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maybe-theres-hope · 3 years ago

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Tarlos Fic - Dinner Date

3.2k | T | Warnings: Blood, Injuries (mostly minor) | Contains: Judd/Carlos friendship, Tarlos being perfect, blue Camaro (rip)

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“So, what are your plans for the night?” Nancy asked as they exited the ambulance, their shift nearly over as long as the bell didn’t go off in the next ten minutes.

TK smiled to himself for a moment before he spoke. “Well, Carlos is taking me to Jeffrey’s, so…”

“Holy mother,” Nancy breathed, looking at him with obvious envy. “Do you guys have a ten year anniversary or something coming up? Did he get some kind of commendation at work? Because I know your last one was like a month ago, so.”

“No, no anniversary, that’s in a couple of months. And its three years, Nance.” He chose to ignore her muttering about their mushiness ‘aging me ten years’. “And nothing from work that I know of. Maybe he just loves me?” TK couldn’t stop grinning while they stocked the bus and readied for the handover.

“He loves you crap ton! Their wagyu strip steak is a hundred and twenty-five dollars!” Nancy had her phone out, obviously googling the menu.

“Well at least we’ll save money on wine,” TK said with a chuckle.

“I’ve heard of the place by reputation but like, dude, who ever gets the chance to actually go there?”

“TK it seems,” Tommy cut in. “Why don’t you go on? We got it here and you’re gonna need at least an hour to pick out an outfit.”

“And gel your hair. You and your dad are way more alike than you want to admit,” Nancy added with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You sure, Cap? I can stay and help?”

“I’m sure, kiddo. Go get dolled up for your man. Eat a few bites for us, yeah?” Tommy yelled at his retreating figure. She and Nancy looked at each other with grins as they caught the little skip in his step.

“So, what do you think the occasion is?”

Tommy looked back at Nancy with a gleam in her eye. “I can wager a guess, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Nancy just gave her a look and went back to restocking.

Around 8 p.m., Owen was sitting in his office toying with his phone in his hand, smiling at his last text exchange.

we’re just leaving the house now, wish me luck!

you’re not gonna need it, kid :)

“Not if I know my son anyway,” Owen said aloud to the empty room. He wondered if it’d happened yet. No incoherent string of emoji’s from TK yet, so he doubted it.

He was shoving the phone back into his pocket with the bell went off.

“Alright guys,” Owen said into the mic from the Captain’s chair. “Dispatch says three vehicles involved, two still on the road and one went over the side into the ravine. Police are on their way but we’ll probably beat ‘em there. Strickland, Marwani, soon as we get there I want you to harness up and get down in that ravine. Judd, you too. You’ll be in command down there and I’ll stay up top with the other two vehicles. Everybody else you’re with me, got it?”

A chorus of “Copy that, Cap,” and suddenly they were on the scene.

“Marjan, Paul, we’re goin’ down!” Judd called to them as the rest of the crew went over to the silver Prius and black Mazda that were crumpled in the middle of the two-lane highway. Judd wasn’t a prayin’ man, but he sent up a little something to the man upstairs that this went their way. It looked bad.

Paul arrived at his side first, strapped into his gear. “Marjan’s grabbing the bag from the truck, she’s coming.”

“Alright. We’ll go down this way,” Judd said, pointing to a safe-ish stretch of hillside. “Can’t see the other car from here but dispatch said bystanders saw it go over. Probably just hidden in the trees.”

“Okay guys, let’s do this!” Marjan called, harnessed and carrying the medical bag and a backboard. “TK’s gonna be sad he missed this. Medical doesn’t get to harness up a lot and I know he loved it. He coulda helped.”

“Nah, he’s got better things tonight. Carlos was takin’ him to Jeffrey’s,” Paul said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ohh, fancy,” Marjan said with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”

They’d reached the bottom and were starting to look through the brush and low-hanging trees for a vehicle.

“Don’t know,” Paul answered. “But I think Cap’s in on it somehow.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Judd cut in as he whacked a few branches out of his way. “Carlos came by the station a few weeks ago, and they sat up in Cap’s office for an hour before he left grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Hey guys, look!” Marjan called from a few yards to the left. The other two went to her position and saw what she’d found. A track in the underbrush where it had been torn at and flattened. “Think this is the place.”

“Let’s go,” said Judd. They followed the path through the brush for a couple of yards before they caught sight of it: taillights. “Alright, Marjan you go on the passenger side, I got the driver. Paul you see if you can clear some of that brush off the back in case the doors are jammed and we gotta get ‘em out that’a way.”

Visibility was still low despite the lights of the car and their flashlights, but as they approached they saw the car wrapped around the trunk of a tree on the passenger side. “I don’t know if I can get in there, Judd, but I’ll try,” Marjan said as she broke out into a jog.

“Wait!” Paul cried. Judd looked over at him, and he would have said such a thing couldn’t happen to a calm and collected person like Paul, but his face had gone ashen. “That’s Carlos’s car,” he said on a breath.

“What?” In the dark, now that he was really looking, he could see they were coming up on—what used to be—a blue Camaro.

“I’m sure of it. TK bullied him into putting that sticker on the back because he said it was too pristine and it needed personality.” He shone his flashlight at the rear bumper and sure enough, there was a SXSW sticker half ripped off from the path the car had taken to get there.

“Come on,” Judd said, heart rate kicking up.

“Should we call Cap?” Paul asked.

“No, we stay down here and do our jobs, and he stays up there and does his. We’ll get ‘em.” His voice sounded numb even to his own ears, but he was determined.

“They were on their way to dinner,” Paul said lowly.

“Yeah, probably takin’ the backroads to avoid traffic,” Judd said, shaking his head. Fate was hell sometimes.

When they reached the car, Marjan was yelling. “TK! TK can you hear me?” She turned to Judd. “I can’t get in there. The tree trunk is halfway into the car, probably pinning him to the console. He’s unresponsive.” Her face was also pale, but determined.

Judd went to the driver’s side and saw Carlos, head hanging to the side facing the broken window. He tried the door as he called out. “Carlos? Hey Carlos, come on buddy. Can you hear me?” The door wouldn’t budge; Judd figured the car had rolled a couple of times coming down the hill, crumpling it like a tin can. Then he heard a soft groan.

He looked up, and one of Carlos’s eyes was trying to open. The other was swollen shut, where he’d probably hit his head on the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. Half his face had burn marks from it.

“Hey, hey Carlos, look at me, that’s it.” That one eye tracked around before it landed on Judd, drawn to the light of the flashlight on his helmet. “Hey man. We’re gonna get you out okay? Now, can you move your fingers and toes for me?” Judd stuck his head into the window to see down in the floor boards. “Alright, likely no spinal damage. How’s your head?”

“Hurts. Shoulder, too.” His voice was barely audible.

“Okay, it looks like you dislocated it,” Judd said as he prodded his left shoulder. “I don’t see anything broken but we’ll have to get you out to determine that.”

“TK—“ a wheeze, “TK…first. Been out…a while.”

Judd peered over to the passenger side, where TK was shoved almost fully into the center console, head laid back on the headrest and his face covered in blood. Marjan and Paul were still hard at work outside trying to clear a path into the car.

“We can’t get to his side just yet, but we can get you out first and then we’ll be able to pull him out this way, okay? We wanna focus on you right now.”

“Alive.”

“Yeah, you’re alive, Carlos. You’re not gonna leave us yet,” he said as he assessed the door panels where they could cut through with the saws they brought.

“No. TK. Weak, but…alive,” Carlos breathed out, coughing through the end.

“We’ll make sure he’s alive, okay?” Judd said, trying not to lose his professionalism at this whole messed up situation.

“He is.” Judd stopped looking around and looked back at Carlos. The man raised his right hand just as much as he was able, showing where he had two fingers on TK’s radial pulse.

“Good, that’s good Carlos,” Judd assured him. That meant Carlos had had some minutes of consciousness after the accident before they showed up. “Was he talking at all? After you hit the tree?”

“Little. Minutes, maybe.”

“That’s good, that’ll help. Alright Carlos, we’re gonna get this door off so I’m gonna cover you with this while we do okay?” Judd waited for a small nod before he covered Carlos’s face and torso with his own turnout coat.

After an agonizing four minutes, the door popped off in a shower of metal and broken glass. Judd removed the coat and went back in to assess. “Carlos? How you doin’?”

“Tired. But won’t…sleep. Promise. That’s bad.”

“You learn a few things from your Paramedic boyfriend?” Judd said with a watery smile.

“Mmm.”

“Judd, I got the back cleared. Maybe we can get in there to at least check TK’s vitals,” Paul informed them.

“Get on it, I’ma try to get Carlos here out onto this backboard. Marjan, radio for another backboard and have two RA’s ready to go topside!”

“Copy that!” Judd had to admire those two. They never let their professionalism slip too far, though he could see they were worried sick. He could relate. He wouldn’t relax until both of the boys were back up the hill and on the way to the hospital.

From the looks of things, maybe not even then. But he had hope.

“Alright, Carlos, I’m gonna grab your legs and behind your shoulders here and pull you out, okay? It’s gonna hurt like hell, but it’ll be quick.”

“Wait.”

Judd stopped cold.

“Left…pocket. Please.”

“You want me to get at your left pocket?” A nod. “Alright, hang on.”

Judd carefully shifted Carlos’s leg so he could reach into his slacks, which had probably been part of a very nice suit at the beginning of the night. His fingers searched until they hit a small bump, an object no bigger than a baseball, soft velvet over a hard shell. He sucked his lips between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pulled it free in his hand.

“Keep it…safe…for me?”

Judd looked down at the little black box for a moment, then clutched it tight in his hand before transferring it one of the innermost pockets of his turnout.

“Of course, man. I will guard this with my life.” He looked up and saw Marjan coming back with another backboard. “Alright, buddy. It’s go time.”

Carlos gave a weak nod and winced when Judd started to pull.

“Welcome back, man. You had us worried there for a bit.”

Carlos opened his good eye to see Judd sitting at his bedside, smiling softly. It took a moment to remember where he was. Hospital. Accident. Tree.

“TK—“

“Is fine. Banged up and will need crutches for a few weeks, not to mention a killer headache with no meds, but he’s fine. All things considered.”

“Where is he?”

“On his way, so you just stay put, okay? You’re pretty banged up, too, ya’know.”

Carlos shifted a bit and winced. His left arm was in a sling, his head bandaged over his left eye, and his right side hurt like hell.

“Broken rib when the tree went into TK’s door, door went into TK, TK went into the console, then the console went into you. He’s got a femoral fracture in his right leg but like I said, all things considered, you’re both pretty well off for how far you fell and probably rolled.”

“Yeah, he said his leg had gone numb but he could still move his toes. He made sense for about five minutes, then started talking all jumbled, then went quiet. I uh…freaked out a bit after that. I thought he had…” Carlos trailed off, looking haunted.

“Yeah, and you kept your fingers on his pulse that whole time. What you were able to tell us at the scene helped us treat him. You did good, Carlos.”

“Not good enough to swerve in time,” he said.

“Not your fault. And don’t you dare go thinkin’ it is. I don’t wanna hear it, Carlos,” Judd said in what TK called his Dad Voice. Stern and no room for argument. Carlos just nodded.

“And uh, hey. I been waitin’ to give this back to you.” Judd stood and walked over to the bed, holding out a tiny black box. Carlos took it and cradled it against his chest. “It better be a nice one, cuz I about had a heart attack while I was showerin’ thinkin’ someone was gonna come get my pile a’clothes and take ‘em to the laundry while I was gone.”

“You didn’t open it?”

“Nah, I figure the big reveal? TK deserves that all to himself.”

“Owen’s seen it,” Carlos countered, smirking.

“Uh huh. He approve?”

Carlos laughed. “He whistled and said I spent too much.”

“To impress the Cap it must be a lot,” Judd said with a small whistle of his own.

“Well, what was it Michael Scott said? Three years’ salary?”

Judd’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and Carlos laughed harder before wincing again at his broken rib. “I’m kidding, Judd. But I can tell you, no matter the cost, TK deserves the best and that’s what I hope I got.”

“You gonna make another reservation? Soon as y’all get back into fightin’ shape?”

Carlos looked down at the box again for a moment, contemplating. “I…don’t think so.”

Judd had a confused expression on his face but at that moment, a nurse was wheeling TK into the room, followed by most of the 126. Carlos’s face lit up like starlight at the sight of him.

“Hey, babe,” TK said with a smile. His leg was in a full cast, so the nurse was careful in maneuvering him around to Carlos’s bedside.

“Hey, I feel like you should be the one in bed! Why are you out and about?”

“Because you were still asleep and he’s an absolute menace. We made multiple apologies to the staff on his behalf for the last hour,” Owen said as he walked into the room behind his crew. “He’s a stubborn little shit. Always has been, always will be. You sure you’re up for that?” He asked knowingly. TK was still looking at Carlos, blushing at his dad’s ribbing. Carlos met his eyes and said, “Yes.” He blushed more.

“In fact,” Carlos continued. “I’m ready to get started. I’ve waited too long anyway. I mean, how many times do you and I have to beat death before I get the nerve to do this?” He said, looking into TK’s beautiful eyes which were looking confused.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“Look, I’m sorry this didn’t go how I planned. And I’m sorry I can’t get down on one knee right now, but. I hope you love me enough not to mind.” He lifted his good arm, his hand holding out the box. “A little help, Judd?”

“It’d be an honor,” the man said before leaning in and opening the box, since Carlos only had one good arm.

At the sight of the contents of the box, TK’s eyes went as big as saucers. Surprise was written clearly over every inch of his features, which were all still beautiful even scarred and stitched up as they were at the moment. God, Carlos loved this man so much.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, you are the love of my life. I tried so many different scenarios in my head of how this speech would go, before I just said screw it, I’ll speak from the heart. You’re kind, funny, sexy, sweet, and everything in between. You can’t boil water and you absolutely can’t properly separate laundry. I have a dozen pink shirts as proof of that.” At this, the gathered group chuckled and TK went bright red. “Ah, but you also know just how to ease the tension from a long day just by hugging me on the doorstep. And I can always count on you to be there for me when the world gets too much, when what we see out there creeps in too far. And I want you to know, that I want to be that for you too, for the rest of our lives. So, TK. Will you marry me?”

The room was silent, apart from the hum and beeps of the machines. Everyone on the edge of their proverbial seats, but no one having any doubt to the outcome.

“Oh, my God! Of course I’ll marry you! Yes, yes! Yes!” The last was said through TK’s fingers covering his red face, hiding the few tears that had started to fall. He held out his left hand to Carlos, who Judd had kindly helped by removing the ring from its box and handing it back to him. He slid it over TK’s finger, smiling like an idiot the whole time, barely registering the whoops and hollers of the 126 throughout the room.

He only had eyes for TK.

“I love you,” TK breathed through his happy tears.

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

“Oh, my God, dude, were you seriously surprised?” Nancy asked incredulously once the commotion had died down.

“Well…yeah? I didn’t expect this at all,” TK said, looking sheepish.

“TK…my dude…he was taking you to Jeffrey’s! How could you not know?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter and TK ducked his head again. Carlos reached out and touched his chin, catching his eyes again.

There was nothing but love there.

CLEARLY every Tarlos fic I write has to have a proposal in it *shrug emoji*

Also I wrote this in like an hour after I had a dream so please excuse any typos I didn’t catch!

Please reblog if you liked it! I would really really appreciate it :) Thank you for reading!

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #brooke writes

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Flame of a Candle

A/N: The wonderful @lupins-sweater requested a Remus fic where the reader has a candle addiction and let me tell you, I fell in love. Also, two fics in one night! Apologies to my taglist, but I couldn't stop writing and I had to post it. I will be getting to my other requests this week as well as finishing my Draco Malfoy series. As always, I hope you enjoy, it’s pure fluff! Also, the candle scents I mention are real candle scents from the ones I have in my room (they’re all inspired by books!).

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food.

Word count: 1.8k

It was not your fault.

It absolutely was not your fault that the newest shop on the high street was an independent candle store.

And it wasn’t your fault that instead of entering the bakery like you had planned, you walked into the candle shop.

It also wasn’t your fault that you left the shop with a bag full of candles.

You made it to the bakery though, grabbing everything on your list. Bread, teacakes, vanilla slices for Remus. The visit to the new candle shop, simply a small stop on the way.

You would usually make this trip with Remus; his hand gripping yours tightly as you peeked in the windows of all the shops. But you left him bed in this time, snoring away, completely oblivious to the world. This past full moon had been exceptionally rough; he came back with larger cuts and bruises that had you silently crying as you patched him up. It never did get any easier to see the added injuries after a full moon.

The day is beginning to brighten as you return to the home you shared with Remus. The garden path lined with pansies and marigolds, adding a cheery disposition to the ivy-covered cottage you called home.

Remus would be soon awake, so you head to the kitchen to put his vanilla slices in the fridge before adding your new candles to the ever-growing collection that had slowly filled three cupboards with differing size jars and tins.

Your placing the final glass jar candle in the cupboard when you hear his footsteps creaking on the stairs and his raspy voice calling out.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Remus questions; his voice still gravelly with sleep.

It had been a week since the last full moon, and he was still catching up with missed hours. He was awoke once as he reached out for you in his sleep and found your side of the bed empty; it worried him for a minute but then he realised that you would be in town so sleep quickly overtook him again. He stirred back awake to the sound of the closing cupboard door; his senses still sensitive after the change, hearing and smelling everything within a small distance.

The hesitation before your answer has his curiosity piqued as he steps into the kitchen to see you closing a cupboard door.

“Nothing, dear!” Your voice chimes.

He chuckles, “You really are the worst liar.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I am an excellent liar �� so good in fact that MI6 are thinking of hiring me.”

“(Y/N), I love you, but yes, you’re the worst liar.”

“I’m hurt, Remus. Truly, deeply hurt.” You gasp, holding a hand to your heart.

“Stop deflecting,” He laughs, “What were you doing that’s so secretive?”

You fiddle with your fingers, “So I went into town to go the bakery,”

“Is that it?”

You shake your head, “Well I got somewhat waylaid on the way to the bakery.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms, “Now you’ve got my attention.”

“There’s a new shop that’s opened on the high street; what used to be the bridal shop.”

“Put me out of my misery – what type of shop is it?”

“A candle shop.”

A slow smile breaks over his face, “How many did you buy?”

“Around ten or so.”

“Ten? (Y/N), sweetheart, we have cupboards full of candles.”

“I know but let me show you them! They smell so good!”

“Of course, but I need to know – did you go to the bakery?”

“What do you take me for? I could never deprive you of your vanilla slices. They’re in the fridge.” You peck his lips quickly before turning to grab your latest purchases from the cupboard.

Remus heads to the fridge; his stomach growls at the sight of the vanilla slice waiting for him. Healthy breakfast be damned, he turned into a werewolf once a month, if he wanted dessert for breakfast, he was going to have it.

He puts it on a plate before settling down at the dining table.

He isn’t angry – why on earth would he be? Candles bring you joy. He’s a minute away from suggesting you start making them yourself but when you set the candles down the table with such care and look at Remus with such excitement at showing him your haul; all sentient thoughts leave his head and he’s left with the love he feels for you.

Remus takes a bite of his sweet, “Tell me about them, love. What did you buy?”

You grin; the smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. And yeah, Remus’ heart just skipped a beat.

“Oh, Remus! It’s such a cute shop – entirely independent and it has the most positive energy. I could spend all day in there! And the owner is so lovely! So helpful. He looked shocked at the pile of candles I put by the till, but I simply couldn’t not buy anything. You know how I am with candles.”

He chuckles, “Like a moth to a flame. So what new scents do we have?”

You hold up one of the glass jar candles, “Okay… So we have: forget me nots and mountain air; Damascus rose and sweet orange; night jasmine and citrus; coffee and chocolate; lavender and patchouli; burnt sugar and rain; lily of the valley and white musk; sweet peaches and ripe cranberries; crisp apples and rose petals…”

You trail off, putting the lids back on them once Remus had smelt them and had handed them back to you.

Remus points at the final jar, still unopened, “What does that one smell like?”

You avoid his eyes as you murmur, “I had to buy it when the shop owner explained its properties.”

“Oh?”

You nod, unscrewing the lid to the candle, taking a sniff before handing it to Remus. “It holds healing properties.”

“How so?”

“It’s got peppermint oil to ease headaches. As well as lemongrass and vanilla to help relieve stress and tension and promote relaxation. I thought we could give it a try for a couple of nights before you leave for the moon.”

He looks up from his study of the candle, “You bought this for me?”

You nod, shrugging, “It’s something to try. You always try to downplay the headaches you get but I know how much pain you are in and that healing potions do little to help other than make you drowsy. So I thought we could try this; we could light it when we start getting ready for bed. You don’t have to though, Remus. It’s entirely your choice.”

“You did this for me?” He asks, voice shaky.

You frown, “I did. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head, trying to find the right words, “You did absolutely nothing wrong. I just didn’t expect to feel this touched by your candle addiction.”

“You haven’t noticed have you?”

“What?”

“Remus, the majority of my candles all have some healing properties in them. I’ll do anything I can to make the transition that little bit easier whenever we don’t have access to the wolfsbane potion. This is the first time you’ve actively noticed it though.”

He opens his mouth, then quickly closes it. He never realised the meaning of the differing scents – and he should have. He got top grades in Herbology and Potions, but it never clicked with him. He would always comment on the scents; whether they were pleasant or not, but he simply put it down to your love of them.

Remus finally realises what it feels like to love and be loved with just as much passion in return.

“So you don’t have a candle addiction?” He finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You chuckle, “Oh no, I do. I definitely have a candle addiction; it’s been there before I was with you, but you kind of give me a purpose to buy them.”

He passes the jarred candle between his hands, “So you do all of this to try and ease the days before the transition?”

You nod, “I can’t do a lot in those few days, Remus. I’m only useful when you come back and I can help patch you up, but before then, there isn’t very much I can do to help, and it hurts me. I had the idea when I was clearing out my candle cupboards; getting ready for my Christmas collection. I was reading the labels and it suddenly hit me and I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before. But it’s been a while since we were at Hogwarts. Anyway, as I was reading the labels, I realised the healing properties of the oils in the candles. So I bought a Herbology textbook and started brushing up on my knowledge of plants that could help.

“The opening of the new candle shop was pure coincidence, but I had to buy the candle once the owner explained it to me. Your headaches are so bad, and I can never do a lot other than place a cold flannel on your head to lessen the pain but even that doesn’t work a whole lot. So I light the candles, making sure not to overwhelm you with the smell, and they seem to help a little.”

Remus is sure his face is a picture. You were right; in the days before he leaves for the transformation, he suffers with tension headaches from the pain of the moons path and his resistance of the monster within. You could never do a lot; it’s a pain that not even the strongest pain potions could touch. Yet, you tried to find a way to help him. You came up with your own solution.

“I love you.” He states; the only words he’s capable of saying right now.

You smile, it lighting up your face, “I love you too. You’re not mad?”

“How could I be mad? You buy candles with the sole purpose of trying to ease my pain. I’m the furthest thing from mad; I adore you.”

You blink away the tears, “Remus…”

“You’re incredible. First, you love me despite my being a werewolf and having to leave you every month. And then, you try to ease my pain by finding candle combinations that help with headaches and anxiety. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were you, Remus. I fell in love with you in Fifth Year when you spent the entirety of our free period asking me about my favourite books. We were supposed to be revising for our OWLs, but you wanted my attention completely. And you got it.”

He takes a smell of the candle, committing the scent to memory, “I’ve loved you just as long. I saw your battered copy of Wuthering Heights peeking out of your bag and I just knew.”

You point at the candle, “What do you think then?”

He grins, “I think we’re going to have a lot more candles lit around the house.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz

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blushing-starker · 4 years ago

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starker + 9 🥺

Peter's doing it again. Trying to merge with Tony, fuse their bodies together even when the boy knows it isn't possible unless several bones are tossed away. But it's his boyfriend. Peter doesn't stop attempting something unless a freight train knocks him out. There are, unfortunately, no trains in the tower.

He's kidding.

(He's not, Tony's got a pointy elbow digging into a stomach a bit too fleshy for his liking, skinny knees knocking harshly against his own and fluffy hair up to his nose. He loves the kid, he does. But these cuddle sessions are leaving purple bruises every time Pete forgets his strength and squeezes Tony lovingly.

It's cute.

He's dying.)

The screen flashes, sunset orange assaulting them as the Manda(d)lorian blows up what looks like the alien monster Thanos stored his troops in. Peter, a painful blessing, wiggles even closer to provide comfort and chase away horrible memories he's too young to have. It's one of the only reasons Tony's thankful for the age difference; Peter was too busy enjoying his childhood with May and Ben to really focus on the demons that haunted the concrete jungle and, years later, the billionaire's nights.

A stray curl of brown hair goes into Tony's mouth, now Pete's in his lap and Jesus, he needs to exercise with Rhodey if the kid can so easily get him winded. It's ridiculous, Pete can't be much more than a hundred and twenty pounds when he's wet but his chest still heaves like the time he and honey bear had to sprint through the whole MIT campus so they wouldn't be late for a final test.

Maybe he's just tired from playing with Morguna yesterday? Yeah, that makes a lot more sense than his spiderling exhausting Tony so suddenly when just two days ago he pinned Peter to the wall and-

Sniffling. There's sniffling. His shirt is wet, tremors are wracking Peter's blanket covered body and what the hell happened, no enemy is near, nobody died and his boyfriend didn't mention anything bad getting him down at school. Oh god, is his lover hurt? No, no, Friday would have notified Tony. He thinks about all the dates May has drilled into his head and no traumatic anniversary is even close to today.

Pete hides his face against the arc reactor for all of two nanoseconds before Tony is tugging him up like a sorrowful puppy, tucking the boy's knees on either side of his hips so Tony can properly face the creature softly sobbing.

"Hey, hey, baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you wanna shut that off, head to our room and cuddle under your fave blankets? Maybe eat breakfast at midnight? Cuz you know I can wake Sam up and he'll cook that French Toast you like. With the, you're still crying. Oh, hey. I can steal Strange's cape. There's my puppy eyed boy. Tell me what's wrong and I'll snatch it in five minutes."

He'd feel bad about negotiating, but Peter has strictly informed Tony in the past that there's no other way to get him out of his head. A cause and effect type of dynamic helps Peter rationalize; if he explains the situation, Tony can help resolve it. It's a system that always makes things bearable, brings Peter back into reality much more quickly than anything else. Unless there are puppies. Then he can skip away from internal shadows in chase of cute dogs within five seconds.

"It's just," Tony inhales deeply, mentally prepares himself for nightmares, terrible flashbacks or another bully determined to make his baby sad, "don't laugh. I'm serious about this, ok?"

That lower lip wobbles and he's ready to go, body prepared to leap off the building and hunt down any threat that's causing half of his heart to sob like this. "I promise I won't laugh at you. I would never, ever laugh at something that causes you pain, Pete. I promise I'll help in any way I can. Tell me what's wrong."

A slow inhale now so Peter can copy him and explain without being in the verge of an attack. Two, five, ten beats of his heart dedicated to calming the kid. He still burst into tears.

"You're just such a good dad, Tony." Pete crumbles, cries into his neck and what the fuck just happened? How is this his life? Something chirps from the tv and Baby Yoda runs towards his father. The exact same way Morgan ran to Tony last night.

Even if Peter dumps him because of it, he's canceling the fucking show.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, are you drunk? Or high? I'm gonna put you to bed and you will sleep until those neurons wake up again because this is the weirdest thing you've ever done. Come on, no, don't use your super strength, that's cheating."

His sweet, adorable, exhausting boyfriend shakes his head, refuses to move and Tony relents, huffs into warm hair just to be petty. "You're so soft with her, Tony, just like Mando and the baby. And it's really cute, and pure, and wholesome, ok?"

"So you're crying about it at midnight?"

"I'm a sensitive person, Mr Tin Can.

"Jesus, Pep wasn't like this when pregnant," it's a low murmur but Pete still slaps his arm, sends Tony flailing onto the floor with the kid on his lap. Definitely gonna work out with Rhodey.

"You see? This is what you do to me, Peter. Give me a heart attack and bruises. I think we're gonna invade some professor's office to fix an unfair grade and you're crying because of a green puppet."

"Hey! He's more than that, he's adorable." More sniffling. He's getting this kid a therapist.

"FIne, an adorable green puppet. I'm gonna get you waffles and the cape and access to the show if you stop giving me injuries. Now help me up, I'm pretty sure my back can't take this."

Nothing. Not a twitch. Why does Tony always fall for the stubborn ones? "I'll let you braid my hair with Morgan tomorrow, so please assist an old man, oh God." Peter heaves him up, nearly throws Tony into a wall before controlling that superhuman strength and leaving his boyfriend upside down on his shoulder.

Well, at least he isn't crying anymore.

(They watch the next episode with Morgan. They both sob on his chest, mutter something about being a wonderful father and yeah, he's happy they think that, glad he's creating a better legacy than the one he inherited but Tony's 99% sure every Avenger is wiping away tears and there isn't enough Kleenex for all of them when they wail about "pure and wholesome" relationships.

He buys the team Baby Yoda plushies. Just to calm them down.)

(Peter finds one hidden away in the closet and grins because his boyfriend is as much of a dork as he is.)

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #starker #peter x tony #ironspider #my writing #baby yoda #the mandadlorian #the mandalorian #star wars #soft!starker #peters soft #tony is exasperated #morgans also soft #the whole team is soft

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Text

More than just a flirt

John Hancock X OC

Hi hi! My smut hand be rusty but nothing like completely self indulgent OC smut to bring me back :)

So I’m still new to tagging and the like but my Fallout 4 OC is GN but I do insinuate female genitals. Soooo ye *finger guns*

If ya read it I hope a like it!

John was a flirt; that’s all he ever could be. He was charming. He was witty. He was an adventure covered in an oversized trench coat. What bed partners he had came for one thing. The experience. The ability to boast loudly about fuckin’ a ghoul. Like it was a damn badge of honor. His whole life had been a stream of one night stands, and cold beds. That's all he ever could be. That’s all he ever would be.

So then why did he wake up so warm?

Cracking an eye open John reached behind him searching blindly for what was heating his back. His burned fingers were a complete contrast to the soft flesh that greeted him. Slowly, he traces down it, following the flow of the dark muscular till he is holding on to an arm wrapped around his middle.

“Morin’.” His bed partner huffs in his ear. Chestnut curls tickle his cheek as they hug him closer. Whiskey and melon sweet breath bringing back memories of their lips against his. Last night clicks in place. Ophelia. John rose quickly as if burned. This was wrong, they are a friend. A good friend, a trustworthy hardworking leader. They deserved better than-than…

“John?” Ophelia rose uncaring of how the blankets slipped from their arms. Old fabric pooling around their bare waist. They rub at their eyes wearily. “You ok?”

He froze at the edge of the mattress. Long fingers reaching for his pants on a very recognizable floor. He was in Ophelia’s room; or rather this was their hotel room. Damn. He couldn't remember a thing from last night. What did he take? Fuck. He could kick himself. Of all the one-nighters, he wanted to at least remember this one. “Ye doll, sorry...just didn't wanna wake ya.” He smiles, covering his momentary panic.

Ophelia frowned, sleepy hazel eyes narrowing into a familiar piercing glaze. They size him up. Reading him better than anyone ever had before. John couldn’t help but squirm. They looked at him just like when they had first met. Strong jaw tense and their chin high, silently calling out his bullshit.

“I'm fine, honest. Didn't expect to see you is all.” Hancock tried again tugging on his pants.

“In my own room?” His friend snorts, rising to go open the curtains. “Where else would I be?”

John is silent. “I don’t know. Not here-with me.” He keeps his back turned. It was stupid to linger. The warm tingling of their soft body seeps down into the floorboards leaving him aching and cold. Staring at his irradiated hands he could almost cry. Almost- his tear ducts had been scarred shut years ago.

“John?” Ophelia comes within arms reach. He could sense their hand hovering close to his own boney shoulder. They drop it moments later. “You sure you’re ok? You coming down from a bad trip or somethin’?” John chuckles humorlessly. Was he that predictable? Stepping away from them he finishes dressing.

“Ye sunshine. Don’t worry about it. Ain’t my first time and sure as hell won’t be my last.” He tosses out over his shoulder. “I’ll give ya a minute ta get ready and meet you out front.”

If Ophelia had anything to say after that they kept between their pretty little lips.

“I think we should head for shelter.” Ophelia says, looking up from the fallen mutant. Their arms filled with loot. John follows their gaze. His black eyes reflect the eerie shade of green growing in the sky. Rad storm. Looked like a big one too. He lights a cigarette and sticks it between his grimy teeth before helping collect a few more useful items.

“Closest place is probably that supermarket couple o’ klicks back.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. If they hoof it they could probably get there and pick off any ferals before the worst of the storm hit. Ophelia sighs, John knew how much they hated backtracking. The decision was made for them when their pip-boy starts clicking in warning.

“Well-” They frown, throwing a glance back at the ghoul. “You alright with taking two steps forward and ten steps back?” John laughs, tipping his tricorn up to flash them a quick wink.

“Shit doll- You just summed up my life in a sentence.” Offering a hand he helps the sharpshooter over some loose rubble. “You keep an eye out K? I know you’re low on ammo so I’ll take point.” Ophelia nods. Their sniper rifle slung uselessly across their back. Readying his shotgun John follows behind.

The storm hit just when he had expected. Dropping rain and hunks of debris on the two as they struggle to close the supermarket doors against the high winds. Thanks to their combined dumb luck the place was empty. The sentry bots long since destroyed and even a few tins of food were still scattered about the aisle. Ophelia left him to collect some and scout out any hidden lock boxes, leaving him to set up the sleeping bags and start a small fire. Cracking open a room-temperature beer he stares idly into the flicking flames. It grew steadily as he fed it bits of cardboard and kindling. The yellow glow touches his skin and starts to dry his drenched clothes. John contemplates his predicament while he waits for Ophelia to return. The memories of last night slowly start to come back to him in the silence. The tastes, and smells of washed sheets and sweating skin permeate his senses. Ophelia’s sweet mewls and gasps echo around in between his ears. Who gave them the right to make his name sound so sweet?

Shit-He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it. First rule of one-nighters is to live in the moment then walk away clean. But damn if he wasn’t the worst at following rules.

He relives it all the best he can, parts still blurring and blocked, like a scratch in a holotape. But he’ll take it. He’ll take the phantom feel of strong, sure fingers mapping his body. The ghost of a tongue slipping against his. Washing away the taste of mentats and cheap drinks. He can’t remember the last time he had felt so warm and wanted. Made the sudden distance he put between them hurt even more. Fuck him for getting greedy.

John flicks the butt of his cigarette into the roaring flames and searches for another. He grumbles in irritation as each pocket bears no fruit. “Here. I got some.” A familiar red and white box appears in his peripheral. Ophelia’s chipped yellow nail polish clashing with the old carton.

“Thanks, sunshine.” He rasps, taking the box. He can’t bear looking up for the crumbled container. The thought of making eye contact with them while his blood and brains were living in his trousers seemed unholy. Pulling out the least damaged cigarette of the lot he lights it with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Found anything good?”

They shrug, putting a few cans of beans and corn in the growing amount of embers around the fire pit to heat. “Some ammo and super glue. Also-” They grin, forcing him to look up. “Got you a present.” They pull a bottle out from behind their back to brandish it at him triumphantly. He stares. Not at the bottle, but at the way that little pull of muscle brightens up their whole face. That signature gapped tooth smile warming him better than the beer and firelight combined. He reaches numbly for the bottle. A Nuka-Cola Quantum, the chill of the bottle a welcomed surprise.

He and the rest of the crew had learned over the years not to reject a gift, no matter how valuable. MacCready nearly had a heart attack when he was gifted with a shiny new sniper rifle. That pretty little custom piece came with all the bells and whistles. Not to mention a few boxes of specialized ammo. John had zoned out when the other man started rambling rapid-fire over specs clutching the gun to him like a newborn. Each of the core companions got some good shit from time to time. He had some absolutely sinful blades and an old bottle of pre war bourbon tucked away in his office. Valentine had gotten some fantastic upgrades to his hardware and repairs to his offices. Hell- Curie got a whole bloody body.

Can’t beat these job perks.

“What’s the occasion?” He pops the cap off with the blunt end of his pocket knife, taking a pull from the bottle. The rush of sugar and god knows what else damping his headache.

Ophelia shrugs from across the pit. Pulling off their worn boots to warm their feet by the fire. “I remember you said they perk you up after a particularly bad crash.” They pause, face closing down for a moment, before looking up in horror. “I would have thought- I mean. I- you-I hope I didn’t do anything last night that upset you. I know you were a bit buzzed and I was way past tipsy. But, if I stepped out of line you would tell me right ?” John looks at them beyond confused.

"What?" He asks dumbly.

" Is," Ophelia waves vaguely at the distance between them. Normally when they camped together they were thick as thieves. Joking and nudging at each other's shoulders. Others used to joke about them getting a room. Now it felt like a great chasm had opened between them. "all of this about last night."

"Oh. Nah. Don't gotta worry none doll." John shrugs. Best to rip the bandage off now then later. "It's in the past, best leave it there. " He lies. It burns his throat worse than jet, but he has to. If only to protect his crumbling pride. One day he'll believe his own words. Hopefully.

"Well I am worried. How 'bout we start over. What’s wrong?" Ophelia jabs.

John feels heat rise under his thick skin. Just pokin’ a fresh cut tonight huh..."Kinda hard to start over after having someone's dick down your throat." He tosses it out carelessly. A shit attempt to derail the coming train wreck. Ophelia doesn't even flinch.

"Well, it's a damn good thing we both know how flexible I am then.” They rebuttal smoothly. “So, I'll ask again. What’s. Wrong?" The ghoul shrinks under their heated look. He was never keen on being hit with these eyes. Meant another kinda storm was brewing.

John throws his hands up in frustration. Had they never heard the phrase 'read the room'. "What, ya never had a one nighter before?" He regrets it the second the words leave his lips. He'd never seen someone flinch from words before. "Look, doll, I ain't one for making things awkward. I know the rules so let's just forget it and move on."

Ophelia deflates. Their signature look that could pin a super mutant in fight extinguished just like that. John watches them mouth over his words slowly. Clearly hating the taste of them as much as he did. "Is- was that what you wanted out of it?" Ophelia sighs. They dig a hand through sweat tangled locks. The tight coils of their hair protesting the drag of their fingers. His own fingers itch watching them, remembering the feel of their hair wrapped around his hand as he pulled them in for a kiss.

"What did you want out of it?" He asks, feeling dumber than a radroach.

Ophelia mimics him, throwing their hands up with a short laugh. "John, I thought it was clear. I don't go sleeping around with my friends and colleagues for shits and giggles. Who do I always ask to join me on travels?"

“Dogmeat?” John jokes, the knot in his stomach loosening with hope. It's unimaginable really- and yet. Were they serious? The past couple of times out they had always come to him. Even when they would be at a strategic disadvantage for whatever crazy scheme they had brewing. Only time he wasn’t Ophelia’s top pick was when some Minutemen tasks needed to be done. Even then He could always expect them at his front door the moment their feet landed on safe ground. A bottle of liquor in hand and an unbelievable story to tell.

“Not funny.” They chastised him scooting until they were seated next to him, knees brushing. "My idea for this morning was to maybe get breakfast and a semi decent cup of coffee. But I guess this is fine." They scrunch their nose in distaste at the cans warming in the fire pit.

“Shit doll,” John reaches out, wrapping a wiry arm around their waist. “Can I make it up to you? For being such an ass?” They hum in jest covering his hand with their own. The kiss that follows was unlike anything that he expected. It was slow and sweet. So different from the fast pecks he would get with others he slept with. He deepens it greedily, not ready to part just yet.

“You’re lucky I find you attractive.” Ophelia whispers into his mouth tossing his tricorn to the side and straddling his narrow hips. “We are going to have a talk about all this. Just-later-much, much later. I need a repeat performance of last night now that we are both sober.”

John groans letting them push him down. “Damn-you got it. You got whatever you want if you mean it.” Ophelia scoffs, ridding themselves of their baggy jacket. John can’t help but marvel at how beautiful they were backlit by the roaring flames. The orange glow of the light wrapping around their dark skin much like he craved to do. The flicking of it lapping at their smooth skin. Flashes of last night coming back to him of his tongue traveling down the same areas. He would have to remap them.

“As if I could ever lie to your smart ass.” They scoff grinding down on the growing bulge hidden in his rough pants. “But you have been lying to me and yourself it seems.”

He grunts in acknowledgment eyeing the way their ass moves. “You are absolutely right.Fuck- how can I make it up to you?”

Ophelia smirks cupping his cheeks. Their eyes meet. Rich hazel meeting cold black. The moment digs dip under his tough hide. The raw emotions in their stare makes his throat dry. “Put that mouth to good use- hmm? I know it’s good for more than some self-depreciation.”

Spurred by Ophelia’s words he flips their positions, placing the sniper down on his bedroll. John sinks lower, kissing and nipping at their hip bone. Mapping out all the sensitive parts of their body. His tongue tracing the silver little streaks on their belly. Ophelia’s stomach twitches at the feel of his warm breath on their stretch marks, cursing quietly as he finds their slick core. Their nails score his scalp, dragging a hiss of pleasure from his lips. He licks with gusto, taking full advantage of their isolated positions to make them scream.

“John-” They mew clawing at his shoulders to pull him back up to their kiss swollen lips. He goes leaving a trail of kisses in his wake before giving them a surprisingly chaste kiss on their lips.

“You sure ‘bout this doll?” He didn’t know what would happen after this, but it felt so different compared to his other recurring bed partners. He did want to see them again. He wanted this relationship to bleed into every aspect of his life. If he could relive that morning wrapped in their arms till his brain was splattered out on some dusty alleyway then he would. Without question.

Ophelia nods, reading in between the lines of his multilayered question. If there was one power figure in this wasteland they trusted, it was him. Wrapping a strong leg around his strong waist they shimmy off their tactical pants. Their eyes lock onto his pants as if the ratty briefs offended them. John chuckles and casually loosens the draw strings keeping his pants up. Ophelia takes it from there scooting the rough material down his legs. They pur, grasping his erection and stroking it. Their dexterous fingers play with his head drawing out a healthy bit of pre.

John sighs and rests his forehead on Ophelia’s brow breathing in their naturally clean scent. It reminded him of the rare times he could get freshly washed laundry mixed with the springtime. Shen the wild plants strong enough to brave this cruel world sprouted. He kisses them, nipping at their chin and collarbone while they drive him wild. “Doll, please.” He gasps, back arching into their touch. “You’re killin’ me ya know.” Ophelia chuckles returning a deep kiss.

“Good, consider it penance for thinking I couldn’t love you.”

John heaves, lost for breath as their words hit him. He pulls back floundering. “You mean that?” He sees the rapid fire thoughts racing through their wide eyes. Shock that they let slip that dirty little secret, fear of what he would do, then a stark resolution.

“Of course.” Ophelia nods through their embarrassment. Their sharp cheeks beginning to warm under his gaze. They say it like it’s an obvious statement. Like he should have just known. In a way he did. He just couldn’t believe it.

John takes the initiative now. Dragging Ophelia down to his scarred lips preening when he feels them sigh into it. Their tongue teasing his telling him point blank what they wanted. Grabbing onto their plush hips John grinds down on them, rubbing his stiff erection through the seam of their thighs and wet entrance. The moans that elicited from them made his radioactive blood boil with need. He had to have them again, last night was a dud. He would savoir this time.

Positioning themselves over John’s cock Ophelia shoots him a sultry wink before sinking down onto him slowly. “Oh fuck me.” He groans, dropping his head to his pillow. Their body was feverish around his, soft, pliant and so willing.

“That was my intention.” They grab onto his shoulders for support. Eyelids fluttering heavily. “If I’m not getting that across now, perhaps I should quit while I’m behind?” They joke as they ride him. Their hips move in slow tight circles. It’s enough to drive him wild.

John digs his fingers into the supple flesh of Ophelia’s hips. With any luck he’ll leave bruises. Excellent. Ophelia couldn’t stop John as he flipped their position. He pinned them roughly down on his sleeping bag. “Don’t worry Doll. You got your point across very well. Don’t need to go putting yourself out like that.”

“You’re one to ta-” John thrusts into them cutting off their snark. Taking devilish delight in flustering them. Setting a fast pace he drives in deep revealing in their cries of pleasure. God damn- this was almost enough to make him wanna go sober. How did he ever think one night would be enough?

“Fuck! I don’t deserve you.” His hisses cutting through the wet slaps of skin on skin. Ophelia does nothing but groan. Neither of them last long. Much to John’s chagrin. He finishes with a choked shout, hips and stomach twitching as he spills himself on their thigh. Ophelia doesn’t fare much better. They bite hard at the rough skin of his neck, nails scoring his back with a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain while they came undone beneath him.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, cupping the back of Ophelia’s skull. They wrap an arm around his neck nuzzling close, draping their body across his.

“Ye- but if you talk down about yourself again I’ll have to feed you to a deathclaw.” John chuckles feeling his eyelids getting heavy. He wouldn’t put it past them.

#Fallout 4 #john hancock #john hancock x sole survivor #it's smut #it's angsty #it's oc time #crusty boi is best boi

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Centerfold

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

4k; N S F W (oral sex, come marking, come eating, thigh riding, photography during sex, porny pervy photos, whipped cream)

Also available on AO3!

[part of the Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Prompt series, letters C&D]

---------------------

It’s late, real late when he comes home. So late that it’s a little too dark to read the clock face in the hall, but that’s alright. You knew it would be, when you spoke to him on the phone during his lunch break. Flip had been up to his eyes trying to connect dots and draw strings for the case, so you planned accordingly. You timed dinner perfectly; the oven dinged right as you heard the lock on the front door click open, as the familiar smell of your man’s cigarette smoke wafted into the kitchen before he did.

You can’t help a little grin spread across your face, can’t help your heart from fluttering just the smallest bit at the sound of his heavy boots. You had some candles lit around the living room, more for ambiance than light. No, the large fireplace was steadily crackling and filling the room with a warm glow, one that you hoped would put Flip in the mood.

Dinner needed some time to rest, to cool a little bit so it wouldn’t burn your tongues. You bit your lip, smiled around the thought of just where and how you wanted Flip’s tongue in the meantime.

“Welcome home honey!” You call out to him, taking off your apron and shaking your hair out as you leave the kitchen and greet him in the foyer. He’s hanging up his coat in the little closet by the door, and you don’t hesitate before wrapping your arms around his big middle, smiling up at him. “It was a little chilly out today, why don’t you come sit with me next to the fire?”

“What’s all this, ketsl?” Flip smiles down at you, just a little quirk of his lips around his cigarette. His eyes are so warm, so brown. He nods in the direction of the living room, gesturing to all the candles and the record player that’s softly playing.

“I thought tonight we could have some fun.” You smooth your hands up his chest, feeling how firm and strong his muscles are. He hums out happily as you loop your arms around his neck, kiss him slow slow slow while you whisper, “Unwind a bit, put on some music, have a little sex. You know.”

He exhales then, thick clouds of grey-blue smoke that wind around your bodies. He can tell you’re not wearing anything underneath that robe of yours with the way that the fabric slips away from your breasts a little too revealingly, and his jaw clenches for it.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re trouble?” He says low, dangerous, hungry.

Good, you think, you love when your man comes home with an appetite.

“Me? What’d I ever do?” You tease, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the foyer and into the living room.

He goes easily, happily. He looks tired, but that’s alright, you’ll let him sleep after you have your fun. You can already see the line of his dick pressing into his jeans, and that alone has your thighs rubbing together, has you wanting to get fucked.

He follows you, katchkaleh hot on your heels, and he stands behind you in the living room, your toes cushioned on the plush shag carpet.

“Mmm you’re just,” He pulls some of your hair away from your neck and face, tipping your head to the side so he can press hot open mouthed kisses to the skin there, can taste the beat of your pulse. “So so beautiful. I thought of you at work today, all day.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me what you thought about.” You encourage, taking the cigarette away from him and holding it between your fingers so that he can get both his hands on you.

They massage your breasts for a minute before sliding down down down your body, parting the fabric of your robe. You’re not wearing panties and he groans, lets his huge hand wedge between your inner thighs, feeling the heat of you, the wetness of you, the want of you.

“Your sweet pussy mostly.” He replies, voice deep and heady, “Was hopin’ to come home to see you naked, had to go jerk off in the back about it.”

Your body tingles all over at the thought, at his admission. He continues to kiss and suck on your neck, places bruises there over old bruises he left you that morning. The sting of pain makes your stomach clench in the best way, and your eyes slip closed as you feel him grind his cock against your ass.

“Did you take one of the pictures back with you? Did you jerk off and come all over the polaroids?” You asked, and he sucked in a deep breath.

That was one of his biggest dirty secrets, those pictures. Polaroids and 35mm stills he takes of you, asks you to pose for, jerks off over whenever he can’t jerk off over you.

Late nights on a stakeout all alone, later nights sitting in the empty station had him browsing his collection of homemade pornography, amateur photos of you that have him spilling all over his fist in ten minutes flat.

“Yeah, fuck baby I did. But…” He groans just thinking about how often he sneaks looks at them, how they’re hidden in a false drawer in his desk, in a little tin container in the glovebox.

“But what?” You prompt, putting your hands over his and guiding one back up to your tits so he can pinch and squeeze at your nipples.

“The pictures are gorgeous, your body is just fuckin’ rocking, but I think it might be time to take some new ones.” You can feel it when he licks his lips, tongue brushing your cheek as he kisses you, “My cock’s so hard for you baby.”

You chuckle a little then, turn in his embrace so you can face him, so you can see how dark his eyes have gotten for you, how big those pupils have blown with lust.

“How do you want me?” You ask, letting the robe slip away from your body and pool around your ankles.

He’s entranced with you, with the way the fireplace crackles softly, the way the glow from the soft flames lick up your body.

He wants to lick up your body.

“However you want, just…” He doesn’t know where to look, so he looks everywhere. Doesn’t know where to touch, so he touches everywhere too. “Just let me come all over you when we’re done?”

“Oh, it’s going to be like that is it?” You grin, sinking down to your knees, unbuttoning his flannel on your way, “Want to see me covered in it?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, takes the cigarette back from you, sucks down the nicotine to give him some edge, some bit of control. Tonight is going to be long, going to be slow. He wants to take his time with you, has plans for you.

Plans that short circuit in his brain when you sit back on your heels and pull his cock out of his jeans, giving it a good steady stroke.

“Want to see me lick it up?” You bring your lips to his shaft and kiss it, little kisses on the vein which throbs up to the head. You tongue the slit and he pushes his hips in your face, smokes and smokes and smokes some more.

“Fuck – ” He fists your hair and yanks your head back just the littlest bit, just so that the fat head of his cock rests heavy on your tongue, drool already wanting to slide down your chin. He pulls you off of him ever so gently, and bends down until he’s on his knees too, until he’s caging your body underneath his with a breathy, “Please.”

You grin and lay back on the carpeting near the fireplace, already settling, already getting ready for a good fucking. Your knees part and he moans in the back of his throat for the way he rubs his dick through your folds, not quite pushing in, not just yet.

“You’re big.” You hum, tapping out a little rhythm onto his shoulders, your body moving to the beat of the sexy record you had softly playing in the background. “I like when you cover me.”

“Makes kissing you a bitch though.” He grumbles as he has to hunch himself down to meet your lips.

“Kiss me a little before fucking me then, get your fix.” You push his shoulders down so your faces are level with one another, eyes closing again to simply surrender yourself to the incredible feeling of your husband around you. “Let me get my fix of you.”

He hums into your mouth, kisses you slowly. One of his hands cups your neck, caresses your head. His hands are so fucking big, the way they span nearly the whole half of your face, the way they’re so warm. Your noses bump together as you breathe in time, as you suck the breath straight from his lungs, bitter and so so good.

Your bodies move together, sweat together ever so slightly. Being by the fire has you warmed up, being near Flip has you burning up. His jeans chafe your calves a little but you only moan for it, moan for him. He sucks on your tongue and you bite at his lips, your hands squeezing him, holding him close.

“You taste good.” Flip kisses you, licks across your teeth, “Like strawberries.”

“I made shortcake for dessert, thought I might spray whipped cream all over, have you lick me up.” You explain, and he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and groans loudly.

“Oh fuck – fuck that’s – yes we should do that.” He says immediately, stumbles over your words as his dick rubs against your legs, makes him whine.

“Okay, okay but fuck me first, I’m gonna lose it if I don’t get your cock in me.” You laugh at how eager he is, joy bubbling up in your chest. You’re love-drunk for him, for Flip, and it makes your pussy wet that he’s the same.

You shove your hands under the waistband of his jeans then, and he gets the hint. Standing up for just as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and socks, he lays on top of you nice and naked, as nude as you. He kisses you as he lines himself up, your legs parting for him, giving him room to shove himself into your space, into you.

“Ohh fuck ketsl.” He breathes out, face buried into your cheek.

That first hard thrust has you melting underneath him, has you wanting to do nothing but starfish out and be the pillow-princess you were. But he starts slow, a rolling buildup of pleasure that soon has you craving more.

You can tell he’s holding back, but you don’t want him to. You don’t, you want to hear the slap of his balls against your ass, want to hiccup out moans and sobs for his cock.

“Honey you can go faster.” You encourage, and he groans in appreciation, bites and suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sinks his teeth right into you.

“God I’m gonna come so hard, and then I’m gonna eat some of this delicious fuckin’ dinner you cooked up and I’m gonna fuck you again and come in you again.” The faster his hips go, the more inclined he is to talk, and soon he’s rocking into you hard and rough, he’s scrambling to get your legs every which way.

“My pussy’s been so empty all day, fill me up!” You toss your head back and accept the pounding for everything it was, let yourself go boneless, relaxing for him so he can thrust in deeper, his cock feeling like it’s a mile long inside your body.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” Flip asks around gulps of air as he brings your ankle over his shoulder.

“No I – oh fuck! – I waited, wanted to wait for you.” You answer honestly, smiling around a gasp for how he looks so fucking horny about that.

“You’re good to me, such a good girl – my good fucking girl fuck your cunt’s tight.” He grits, and you laugh, laugh before you’re moaning too loud to do anything other than hold on.

“I – I – oh yeah, yeah honey.” You drip praise from your tongue the way sweat from the ends of his feathered hair drips onto your tits.

He fucks you there by the fireplace for a while, every so often rearranging your legs, your bodies, your guts, so that he can get in deeper. He feels incredible, his big dick splitting you in half, the friction blazing the walls of your pussy, throbbing inside you.

He alternates between fucking you on your back, and rolling you onto your hands and knees, onto your side, pulling you onto his lap. He wants you every which way, wants you deep deep deep. You wind up back on your back, because he hates not looking at you, hates not seeing your face.

He’s working hard to fuck you right, and you yelp out in pleasure when he pinches your clit, nibbling on your ear as your body trembles underneath him.

“Flip! Flip I’m – harder please, fuck me harder!” You beg, a hand so tight in his hair, the other smacking his chest.

“I can feel it oh fuck I can feel how close you are,” He bites hard against your jaw, sloppy, so wet, tongue and lips swollen as your chest heaves. “Squeezing me so tight, don’t worry ketsl I’m not letting you go.”

“Oh I missed you yesyesyes -- !” Your back arches up as he spits into his hand and spreads his fingers through your folds, presses down on where his cock pistons fast into your pussy.

“Should’ve come to the – Christ – station, I would’ve fucked you hard, fucked you right in front of everyone, make them watch you come on my cock.” He’s babbling, not really meaning the shit he’s saying – but it’s sexy to think about it, to think about everyone looking at you on display, listening to the sounds you’re making right now.

“Phil!” You shout out his name, and he doesn’t pull his hand away, doesn’t stop fucking you. “Phil I’m – !”

You shout out a strangled cry then, because fuck oh how your orgasm crashes through you, how your body shudders and jolts under him, how your brain goes hazy and foggy with pleasure. Stars and spots dance across your vision as the world moves in slow motion, shocks rippling down your spine, curling your toes.

“I’m right here.” He pants, fucking you through it, cock dragging through your gushing cunt as he tries to get you to scream, “Come on honey I’m right here.”

He spits into your mouth hard, and you swallow it, swallow it like your cunt swallows his cock, even as it throbs and pulses around him, coating his dick is so much come, the wet slide loud in the quiet of the living room.

“I’m gonna come.” Flip groans then suddenly, the feeling too much, tipping him over.

“In me or on me?” You ask all dreamy-like, slowly slowly coming back to reality.

“Yes.” He grunts.

“No!” You laugh and playfully swat at his side as his hips take advantage of you going rag-doll limp under him, aftershocks still shivering through your thighs. “No you have to pick, the pictures, remember?”

“Ugh fuck, ketsl -- can’t – I can’t – ” He’s too wound up, so close, his stomach tensing, balls tight, panting in your ear and trying to kiss your cheek, your neck, but only getting as far as moaning against your throat.

“Come in me a little and then pull out?” You suggest, and he seems to like that idea because soon he’s cursing loud in your ear, punching his fist against the shag from the feeling as his hips push you so hard that your body chafes against the carpeting.

He never comes as loudly as you do, but he does cry out your name as he rolls his hips against yours for a minute. He could stay in there forever, inside your pussy. He knows it, you know it, and on any other evening you’d be content to let him fill you to the brim with it, but this was a special night.

“Close your eyes, be careful.” Flip mumbles as he winces, pulling his cock out of you and moving as quickly as his jelly body can handle to let hot ropes of come splatter all over your face.

He loves to come on your tits, and some accidentally gets on there anyway, but there’s something extra dirty about the way it clings to your nose, your mouth, your cheek. It’s so hot and you resist the urge to lick your lips, not until he says, not until he’s got the camera.

He kneels over your chest and tugs at his cock, milks himself for any last droplet of come that he can, before sighing, exhausted. He still hadn’t eaten, and you almost want to bring this up to him, but he’s looking at you still with such a deep dark desire, that you don’t want to interrupt him.

“Stay like that, right like that.” He says eventually, the two of you giggling in the post-orgasm bliss, as he tries to stand up on wobbly knees.

“Mmm’kay.” You hum, let your fingers swirl around the come that slid down your chin and dripped into the pit of your throat.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear Flip come back with a camera, can hear him checking the shutter, checking to see it’s loaded up with film. When he comes back, he’s laying down between your legs again, kissing your calves.

“Spread your legs,” He swallows hard as he raises the camera up to his eye, his big hands holding it steady, “Push my come back in your pussy, let me see it drink it up.”

You grin, bite the inside of your cheek as you lift a pleasure-weak hand to down between your legs, feel for the thick come that’s started to ooze out of you. You’re impressed with how much he came in you before pulling out – but then again you’re not surprised. Flip always had a big load.

“Like that?” You ask breathlessly as you can hear him taking photo after photo.

“Just like that honey-bunny, finger yourself with it.” His baritone ghosts your pussy and it clenches from the warmth of his breath, clenches around your fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this ketsl, you got somethin’ you want to tell me? You one of them playboy bunnies while I’m at work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Hef’s number right up here.” You moan as your fingers slide through your folds, sopping wet from your own come. He snaps another photo of it mixing, mingling there inside of you.

“I oughta kick his ass, seeing you like this. No one gets to see you like this but me.” Flip puts the camera down for a second to kiss the inside of your knee.

He smacks a kiss to the other one, before crawling up your body, taking photos along the way.

“And the poor guy over at the fotomart.” Your arms stretch over your head, pushing your tits out for him and his camera.

“He’s seen worse,” Flip leans down to suck your nipples into his mouth one at a time, getting them stiff in the firelight, smacking them to get them flushed before he takes his photos, “And I promise he ain’t poor for it.”

“Oh here – get this one.” You say as you pinch your nipples for him, hold them and tug on them while his mouth waters through the lens. His stomach growls then, and you both have a little laugh about it when you suddenly remember, “Go get the whipped cream?”

“Yeah, just – some lick up my come some more first.” He pinches your nose and gives your face an affectionate shake.

“Okay, do you – Phil!” You grin against his lips as he tackles you then, camera put down carefully as he rolls you on top of him, kisses you all over.

“Sorry, you’re just so pretty.” He says as an explanation, and you roll your eyes at how much you adore him and his sex-blotchy, reddened face.

“You go get the fuckin’ whipped cream, it’s in the door.” You push yourself off of him, settling onto your stomach.

He grumbles and groans loudly, dramatically, before getting up and leaving the living room with a smile.

“Nice ass!” You shout after him, and you can hear the deep rumble of his chuckle from all the way there.

When he comes back a minute or two later with the redid-whip icey cold from the fridge, he’s already aching for you all over again.

“Come take a seat on my thigh, let me get close to you ketsl.” Flip sits cross-legged on the carpet. You notice he’s grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from the laundry basket and you shake your head. He always did complain that the carpet itched.

He hands you the cannister, pops the top off and you immediately get to work while he fumbles with his camera. You can’t help yourself, you slowly grind your hips against his thigh, slowly working yourself up. His muscles shine with your slick but he’s not looking, he doesn’t look anywhere other than you.

“Oh Flip,” You sigh as you take a hold of it properly, rubbing your cheek all over it, “It’s so big, just like your cock.”

“What’s bigger?” He chews on his cheek, snaps some photos.

“Your cock is -- your cock is way bigger, I can barely fit my hands around it.” You say, shaking the whipped cream, getting it really aerated in the cannister, getting it all mixed up just the way the man on the commercial told you. You wondered if he knew how many people used those directions for their own pleasure?

“Shake it up faster baby, let me see you sweat.” He says evenly, and you can feel his cock hardening through his underwear for you again.

“Oh,” You moan as you ride his thigh, as you let your tits bounce from the speed which you shake up the can, “Oh Flip, I – I think it’s gonna blow.”

He nods, and you tilt the nozzle to let ribbons of the sweet cream coat your chest and face, a cartoonish comeshot captured on film. You spray the cream and ride his thigh, and he shoves a hand into your pussy to get you off again, making you fall forward a little just from the sensitivity of it all.

You come around a mouthful of whipped cream, and Flip puts the camera down so he can get both his hands on you properly, holds you close. He gets sticky with the whipped cream too, but he doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re too good to me.” He whispers against your cleavage where he’s licking up the whipped cream, not wanting any of it to go to waste.

“I like that you like looking at me.” You hum, carding a hand through his hair while he breathes you in, cleans you up. “I like that you don’t use those magazines.”

You had nothing against the magazines, but there was definitely something special about being the only one he wanted, about being the only woman who got him off.

“Why should I, when I’ve got my very own centerfold right here?” He looks up at you from between your tits, whipped cream all in his goatee.

You sweetly tug on his ear, before asking for a shower. He goes happily, so handsome under the warm spray.

And then like as if it were every other night, you find yourselves smiling at one another behind glasses of water and Coors, sitting in your pajamas at the table with a perfectly heated dinner. You didn’t care that it was late, not really.

Not when you and your man were so good about building up an appetite.

-------------------

Tagging some pals :) @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #flip/reader #flip/you #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman reader insert #blackkklansman #my writing

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are Space orcs, “Revelation.”

Hey guys, I had a bunch of trouble writing last night for some reason, but I managed to get something out, so I hope you like it :)

“So what do you think, am I more of a Han Solo type or a Captain Kirk type because you know if I am being honest it really depends. I think I would like to think of myself as a Han Solo type, you know dashing and sarcastic, the hero you want to have come in to save the day, but Captain Kirk I can also see. You see I make dumb decisions sometimes and get everyone into trouble. Oh oh oh!! wait ! How about Captain Malcom Renylds. I feel like he is just enough of an idiot and just enough of a badass to work, what do you think detective?”

The Detective groaned loudly and took a long slow breath, “Admiral, listen to m-”

“You know I was also thinking about other parallels. You know how about that old animated movie Titan EA. I think I kind of look like Cale, and Sunny acts just a bit like Stith, you know, the angry chick with big legs. I liked captain Korso of course, just for simple aesthetic reasons, than he had to go and be a bad guy, but damn that redemption arc was surprising and well timed, at least I think, others may disagree.”

“ADMIRAL VIR I-”

“You know I have seen every space related science fiction movie and TV show that ever existed, and I am totally cool to keep talking. I mean I have to pass the time somehow until my lawyer gets here. You see my mother always said I liked to talk. I talked early, in fact, my brothers don’t like the fact that I talk so much, they say I talk TOO much, can you believe that.”

With an angry yawl like a Cat who just got their tail stepped on, the detective rose to his feet, hands to his head, “That is IT, that is IT. We will continue this interrogation LATER.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the room muttering to himself the entire way, “I need a break.”

Adam Vir watched him go with an expression of pure innocence on his face as the door closed, only to morph into an expression of devilish amusement not dissimilar to that of the grinch in his original animated form. He leaned back in his chair resting his hands behind his head. The Detective had seen fit to undue his cuffs as it might make him more cooperative. The irony being that he would totally love to cooperate if someone was willing to cooperate with him, and actually believe his story.

He cleared his throat wishing he had accepted the drink of water offered to him earlier. He had been talking for about five hours now, straight. Apparently a filibuster isn’t just something you can use in politics. It is apparently a very effective way of driving young and inexperienced detectives insane.

He smugly leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Interrogation techniques were designed to work on the guilty, or, if done wrong, on the slow, but he was neither of those things. Granted he was kind of an idiot, but he was more of an idiot in the way of his idols like captain Kirk and Malclom reynolds and less of an idiot like every disney villain’s cronies. He was smart just…. Selectively.

He cracked an eye as the door opened opposite.

At first he expected to see the detective ready to go another round already, but instead a group of Drev guards walked in. He smiled his best winning smile at them and rose from his seat, “Back to the cells boys.”

The Drev didn’t say anything.

He tried a different tactic, “Zhad chal dana tsa najastich.” May the sun watch over you: A traditional, and respectful, Drev greeting

The two creatures pulled up in their tracks.

“Tsa Dzhal cheeych” You speak Drev

“Yid.” Yes

His little greeting had the desired effect, and soon he had the two Drev warriors conversing like two Rundi at a political debate. They laughed together as they walked down the halls of the precinct.

Still in Drev, the three of them continued to converse, Adam talking animatedly, “So then I told him that I can’t hit kids right, and he was all like. Then you can fight me.”

“What happened.”

“Got my ass beat. You don’t just challenge a sentinel to open combat as a rookie, and you know, at only six feet tall.”

The Drev chirped with laughter, coming around the corner to nearly run face first into the Detective who was open mouthed and staring, holding a fresh mug of coffee before him. The Drev’s laughter died down seconds to late, and the man narrowed his eyes, glowering at them.

“What are you doing?”

Adam turned to look at the other drev, “Tin Najastich.” watch this.

HE turned to look back at the Detective, “Ne’e j’ya eeneenat nehtehich.” He can’t understand us. He didn’t do much, but he could tell by the face the detective made, he had done it right.

It was a little trick he had learned from Sunny, a Drev dialect that tended to cause breaks in the middle of words as if adding a apostrophe, while simultaneously pronouncing all the ts and ks as clicks, the ts as a forward mouth clicks and the ks glottal clicks at the back of the throat. Either way, it was like putting on a thick southern accent to confuse an alien translator, and it seemed, it simultaneously worked for Drev.

The Drev began to laugh and babble at each other in the dialect as the detective sat there in frustrated anger, “What are they saying!” He demanded.

Adam frowned allowing his face to go straight as he deadpanned, “I wouldn’t know. I am xenopobic and would never dane to learn an alien language, you know, like Drev, or Vrul, or.” he leaned towards the Dredv, “I am currently working on learning tesraki.”

The Drev continued to laugh as they pulled him back towards his cell.:

Adam grinned and waved at the Tesraki guard as he walked past, “You know I have it on good authority that stock prices are about to go way up for holywood inc. They are working on becoming intergalactic. I would suggest getting on that bandwagon”

The Tesraki looked surprised, but grinned and waved at him as he was moved into the other room.

Behind him, the Detective was practically blowing steam out of his ears as the door slammed shut.

***

The human glanced over at Krill for the fifteenth time eyes wide in an expression of barely concealed terror.

Krill would have rolled his eyes if his eyes could roll.

Catching the look, Sunny frowned and leaned in, “You did threaten to eat him.”

Krill scoffed, “I don’t even have TEETH sunny, how was I supposed to eat him!” He turned to glance over at the man who was still giving him a bit of a side eye. He frowned, “Well, I suppose blending him up and turning him into a meat smoothie could work.”

It became pretty evident in the next few seconds that they hadn’t been speaking quietly enough, at least when it came to the comment about a meat smoothie.

Krill waved him off with a hand, “Oh just ignore us, now when is this meeting supposed to take place.”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Sunny tilted her head back, looking overhead at the darkened sky and approaching rain.

It was just beginning to drizzle when the man nodded and pointed forward into the darkness, “There.”

Sunny squinted hard, just barely able to make out a shadowy shape slipping through the darkness.

Sunny nudged him forward, “Well, go on. If you do this for us, I won’t let captain cannibal hurt you.”

WIth that urging, it didn’t take long for the man to vanish off into the dark, boots slapping on the wet concrete.

Krill turned to look at her in annoyance, “Its only considered cannibalism if you eat your own species.”

“Whatever,” She muttered, moving into a low crouch and slipping into the shadows off to the side. She managed to parallel the movement of their man for a few streets by ducking behind dumpsters and concealing herself within dark alcoves. At one time in her life she might have considered such actions to be heretical against her beliefs, but her opinions on such things had changed as of recently, and she continued to inch forward through the darkness.

Besides, this was about saving Adam.

Didn’t matter what she had to do, she was going to do it.

The human was close now stopping a few feet away from the shadow. The way the rain fell, it almost concealed the two figures as they spoke. Any bystander just passing by might not have noticed them, but Sunny was not just any bystander.

As the two figures disengaged, she had eyes only for one.

The human, likely scared out of his skin went sprinting off into the darkness likely thinking about krill and his meat blender, but his escape didn’t matter to Sunny. She could find him later if she had to, they had his name after all. What they didn’t have was knowledge about this strange hooded figure in black. The one who had paid the humans to incriminate adam, and themselves by proxy.

Sunny didn’t know much about stealth as a general rule, but She, still, somehow managed to make it up the street without being seen, tailing the small dark figure. That was her first clue, whoever it was was either a very short human, or not human at all. Now that didn’t really narrow things down as there were several species who could fit into that category, burg iotins even some rundi, or a finnari to name a few. Not that she would ever assume a finnari of doing something like this.

She watched as the figure slipping into one of the large buildings, door shutting quietly behind it. She might have worried about losing the tail if she hadn’t already considered that, and lowjacked the package.

She crouched in the darkness her hands resting on the ground before her, eyes narrowed,

A soft rustling behind her, and she turned nearly jumping out of her skin as a figure scuttled from the darkness, its movements disjointed and aggressive.

“SHHH!” Krill hissed

She snorted fuming, “What the fuck, krill you scared the shit out of me.”

“What, why.”

“Oh I dont know, maybe it has been your recent pension for violence, or the fact that you keep talking about eating people, or your uncanny ability to sneak up behind me.”

“You know, I find all of this to be very insulting. You can stab people in the face, and adam can threaten to punch people in the trachea, but the moment I do something that is even slightly off color, it bothers everyone, and then people get all uppity.”

Sunny sighed, pulling her hood up over her head to block out the deluge, “Generally Adam and I don’t threaten to eat people, Krill. That is the difference.”

“Well no one ever told me there were rules.” He said, gripping onto sunny’s cloak as they inched forward into the darkness, following the signal towards the dark building. They didn’t take the same entrance as the cloaked figure, instead going for a more discreet entrance, finding themselves in a maintenance tunnel lined with pipes and power boxes.

The only illumination they got was afforded to them by the glowing dimness of red lights above and the occasional emergency strip. Somewhere, a distant roar alerted them to the presence of some sort of generator.

They moved up the hall in near silence as the rumbling continued, and Sunny was forced to stop a few times, listening to the distant echoes of footsteps up the hallway though none of them ever came close enough to cause a real problem.

KRill followed at her back.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the maintenance corridors, following a set of slim metal steps upward and into a nice, tiled hallway. The make was very modern for Tesraki, emulating human style which was rather popular in the galaxy these days, and signified wealth despite the fact that humans were hardly the wealthiest of species.

Fake plants, or maybe real ones --sunny didn’t know-- lined the hallways as little fountains of water trickled through artificial streams on the floor.

The aesthetic was rather pleasing, giving an almost outdoor field inside a city that hadn’t seen green in over a thousand years.

They were almost to the end of the hall when sunny went very still freezing in her tracks fast enough to cause krill to plow into her open back.

“What are you doing.” krill hissed glancing over her shoulder, pausing when a pointed finger motioned him to the target.

“No. That can’t be right.

“I am afraid it is.” ***

Adam woke that night not knowing why.

It was almost as if he had hard a strange noise somewhere in the darkness, but when he sat up, the only thing he could see was the glowing blue/purple wall of the containment field.

He tried rolling over and going back to sleep, but something just felt wrong.

Eventually he forced himself to sit up and look around. In the galaxy, human intuition was nothing more than mere myth, but, despite what others said, he believed in it, and wasn’t about to ignore it’s prodding as it moved him up towards the edge of the containment field to peer into the darkness.

His eyes were almost immediately drawn to one of the other cells -- the one where his attackers had been staying--. Squinting past the glowing surface and into the darkness, he thought he could sense movement.

It was at that moment, that the containment field went down, and he was left blinking into the darkness backing away into his little field of light. When nothing happened, he inched forward and out into the darkness.

Had the containment field malfunctioned?

He took another step into the darkness before turning on the infrared on his mechanical eye and flipping up his eyepatch.

He immediately froze in palace gasping in shock.

“NO!”

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world-of-aus · 5 years ago

Text

Behind the Screen - (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,437

Warnings: 18+ here be smutty times

Author’s Note: So i thought i had put this to be queued yesterday but apparently i did it wrong, i apologize for the day delay.Hopefully the contents in this chapter will makeup for it! As always the tag-list for this series is open so if you’d like to be added just let me know! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying my work, there’s nothing that means more to me!

Part 3 / SERIES MASTERLIST

“Barnes,” you moaned, “I swear to god if you show me another fic, that is more than three parts I may just scratch my eyes out”

Bucky turned to look at you from where he was laying on his stomach computer screen illuminating his features, “I thought you liked doing this, do you not?” he questioned brow raised.

“of course, I love to do this, but not when you’re here, you’re literally reciting porn written about you to me as if it’s the daily news,” you deadpanned, “you have gone through two masterlists, two, you know this isn’t exactly what I thought you meant by catch up,” you muttered side eyeing him.

You saw Bucky’s lips twitch as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, he pushed your laptop off to the side, his arm sliding around your bare waist, “oh,” he grinned, “and what is it that you thought I meant?” he questioned drawing your body closer to his.

“definitely not reading your best rated porn without plot one-shots about you,” you muttered, though there was a teasing underlying to your tone.

“is it because you can’t get off?” he teased, “rub one off to the thought of me,”

You rolled your eyes smacking his chest lightly, “If I wanted to get off I could very well do so if pleased, but why use my finger’s when I could use something else,”

A growl left Bucky’s lips as he pushed himself up onto his arms, his body sliding over yours, hips pressing yours into the sheets below you.

“Look at you doll, a needy little thing” He murmured his finger running over your cheek, eyes staring intently at yours. He leans down slowly his lips hovering above yours for a second before his teeth are nipping at your lower lip, his tongue smoothing over the bite. Your body is squirming under his ever so slightly, your lower half searching for his. The hand that isn't by your head slides down the length of` your body curving over your hips, his hand pushing you down. A groan slips past your lips, Bucky grins his lips molding to yours. Your hips are eager to feel him against you as you push against his left hand, his lips leave yours pulling a whine from you, “if you don’t stop moving, I’m going to stop,” he warns, your hips still. He’s chuckling low before his lips are leaning down once more to cover yours, your lips are moving fervently against one another, Bucky drawing the sweetest noises from you, he’s grown addicted to the little mewls he’s able to pull from you. He pulls away from your lips, head nudging yours to the side exposing your neck to him.

He wastes no time as he licks, sucks, and bites across the sensitive skin till his teeth find that sweet spot, the one that has a low moan falling from your lips, back arching, toes curling. He grins into your skin before continuing the ministration, the hand that holds down your hip is now sliding to the side, cooling down your heated skin. A loud gasp falls from your lips as his left hand roughly cups your mound, his index finger runs over your slit, the moans he’s drawing from you are scandalous, he thought the noises he was driving from you before were something, but these noises, oh these were delicious. You can feel his hard cock against your thigh, and that only makes your skin grow hotter, you need him inside you, you need to feel the thickness of it through your walls as you clench around him.

His finger finally slips into the heat of your folds, his finger dipping in slightly to your entrance before its trailing up circling your throbbing clit. Bucky drinks in the breathy moan that spills from your lips his tongue licking it from your mouth. He gives you a few rubs before his finger is trailing back down your slick, finger teasing your entrance before he’s pushing it into the knuckle working it inside of you. Your head pushes into the pillow beneath your head, soft moans falling from you lips. Bucky's working in a second finger when the sound of your phone vibrating startles you both, you look to your night stand eyes wide. Your tempted to let it go to voicemail, “answer it,” Bucky murmurs against the skin of your jaw.

A whine leaves your lips as you reach over the best that you can with Bucky still on you. You look at the vibrating device, Sam’s name staring back at you, “can’t I just let it go to voicemail,” you whine. Bucky shakes his head, “answer it” he murmurs fingers thrusting tentatively. You groan answering the call bringing the phone to your ear, “this better be good Wilson,”

Your breath is catching in your throat but it's not due to Sam’s infectious laugh in reply to your grumbling answer, oh no, rather its due to Bucky’s thumb currently circling your sensitive clit.

“You know for you being gone a week I thought you’d be happier to hear from me, I'm beginning to think you’ve been spending too much time with tin man,”

You bit your tongue to keep the moan from spilling out as Bucky thrusted his fingers within you, “You have no idea,” you grounded out glaring at Bucky.

He gave you his best Cheshire grin, his thumb gliding over your clit causing a gasp to fall from your lips, “Uh you okay y/n?” Sam questioned.

You coughed clearing your throat, “yeah I'm fine Sam, thought I saw something on the bathroom floor is all, so what has you calling me Wilson?” you questioned needing to hurry this call up.

“we’re all heading out to the bar tonight, in like ten maybe fifteen minutes tops if you’re up for it.”

You went to answer but Bucky beat you to it, “yeah we’re up for it,” he called out, your eyes widened in horror.

“Was that Barnes?” Sam questioned the laugh evident in his voice.

“Yeah he’s a little obsessed with me,” you ground out, smacking at his chest.

Sam barked out a laugh, “we’ll see you in fifteen Wilson, Barnes has to help me with something and then we’ll be down.” You didn’t wait for his reply as you hung up the call, flinging the phone to the side.

Your hips roll against his hand, a low laugh falling from Bucky’s lip as he continues to work his fingers into you, “can't believe you hung up on Wilson sweetheart,” he chuckled his teeth nipping at your jaw.

You aren’t able to give him the remark that sits on your tongue as he draws a low moan from you his fingers scissoring inside of you curling against that toe-curling spot.

“Fu- fuck bucky,” you moan hand curling around his wrist that's finger deep inside of you.

“you’re so wet doll, does it feel good, you like having my fingers fucking you like this?” he questioned breathily.

You nod your head not finding the words through the moans he’s drawing from you.

“Use your words angel, am I making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you moan, “ohh god yes please don’t stop,” you begged your body writhing beneath him as he brought you closer to that sweet release.

You could feel that sweet release building, your body teetering on the edge of a delicious orgasm.

You were so close, almost there, almost, a loud whine was leaving your lips as Bucky pulled his finger from you, his body sliding off yours.

“Bucky,” you moaned.

He chuckled lowly from where he stood at the side of your bed, “ten minutes till we’re supposed to meet the team downstairs doll,” he grinned putting on the clothes he had discarded hours ago.

You gaped at him as you watched him head towards the door, “I’ll see you downstairs sweetheart, you might want to get dressed don’t want to keep them waiting,” he grinned throwing you a wink before he was slipping out of your room.

Your head flew back into your pillow a loud groan leaving your lips at the unsatisfied ached between your legs.

“So you going to tell me what Tin man was helping you with before I called?” Sam grinned cheekily eyes twinkling in the low light of the bar. You rolled your eyes but smiled behind the glass of whiskey in your hand, “he was just checking up on me, pretty sure you heard the mission went south,” you murmured taking a sip from your glass

Sam nodded taking a sip himself, “yeah Steve briefed me on it, you okay?” He questioned.

You shrugged your shoulders, “as okay as anyone can be,” you smiled.

You and Sam kept up the small talk at the high top table the team had chosen, though the others had left you long ago for the darkened corner of the bar where the pool tables sat lined up.

“You wanna go shoot pool with the others?” Sam questioned throwing back the last of his drink, you mirrored his actions.

“Sure, I love watching Natasha slaughter Barnes and Rogers,” you grinned grabbing his extended hand as he pulled you towards the team. You got there just in time to see Natasha grinning cheekily, Steve throwing his head back in defeat a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “See,” you said smackin Sam’s chest, “we got here just in time to see them get their asses handed to them, though I don’t think Steve needs anymore,” you grinned throwing Steve a wink. A laugh fell from your lips at the sight of Steve’s cheeks taking on a pink hue, “Awe Steve,” you cooed.

“you know y/n you’re a lot of talk for someone who never play’s pool when we come out, pretty sure you could get your ass handed to you too,” Bucky spoke up from where he stood on the other side of the pool table, leaning on the pool stick.

“pick on someone your own size Barnes, don’t be a sore loser,” you teased.

“oh come on y/n, Bucky has a point you never play pool,” Steve added in his eyes glinting in amusement.

You groaned, “if I play one game will you guys stop picking on me?” you questioned arms crossed.

Bucky perked up, “i’ll show you the ropes doll,”

You shook your head a laugh falling from your lips, “I think I'd rather have Nat teach me,”

“I think Natasha's a little preoccupied with schooling Sam, so whaddya say doll?”

“as long as you show me the ropes,”

“oh don’t worry sweetheart,” he spoke voice dropping low as he came behind you, “I'll show you everything I know.

You’re wound tight and he’s not even touching you, at least not in the way you need him to. Your skin is glistening with sweat under the lowlight of the bar, he sidles up behind you, his voice ghosts over your ear, “your turn,” the word alone has shivers running down your spine, you’re not sure you want to go again.

With shaky hands you get into position, you can hear his tongue clicking behind you, his left hand runs down the back of your relaxed fit dress, pushing you down lower to the table, his right hand obstructed from the view of any onlookers climbs up your thigh till its nestled in the warmth of your legs, his hand cupping your mound, “you’ve got to master your stroke,” he instructs, his index finger stroking you through your dampened panties. You bite back a moan that climbs up your throat, “during your practice strokes,” he murmurs into your ear his index finger circling your aching clit, “your eyes should switch from the contact point on the cue ball to the point you’re aiming for on the object ball,”

Your hair catches on your damp forehead obscuring how your mouth drops open slightly in pleasure, your so close. He had been winding you up just like this every time it was your turn, it looked innocent to the eye of anyone who might look your way it was anything but innocent underneath. His fingers are working you over faster, you’re trying to focus on the task at hand but your mind can do nothing but focus on the immense pleasure he’s bringing you.

“Now,” he speaks up bringing you back from your pleasurable haze, “line up the pool tip,” he presses his clothed erection against your backside, grinding ever so slightly, “up with the cue ball, aim” he murmurs flicking your clit, “and hit, away,” just as you’re about to push over the edge he stops all movement, a pained gasp leaves your lips as he retracts his hands from you panties, rubbing your slick on your thigh.

“darn doll, you were so close,”

You turn on wobbly legs to glare at him, “I've had enough, I don’t want to play this stupid game” you ground out, “I'll be right back,” you mutter pulling away from the pool tables. You can hear him chuckle lowly behind you. You pass Natasha on your way to the restroom to hopefully freshen up your heated skin, “you alright y/n you look like you’ve just run a marathon,” she grins.

You groan but let a laugh slip past your lips, “Barnes is just really making it hard for me to get the hang of pool, he's working me up only to let me down at the last second,”

Natasha patted your shoulder, “you’ll get there, before long you’ll be handing his ass to him,” she teased pulling a grin from you, “we’re ready to call it a night, would you like us to wait for you?” she questioned.

“You guys can go ahead, I still need to get my tab after I freshen up,” you responded pushing back your sweat slicked hair.

“You sure?” she asked, “i can get one of the guys to wait for you,”

You shook your head, “it’s fine really Nat, you guys can go ahead, I shouldn’t be too far behind you guys.”

“only if you're sure,” she replied.

“positive,” you smiled.

You waved at her as you walked towards the restroom desperately needing to wet your heated skin, and maybe wipe away at the slick that had accumulated on your lace panties, it was beginning to grow uncomfortable.

You walked into the one stall restroom not bothering to lock the restroom door behind you as you wouldn’t be taking long. Staring into the grimy mirror you turned on the tap, running your fingers in the cool water. You ran your damp fingers over your face feeling instantly cooled, though it was doing nothing for the throbbing ache between your legs. Your patting your face down with a napkin when the door is swinging open, you turn toward it wide eyed to see Bucky walking in, “what the hell Bucky, I thought you left with the team,” you said your hand reaching up to feel your racing heart.

He didn’t reply as he gave you’re his back, a almost inaudible click resonated through the dingy restroom, “Uh buck, what are you,” you paused watching him closely, “what are you doing?”

He turned to face you then his eyes clouded over with lust, you’re barely able to get a word out before he’s closing the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing into yours roughly. It’s a battle of tongue and teeth as he pushes your back up against the wall closest to the sink. You grow dizzy of the feel of his tongue dancing with yours a loud breathy gasp falls from your lips as you both pull away for air, Bucky dropping to his knees. “Buck what-” he’s lifting up your dress, head darting between your legs to bite at your inner thighs. Your head falls back against the tiled wall, fingers webbing into his hair, “You think you’re the only one who’s tired of playing this little game, you think you’re the only one who’s been on edge?” he questions huskily looking up at you through his lashes where his head rests between your legs.

“Barnes what has gotten into you,” you moan when he hoists your leg over his shoulder his warm breath fanning over your dampened lace panties.

“I’ve read through a lot of teasing,” he murmurs running his tongue along your covered folds, “but I've yet to come across someone edging, teasing their partner till they’re falling apart at the seams,” he licks again pressing his tongue in deeper, “and doll,” he whispers eyes catching yours, “you’re bursting,”

Bucky makes quick work of pulling your panties to the side, exposing your slick wet folds to him. He doesn’t waste another second as he leans in burying his face between your legs. His tongue delves in licking, sucking, lapping at your sensitive core. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy, mouth dropped open in a moan as your finger pulls at his long brunette locks. His tongue is working you over trailing up your folds to seek out your clit, he flicks over it once, twice, before he zones in on it, sucking flicking the sweetened little bud.

“Fuck Bucky,” you moan, “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you cry.

As soon as those words spill from your mouth, he’s doing just that, a cry falls from your lips as he inches up your body. His lips are finding yours his tongue sliding into your mouth letting you taste yourself on him. Your shaky hands reach down to unbutton his jeans, but they’re not coming undone as quick as you’d like, “Fuck Buck please,” you whine into his mouth.

His hands are taking a hold of yours stalling all movements, he’s looking down at you, eyes hooded with lust, “you’ve made it this far baby, just a little bit longer,” he grinned giving your lips a sweet peck. He holds eye contact with you as he unzips his jeans, pulling himself from the tight confines of his jeans, he lifts your leg onto his hip, his cock splitting through your folds.

You hold your breath as you wait, his tip teasing your entrance, a broken moan falls from your lips as he bottoms out your arms wrap around his shoulders gripping him to you, it only takes a few thrust and your coming undone. Your mouth drops open in a loud moan as your orgasm take you by surprise, your back arches against the wall, bucky wraps his arms tightly around your waist his head burying in your chest as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Choked sobs are falling from your lips as your vision blurs, another orgasm washing over you from the pleasure you had been withheld from all evening.

Bucky is biting at the skin of your breast, low grunts falling from his lips and you can swear its music to your post orgasmic ears. You clench around him tightly bringing him to his own end, his warmth spurting deep inside of you.

Your fingers thread into his hair as you pull his lips to yours, swallowing the moans that fall from his lips as he shallowly thrusts into you. Your thighs are quivering in his hold, barely keeping you upright if it hadn’t been for him pinning you to the wall.

Bucky’s head falls to your neck, his breaths coming out labored, you can feel puffs of laughter against your skin. “what?” you questioned a hint of laughter in your own voice.

“this isn’t the way I planned on taking you after all that,” he grinned looking down at you, “didn’t see it going this way.”

“and how did you plan on taking me?” you questioned your cupping his cheek, thumb running over his bottom lip. He’s thinking over his next words, “just not like this," he whispered placing a kiss to your thumb.

For a moment you can feel the energy shift between the two of you, both of you are letting the vulnerable side of you come out, the one you were told not to let cloud this agreement, yet here it was.

You both stand there just staring at one another, your thigh slips from his hip, “you think your reader’s will be excited to read about this?” he questions, and just like that the bubble you were in bursts bringing you back to reality.

You open your mouth to reply but your cut off by loud knocks against the wooden door, “hey y/n, have you seen Barnes?”

Part 5

Behind The Screen Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog @nightshade7117 @wantingtobekorra @gazzan-a @clarinette07 @amanda-the-fangirl @im-sure-its-fine @sagechanoafterdark @heyywestman @runaway-escape @ilovesupersoldiers @unlistedpond @rayofdawnworld @badassbaker @spookyanairwin @fandom-basurero @krabby-tentacles

#behind the screen #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

It’s never too late to realise

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you like it, I somehow think I could have made this better. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Gavin Reed, RK900 [Part2]

Gavin sighed and opened a new document. ‘Gavin.’ ‘Hmm?’ He looked up at the android sitting opposite of him. ‘Your appointment is in ten minutes, are you sure you want to start that report right now?’ ‘The phck is your problem surveying my goddamn terminal?’, Gavin called over before turning back to his screen and shrugging, adding a bit calmer: ‘Didn’t plan on going.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Hey, tin-can, I don’t want to talk to another phcking shrink about my life again, okay? And this week I can get away with it, pretending I didn’t know they already replaced the old one.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure it is terrible’, Nines prodded him. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m an asshole and I hate everyone, now give me the okay to look at dead people.’ ‘That’s not how this works!’, Gavin hissed back. ‘Oh, I’m sorry’, Nines chuckled. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m a socially inept asshole, who hates everyone, ask me your questions I will without doubt find witty comebacks to instead of actually working on my problems and then give me the okay to look at dead people.’ Gavin felt how his shoulders tensed, because phck this tin-can, seriously! As if a machine could understand- ‘Phck it, fine, I’ll go if only to get away from your useless ass.’

Gavin really didn’t want to go. For entirely different reasons than his plastic partner thought of, but honestly it was better he just thought Gavin was too stubborn to get help. No, Gavin knew he needed it, needed some sort of guidance to help him come to terms and ultimately get over his problems. But he also knew the last therapist hadn’t been of any help, so why try again? Maybe he just had to get himself together and press on. Maybe he really just imagined it and if he wouldn’t be this goddamn weak then he could- He sighed as he knocked at the office door at point twelve. ‘Come in!’ So, another try then.

He sat down opposite to the human – were they even human? – therapist. ‘Hello! You must be Detective Reed. My name is Elise Thorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you!’ Gavin took her hand and shook it, grimacing. ‘Let’s see how that changes in a week’s time’, he grumbled. ‘Let’s see how that’ll be then indeed’, she just answered, still smiling. ‘Miss Lisa really didn’t leave a lot of notes behind, so I guess we’ll have to start from scratch again. I’m sorry about that. Would you tell me a bit about yourself? What progress did you make with your previous therapist?’ Gavin laughed ugly. Progress? For real? ‘Well, as it likely states in my file, I have trouble working with androids and there is a severe case of anger issues. That’s about it.’ ‘Okay… Then let’s start with your trouble with androids. What would that be exactly?’

‘I’m afraid of androids.’ Heh, the last time he had said that, Miss Lisa had just laughed him in the face, telling him the revolution was over and that her kind didn’t plan on overthrowing humanity anymore. ‘That’s not what I’m afraid of.’ ‘Then what are you afraid of?’ ‘Their strength. The way they don’t show feelings.’ ‘You do know that’s pretty racist, right? You really shouldn’t think that way.’ Yeah, right. As if Gavin would make the same mistake a second time.

‘I can’t trust androids. My… My partner never did anything, and I should be having no doubts with him, but… yeah. I somehow always think he will turn on me and-‘ ‘And?’ The woman wasn’t smiling, but her face was still looking supportive, so Gavin continued: ‘I always expect androids to fake being friendly and civil and then turn on me when no one’s looking and hurt me.’ He looked up expecting what his previous therapist had said so many times to be repeated: ‘Man up. Hurt you? Why should they? And you’re not looking like a guy that couldn’t take up that fight. Seriously, that’s ridiculous.’ ‘Did you have any experiences with androids that would support that apprehension? Maybe during the revolution?’ Ah, there it was. Why are you like this? Is there a reason? That’s not a valid reason, come on. You just hate us, that’s it. ‘Not during it, before’, Gavin said. ‘I am Elijah Kamski’s half-brother. We grew up together. He started working on androids then and… and there was an accident in the lab. I ran away afterwards and applied at the police academy.’ ‘Do you want to share what happened with me?’ ‘Not really’, Gavin sighed. ‘I want to forget it, but I guess you won’t stop asking, right?’

‘Detective Reed, I am here to help’, she said, putting down the tablet she had written on until now. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know. But the more I know the better I can try to help you.’ Huh. So not telling was an option? ‘You seem surprised.’ Gavin laughed. ‘Just saying your predecessor used to make this an interrogation.’ ‘Well, I heard as much’, she sighed and rested her head in her hands. ‘I was there with Eli, used to watch how he worked on androids while doing my own stuff. Just for the company, I guess. Or the sounds relaxed me, I don’t know. Well, one day I was playing something on my phone and only looked up as I heard my brother choking. The phcking thing was on top of him, nearly crushing his windpipe and I froze, I couldn’t do anything. In the end I beat it with a fire extinguisher until it broke and let go off my brother. I couldn’t spend another second with an android afterwards, I had an argument with Eli in the hospital, how he had to stop, but he couldn’t see my point, convinced it was his error only. Moved out then and kept away from androids. But now they are people and… Well, I have to work with them.’ ‘Are you afraid of androids?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you ever spoke with an android about that?’ Gavin let his shoulders fall. ‘Well, the last one was my therapist and he laughed me in the face.’

The woman in front of him cringed at that and quickly underlined something on her tablet messily. ‘Okay. Any other contact with androids that ended badly besides that accident and my predecessor that really has to have his license revoked?’ ‘No. I mean, Connor, the RK800 here punched me unconscious once, but that really was my fault. I don’t like him, but at least that reaction I can understand.’ Still, his new therapist noted it.

‘Okay, that’s something we can work on. You also said you had anger issues?’ ‘I’m easily riled up’, Gavin shrugged. ‘It’s just how I am.’ ‘What makes you think that?’ ‘Well, actually, everyone says that. Has to be some truth to it, hasn’t it?’ ‘What are they saying?’ ‘You sure this isn’t an interrogation?’, Gavin baited with her. ‘You are evading the question. Tell me or say you don’t want to talk about it.’ ‘I’m an asshole, I’m angry all the time, I hate everyone, these kind of things.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘What?’ ‘Do you hate everyone?’, she repeated for him. ‘A bit?’ Gavin had never really thought about it. ‘Okay. Then tell me, are there people you care about?’

Gavin thought about it for a while. ‘Yeah, Tina. She’s a colleague and a friend. My partner, although he is an android. Hell, even Connor and Hank. I guess everyone I know I care about at least a bit.’ ‘What about yourself?’ ‘What kind of question is that?’, Gavin asked. ‘Of course.’ ‘Then tell me, what do you do to take care of yourself? What are your hobbies, what do you like to do? When was the last time you had fun?’ ‘Hey, what kind of phcking feel-good shit is this?’, Gavin wanted to know, refusing to even think about the questions. ‘Would you rather not talk about it?’ ‘Yes! God, I don’t have the time for that!’ Gavin had stood up and was about to go, but the woman held up her hands. ‘That’s okay. We can concentrate on your android related problems first. I think that would be it for now. See you next week then!’ ‘Wait, that’s it?’, Gavin asked, turning back towards the desk. ‘Yeah. I mean unless you want to talk about something else.’ The woman had the audacity to look as innocent as humanly – androidly? – possible.

Gavin thought about the question and contemplated whether asking was worth it, finally deciding that he had nothing to lose: ‘Yeah, I’m curious, what’s your diagnostics?’ ‘I’m not sure yet, we need more than one session for that.’ Gavin snorted. ‘Keeping it mysterious, hmm?’ ‘Maybe.’

Nines had enjoyed working in peace for once. With Gavin gone to visit his therapist, he could finally concentrate on his cases. He didn’t have to bother with the human cursing at random things, shouting at his computer out of nowhere and running to the breakroom and the toilet all the time. He liked working with the man. He preferred it to working with others. But sometimes Gavin just was a pain in the ass with his constant competitive attitude, his stubborn determination to do all the work alone and his damn self-deprecating humour all the time… Maybe this new therapist was able to help the human better than the last one. Or maybe Gavin was just a lost cause, who knew. Nines was just happy about the short break, but all too quickly that time was over. He saw his partner walk towards their desks and was already bracing himself for having to listen to Gavin monologue about what an asshole the new woman was and how talking didn’t do shit and something along these lines. At the very least he would be in a shitty mood for the rest of the day or overly anxious.

It came as some sort of surprise to him, when Gavin just sat down and quietly started up his terminal again, apparently lost to thoughts. Nines furrowed his brows and conducted a quick, maybe not strictly legal search. ‘You have android related PTSD and there is a high chance you are suffering from depression?’ Nines just couldn’t believe it, that was his only explanation to why he had said that out loud. ‘What?!’, Gavin threw back. ‘The phck you get that from?’ ‘Your therapist’s notes… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked, but you seemed so different to your usual behaviour.’ ‘Yeah, well phck you, this one actually does her phcking job! Or at least she does a better job! Maybe I am, maybe she is wrong, but goddamn it feels good not to hear the same shit all day!’ Nines didn’t know how to answer, so he tried to resort to humour: ‘Was getting your ass handed to you by Connor really that bad?’ But instead of laughing, Gavin glared at him. ‘Okay, toaster, listen here, because I will say this once and then you can make fun of me all you want. I know I have problems; I know I’m not the nicest guy. But do you really think I’m a cry-baby? I saw my brother nearly getting murdered by one of you phcking things! That I can even look you in the eyes now and work with you is already a huge phcking thing! And I don’t think I’m depressed, but holy shit, getting told to man up and that all my problems are just there because I don’t function your way and that I’m just an asshole who will never change? Not helping! I need another phcking coffee!’

Nines blinked a few times, staring into the open air over Gavin’s chair. He didn’t know what to make of that new information and quietly opened a connection with Connor to share it. The RK800 too stopped working and stared ahead for a while, before they both turned to look at each other. We’ve made it worse, haven’t we?

[>next part]

#Detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Gavin Reed gets therapy

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talesmaniac89 · 5 years ago

Text

Tag, You’re It

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: The reader challenges Dean to a round of laser tag, to see who’s really the best shot.

Triggers: None really, just fluff

Y/N = Your name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour

“Pull in here Dean!” You bounced excitedly in your seat as you pointed to the arcade in front of you. Smile wide and (Y/E/C) eyes bright with the premature rush of a challenge as you twisted in your seat to raise a teasing eyebrow at the grumbling hunter.

Dean Winchester, however, didn’t seem as excited for the prospect ahead of him. Even though he’d been all for it when you’d raced him to the car. All big words, sharp eyes and squared shoulders, ready to prove you wrong on your assumption that you’d beat him in a one to one shoot out.

Of course, he’d probably also not thought you’d be dragging him to the closest arcade to put his bragging to the test straight away. Considering the challenge, he’d most likely considered it to at best involve a gun range and at worst a bunch of tin cans in a pretty little line.

“Are we really doing this?” Dean groaned, though he still turned into the car park with a grimace and hesitant green eyes locked on the big, faded ‘Fun Land’ sign in front of the door. Seeming less impressed by the second as he took in the crumbling facade.

Honestly, the place had seen better days.

The sign looked like it was just one bad gust away from crashing to the ground. The ‘F’ was faded and dented enough to barely be visible at all, renaming the old arcade to ‘Un-Land’ instead. And the obvious signs of rust creeping in from the sides of the vintage styled metal hinted at years of neglect. But hell, it was the only arcade in a 10-mile radius, and it would have to do.

Hopefully the equipment inside wasn’t in as bad of a state as the outside. The reviews had been good online after all. Though you were still adamant that you could beat Dean in a shoot off even if your only available weapon was a peashooter.

“Hell yes we’re doing this. If you’re gonna brag and say you’re better than me, you have to be ready to put your money where your mouth is,” You grinned, reaching for the door as soon as he pulled the Impala into one of the many available parking spots.

Based on the ghost town of a parking lot; the old and rundown arcade was pretty much empty. Which was what you’d been aiming for when you pulled Dean along early on a Monday morning. You didn’t need other soldiers on the battlefield if you were going to show him you were the better shot. Though, in your own totally humble opinion, the place could’ve been full, and you’d still come out on top of any damned leader board. You knew your way around guns.

Any type of gun.

“But… Laser tag? Isn’t that just for kids’ birthday parties and boring stripper-less bachelor parties?” Dean’s deep voice was right behind you once he spoke up again. Sending surprised little pleasurable shivers up your spine as you turned to face him, nearly bumping into his chest from how close he was.

It took you a second to find your voice; your head loud with some not-so-innocent thoughts about the gorgeous hunter in front of you.

Damn it.

It was unfair how mentally tongue-tied he could leave you by just standing that little bit too close to you. Those broad shoulders and muscular arms easily brought with them fantasies best reserved for the four walls of your own room back at the bunker at any given point of the day. Even more so when they were close enough for you to run your fingers over.

Especially when the rest of the man was just as sinfully gorgeous. From those slightly bowed legs and his perfectly toned chest, making you wonder how all of him would feel pushed up against you, one strong thigh between your legs and calloused fingers circling your wrists. To those tempting full lips and that defined jaw peppered with just the right amount of stubble to make you want to trace it with your tongue. And of course, your favourite pair of bright green eyes; easier to get lost in than any national forest.

Ok, so maybe you had a tiny bit of a crush on the wilderness that was Dean Winchester.

Which meant the added bonus of getting some time alone with him did add to your giddy energy. But it was 99% about proving him wrong… Or maybe 75%, at least. Swallowing down your own dirty mind, you pushed your thoughts aside along with the buzz in your veins from reacting to the near magnetic pull of him by walking backwards towards the door to the arcade.

“Well, bachelors and birthday parties will have to wait in line. Right now, it’s a way for me to kick your ass,” You shot back, a little too late and too weak, when you found your voice again. Adding a secret ‘and to help you de-stress’ to yourself as he rewarded your teasing words with a roll of his eyes and a huff before he followed you to the door.

Dean had been a bit on edge lately. Not that you blamed him. But it hurt to watch him pace the floor dragging a fidgeting hand through his hair and not finding any outlet for his nervous energy. Which was really why you’d challenged him in the first place.

You both turned to your little challenges whenever one, or both, of you were on edge from the tense lack of action between hunts. It made the quiet days easier to deal with when you had nothing to hit. He was your best friend, even if you felt more than just friendship for the hunter, and you just wanted to help him. To make him smile again.

There had always been a great chemistry between you two. Some intuitive part of you that just knew when the other was hurting, or needed an outlet for the building adrenaline, energy and frustration. Maybe it was just friendship, maybe it was something more. Personally, for you it was definitely the latter and sometimes you believed it was the same for Dean. You’d just not been able to own up to it properly yet. At least not enough to find the needed courage to test your theory that those hidden glances you sometimes caught out of the corner of your eye meant he felt the same way you did.

“I don’t know…” Dean sighed as you turned on your heel to push the door open, happy to see the inside looking a hell of a lot more modern and cleaner than the fading outside shell of the building. Hopefully their ‘state of the art’ laser tag arena lived up to the hype you’d read about online. Each session apparently came with a scoped rifle, a handgun and a ‘smoke grenade’ that was more a burst of steam than anything. All set in a dark maze made to look like an abandoned warehouse.

A setting you were both intimately familiar with from your many hunts.

“You’re just scared ‘cause you know you can’t beat me,” You sing-songed teasingly as you nearly skipped towards the reception desk. Happy to see that the inside looked as empty as the parking lot. Which meant there shouldn’t be too long of a wait. And hopefully you’d have the whole arena to yourselves. So you could properly school the hunter.

“Oh… It’s on…” Dean winked at you. That boyish half-grin chasing away the rest of his annoyed reluctance as he fell into step next to you. Bumping a toned bicep against your shoulder when you rewarded his agreement with a loud victorious laugh which only sounded louder in the empty arcade.

Ok, so it was more than just a tiny crush.

You loved Dean Winchester. You just needed to get your shit together for long enough to tell him. Hopefully without destroying your friendship.

---

“Not fair (Y/N)!” Dean tried to sound annoyed as his vest blinked red to signal your clear shot to his chest, but the laughter soaking the words took the edge off it.

You’d been kicking ass and taking names for the first fifteen minutes of the thirty-minute round. Though Dean kept telling you it was only because you kept hiding from him. Either that or because the gun was lighter, he was new to laser tag, or one of a million other whiny excuses.

For the first ten minutes, the big guy hadn’t taken your game seriously. Allowing you to easily duck around corners and sneak up on the hunter. Your movements hidden by the music and the blinking lights as you used your handgun to get in a clean shot before running away laughing. Blatantly ignoring the ‘no running’-signs that littered the walls.

Once your point lead had been announced at the ten-minute mark however. Then the game became deadly serious. Forcing you to switch tactics to keep your lead. Finding the high ground and dropping to the floor to use your scoped rifle to snipe at him from behind the chain link fence on the higher platform.

Which was exactly where you were as he called out to you above the music and teased a laugh from you that gave away your position. Leaving you just a few short seconds to roll to the side and scramble back up on your feet before he closed in on you. Easily getting in a shot at the back of your vest just before you rounded another corner.

---

His points were closing in on yours.

“Stop moving so much! You’re cheating!” Dean’s laughter sounded from somewhere behind you as you raced towards another corner with a loud, breathless laugh of your own.

The twenty-minute mark had seen a point score that was both in triple digits and the distance between your points was shrinking fast. The hunter’s longer strides left you to run away, ducking and rolling half the time as he kept trying to get in shots at you while you zig-zagged away from him.

“All’s fair in love and war Dean!” You shot back with a breathless laugh over your shoulder before rounding the corner and jumping a small barrier to lie in wait, knowing he’d follow you around it sooner rather than later. Switching from your rifle, you aimed the handgun towards the corner and held your breath. But there was no sign of those bright eyes and boyish grin coming into view around the corner.

Where was he?

“Got you,” Dean’s voice in your ear teased a childish squeal out of you as he snuck up on you and got another shot in. Damn it. You were tied.

Laughing you turned towards him and winked before easily using your smaller size to your advantage, ducking under his arm and rushing around another makeshift barrier. Nearly sliding on the floor from the sharp left turn before turning to walk backwards and waiting for him to hit the slippery patch that almost made you stumble. Gun aimed and finger on the trigger.

You barely got the shot fired through your loud laughter as Dean came into view around the corner. Stumbling over bowed legs as he fumbled with his gun. The Winchester curse striking again.

The brothers somehow both always seemed to nearly drop whatever weapon was in their hands at least once. Luckily, this time, you could use it to your advantage as you ducked, dropped and rolled. Getting around the corner with another breathless chuckle at Dean’s curses from around the corner.

---

Your back and forth point-lead kept changing as Dean copied your earlier tactic; sniping at you from the top of one of the structures you didn’t even know how he climbed. While you tried to hide around corners and fire blindly in his direction. Both of you breathless and hot as the robotic voice signalled the last few minutes had started.

The final countdown propelled Dean into further action as he jumped nimbly down from his vantage point to chase after you again. Sniping was good for steady points, but not much of a winning tactic with only minutes left to spare.

You had the lead, but only barely and Dean was hot on your heels as you ran around another corner, only to run straight into a dead end. If he caught you in there, he was sure to win the whole game by simply locking you in place and firing blindly around the corner.

You only had a few seconds to formulate your plan. Which was probably what made you throw caution to the wind as you kept your gun by your side instead of aiming it at where he was sure to show up. Deciding, hell, two birds, one stone, just as Dean came around the corner.

Eyes shining bright with early victory as he lifted his gun.

Before he could fire however, you ducked under his aim and pushed him against the wall. Your hand flat against his vest as you pushed yourself up against him. Hating the fact that the rigid plastic of the laser tag vests was keeping you from feeling his body against yours. You knew you should probably take a second to think things through. But, you were acting on adrenaline; the only way you ever managed to muster up the courage to do something absolutely insane.

Both when it came to hunts and your own non-existent love life.

So, before Dean could speak up or fix his aim, you let your hand slide against the back of his neck and pulled his head down towards yours. Your lips pushing against his in a quick, breathless and giddy kiss. Barely allowing yourself to linger at the taste of him or let the world fall away around you before you stepped back, just as Dean’s lips became pliable against yours.

The quick-witted hunter, did however have lightning fast reflexes after years in the business. So, before you could fully slip away from his arms, he’d reached out to pull you against him again, wrapping strong arms around your waist. Pupils blown and lips slightly parted as he let his tongue wet them, tasting you on them.

The growl that left him was low and deep in his chest, yet from this close you could easily hear it above the music. The animalistic need in it sending shots of heat through your system. He wanted this, he wanted you, and damn it, you wanted to properly savour him as well. To fully let yourself drown in the taste of peppermint and spice that you’d only gotten a small teased hint of.

But that would have to wait until after you won the game and proved you were the better shot. You were nothing if not stubborn after all.

And so, you only allowed him to pull you back against him for a few short seconds. His lips parting as he groaned against your mouth, all willing and wanting. Teasing a moan from you that he easily swallowed as his hands roamed against your sides, seeming annoyed at the hard plastic that stopped him from tracing your curves.

An annoyance that only grew when you pulled away again and he pushed his torso forward trying to follow. A greedy mouth looking for yours with a greedy desperation as you raised the handgun and stepped back away with a smirk and a wink.

Dean’s eyes were so focused on your lips that he barely even seemed to notice the gun until you took proper aim. Green eyes widening, though he made no move to raise his own. Still too stunned and rattled from your surprise kiss.

Letting your teeth grazing against your lower lip; you shot him at point blank range before turning with a laugh and walking away. Your pace unhurried and an extra little swing to your hips from where you felt his eyes roaming your body in jeans you knew for a fact were very flattering. Leaving the big guy dazed against the wall; his own gun forgotten in his hand and the win as good as yours.

By the way his eyes burned into your body before you slipped around the corner, counting down the last seconds, you already knew how you’d be celebrating your win. Pushed up against a wall somewhere as Dean’s lips explored your neck and mouth properly. Teeth marking your throat and a dangerously low groan trapped in his chest. One big hand circling your wrists and keeping them pushed over your head to stop you from running away again and one big, toned thigh pushed between your legs.

Not that you minded. Hell, that would be way better than any trophy or money you could ever win from your challenge.

Tags:

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @punof-agun

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sea040561 @donnaintx @alwaysdreamingforthebest @thatmotleygirl @chocolateheart @superfanficnatural @flamencodiva @starryeyeseunbyul

---

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bleedinghearthalstead · 4 years ago

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 11. Post Bruised Ego. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

They've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

It's been a while since they've been grocery shopping together. Since they're both barely home, their fridge rather resembles one of a bachelor than of a married couple, mostly empty except for condiments and random take-out containers and that old bottle of milk that probably went bad last week. But now that Jay is home with a broken hand, they've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

When Jay suggests that they go to Costco, Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. Jay is usually the get in, get what you need and get out type of shopper, so it really is a testament to how bored he is at home and it's only been a week. She doesn’t want to know what else he’s going to come up with in the next five. Hailey quickly makes a list of what they need – wow, they're apparently out of salt – and they're off to what she knows is going to be a much longer shopping trip than she had planned for.

They've barely stepped foot in the warehouse and Jay has already wandered off towards the electronics on sale, leaving Hailey with their cart. She thinks about calling after her husband, but she just rolls her eyes at him and keeps walking towards the food section in the back. He better not be looking at that 70 inch TV that he was talking about with Will the other night. Hailey methodically goes down every aisle – if they're here already, she might as well make the most of it and find some of those hidden sale items. She remembers going shopping with her mother, one of the few things she and her mother did together – just the two of them since her brothers hated it – and they’d make a fun game out of it, doing a treasure hunt for those elusive limited offers. She’d run ahead of her mother, ducking and jumping, running back and forth the aisles, trying to glimpse the highlighted price signs. Both of them would rejoice every time Hailey found a treasure. She marvels at how fondly she looks back at such a mundane thing as buying groceries.

Half an hour later Hailey finds Jay in the cereal aisle, one-handedly pushing his own cart, already filled with all kinds of things. "Jay!" She walks over to him, her eyes widening at what is in his cart. "What in the world…"

"Oh hey, babe." Jay gives her a blinding smile and throws two large boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his cart.

She rummages through the items he’s gotten so far and they definitely do not need 1,875 q-tips or 200 trash bags or that tub of 115 dishwasher detergent pacs. And is that a 2 pound tin of peanuts? She spots something blue and silver at the bottom of the cart and she scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Oh God, is that a 24-pack of Red Bull?!"

"Leave it," he laughs and slaps his wife’s hands away.

She sees that he’s also already been to the meat section and got two whole chickens, four racks of ribs and what looks like ten pounds of ground beef. "Who’s gonna eat all of that?"

Jay shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "I thought I’d invite the guys over for a barbeque." And now she knows how bored Jay really is, if he’s willing to cater for eight guys who eat like they’re bottomless pits, with a broken hand no less. Hailey sighs, knowing that this is going to happen whether she wants it or not.

"Alright," she huffs and looks through the rest of his cart – there's burger buns, but there's nary a vegetable in sight, and no, she’s not gonna count the massive glass of pickles. "How about some sides and some other drinks?"

Jay’s brilliant smile is back and he leans down to peck her on the lips. "You’re the best."

In the hopes of speeding things up, Hailey types out a list on her phone and Jay’s phone pings a few seconds later. "You get those things and I’ll get the rest. Meet at checkout in twenty?"

He looks at the items she sent him and nods, checking his watch. "Copy that."

"Oh," Hailey stops him with a grin, "and can you get me some tampons when you get the toilet paper?"

"Orange or green?" Jay sticks out his tongue at her. He knows she tries to catch him off-guard sometimes, but honestly, it's not the first time he got her tampons and it's not like he minds.

She winks at him. "Yellow."

"Yes, ma'am." He'll get her some tampons, she'll see.

On her round to get the last few things on her own list (a.k.a. the things that they were actually planning to buy before they got here), she catches Jay stuffing his face with food samples four times, and every time he waves and yells at her to try this or that with his mouth full. And every time she pushes her cart quickly down the next aisle, shaking her head at his antics.

After she gets everything they needed, she gives him the full twenty minutes and another ten afterwards just browsing through the store before she goes to checkout, but her husband is nowhere to be seen. Hailey tries calling him, but it just keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. Sighing, she guesses that Jay got lost somewhere in the cheese section, looking for the feta cheese that she put on his list. Waiting for another five minutes, Hailey decides to pay and get a sundae from the food court while she waits for him.

"Babe, over here!" She hears his voice as soon as she’s past the cash registers, surprised that he beat her to the food court. He’s holding a half-eaten hot dog in his right hand and balancing another one on his cast, a soda cup tucked into the crook of his elbow. Jay looks like a food spill waiting to happen, so Hailey hurries towards him, saving the hot dog that is precariously perched on his arm.

The toppings are piled high and there’s extra sauerkraut, just the way she likes it. She smiles up at Jay and thumbs away a drop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth before she stands up on her tiptoes and gives him a quick kiss. "Thanks, babe."

He raises an eyebrow at her when she takes her first bite. "Who said that one’s for you?"

His wife giggles and retorts with a raised eyebrow of her own. "Let’s see you try and take this away from me."

"Oh no," Jay laughs, "I'm only gonna make that mistake once." He finishes the rest of his hot dog in one bite – his cheeks comically bulging as he chews – and washes it down with a couple of big gulps of soda. He takes Hailey’s cart and leads her to where he left his while she eats her hot dog.

"Hey, Raymond," he walks up to an employee, "all good?"

"Yeah, man, your carts are over there." The guy points at two carts (he did say carts, as in plural, Hailey thinks) that are pushed against the wall next to him.

"Thanks, buddy." Jay fistbumps the guy and pushes Hailey’s cart over to the others.

Hailey almost chokes on the bite of hot dog in her mouth. The last time she saw him half an hour ago, he had one cart that was already ridiculously full and he walked out with two? She doesn’t even know how Jay did it. It’s hard enough to push two carts by yourself, but he can’t even hold on to the other one properly with his cast? And how did he even get the stuff in the cart? She forces herself to swallow down the bite and blurts out, "What the fuck?"

A woman with two little kids walking by glares at Hailey and Jay snorts loudly. She doesn’t even notice, still staring at Jay’s two overflowing carts. One of them is definitely the one that she saw him with, only now thirty rolls of toilet paper and about 300 tampons stacked on top. The second one is loaded with three 24-pack trays of beer, three big bottles of bourbon, a six pack of Coke bottles and a gallon of orange juice. And it’s all piled on top of a…

"Is that a mini fridge?!" Hailey's voice goes up an octave. She turns to Jay who looks at her like the cat that ate the canary, big grin and all. Jay bought a mini fridge. Hailey pinches the bridge of her nose, but can't help the laugh that escapes her. She knew one of them was going to buy something they didn't need, but this definitely beats the yoga pants and sports bra that she treated herself to.

"It's actually a stainless steel cooler on wheels," Jay explains proudly. "It's got its own bottle opener and cap catcher."

Laughing out loud, she hands her half-eaten hot dog to Jay who gladly takes it and continues to wolf it down. She pats his good arm. "Honey, you get all of that stuff in the car, I don't care how."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"I’m getting a sundae," she announces and walks off. Behind her she hears Jay roping that poor guy Raymond into helping him with the carts. Then she hears him call after her. "Babe! Get me a strawberry sundae too!" She shakes her head with a smile and gets in line.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #pure fluff and humor #upstead doing mundane things #bhhfic #swat!jay au

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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The marriage pact - Old faces

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

Part 1 Old faces | Part 2 >

Disclaimer: none, (re)meet-cute

Author’s note: It’s romcom weekend, okay? 😘

Word count: 1.682

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers.

I’d like to share with you some old wisdom from my nan on how to make: The perfect cake.

First of all: you always make sure you grease up the tin - ‘gotta make it slide right in, slide right out.’ She’d say with a grin so wide that my 12-year-old-self thought she’d tear her face in half. Her eyes would glitter mischievously as her hands moved with those swift and precise movements, leaving no inch of the inner cake tin unbuttered.

‘And! Make sure you always fully preheat the oven, because there’s no shortcuts to the perfect cake.’ She’d tut, pointing at the oven, to which I’d nod most dutifully, preheating the oven as she requested while she’d utter something about making sure you get yourself a good size baking pan; ‘He’s gotta be right for the job and most definitely don’t try to double the recipe. Focus on one good cake, and do NOT overdo it. Nobody likes a dense, overworked cake.’

Then, her hand lightly beating through the cake battery, she’d turn to me and give me a knowing look. ‘If you don’t know what kind of cake you want, you’ll only be in for a disappointment, you know.’ - To which I would start bouncing up and down, eagerly requesting chocolate cake. There was no doubt in my mind what kind of cake I wanted. It always was chocolate cake.

Those were good Sundays. Perfect cake baking Sundays.

And do you know what? Only now, 25 years later, do I realise she was never truly talking about cake. Or baking tins. Ha..no. Silly me. My frisky nan was talking about men. Partners. Love. And perhaps sex, but that leaves you some space for interpretation.

Now, my nan was a great baker. She had five kids. Buns of joy, really.

I, on the other hand, not so much. Despite knowing full well what kind of chocolate cake I want, I just happen to be a very bad baker. And perhaps.. it’s time that I start to learn, because her last advise still rings true in my ears:

‘And timing, my dear, listens more closely than you think.’ She’d wink, kissing grandpa on his cheek, to which he’d grumble some indiscernible acknowledgement, the glimmer in his eyes not hiding the fact he still loved her dearly.

Yes. I’m going to try harder and bake myself the best - birthday - cake, with a bit of nan’s advice. Meanwhile I hope you get all your cake wishes fulfilled, too.

Have a good, single Pringle Friday my dear readers.

A just turned 37,

Ali

A scorching hot September sun washed over the zoo entrance, the Durrell challenge just finished but the media circus far from over.

I yawned, stretching myself out as I watched my fellow journalists and reporters hover like a dark cloud around the person I would be interviewing in some ten minutes from now.

The poor guy hadn’t had a moments rest since he crossed the finish line of the Durrell challenge run and I felt my heart pang with guilt for taking another snippet of his precious time.

Then again, I had a job to fulfil and stupid as it was, I kind of enjoyed writing for the local newspaper. Writing was my thing, and currently I was in charge of writing one of the most beloved blurbs in the paper; Old Faces.

Every week I interviewed a well known inhabitant of the island. George the butcher and his famous spicy sausages, Henriette and her fourteen dogs, Ilias the swimmer - an old man swimming an astounding 10k a day. And a tiny highlight being todays interviewee; Henry, the movie star, back on our beloved Jersey Island to show his support for the local zoo.

Meanwhile for me, he was just Henry, my childhood neighbour, a friend.

—

‘Alice! You’re on!’ A familiar voice startled me and I quickly scrambled up from the little stone wall I had been lounging on, my hands grabbing for my notes and voice recorder as I started making my way through the paparazzi mayhem.

‘Sorry…sorry! Excuse me..Coming through.’ I said, pushing myself past the crowd until I reached the shade of a dark blue canopy, finding that strangely familiar face before me, resting in a chair, his running gear sticking to his muscular physique.

Henry.

He stood up from his chair, reaching out his hand to ..eh...introduce himself? I felt a sour taste in the back of my throat as I realised he didn’t recognise me, his lips pulled up into a friendly, yet professional smile.

Yaiks..Okay.

Don’t mind it, Ali, the poor guy can’t help it.

‘Hi..’ I awkwardly moved my stuff to one arm so I could shake his hand. ‘I’m Alice, local newspaper.’ I greeted, to which he nodded, his smile growing ever so slightly. He pointed at another chair, gesturing me to sit.

‘Please take a..-’ My voice recorder slipped out of my arm as I tried to take my seat, my eyes barely registering as Henry moved with lightning speed to grab onto the cord of the device mid-air. I gasped.

‘Oooph..that could have gone wrong.’ He chuckled, winking at me before he put the recorder back in my hand.

‘Sorry.’ I sniffled, feeling the slightest of blushes creeping over my cheeks. ‘Thanks Hen.’ I muttered without overthinking my words, my eyes already averted to a woman that appeared on my right - his left.

‘Hey!’ She smiled - Samantha, a chubby and bubbly lady I had known since my toddler years.

‘Hi Sam.’ I smiled in turn, seeing she held onto a sort of timing-device.

‘Okay, so..we’re a bit busy as you see. You’ve got four minutes..starting..eh..’ She clicked a button. ‘..now! Have fun!’ She cheered, winking cheekily at Henry.

‘Oh.. yea yea. Okay thanks.’ I nodded, my brow furrowing ever so slightly as Sam sauntered off again. Quickly I straightened my back, my sweaty fingers fumbling with that darn voice recorder - I really should get a new one.

‘So. Eh Henry! Hi! Welcome back!’ I started, offering him a smile, my fingers still trying to get the tiny buttons to cooperate.

Click. Set. Start.

Okay, here goes.

Henry smiled his most warm, Henry-esque smile in return. ‘Thank you..Alice.’ He hesitated a moment, as if deciding what to make of my name. Perhaps because he started to recognise me..or...perhaps he was just tired, trying to memorise all these three million names that wished for his attention today.

Yea..probably that was just me, wishfully thinking.

He didn’t seem to recognise me, and that was..okay.

I swallowed. ‘Okay. So. To give you a short insight in this interview. I write the Old Faces blurb in the paper and I must say that we mostly entertain older readers so ..you know..keep the “young folk language” to a minimum.’ I winked, clicking my pen. Henry shrugged. ‘That shouldn’t be to hard. So what would you like to know, Alice?’

This time my name escaped his lips far more fluently, naturally. I looked at him, our eyes meeting for a few silent, peaceful seconds.

‘I’m curious. What do you miss most from your time living here?’ Our eyes remained locked together as he licked his lips. ‘Hmm.’ He broke our gaze, thinking. ‘..Many things. I had a most wonderful childhood here. The beautiful nature, the ..zoo.’ He nodded at the zoo entrance behind us. ‘..the closeness of the community.’

I nodded, quickly interrupting him as time was sparse. ‘And what particular elements of that community do you miss the most?’

‘The simplicity of it.’ He started, then furrowed his brows. ‘No scratch that. That doesn’t quite capture it. Hmm..I think I mostly really enjoyed how natural it was to be around one another, care about fellows and neighbours, without there being any hidden agendas. You see my life is quite different now. I reside in circles that live and breath fame, fortune, wealth. Which sounds great for outsiders, but for insiders it can be exhausting at times too. For me at least, it can be. Being back here just makes me realise that not all people are like that. And, I enjoy the breath of fresh air it brings.’

‘And the great exercise too.’ I tease, making him chuckle in delight.

‘Yes, and great exercise. That last hill sure was a..challenge.’

‘And how are you going to spend your time here? How long are you staying?’ My pen still hadn’t touched the paper to make notes, our eyes sharing that same deep look again. Deep browns looking into fresh water blues.

He had aged well.

‘Only for the weekend unfortunately. But I’ll use the time to visit family, reacquaint with..old friends..friendly faces.’ His lip tugged in a half smile, near shy. Did he recognise me now? I wasn’t so sure, and perhaps I could have asked, but it wasn’t so - our little interaction was abruptly stopped as Sam reappeared.

‘And... that’s it! Thank you so much for coming Ali!’ She spoke, practically squeezing herself between me and Henry. I blinked away from Henry’s gaze and quickly looked up, realising this was it. This was all I’d get to see of Henry.

Alright then.

‘Thanks Sam.’ I smiled, quickly grasped my things and stopping my voice recording before thanking Henry.

‘Enjoy your stay!’ I laughed as he watched me grasp onto the voice recorder for dear life.

‘Thanks..eh..Ali.’

Once again that unnecessary hesitation before saying my name - though this time it was even more stomach-flutter-worthy, because he used my nickname. My childhood nickname.

I could only shoot him the quickest glance over my shoulder before Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder, her voice muttering some sappy gossip into my unhearing ear.

I didn’t hear a word she said, because my mind was racing.

Did he recognise me? Did he recognise me? I couldn’t tell, his mouth slightly agape as if he were to ask something, but Sam had already coached me away.

And there I went. Back to my failing, cake baking life.

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#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill meet cute #henry cavill x author #henry cavill x writer #fanfiction #the marriage pact #jersey islands #kal #henry bear #fluff #romcom

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penname-artist · 3 years ago

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First Light - Ch. 1 [Planes fanfic]

Rated M for mild language, innuendo, sex and alcohol depictions (non-explicit), and dark themes

Summary: Light (noun) 1. the natural agent that stimulates sight and makes things visible. 2. an expression in someone's eyes indicating a particular emotion or mood.

Chapter One: The Way It Has To Be

Sunlight hit the dirty panes of glass against the hanger, condensing all the incoming light into one place; right under Blade's eye. With an irritated groan, the half-asleep chopper shifted to get away from the obnoxious rays. As he settled further to the right on his mat, he felt another being shift closer to him, their bodies faintly pressed together. Confusion hit him, and the Agustawestland cracked open an eye to the stranger. He nearly jumped out of his paint, while Nick slept soundly next to him.

It was a long night, he remembered. A lot happened. It was a dark time for him, and the aftermath was still quite sore to the touch against the plating in his side. The opposing side to Nick, thank Chrysler.

He eventually debated scooting away from the smaller helicopter, gingerly removing himself from the mattress to go start a pot of coffee. He was surprised no one was rapping at his door to get moving.

His plan backfired, however, when the Hughes stirred, brought out of his slumber from the loss of heat beside him. Blade couldn't find time to hide before sleepy, dark eyes laid upon him.

It took him a moment to process the white and blue helicopter standing in front of him, but once his brain fired up, he snapped to attention like he'd been caught doing something dirty.

"Did-- did I-" He hastily shifted between the bed space next to him and Blade, "Did we-"

"No." Blade answered flatly. "We didn't." He could feel heat under his cheeks in spite of himself.

Nick blinked a few times, likely trying to pull back the last thing he remembered. "Oh..Oh, right!"

'Right. The cutting.' Blade thought to himself. He scowled at the floor, irritated. At what, he didn't know.

Nick scrambled up from the mat, stretching on his skids with a yawn.

"Big day today, huh?"

"..yeah." Blade muttered. He was already done with this conversation.

Nick stayed just long enough to suck down a can of joe, awkward silence never vacating the two. As soon as he finished, he teetered at the doorway, hesitating to say something.

"...I stand by what I said last night." He said. Blade nodded, letting the words go in one eardrum and out the other. He heard Nick click his tongue, and caught the edges of a sigh, before he hopped off, back out of Blade's life. Back to being strangers, the way it should be.

Or rather, the way he felt it had to be.

Something had changed between them. Through the mask of a fictional character, a persona put on for the cameras, Nick could still see the change in Blade. Something cold was driving him away, just as something warm and fuzzy was pulling Nick in. And it was driving the younger absolutely insane.

But work never got any easier, for either of them. If anything, it got harder, especially for Blade. Not only was he wary of Nick trying to make friends out of him, but he feared his secret, his "coping mechanism", would get out. Nick knew the truth, had seen it first-tread. He didn't know how much he trusted him with that knowledge though. It was bound to come loose, knowing that gossip.

Such fear drove him to watch the younger chopper from a distance for the rest of the day. He would never let him get too far out of his line of sight, though. Never far enough that he didn't know what he was doing, who he was talking with, or what about. He observed him like a researcher overlooking an endangered specimen: the famed Nickolas Lopezius, in its natural habitat.

But he didn't intervene, either. He took every opportunity to avoid talking to him, avoid eating near him, and above all else, avoid his eyes. They were like little dark voids of inescapable terror, the kinds of terror that came in the form of innocence and compassion, and took a hold of you only when it was too late to get out. He would not be fooled by those candy-coated monsters.

He got close though, once. Too close for comfort. Just as he'd settled in his place to sip quietly at a can during break, he had unwittingly allowed himself to scan his surroundings, taking in valuable information.

It was the usual spread; the large hangar, dedicated to most of their props and movie things, was converted halfway into a dining space, with spare mats scattered across the floor for cars and aircraft alike. By the time he'd let his landing gear lock in place so he could recline against them, the place was halfway to capacity with various crew members.

Most of the actors didn't eat here, except for Blade. Too common for such high brows, he thought. They'd rather go out and eat in the barren public for the world to see. He would rather suffer a meal here than anything; they wouldn't let him go back to his own hangar to be alone and antisocial.

That must have been why Nick's presence in the widespread scan of the room startled him. He doubled back, fixating on the helicopter now seated across from him. 'He's not supposed to be here!' He groaned inwardly. What could he possibly be doing here, if not trying to make a beeline for him?

And then fate tripped him up something dirty. Just as he had considered that more time had passed on him watching Nick than he thought, Hughes finally looked up to lock eyes with him.

It all happened so fast. Blade dropped his gaze, like he'd been caught with his boy parts hanging out, feeling his face go red as his core beat in his eardrums. He remained frozen in place, staring darkly at the coffee table in front of him, rereading the label on his tin can until it no longer made any sense. 'stupid! Stupid!!' he scolded himself, furrowing his brows towards the half-empty can.

Once his nerves finally settled, he dared to look back up and around him. It was getting on for time to head back to the set, but he didn't have the appetite to finish his oil. Nick really scared the shit out of him.

He only looked back in the direction where he had been when he got up to leave. He deliberately dodged the spot in his line of sight, looking at the clock on the wall again, a car here, a plane there, that plant by the door he's doubled back to a dozen times in the last ten minutes, and finally to the table and away again.

He rushed out the door with the image of Nick's worried frown imprinted in his mind.

#blade ranger #bladexnick #blazin blade ranger #nick lopez #nick loopin' lopez #slow burn #romance #gay couple #gay

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Peace Talks, Pt. 1 (3/5/2021)

Alastor #1 (@usedhearts) contacts Alastor #2 (hi there) to ask #2 about why he intervened in #1’s fight with Sir Pentious (who #2 happens to be dating secretly). They meet up to discuss the fight, why that Alastor & Pent hate each other, and potentially how to reduce hostilities between them so these fights don’t keep happening.

(Part 2 where my Alastor goes and gets Sir Pentious’s side is here.)

usedhearts

🩸Alastor, I think we need to have a chat.

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 What luck, I've been telling myself the same thing for a couple of weeks! Let's do lunch. I know a very discreet little café that loves to leave me alone and would be twice as happy to do so with two of us there.

usedhearts

🩸Send me the address, I'll meet you there.

dontasktheradiodemon

[Sends an address, as well as a picture of a map with the location circled in sharpie.]

usedhearts

🩸See you soon.

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I'll be waiting!

–––

dontasktheradiodemon

The café was an ugly place, in Alastor's opinion—concrete floors and walls, black-painted wooden booths, naked bulbs hanging from simple pipes—but attempting to look like abandoned warehouses was the fashion of cutting-edge restaurants these days, wasn't it? And anyway the coffee was decent and the employees didn't run out the back door when Alastor showed up, so it would do. He got a cup of coffee and some ridiculous fancy toast, claimed a booth, and waited.

usedhearts

He didn't have to wait long-- but a few minutes later and Leclerq was walking in as well, receiving more than a few double takes. He'd swapped his glasses back for his monocle, and his coat was on-- the only thing differentiating him from his alternate his slight longer, wavy hair. Leclerq's smile turned a bit mischievous as the staff looked between him and Alastor, trying to be sure they weren't seeing double. He made his way over to the table and sat, ordering a cup of the strongest they had, black, from a passing staff person.

"So, my dear self, how's things?" He asked, looking at his gloves nails, feigning nonchalance.

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor smiled innocently at the staff's baffled glances. What, never seen two radios at once?

He beamed a little more brightly at his alternate—although there was wariness underneath it. He knew full well what this was about; what he didn't know yet was how, exactly, his alternate had taken it, or how bad the consequences were going to be.

"All going well! I can't complain." Walking on cloud nine and head a little foggy, in fact, but he was sure his alternate didn't want to know the details and even more sure he didn't want to share them. "And how about you—doing well, I hope?" With a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, "Recovered from those snake bites, I hope?" No point beating around the bush for *too* long.

usedhearts

The beaming grin was normal for Alastors in general, but considering the reason they were there, seeing his alternate looking at _him_ like that was a bit...strange. Leclerq crossed his legs, and took a sip of the coffee set in front of him as soon as it arrived.

"Yes, recovered. Only took me a day to get back into working order. I suppose Pentell is doing fine now, considering he posted about his successful shed." He took a breath, smile firm as he folded his hands in his lap.

"Why did you interfere? You could've let someone else stop us. Charlie could've taken care of it herself, even, if she hadn't been panicking. Why not talk her down and get her to do it, instead of showing up yourself? And so _quickly_, too. We'd hardly even maimed each other by the time you showed up." Leclerq's eyes narrowed a fraction. "I simply must know why go through all that trouble? Explain it to me."

dontasktheradiodemon

“Glad to hear it!” He didn’t respond directly to the comment about the shed, only offering a vague shrug as if he wouldn’t know. He didn’t even flinch at the revelation that his alternate knew Sir Pentious’s real name... although he was certainly going to ask Telly about it later.

And his alternate had given him room to wiggle around with his answer. How very polite. They’d dance around it a bit. “*If she hadn’t been panicking.*” He scoffed. “That’s quite a big ‘if,’ isn’t it! Sure, I could have wasted three minutes of my time talking her down, and then twiddled my thumbs while waiting to see what she’d do—waste even more time trying to talk down the both of you? Join the fight herself and cause even more property damage? Or, I could resolve the whole thing with no further trouble in a mere fifteen seconds.”

usedhearts

Leclerq leaned in, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. His head tilted at an odd angle and he picked up his coffee and took a drink.

"Yes, that's probably how it would've gone. But why stop it in the first place? Not like either of us can actually kill the other. Surely you weren't worried about _me_. If it had been me, I would've shown up with popcorn and a lawn chair. Fights between demons are free entertainment after all."

He sat back, arms crossing over his chest. "So, I'll ask again. _Why_ did you interfere?"

dontasktheradiodemon

“I have a question for *you* first.” He sat forward, lacing his hands under his chin, fixing his alternate with a keen, genuinely curious look. “It’s relevant, I assure you—but why fight him at all? It can’t be because he’s a challenging opponent—without his tin cans, there’s nothing stopping you from tying him in knots. And I don’t know about *your* policies, but *I* don’t tend to attack the physically weak unless I’m starving and don’t think a total stranger will miss a few pounds of meat—*or,* they’ve done something so outrageously offensive as to earn it. Now, he’s clearly no stranger, so the first explanation doesn’t apply—but for the life of me I can’t imagine *what* he could have done to warrant that kind of response? Or what *you* did to make *him* attack first, if that’s how it happened—but that seems even less likely to me, I can’t see him picking a fight without a dozen lasers at the ready.”

usedhearts

"He _does_ start it sometimes," Leclerq said, immediately. His smile twitched and his eyes narrowed again, before he gave a small huff and looked away.

"I suppose I knew it would come to this eventually, what with the both of us making friends in the same circles." He moved his monocle, taking it off to clean the lens, or so it seemed. "We used to be friends. When I first dropped in, he was an Overlord, and my massacre helped him gain some more ground, inadvertently. I started getting invited to all the big Overlord parties, and I went because I was still new to Hell and all. We met and hit it off, became friends and whatnot. About a decade later, we hardly spoke, and then V[BEEP]x dropped in and started his rise to power. Pentell was already washed up by that point, desperate, so he..."

Leclerq sighed and shook his head, putting his monocle back on, his smile turning wane. "He helped V[BEEP]x secretly convert some of the old radio stations to broadcast tv instead-- I don't know if it's the same for you, but for me, it felt like someone was tearing out pieces of my soul and roasting them with ten thousand volts. I don't know why or what V[BEEP]x promised him, but obviously he never got it, considering his standing hasn't changed since then."

Leclerq shrugged, feigning nonchalance again. "That's why I hate him."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up. “And a fair reason to hate him!” He himself didn’t hold any radio stations—had *never* held any—but just *imagining* stations slaughtered like sacrificial animals on the altar of network television made his heart squeeze in pain.

That long ago, stations had often broadcasted both radio and TV simultaneously. Hell, well into the seventies Alastor had considered a smattering of TV stations under his own protection because they shared a roof with a radio station. For the stations to be converted to broadcast TV in a way that *killed* their potential to broadcast radio—that wasn’t just the new guy in Hell wanting to increase his own power; that was a deliberate effort to decrease the Radio Demon’s. That was far worse than simply trying to get in good with two different overlords and accidentally screwing over one in the process.

“You said you hardly spoke—had you had some falling out...? Not that it’s any sort of mitigating factor, not for an action on *that* scale, but—well, nothing of the sort ever happened *here,* so I’m simply trying to understand the narrative! The treachery is self-evident, but depending on if it was motivated by hot vengeance or cold ambition... well, it certainly changes the *flavor* of the treachery, doesn’t it?”

usedhearts

He hadn't expected sympathy, or understanding, but then again, this was himself. If anyone would understand his pain, it was another version of himself. Leclerq felt himself relax, at least fractionally, and he picked up his cup for another sip of coffee.

"Yes, there was. Around, oh, '45 or so, Pentell was gearing up for a big push to conquer more territory-- he had a whole plan and everything, you know how he is, prepared every meticulous detail. _I_ was one of those details, of course. He was counting on my support when he set things into motion and I....well, I didn't show." He shrugged a bit, taking another sip.

"I'd gotten bored of waiting, I was still relatively new to Hell, and a decade still seemed like a long time-- especially for one such as us, you know how it is, don't you?-- and so I'd picked up some other hobbies, started doing other things. And I just didn't want to help anymore. I was _bored_, I never wanted to conquer Hell! But Pentell had been banking on my power backing him, and when I didn't arrive, well...."

His smile twisted a bit before he sighed. "It all sort of blew up in his face. He lost almost all of his territory and his Overlord title was stripped-- he became a laughing stock overnight. So, I suppose I betrayed him first, but this IS Hell. Who can you trust in Hell, except yourself?" His smile twitched into something wry for a moment as he met his alternate's eyes, then looked away.

dontasktheradiodemon

And his eyebrows twitched higher. He’d gotten *bored*? Bored of Sir Pentious, of all people? How in the world was that possible? How does one get *bored* of having a front-row seat to the greatest drama in Hell since whatever the hell happened in *Paradise Lost*?

Would he himself have left as quickly and carelessly if he’d gotten bored? Even if he couldn’t understand how *that person* in *particular* had bored his alternate—yes, if he *did* get bored of someone, he’d leave like that. Would he himself have stayed long enough to get as enthralled as he did if he’d met Sir Pentious in, what, the ‘30s, rather than in ‘51? He didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d have lost interest, but he didn’t know. Learning to exist in Hell had been a process. Maybe those eighteen years had made a difference.

“Well! If I were him, I’d want to hit you where it hurts too!” He laughed wryly. “And if I were *you*, I’d never forgive him for it, either.”

usedhearts

Leclerq took drained his coffee the rest of the way, holding his cup out for a refill-- which a staff member came over to give him as quickly as demonly possible. He set the new cup on the table, holding it between his hands.

"Yes, so, as you can see neither of us can forgive the other, and now we're expecting to exist near one another more regularly and tempers flare at the slightest provocation, etcetera, etcertera." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his smile tight and close lipped.

"I know that many of you are now mutual friends with the both of us, and I've been trying to be on my best behavior when at the Hotel, as we've a truce there, but the old resentments bubble up and we go at it. Generally, it's me blowing up his ship but since we've been seeing one another in person, it's just gotten to basic brawls." A small growl slipped out and he clenched his hand, cracking the cup and spilling hot coffee all over, though he didn't seem to care.

"I should have better control, but with him I just-- I see red--" A snort. "Or more red than usual at least-- and then we're tumbling around like feral animals."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor watched without a twitch of his expression as his alternate’s cup cracked. Yes, he certainly could comprehend the anger.

But when he tried to imagine the anger behind that shattering grip turned on Telly—his blood boiled.

“Yes, well. That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

usedhearts

Leclerq grabbed some napkins, wiping off his gloved hand and sitting back, watching the coffee spread across the table. He put some more napkins between him and the coffee puddle-- no use letting it get on him-- and sighed.

"That's the problem, yes." He looked over at him and arched a brow. "And you still haven't answered my question-- why did you intervene?"

dontasktheradiodemon

His smile tightened. “Well, like you said—quite a few people are mutual friends with the both of you now! And while it’s an utter delight to watch *strangers* fight, there’s nothing pleasant about it when it involves friends! Particularly if one friend is at risk of being reduced to bone toothpicks and flesh confetti. And that’s even *more* the case when, from my perspective, the fight simply came out of nowhere! Who knows what will happen in a fight like that?” He shrugged broadly. “Now, typically if a friend’s in a fight, I’m happy to lend a hand—but it’s tricky if I’m on good terms with both combatants. The best thing I can do then is ensure they’re separated.”

usedhearts

Leclerq hummed, the noise droning in his static, his arms crossing again. His finger began to tap against his upper arm, and his foot tapped again-- fidgeting tics that were showing themselves in his alternate's presence.

"I suppose you're right. Fine, I accept that explanation." His cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "But I don't know how Pentell and I are going to co-exist when we're at each others' throats. The Hotel's been a test run and we've had at least three fights since he started making repairs and renovations there. Any bright ideas in that big bulb of yours?"

dontasktheradiodemon

*Three fights.* He tilted his head as he thought. “No, not yet.” Maybe he could persuade Telly to stop helping with the hotel upkeep. There were so many more important things he could be spending that time and effort on, anyway. Sure, Alastor was at the hotel, but only because he *wanted* to watch a train wreck happen in action—but there was no reason for Sir Pentious to waste his time tightening the bolts on the locomotive engine when it was chugging toward a fiery crash. “But I’m sure we both agree that this can’t keep happening, don’t we?”

usedhearts

"Yes, I agree. Especially if people are going to get in the middle now-- I can't even think if it was Valera next time, while she's, well..." He motioned with his hands to pantomime a pregnant belly. "I don't want her trying to get between us while we go at it-- we're both vicious in the moment."

His foot tapped a little faster and he huffed. "Perhaps I can just avoid him for now...and I'll try to doubly make sure I have a tight leash on myself if he is around. And perhaps you could talk to him, you two are chummy now, aren't you? We just need to learn to....keep our heads better."

dontasktheradiodemon

Oh right, this alternate had been getting chummy with Valera, hadn’t he? About every alternate but himself was. Just his rotten luck, wasn’t it.

“If you haven’t *already* been trying to avoid him, yes, I recommend it.” He scooted his unfinished coffee over to his alternate. Here, you look anxious, have a little more caffeine and calm down. “No promises, I haven’t the foggiest idea what he’s going to say about *you*—but I’ll see what I can do.”

usedhearts

He took the cup gratefully and downed it, taking a breath after. "Probably something along the lines of--" His own voice cut out and then, in a perfect imitation of Sir Pentious's voice, he said. "HE DESSSERVED IT!"

Leclerq snorted and his own voice was back when he spoke again. "I may have cast the first stone, but teaming up with V[beep]x is just.....scummy."

dontasktheradiodemon

Alastor huffed. “Not to defend the unforgivable—but ol’ blockhead had only just died, hadn’t he? In my neck of the woods, it took until the seventies before he started showing his true colors. Taking down stations, sure, Sir Pentious should have known better—but doing it with *him*? There was no way to know what kinds of things he’d do *before* he started doing them.”

And who knew what promises Vox might have made? No doubt the sort of promises he made to every business and network he added to his growing mega-corporation. Fame, wealth, power, a treasured and valued position in his inner circle.

Alastor thought he was beginning to detect a pattern, here. Pentell, lonely and unappreciated; and then one man after another, charismatic and compelling, telling Pentell how much they adored his brilliant inventions; each of them using him—for sex, for entertainment, for power—before losing interest and casting him aside.

It was only when he heard something crack that he realized he’d started squeezing one of his fists in the other like a stress ball. He stretched his fingers and surreptitiously repaired the damage. But in his head, over and over, all he could hear were the words *how dare—how dare—how dare—*

usedhearts

"Yes, he had, and he's a cunning rat even moreso than that boyfriend of his." Leclerq sneered at the thought of the VVVs, and held the empty coffee cup, just to have something to hold on to. "Though he started being really ruthless once he found Valentino-- that was in the 80s here, I'm not sure when it happened for you. They really bring out the worst in each other, and not in the fun way."

His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the crack, looking down at his alternate's hands. "You alright there?" He asked, a little quieter than before.

dontasktheradiodemon

“About the same time, late seventies or early eighties. I wasn’t paying attention to celebrity gossip at the time. All I know is they’d made it into the toxic end of things by the mid-eighties.”

He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers, all fine. “So sorry, I know, knuckle-cracking, nasty habit to get into. Mother would be scolding me.”

usedhearts

"I only know because I was friends with Madame by that point and Valentino started out as one of her's." He tapped his fingers against the cup, still fidgety despite the caffeine.

"Well, since we hashed that out, is that it? Or did you want to brainstorm ways to get me and Pentell able to coexist in the same space without biting each other's heads off?"

dontasktheradiodemon

And Alastor only knew because he’d witnessed the results of their toxic sides up close and in person. He decided to keep that to himself. As much as he hated Vox, that wasn’t his dirt to dish.

“I’m not sure what there is to brainstorm,” Alastor said wryly. “If you’re in the same space, don’t be; if you have to be, don’t interact. If you haven’t been doing even *that* much before, I’d say that’s a good starting point, don’t you?”

usedhearts

"We have, since we made the truce, at least when inside the Hotel. But the second one of us steps outside, it's on." He leaned back in his seat a bit.

"We never made an official deal for our truce, but I gave my word, and I keep it, to the letter. We never fight inside the Hotel now-- we take it outside. Though the lawn isn't much better. I suppose I can try to keep the truce up outside the Hotel. If I think about it like that, perhaps it'll be easier to keep myself in check..."

dontasktheradiodemon

He fights a grimace. “Well. ‘Do what you’re already doing, except even more so, and hope sheer willpower makes up the difference’ doesn’t exactly sound to me like a winning strategy. Especially when what you’re already doing has resulted in three fights.”

usedhearts

"I'm not sure what other options we have, at least for now. Avoidance and sheer willpower will have to do for the time being." He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Talk to Pentell, I'm sure he's got insight from his side of things for you. Perhaps there's...something that can be done, to at least make things less hostile between us. You can tell him I'd be open to negotiations-- for the sake of our mutual friends. But for now, I think I need to go-- I need to kill something."

He stood, dusting off his jacket. "Is there anything else, my dear other?"

dontasktheradiodemon

He stood as well. “Yes, one thing—who’s going to pick up the bill?” Studio laughter. “Hah! No, nothing I can think of. Just try not to start any more brawls. I don’t want to make a hobby out of refereeing.”

usedhearts

"That'd be terrible! You'd look horrendous in horizontal stripes!" His own studio kicked in with their laughs, and Leclerq reached a hand to pat his alternate's shoulder.

"Speak again, soon, my dear me! So long!" And with that he faded into the shadows.

dontasktheradiodemon

He offered his other a half-bow in farewell—and then headed for the exit the more conventional way. Seemed like he needed to go have another conversation.

#usedhearts #chat log

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luckyjak · 5 years ago

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hiatus baking

Week One: Fjord-Cakes

I am, by nature, a baker at heart. I love sweet things and I have a massive sweet tooth. So do not be surprised if everything I make for @criticalbakes is sweet in nature.

For Fjord, I decided to make a cupcake.

I’m not sure why thinking of Fjord made me think of coffee, but it did. Perhaps it’s his “team dad” energy, or maybe it’s just Travis that makes me think of coffee? Regardless, in celebration of Fjord Stone, Captain Tusktooth himself, I’ve made for you coffee-flavored cupcakes with a green frosting and a sea-salt caramel filling.

Recipe below the cut:

(this recipe makes six cupcakes, because I live in a house of three and we do not need 20 cupcakes. Adapted and modified from this recipe here.)

1/2 cup all purpose flour 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/8 teaspoon salt 1 large egg 1/4 cup granulated sugar 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 2 sticks of butter, softened 1/4 cup coffee or instant espresso powder in water 1 cup powdered sugar 1-3 tablespoons of milk or heavy cream, depending Caramel sauce Sea salt Hot fudge sauce (optional)

THE NIGHT BEFORE:

Make a cup of coffee. Drink all of it except for 1/4 cup. If you find you do not want coffee at 10 o’clock at night, heat 1/4 cup water up and put a little less than a teaspoon of espresso powder in it.

While you are up, pull out 2 sticks of butter to soften.

Additionally, pull out chicken to thaw so you can make curry tomorrow.

THE DAY OF:

Take four tablespoons of softened butter and 1/4 cup of sugar. Beat that together with an electric mixer (or your hand, you muscle-person you). When butter and sugar are completely combined (you don’t see any sugar, just a butter sugar mix), add 1 egg and 1 tablespoon vanilla. Beat until combined.

In another bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. That’s what the recipe says, anyway. I didn’t do that because I don’t like dirtying dishes. Instead, I just dumped the baking powder and the salt into the egg sugar butter mixture.

Slowly incorporate the cold coffee and the flour, alternating between the two while the mixer is running.

When all is finished mixing, divide semi-evenly into 6 cupcake holes in a tin. In order to get the sixth cupcake, you must scrape every last bit of batter out of the bowl, the spoon, the paddle attachment, and your soul, but six cupcakes will be formed.

Bake at 350 for 12-15 minutes. Allow to cool completely. While they are cooling, wash your mixing bowl because you only own one.

As the cupcakes are cooling, realize you’ve made curry at lot recently, so decide to make honey sesame chicken instead, and start making a marinade for that, too.

Once the cupcakes are not scalding hot anymore, use a piping tip and a chopstick to create a hole in the center of the cupcake, like so:

Fill the hole with store bought caramel sauce. Sprinkle the top with a little bit of sea salt.

Realize you are doing all of this just for internet points, a very real and valuable commodity that most people want. Decide to try a frosting recipe you’ve never made before but sounds neat. Realize your folly ten minutes later, when instead of frosting you’ve made sweet green butter.

Cry about it.

Realize you are never going to get an A in internet points with that attitude. Scrap the frosting you have, and pull out another stick of butter to soften in the microwave for thirty seconds. Blend 1.5 sticks of softened butter with 1 cup of powdered sugar. Add milk if the mixture is too thick.

Realize it doesn’t look anything like Fjord. Panic about it. Add green food coloring. Add a lot of green food coloring. Keep adding green food coloring. Add a dot of yellow and a dot of blue because maybe that will help.

Add frosting to piping bag with a piping tip in the bag already. Search the house for scissors so you can actually pipe cupcakes.

Realize you’ve overfrosted some cupcakes when you get to the last one and have barely enough frosting left for this one.

Clean your counter and strategically move everything so you can take a cool photo of your pretty cupcake. Decide it needs a drizzle. Open up a jar of hot fudge sauce from the fridge and add a drizzle. Take several photos.

Attempt to cut the cupcake in half so you can take a cool photo of the caramel center oozing out. Realize that didn’t work as your cupcake flops upside down when you cut it in half instead, stuck as it is on the cupcake wrapper.

Offer half a cupcake to a nearby twelve year old. When the twelve year old declines the cupcake, eat the entire thing by yourself as lunch.

#critical role #criticalbakes #mass silliness #fjord stone

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