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gothamhappiness · 1 month ago

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Your new family (Part VI)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of stress, not a lot of plot here but little snippets of moments with all the kids

You were a little bit stressed out to meet all of Bruce’s children but you also felt like it was going to be alright. Jason was there, always by your side. Dick and Tim liked you and they had said only good things about you to the others. Especially Dick, because he was well aware that Jason wouldn’t agree to spend time with him again without you. The fact Bruce was much nicer since you were together was also working in your favour. Alfred was approving of you too and he had personally asked all of the children to treat you well.

The children were also aware that Bruce would be very unhappy and disappointed with them all if things didn’t go well. It was obviously very important for him.

At first, everyone was a little bit silent and awkward. It was the first time a civilian was introduced to the whole family. And technically, they already knew a lot about you without knowing you, so they weren’t too sure how to act around you. They didn’t want to scare you off by showing they made research about you… and stalked you.

After a little while, you gently teased them all, saying that for vigilantes they were quite shy. It quickly put them at ease.

Things went actually a lot better than you thought and you could tell no one really believed you would that easily get along with the family. You felt Bruce relaxing through the dinner, his hand on your thigh under the table. His warmth helped you feel safer around everyone as well.

Soon enough they all were chatting around and asking you questions. It was a true interrogation but you didn’t mind. For once, you were the one answering questions and not the other way around. It was fun.

Damian was the only silent one. He wasn’t too sure how to deal with you. He didn’t need you. He wasn’t used to seeing his father around someone. He wasn’t too certain how to react when his father kissed the back of your hand with such love shining in his eyes.

You noticed his uncertainty but you weren’t too worried about it. You knew you were fitting just right in there. You had never felt like that before, or just with your grandma. It was a nice change in your life. And you were really eager to start spending some time with all of them, like you were doing with Jason already.

You went to concerts with Dick. He wanted to go to those classic piano concerts but no one was eager to follow him. He had asked you, half certain you would politely decline his offer. But on the contrary, you had been more than happy to agree to come with him. Your eagerness warmed his heart. It had been a long time he hadn’t had a motherly figure in his life, and he knew you were fitting perfectly. Since then, whenever one of you wanted to go to a concert - no matter what kind - you had to go together. It was your thing. None of you went to so many concerts before, but it was a pretext to spend time together. You talked a lot before the concerts too and Dick could only agree with Jason: you were easy to talk to.

You played video games with Tim. You were waiting for Bruce to come back from patrol one night and you were bored out of your mind. You found Tim playing in the living room. At first, you just asked him if you could hang around. He agreed without thinking much of it, before offering you to play with him. He needed another player and no one else was around at that time. It appeared you were a gamer and you enjoyed fighting against one other. But you enjoyed working together on co-op games even more. You spent a lot of evenings with Tim on the couch, screaming together when you were losing or winning. Everyone knew better than to annoy the two of you when you were gaming.

You watched movies with Stephanie. Stephanie was clearly not too certain how to be around you. Things weren’t always easy with Bruce and after the way her parents betrayed her, she felt like she couldn’t trust adults any longer. But Jason loved you so much that she thought she could give you a chance. Watching movies allowed the two of you to bond, without having to interact too much at first. Then you started to talk a lot about what you just saw, and then about everything else. Watching movies snuggled up against you started to become Stephanie’s comfort zone and you were more than happy to give her that. Even though you were a tease, you never said anything when she fell asleep on you.

You took dancing lessons with Cassandra. It was clear the girl was a classic dancer; she was really amazing to watch. You loved to dance too, even though you never really took any kind of lessons, so you thought it would be a nice activity to do together. Cass instantly agreed. It allowed her to observe you and your body language. She had more fun than she thought, and she offered to keep going dancing together. You improved a lot thanks to her help and she liked to discover other kinds of dances thanks to you. You also came to watch her repetitions and her representations. She started to always look for you in the spectators, happy to be taken care of that way.

You did puzzles with Duke. You started to spend a lot more time at the manor, even when Bruce wasn’t around. You were currently doing a mind game on the living room table as Duke went by. You started to chat around and you saw Duke was quite eager to play with you, so you invited him to settle by your side. Once you were done, he looked for a puzzle he hadn’t finished yet so you could do it together. When the weather was pretty bad in Gotham, you quite liked to get some hot cacao and to do puzzles with Duke. Because you both were pretty good with puzzles, you had to always find more challenging ones. Looking for them was also part of the fun.

For Damian, things were a little bit more difficult, as he made it clear, he had no interest in spending time with you. It hurt you a little more than you wanted to admit but didn’t say anything at first. You eventually went to an animal care centre open to the public with Damian and Bruce. Bruce offered for you to come with the two of them so his son could get used to your presence. He had noticed he was the only one who was avoiding you. Damian stayed cold to you for a long time, eyeing his father holding your hand with a frown until you let go of Bruce’s hand to come closer to the lions. You really loved the animals and Damian thought you couldn’t be that bad then. That evening, Alfred the cat fell asleep on your lap, so Damian started to be more polite to you. It was the first step. You started to bond over taking care of his pets.

You also met Barbara, Kate, Luke and Lucius.

Kate and you instantly became friends because you were seeing things quite similarly. You also loved to tease everyone together. You had a real complicity between the two of you, and you often hang out together just for the sake of being together. And annoying everyone.

Barbara needed some time to trust you but she could tell you were a good addition to the family. She slowly warmed up to you. You didn’t take it personally and you showed a lot of patience. You were happy to be part of this group of amazing people, and Barbara couldn’t deny how kind you were to all of them.

Luke trusted Duke’s approval of you. You talked a lot around a drink in a bar in Gotham after Dick invited everyone for his birthday. You asked him questions about the army and the way veterans were taken care of. You promised him to do an article about it, which touched Luke a lot.

Lucius and you enjoyed talking together, as ones of the only civilians of the family, with Alfred. For Lucius, it was quite refreshing to be able to discuss with someone who was also shaking their head at the Batfamily’s antics. Lucius quickly saw how much of a good asset you could be for Wayne Enterprises as well and he hoped that at some point you would agree to help Bruce with it.

As months went by, you started to all know each other a lot more. And to start to love one another quite fiercely. You were their Batmon. You got confirmation of it when the children playfully and yet tenderly brought you a bracelet with the bat logo on it. You swore to always wear it.

PART 7

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@Esposadomd

@moraxussy

@resident-cryptid

@legendarypiratecheesecake

@randomnamedmira

@elleclairez

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year ago

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Hi ♥️ can I please request a small snippet which starts with the hero offering themselves to the villain instead of another victim (which was the intention of villain all along). I really love the powerful villain - struggling hero dynamic. Doesn’t need to be in a romantic way…

Sorry if this is oddly specific. Thank you so much for all your stories and snippets so far. They’re sooo good!!! ✨

The hero dodged into the villain's path.

The villain stopped. They looked down, at the hero's palms planted firmly on their chest, then to the hero's eyes.

The hero gulped. They dropped their hands, but didn't step aside.

"Take me instead."

"You." Power crackled off the villain; enough to make the hair on the hero's arms stand on end.

"I'm more valuable," the hero said, holding the villain's gaze. Their heart drummed wildly. "People would pay an awful lot of money for a go at me - you don't need them. I'm a much better ransom."

"And if I don't take you?" the villain asked.

"I'm also more fun."

The villain's lip curled. "And if I don't take you?"

Well, then they would have to fight. The hero was not remotely looking forward to that prospect. It wasn't that they couldn't hold their own - they knew perfectly well that they were generally considered one of the few people who could, when it came to the dazzling monstrosity before them. But, well.

The hero gulped again, squaring their shoulders. Their hands shot, gently, gently, to the villain's chest when the villain began to sidestep them.

The villain's head tilted.

The hero didn't drop their hands that time.

The villain's heartbeat was perfectly steady.

"I'm offering," the hero said.

The curl of the villain's lip sharped a fraction more; a scrap of paper burning up on a fire, containing all the world's most dangerous secrets. "Is that what you're doing right now?"

"Please," the hero said, quieter, just for the two of them.

"Maybe I don't want to ransom you," the villain said, in the same intimate murmur. Their eyes glittered in the city lights. "Maybe I'd rather keep you all to myself."

The hero's stomach swooped. "Just leave them alone."

"You're a predictable little thing, you know that?"

Realisation hit the hero, like the loud click of a lock turning. It didn't make any difference though. Wasn't that the point? To see the trap closing. To stand there anyway. It was already too late.

The hero had known that the villain could be persuaded to take them instead. The villain had known they would offer.

"So are you," the hero said, mouth dry. "In your way."

"My predictability doesn't make me lose." The villain's hand rose up, to cradle the hero's jaw. Their thumb grazed over the hero's skittering pulse. "It doesn't make me so reckless."

The hero shivered.

"There are power-blocking cuffs in my pocket," the villain said. "Take them out."

"You promise you'll leave everyone else alone?"

"You trust me to keep my promises?"

Yes. Not because of any particular honour, but because one did not get the devil's reputation for threats and bargains without proper follow through. "Promise me. Please."

"I promise that I'll leave them alone in this matter if I can have you instead."

It didn't save everyone and everything, the hero knew that. But it would spare the poor fool cowering behind them, braced for the end of all things. They reached into the villain's pocket like one might reach into a nest of vipers.

"Put them on," the villain said.

The hero did. Everything went muffled and sluggish as the auto-lock engaged. The villain's grip on their jaw kept them from crumbling, pitching forward, at the wave of overwhelming weakness that flooded them.

They could vaguely hear gasps, cries of alarm, hissed whispers behind them. Someone might have screamed 'no.' Someone might have been held back. The hero wasn't sure; they could feel their vision tunnelling a little at the edges.

They still held the villain's gaze.

"Good," the villain murmured. They pressed a kiss to the hero's forehead. Then they let go, abruptly.

The hero staggered. They hit their knees with a groan.

Powerless. It struck them that they'd made a terrible mistake. They hadn't expected it to feel like that.

The villain surveyed the crowd, for a beat. They said something - the hero's ears were ringing, they weren't sure what it was. The villain's fingers tangled idly into the hero's hair, then they started walking.

Being dragged hurt. The humiliation of it would have surely hurt, too, if the hero could concentrate on it.

The villain's car beeped it as it unlocked. They let go of the hero's hair. The hero slumped to the ground, reeling.

"Get in the car," the villain said. "Or I'll put you in the boot."

It seemed to take Herculean effort to climb into the passenger seat. It was almost a relief to slump there, sweat beading their forehead, body aching.

The villain got in too, on the driver's side. They took a moment to look the hero over. The power of them had always seemed enormous, but it felt like something else entirely then without the hero's own to match it. A devastating, crushing weight. An unstoppable force.

The villain reached over and clipped the hero's seatbelt in place. They cupped the hero's cheek again, drawing their attention, their scattershot focus.

"Leaving them alone was the least of the promises you should have insisted on," the villain said. "You panicked. You should know better."

The hero groaned again. Their head lilted into the soothing cup of the villain's fingers.

The villain let go, once more, left them bereft, and started the car.

They drove.

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero #villain #writing #story #short story #writing snippet #creative writing

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quidell-fics · 2 months ago

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New Story "Hearts Over Havoc"

A Black Myth: Wukong fanfic

Sun Wukong x Reader

Summary: When the Monkey King and Reader finally steal some much-needed alone time, chaos still somehow inevitably follows.

A fic about love and shenanigans and Sun Wukong being Sun Wukong.

Snippet: Of all the days to be caught off guard by mother nature, it had to be today. A crimson stain bloomed on my underwear, the kind that drew a resigned sigh from deep within as I sat on the toilet, my neck still slightly damp from a certain someone's…affections before I had to disappear into the nearest bathroom when I felt something appear between my legs.

The bad kinda something, too.

Just perfect.

And here I was, marooned in the wrong bathroom—the half bath, the one devoid of my arsenal of period supplies. Under any other circumstances, this would be a minor inconvenience. I’d do the awkward waddle down the hall, toss the evidence in the hamper, plug-er-up, and move on with my life.

But "normal" had become a foreign concept to me.

Ever since I stumbled into another whole ass world—dragged along on a journey with a mischievous monkey boy, who had the nerve to grow into a full-blown monkey man at the end of his journey—I had to recalibrate everything, including how to handle life’s little awkward messes now that I had a new…well, life.

If it weren’t for said monkey man loitering just outside my bathroom door, eager to demonstrate just how deeply he… revered me… I'd be making that waddle of shame, praying my underwear wouldn’t get any more defiled than it already was. But no, my life was now full of surprises, where blood and flattery and the occasional shenanigans collide at the worst possible moments.

His voice, sharp with a teasing edge, slipped through the cracks of my flimsy wooden door, drawn by the sound of my sigh, “Having trouble, are we?” I could practically hear the smirk in his voice… ass monkey. “Need the Great Sage’s assistance with whatever human nonsense you’re dealing with in there?” He followed his words with a chuckle—light, playful, that familiar monkey-like trill. It always had a way of crawling under my skin, setting my cheeks alight -- in a good way.

“This… isn’t something you can help with, unfortunately," I called out, loud enough for him to catch. Not that I needed to raise my voice—his keen ears could’ve picked up a whisper from a mile away, a lesson I learned the hard way.

It really made bathroom trips a joy .

And yes, that was sarcasm.

"Not this drivel again. You really think I’m powerless against your human troubles? Do you doubt the abilities of your Great Sage so much?” His voice crackled with indignation, and I knew if I didn’t calm him down, he’d do something drastic.

And stupid.

Though I couldn't deny that hearing him say ‘YOUR Great Sage’ made my cheeks burn hotter.

But I had to act fast…

“Trust me, this is something you can’t help with. Not unless you know how to stop blood—wait, no! Oh, shi—”

The word ‘blood’ was barely out of my mouth when the door flew open—literally blasted off its hinges, crashing to the floor near where I sat to my right.

#black myth wukong #black myth wukong fanfic #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x oc #sun wukong #monkey king #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 link #hearts over havoc #so nervous

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ara-the-great · 2 months ago

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Savage Kisses

Tw: slightly mentions of gore(?)

(This was originally a snippet from a story I was writing. So i thought why not turn it into Sylus fic.)

You remember when you first realised how much physically stronger Sylus was than you. Of course you knew he was strong but it hadn't really crossed your mind to compare his strength to yours since he was always controlling his strength around you. You didn't know what you expected when he had handed you the package. You had pestered him to let you help him carry the boxes and with much hesitation he had agreed. you had considered youself strong- at least stronger than the ladies your age- and seeing Sylus lift the boxes with ease made you sure that you could help speed along the process. What you didn't consider was the actual weight of the boxes. They were much heavier than they looked - than Sylus had let on. You nearly stumbled trying to pick one of the boxes up.

"Are you sure you want to do this sweetie? I would want you to break your back, at least not like this" Sylus 's brow had furrowed and his brown eyes gleaming with worry and mischief while his hands carried two boxes with ease. He didn't even break a sweat.

Your eyes had strayed to his arms peaking from underneath his folded sleeves. And only one word thing crossed your mind- strength.

And that's all you could think of now. Snug in those very same arms. He held you with such tenderness that it shook you. You wanted more. You wanted wanted to be closer to him, even though you was flush against his body. You could feel each cord of muscle running through him, winding around his bones like the roots of an ancient tree. They were warm, they were close but both of them seeked more. While Sylus feared that he might mistakenly hurt you- treating you like a rose made of thin iridecent frost, you wanted nothing more than to let Sylus rip into you chest and take his place beside you beating heart. You could feel his heart mirroring yous -hammering in his chest right beneath you palms. Just a bit more and you could hold it in you hands. A little more and sh-

"Y/N" with the tender call of you name you looked up at him. He was nothing but tender love and adoration at that moment yet when you looked at him, he looked as if he himself would break apart in the way he restrained himself. They were close enough to feel the the other one's breath fan across thier face. Like some heady drug their heads were dazed, nothing but instinct guiding them on.

As his eyes flickered to you lips, you leaned forward capturing his lips with you own. Urging him silently to let go of his restraints and control. To lose himself. And following you command he did. Like a man dying of thirst, he drank down every single bit of you. The desperation in the way he held you was clear as day. From the way he cradled the back of you head to the way he pull you impossibly close by you lower back. Both of them would either be incapable of feeling or lying to themselves if they had not felt how their veins seemed to be carrying molten lava along it. How each of them has no thoughts in their head except for the other. How all they now felt was the spark from eachothers skin. He swallowed each and every sound you had relinquished to him and heeded every tug you gave. They were a formidable clash of tongue and teeth. Fighting- no, dancing in unison.

you had steadied yourself by grasping his arms, your nails digging in to them in the process. But that didn't deter him, instead it ushered him further, just like you intended. You wanted to consume him whole and you intended to let him do the same.

"Sylus " you called out breathlessly, breaking off the kiss which felt nothing short of being electrocuted and drowned at the same time. You peered up at his eyes, dark, unmoving from you own. It felt like that little tint of red he had in his eyes was swallowed up entirely by darkness- by need. He leaned closer again but instead of you lips he set a kiss on you forehead. You whispered a silent prayer to the heavens for you knew you would not survive long if this man were to love you. Though you was athletic, you heart had never beat so fast. It felt as if it would explode to a million pieces Infront of him.

"You terrify me." He whispered his confession breathlessly by pressing his forehead on yous. "I have never felt so much, and yet felt so helpless. You terrify me Y/N . I fear I become nothing short of a beast at your command. You have my heart in one hand and my mind on the other. You have shaken me to my core. And you have made me loose any sense of sanity for all my thoughts are filled with you.... Look what have you done to me" he bought up a shaking hand to you fluyoud cheeks to caress it. "Y/n what have you done to me?" He smiled

#THE WAY ID BITE THIS MAN #I NEED HIM VISCERALLY #I GET AGGRESSIVE WHENEVER I LOVE SMTH #lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus headcanons #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus l&ds #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x y/n #sylus x you

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harstyle · 3 months ago

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The Beginning of Something New

Summary: You and Harry Styles could not be more different— so maybe that's the reason you've hated each other from the start. One conversation on a rooftop is all it takes for you to realize that you may have more in common than you've cared to admit.

Word-count: around 3.3k (she's short)

Warnings: they fight a lot lol, mentions of alcohol and drugs

A/N: Hi there! It's been a while. I wrote this short thing on vacation and felt like posting it. It doesn't really follow a time structure or anything, it's just random little snippets of their relationship to the big confessions at the end but I think it's cute, so I hope you enjoy! Both reader and Harry are in uni and Harry is the lead singer of a band that performs in clubs and pubs around the city. I’d say they’re around 20.

credits to the owner of this photo!

You can feel his eyes on you, daring.

You’re trying not to entertain it, to keep your eyes on Luke, to feign interest in his life. But it’s so difficult; it’s so difficult with him standing across the room, this weird hue in the air, this magnetic pull he has on you. And it doesn’t matter that you’re touching Luke’s arm or dragging a finger down his chest— all you care to think about is how hard you’re pushing Harry’s buttons.

And how fucking sweet victory tastes.

Well, aside from… you know, having to actually listen to Luke’s blabbering.

“The hotel’s great but the service is unbelievable. I had to wait fifteen minutes for a guy to bring me an extra towel once and I almost handed in a complaint—“

“Right. Luke, I’m going to get myself a new drink. Do you want anything? No? Wonderful.”

Your rough sigh speaks volumes, wasted air solidifying into something more important as you order at the bar. The bartender smiles at you, almost pitiful, and you writhe in disgust when you think about having to go back in a minute. You suppose it’s worth it to prove your point to Harry that you’re not as undesirable as he thinks, but maybe you should’ve done so with a guy who tells more interesting stories. Or at the very least knows not to speak with his mouth full

“Bored already, princess?”

It does irritate you when Harry sees right through you.

“Were you watching us? How cute.”

He rolls his eyes in your periphery. “You reek of disinterest, is all.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m very interested.”

“Very, you say.”

You lock eyes with him, “very.” Your bartender places the drink in front of you and you’re quick to take a sip. Harry snickers at your side. “What do you want, Harry?”

“Nothing. Are you sure you didn’t pay him to take you out?”

“Are you sure you have nothing else to do with your life? Because it sure is a little pathetic how invested you are in mine.”

“Aw come on, sweetheart,” he pinches your cheek and you recoil in an instant, shoving him back. Harry chuckles like he gets off on it. “Admit that you like the attention.”

“From you? I think I’d rather not.”

His smile never fades. “So this guy, very predictable.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “what do you mean?”

“Just his look and everything. It makes sense you’d go out with him.” When you don’t reply, simply tilting your head in an even mix of curiosity and disdain, he elaborates. “All of the boys you date, they’re the same. Bet his Porsche’s insurance is under his daddy’s name.”

Your fixated glare could kill.

But he doesn’t mind— in fact, he loves it. He knows he’s struck a cord, that he’s right. “There’s no thrill in it. No excitement.”

“He’s everything you could never be, Harry.”

A beat of silence ensues, you take a sip of your drink.

You probably shouldn’t elaborate, but you do. You find yourself wanting to. “He’s kind, and he cares about me. He opens doors and he holds my hand when we’re walking down the street. So yeah, maybe he doesn’t get drunk tattoos or share a joint with me at three in the morning, but he’s a gentleman. And that’s something you could never understand.”

You don’t even wait for him to interject, because at this point it isn’t fun anymore. It’s true; Harry is exciting, he’s a breath of fresh air. He keeps the chase going— but he doesn’t fucking care enough. So it doesn’t matter how often you’ve caught yourself hoping for him to change and see how good you could be if you didn’t hate each other, he will never be an option for you. He likes the game, teetering on the edge of something more certain and then letting go.

Everything happens at night. By morning time, he couldn’t give less of a shit. You’re not good enough for him. Not exciting enough, not spontaneous enough.

And even though you’re sure you hear him calling your name, you don’t turn back for him. You’re already walking to Luke’s table, and finding yourself happy to do so.

“Everything okay?” He asks when catching wind of your tight expression.

“Yeah. Let’s finish this drink and get the hell out of here.”

—

His eyes are much greener at night, and you hate it.

You hate the rasp in his voice and how smooth it sounds in spite of it. You hate how his eyes close when he’s entranced in the music, when he feels his guitar riff flowing like blood through his veins. And mostly you hate how weak you are, how little convincing it took for you to be here tonight.

By the end of his set, you’re three martinis in and Jessica is poking you in the shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Im fucking great, Jess.”

You don’t see why your friends are always walking on eggshells when the topic of Harry comes up. You and Harry can’t stand each other, that’s it.

And yet every time they act like you’ll break into tears when you see him.

Mitch and Harry return to the table in your periphery and you try your best to ignore their presence. Sometimes you feel bad that Mitch seems to be at the receiving end of your cold attitude so often because he’s genuinely a cool guy, but he’s also Harry’s bandmate. It’s aversion by association.

“Great set, guys!”

Jessica and Mitch aren’t officially dating, but they’re fucking. Hanging out. Hence the reason for your frequent visits to this club and to their gigs; she forces you to come and you can never say no to her.

Mitch slings an arm around Jess’ shoulders, kind enough to acknowledge you with a welcoming smile. They’re perfect for each other and you can’t help but let a grin tug at your lips when you see yet again how happy he makes her.

You wish you could have that.

The couple leaves to get drinks, leaving you and Harry alone.

“Didn’t bring your boyfriend?”

Your eyes roll. It’s involuntary at this point how often you do it. “Can you get off of my dick?”

“If you hop on mine.”

Disgust molds your features, “you’re fucking gross.”

He laughs. You don’t find him funny at all.

His grin dims. “Trouble in paradise then?”

“No trouble. He’s just not here.”

You’re lying; you haven’t called Luke in weeks and he hasn’t reached out either. You don’t think that’s going to change.

“So you’re still dating him.”

“Yeah. Does that bother you?”

You watch as his jaw constricts and clenches. Then he shakes his head, surprising you with the silence it’s accompanied by.

And for some reason, it causes a twist in your stomach. A guilty twist, like it’s somehow your fault the air has turned uncomfortable.

It takes you seconds to realize that for the first time since you’ve gotten to know him, he’s failed to deliver a snarky remark or a hurtful comment; anything resembling a testament to the hatred the two of you feel for one another.

It’s like he has something he wants to say, something on the tip of his tongue, but he’s a coward when it comes to relationships and vulnerability, so he can’t bring himself to do it. And you have enough self-respect to not pry it out of him.

“I have a thing in an hour so I’ll get going. Do you need a ride home?”

For some reason, his offer doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You and Harry can hate each other all you want, but at the end of the day he’ll still care enough to make sure you don’t get harassed on the way home. Somewhat comforting, but only somewhat.

You also know exactly what his thing is, and thinking about it makes you nauseous.

Your first instinct is to say no, but then you pause. Your eyes wander to Jess and Mitch kissing by the bathrooms and you find yourself unable to resist the offer of a ride, as much as you’d hate having to sit in a car with him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Harry’s only confirmation is a subtle nod. He probably hates the idea just as much as you do, but having a death or an injury on one’s conscience can’t feel better than having to endure this.

Most of the ride goes swimmingly, but that’s owed to the silence.

And then you get sick of it, and it all goes downhill.

“You’re the most confusing guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”

His jaw clenches again.

But you don’t stop, probably because the alcohol is finally taking its effect. “You’re mean and as emotionally unavailable as a fucking tree.”

In any other setting he’d probably smile at the comparison, but he’s not in the mood today. He says your name and it resembles a warning.

“I just don’t— I don’t fucking get it. Because you’re nice to everyone else and every one of our friends loves you. But with me you have a problem, with everything I do. I can never do anything right, I’m never right—“

“Do you realize that maybe it’s just you? That you never shut up, that you’re so fucking irritating. You walk around like you’re god-chosen, pretending to know everything better than anyone else. You’re so— it’s so fucking irritating.”

Silence.

He shouldn’t have said anything— least of all anything he didn’t think through beforehand.

But it isn’t his words that terrify you; it’s how he says them. He’s so… genuine. It’s not some halfhearted comment delivered out of spite. No, it’s real, something you can tell he’s kept concealed for a long time out of… what, something he considers kindness?

But you don’t want to self-reflect. You don’t want to open up a can of worms. Instead, your hatred for Harry only flares up. It eats you up and leaves your body in strong waves.

“Pull over.”

You can tell Harry regrets his outburst when he sighs, knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Princess—“

“Pull over, Harry. I want to walk.”

“It’s dangerous out—“

You don’t care anymore, though, his pleas becoming background noise as you’re opening the door and getting ready to step out mid drive. Harry finally gives. He’s not worried about the damage you might’ve caused to his door, he’s worried about your state. How angry you seem and how much alcohol is in your system.

You slam the door shut, hug your blazer closer to your body and start walking.

Guilt spreads in Harry’s chest as he watches you walk away from him. He messed up.

He’s sure there’ll be a special place in hell waiting for him when he sees your shoulders tremble. You’re crying. And it’s all his doing.

His forehead hits the steering wheel.

Fuck this.

—

You’ve always loved watching the stars on your own. You suppose it’s how stuffy the room was that makes this particular viewing significantly more enjoyable, though, the air clinging to your skin in a way that makes you feel protected. The rooftop is secluded, offering a view of the city in its twinkling lights. For a minute, you forget that you’re depressed. You forget that you haven’t spoken to Harry in two months and that it’s left a gaping wanting hole in your chest.

The beer in your hand isn’t cold anymore, your phone has died and your heels are long discarded on the floor somewhere. Your arms are resting on the railing.

You’re a reasonably social person, but the idea of talking to a human being right now makes you want to vomit. And you feel bad, truly bad, because it’s Nina’s birthday. Because you’re having a party in the art gallery she opened earlier this year, because you should be down there celebrating her achievements like all of your friends are doing— and you feel so incredibly selfish for not feeling up to the task. For feeling like you want to fucking cry just because Harry’s here too, and you weren’t expecting him to be.

You hear your name being called. You know exactly who it is; you would probably know by the pattern of his breathing, really, and that realization makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come back up.

“Everyone’s worried about you. You just disappeared.”

Your frown deepens. You can’t look at him right now. “Are they?”

He sounds impatient and you don’t blame him. “Yes. Can you come in?”

You sniffle, “in a minute.”

“Princess—“

“I said in a minute, okay? Just— give me a minute.”

He allows you silence for another minute. Two, actually, before walking closer. You can’t see him, but his presence is loud enough for you to know.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “no.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No.” You breathe in deep, readying yourself for something you’ll probably regret later. But the sudden rush of courage is overwhelming, so you’ll take your chances. “I, uh… I’m always terrified of being exposed to hurt. And so I think, as a defense mechanism, I close up around people. At least the ones who show signs of disliking me.” His silence allows you to go on. “And I always got the impression that you hated me. I never knew what I had done, but I knew you didn’t like me, and that sent me into a fucking spiral because I hate when that happens.” You interrupt yourself in a chuckle, watching as lights flicker off in the distance. “And so maybe subconsciously, in the beginning, I made it a mission of mine to make you like me, you know? Which is why I used to try to talk, to keep conversation going, never shut my mouth. And when I realized that wasn’t working, I needed to shut myself off. Keep you as far away as possible because I knew you would hurt me one way or another.” One last deep breath helps you bask in this feeling of relief. For once in your life, you’re being honest.

“And so I know that I can be overbearingly rude, that I get on your nerves, but it’s because…” you can’t bring yourself to say the complete truth, so you modify it a little, “it’s because if you knew the real me, the version that everyone else knows, then you would know how to hurt me. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

His breathing changes, you hear it. You almost can’t believe you would open up like you did, but somewhere deep down you’re also proud of yourself.

“And I’ve realized now that… that somewhere along the way I got swept up in the illusion of it. The nights we spent together getting tattoos and drinking until morning, I took them for something they weren’t because I wanted it all to be real. I wanted for us to be real, I guess, for us to stop hating each other so much. I held onto the hope, but you would never communicate the same to me. And that scared me because I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. But instead of accepting it, I got meaner and more defensive because I felt played.”

“And I know it’s so… it’s so fucking weird for me to say this to you now like it’s some kind of confession, but… I just can’t shut up, so.”

You find it comical how it all flows out of you like water. How easy it seems now and how much of a big deal you used to make it.

“I never hated you.“ He says after a beat of quiet.

“You didn’t?” You ask as you turn around, pressing your back to the railing. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his washed out jeans and walks closer. He stops next to you, his arms resting on the railing. It’s his turn to watch the lights.

“No,” he shakes his head, taking a deep breath to brace himself. “I… when I saw you for the first time, I felt drawn. I thought you were sweet and funny, and you definitely had me wrapped around your fucking finger by the second time we met. It terrified me, how someone like you could have that effect on me.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so caring and deserving of something more than I could offer her. What you said at the bar that night, it was true. It was all true. Because I never had to be a gentleman before, you know? I don’t exactly date. You know that.” You do. “And I knew that you could worm your way in and completely change my life if only you wanted to. You could hurt me a million times over and I would forgive you every time.”

You can feel his eyes on you, studying the curve of your nose like it’s something he wants to memorize. “I was insecure. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I chose to scare you off. But it was real, all of it; the nights we spent together, everything in between. I pretended like it wasn’t, but deep down I knew it would come to kick me in the ass.” You laugh at his choice of words; he smiles in return. “Because you’re… you’re perfect for me, you know? And letting myself be happy was too much to ask, so I resorted to being an arse. I figured if I could control how you felt about me, I could control how I felt about you.”

You always thought you and Harry were complete opposites... you’re talkative, Harry’s quiet. You’re warm, Harry’s cold. You can’t take it when people don’t like you, and Harry couldn’t give less of a shit.

But now you know that it isn’t the complete truth. Beneath that superficial layer you know so well, there are similar fears. At it’s base, you’re both scared of hurt. You’re scared of exploring unknown territory and risking everything in the name of something that could leave you heartbroken. It could all be for nothing.

And yet, could it not still be worth it?

“We’re both stupid.”

Harry chuckles, and you’re convinced it’s the most beautiful sound anyone could make.

He taps his fingers against the metal railing, nodding. “That we are.”

For the first time in a long time, the silence you share is comfortable. It isn’t courtesy of having too much to say and yet saying nothing, instead it’s courtesy of having said everything and agreeing it’s enough. For now, at least.

You smile to yourself.

The door opens, revealing a timid Jess.

“Hey guys, we’re about to cut into the cake.”

“We’re coming,” you say, sharing a short look with Harry. The two of you walk down the stairs, Harry behind you and Jess in front.

Nina embraces you, ushering both you and Harry closer. If she noticed you were gone, she doesn’t mention it and you’re thankful for that. Tonight, you just want to be a good friend.

And although you have more to say, you’re not worried. Because it’ll all be fine— you’ll be fine.

Nina blows out her candles, everyone erupts into cheers. You grin, sharing a look with Harry over the rim of your bottle. It’s longer this time, something worth holding onto. His eyes are daring, they’re sure, and most of all, they’re welcoming.

It’s a guarantee of trust, a confirmation of the beginning of a new chapter. And although you’re eager to explore it, you have no doubt in your mind that the story won’t come to an end for a while.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles x y/n #frat boy harry

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revelboo · 8 days ago

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Rambles/ clarification of my nonsense

• I just wanted to go ahead and clarify something before you guys make the connection between the TF One Megatron fic and the latest Thundercracker bit and start asking. First off, I have a fated mate series I write. I do love that trope, but I have an issue with how it’s handled sometimes so I will gently poke fun at it from time to time.

• I don’t like the insta-love eyes meeting across a room and falling hopelessly in love that some novels incorporate. I prefer love/affection to be earned over time through actions. Insta-love always comes across to me as losing a piece of yourself to another person, losing free will. Instant attraction or lust? I can work with that, tie it to a sense of belonging that keeps dragging you into that person’s gravity whether you want to be there or not. Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s perfect or easy. I want the characters to clash, to fight that sense of need and maybe even resent that bond at first. Slowly building up trust and getting to know each other.

• If I write more TF One characters, I’ll probably use fated mates in that universe because I’m a gremlin and I like writing conflict. I wouldn’t mind writing that version of Starscream, B127, or Optimus Prime at some point.

• This blog started as a venting space. I needed to work on manuscripts, but I was so burnt out and my usual tactic of just swapping to a different project wasn’t working. I’d open the documents and just stare at the screen in dread. So, I wrote a silly little Starscream snippet, because I used to write fanfiction on FFN years ago under a different handle. And I missed writing silly, self indulgent nonsense that didn’t have to be perfect. The quick bullet point snippets I do are actually how I quickly get scenes down to expand later.

• I only meant to make a few characters and scenarios and then go back and start fleshing them out like a properly formatted story. Then you guys started asking questions, asking about different characters. So I just kept going, because I honestly missed writing for fun, for myself. Nothing serious, just telling a story to amuse myself. I needed an outlet for the stress and this is it.

• So, thank you guys so much. I’ll keep these going as long as folks want to read them, because I really did miss the Transformers community. There’s a sense that when you swap to professionally writing, you’re not supposed to keep doing the fanfiction stuff. You’re supposed to grow up and just write novels, nothing else. And that’s why I stopped ten years ago, but this makes me happy. I can do both and it’s not like I follow normal writing rules anyway. I’ve been told my writing can be too visceral, too much like a stream of consciousness instead of a literary work. That used to bother me, but that ship’s not only sailed, it caught on fire and sank with no survivors. Never been great at following rules anyway.

• And maybe someone else needs to hear that. You don’t have to stop what you enjoy because it’s ’unprofessional.’ Keep it separate, but keep doing it if it makes you happy. It shouldn’t be a trade off.

#transformers x reader #rambles

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radicalreliablerandomness · 1 year ago

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Podcast Rec Masterpost

I've been asked a couple times for podcast recommendations so I thought I'd post a compilation of some shows and a bit of info about them. Most shows I talk about are tagged below (I ran out of tags) so you can look through fan content as well if you're not one to care about spoilers. My asks are still open for personalized recs if you send me some others that you've listened to just because I love you, yes that's right! You. The person reading this right now!

Here goes!

Dungeons And Daddies *not a BDSM podcast

This show is a dnd actual play podcast. The first season is about four dads from our world lost in the Forgotten Realms in search of their lost sons. It’s a comedy but as with all comedies, you will cry by the end of it. It's super easy to get into with great chemistry between all the cast players and the dm, no prior knowledge of dnd is necessary. They do invoke slight horror sometimes so do keep an eye out for content warnings. Season 1 has 68.5 episodes along with bonus content and a mini campaign in between seasons 1 and 2. Season 2 is currently ongoing. Transcripts available.

The Bright Sessions

This is a science fiction podcast. The premise is a collection of clinical recordings of superpowered people's therapy sessions. The plot gets more interesting and convoluted as you get further in. Incredible voice acting filled with emotion. Does have some heavier discussions so be on the lookout for content warnings. It has 7 seasons (the last two are technically not part of the first five seasons' plot) and is completed. Transcripts available.

Hello From the Hallowoods

A post-apocalyptic fiction podcast. A beautifully written and preformed podcast that explores identity, religion, and other themes in vignettes throughout this haunted world narrated by an omniscient being. Some heavier topics are included so check the content warning before each episode. Seasons 1 and 2 are completed and season 3 will be done soon. Transcripts available.

The Magnus Archives

A horror fiction podcast. A well written chronological story told through anthology which seem to be tape recordings from a paranormal investigation institute. Incredible writing and actors that really bring it to life. This is horror so make sure to check the content warnings. The show is completed at 5 seasons. Transcripts available.

Neighbourly

Another horror fiction podcast! An interesting look into all the houses on Little Street and their peculiarities. Some more peculiar than others. The podcast is absolutely delightful with a horribly fun narrator. I would suggest checking the content warnings as some episodes are more intense than others. The show has 2 completed seasons. Transcripts available.

The Fall of the House of Sunshine

A musical mystery fiction podcast. The first season is about an investigation on the murder of a beloved host of a children's tooth-themed show. That's all I can say without spoilers. There are 3 incredible seasons along with short stories in between each season. Transcripts available until halfway through season 2.

Welcome to Nightvale

Possibly the most well known science fiction podcast, it really speaks for itself but I'll do my spiel anyways. Recorded as snippets of a daily radio broadcast, the show details the weird goings on in this strange desert town of Nightvale. Narrated almost completely by the radio host's smooth voice. It's ongoing and is currently sitting at 233 episodes. Transcripts available.

The Two Princes

A fictional queer romance podcast. It takes place in that special part of fiction that always starts with "once upon a time," it feels like a story book almost. The show is based around two boys meeting in the woods. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. It's just a cute feel good show. The podcast is complete at 3 seasons. Spotify auto-generated transcripts available.

What's the Frequency?

A self described psychedelic noir podcast. It's an absolute blast even if it is a bit hard to follow. Takes place in the 1940s in LA when all radio broadcasts were turned to static. You kind of just have to go with it until you get to the end. Completed at 12 episodes. Transcripts available.

Story Break

A writer's room podcast. The basic concept behind Story Break is 3 Hollywood writers in a room together take a prompt and try to make a story for it in an hour. There are many laughs in this podcast and just all around good humor and vibes. The show is complete at 169 episodes plus two full movie scripts. No transcript.

Who Killed Avril Lavigne

A science fiction podcast. It's about a time traveling pop punk loser and that's all you need to know. It's a podmusical so you'll be getting great nostalgic pop punk type songs along with crying from laughing so hard. Completed at 8 episodes. No transcript.

The Behemoth

A fiction podcast. Based around an unexplainable creature emerging from the ocean and how the world, and one girl in particular, deal with this phenomenon. It is pretty short with the longest episode being about 12 minutes. Completed at 20 episodes. No transcript.

Rude Tales of Magic

A dnd actual play podcast. It is mainly focused on the actual roleplay and story telling as opposed to the actual play. A handful of college students from Polaris University fuck the world up by completing a hazing ritual which in this case is a supposedly demon summoning. Obviously now they need to fix the world. Currently 64 episodes and ongoing. No transcript.

Midnight Burger

A very well written fiction podcast. It’s about a time/space traveling diner where the employees try to help solve a problem every place they land. Think Doctor Who adjacent vibes but with more drama. There is an overarching plot that comes together so look out for that. It has incredible characters that are really nicely fleshed out. You’ll somehow like and hate all of them as much as possible in the best way. Currently has 29 episodes of the main feed and a 9 episode mini-series. Transcript available.

Monstrous Agonies

A fiction podcast. It’s an radio advice segment on a station for “liminal Britain” aka the monstrous world to put it plainly. It’s really chill and comforting. There’s very good advice there and the intermittent ad reads will have you giggling to yourself. Episodes are on the shorter side, averaging about 15 minutes each. It does have some heavier discussions so make sure to check the content warnings. The show is completed at 111 episodes through 3 seasons. Transcripts available.

Desert Skies

A fiction podcast. The voice acting in this one is incredible, it’s the same person the whole time. The show as a whole is also just super well done. The premise is that when you die you show up on a highway and get to this astral pit stop. I’m not going to spoil it anymore you just have to experience it. There is an additional show, Desert Skies FM that's a buddy to this one. I recommend listening to both. Season 1 was completed at 12 episodes. Transcripts available.

Wooden Overcoats

A sitcom dramedy podcast. The show is about two siblings that run a funeral home on an island. It used to be the only one, it isn’t anymore. It has a wacky cast of characters and even wackier plot points. The dialogue can be a little hard to get used to at the beginning but once you get into it it flows easily. The show is completed at 4 seasons. Transcripts available.

Greater Boston

An audio drama podcast. It's set in Boston if you couldn't tell from the title and starts with the death of a man on a rollercoaster. It blends real life with some subtle (and at times not-so-subtle) fantasy elements. It's currently at 4 completed seasons. Transcript available.

Gay Future

A science fiction podcast. In a world where everyone is gay in the future we focus on this one straight kid. Following his journey to destroy the government who are making everyone gay. This is a satire by the way. 1 season completed at 6 episodes. No transcripts.

Death by Dying

A dark comedy podcast. The show follows an obituary writer while he does things that are totally under the jurisdiction of his job. A well written and preformed show. There are a lot of laughs and obviously some heartbreaks as well. Currently 1 completed season with season 2 sitting at 2 episodes for a bit now. Transcript available.

Not Another D&D Podcast

An actual play dnd podcast. This one's more mainstream than my other podcasts so I don't talk about it as much but that doesn't mean it's not incredible. The first campaign is about 3 adventurers off to save the world. Obviously. It can be a bit slow in the beginning but anything past the second half of the first season is incredible. There's humor, drama, love, and much more. The DM is also just incredible. 1 completed season, a couple mini campaigns, and the second season is currently at 43 episodes. No transcripts.

Forgive Me!

A fiction podcast. It starts based around vignettes of confessionals in this small town taken by a new father in the local church. An overarching plot is present but it's generally a feel good, sweet and simple show. They have 2 complete seasons with season 3 currently at 9 episodes. Transcripts available.

Real Housewives of D&D

An actual play dnd podcast. This show is based around the concept of a "Real Housewives..." type show but you don't need to know anything about those to listen to this. It's about 4 reality TV stars thrown into a magical fantasy world with no knowledge of how to get home. There's drama, excitement, danger, and lots more. The first season was just completed at 16 episodes. Transcripts available.

The Silt Verses

A horror fiction podcast. Two people who worship a banned god travel together up a river in a pilgrimage. There is incredible worldbuilding in this show along with acting and sound design. This is horror and a very good one at that so make sure you check content warnings. Season 1 and 2 are completed and season 3 is at 2 episodes so far. Transcripts available.

The Land Whale Murders

A comedy fiction podcast. It takes place in the year 1899 and is about a pair of friends? maybe not, that metaphorically explore the world they're living in. It is a commentary on the world we live in and the problems in it through a hilarious and wacky cast. There are currently 17 episodes between both seasons 1 and 2. Transcripts available.

Elaine's Cooking for the Soul

A post-apocalyptic cooking podcast. The show is about a dentist who makes her way through the fallout of an apocalypse while also making a cooking podcast. It does have depictions of violence, war, and dentistry so check out the content warnings. There are 2 completed seasons. No transcripts.

Fawx and Stallion

A mystery podcast. If you hate Sherlock Holmes you'll love this podcast. Also if you love Sherlock Holmes you'll love this podcast. It's based around the detectives who live across the street from Holmes at 224B Baker street. It's pretty goofy. Season 1 is completed. Transcripts available.

The Amelia Project

A fiction podcast. Follow the shenanigans of this death-faking organization as they take in new clients and hear their stories. It does develop an actual overarching plot later on but every second is fun. Seasons 1-4 have been completed and season 5 is in progress. Transcripts available.

A Voice From Darkness

A horror podcast. It's centered around a radio show hosted by Dr. Malcolm Ryder, Parapsychologist. He helps people who call into his show with supernatural problems, gives PSAs and warnings about strange happenings, and more. Season 1 is completed and season 2 is at 9 episodes. Transcripts available.

Station Arcadia

A dystopian fiction podcast. Formatted through a radio show, it tells the story of a world that's slowly dying. There are vignettes of different characters through different areas of the world. Season 1 is completed at 25 episodes. Transcripts available.

Margaret's Garden

A science fiction podcast. It has two plots running at the same time which keeps you on your toes but makes for an intriguing story line. In one plot line, two agents are sent to investigate the strange happenings of a weird little long abandoned town. Simultaneously, we hear from the past of that town as it catches up to the agents. Completed at 10 episodes. Transcripts available.

Camp Here & There

A horror comedy podcast. It's recorded as a set of daily announcements over a loudspeaker at a totally normal summer camp. The announcements are made by the camp nurse and he's also totally normal. I promise. Make sure to check in with the content warnings as some topics are a little mature or graphic. There are currently 34 episodes. Transcripts available.

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye

A companion horror podcast. This is actually a bit meta because it is the result of a youtube series. This show is the one the podcast hosts in the series release, it's definitely worth both the watch and the listen though. It's got werewolves and drama. Completed at 10 episodes of video and 10 of the podcast. No transcripts.

I am in Eskew

A horror podcast. It's about a man who's trapped in a city where the buildings always change and the rain never stops. There's a weird monotonous creeping horror in this show that just draws you in. Check for content warnings definitely. Completed at 30 episodes. Transcripts available.

Traveling Light

A comfy cozy fiction podcast. It follows The Traveller on their exploration through space, visiting alien planets and collecting stories to send back to their community. For supporters of the show, it almost functions as a choose-your-own-adventure with choices to vote on and listener submissions. It's made by the same people as Monstrous Agonies so if you enjoyed that, you'd enjoy this and vice versa. There are currently 16 episodes. Transcripts available.

Not yet described but still recommended:

Eeler’s Choice

The Secret of St Kilda

The Endless Ocean

The Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio

The Sword & The Stoner

World Gone Wrong: a fictional chat show about friendship at the end of the world

Travelling Light

Waterlogged

Brimstone Valley Mall

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penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

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Can't start another WIP she said, bitch she fuckin LIED. Personal Assistant Steve to Rockstar Eddie snippet. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

Smoke curled lazily above them in the slightly chilly night air. Neither of them had bothered to put any clothes back on but they were still warm enough from previous activities so it didn’t really matter.

The guy, Jake? John? James? J- Julian! That was it. Julian was standing next to him just out of arms reach now that the horny haze between the two of them had worn off.

Eddie supposed that was to be expected.

The poor guy probably had no idea if he was about to be booted unceremoniously out of a rockstars luxury hotel room after crashing together under a fog of uppers and thumping music at the after party before they both had quickly fumbled their way into Eddie's bed for the night.

He had no idea if fuckin' security or some shit was going to burst through the door and drag him out half or fully naked now that Eddie was done with him.

And it probably hadn't helped that they had been walked in on, they'd barely been in the room a minute before Steve came looking for him, talking a mile a minute about tour schedules and pre-approved interview questions before he'd realised he was looking at Eddie practically humping the guy against a wall.

They'd stopped when Steve walked in obviously but it had been pretty clear what they were doing and Steve, ever the professional had just rolled his eyes and told Eddie he'd be back in the morning.

Julian clearly had no idea if he was safe here now that the deed was done but Eddie wasn't an asshole. He could be a bit callous all right but he wasn't opposed to his hook-ups hanging around for a little bit if they seemed like cool enough people. And the guy seemed nice enough so he didn’t mind letting him stick around.

Julian sighed a little heavily and ran a hand through his muddy blonde hair. “I feel kinda bad now.”

Eddie turned his eyes over to him. “About what? The sex?” He pulled in a drag from his cigarette.

“No!” Julian answered quickly. “No, the sex was great, really. I mean about your... Your assistant? Probably not the easiest thing for him to see.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie shook his head. “Steve’s seen much worse, believe me. The stories that man could tell.” He laughed. “It's not the first time he's walked in and it probably won’t be the last but he’s practically immune to it at this stage. He’s dragged me by the hair out of celebrity drug dens, parties… he’s pulled me out of more orgy piles than I can count so you know… no skin off his back. ”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“What then?”

Julian grimaced and glanced down with a look somewhere between guilty and sad. “You really don’t see it?”

Eddie ashed out his cigarette, shrugging and headed back inside. He wanted to get back into bed, his feet were cold and his body was aching from the show he’d just performed. Honestly he could do with as much sleep as humanly possible but he hadn't any idea what the guy was talking about. He'd meant what he'd said, Steve had seen him in just about every position it was possible for a person to be in pre-sex, mid-sex and post-sex. This was nothing new to him.

Julian followed him back inside and hovered awkwardly at the end of the bed, trying to pick his words and unsure if he should be picking his clothes back up from the floor or getting back into bed.

Eddie pulled the corner of the covers back. “I’m not going to kick you out, you can stay if you want or you can go. Up to you.”

Julian bit his lip but crawled in regardless, lying down to face Eddie. The darkness of the room and the way the two of them were lying facing towards each other felt like some kind of confessional.

“He’s clearly in love with you, dude.”

Eddie couldn’t help the full on belly laugh that came out of his mouth. “Steve?!” He asked incredulously. “No way, man. He’s my P.A. and one of my closest friends. Plus the guy is straight as an arrow. Your gaydar must be off or something.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well… I mean… look at him!”

Steve was… he was the straightest looking man around. All business suits, perfectly styled hair, slightly out of date glasses and ex-jock charisma and physique.

Julian didn’t answer, just cocked an eyebrow at him.

Eddie huffed. “Yeah, okay, I’m stereotyping but like… he fucks women.”

“You fuck women.”

“Rarely.”

“But you still do.”

“Okay… but… he… listen I know Steve, alright? The guy isn’t in love with me.”

Julian shrugged. “I dunno, man. I’m not trying to be an ass, I swear but it was very obvious… to me I guess.” He sighed again then muttered “Maybe I’m just very familiar with that look.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah." He tucked his hands under his head. "See it every time I look in the mirror.”

“Oh. Well shit. Who’re you breaking your heart over?”

“My best friend. Danny.”

Eddie hummed, rolling onto his stomach and shoving his arms under his pillow, rubbing his cheek against the fabric. “Tell me about him.”

Julian broke into a wide but bashful smile, so bright it was practically lighting up the dark room though it was sharply undercut with just a hint of melancholy.

“He’s the most loving, giving person I’ve ever met. He’d only just turned eighteen when both his parents died and out of nowhere he’s got three younger siblings that are now in his care and the guy barely knew how to look out for himself, you know? He once tried to microwave an egg to cook it. But he really stepped up. He grew up. Like, can you imagine being eighteen and having to go to parent-teacher meetings when you’d only just left school yourself and trying to teach his kid brother how to shave or talk his sisters through puberty… he’s just so… you know?”

Eddie wasn’t really sure he did know. This Danny person made him think of Steve, serial adopter of anyone even remotely younger than him. Sometimes older than him, if Eddie was to count himself. The kind of person who seemed to make it their life's mission to take care of others. He could see the appeal of Best-Friend-Danny, honestly. Steve probably had better hair though. He always had better hair.

“And Danny’s straight?”

“No.” Julian frowned. “He’s not. And I don’t know if that makes things worse. Because he could choose me. But he never has. Over and over and over again, he hasn’t chosen me. He probably never will. And I need him in my life. So I’ve learned to deal with just friends. It’ll... It'll be good enough.”

“Fuck, that’s heavy. I’m sorry man, sounds like it sucks.”

“It does suck. Sucks dick and balls, actually.”

Eddie allowed himself a little giggle at that but the whole situation had wound itself around his brain. Not for the first time he was forced to remember that there are other people out there, other people like him and other people nothing like him who use music, use sex, use drugs and drink and anything else they can get their hands on just to alter their minds for a few hours. Just to forget and get away from it all. Unfortunately this poor guy seemed stuck in the kind of tragedy poets have been writing about for hundreds of years.

They didn’t share any more words, both dropping off to sleep fairly quickly, lost in their own thoughts.

The next morning they shuffled around each other, lazy and easy now that any post-sex awkwardness had left, grumbling and sore from the show, the various substances they’d ingested, the after party and the sex from the night before.

They took turns in the hotel room's quite frankly obscenely fancy shower.

Julian slowly pulled his clothes back on, wincing whenever he had to bend his back while Eddie made it easy on himself, just throwing on his usual ancient and ratty lounging clothes.

The things Julian had said to him the night before were all but forgotten. Because it wasn't even something that was worth considering in Eddie's mind.

Steve? In love with him?

It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his life. Steve was like some kind of clean cut poster boy for straightness.

Even if he wasn't straight they'd just be downright incompatible in every other sense of the word. He was punctual, a morning person, he exercised for fun, he watched sports, he was a bitch and he was always so put together.

Eddie... Eddie was none of those things.

Maybe he could be a bit of a bitch.

Sometimes.

Plus, even if it was true and that was a big if, Eddie wasn't in love with him back, so like...

Nothing would ever come of it anyway.

Just before Julian left, Eddie beckoned him back over.

The kiss wasn’t romantic, or heated. If anything it was downright platonic, like closing the book on their short story together.

“For luck.” Eddie smiled and patted him lightly on the chest, watching as Julian turned and left the room, his own small smile on his face.

It was nearly a half an hour later and Eddie was really getting into whatever episode of Real Housewives he’d stumbled upon, he wasn't sure, when Steve walked through the door, carrying a large and violently pink strawberry frappuccino with him.

Eddie made greedy, grabby hands at it from his lounged position on the bed. “You’re a saint.” He said, snatching it up.

“I’m aware.” Steve replied with a dry tone, hands on his hips.

Eddie gulped back two bitingly cold mouthfuls. “No, seriously, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me I swear to god." He gulped down another mouthful, ignoring the sharp throb in his teeth. "You gonna watch?” He gestured to the tv. “I think we’re a few episodes behind.”

Steve scoffed. “While I’d love nothing more than to sit on your dirty sex sheets, I have an actual job to do. Y’know, I have to organise your whole damn life-”

“Excuse you, I have an actual job too!”

“Drugs are not an actual job, Eds.”

“Tell that to a pharmacist.”

“Whatever. Drink your disgusting sugar and cream concoction and try not to get into too much trouble today. We're back on the tour bus at 6am sharp!” Steve started slowly backing towards the door, pointing at him. “And do not watch ahead from the last episode we saw together. We’re catching up on it over the weekend.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

Steve’s hands were back on his hips again and Eddie smiled around his straw.

“You’re the bane of my fucking existence, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

Something flashed across Steve’s face, there and gone before it ever settled. A tightening of his mouth, a clench in his jaw, a pinch in his brows, there and gone. Maybe if Julian had never said anything, Eddie wouldn’t have noticed. Maybe if the thought hadn’t been primed he wouldn’t have seen it.

How many times had he not seen it before?

Steve rolled his eyes, as bitchy as ever. “I’ll be back with the car in an hour. Try to look somewhat human by then, please?” He didn’t wait for an answer, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

Well…

It was probably nothing…

Right?

Part 2 out now! Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie x steve #fanfic #steddie fic #penny00dreadful #stranger things fic #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar eddie #personal assistant steve #personal assistant steve harrington #modern au #somebody to love

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writingficsanddaydreams · 1 year ago

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His Eyes

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: you may dislike eye contact, but that doesn’t make his eyes any less mesmerizing

Content: some fluff, a little romance. They’re on a mission. Reader is autistic.

A/N: this is a shorter piece, just a snippet of an idea really, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So now I’m making you all think about it too! Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality, and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago.

—————————————

Dracule Mihawk. A great warlord of sea. A man so powerful that his very presence makes others stop and step back wherever he goes, who can freeze a person in place with just his intense, piercing gaze.

You love his gaze.

You love the color of his eyes, the way that lantern light plays across the striking yellow, bringing out those hints of gold. You love the shape of them, the way his eyebrows furrow, that little line that forms above his nose when he’s so focused. You love how he can seem to command a room with his gaze alone.

His eyes are mesmerizing.

“How is it you can stare at me, yet request I avoid the same?”

His words send a shiver through you, one that strengthens as he turns that gaze briefly your way. His arm is is draped carefully across the back of the tavern booth, his fingers just brushing your shoulder.

You shrug and smile—just a little smile, the one you practiced because you know it secretly makes him pleased, even if smiling doesn’t come naturally to you.

“It’s not like I command you,” you tease, even as you draw your knees closer to your chest to better balance your sketchbook and lean slightly into him. You like sitting like this, both because it lets you naturally look away when he does decide to stare at you, and because you love the feeling of his nearness as you lean slightly into his side.

“Hmm.” He turns his gaze away. You quickly peak up at him and are pleased to see the slightest twitch to his own lips, a hint of his own smile.

He’ll never show it, not here in this tavern where every other person subtly watches him. But it’s there, and you’ve enjoyed drawing it out of him since you started working together as temporary partners. Especially since you started to be something more…

You turn back to your own work, drawing your fountain pen across the thick sketchbook paper.

A line here. A small adjustment there. You let yourself fall into the art, even as you listen to the conversations murmuring around you.

The din of voices can be overwhelming at times, painful even when so many noises echo together, but useful. You’ve learned ways to manage it, found tools to let you block out the sound when it’s too much and learned how to sort through the sounds when you do have the energy for it. Now you sit and listen, letting your art pull you slightly away from it all, even as snippets of conversation come and go.

“…can’t believe that seller cheated me! I…”

“…Mihawk here…?”

“…will drink you under the table…”

“…think Garp sent him? Does he know we…”

You still your pen, glancing only slightly up from the page. That conversation was from not too far away. The targets.

“You noticed them too,” comments Mihawk, in that eternally bored, yet oh so confident tone.

“What now?” you ask, turning your gaze back to your sketchbook. “Capture them here or flush them out?”

If you were working alone, you would probably wait for them to leave on their own, then follow them and complete the mission once away from all the noise and bustle of the tavern. But it’s fun to work Mihawk’s way as well, to see just what it is that makes him so simultaneously feared and respected. You find it fascinating how he toys with his targets at times, as if a job is simply a game to him.

“It has been quiet lately. A chase might be entertaining.”

You grin, even as you carefully try to capture a slight shimmer of light in your sketch.

This is the part you find so fascinating.

The way he can inspire or horrify people with just a glance. The way he moves so carefully and intentionally through his work, even as he sometimes treats it as a way to relieve the boredom of being truly the best. The way he knows how good he is, knows his power and wears it like a cloak.

You know the moment he turns his gaze from a casual analysis of the room to a hunter spotting its prey.

It’s in the slight gasps as that muted conversation staggers to a halt. The sharp sense of fear that drifts through the tavern. The way Mihawk’s intense gaze cuts straight through the crowded tables and towards the targets, even as everyone else breathes in relief that it’s not aimed at them.

You’ve done this just enough times now to know that soon your targets will try to leave, try to flee.

Then it will be time to act.

For now though, you enjoy leaning into your warlord, carefully drawing your pen across a sketchbook page as you capture the dangerous beauty of his vivid eyes.

#dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader

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artist-issues · 6 days ago

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They did a really good job with Shadow in this game.

They got him back to who he was in the first game he appeared in—while adding in how his experiences since his time as a naive test-subject have changed him.

I missed the Redeemed Shadow from the Final Story of SA2. That version of him, those moments where he’s decided very quickly who he is, “I must destroy all the evil the Professor has created!” Or “How are you doing, Sonic?” Or “I’ll take care of this, while you run to get the Chaos Emeralds!”

All the lighthearted confidence in who he is now and what he has to do—all the concern for his comrades who just a second ago he was claiming to be so much better than—all the humility of ‘you get the Emeralds, I’ll hold ‘em off’ and ‘maybe you’re the Ultimate Life Form, Sonic’—I loved that snippet of Shadow we got to see.

Then he falls and “dies,” and from that point on I got treated to angsty I-Don’t-Know-Who-I-Am Shadow. Closely followed by Grimly-Passive-Agressively-Duty-Bound Shadow.

No more humbly completing a mission for the good of others. Very little demonstrative concern for others. No more compliments to comrades. Made me sad.

But you know what, it made sense. Because even though he’s learned that he’s supposed to be living for others, he doesn’t get to have his family. So that’s sad. He essentially has to live for people he doesn’t feel close to. Add on top of that the Dark Side, the fact that a sadistic race of monsters is in his blood, and of course he’d be bitter.

But in this game Maria speaks directly to Shadow who’s been through all that. All that garbage with the Black Arms, all that garbage with almost destroying the world himself out of revenge—Maria talks to that Shadow and reminds him of who he is.

So now he has anger and he has reason to be detached, and bitter…but he’s also been reminded to choose not to be detached and bitter.

That’s a much more fleshed-out character than I thought SEGA would develop him into, after everything

#Shadow #Shadow the Hedgehog #Shadow Generations #sonic x shadow generations #Sonic generations #Sonic the hedgehog #Maria #Maria robotnik #shadow and Maria #sa2 #sonic adventure 2 #Character analysis

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faith-forgxtten-land · 7 months ago

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Cinderella | Leonardo

okay, i am aware this isn't my greatest work but i actually kind of like it, or i enjoyed writing it at least because i'm a sucker for fairytales being applied to non-fairytale stories/settings... also i spent about the same amount of time writing this as i did attempting to find a gif of leo in that damn suit and then i ended up having to make my own because i couldn't find one of just leo...

2003!Fast Foward

warnings: none? cleavage mention, one innuendo, fem!reader... genuinely nothing other than non-proof read writing

summary: when leo meets cinderella

word count: 1437

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Leonardo likes people watching – which is not stalking no matter what Raphael says. He likes imagining their lives and catching snippets of arguments and jests and idle conversation, and he especially likes watching people in his colour, even if some of the gowns and suits he sees are abominations fit for incineration rather than an evening out.

Although, he concedes, there are a lot of pretty outfits tonight, including a dashing cornflower blue, pinstriped three piece suit – complete with a fedora and all – that Leo quietly longs to have in his closet. His brothers would probably laugh and Donny would accuse him of wanting to look like a noir detective (and so what if he did?), but Leo was used to tuning out their teasing.

He settles against a wall and continues to watch. There’s a lot of blue in the crowd; shades of navy and midnight, indigo and periwinkle threatening to bleed into purple and catching and sparkling in the light.

For every fashion win, however, there are another two fashion failures, and Leo can't hide his wince as a woman saunters past with undeserved, and therefore impressive, confidence clad in a ghastly shade of turquoise and adorned with fur trimmings.

He loves blue more than anyone else, he really does, but even that shade has skipped over the boundaries of ostentatious into obnoxious, and Leo has to blink to try and erase the monstrosity from his mind.

Pulling his eyes away from another blasphemous shade of cyan passing through the doorway, he scans the sea of people casually and smiles amusedly as he quickly spots Raph. He’s got his arm around Donny who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, clumsily hunched and torn between politeness and awkwardness as his brother flirts brazenly.

He can’t find Mikey and he lets his eyes roam the room once more to make sure he hasn’t missed him, although missing Mikey is pretty impossible, not least because he's in a bright orange tuxedo. It should worry him more, although he’s not sure whether to be worried for Mikey or for whomever Mikey is with, but all thoughts of his little brother are expelled from his mind when he catches a breathtaking shade of blue across the floor.

The dress is long and shimmering, fabric pooling on the floor, and Leo follows the material upwards, transfixed as it cascades and ripples over skin like water. It’s so blue.

His breath hitches as he traces bare neck and lands on the most beautiful face he’s even seen. You’re looking right at him. He feels faint, hyperaware of his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears, the racing flap of a hummingbird’s wings matching the flutter of butterflies within his stomach.

Love at first sight is such a ridiculous, illogical notion. It's fanciful and childish. It’s unrealistic and goes against everything Leo has been taught and everything he expects from himself. But your dress matches his suit, matches his mask, he's a mutant turtle, and he’s already striding towards you and you’re meeting him halfway, and before he can even stop and think about what he’s doing he’s asking you for a dance.

His breath hitches again as your palm glides against his and he rests his other along the curve of your hip, feeling the heat of your body through your dress.

Years of training have made his feet steady and his frame strong, but Leo still feels a little out of place as he does his best to lead you around the floor. You smile at him, soft and amused, easily reading the tension in his shoulders with the palms of your hands. “You need to relax,” you murmur teasingly. “Breathing would be a good start.

His shoulders gradually slump under the gentle caress of your hands as you dance in companionable quiet, and your answering beam causes his breath to catch in his throat. This doesn’t feel real, it feels like a dream and a fairytale all at once – perhaps also combined with a nightmare because his brothers are watching and even Mikey has reappeared to gawk – as Leo twirls you gracefully.

He might feel out of place, but the two of you are perfectly in sync. You’re calm and flowing in his arms, your gown whirling and billowing behind you like a silent wave rolling against the shore with every step and spin, and you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

In all honesty, Leo has no idea what to say now that you’re in his arms. He should probably speak before it gets awkward, before you leave and he never gets to see you again, but his heart feels like its trapped in his throat and even the thought of speaking makes him nauseous as those butterflies continue to assault the lining of his stomach.

He thanks every deity he can name that you break the silence first. “Do I get to know the name of my dance partner?”

Your smile is wide and bright as you wait for his reply, and it takes Leo a moment to register your question. When he does, his answer is a stammering mess that makes it impossible for you to hide the gooey endearment on your face, eyes all-but moulding into little hearts as you slowly bridge the sliver of space between your bodies.

You can feel solid muscle flexing beneath your palms as his breath stutters, and you can’t hide the satisfied grin blooming across your lips, cheeks aching when his hand flattens against your spine and he extinguishes the final inch between you like smothering a flame – except the instance your chest is flush against his, that flame is burning brighter, roaring and scorching, and your eyes flutter as his lips brush yours in a whisper of a touch.

“And your name?” Leo asks, breath fanning your face and unable to tear his gaze away from you. “Don’t tell me it’s Cinderella.”

You laugh, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, and Leo’s heart clenches in adoration. “That would be silly,” you tell him playfully, glancing down at your dress and pretending not to notice the way his eyes drop to your cleavage, pausing for a moment too long, as they follow yours. “I would never be so on the nose.”

“Of course, my mistake. I am terribly sorry for my misjudgement.”

“Although,” you admit, accepting his tongue-in-cheek apology with a mischievous dip of your chin and letting your lips roll to conceal a smile as you glance at him coyly from under your lashes, “I do actually have to leave before midnight.”

Leo blinks. “Don’t tell me this dress will turn to rags and your carriage is a pumpkin.”

You shrug nonchalantly and it’s Leo’s turn to laugh. “A girl has to have her secrets.”

“Are you hiding glass slippers beneath that skirt?”

“Oh, I bet you’d love to know what’s under my skirt, Leonardo.”

His face is hot, and Leo has never been more glad to be a turtle, green skin disguising a heated blush. “You’re a terrible tease.”

The music has stopped, and Leo reluctantly lets you step back, already missing the warmth of you as he takes in his surroundings as though seeing them for the first time, as if the two of you have been underwater, alone in the world, this entire time and have only just broken through to the surface.

It’s no longer just his brothers gawking; you’ve attracted quite the crowd with your dancing, and he realises he’s not sure how long the pair of you have been spinning away – it could have been a minute, or it could have been twenty.

As he glances at his brothers and does his best to ignore the whispering swarm, he’s not sure his face could get any hotter. Mikey is grinning widely, cheering and hooting and receiving plenty of dirty looks, not at all phased by the chastising glare Leo shoots him, while Donny and Raph look equal parts awed and confused, impressed and disgruntled.

Leo rolls his eyes and turns to face you again only to be met with the lingering scent of your perfume and empty space. Panic shoots through him like lightning and he’s about to rush for the nearest exit when he almost stomps on something.

His laugh is barking and loud and his brothers look even more confused as he picks up a heel. It’s not a glass slipper, but it is blue and there’s a slip of paper with a phone number and your name that Leo slips into his pocket.

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt imagine #tmnt leonardo x reader #leonardo tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt fast forward #leo tmnt #tmnt leo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt leo

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fabbyf1 · 2 months ago

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*taps microphone* is this thing on?

oh, hello.

it's me, yah girl.

you'll never guess what grandma's been up to.

after avoiding my google docs for weeks months, i have finally dusted them off and started writing again. i'll be honest with you guys: i've gone through a lot of ups and downs with writing recently, where i loved it one day and hated it the next, which is why i took such a massive break. i don't like to post things i'm not proud of, and don't fully believe in, so i'm glad i took some time away to do other things and not let writing fanfiction ruin my mental health.

but now? WE'RE BACK BABY. i followed troy bolton's advice and got my head in the game and thought to myself, what would bring you joy to write? and there was really only one answer to that question.

lestappen.

so that's what i've done.

i set out to make this a one-shot pwp, and if that's what i decide it's going to be, then it's pretty much complete right now and just needs an edit. but i think i'm gonna try to add more onto it over the next couple days and make it a short story instead.

it won't be anything massive like long live or vapor, but maybe a little more than a one-shot.

happy charles on pole day, besties. thank you for sticking by me while i got my life together.

snippet under the cut.

context: friend-charles has a bad hook-up and asks friend-max to give him an honest blow job review

Charles stretched his neck to the left and right as if he was about to hop into his car.

“Do you always stretch before giving someone a blow job?” Max asked, ignoring the sweat that was forming around his hairline.

“Fuck off,” Charles said lightheartedly. He brought his hands up and hesitated for just a moment before resting them gently on Max’s knees. Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird. Max was proud when the muscles of his thighs didn’t twitch or anything at the contact. “Now move your hand out of the way,” Charles instructed, looking down at where Max was covering himself.

“You’re bossier than I thought you’d be,” Max said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Is that right?” Charles asked, hands still gripping Max’s knees. “Do you think about me often, Max Verstappen?”

“I—” Max squeaked, which was somehow more embarrassing than sitting with his cock out. He glared at him as he said, “Fuck you.” Charles looked delighted by his words, which only made Max narrow his eyes further. “Don’t make me regret this,” Max warned, finally letting his hand fall to his side.

Charles looked at where Max was lying soft against his thigh. “Do you need me to flirt with you or something?”

Max scoffed. “No, asshole, I don’t need—”

“Ohhh, Max, you’re so handsome,” Charles cooed in a high-pitched tone anyway. Max’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You’re so big and strong and fast,” Charles continued, batting his eyes at him in an exaggerated way that would be comical if he wasn’t on his knees. “Mister three-time world champion with a big dick and a—”

Max’s cock twitched, and they both saw it happen.

“Oh my god,” Charles said, gasping loudly before cackling. “Oh my god, that actually did it for you?”

“No!” Max snapped, covering himself again with his hands. “Fuck you! It was a coincidence!” But he wasn’t even sure if Charles could hear him over his roaring laughter.

This might be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him.

He always knew that Charles Leclerc would be his downfall, but he never expected it to be over a blow job.

#IM SO BACK BESTIES #fic snippet #mastermind fic

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avastrasposts · 7 months ago

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Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed.

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks.

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in.

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears.

He dropped his hand.

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home.

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again.

But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here.

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap.

“You growing roots, old man?”

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger.

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar.

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes.

“You coming or going, cowboy?”

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist.

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.”

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face.

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him.

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.”

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb.

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.”

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses.

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat.

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.”

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble.

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends.

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most.

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass.

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek.

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down.

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head.

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return.

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.”

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.”

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.”

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.”

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.”

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her.

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again.

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head.

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.” She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down.

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke, the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him.

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it.

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?”

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans.

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile.

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?”

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter.

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?”

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.”

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed.

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet.

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.”

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged.

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.”

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head.

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.”

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him.

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.”

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.”

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.”

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private.

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic.

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon.

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here.

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy.

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more.

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it.

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city.

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet.

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence.

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else.

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected.

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.”

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child.

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child.

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.”

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it.

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.”

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped.

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer.

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

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