part of their living room. There, she regained some control when he turned around in order to kiss her, and she put her hand on his chest instead, pushing him back into the soft pillows. Charles smirked as he was under her spell once more. He patted his thighs and his girlfriend smiled, placing herself in her favorite seat, facing him. Once more the two lovers found themselves lost in each others eyes, before slowly leaning in, their lips meeting in a loving kiss, much softer than the ones before. Y/N moved her hands along his abs once more, moving over his bare chest to his toned shoulders. His own hands found their way to her wast, moving towards the hem of her – no, his – shirt, slowly lifting it above her head and throwing it somewhere behind him. The sudden cold air made her nipples harden, sending a shiver down her back. Charles smiled up at her – taking in all of her naked glory – and licked his lips in anticipation. His right hand moved to her breast, his lips latched around the other. „Ohh, Char…“ The young woman moaned and watched him suck on her tits. The fingers of his right hand fumbled with the small bud before he went to switch sides. Wanting to feel more of him, Y/N rubbed her body along his legs. Smirking, he removed himself from her boobs. „So impatient, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend laughed. „I mean, can you blame me? Everything about you turns me on immensly. Mon dieu, je t’aime tellement.“ The heat of her bare core meeting the cold skin of his thigh – he had already forgotten that her panties still layed somewhere by his piano – reminding him about the truthfulness of her statement. „Je t’aime aussi, mon cœur.“ The two stared lovingly at each other once more before the woman moved her hands down to the waistband of her boyfriends boxers – the only article of clothing left to separate their most intimate parts – and she couldn’t stand his advantage at all. „Take them off, baby.“ He smirked and tapped his hands on his girlfriends waist to signal her that she would have to get off him first. Y/N lifted her butt so that he could pull the garment down, letting them hang by his knees.
With his underwear out of the way, the woman above him slowly sunk down on his dick, stabilizing herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. At the feeling of Charles length entering her wet hole, they both let out long moans. „Putain!“ Y/N placed one of her hands on his cheek, making him look into her eyes – then she started to move. Slowly she lifted herself off him and sunk back down. The two lovers found a steady rhythm, their bodies creating a sweet melody once more. Charles hands wandered to his girlfriends ass, leaving a slap there before he kneaded the soft skin, soothing it in the process. His love let out a yelp and started to bounce on top of him faster. Her hands now rested on his waist, as she let her head fall to his neck, making her body lean on his. The new angle made both of them feel the movements more intensly – their breathy moans and husky groans filling the already sinful aria of skin slapping on skin to it’s full extent. „Chérie…“ the driver moaned into her ear, kissing his girlfriends shoulder. „Regarde-moi.“ Y/N lifted her head look at her boyfriend, who moved on of his hands to the back of her head, pulling her closer and locking their lips in a desperate and messy kiss. As they pulled away for air, both could feel their orgasms approaching. With his hand, Charles kept the woman close to him, the sweat on their foreheads mixing. „I’m so close.“ She deeply stared into his eyes, nodding frantically. „Moi aussi, Char.“ Then he steard to trust his hips up into hers, supporting her sloppier movements. Suddenly all the different components became too much for her to handle – from his hands on her body, his dick filling her wet core, to their erratic breaths conjoining in lazy, open-mouthed kisses - her body overstimulating as it reached it’s climax. The relieving wave washed over her and she came with a loud, high-pitched scream of her boyfriends name. Her walls clenched around his dick, sending Charles over the edge too, who let out a deep growl followed by a hitched cry of her nickname. The driver still held her body close as she collapsed on top of him and he started stroking her back in order to calm her down.
It felt like minutes before either of them moved again – the Monégasque just enjoying the feeling of her naked breasts on his skin, his partner listening to the sound of his beating heart. Charles even thought about taking her again, but that’s a thing that could wait until later. Right now, all he wanted to do was staying right here with her in his arms. But his girlfriend had other plans, as she was the first to sit up again. At the feeling of Charles dick still inside her both let out a groan, before laughing. „Merde, I almost forgot about that.“ Y/Ns hands caressed his cheeks as she dipped her head to leave a short but sweet kiss on his lips before she tried to lift herself off his length. She hissed at the feeling of the cold air of the living room hitting her warm entrance and noticed the way Charles cum dripped out of her hole. „Mmh, I love seeing that.“ The man in question stood up and pulled up his boxers before he stepped closer to his still very naked girlfriend again and held her close. „Can’t wait for when you don’t take the pill anymore. Gonna fill you up all nicely until you’re pregnant with our child, mon amour.“ He whispered seductively in her ear. The woman tried hard to keep her composure at his words, but the goosebumps on her skin gave her away. She wanted to have a child with him, as much as he wanted it, but only after they had gotten married. Leaving a last kiss on his lips before going off to search the shirt she was wearing earlier, she switched the topic while looking around the room with Charles following her around. „I’m starving, how about breakfast?“ Y/N smiled softly at Charles before putting on the piece of clothing, having found it laying behind the couch. „Oh yeah, let me help!“ The driver beamed as his girlfriend passed by the piano, picking up her panties, turning around afterwards to face her boyfriend – laughing at him. „Surely, ma vie, I’ll let you cut some veggies but that’s it, idiot.“ Charles jokingly rolled his eyes. „I’ll do anything, as long as it’s with you.“ She blushed at his words, softly hitting his chest with a wink. „Sweet.“ The two of them pulled back the curtains and opened the windows on the first floor of the apartment in order to let some fresh air in, before going to the kitchen to fix their brunch.
The two lovers spent the rest of their day cuddling on the couch, watching some movies and just enjoying each others company before ordering some takeout in the evening.
disclaimer: all work posted on here with this disclaimer was written by me. i do not consent this work to be published or translated on other sites than my own (@pastryleclerc on tumblr or wattpad). picture credits to their rightful owners
copyright: ©️ 2023 pastryleclerc on tumblr, all rights reserved
#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagine#cl16 x reader#cl16 x y/n#cl16 x you#cl16 smut#cl16 one shot#cl16 imagine#f1#formula 1#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 smut#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 smut
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Pride & Prejudice AUs
You Look Like A Movie, You Sound Like A Song 2k @jonsastan
She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.
A Certain Step Toward Falling in Love 2k by @comma-splice
Jon Snow returns North after departing abruptly one year ago.
The Bennet Sisters - a P&P AU comic by @melinaillustrations
P&P Gifset by @sardoniyx, P&P Gifset by @dcbicki, P&P Gifset by deactivated
Persuasion AUs
Who Loves Longest, Who loves Best 1k by @ladysaruka
After refusing him years ago, Sansa sees her cousin once again.
Persuasion edits one, two , three by @glueck
Mansfield Park AUs
Half Agony, Half Hope 10k, incomplete by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth
After the death of his disgraced mother, Jon Snow is taken in by his uncle's family, the Starks of Winterfell. He grows up alongside his cousins, including the beautiful and kind-hearted Sansa, but knowing he can never truly be their equal, he fears he has little choice but to leave the place he's come to call home. corresponding moodboard
Catch Me If You Can 34k (P&P and Emma inspired too) by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband
Set in the countryside of Regency England, Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark for as long as he can remember. He wants her as his wife, but Sansa is not sure she wants to be a wife at all, and she knows she doesn’t want to marry the pragmatic and boring Jon. She’d rather help Theon Greyjoy come out of his shell and play matchmaker. But then Jaime Lannister comes to town and Jon finds he has some serious competition for Sansa…
Moments Like This (So Few and Far Between) 3k by @lydiamartenism
Mama and Papa left the house to go pick up Jon, the son of her father’s oldest friend. Three weeks ago, the phone rang and their parent’s announced that Jon would be coming to live with them since his mother passed away and had no one else to take care of him.
Northanger Abbey AUs
The Lady in White 7k by @kissed-by-circe
Dragonstone Manor had looked like it had woken only a few days earlier, after a slumber of several years, if not decades, and Sansa had felt like the heroine of a gothic novel, a mysterious, naive girl with a dark past or a dark secret, arriving at the opening scene of the most dramatic story of all times. Or Sansa as Katherine Morland in a Jane Eyre Setting.
Sense & Sensibility AUs
In Such Jocund Company 2k @maybetwice
It would be no matter at all for Captain Snow to return to the north after seven months’ absence, had Sansa’s heart not changed entirely in that time. A remix of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility.
Emma & Clueless AUs
if i loved you less 2k by @ladystarks
Her father has, often and fondly, told Sansa that she and Mr. Snow bite at each other like wolves, but he hardly understood that their verbal sparring was as exhilarating as a sport well done, or a match coming together under Sansa’s skilled hands. corresponding artwork
Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts 15k by @imagineagreatadventure
Sansa Stark, handsome, clever, rich, hopes to establish herself as her town's foremost matchmaker. After seeing her governess Miss Shae married to the rich and clever Mr. Tyrion Lannister, she feels as though she deserves that title. Her dear friend and cousin, Jon Targaryen, heartily disagrees and is quite proven right when Sansa sets her sights on marrying off her newest and dearest friend Jeyne Poole to the vicar Mr. Baelish.
A Baldwin and a Betty 2k
Jon drives to the Valley to give Sansa a ride home.
Emma AU art by @dcvahkiin and Clueless art by wolvesofspring
Emma Gifset by @dcbicki
General Regency AUs
No Notion of Loving by Halves 2k @darkmagyk
The Stark cousin, Jon, goes home to discuss matters concerning the entail on Winterfell. In which Jon is a really good guy, and I flagrantly disregard how entails actually work.
Manners and Misunderstandings 114k, WIP by @x-winging-it
The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls. Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage. When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.
You Could Draw Me to the Gallows 2k by @azulaahai
After having eloped from home with and subsequently been abandoned by wealthy heir Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark refuses to come home. Having caused a scandal that is sure to prevent her from ever marrying, she is adamant not to bring further shame to the family name by returning to Winterfell. Until, that is, a visitor comes to her - Jon Snow, an old family friend, determined to bring Sansa with him back north. He has a solution to offer her - a proposal with the potential to change both of their lives.
A Perilous Dance Indeed & fiercely, tenderly and eternally 27k by @amymel86
He should either look away or interrupt this improper little meeting, he knows. For some unfathomable reason, he does neither. The two look far too intimate for Jon’s liking, although he feels he should have come to expect it to be so. A romantic like Sansa – however proper she is – would simply adore overt flirtations and a secret tête-à-tête. Even from where he stands, Jon can see the way in which she has stars set in her eyes like precious cut stones. He only hopes the man for whom they shine is deserving of it. *** Cousin Jon is to inherit Winterfell Manor and its estate after the untimely death of his uncle leaves a widow and two daughters. Sansa is expectant of an imminent proposal from her dear beau, Harrold Hardyng and everything will be absolutely, stunningly, utterly fine.
Waiting for Your Slippered Feet 49k by @wintry-ritu
Lady Sansa Stark has always looked forward to her come-out season in London, the balls, the rides in Hyde Park, evenings at Vauxhall, the romance and wonder of it all. Never had she imagined that it would happen like this, with her parents gone and her younger siblings underfoot. Now, all Sansa wants is for it all to be over quickly so she can get back to Winterfell. She needs a kind, amiable man who will be brave enough to take on his wife's siblings. That should not be so hard to find in London, should it? And while she is most grateful for Jon Targaryen's help, why must her cousin be so distracting?
To Make You Love Me 16k incomplete and orphaned
When Ned Stark dies, he leaves behind his wife, two daughters, and his family’s estate at Winterfell. What follows is a series of unwanted marriage proposals, houseguests who far outstay their welcome, and Arya parading around in a comically large hat and an oil-paint mustache as she declares herself the new ‘Lord of Winterfell,’ in an attempt to dissuade her sister’s suitors. However, when Mr. Jon Snow — their distant cousin and Ned’s appointed heir to the estate — comes to call, an oil-paint mustache is hardly enough to deter him from courting Miss Sansa Stark. And she thinks, perhaps, that a man could marry her for love more than her claim, after all.
Mine for a Season 101k by @vivilove-jonsa
Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife. With his war wounds, he thinks no young lady would want him anyway for anything beyond the allure of his pocketbook. Fortunately and unbeknownst to him, Fate has chosen to find a wife for him and will even deliver her right to his doorstep. Taking on the responsibility of shepherding a young lady about for a Season in London is not at all what Jon had wished to do but he had accepted out of a sense of familial duty. However, once he meets Sansa again after only having met her years ago as a child, he may not consider it a duty so much as a torment.
a lady of winterfell 185k, WIP by @wandering-scavenger
She bit her lip and exhaled shakily, “If you are so sickened by the prospect of marrying me, we should be able to obtain an annulment easily enough with your father’s connections.” “I will do no such thing.” he snapped, refusing to look at her. Sansa had never felt more rejected than she did at that moment. Her past experiences of being humiliated at the hand of Joffrey did not feel as painful as this. Even so, she could not allow him to see the weakness in her, not now. “I will not be left out, Jon.” she said, tilting her chin up to look down at him. He grimaced. They were silent for longer than she cared to count, but each second that he did not speak chipped away at her resolve and her ability to withhold her tears. Jon did not want her, and she could not blame him. Who could ever want her? It should not have distressed her as much as it did. She was never his favourite sister, she who treated him as a stranger since she was old enough to understand what a bastard was. A tear slipped down to her face until she tasted the salt of it on her lips. “If we marry, we will remain so.” corresponding gifset
moth's wings 47k by @cellsshapedlikestars
Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament. “Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.) And then Sansa does something very, very foolish. She says a name. “The Duke of Dragonstone!” Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.
An Understanding 2k, WIP by @thewolvescalledmehome
At the start of Sansa Stark's third London Season, she decides it will be her last. She will secure a husband by the end of the final ball. Jon Snow is new to the London Season and high society. He never expected to inherit money or property from an unknown uncle. When they meet at a ball, Sansa gets an idea.
you're in my blood like holy wine 72k
Sansa finds it difficult to look at Jon’s face, with its weathered lines and cragginess. It is the face of the North and a face that northerners trust; the face of Sansa’s brothers and her father, who had been loved and respected by their tenants as their forefathers had been when they were kings. How can Sansa feel anything but resentment, looking into that face and knowing that all of her years of hard work will never earn her the respect that that profile engenders within seconds? But she does. It is a small, burning coal of something that must be smothered.
PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON
#jonsa#jonsa fic#regency au#pride and prejudice au#emma au#northanger abbey au#mansfield park au#persuasion au#dot fic list#marriage of convenience au#arranged marriage au
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Home | Part 1
Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Frankie returns to you and your daughter.
Tags: Frankie Morales, Triple Frontier, Canon compliant, Frankie’s baby & his lady, fluff, angst, Dad!Frankie
Warnings: breaking & entering, gun, briefest illusion to drug use, illusions to death, some brief angst, let me know if I missed anything.
Notes: this is my first attempt writing Frankie. This idea came out of nowhere and I love it. Thank you to @wannab-urs for beta reading, adding commas, and the sweet comments! 🫶
Words: 938
Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist
You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since he left. He told you a week. It’s verging on three. You stare at his side of the bed. You’ve had to wash the sheets since he left, but you’ve left his pillowcase. You bury your face in it, seeking the traces of him. Frankie’s scent is beginning to fade.
Tears threaten to form in your eyes. You fight with them. You can’t cry. He’s coming home. He has to come home. You can’t do this without him. You curl around the pillow. You need to sleep, but you can’t. Every time you close your eyes, you see Frankie dead in a ravine, on a mountaintop, or in an alley somewhere.
Layla stirs in her crib, drawing your eye. You’re quiet as her eyes blink open. Her tiny fists curl beside her ears. You expect her wails to fill the room, echoing how you feel inside, but to your awe, she stays quiet.
The full moon streams through the bedroom window, shining off of your daughter’s dark eyes. They remind you so much of her father’s. She stares back at you. Your little girl. Your perfect little girl, so much like her daddy with her big brown eyes and soft curls. His little Layla Grace.
He has to come back. He can’t leave you. He can’t leave her.
Layla blinks. Each interval grows slower until her eyes drift shut. Her breathing evens out. She has a soft snore. Just one more thing she picked up from her daddy. You’re not sure she has any of your DNA and you love it.
You’re tempted to scoop her up and lay her in the bed beside you, but that’s Frankie’s spot. You can’t give it up, even to your daughter. You have to make sure he has his spot when returns home.
Eventually, your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out as Frankie’s comforting scent fills your nostrils.
You’re startled awake by the rattling of the storm door Frankie was supposed to fix months ago. Your heart rate skyrockets as you shoot up feeling dazed. The red numbers on your alarm clock read 3:09 am. The storm door rattles again, and then the backdoor squeaks open.
Your bare feet hit the hardwood. Layla is sound asleep. You open the nightstand drawer, quickly punching the gun-safe code. The metal is cool under your hands. It’s been a long time since you’ve held the gun, but the mechanics come back like riding a bike. You check the chamber and load the magazine.
The backdoor slams shut. You spare a glance at your daughter before quietly closing the bedroom door behind you. You use your bare feet to your advantage, avoiding all the creaky floorboards in your old home.
Something hits the wall in the kitchen making you jump. You catch a dark figure, presumably male, wrestling through your cabinets. It doesn’t make sense, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t allow for critical thinking.
You click the safety off, entering the kitchen. “Don’t move. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
His hands fly out, resting against the cabinet door. He lets out a tired sigh, something familiar in it.
“When I bought you that gun, I didn’t think you’d pull it on me, Sweetheart.”
Your chest tightens at the familiar timbre. The gun almost falls from your hands as you drop your stance. “Frankie?”
He turns around, eyes shining even in the dark. “It’s me, baby. I’m home.”
He eases forward, taking the deadly weapon from your shaking hands and disarming it. Placing the gun on the counter, he takes your hands into his, pulling you closer until his arms tighten around you. He holds onto you for dear life, both of you shaking.
Tears you’ve been holding in for weeks fall, soaking through Frankie’s jacket. His chest shakes, his tears mingling with yours.
“I thought you were gone.”
“I’m here. I’m here.” He repeats it over and over like an oath to you and an assurance to himself.
“Please don’t go again. Don't ever leave me again.”
“Never.” He kisses your salty cheeks, your forehead, and finally your lips.
You feel like home. You are his home. His hand runs through your hair, keeping him anchored to reality. He’s here and no longer in the jungle of South America.
You pull him back to the bedroom, both of you in a daze. You’re still in disbelief he’s here and whole. You fall into bed. Frankie pulls off his clothes, hat landing on the dresser where it belongs. You catch his movements stiff from the exhaustion of traveling, but he’s smiling at you the whole time, drinking you in like water in the desert.
Layla's small cries emanate from the crib pulling Frankie’s attention. Immediately, he’s at her side, cooing soft Spanish to her as he picks her up with the familiarity only a parent has. Goosebumps travel over your exposed skin. Layla quiets immediately, looking up at her daddy with wide eyes.
He moves over to the bed sitting next to you. His Spanish continues to spill in a comforting cadence. You caress Layla’s brown curls, head resting on Frankie’s shoulder. It’s all the perfect moment of peace and rest.
It won’t last long. Layla will remember she’s hungry soon enough. Frankie may sleep tonight, but the nightmares will come. There will be tears and grief and fights, but Frankie, Your Frankie, is here, and he’s intact, at least physically, and your daughter will grow up to know her father. That is what matters. The rest will wait.
#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#pedro pascal#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction
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The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 3)
[Part 1] [Part 2]
This is the last of the list, at least at present. I'm not quite sure when I started saving these, but it's been somewhere around 6 years!
"I think we should thank this book for finding us a new source of renewable energy: Jane Austen's corpse spinning in its grave."
"DNF @ 30% and I'm embarrassed to have made it that far."
"was written solely because the author received a thesaurus for her birthday."
"This book was so horrible that my friends and I started a Terrible Book Club where we passed around a copy in which we wrote snarky comments in the margins."
"If I wanted to hear endlessly repetitive justifications of bad decisions, I would go reread my journals from 2003"
"I can’t believe I’m expected to care about these two people who have the collective personality of a chair"
'This is one of those books that makes me feel that, even though I had heterosexual parents and a heterosexual family and grew up in a heterosexual world, I will never understand heterosexuals.'
"isn't so much a cliche storm as it is a cliche monsoon, a tsunami of platitudes, a tornado of concepts that have been Done Before."
"someone PLEASE give [author] a bag of commas (or at least give them to his editor)"
"I am reading this For Science."
"This book could be the perfect door stop, but the cat sprayed it."
"This book is fine for people who enjoy chewing sawdust."
"[Title] was my first husband's favorite book, and he used to quote from it all the time. When we got divorced (it wasn't amicable), my lawyer asked how I'd feel about using that fact in court."
"If the main character were an instrument, she'd be a cowbell."
"There's a metaphor that has been beaten to death and will never bother anyone again."
"The characters [...] were flatter than frogs hit by all eighteen wheels of a semi. Even the dogs were underdeveloped."
"It's the OJ Simpson trial! But with an extraterrestrial! This will never get dated!"
"about as exciting as an uncooked Brussel sprout"
[Author is] "Someone you'd sit behind in a 100 level philosophy class and maybe secretly want to choke a little."
"I read this book while locked in a psych ward against my will. I would have rather stared at the wall for five days instead of reading this."
"[...] a metaphor so blunt I am surprised it did not injure me"
"It takes a certain and rare kind of writer to make a story about civil war, genocide, and a refugee crisis boring and unreadable."
"Use this book to stuff an old mattress."
"I cannot honestly say that [book] is the worst novel ever written, but I grant [author] the benefit of this doubt solely because I have not read every novel ever written. (In private, however, I maintain my suspicions.)"
"disintegrated in my hands, which felt like a blessing."
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Comedy Is A Lie: I’m Going To Explain The Joke And It’s Going To Make Everything Worse
A buddy asked me why I cut a good joke from one of my fics and my immediate answer was “it killed the tension,” which, upon reflection, is a pathetic answer that is mostly inaccurate and does not even come CLOSE to how much thought I put into comedy in my writing. So I guess I’m going to write this out and excise the demon of over-explanation.
Part The First: What Is Funny
The biggest thing I try and keep in mind when writing editing comedy (and anything, really, but especially for comedy) is rhythm. Lots of parts to rhythm! Most obvious is the word-to-word/sentence-to-sentence flow. Timing is a really important aspect of verbal comedy, which is why performance is a good medium to use. You get to control the delivery of every sentence and the spaces in between. But when you’re writing, you have significantly less control over how a reader will interpret the rhythm: all you can do is word your sentences as best as you can and give them rhythm cues via punctuation. (This is why I use so many em dashes and commas… I'm working on that…)
The other part to rhythm is on a more macro scale. There are jokes that will roll along with the flow of a story. For me, these are jokes that don't deviate from the context of the scene too much. They connect one subject to the next, or they build off of each other (a ‘yes, and’ sequence, for example). Alternatively, the joke is delivered in a really understated way. Like passing off something objectively batshit as status quo. Either way, they flow!
Then there are jokes that will halt a scene in its tracks. These are jokes that recontextualize a situation, or make a particularly large leap from the current topic. Or, you've been setting up for this punchline for a while and this joke is payoff. Or the joke is just really, really funny. These are the kind of jokes where you need to give the characters (or the reader) a beat to process them. Sometimes. We’ll get back to that.
Part the Second: How Is Funny
So the point of all that rhythm stuff is that comedy has a flow! If every line is a witty one-liner, none of the lines are witty one-liners! If every joke is a one-hit-KO, you have left your reader unconscious. Basically, if you are constantly being #Funny, you become repetitive and predictable, and that is the death of tension (and humor is a tension-driven element).
One way to think of comedic pacing is setup (AKA building tension) and punchline (AKA payoff). It’s a balancing act: the more you build up tension, the more satisfying the payoff is going to be, but if you spend too long building up, you start dragging. You want the reader to think, “I can’t wait for the punchline!” and not, “oh my god, PLEASE get to the punchline already.”
Fun way to make the tension last longer is to put all those flow-y connector jokes along the way. The reader’s anticipating the Joke, so by giving them little jokes, it meets their expectations in little ways so that they don’t get too antsy.
Hey, what’s tension, you ask?
Part The Third: Why Is Funny
When I read a book, there are two emotions that get me to turn the page:
I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I’m curious!
I know X is going to happen, and I’m anticipating it!
That’s tension. (Something something semantics—I’ve never taken a creative writing class, I don’t have a vocabulary)
You can have the calmest, low-stakes fluffiest fic in the world but as long as your readers are experiencing either curiosity or anticipation, Congrats! You have tension! I, however, like putting readers on fast-paced rollercoasters, so that’s the lens through which I’m tackling this section, which is: how do I use jokes in a story structure context? What purpose does a clown serve?
I mentioned earlier that some jokes are bricks to the face: they demand to be processed. Most of the time, I put high-impact jokes in places where I need the story to “reset” in a way: force a beat so the reader can process both the joke and the plot. That’s using humor to release tension. Literally. Laughter relieves stress.
But! You can also use those jokes to make the tension even worse! If you drop a bomb and immediately press forward, no processing allowed, you get stressful comedy. You want to laugh, but also a bunch of other stuff is happening and it feels kind of rude to laugh, so you get stressed. Sometimes humor can undermine a climactic moment, but if you use the right joke in the right spot you create shrimp emotions. If you’ve read DotF ch8 you know what I’m talking about.
Jokes also just make for good plot points? A lot of jokes are built on recontextualization. Everybody loves a good twist/reversal/surprise in a plot. Just make a joke and re-frame it, and bam! You’ve plotted! (Everything I’ve ever written started off as a joke.)
Wait, What Was The Question?
Why did I cut the joke? It was a waste of a brick to the face. It was too referential, it required the audience to know/agree with something completely unrelated to the story, it didn’t build upon what I already established. It ruined the rhythm.
I need to emphasize that, despite all my Thoughts on this, the way I appraise my jokes is 80% vibe-based. I probably could have kept the joke, and it would have been totally fine. But I would know. I would know that my intended rhythm is broken… it would haunt me until the end of time…
#this isn't even getting onto building a Comedic Cast or nailing down a Comedic Characterization or Comedy-As-Action or Varying Your Humor#I'M JUST SAYING#my writing tends toward stupid crack comedy but i take my crack comedy extremely seriously#the short rule is that if it's funny it's valid#the long rule is that the more effort you put into something the funnier it becomes#it's about PURPOSE#writing#lazuli writes#comedy#lazuli talks
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MOMENTS FROM THE GROUPCHAT.
💌 a sentence meme collection of comments made in the groupchat collected for roleplay purposes. adjust as necessary!
"how do i choose between horny and violence???"
"task manager please. but task manager is my fingers."
"I am anticipating the noodle."
"liquid alcoholic marzipan, what could go wrong?"
"y'know what? fuck it. quiche."
"if i dont piss on the moon, who will?"
"i thought me getting a sore throat was my voice finally changing but no-- it was man flu".
"i feel like i'm being waterboarded."
"everyday i am teased with a cheese wheel."
"don't autocorrect my oxford comma!"
"you nearly killed me, you have to face the consequences!!"
"little worm little worm. fluffy pink little worm. you can live in my head rent free."
"father, it has been a week since my last sporticus fancam."
"i want to choke you until you DIE. … in the cute way!"
"you said motivate you, not don't lie to you."
"you don't know the wrath you're invoking, i'm on hormone therapy!"
"full offense meant, you're full of shit."
"i make the milk, you drink the milk!"
"so i think i emasculated him. all in a days work!"
"i wouldn't just dab."
"you have teeth, dipshit, they came free with your fucking xbox!"
"leave my husband's wife alone!!!"
"alright. let's venture forth or whatever the fuck they say."
"i was actually thinking of bringing pocket sand from the desert-"
"i will not be bested by a piece of elasticated string!"
"i can't even kill a vibe!"
"can i give you more money so you love me?"
"i got too cocky with my fists."
"i do it all for the little dissociation laughs!"
"just brand me a slut so i can get on with dinner."
"once more, a white boy changes my vocabulary."
"am i in an enemies to lovers relationship with my cartilage?"
"so, not only was it a crime of passion, it was phallic!"
"abdication. or death. which is a form of abdication, i suppose."
"we got through an entire bag of dirt!"
"when i'm about to die, it will not be a crow that is the omen, but a seagull."
"i will take the wet blanket to mordor."
"please, my self worth is based on grades and academia, the assignment is all i know, all i have."
"wouldn't it be funny if i was an alien?"
"it could have done with another pair of hands, but its a one person job if i'm the only one doing it."
"don't cite the deep magic to me, i'm liam neeson."
"when you look at the big picture, and kitchen witchery, onions are a basic human right."
"no-one's allowed to go to the aquarium without me, i am the fish!"
"i think it should be illegal for your eyes to pulse!"
"i'll be sat, what am i gonna do, faint?"
"i'm the bullet bill now."
"i wanna be mischief, i wanna be a creature!!!"
"frankly if my participation trophy could always be a hot goth death omen i would never miss another sports day again."
"a thousand words being communicated through this stare…. none of them good."
"i can make him worse, and I will!"
"you know, that little bit of RSD that comes with murder?"
"i've done worse things in my metaphors than boil frogs!!"
"whenever someone walks over my grave I always assume it's jesus."
"i said i was a gold digger, i didn't say i was a good one!"
"before i say anything i need you guys to promise not to do this-"
"please don't kill me, im busy."
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The game has only been out for a few days now, but I watched zmannzilla's longplay of INDIKA yesterday, and I'm rotating it furiously in my mind like it's a rubiks cube. The devs at Odd Meter Studios fled their country to make sure they could finish and release the project, and I'm so grateful they did. The world really needs a game this smart. It makes incredible stylistic choices with the titular character's perception of the world, examines prejudices against the disabled and incarcerated, points a dispassionate philosophical eye at religious corruption, and breaks wildly from expectations over and over again.
More, including some spoilers, under the cut.
The unfortunate anti-Roma and antisemitic moments in some of the background context irritated me. They employ the g slur to refer to a side character, and depict him stealing money. Later, it's said that two brothers who own small businesses across the road from one another are forever angry, because each brother thinks the other one is making more money. We eventually meet one of the brothers, who is unfortunately a blatant hook-nosed handwringing grifter stereotype.
This is a pair of nasty missteps at the back end of an otherwise truly gorgeous horror adventure game. As Indika carries a letter from her monastery to the diocese, she digests the plight of a wartorn community that doesn't trust her, her orthodox religious order, her innate compassion, or her practical knowledge.
While stumbling through the streets of a bleakly reimagined 19th century Russia, Indika gains a reluctant ally, and they grapple with their conflicting philosophies, until those conflicts become a matter of life or death. When is an attempt at salvation actually betrayal? Can the trust Indika has built with her comrade be salvaged? Should it be? What does doing the Right Thing look like in a nuanced, jaded, ambivalent world?
The ending made my breath stick in my throat. The leveling and points system is genius, in my opinion, though I notice many reviewers have already expressed displeasure in it. I think it's powerful and fascinating, if you look at it close enough; the leveling asks, do you want a little bit of a boost now, or accrue a greater store of points over time, later on? Note how each new level ability is labeled. Note what happens each time Indika adds something to her inventory. Light candles. Notice That One Candle that's not like the rest.
Indika finds her way through platform puzzles by navigating her own mind. Level geometry, scale and reason fluctuate wildly. First she's trying to follow orders, then she's trying to survive, then she's trying to make sense of the senseless.
I've seen a little art in the Indika tag so far, and it's mostly shipper stuff. I'm not judging people who bring shipping energy to this story, as there is textual romance here, but I think it's a cog in the story's mechanics, more than a setup for a happy ending. The relationship is tenuous at the best of times. there's honesty in it, but there's also a great deal of stubbornness, resentment, immaturity and selfishness. I don't think there's meant to be a textual happily ever after for either of them. Indika finds a sliver of inner peace behind the shattered remains of her assumptions, and the game ends on a comma, a question mark, a blank space where objectives and threats and grim certainties used to live.
Anyway. Go watch it. Buy and play it for yourself, if you can. Just like its heroine, it isn't perfect. Just like its narrator, it's only as terrifying as you want it to be. And, just like the political and spiritual systems it examines, the surreal meandering narrative has only as much power as you decide to give it.
9.5/10
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Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., etc.
I searched this trying to figure out what the fuck was happening, and these were the results:
Thankfully, the Dracula Daily subreddit had my back:
Had the same question and there probably should have been a comma between S and L. MD - Medical Doctor MRCS - Member Royal College of Surgeons LKQCPI - Licentiate of the Kings and Queens College of Physicians of Ireland
He has had another outbreak
Poor Renfield. First Dracula ditches him for Lucy, and then Seward does the same.
I went down to see if I could make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred
Except for his fits of violence he's never been violent
led me to believe that he was completely oblivious of the affair. It was, I am sorry to say, however, only another instance of his cunning
I mean that's not particularly cunning, that's what a toddler does when they realize they're about to be in trouble for acting up and/or the Shaggy Defense
Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.
I keep remembering that he's saying all this out loud. So dramatic. Can't blame him.
Her teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they had been in the morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the canine teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest.
There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled round—doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim—and every now and again struck the window with its wings.
what are you even doing Dracula, do you just want to watch your girl transform?
I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and had torn away the garlic flowers from her throat.
Oh shit
It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close.
This is sad. I'm sad now. Damn it, Dracula.
The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared.
Oh shit.
For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his face at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly:—
"She is dying. It will not be long now.
well it would have been five minutes longer if you hadn't stood there gaping at her
He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."
Guys, if ever I lay dying, I just want you to know that I do prefer hand-holding and forehead kisses to mouth kisses. I don't know why this will ever be relevant, but just so you know.
"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!"
Lucy what are you even planning here, are you going to suck the blood out of his lips? His tongue?
Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing's great brown one; drawing it to her, she kissed it. "My true friend," she said, in a faint voice, but with untellable pathos, "My true friend, and his! Oh, guard him, and give me peace!"
no that's fine, I didn't need my heart anyway
Do you ever wonder if Dracula had similar emotions when he turned
I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the drawing-room, where he sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a way that nearly broke me down to see.
I too am broken
"Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"
When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:—
"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."
FOR FUCK'S SAKE, MAN
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the one where they go camping (b.r.b.)
a/n: i started sending thoughts about the one bed trope with @gretagerwigsmuse and it suddenly turned into a full-fledged fic. also, there’s a playlist for this fic!! this is probably a full-fledged disaster but idk i enjoyed it.
summary: You spend your spring break camping with your friends from UVA. Cue the most awkward five days of your life when it turns out you and Bradley will have to share a bed.
flight risk masterlist | UVA cast of characters
warnings: swearing, alcohol, one bed trope, cuddling, arguing, food mentions, there’s a knife but it’s only used in a cooking context, the word bitch is used in a derogatory context, canon death of a parent, body insecurity, reference to former toxic relationships, sunshine needs therapy, this is semi-researched and semi my imagination, man i sure do love those fucking commas
word count: 10,612
The sound of keys being tossed on the table catches your attention. You look up from your book, catching a glimpse of Bailey, pulling out a chair next to you. From across her is Madison with Bradley, who is pulling the chair out across from you. You squint in the sunlight, offering him a soft smile.
"Hey Sunshine.” He says as he sits, tugging his backpack off his shoulders.
“Hi.”
“Any fun plans for spring break?”
You pick up your bookmark, shutting it in the book and setting it on the table as you shake your head. “No, I’ll probably just hang out here. Sleep maybe.”
Bailey’s head flies up from where she’s looking through her bag. “What?”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What you do you mean what?”
She doesn’t get a chance to respond as Tommy approaches the table, Eli behind him dragging two other chairs from another table to where you’re sat in the courtyard. It’s a warmer than usual day for March, letting you study outside for the first time in months.
“Are we discussing camping over here?” Tommy asks, sitting down between Bailey and Bradley. Eli wedges himself in between Tommy and Bradley, barely fitting in the group.
Bailey nods absent-mindedly, still staring at you. “I thought you were coming camping with us.”
“Oh- I didn’t-” You swallow, feeling the itch to pull the sleeves of your UVA sweatshirt down around your fingers. “I didn’t realize I was invited.” You mumble, cheeks going hot.
“What do mean you didn’t realize you were invited? Madison and I discussed it like, six times in front of you.”
You shrug. “I don’t have any gear to go camping. I’ve never actually even been camping.”
“How have you never been camping?” Eli asks incredulously, eyes going wide.
You shrug again. “I don’t know, we always did backyard campouts. My parents couldn’t really afford to take the time off of work.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t think you’d be invited.”
“I don’t know Bailey, it- it wasn’t an explicit invitation.” You stammer out, wanting to shrink down in your chair. “My parents always told me to never assume I’d been invited places or to invite myself to outings or trips. I didn’t want to assume I’d been invited and have nobody want me there.”
The table falls silent at the words and you resist the urge to squirm. Madison grabs your wrist, forcing you to look at her as she says your name softly. “You’re invited. We want you there. You don’t need to worry about gear or anything; Tommy and I are already compiling all of our stuff.”
“Okay.” You say softly, as she gives you a bright smile.
“Cool beans, cool bean.” She says, punching a laugh out of both you and Bradley.
“Didn’t you do Girl Scouts?” Eli asks, still frowning. “I’m still struggling to comphrend the fact that you’ve never been camping.”
You shrug. “Yeah, but only for a few years when I was little. It just got expensive, especially cause my siblings had their own extracurriculars and whatever. Never really got to the age where we did the whole camping thing. Who’s all going on this trip?”
“You, me, Bails, Mads, Eli and Bradley. I thought Kade would join us but he has to work.” Tommy responds.
“What about Anna?” You ask, eyebrow raised. “Or Blake, I know he likes camping.”
Tommy coughs awkwardly. “Yeah, well Blake is busy I think. Anna is going to Oregon to see her boyfriend.”
“Oh, gotcha.” You glance at the time on your watch. “Anyways, I have to go to class.”
“We’re leaving on Sunday at seven am sharp! Four days and five nights. Madison will pick you up. Bring clothes to swim cause we’re going to the lake.” Bailey says, pulling a notebook out of her bag.
“Are you guys still camping at Lake Shenandoah? Why leave so early?”
“Only gonna be there for five days. We have to maximize our time.” Madison says authoritatively, pulling her sunglasses down on to her face.
“There can’t be that much to do.” You mutter as you stand up from the table.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
-
Someone calls your name, making you turn. It’s Tommy, running out of the office you’d just walked past. “Hey Tommy.” You say, turning to face him. You have to look up to make eye contact with him, his lanky body towering over yours (and everyone else’s).
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you about camping actually.”
You raise an eyebrow, trying not to suck in your bottom lip to chew on it nervously.
Did they not want you to go anymore?
“So, we’ve done some preliminary packing and it turns out there’s not going to be enough room for Madison to drive you.” You swallow, waiting for the inevitable.
Sorry, we just don’t have room. Maybe next time?
He continues on however, not noticing your sudden panic. “Anyways, Bailey and Madison will be in Mads car together, but the only other person who’s car will fit all of us is Bradley’s, cause my truck will only fit two people and Eli refuses to drive his quote ‘nice, expensive car to a camp site’ so we’re left with Bradley’s. Anyways, are you cool to ride with him?”
You nod, even though the thought of being in a car with Bradley for a whole hour feels like the worst idea.
At least there would be other people? And, given the hierarchy of the friend group, you’d probably end up in the back.
It would be fine.
He smiles. “Great. Bradley has your address, right? He’ll pick you up at eight. Eli vetoed the leaving at seven thing.”
“Oh great, a whole extra hour.”
Tommy chuckles. “He was originally pushing for eleven.”
“And that somehow got negotiated down to eight?”
“Bailey threatened to key his car if he didn’t stop being difficult.”
“Why do you hang out with him again?”
“He’s cool.”
“Yeah, remember when Bailey told you you were frat bro-adjacent? She was right.” You say, turning on your heel.
“See you Sunday!″ He calls from behind you, smile clear in his tone.
-
You’re sitting out on your front porch, fiddling with your shoelaces nervously as you wait for Bradley. The sun is still rising, just peaking over the horizon. Your head is tucked up into your knees, admiring the sky when Bradley’s car emerges from around the corner.
You lift your head, up, noticing it's just him in the vehicle as he parks in front of your house. “Where’s your annoying buddy?” You call as he steps out of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.
He sighs, rounding the vehicle. “Oh boy do I have a story for you.”
You give a half-laugh, standing up from the step as he walks up the sidewalk towards you. “What? What happened? What did I miss?”
He shakes his head, not answering the question as he picks up the duffle bag that was siting by your feet. You double-check that the front door is locked and then follow him to the car, where he’s setting the bag in the back with his stuff. “Hop on in.”
You pull the front passenger door open, sliding in the seat. “Can we stop and get road trip snacks?”
He pauses from where he’s putting the key in the ignition to look at you. “It’s an hour drive.”
You shrug, pulling your seatbelt on. “Well, you don't have to get anything but I’m hungry and didn’t eat breakfast. Plus, I love a good road trip snack.”
He sighs, starting the car. “Yeah, I didn’t eat anything either. We can stop at McDonald’s, if you want.”
“That works.”
“Thank you for putting your seatbelt on, by the way.” He says, starting to pull out from your driveway.
“With this friend group, no one goes anywhere without it on.”
“I know, but I DD for the frat parties and you would not believe how hard it is to get drunk frat boys to put their seat belts on.”
You chuckle. “I could guess.” There’s a pause as you consider your next words. “You know, I always forget you’re in a frat because you don’t act like a typical frat bro.”
He turn his head, half towards you, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. Frat bros are certain type of people like...” You trail off, searching for how to describe the guys he hang out with without also insulting the people he’s around so often.
“Like Eli?” He asks, a smile growing on his face.
“Yeah.” You breathe out, returning his smile. “Like Eli.”
“I’m kind of annoyed at him at the moment, so you can talk shit, it’s okay. I know you don’t like him.”
“Bailey doesn’t like him.” You correct. “I really don’t mind him. I know you guys are best buds. Why’re you annoyed?”
He grumbles as the two of you pull into the McDonald’s parking lot. “I’m annoyed with all of them. You missed the packing disaster that happened last night, but to make a long story short, Tommy ended up having to drive and didn’t want to drive alone. It would’ve made sense for him to just come grab you and have the two of you drive in his truck since Eli and I live together, and I could’ve driven us but no, you were too far from Tommy’s and Eli wanted to hangout with Tommy and drive with him so somehow Eli ended up spending the night at Tommy’s and now we’re here.”
“So the short version is our friends are pains in the asses?”
He chuckles, turning to look at you as he pulls into the drive-thru line. “Pretty much. What do you want?”
-
You shift in your seat, trying to get a better look at the place as Bradley pulls into the driveway. “Bailey and Madison did good.”
“How the fuck did they beat us here?”
You pull your gaze from the small but cozy-looking cabin, to where Bradley’s eyeing the other cars in the driveway. Sure enough, there’s Tommy’s truck and Madison’s white Chevrolet SUV that somehow always felt larger than necessary. You shrug. “I don’t know, we did stop for McDonald’s.”
“Yeah, but when have you ever known our friends to leave on time?”
You tilt your head in acknowledgement of his question. “True.”
The two of you climb out of the car, Bradley grabbing the bags out of the back as you trek up the driveway. The front door opens before you can even knock, revealing a grinning Bailey.
“You guys finally made it! Bradley, the boys are upstairs, if you wanna take y’alls stuff up there.” She grabs your wrist, already moving you towards the kitchen. “Let me give you the full tour.”
The cabin is two-stories, with a small kitchen and a dining table just big enough to fit all six of you. She shows you the back area of the house from the French doors in the kitchen, where there’s a wonderful lake view and a fire pit. There's a smaller living room, with a loveseat and a recliner in front of a fireplace. She takes you up the stairs, where you realize with a sinking heart that there’s only three bedrooms.
“So this is the master, which is mine and Madison’s, because Madison planned the trip and I found this place. That’s Eli and Tommy’s room down the hall, with the two twin beds. Which means...”
“I’ll be sharing a bed with Bradley.” You sigh. The bed isn’t very big, a double if you had to guess.
Fuck.
You turn slightly, shooting Bailey a look. “You did this on purpose.” You whisper as the boys emerge from the room down the hall.
She sighs shaking her head. “No, we weren’t expecting Eli to be such a pain in the ass about the sleeping arrangements.”
You raise an eyebrow, doubting her words. “Really?”
“Yeah, really Bailey?” Madison asks, appearing over Bailey’s shoulder. “He’s the reason we’re in a cabin and not camping camping.”
“There’s dirt!” Eli shrieks as Bradley wedges himself in the doorway, realizing what the three of you are discussing. He gives you a brief glance, offering you a nervous smile.
“We’ll make it work. Only four nights right?”
-
You glance up from your book but quickly pull your attention back down once you catch sight of Bradley in nothing but his boxers.
He was trying to kill you, you were convinced of it.
Your eyes remained firmly planted on the page, even though they aren’t absorbing any of the words, becoming a blurry mess as you focus really hard on not looking back up to see practically naked Bradley. He flops down on the bed, only shifting up to turn the lights off, flooding the room in pitch-black darkness.
“Goodnight Sunshine.” He mutters, rolling over on the bed to have his back facing you.
“Hey, I was reading!” You protest, fumbling on your side of the bed for the switch to your lamp.
“Stop studying, we’re on spring break.” He says, hand blindly reaching out to grab the book out of your hand. He rolls over to put it on his nightstand with a rather loud thump.
You gape at the faint outline of his figure, barely illuminated by the light under the crack of the door. “You’re a pain in my ass. I won’t even know where I stopped. ”
“Yes, you will, because you always write in your books. Go to sleep.”
You huff, but comply, setting the pen you are in fact holding on your nightstand and pulling the covers over you as you roll to have your back face his. You shut your eyes, listening to the only sound in the house of Tommy washing the dishes downstairs.
It’s not long after that the light downstairs and in the hallway gets shut off, Tommy being the last one up and apparently going to bed for the night. The room does become pitch-black, the house falling silent.
You aren’t sure how long you lay there, eyes squeezed shut as sleep continuously escapes you.
All of the sudden, Bradley lets out a loud snore, causing you to jump. You shift up, looking over to him. As your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you see the faint outline of his chest rising and falling continuously. You let out a soft groan, palms of your hands reaching up to press themselves into your eyes.
It was going to be a long night.
-
The first thing you realize when you wake up is the fact that you’re abnormally warm.
It’s March and you’re in a cabin in the middle of the woods. For as much as you had all played with thermostat the night before when the darkness had settled in, and with it the colder temperatures, you hadn’t gotten it to be very warm in the cabin before giving up and going to bed for the night.
The second thing you register is that there’s a steady weight across your stomach and something tangled in your legs. You slowly let your eyes open, taking in the sunlight filtering in through the blinds, the sound of the coffee maker on downstairs. Tommy must be awake already.
You turn your head slightly, following the arm thrown around your center. The steady weight is connect to the person next to you who’s...
oh shit.
You wince, realizing what’s happening.
Bradley-the-human-furnace-Bradshaw is cuddling you.
Worse yet, you think he’s still asleep, which means he isn’t conscious of what he’s doing. At all.
That’s what you tell yourself as you begin to panic, unsure of what to do. Did you wake him up? Did you tell him to get off of you?
You had to admit that it was nice, the way he was holding you. The way his arms around you made you feel protected. Safe. It felt a little like being home, if you were honest.
You’d never felt that before.
You take a deep breath to center yourself, remembering that you and Bradley weren’t even friends. You were just two people who knew each other because of a mutual friend group. You were just two people who’d been invited on this camping trip and got stuck sharing a bed together.
It meant nothing. He didn’t mean anything by it.
He stirs, shifting slightly on the bed. You quickly turn your head, trying to ignore the way he’d looked with the golden rays dancing on his skin, squeezing your eyes shut.
Maybe you could pretend you were still asleep and the two of you would never have to talk about this and could pretend it never happened.
Yeah, that was a good plan.
He shifts, arm tightening around your middle as he rolls closer. You can practically feel his breath on the crook of your neck. “Morning Sunshine.”
The words take your breath clean from your throat as you tense, willing yourself to be very still. Maybe he thinks you’re still asleep.
“I know you’re not asleep.” The smile is clear in his voice and you move your head a little, looking back at him, swallowing when you realize how close he is. How good he looks in the morning.
“Hi.” You whisper.
“Hey.” He says, but then pulls his arm back, untangling his legs from yours. You instantly feel cold. “Sorry about that. I’ve been told I’m a cuddler in my sleep. Probably should’ve warned you.”
“It’s fine.” You say, the words physically painful to squeeze out. He sits up, comforter falling around his hips to reveal his naked chest that is bathed in golden sunlight. You turn back around, squeezing your eyes shut once more at the sight of him.
“What are we doing today, do you remember?”
“Um.” You swallow, throat scratchy. “I think we’re going hiking I think Madison said.”
Behind you, you can feel him move off the bed, his weight disappearing. You can hear him move around the room, walking to where his bag is sat and unzipping it. “Sounds good. I’m gonna get changed. See you downstairs.”
“Yeah.”
You hold your breath until you hear the bedroom door click shut, and then begin to count backwards from 20 by 2s as you try to regulate your breathing.
Then you sit up, not bothering to grab clothes to change into as you dart out of the room and down the hall, grabbing Bailey’s arm as she steps out of her room. Her eyes scan your face, searching for a sign of something being wrong.
“What? Is everything okay?” She asks. The two of you are squeezed in the doorway as Madison stands on the other side in the room, listening to the conversation.
“I woke up to Bradley cuddling me.” You mumble, eyes flickering to the door of Tommy’s room opening.
Her frown changes to a smile, growing wider. “Oh yeah? And then what? You two finally bang it out? Have sleepy, cuddly sex?”
You shoot her a look. “Fuck off that, will you?”
Madison snickers, causing you to also toss her a withering look.
“Whatcha girls talking about over there?” Eli calls, Bradley appearing over his shoulder.
“The stick up your ass.” Bailey calls back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the room, slamming the door shut behind you.
“Smooth, B.” Madison mutters.
Bailey ignores Madison, turning to face you with her hands on her hips. “Tell me everything. Now.”
You faceplant on the bed with a groan. “There’s nothing to tell. I woke up to him cuddling me in his sleep and then he said ‘Sorry, I’m a cuddler in my sleep’ and then got up and left.”
The words are muffled into the comforter of the bed as your legs dangle off the side. It goes quiet in the room and you almost wonder if they didn’t hear you. Finally, you lift your had, pushing yourself into a seated position as you bring your legs to sit criss-cross.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to be normal around him now. He literally wears nothing but his underwear to bed. I just have to look at him like that after he cuddled me in his sleep and somehow be normal?”
“So don’t.” Bailey says with a simple shrug. “Grow a pair and tell him. Tell him that you have a huge raging crush on him and then bang it out and become the world’s cutest couple so the rest of us can stop doing this dance with the two of you.”
“You don’t have to sleep with him, like that.” Madison adds, sitting down on the bed. “But you should tell him how you feel about him.”
You groan again, moving to face-plant once more into the comforter but Madison’s hand shoots out, keeping you upright. “He doesn’t like me back, I told you that.”
“You’re the only one who thinks that.” Madison says firmly, giving you a little push so you’re upright.
“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.” Bailey says flatly with an eyebrow raised.
“It’s not denial, Bails. He doesn’t like me like that. I don’t even think he’s sees us as friends. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m annoying.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible.” She says, turning around to the door.
“Will one of you switch rooms with me, please?” You beg, turning to Madison first, knowing that if anyone will switch with you, it will be her. Her eyes flicker over to Bailey, who shakes her head.
“Do you honestly think any of the other guys would’ve accidentally cuddled you in their sleep?”
You shrug. “I don’t know, he did say this is normal for him.”
Bailey sighs, taking another step back closer to the door. “I don’t think he’s the only one making excuses.”
“What does that mean?”
She ignores the question, hand on the doorknob. “Give it one more night and if you’re still uncomfortable, you and I will switch.” She opens the door, slipping out into the hallway.
Madison squeezes your shoulder. “Tommy just made us a pot of coffee. Do you want me to pour you a cup while you get dressed?”
You look down, realizing you’re still in pajamas. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
She nods standing up from the bed, as you fall backwards on the bed, the heels of your hands once again coming to press into your eyes.
You were so screwed.
-
You squint, the bright sun overhead filtering in through the trees as the sounds of your friends yelling at each other causes the birds to fly away from the treetops.
“I told you, we’re lost!” Bailey shouts, throwing her hands up in frustration. “And it’s all your fault, because you ignored Madison and said you knew where you were going!”
“I do know where we’re going! I’ve made this hike a hundred times!” Eli shouts back.
“Okay, both of you, cut it out. Bickering isn’t going to change the fact that we’re standing on the edge of a cliff.” Tommy said, wedging himself between Bailey and Eli.
“I’ll push him off the edge of the cliff.” Bailey says, hands moving to her hips a she stares daggers down at Eli.
“You’re a bitch.” Eli shoots, causing Bradley’s head to fly up from where he’s watching you kick a rock.
“Hey!” He shouts. “Uh uh, we don’t talk about women like that.”
“Don’t bother Bradshaw, I take pride in being called a bitch. “ Bailey says smugly.
“Oh, of course you do.” Eli snarks, rolling his eyes.
“Where the fuck is Madison going?” You mutter, watching her disappear off the trail and into the bushes.
“The right way probably.” Bradley mutters back.
“Should we follow her?”
He tilts his head in consideration of your question. “We could. Or, hear me out-” He says, holding his hands out. “-we could go back to the cabin and play cards.”
You bite your lip, nervous about the prospect of being all alone with him since this morning, but one look back to Tommy keeping Bailey and Eli form ripping each other’s throats out is enough to have you nodding.
“Done deal, Bradshaw. Lead the way.”
The two of you walk down the path from which you came, the shouting and bickering of your friends slowly tapering off into the distance. It’s quiet for a minute as you follow his footsteps, crunching over the leaves and dirt along the trail.
“So... you excited about graduating?”
He shrugs, pulling back to fall in step with you. “Kind of. This trip is making it all sort of real for me you know? This is the last time it’ll ever be like this.”
“Any grand post-grad plans?”
“I’m enlisting.” Your head flies up at the words.
“You- wait, you really are?”
He nods, offering you nervous smile. “Yeah, I sent in my paperwork the morning I came to pick you up. I’ll have a better idea in a little while of where I’ll be going in a few weeks, but it’s happening, pretty much straight away.”
“Wow.” You mutter.
On the one hand, you’re thrilled for Bradley to get everything he's ever wanted. For as long as you known him, the Navy was the dream. Everything he’s worked for would soon be coming into fruition for him.
On the other hand, you’re terrified. Terrified you may never hear from him again, that Bradley Bradshaw may become nothing more than a memory to everybody who’s ever known or loved him.
Because that was it, wasn’t it?
To know Bradley Bradshaw was to love him.
And maybe that didn’t scare you as much as it should’ve, the thought that you might be in love with this boy.
But what did scare you was what could happen to one of the kindest human beings you’d ever met.
He catches your look, reaching out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Hey now, don’t worry Sunshine. I’ll be as safe as can be.” You offer him a smile, nodding. “So what about you? Going anywhere fun for the summer? Tom and Bailey mentioned something about you going to D.C.?”
You shake your head. “Nah, nowhere fun. The D.C. trip kind of fell through and I couldn’t really afford it to begin with. I decided to renew the lease on my house with my roommate. I’ll just be working. Maybe doing research if my proposal gets approved.”
His face brightens. “Hey, that’s great Sunshine! You get paid for that?”
You nod. “Through the school, yeah. And that’s if they accept me.”
“I have no doubt in my mind that they will.” He sighs, looking at you before biting his lip. “Hey Sunshine, about this morning, if I made you uncomfortable or-”
You shake your head. “No! No, I-” You cut yourself off, unsure of what to say to assure him that it wasn’t him, it was you.
“I just wanted to apologize in case I made you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I would want to do.”
You take a shuddering breath at how kind he is, the way it makes your heart do silly little things, like want to reach over and kiss him, before you can bring yourself to respond. “Nope, you’re all good Bradshaw.” You say, forcing a smile.
And you'd make it be good.
-
“Sunshine, what are you doing?”
You look up from where you’re setting up the pillows to Bradley, who’s just walked through the door. He’s wearing sweatpants tonight (albeit still no shirt) but you’re grateful nonetheless because maybe with pants on you’ll be able to maintain some semblance of normality around him.
Kind of.
“Sunshine?” He asks again and you shake your head, looking back down at the decorative pillows you’d grabbed from the loveseat earlier.
“I’m building a pillow wall. So that way we, you know, both get our own side of the bed, and there’s no accidental cuddling or anything.”
He clears his throat awkwardly, an unusual blush rising on his cheeks. “Sunshine, I told you I was sorry about that.”
You shrug. “And I told you it was fine. But problem solved.”
Really, truly, honestly - it was boundary for you and you alone. You were afraid that if you woke up one more time to him cuddling you in nothing but his underwear, you do something stupid. Like kiss him or tell him about your stupid crush on him.
Still, his jaw tenses, his hand twitching at his side. The two of you stand in awkward silence for a minute before he finally sighs. “Okay. Whatever you want.”
He walks the few paces towards the bed and then climbs in, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin, leaving you to get the lights. You sigh, walking towards the door and flicking them off. You walk around the bed to climb in on your side, curling up all the way at the very edge of the bed.
The tension hangs in the room, his body stiff. You wait for him to tell you goodnight like he had the night before but he says nothing.
It’s not long that the two of you are laying there before a loud cheer erupts from downstairs.
Your friends had long passed the line between tipsy into drunk and both you and Bradley had tapped out when they started creeping into drunkenly obnoxious territory.
“What the fuck are they doing down there?’ You ask, shifting slightly to look back towards the door.
He grunts.
“Sorry.” You whisper, turning back around. “Good night Bradley.”
“Night.”
-
When Bradley wakes up, you’re all too aware of it, having tossed and turned all night long. You were surprised he didn’t kick you out of the bed from how much you had rolled around, although you’d tried to sit very still for as long as possible.
At one point you even went to the bathroom just to sit so as not to bother him. Unfortunately, Eli came in not long after to puke so the reprieve was short-lived.
A quick glance at the digital clock on the nightstand next to you tells you it’s only 6:10 am, far too early for Bradley to be up, and much less any of your friends who are definitely going to have hangovers. You shift slightly, watching as he sits up, pulling the comforter off of him.
He gently pushes himself off the bed and softly pads towards the door, shutting it behind him with a gentle click. You hold your breath, waiting for him to return to the room, thinking he’s just peeing, but it’s only when you realize it’s 6:31 am that he’s not coming back.
You groan, rolling back over as an ache settles in your chest.
Maybe now you’d finally be able to get some sleep.
-
When you’re awoken again, it’s to the sound of the door opening and someone saying your name. You groan, rolling over to the offender. You’re greeted by the sight of Bailey standing there with the door wide open.
“Good. You’re alive.”
“The fuck do you want?” You say through a yawn, a quick glance to the clock showing you it’s 11:17 am.
“Everyone minus Madison is downstairs eating breakfast and then we’re all going to the lake.”
“Where’s Madison?” You ask, not moving from the bed.
“Violently hungover. Eli quote ‘puked and rallied’, but Tommy and I can hold our alcohol. We also had way less to drink than the other two.”
You hum, but still make no move to get off the bed. She nods her head towards the downstairs. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”
“Can’t I join you guys later? I didn’t sleep very good last night.”
Her eyes skim over the pillows next to you. “I can imagine, what with the great pillow wall of Lake Shenandoah. That Bradshaw’s idea?”
“Mine.”
She blows out a breath. “Explains why he was up at the ass crack of dawn. Even beat Tommy up. C’mon, he made sure we saved you some breakfast and a cup of coffee.”
With a final groan, you push yourself off the bed and follow her into the hallway and down the stairs. The boys grin at the sight of you, Bradley even offering you a small smile over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Hey sleeping beauty, thanks for joining us here in the land of the living.” Tommy teases.
“Good afternoon.” Eli says, a smirk on his face. Your eyes flicker to the time on the oven (11:21 am) and then back to Eli’s face.
“Fuck off, it’s not even noon yet.”
“Practically could be.”
“Good morning.” Bradley says softly as you approach the stove, picking up the coffee cup that’s sitting next to him. “Here, I save you the last cup of coffee although I wasn’t sure what you liked in it. And I made sure we saved you some breakfast: eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. There’s also toast.”
You don’t even have the heart to tell him that Bailey had already told you all of this, what with the way he’s looking at you so genuinely, so earnestly. “Thank you Bradley, really.”
Tommy clears his throat, standing up from the table. “Alright well, I’m ready to go down to the lake, if everybody else is.” There’s muttered agreement, your friends moving from their various places in the space.
“You’ll come down and join us when you’re ready, right?” Bradley says, a little concern filtering into his tone. You muster up a smile, hands wrapping tighter around the coffee mug.
“Will do Bradshaw.”
You watch them from the window for the next hour, puttering around the kitchen as you clean up the dishes from breakfast. It’s the least you can do considering everyone else cooked.
You were definitely not stalling, suddenly nervous to go outside to the lake in a bathing suit with all the boys, knowing they’d be looking at you.
You still couldn’t forget the way Noah’s eyes had roamed over your body, saying it might be a little too much.
That you were a little too much.
You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you braced yourself against the counter.
You didn’t do that anymore. You hadn’t done that in months. They were your friends and they’d never make you feel small or uncomfortable or-
ugly. unwanted.
You’d packed both bathing suits you own, one more risqué than the other. Both were one-pieces, easy to cover-up in, but the words you ex-boyfriend had said to you about the one that showed off your chest and had an open back lingered in your mind, reassuring you that the simple suit was the much better option.
You pull your hair back, sighing as you try to work up the nerve to go downstairs and outside.
“Hey.”
You turn, seeing Madison in the doorway. “Hey. You don’t look as awful as I thought you would.”
She shrugs, leaning up against the doorway. “I think if I went outside, I’d throw up. But other than that, I’m definitely feeling better than I was at 9 am. Cute suit.”
You look down, adjusting the strap of the blue-green clothing. “Thanks.”
“I still like the red one better though.”
“Yeah?” You ask, your teeth catching your bottom lip.
She nods. “Yeah, I like the back on it and I think the color suits you a lot more.”
“Should I change?” You ask, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror.
She shrugs. “Up to you. I’m going back to my cave of darkness.”
You sigh, turning back towards your room to change into the other suit.
You’d packed shorts and a t-shirt to go over the suit in case you did get insecure (you knew you would) and well- no one said you had to get in the lake, right?
You groan as you pause at the doors, suddenly wanting to turn around, go back to the bedroom, slip under the covers and hide.
Because Bailey was Bailey. She had always reminded how pretty you were even when you couldn’t see it.
And Tommy was Tommy. He saw you as a little sister, someone he could goof around with and build Legos with.
And Eli could choke.
But Bradley?
It was important to you what Bradley thought of you. Especially in a bathing suit, because apparently you were twelve again, wanting the approval of the boys at the pool party.
You sigh as you slip out the French doors and out across the grass to where the group is located. Tommy’s a ways out, disappearing beneath the waves with every passing moment, brunette curls sticking his face. Bailey and Eli are stood on the edge of the shore, bickering.
And there’s Bradley, sat in a camping chair, beer in hand.
“Hey.”
He looks up at you, face squinting from the bright sun overhead. “Hey. Why aren’t you changed?”
You glance down at the t-shirt from your high school with the word S E N I O R S spelled out like the Friends logo. “Oh, I did, but I figured the lake might be cold...”
You can’t help but let your eyes roam over his body, the way his tan skin looks in the sunlight of the day. Where his once-wet curls are slowly drying, curling more than usual, especially around the nape of his neck. You can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to reach out and run your fingers through them.
“It’s not that cold, honestly.”
You nod absentmindedly, watching as Tommy swims closer to shore. You bite your lip as Tommy hoists himself up on the deck that sits out over the lake.
These were your friends, but even you weren’t blind to the fact that they were all a great-looking group of people. And they’d never make you feel small. But it was hard not to feel insecure standing next to guys and girls who got everyone they wanted, Bradley included.
“You coming back out Bradshaw?” Tommy calls. He looks up to you, pulling his sunglasses off.
“Depends. You gonna join us?”
You blow out a breath. “Yeah, I guess I could come sit for a little while.”
The two of you head down towards the dock, as you try to remind yourself that it doesn’t matter what Bradley Bradshaw thinks of you in a bathing suit. You woke up to him cuddling you the other day; how could it get any worse?
You follow him down towards the lack, the grass beneath your feet tickling slightly.
Memories of summers spent in your back yard, running through the hose with your siblings, flash through your brain. The nostalgic ache for the familiar itch of grass on your bare legs and laughter settles in your chest as you watch Bradley cannon ball into the lake with Eli.
You swallow as Bailey tugs your arm, dragging you further on to the deck. “C’mon, get in the water with me.”
“Um-” You say, eyes flickering back over to the boys, Tommy diving into the water and popping up next to Eli and Bradley. “What if they say something about-”
You cut yourself off, unable to bring yourself to say the words, but you know she understands anyways.
She raises an eyebrow, giving you an unimpressed look. “I’ll cut their dicks off if they do.”
The words punch a laugh out of you, some of your nerves going with it. You had known Bailey long enough to know that that was a threat she’d follow through on.
You shake your head, already reaching to pull your shirt off. “Okay, okay.” You pull your shorts off, walking further down the deck with Bailey by your side as the boys attention drifts to you.
It takes everything in you not to shrink back as you watch Bradley’s eyes go wide. Eli catches the moment, whispering something only him and Tommy can hear, causing Bradley to punch his shoulder before tipping his head back into the water.
Your mouth suddenly tastes sour, your self-consciousness rising through your stomach and up into your throat as you near the edge of the deck, realizing they’re all watching you.
It almost makes you want to turn around and go back into the house, but you don’t get a chance as Bailey is grabbing your hand. “On the count of three, okay?”
“Wait-”
“One.”
“No, Bailey-”
“Two.”
“I don’t want to-”
“Three!” She shouts, leaving you with no choice but to jump with her for fear of being tugged off the deck if you didn't.
The water is cold against your skin as you preemptively scrunch up your face, hoping to keep the water out of your eyes.
You gasp for breath you break the surface, hair already clinging to your back as you blink, searching for your friends.
A splash of water catches your attention, causing you to turn your head. It’s Bailey, popping up after you. “That was fun.”
“For one of us.”
She lets out a little laugh, offering you a shrug. It’s quiet for a minute as the two of you try to catch your breath before she nods towards the boys, signaling to head over to them. “Thanks for joining us on this trip.”
You nod as the two of you move towards the boys. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“We’re happy to have you here.”
-
A few hours later, you watch the sun begin to set in the distance, the orange hues settling across the lake in ripples. You take a deep breath as you admire the view, the distant conversation not even distracting you.
Until there’s a particularly loud splash of water.
You turn, spotting Eli swim away from Bailey as fast as he can.
Bradley floats over to you as you watch Bailey try to shove Eli under the water as she catches up to him. “Hey, your strap is all twisted.” He says, pointing to the top of your suit.
You look down, realizing it’s twisted all the way to the back. “Oh shit. Do you think you could untwist it for me? I don’t think I’ll be able to get it.”
He nods, swimming a little bit closer to reach out for your shoulder. “It’s a nice suit, by the way.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, the color looks good on you.” He says, pulling away and offering you a small smirk.
You think your cheeks are as red as the suit adorning your body.
-
You pad down the stairs, wet hair falling over your shoulder where the water seeps into your UVA t-shirt. Bradley’s alone in the kitchen, cooking dinner. He looks up at the noise, smiling at the sight of you. “Hey.”
“Smells good.” You say, walking further into the kitchen. He nods.
“Yeah, I wanted to do something a little bit more involved for dinner tonight since I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in our friend group who can actually cook besides Madison and she’s still hungover.”
“You want help?”
“Actually, yeah, could you help me cut the bell peppers? It would really speed things along.” You nod, taking the knife from him, even though you have no idea what the proper way way to slice a bell pepper is.
It couldn’t be that hard, right?
You stand there, examining the vegetable in your hand as you debate the best way to approach this, desperately wanting to not fuck it up.
“You know what you’re doing there?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You point the knife at him.
“Hey, I might not have the cooking skills of Madison but I think I can figure out how to cut a bell pepper.”
There’s a pause as he stares at you. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“Absolutely not.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Here, I’ll show you.” His voice is void of a condescending tone, which you appreciate.
He takes one of your hands, curling your fingers inward. “See, you always want to have your fingers curled inward, otherwise you run the risk of chopping your fingers off.” You nod as he takes the hand, setting it on the bell pepper while the other hand guides the hand the knife is in. “You’re just gonna cut the bottom and top off like this.” He says, demonstrating the movements.
His skin feels warm against yours as you desperately try not to lean into him, his chest pressed against your back. “Where’d you learn how to cook Bradshaw?”
The question is meant to be teasing but your tone ends up being more genuine as you feel him chuckle, chest vibrating. “My Mom. She always made me help her cook growing up. It was a way for us to bond. Food kind of brought us together, I guess.”
“She sounds like she’s a great woman.” You whisper, tilting your head just enough to look in his yes.
A flash of pain crosses his face, even as he returns your smile. “She was.” he says softly. “I wish you could’ve met her. She would’ve loved you.”
You swallow, realizing how close the two of you are. How vulnerable he’s being and how much you just want to reach up and-
He clears his throat, ducking his head. “Anyways, um, you just cut the inside pieces of like this and then cut it into slices.”
You nod, blinking at the sudden change in tone and body language, the wya he had rushed walking you through the second half of the process. “Alright, thanks.”
He gives you a small smile, stepping out of your space. “No problem.”
The two of you work alongside each other, the only sound coming from Bradley humming to the ABBA songs playing from the small speaker in the corner of the kitchen. As you cut the bell peppers, you think about the way Bradley hasn’t called you Sunshine since before “the great wall of Lake Shenandoah” as Bailey insisted on calling it, the way he’d made sure to keep his distance.
In an effort to keep yourself under control, you’d somehow managed to make things worse.
Yet, he’d still saved you breakfast and was teaching you how to cut bell peppers. The kindness in his eyes whenever he looked at you made your chest ache, and honestly all you wanted to do was to make things not be weird.
“Hey, do you think you could-”
“Bradley, I’m sorry I made things weird or like- awkward between us.”
He pauses from where he’s fiddling with he stove, eyes going wide. “What?”
You sigh, gaze dropping down to the knife sitting on the cutting board. “I’m sorry if my- my stupid pillow wall made things weird between us.”
He shrugs, turning back to the stove. “We’re good.”
“We’re not good. You haven’t called me Sunshine since before our walk back to the cabin yesterday after the failed hike and I don’t know- it feels a little strange.”
He huffs out a breath, keeping his back turned to you. “Fine, Sunshine, there we go, easy fix. Can you please get the sour cream and cheese from the fridge?”
You comply, setting the food on the counter before you walk over to him, standing next to him in front of the tiny stove space. “Bradley-”
He sighs, keeping his eyes trained firmly on the cooking chicken and veggies. “Sunshine, I just- The last thing I ever want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. I know it’s not any of my business, but I know Noah wasn’t-” He pauses, jabbing at the mixture in the pan. “I know Noah wasn’t good to you and the last thing I want to do to is put you in a position to feel like you have to put up with a man who makes you uncomfortable for the sake of your friends, like you did with him.”
Despite yourself, you let out a little laugh. “Bradley, what?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I mean, it is, honestly. It’s laughable because you and Noah aren’t even in the same stratosphere of human beings-” He shoots you a look, cutting off the laughter bubbling out of you. “Oh, Bradley, c’mon I’m serious. You’re actually a good person, not like him who was just born as an asshole.”
“Sunshine, I’m serious.”
You feel like you forget how to breathe with the way he’s looking at you, suddenly ignoring the cooking food.
“Okay, I-” You pause, trying to take a deep breath. “Bradley, I didn’t keep him around because of my friends.”
“Yeah? Not even after he dumped you and broke your heart?” He asks, frowning.
You bite your lip, looking down to the browning veggies. “I- Yeah, okay I did. But I- if you made me uncomfortable, especially like he did, I never would’ve agreed to come on this trip, much less share a bed with you.”
He turns the stove off wordlessly, pulling the food as he sets it to the side before turning to look you in the eye. “You promise?”
You sigh, stepping forward to rest your hands on his biceps. “I promise.”
-
You can hear the laughter echo from the cabin, all the way by the French doors as you slip out, Madison offering you a thumbs up and Bailey and Tommy giving you all-knowing grins.
You roll your eyes, pulling your jacket around you tighter as you lightly pad down the steps and across the grass to the fire pit where Eli and Bradley sit. You can hear the low mutter of their conversation as you approach, almost making you second-guess yourself.
“Sorry, am I interrupting?”
Both boys turn in their chairs to face you. Eli offers you a small smile, shaking his head. “Not at all Sunshine.” His voice is teasing, the nickname sounding strange coming from someone who wasn’t Bradley. “I was just headed back inside.”
You nod, taking Eli’s place next to Bradley as he passes by you, walking back towards the cabin. Bradley doesn’t say anything, just kicks his feet up to sit on the edge of the fire pit. The only sounds come from the birds above and the crackling of the fire in front of you.
“You know what I like about us?”
You hum, eyes still watching the flames dance in front of you.
“I like that no matter what, we can always sit in silence together and it not weird or awkward, it’s just comfortable. I can just be.”
You lift your head to smile at him. There’s another pause as he opens another beer from the cooler by his feet.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Anything, Sunshine.”
“Why are you so fond of Eli?”
He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head at the question, and lets out a little chuckle, almost nervous. “I’m gonna tell you a story, Sunshine, and it’s not one that I tell very many people.”
You nod, keeping eye contact with him. “I’m listening.”
You almost think he whispers “I know.” under his breath before he sighs, shifting to rest his arms on his knees. “When I came to UVA, I was in a pretty dark place. I’d just-” He cuts himself off, mouth beginning to frown. “I’d just been dealing with a lot of family issues and personal stuff. Which is vague, I know. Um- to save you the pain of listening to my issues, I can sum it up with the fact that my Mom had just died, just before my senior year. I was alone and on my own and I knew it. But uhm- there was that kid on the first day of Spanish 1, my partner for the icebreakers. And I didn’t want to share or really even talk to this kid, but there was just- No matter how upset I was, he just- man Sunshine he just kept making me laugh.”
He pauses as he takes a sip of his beer. “Those are the best kinds of friendships.” You whisper.
He nods. “They are. They’re my favorite kind. But-” He says, tilting his head again in acknowledgement of his words. “I get that he’s not like that with everyone. We gelled from the very beginning and I’ve never thought twice about him. His family has welcomed me into their home and their vacations, into their lives and love. He’s always had my back, no questions asked. But he’s a dick to a lot of people and I do know that.” He takes a deep breath, shifting on his chair. “He’s a dick to you, and I know that.���
You shift on your chair, suddenly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going. “I didn’t mean to make this about how he treats me-”
Bradley shakes his head, cutting you off. “It’s not a justification but- Eli’s family, they come from old money. And I mean like, old money. And the way he was raised- the sheer competition to be better, always better, it bleeds into who he is as an adult. He likes people who can challenge him—I think it’s why he keeps going back to Bailey despite all the bickering—but I think in all the worst ways possible, you remind him of his sister. Younger and yet somehow always better. Always destined for more.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, watching him lean back in his chair. “He’s a good person at his core. He knows when people are in need and he does his best to help them. But—and again, this isn’t to excuse or justify it—it doesn’t change the fact that you’re brilliant Sunshine. You have the whole world at your feet and we all know it. And for whatever Eli ends up doing, he knows that you will do more.”
-
You rub your lips together as you snap the lid on the chapstick shut. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror, your UVA sweatshirt pulled on with a pair of old sweats before flicking the light off.
You move to open the door, to head back downstairs and outside to join all your friends at the fire pit , when you hear the door down the hall open, the sound of Eli and Bradley arguing following it.
“-Bradshaw, all I’m saying is that, if you were to have feelings for her, I think you should go for it.”
You furrow your eyebrows, stepping closer to the door. You felt a bit bad, eavesdropping on their conversation, but the thought Bradley might have a crush on some girl made your stomach churn in the worst ways.
He wasn’t yours to lose and yet-
Your train of thought is cut off by the sound of Bradley groaning, his footsteps stopping at the top of the stairs. “Where the fuck is this even coming from, Eli?”
Eli’s footsteps stop and you hear him sigh. “She’s really good for you Bradley.”
“Okay?”
“I just think you’d be better off admitting that you have feelings for your Sunshine. Even just to yourself.”
Your entire body freezes.
“I don’t like her like that!” Bradley exclaims and you swear your heart stops beating for a minute.
Distantly, you realize they must think you’re outside with the group, or they’d never be having this conversation with you near.
“You’re fucking impossible Bradley, you know that? Sunshine is halfway in love with you and you won’t even entertain the possibility of it?”
“Entertain it? I don’t like her like that. She’s my friend.”
Eli snorts. “Sure, keep fucking tell yourself that Bradshaw. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”
The words trigger a memory, words Bailey had said to you at the very beginning of the trip.
Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.
Horror and embarrassment floods over you as you realize they had set you up. They’d taken your crush on Bradley and had set you up.
The whole trip had been a set up.
“It’s not denial. I honestly don’t even know if I’d classify her as my friend. I’d say she’s probably more Tommy’s friend than anything.” He says the words so casually, yet you’d been around him long enough to recognize the defensive tone hidden in his words.
Still, it makes your entire body go cold as you realized you’d been right all along.
Eli sighs, and then there’s a long pause between them as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, tears pricking at your eyes.
“Whatever Bradshaw, it’ll be your loss when she’s the one who got away.”
Bradley splutters but he follows Eli’s footsteps down the stairs.
You strain your ears for the sound of the French door shutting before you let yourself breath, mind whirring at what had just happened.
Part of you desperately wants you to believe that this hadn’t been a set-up, something done to embarrass you. That your friends wanted you here, not what they thought you could be for Bradley.
Part of you wonders if it had all been a joke, a gotcha moment while they laugh at your humiliation.
You become more horrified as you play the trip back in your head, realizing it wasn’t that Bradley hadn’t wanted to make you uncomfortable.
He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.
You begin to feel empty as the words play on repeat in your head, realizing that without a doubt, no matter what you felt for him, Bradley Bradshaw felt nothing for you.
-
You hear the door to the bedroom open some hours later as you squeeze your eyes shut, clutching the comforter around you tighter as if it can protect you.
After overhearing Eli and Bradley’s conversation, you had gone back to your room, slipping under the covers as you suppressed your tears. You hadn’t want them to come back into the house and find you in the state you were in.
Eventually, the emotion had left you, just leaving you emotionally exhausted while unable to sleep.
“Sunshine?” Comes the whispered voice of Bradley as light floods the room. “You awake?”
You measure your breathing and he must buy it, because he shuts the door, slipping into the bed next to you, smelling distantly of campfire.
You resist a shudder, almost instinctively wanting to lean into the smell and roll over and cuddle him. Let him pull you close like he did that first morning. Let him run his fingers through your hair and tell your everything will be okay.
It’s quiet in the room as you beg sleep to come to you, yet it is painfully out of your reach. Your brain won’t stop replaying the words from earlier, how Bradley had said we’re just friends, but really if anything, she’s Tommy’s friend.
You hear the sheets move as Bradley shifts, rolling from his side to his back. The movement pulls you from your thoughts, forcing you to steady your breath, as you will yourself to be still. “Are you awake?” His voice is barely a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you’re asleep.You can’t be sure, but you almost think you hear his head move to face your back. You bite your lip, wanting to ignore him, but it’s his soft “Sunshine?” that makes your resolve crumble.
“Yeah.” You finally whisper back.
“You wanna go look at the stars?” He asks in the same quiet tone. You finally turn, almost rolling over on to his hand that’s splayed out on the sheets. He is looking at you, you note.
“Yeah.”
You aren’t sure what you’re doing, knowing what was said that night, but there’s some part of you that’s aching to be closer to him. To reassure yourself that you were still friends and maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of a chance.
And that was the part that was winning out.
“Grab a jacket.” He whispers as you slip your shoes on. You slip the jacket around your shoulders, bracing yourself for the cold you know you’ll be stepping out into. You are both quiet walking down the stairs, catching sight of the lights on under both sets of doors. He gently opens the door, holding it open for you. “After you.”
You snort, stepping out into the chilly air of the night. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
“You wanna go for a walk by the lake?” He asks, shutting the door behind you.
“Yeah, sure, why not.”
The night is quiet, the stars twinkling overhead as the two of you walk.
“Orion was my favorite constellation growing up, probably because it was the only one I could recognize.”
You’re not sure why you’re sharing the information with him, knowing you originally told yourself you’d keep your distance from him.
He smiles at you. “It was one of the first ones I learned in Boy Scouts.”
“You seem the Boy Scouts type.”
He snorts. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
You shrug one of your shoulders. “It’s just a neutral thing, I think.”
He nods. “Hey, thanks for coming with us on the trip. It was fun to have you around.”
You swallow at the words, wanting to tell him he was a liar and he knew it.
Instead you shrug again. “You know me, just happy to be invited.”
“I think it’s good for me to be surrounded by good people you know? Especially before I leave in a few months.”
You hum, not trusting your voice.
Good people. He meant Tommy. Tommy and Madison. Tommy and Madison and Bailey. Tommy and Madison and Bailey and yes, even Eli.
You wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking he meant you.
“Can I admit something?” he says, voice suddenly small. It catches your attention, causing you to look up at him.
“Of course.” You whisper, stopping to watch him.
“Is it weird to admit that I’m scared?” He asks, voice a little breathless.
“Scared... of me?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.
“No. No!″ He almost shouts, holding his hands out. “God no, never of you. I’m- It’s gonna sound so stupid.”
“It won’t.” You say firmly.
“I’m terrified of my future. I- I know I was the one who choose it but- what if I’m not good enough? What if-” He ducks his head, sucking in a breath. “What if this is it? What if this is the best I’m ever gonna get?”
The wind feels knocked from your chest as you stumble forward, reaching out for him. “Bradley.” You whisper, taking his hand. “Bradley, no.”
His shrugs, eyes watering. “I’m just scared.”
You offer him a sad smile squeezing his hand. “I think- I think it’s okay to be scared. You’re doing something scary! Going after your dreams is the most terrifying thing in the world, but if you didn’t, if you never knew, you’d always wonder what if.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, not meeting your eye. “Thanks Sunshine.”
“Bradley, you deserve the whole world. You are going to accomplish so much and the rest of us are just lucky to know you and your greatness. We’re all better for knowing you.”
He lets out a choked chuckle, pulling you into a hug before you can even protest. His grip is tight around you and you hesitantly reach up, wrapping your arms around his larger frame.
You frown into his jacket as you stand there, knowing in your heart that no matter how Bradley Bradshaw feels about you, you will always love him.
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#flight risk
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I watched under the red hood recently so maybe 🔥 + Jason in it?
nice 😃
first of all, in order to discuse this, I need to establish the Really Big Changes between that movie and comics canon because... yeah, they're huge lol.
in the comics, Bruce and Jason's relationship had been fracturing in his last days as robin, because Bruce suspect Jason of pushing a rapist with diplomatic immunity from a balcony (the comic leaves this ambiguous. I prefer it this way). with terrible timing, Jason finds out that the mother that raised him wasn't his biological mother, so he sets out on a search for new family. after a whole international quest, he finds her... and she gives him up to the Joker in order to cover her *check's notes* embezzling crimes. the rest is history.
Jason is not brought back by the Lazarus Pit (and Ra's certainly wanted nothing to do with him lol). he awakes one day on his coffin because of comic-typical nonsense (alternate version of superman punched the world?? and it "set things right" because Jason was never "meant" to die). he digs his way out, gets hit by a car, gets taken to a hospital, stays in a comma, awakens but ~catatonic, escapes and wanders the streets stealing and sharing food with the homeless... then a league ally finds him, Talia al Ghul is informed, and takes Jason under her wing. when he's not healing fast enough for Ra's tastes and he wants to take Jason a way to the farm, Talia throws him into the Pit without Ra's permision.
in their final confrontation, Bruce is far less calm and doesn't throw the batarang to Jason's hand: he throws it to his neck, with potential lethal force, to fully stop him. then the Joker blows things up. it's kind of implied that Jason dies, but maybe the same magic (there's a purple light thingy?) took effect, so he eventually returns to annoy Dick in New York and briefly turn into a tentacled monster. that's not relevant here though.
oh, and Black Mask didn't need to free the Joker. he was already chilling in some amusement park, as he does. while Batman did... eh. who knows.
there are other, less important changes. because comics are weird and quirky and inherently hard to adapt in a way general audiences will take seriously. a very funny one is that the assassin Jason kills when he and Bruce are fighting side by side calls himself Captain Nazi.
okay so. I have MIXED FEELINGS about the film, precisely because of these changes (well, minus the Captain Nazi one, but that is REALLY funny of Jason, imo). I like it a lot... but I'm also bummed it removes Talia's importance... and that it backs the post-death narrative pushed by DC that Jason died because he was "reckless"/eagerly violent as Robin... the changes pertaining Bruce... and most of all, Jason's resurrection (again, I get it's comics-weird. But I really like the digging-out-of-one's-grave's motif!! and it could've easily been left ambiguous - the characters in the comics have no idea of why Jason came back, so. it could remain a mystery!).
and as I said, re: Bruce. sometimes I'm annoyed because the changes seem designed to make Bruce seem less... objectionable lol. other times I'm curious because the changes because they suggest a very different person in some key ways that spark my imagination in fic-related ways. depends on the day!
but overall it's a good film and a more than competent adaptation, that REALLY showcases my perfect son who never did anything wrong in his life xD, that portrays him as competent (very important to me), and that hits just the right spot when it comes to all my Jason and Bruce-Jason FEELS. and teeny tiny robin!Jason was adorable.
(I'm very happy the fandom outgrew its phase of fancasting Jensen Ackles as Jason though. what a travesty).
Send Me a 🔥+ a Topic, and I’ll Tell You My Honest Opinion About It
#thank you!!!#and pls let me know what you thought about the film#talking to the void#my thoughts#replies#staliaofatreides#dc#dc comics#dcau#dc thoughts#batman: under the red hood#jason todd#bruce wayne
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Shut up and drive
AN: My darling @krissy25 asked for reader watching Bucky give Steve road-head, so I thought I would continue with our trio from ‘In the middle of the night’.
Un-beta'd so probably commas all over the shop. Dividers by @firefly-graphics, moodboard and banner by me
Main Master list | Challenge Master list
Summary: The morning after the night before, and you and the supersoldiers have hit the road. A silly conversation between you and Bucky leads to him demonstrating one of the ways he keeps Steve frustration-free while on the move.
Relationship: Stucky x Agent Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
CW: Cheeky Bucky, Needy Steve, Slight Dom Steve, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Implied P in V Sex, Implied future blow jobs
You relaxed against the cushions of the back seat of the car as it sped down the near empty road. Despite the fact that you’d taken part in a lot of ‘acrobatics’ last night, you were surprisingly refreshed and ache free. You sighed in contentment and heard the creak of the leather passenger seat as Bucky turned to look at you.
“You enjoying yourself back there, doll? You look like the cat that got the cream.”
You snorted at his unintentional double-entendre.
“Bucky!”
“Well you did get a lot of it.”
You couldn’t stop your giggle, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.
“Sorry, Bucky. Did I steal your share?” Your voice was laced with faux-concern.
“I’m sure I’ll live.” You enjoyed your banter with Bucky, even before the shift in your relationship.
Steve tutted from the driver’s seat. “Do you two have to be so immature?” You knew it was a front, you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. You leaned forward and ruffled his hair.
“Aaaawww, is Stevie feeling a little frustrated this morning?”
“He shouldn’t be! Punk got more than enough last night. But then again…..” he brought his hand up to his mouth as though he was about to spill a big secret, but then stage-whispered to you. “His record is 12 times in one night. He slept for almost two days afterwards, though.”
“Buck! We don’t want to scare her.”
“Don’t worry, Cap. You haven’t. I get tired, I just tag in my partner, right Bucky?”
The brunet gave you a mischievous smile.
“What if we’re both working you, doll?”
Tilting your head to the side, you pressed your index finger up to your lips in thought.
“Then I guess I’d just expire in the best way possible. ‘Fucked to death by supersoldier lovers.’ That’s what the headline would say. I’d be the envy of folk the world over.”
You all started laughing then, and you couldn’t remember when you’d last felt so carefree. You knew reality would kick in at some point, but for now it was just the three of you and the open road. And it gave you time to indulge in your latest hobby; teasing Steve. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so much fun, but it probably had something to do with the way he blushed so prettily and shifted in embarrassment, until he finally snapped and became all assertive.
“So, Bucky… tell me. How often have you had to…umm… ‘help’ Stevie out in unusual places. I’m guessing it happens a lot if he’s constantly horny?”
“I’m right here, you know!”
“Ssh, Steve. Doll-face asked me a question. You concentrate on driving and not crashing.”
Steve let out a harrumph, but you knew he wasn’t really put out.
“So… let me think. To be honest it’s happened a few times. In the quinjet… in Tony’s lab… hell, in a half collapsed building at the end of a battle…”
You chuckled as you watched the blush creep further and further up the back of Steve’s neck at Bucky’s words.
“Even given him road-head on more than one occasion.”
You looked at Bucky, askance.
“Road-head?”
Bucky had his trade-mark shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yeah, punk here loves the thrill of getting his cock sucked while driving.”
“Bucky…” There was tension in Steve’s voice, like he was trying to hold himself back from either punching his boyfriend, kissing him or both. Bucky shifted his attention from you to Steve and, if it was at all possible, his grin got even wider.
“Well, would you look at that? Lil’ Stevie appears to be wanting to put on a demonstration right here and now.”
You peaked over Steve’s shoulder, to gaze upon the impressive bulge inside his pants.
“Wow, it doesn’t take a lot to get you going, does it? You gonna let Bucky give me a demonstration?”
You scratched your nails into the short hairs at the base of his skull causing his eyelids to flutter momentarily and a salacious moan to leave his mouth.
“Please…” The word tumbled from his lips, full of desire, and he shifted in his seat.
Another chuckle emanated from Bucky as he leant across and started to work the fastening on Steve’s pants.
“What you’re gonna see here doll, is Stevie starting off all sweet and needy, but I guarantee by the time he cums he will have gone feral.”
Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, making the leather cover creak, as Bucky pulled out his erect cock and licked his own lips in anticipation.
“Enjoy the show, doll.” Bucky winked at you, before leaning forward into Steve’s lap. You shuffled in your seat to get a better view, and what a view it was.
Last night the two supersoldiers had been more focused on you than each other. Yes, they’d kissed and touched each other during your threeway romp, but this was much more intimate. Bucky’s right hand was gripped around the base of Steve’s cock, gently jerking it. His plump, pink lips were suckling around the tip, his tongue swirling around to coat it in saliva. Steve’s breath had picked up, and he was staring ahead out the windshield of the car, as if by not looking at what Bucky was doing to him he could maintain some semblance of control.
However, when Bucky inched down Steve’s length, engulfing him fully, the blond couldn’t help but react. He dropped one hand from the steering wheel to tangle in his boyfriend's hair, and let out a sigh.
“Bucky…BuckyBuckyBucky. Love your mouth, sweetheart. God! Feel so good. You’re so good…”
For a moment you felt as though you were intruding, but then Steve let go of Bucky’s hair to reach back, take hold of your hand, and place it where his had been. You heard Bucky moan as your slimmer fingers twisted in his locks and a wave of heat washed over you.
“Feel what he’s doing, doll. He might go on and on about how needy I am, how, it’s me who’s constantly wanting him, but what he doesn’t say is how much he loves doing this. He’s a slut for my cock, always wanting to feel it. Always desperate to please me and make me cum. Fuck! Just like that, honey.”
You couldn’t tear your gaze away, watching how Bucky bobbed up and down Steve’s full length without any issue, an amazing feat considering how much he was working with. And it was clear that Bucky loved doing this; his own free hand was rubbing against his own pants, massaging his cock through the fabric, and he kept letting out little moans and whines.
It had almost slipped your mind that Steve was somehow still driving through all of this, but then he suddenly pulled off the road, onto the dirt and gravel at the side. His large hand came down over yours on Bucky’s head and he started to thrust his own hips up.
“Gonna cum, Buck. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. And you’re gonna take it all for me, ain’tcha?”
The ache between your legs had intensified, and you were sure even your pants were going to be sodden, having a front row seat to this pornographic show. Bucky let out a garbled noise, and Steve came with a shout, his hips locked in an upward position, his head leaning back on the head rest. Your gaze flicked back and forth between his face, with its expression of ecstasy, and his lap, where you could see Bucky, eyes closed, swallowing down all the cum being pumped into his throat, with a look of pure bliss.
For a moment, the loudest sound was that of Steve’s breathing, combined with the car engine idling. You were running your fingers through both of the guys’ hair, gently petting them as they recovered. When Bucky finally let Steve’s cock go, he came back up with a grin on his face. Turning in his seat he gripped your chin with his right hand, drawing you to him for a brief, filthy kiss, before turning to kiss his boyfriend, which you really couldn’t complain about. But you were now horribly aroused, and rubbed your thighs together to relieve some pressure.
“Looks like you and Buck are both in a situation now, eh sweetheart?”
Steve’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, and you felt heat spreading up into your cheeks under his gaze.
“And I know just what to do about it, punk.”
You were momentarily confused until Bucky moved. He opened his door, hopped out and then opened the rear door next to, slid in and slammed it closed.
If you’d been slightly disappointed by the briefness of your previous kiss, there was nothing to worry about for this next one. It was though Bucky was trying to consume you. You were both panting when he broke the kiss, and you surprised yourself with the little mewl of want that passed your kiss swollen lips.
“What are you planning, jerk?” Steve had twisted in his seat, looking at the pair of you with a raised brow.
Bucky pulled you to straddle his lap and spoke over your shoulder.
“Shut up and drive, pal. I’m gonna sort out our girl, and then when we swap drivers at the next rest stop you can taste her on me when you return the road-head favour.”
Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958
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Some Christian Borle works that I hope vox fans will know about !!
I assume that there are many hazbin fans who are discovering CBorle or my tiktok has just been fueling this misunderstanding. Anyway, live laugh Christian Borle
Spamalot (OBC) - Historian/Prince Herbert/others
He is so funny in this, especially as Prince Herbert and not-dead-yet Fred. Being ragdolled and shaken around by the king as Prince Herbert or insulting Sir Robin with his tambourine as a minstrel
Legally Blonde (OBC) - Emmett Forrest
I know this is one of his most iconic roles but Emmett deserves more love literally the sweetest character and CBorle played as him so well. His "little miss woods comma Elle" AH and the little things that makes Emmett RAHHHHH
Some Like it Hot (OBC) - Joe/Josephine/Kip
Did you know that he does most of this show IN HEELS. Not only that, TAP DANCING IN HEELS like are you kidding. He also wrote some lines for the show! I love the whole show in general, it is so funny and so real in how they talk about identity and how you present yourself. I can write a whole essay but that'll be for another day. I love this show with all my heart
Little Shop of Horrors (2019 off-bway revival) - Orin/others
Speaking of heels, he too was in heels for this production, but much much less than SLiH. Still, the talent is there. Especially when he plays all the different characters, from a crazy dentist like Orin to Skip Snip. He is also super unhinged and likes to drag out his death as Orin to make the audience laugh. I recommend watching the tiny desk concert first if you are not familiar
Thoroughly Modern Millie (Replacement) - Jimmy Smith
There's not much for this show, just a video of him singing What do I need with love. I liked his singing in this and the small details he does during this song to show that Jimmy has fallen for Millie is cute
Mary Poppins (Replacement) - Bert
He may claim that he was the worst tap dancing Bert but he was still a champ for learning all that choreo and even going upside down in step in time. Another one with crumbs :" Gosh what I would give for a boot cuz rn its just the disney on Bway videos and jolly holiday. He did it with Laura Michelle Kelly :)
Me and My Girl (New York City Centre) - Bill Snibson
He did this show with Laura Michelle Kelly too :))) AND THE SHOW IS SO FUNNY it's so underrated and has very funny lines. Someone said that it was basically 2 hours of CBorle being silly. I also love his and Laura Michelle Kelly's dynamics as Bill and Sally. Speaking of this couple, Bill and Sally are literally as healthy as Emmett and Elle and i love that for them
Peter and the Starcatcher (OBC) - Blackstache
Literally my favourite show of his. His blackstache is so animated and silly I love him. And his agility sliding over the trunk and running around. His moments in Mermaid Outta Me ༼;´༎ຶ ༎ຶ༽ silly lil guy. Similarly to Orin, he likes to drag out his hand pain to make the audience laugh. AND HIS CURLS omg this era of CBorle hair is the best imo. And he won his first tony for it! That goes to show something about his portrayal of Captain Hook and how it needs more love !!!!!
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (OBC) - Willy Wonka
A lot of people seem to see this role as the role he went bald for. We joke about Borled Egg a lot but he brought such beautiful unhingeness to this role that really brought out the joy of this show.
Footloose (The Muny) - Director
He also directs! Though there is no boot for this production, he talks about his experience directing and working on the show in some interviews and a reunion zoom call. The cast talks about how he allows them to be free in their portrayal of the characters while giving advice and proper directions, especially since he was in Footloose for tour and bway. I would have loved to watch it since footloose is a show I like too. NaTasha Yvette Williams is also in this!
Anyway, he has done a lot more shows, he's been in the industry for nearly 30 years so he has a lot under his belt and I wish he wasn't just reduced to Vox's VA, Marvin or Shakespeare. He's a brilliant actor with impeccable comedic timing and seriousness. He's not a two-time Tony award winner for nothing!
#tbh i also didnt know a few until recently i just deep dived super hard#but watching these shows i love them so much not just CBorle but the whole cast#SLIH and Little shop and peter#theyre so good#me and my girl is rly funny for a musical from 1937#christian borle#hazbin hotel vox#everytime i see a vox pfp ill be like U KBOW OF CHRISTIAN BORLE
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