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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

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F is for Friends - part 1

Uhhhh, hello, yeah, this is that Nolan fic that I started yesterday that wasn't on my WIP list but I've decided that this is going to be multiple parts so I hope you like this.

Anyway, it's 4:30 am, ignore typos, the MC is a high school chem teacher (because that is all I know and I'm not sorry, enjoy pretending to be an expert on the basics of chemistry)

Read part 2 here!

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You knew you and your friends were being a little bit loud, but you didn’t think anyone was around to hear you. When you had gotten into your apartment, the cars that were normally there indicating that your neighbors were home were gone, the only cars there being your own and one you hadn’t seen before. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know who your neighbors were, you had just pieced together that the cars you had seen regularly were ones you assumed belonged to the people who lived around you.

It’s not like you were being that annoying, you just had music playing while you guys were hanging out. It was a rare afternoon where you were home before the traffic got bad, and your friends, working together at the same company, had the day off for whatever holiday they tried to claim it was. You and Lindsey were sitting on the couch, Francesca leaning against the coffee table as she set cross-legged on your floor.

“Do you guys hear that?” Lindsey yells over the music, interrupting the attempt you three were making at trying to figure out what you wanted for dinner later that night.

You turn the music down, not even realizing how loud it had gotten even with the screaming you all were doing trying to communicate with each other. “What?”

“Y/N, someone’s knocking at your door,” Fran says, not looking up from her phone.

You hear the knocking they were talking about, short and fast as if whoever it was was annoyed they had been knocking for a long time. You get up to answer it, two tall men standing in the way of your door. “Hi!” you greet them, a smile on your face, probably seeming slightly fake.

“Your music is loud,” the brunette deadpans.

“Oh,” you say, starting to put the pieces together about who they probably were, “sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was home at this point.”

“Who is it?” Lindsey calls.

“I think they’re my neighbors.”

“You think?” the red headed one says, clearly confused as to how you wouldn’t know who they were. “We are your neighbors. Did you just move in?”

You smirk at the slight attitude that came through in his voice, used to it by now based on who you interacted with everyday. “No, I’ve lived here for about a year now. I’m just normally the first to leave in the morning and then the first home in the afternoon, so I don’t really cross paths with anyone else who lives here.”

“What do you do?” the still nameless brunette asked.

Before you could answer, you heard Fran yelling from the other room. “Invite them in! That way we can turn the music back on and they can’t complain!”

You can’t help but cringe because of your friend's words, gesturing for them to come in because you now had to. “If you want.”

The two of them walk in, finding Fran with her legs up on the coffee table while her back is on the floor, Lindsey taking up the entirety of the couch. You groan at the sight of your friends sitting there like that, rolling your eyes before turning back to the guys. “That’s Francesca on the floor, Lindsey on the couch, and I’m Y/N. I can grab some chairs from the kitchen if you don’t want to sit on the floor,” you tell them, knowing that your friends won’t move from the way the positions they were in.

The shorter one follows you, grabbing two chairs from the table to your one.

“Uh, I’m Kevin and that’s Nolan,” the other one says, Fran and Lindsey looking incredibly unamused by your neighbors.

“So, you never said what you did,” Nolan asks, his eyes scanning you up and down.

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, about to answer that question again when Fran decides to answer, “Linds and I work at KPMG.”

“Excuse you, but I believe he was asking me,” you respond, the fake sweetness in your voice prompting an eye.

“Why does that sound like the voice you use when that other guy is trying to explain to you your material that he borrowed?” Fran asked.

“Because it is,” you say, using the same tone as before. You see the confused looks on the guys faces, unable to help the laughter from slipping out of your lips, “I’m a high school chemistry teacher, one of the other teachers steals my lessons from me all the time and tries to explain how to teach them to me.”

Lindsey and Fran change the subject, sucking Kevin into their topic with them while Nolan turns to you, scooching his chair closer to you.

“What could you possibly have been doing that your music was so loud?” he asks you, the other three practically screaming with laughter.

You sigh at their antics, explaining, “We were actually just talking and hanging out. If you couldn’t tell, they’re pretty loud. They come over and take over.”

“That’s Kevin, too.”

“Is he your roommate or just a friend?” you ask him.

He looks at Kevin interacting with your friends, the conversation seeming so natural, easy for him to act like he had been friends with them forever, even if they had just met. Nolan was almost never like that, more quiet, off to the side just watching whatever was around him unfold while he silently passed judgement at the poor decisions people were probably making. With you, though, it already felt different. He already felt like Kevin in this case. “Roommate and teammate,” he tells you, explaining that he played for the Flyers. “What about these two? Roommates or just friends?”

“Friends, but they live together. My roommate is almost never here.”

“Oh?”

“She works the graveyard shift at CHOP a lot, so Maddy normally just spends the day at her boyfriends since he lives right there.”

He notices your change in expression, watching Fran and Lindsey. “You don’t like it,” he tells you, as if it were fact.

You shrug, looking at him. You weren’t sure if the color on his cheeks was there for a reason, but you didn’t really care either way. Part of you almost hoped it was because he was nervous to talk to you, or whatever feeling he may be experiencing. “I spend all day with kids. Sometimes it’s nice to just come home and be alone. Plus, as long as she’s paying rent while her name is on the lease, I don’t really care where she is,” you joke, finally pulling a laugh from him.

The two of you fall into conversation, not paying attention to how much time was passing by you.

“Hey, Y/N, remember when we were going to order dinner?” Fran asks, snapping your attention away from Nolan.

“Right, oh my gosh! We haven’t figured out what we’re getting, but do you guys want to join?” you extend the offer to the guys.

They accept, starting to list off places that you could all order from. “Oh, don’t forget Keelan is coming for dinner, too,” you mention.

“Keelan?” Nolan asks.

“Her boyfriend,” Lindsey moans, not looking up from her phone as she scrolls through what was either Grubhub or Uber Eats.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you spit. Lindsey and Fran didn’t particularly like Keelan, and they made it known. You were sure part of it was because they were both single and still bitter about it, the other part was they assumed he was a douche, no matter how many times you told them he really wasn't, no matter how many times he proved to them that he wasn't.

“You have a boyfriend?” you hear Nolan say, unsure if he was asking you or if he was trying to process that sentence.

“Uh, yeah,” you tell him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “He should be here by now? Maybe he’s stuck in traffic?” The other three go back to talking, figuring out where to order from, an awkward silence between you and Nolan.

He starts looking around your apartment, the decorations that he figured you put more effort into than Maddy had, only on the basis that she was never there. “Wait,” Nolan asks, spotting the one thing hanging behind your TV that he wished he hadn’t, “You like the Penguins?”

The conversation between your friends and Kevin stops, Kevin’s head following Nolan’s gaze to the “Reserved parking: Penguins fans only” metal sign that you tried so hard to hide. Fran and Lindsey start laughing, you rolling your eyes. “Keel is from Pittsburgh. His biggest flaw is that he’s a Pittsburgh sports fan. He left it here so I just put it on the wall because I kept tripping over it on the floor.”

“It could be worse,” Nolan says, a smirk on his face as he looks at Kevin. “He could like New England sports.”

“Watch yourself, Patty,” Kevin says, causing a bickering match between the two of them. You listen to them, watching Nolan become more animated than he had been when he first came in, becoming more comfortable around you and your friends.

You didn’t even remember why they had knocked on your door in the first place, you were just happy they did.

“Hey, it’s me,” you hear someone call from your door.

“We’re in here,” you respond, knowing it was Keelan, finally arriving from work.

“We?” he finally appears, forgetting that you were at least going to be joined by the girls, definitely not expecting the boys to be there, too. “Hey, I’m Keelan,” he introduces himself to Nolan and Kevin, saying hi to Fran and Lindsey despite their lack of acknowledgement of him before he kisses you hello. He wanders into the kitchen to grab his own chair when you look over to Nolan. He was staring at his hands the red in his cheeks burning brighter than they had been before. Before you can ask him if something was up, Keelan was back, putting his chair as close to yours as he could, his arm slung around the back as if to mark you as his.

“Where did we order from?” Keelan finally asks once Fran pointed out that the food would be getting there soon.

“Snap,” Lindsey says, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

Keel turns to you, waiting for you to tell him what he was getting. “I got you the Sweet n’slow.” He scrunches his face up at the mention of what you thought was his favorite pizza from there. “What? That’s what you always get.”

“Yeah but last time I said I wanted to have something else.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though you really didn’t think you had to.

“Well what did you get, maybe we can trade?”

Nolan was sitting awkwardly next to you, listening to what you hoped wouldn’t turn into any sort of argument between you and your boyfriend. “I got the Kennett Square.”

“Oh, I’ll just eat yours then,” Keelan says as if it weren’t a big deal.

You look at him, confused as to how he would miss the biggest reason why you wouldn’t eat that pizza: “Then what do I eat? I don’t like the Sweet n’slow, that’s why I don’t order it.”

“He can have mine, I’ll take the pizza,” Nolan offers.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” you start, only for Keelan to cut you off.

“Thanks man, I appreciate that.”

You scoff at him. How could he take a pizza from a guy he doesn’t know, when you had ordered him something he had gotten time and time again since you frequent the pizza place often enough? You get cut off again, something that was happening a lot today but Fran asking you to help her bring in the pizzas.

“I can’t carry six of them by myself!”

You let out a sigh, leaving Nolan and Keelan to fend for themselves with your empty chair between them. “The boxes aren’t even that big you totally could have grabbed these by yourself.”

“Well, yeah, but oh, my god!” Fran starts squealing, “Nolan totally likes you!”

You give her the side eye, taking the pizzas from the guy who clearly felt awkward by the conversation. “I just met him.”

“Love at first sight, duh.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you counter.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’m not acknowledging it, there’s a difference.”

“You two are going to fall in love,” she tells you.

You stop outside your door, keeping your voice down so no one on the other side has a chance to hear it. “If he does, then that’s his problem. I’m dating Keelan, I love Keelan, and that’s that.” She shrugs, clearly not believing what you were saying. She reaches for the door, you sticking your foot out to stop her from being able to open it. “What?”

“I think you like him, too.”

“I mean he’s a cool guy from the, what, hour that I’ve been talking to him?”

“You like him.”

“As a friend. If that. I barely know him. I didn’t even know he and Kevin were my neighbors until they knocked on my door because you two are too loud.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, trying to open the door again, your foot still in its way, “I’m just saying, when you and Keelan break up, we both know that Nolan is going to be the one who you run to and who you end up being with.”

“Excuse me?” you say, not getting anything out of her as she manages to open your door, barging back into your apartment and figuring out which pizza goes to who.

There was no way she could see something between you and Nolan, could she? You met that day, and sure, he was easy to talk to, sure he was attractive, but that didn’t mean anything. Finding someone pretty does not always mean you are attracted to them. You were attracted to Keelan, turning to your boyfriend as he eats what should have been Nolan’s salad. You loved him, you loved everything about him. So why is that something you need to remind yourself of now that you’re sitting next to Nolan?

“Buddy, cat, why are you eating pizza? You don’t like pizza,” Kevin’s words pull you out of you the trance you fell into.

You turn to him, just watching him shrug as his cheeks get more red, picking at the over abundance of meat that was on the pizza. You turn to Keelan, watching him as he eats the salad like nothing was wrong. “You’re being an ass,” you say, getting up and retreating to the kitchen, leaving the five of them there in your living room.

Why would Nolan offer up his food if he didn’t like pizza to begin with? There’s no way that Fran could be right about him liking you, right? He just met you. He didn’t know you. You had been talking all of an hour of your life, barely knowing anything about him. But fuck, why was it easy to talk to him?

“Hey,” you hear Keelan say, turning to him and scowling at him.

“You really couldn’t eat the pizza I ordered for you? The same pizza that you get every single time, even when you do say you’re going to order something different? He doesn’t even like pizza and now he has nothing to eat.”

“I ordered him new food.”

“For what?” you ask, clearly not amused, “So he can sit and wait to eat while we finish everything, and then he awkwardly sits there eating by himself while the rest of us are talking? He doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who enjoys something like that, Keel.”

He looks down at his feet,while the two of you stand there. You were tempted to walk up to him, giving in and pushing yourself away from the part of the counter you were leaning on. You wrap your arms around his waist, his own snaking around you and pulling you close to him. “What’s up with you? You’re not like that.” Keelan kisses the top of your head, lingering there as you hear him mumble something. “What was that?”

“He likes you.”

“Oh, not you, too,” you whine, pushing away from him.

“It’s obvious! Come on!” he says, his voice raising a little bit. You were hoping that the rest of them couldn’t hear you in the living room, but you knew they all could. The apartment was small, the walls thin, and if the boys could hear your music from their place, they could hear the two of you talking in the kitchen.

“If it were so obvious, then I would have picked up on it,” you try to counter.

“Babe, I liked you for three years before you finally caught on. For someone whose entire livelihood involves teaching kids that one of the most important things in life is noticing what’s going on around them, you don’t see anything.”

“That’s mean and you know it,” you tell him.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And, plus, they’re Flyers,” he cringes.

“You’ve lived in Philly for six years now and Sidney Crosby is never going to fuck you, get over it,” you counter, knowing that his love of the Penguins captain was the only thing keeping him from liking Nolan and Kevin as guys and not as two of the Flyers.

“The Flyer’s are our biggest rivals!”

“You say ‘our’ like you’re on the team but we both know you can’t skate for shit.”

“Hey, when you’re a fan, you’re part of the team.”

“Jesus Christ, what are we even fighting about?” you yell, silence falling around you as you know that your friends and neighbors heard every word.

He rubs his hands on his face, letting out a deep groan. “I don’t even fucking know. Just don’t get too close to him.”

“He’s just my neighbor. That’s it.”

“Please?”

You roll your eyes at him, knowing that he was being ridiculous. “Fine. I won’t. But you have nothign to worry about with him. I'm dating you. I have been dating you for, what, three years almost?”

He pulls you close to him, tilting your chin up towards him with his thumb before he kisses you. “I love you,” he tells you, holding you tight.

“I love you, too,” you say, resting your head against his chest for a minute.

The two of you go back and join everyone else, Nolan sitting there quietly while Fran, Lindsey, and Kevin were deep in conversation. If they heard anything that happened between you and Keelan, they were doing a good job of pretending they didn’t. “Oh, Y/N, perfect. We were telling Nolan and Kevin about that one night in the library when Danielle brought the roller blades.”

“Oh, no,” you groan, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“So Danielle and Alli are rollerblading across the bridge that connects the new side and the old side of the library, the same floor was connected that way so you could cross over without having to swipe in and out,” Fran starts to explain, “but the old side was built lower than the new side, so when you went from new to old, there was a decline in the bridge. Danielle turns to Y/N here and says, ‘Hey, we’re the same size, do you want to try skating?’”

“Please don’t” you beg, even though you had a smile on your face. It was one of your more embarrassing moments from college, but looking back, you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics you guys had pulled when you were supposed to be studying.

“Oh, no, we’re going to. So she puts on the skates, and Dani practically launches her down the atrium bridge and she has no balance whatsoever.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t stop either,” Keelan says, “Luckily I was there to catch her before she fell flat on her face.”

You roll your eyes, leaning up against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “Yeah, and then you said the worst pickup line ever.”

“Oh, what was it?” Kevin asks, his face red from laughing probably too hard.

“I think I said, ‘Wow, I knew one day you’d fall for me.’”

“I don’t know why I went out with you after that,” you joke, Keelan kissing the top of your head. You glance over to Nolan, the stoic expression covering his face.

“Me neither,” Fran mumbles, Lindsey nodding in agreement.

“I don’t think you want me to expose some of the shit you two did when we were in the library,” you counter, feeling Keelan’s touch retreat. He knew pretty much everything they did in there. The library at your school was the most social place on campus, an academic building where absolutely everyone hung out no matter what was going on. People would meet there, leave their stuff unattended for hours, the unspoken rule that if you had a table with your stuff there, no one would take it. You could get up and leave at any point, you could mess around like you did when you were rollerblading, and even do the things Lindsey and Fran did.

"Hey, maybe Nolan could teach Y/N how to skate," Kevin offers, seeing where the conversation was about to go, only earning and small, 'dude,' from Nolan.

“Like what?” Lindsey tempts you, none of you acknowledging what Kevin had just offered.

“Like when you got drunk on a Tuesday night before your accounting exam while we were there?”

“She didn’t!” Kevin gasps.

“Oh, she did,” you say, not looking away from Lindsey as her face turned bright red. “We had a few water bottles in our fridge our sophomore year, so before we left our place, Linds had grabbed one to take with her. Apparently, someone had mixed in the bottles filled with water with the bottles filled with vodka that we would take with us to parties. Lindsey tastes it, says, ‘ah, fuck this is vodka,’ shrugs and downs the entire thing, spends the rest of the night vomiting, and had to have public safety drive her home instead of walking with Fran and I since she was too drunk to walk.”

“How’d you do on the exam, though?” Keelan asks.

“I think I got a B-?” she tries to remember. “It was accounting, though, so who cares?”

You look over at Keelan, knowing that it was another jab at him. He was a CPA, the nerdiest thing he could be, but it was something he loved, so who really cared? You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek at her words, pulling his arm from around you. “I think I’m gonna go, I have an early morning tomorrow,” he says, kissing you before getting up.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you point out, getting up with him.

“Yeah, I’ll see ya,” he says, practically running to the door, turning to you with his hand on the doorknob. He takes in a deep breath, his eyes closed, “He was staring at you the entire time. Please, keep your promise, ok?”

“I was telling a story, people tend to look at the person telling a story." He gives you a look, telling you to take it seriously, "You’re being paranoid, but ok, fine,” you tell him, clearly unamused.

He goes out the door and to his car, leaving you standing in your doorway watching him walk away. What were he and Fran seeing that you couldn’t? Nolan couldn’t possibly like you already, if at all. You didn’t know him. You were barely friends.

You go back into your living room, mad at your friends for practically chasing your boyfriend out of your apartment. “Can you go one day with him without being mean or rude to him?” you scold them.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t mean,” Lindsey says.

“‘It was accounting, who cares?’ He’s a fucking accountant, Linds. What about when he helped you pass your marketing classes, you know, the ones for your major? But it’s marketing, anyway, who cares?” Her lips press into a thin line, the other three silent as you talk to her like your students would be if you were in your classroom and one of the kids was acting up. “You don’t like that too much, do you?”

“God, I hate that you’re a teacher,” she mumbles, knowing that you made her feel bad for 'misbehaving.' “I’ll apologize to him next time I see him,” she says, not looking you in the eye.

“Good.”

“I think it’s time we get going,” Fran says, getting up off the floor.

Kevin stands up with Lindsey, “Yeah, we should probably go home, too.” Fran and Lindsey leave without another word, Kevin waiting for Nolan to follow him, “You coming?”

Nolan looks at you before turning to his roommate, “I think I’m going to help Y/N clean up, if you want?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” you say, watching Kevin shrug and leave. He was just being nice, you tell yourself. There were pizza boxes, napkins, utensils, whatever Keelan had ordered to make up to Nolan. The two of you start gathering everything in silence and bringing it all the kitchen, you definitely not wanting to be the first one to break it.

“So, they seem like fun,” Nolan says.

You let out a small laugh, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah. Keelan being brought up or around turns them feral.”

“They don’t like him.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They make that very clear every chance they get.”

“Why don’t they? Like him, I mean?”

“Lindsey and Fran were on the crew team at our school,” you start to explain, “and so was Keelan. The men’s and the women’s teams did not get along at all. The guys team was favored over the AD all the time and the guys knew that and flaunted that, so any guy who was on the team during the four years they were, they automatically hate.”

He nods, trying to tie up the now full trash bag. “He doesn’t seem that bad, aside from eating my salad.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you laugh, hopping up on the counter while he still struggles to tie the bag. “That’s not like him, at all.”

The two of you remain how you were for a moment, a comfortable silence between you as Nolan stands there with the trash bag. “Um, well, I can take this out for you,” he tells you. You follow him to the door with the intention of locking it behind him, not expecting him to turn around when he does. “Do you think I could get your number? You know, Kev and I are away a lot, so if we had someone watching our place that we trusted?” he spits out.

You were definitely caught off guard, but why shouldn’t you have your neighbor's number? You pull out your phone, handing it to him as he continues to ramble, “And, of course, we can do the same for you, you know? If you’re ever away with Fran and Lindsey, or with,” he pauses, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat, “with Keelan. Or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Nolan,” you tell him when he hands you your phone back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, leaving to bring your trash out. You lock the door behind him, letting out a groan. He was just awkward and quiet, that didn’t mean anything about whatever feelings he may or may not have towards you.

Nolan goes back into his place, expecting and hoping that Kevin was already tucked away in his room for the night, only to find him sitting on the couch waiting for Nolan like a parent waiting for the kid who was coming in past curfew. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Nolan huffs.

“You like her.”

Nolan turns to Kevin, arms crossed over his chest. “We just met her.”

“Oh, come on,” Kevin eggs on, getting off the couch and following Nolan to his room, “when she was scolding Lindsey like that, you were so turned on.”

Nolan shrugs, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal: “So what if I was? Sexual attraction doesn’t mean that much.”

Kevin narrows his eyes to call his roommates bluff. “With you it does.”

“Whatever,” Nolan says, trying to shut Kevin out by closing his bedroom door on him.

“Just, wait,” Kevin says, stopping him from closing it completely, “She has her boyfriend, who you just met. He’s not scrawny, he could probably take you.”

Nolan’s mouth hangs open at Kevin’s words. “What, do you think we’re going to physically fight over Y/N?”

Kevin shrugs, “You never know. Just be careful. As long as she’s with Keelan, you two are just friends. And hey, you can teach a friend how to skate."

Nolan rolls his eyes, finally getting his bedroom door closed. Just friends.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #philadephia flyers #phiadelphia flyers imagines #flyers #flyers imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #f is for friends

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sufferfictionalcharacters · 3 years

Text

Highly inspired by @epiclamer's One Night hero X villain one!

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"Hero." The team leader spoke solemnly, staring directly at Hero in the eyes. Nervously, Hero pushed back the chair, smiling brightly.

"What's up?" Hero spoke, getting a glare by one of their team members. A silence filled the room as the four people stared Hero down, maybe in an attempt to intimidate.

Team leader was never like this. They always put on music and laughed directly before a meeting, so whenever team leader got mad- that someone was in deep shit. And it just so happened to be hero, today.

Hero's mind raced. What did they do wrong? A wrong move in accidentally killing that bank robber? What about the flirt with villain...? Maybe it was some mental health issue with another member of the team and they'd said something wrong.

Wiping their forehead, hero tensed up, prepared.

"Are you sleeping with villain?" A teammate spoke, "Give it to us straight."

"No, not as far as I'm aware of... Why would I sleep with the enemy?"

Supervillain narrowed their eyes, nodding to one of the teammates. A click and raise of a remote shows a clip.

The bedroom they'd slept in with villain, the begging to stay. Hero's small, hot squeaking voice went through the projector.

"P..lease stay... One night..." Hero's voice just barely picked up on the video, and villain was facing the opposite direction.

After some hesitation, villain went into bed with the hero, hero's eyes widening as they watched. Another clip came up of them going into the back room of a party.

"...care to explain yourself, hero? Would explain why you're taking longer in combat." A teammate chuckled.

Hero could only gape.

Villain entered the raggedly-painted room, sighing. "Okay, supervillain. What's got you down today?" They rolled their eyes, taking a seat at their usual, marked seat.

Supervillain looked angry, and nobody else was there. They thought it was a team meeting, but they shrugged internally. No biggie.

"Well, I heard from a little bird you were sleeping with the enemy." Supervillain said.

"That isn't against our code, you know. If I even was, that wouldn't be on violation." Villain retorted.

Supervillain sighed, brushing a hand through their own hair. A stare pierced villain as supervillain stood up.

"It is against our policy to mercy, which is exactly what you are doing." Supervillain said, "You would've been caught if not for that, which I am glad for," Supervillain paused, "...however I despise you fraternising with the opposite side."

Villain stayed silent, hugging their knees. They'd been caught, clearly. Supervillain looked up from the table to villain, seeing the state they were in. Their old friend.

Another heavy sigh filled the room, supervillain sitting down again.

"Villain. Look at me." Supervillain said, "This is not okay. Your goal is to kill them." The tone of their voice spoke volumes, Villain not wanting to look up at them.

Staring at the floor, Villain whimpered slightly and quietly. Supervillain, however, didn't hear them. Supervillain gritted their teeth, not wanting to deal with this.

"Look the fuck up at me, Villain." Supervillain growled, villain still refusing to look up.

Roughly gripping their jaw, supervillain glared at villain, forcing them to look at them. A louder whimper escaped whumpee, trying to shake supervillain's hand off their skull.

"Villain. You're fucking worthless. You know that? Being a slut for the other side, yeah?" Supervillain grinned sadistically, punching villain down onto the ground and knocking the chair next to villain.

A sob filled the room as villain cried, attempting to crawl away. "S-Supervillain- pl- please- don-'t-" A desperate cry filled the room as villain was sat on top of, punched again.

"Fucking whore." Supervillain grinned, grabbing something out of his pocket, "Maybe you're good for one thing, though..."

The last thing villain felt was a needle in the neck, feeling blackness fill their vision. The last feeling was a hand against their back and the coldness of the floor.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump community #whump writing

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blxxdyvalentine19xx · 3 years

Text

Passing Our Drummer Like A Bop It - part one

Characters: Rook x Colson

Word Count: 1473

Smut\fluff?: Smut, oral, submissive Rook, dominant\rough Kells, anal fingering.

Series: Passing Our Drummer Like A Bop It

(Based off MGK's song The Start )

Still running on adrenaline after a concert; Colson walked onto the tour bus. He was already half hard from watching Rook for most of the night, the only thing on his mind at the moment was a much needed release. Quietly; Colson walked over to Rook, slipping an arm around the drummer’s waist. “Got a few minutes?” He asked in his friend's ear.

“Yeah, why” Rook asked; leaning into the rapper's body. “What’s up?” He cocked his head back, looking up at the blonde.

“You know why” Colson’s hand cupped Rook’s waist as he buried his head in the shorter man’s neck. “Needy I guess.” He mumbled, his eyes meeting Rook’s as he spoke.

Cluing into what the other was asking; Rook nodded; biting his lip. “You guess?” He rolled his eyes and grinned. “You’re a little more than needy.” Rook smiled as it was obvious Colson was hard. “C’mon” He took Colson’s hand in his and led them toward the back.

Colson mumbled under his breath as Rook poked fun at him. “Not my fault I can’t keep my eyes off you on stage” He let his eyes rake down Rook’s tight little body as the drummer walked in front of him. “You don’t know how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, baby.”

“Had your eyes on me for most of the night” Rook chewed his lip and let go of it, throwing a look at Colson. “You’re always being caught checking me out.” He said, letting go of a soft moan when Colson slapped his (Rook’s) ass.

Spinning the drummer around; Colson attached his lips to Rook’s neck and sucked at it. “It’s impossible not to get drunk off you” He kissed up the man’s neck and slipped his arms around Rook’s tiny waist. “And your tight little body.” Colson nipped at Rook’s collarbones leaving marks across them.

The second Colson took to his neck; Rook’s eyes fluttered shut. “You’re addicted to me, Kells” Rook bit back a whine as Colson bit and sucked at his neck. “You all are.” He let go of a shaky breath when Colson picked him up.

“Of course we are” Colson growled as he picked Rook up and pressed the drummer’s back against the edge of the bunks. Moving the kiss back up to Rook’s lips; Colson pulled the drummer’s shirt off. “You don’t realize how much we’re all hooked on you.”

Rook’s back arched as he hit the bunks. “Shut up fool” He mumbled between kisses and pulled Colson back into a kiss as the rapper’s hand came to his neck. “And fuck me” Rook was let down long enough to get out of his jeans and started on Kells’.

Looking at his drummer; Colson half groaned and let his hand tighten around the man’s neck. “Calling me a fool? Huh?” His voice dropped in tone as his tongue dipped across his lips. “All you call me right now is Kells, sir, or Colson”

Managing to swallow; Rook looked up at Colson. He nodded; his head tilting forward when Colson’s hand threatened his composure. “Y-es sir” Rook took the time to catch his breath when Colson took a moment to get out of his own jeans.

Getting out of his jeans; Colson ran a hand through Rook’s hair. “Better” He tilted his head looking at the man. “Such a fuckin’ brat” The guys were always careful not to cross the line into derogatory terms, which is how they’d coined calling their dummer a brat, as he often was. “Open” Colson had a hold on Rook’s chin and grazed his thumb across the man’s bottom lip. “And don’t swallow”

“I fuckin’ know i’m a brat.” Rook bit at the word and let his eyes settle on the blonde as his mouth was pulled open by Colson’s hand. “Do it” He was used to being a kind of play thing with Colson and would often end up vying for the humiliation.

Growling as the drummer was getting testy with him. Colson shook his own head and spit into the younger man’s mouth. “On you’re fucking knees, now”

Dropping to his knees; Rook made quick work of getting Colson’s boxers down and looked up at him before Colson’s dick was in his mouth.

Wrapping his fingers in the drummer’s hair; Colson let go of a heavy moan when Rook’s lips wrapped around his dick. “Fucking suck it good, baby” his other hand gripped at the bunk.

Taking Colson into his mouth; Rook bobbed his head, hollowing out his cheeks as the blonde watched him. His head being pulled backwards as Colson took control, Rook didn’t dare look away from the man.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Colson groaned as they locked eyes. “Fucking’ beautiful.” He brought Rook forward again and fucked into the drummer’s throat a couple times before letting him take over again.

His eyes fluttered shut as Colson fucked into his mouth. Savouring it; Rook took what he could into his mouth and gagged instinctively as the blonde hit the back of his throat. Sucking at Colson’s dick; he moaned as he tasted pre cum on his tongue. Tapping at the rapper’s thigh he was brought up again. “P-lease Ke-lls” He half whined and whimpered when Colson’s nails raked down his back.

Colson nodded and slapped Rook’s ass again as he pulled the drummer into the bathroom. “Fuck I love hearing you wine like this” He kisssed at the back of Rook’s neck and drew two fingers along the man’s lips. “Suck ‘em good babe”

Taking Colson’s fingers into his mouth; Rook swirled his tongue around the digits and blushed as they met eye to eye in the mirror. He whined when the fingers were taken out of his mouth. “N-eed you.”

Letting himself watch Rook work at his (Colson’s) fingers he moaned out. “Mmm, Fuck” He sliped one of his fingers into the drummer’s ass and moaned out as Rook drowned a moan in the hand that clamped over Rook’s mouth. “Tight little ass too” Colson grinned when Rook arched upward as he was bent over the sink. “Look at you, barely touched and you’re already moaning.”

Rook arched upwards when Colson’s long and slender finger teased his hole. “M-ore please Kells” He whined and basically fucked himself on Colson’s finger. Rook gripped at the edge of the sink as another one of Colson’s fingers slipped into him.

Colson crooked his fingers and dipped them in and out of Rook, prepping the drummer. “One isn’t enough for you huh?” He grinned and watched as his fingers had the younger man squirming under him. “Fuckin’ beg for my dick, Rookie” Colson’s hand gripped the man’s ass as he said.

“Ughh. f-uck Kells'' Rook whimpered as Colson’s fingers hit his prostate. “P-please Kells, N-need you t-to fuck me” He was in bliss and needed to be fucked.

“I wanna hear you ask for it” Colson fucked his fingers into his drummer and met Rook’s eyes in the mirror. “Wanna hear you ask for my dick, baby”

“Fuck! I need your dick Kells.” Rook’s head tipped forward as Colson teased him. “P-lease”

Satisfied with being asked, Colson eased his fingers out of Rook and replaced them with his dick. “F-uck” He let Rook adjust for a moment and ran his hand up the man’s back to Rook’s shoulder. “God, you’re fucking perfect, baby” He near whine when Rook slowly started rolling his hips.

“N-ow p-lease” Looking up to the mirror; Rook moaned as Colson’s lip was between the rapper’s lips and his hand on Rook’s waist. “I need you.”

◯◯◯

Pulling Rook up and into a kiss; Colson grinned as the drummer looked at him with a fucked out expression. “You cheeky little shit” He ran a hand through Rook’s messy hair and shook his head.

“Shut up” Rook rolled his eyes and smiled as he slipped his shirt back on. “You love it just as much as they do.” He found his jeans and slipped back into them and sighed as the hickeys along his neck were obvious. “You never try to hide it do you” Rook was used to Colson not wanting to hide them as people assumed they were together anyway, but he wasn’t dating any of the guys, it was just the sex.

“Nope, and I never will.” Colson pointed it out and found a loose shirt from his bunk. “The longer people assume it’s just me…” He straightened out his hair a bit and looked back at Rook. “...the longer none of us have to explain that we’re all fucking our drummer.” Colson wasn’t ashamed of it, but it did make for awkward conversation outside of the band as he and Rook had been walked in on the same night as Slim and Rook. “We already had to explain that once, don’t feel like having to explain it again.

#rook cappelletty #rookxx #rookxxfanfic #rook #machine gun kelly #mgk #mgk smut #colson baker #kells #series fics

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Dubious Representation (P.4, Final)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Four, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x soft Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 3,110 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse

Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Hank came downstairs, buttoning up his dress shirt. You looked over your shoulder from where you were making breakfast, something you had gotten accustomed to when you stayed over. It was relaxing. He was right about one thing; you did love to cook. And it was nice you had someone who actually seemed to appreciate it rather than taking it for granted. Not to mention, his kitchen was top notch, and his fridge was always stocked cause he gave you the money to do so.

He caused you to pause for a second as he grabbed your shoulders to hold you while he kissed your temple.

“Morning, doll,” he spoke against your skin before he pulled away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You always did on his expensive mattress. Especially after he wore you out.

You finished up and made up two plates. Turning around you found him at the island, clicking away on his phone. You placed his plate in front of him, him thanking you, and slid onto the stool next to him.

He swore under his breath and tossed his phone down before he started eating.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Lisa is being a bitch as usual.” He held a lot of contempt for his ex-wife.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” He took another bite and eyed you. “I’ve got Lauren this weekend again.”

You made sure you were away when she was there. He never made you feel like you had to be but the few weekends he had with her since you had started seeing him, you made yourself scarce.

“Good. You haven’t seen her in a while,” you told him, and you meant it. It had been a couple weeks. “I need to clean my apartment too, so this is good.”

“You don’t gotta go home.”

You shot him a look at that and saw he was staring at you with purpose. You swallowed your bite and forced a shrug. “It’s okay. It’s good you guys have time alone together.”

“We don’t have to always be alone together,” Hank said, taking another bite. He shrugged in turn now, fixing you with another intense look. “I’ve thought about you moving in.”

That was unexpected. And all you could muster was, “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ what?” He sounded like he was going to get on a combative route.

You rested your hand on the counter, meeting his eyes. “That… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Explain it to me.”

You blinked. How did you explain how wrong you felt about falling into another man’s bed so soon? The same day Rich had left, you were back with Hank. Not that you had not slept with him before then but… and how guilty you felt about your feelings for him? His relationship had already been done and had been for a while. You were moving on without a consensual party who had no idea what was happening outside their jail cell. No matter how free you felt since you were not afraid of what kind of mood Rich was going to be in when you got home, there was still history.

“It seems too quick.”

“It’s been six months.” Hank grabbed the jug of iced tea you had placed on the counter and began pouring you and him glasses.

“A lot of people would say too quick.”

“Rich is refusing to see you when you have gone to visit. I don’t think it’s quick enough we make this more serious.”

He sounded bitter about the Rich comment. When you had told him you were going to visit Rich in prison the first time, Hank had been frigid. And then the next two times, he was still bristled. And he had had a “told you so” attitude about it when you came back mopey because he was right about that: Rich refused to see you. He would walk in and see it was you at the table and turn around and walk back through the door.

“Don’t you think?” Hank continued as he finished pouring the iced tea. “You are already sleeping here half the week. It’s a waste of money for you to keep the apartment.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. The apartment was yours now. Something you had not had to yourself for years. But you felt more comfortable here.

“I guess when you put it that way,” you said.

He saw your resolve crumbling and he capitalized, leaning on his arm to come closer to you. “Then what’s the issue?”

“My apartment—"

“You know. I brought it up to come to the point to just tell you: Don’t worry about it. I’ve already contacted your building manager about paying off the rest of the lease. You had only four more months left so that wasn’t a huge expense. You need to sign the paperwork though.”

“Hank!”

“What?”

“You didn’t even ask me. And they just spoke to you about my lease when you’re not even on it?”

Hank waved you off, “You’re getting distracted. Did you wanna keep living there with no AC in the summer and then shitty heating in the winter? And that carpet was atrocious in the halls. Do you not like my house?”

“I like it. A lot.”

“Then again, let me ask, what’s the issue?” You had nothing to say, and he grasped your hand. “Doll, all you need to do is go pack up the things you want to bring here — I’ll get you boxes — and then the rest of it we can send to the thrift shop. AND—" he rose his voice as soon as he saw you were going to protest, and you closed your mouth. “The other stuff — you know things of his — we can ship to his next of kin.”

“His parents.”

“Good. They can inherit it. Just like they’ll inherit him when he’s out.”

You let that sink in for a couple moments before you realized a way out of being here while Lauren was here. “Well, then I should go to my apartment this weekend to do that…”

Hank looked impressed for a split second before he agreed, “I suppose so. But I want you available on Saturday morning. You don’t have to stay here but we are going to the botanical gardens and then getting lunch. I want you there. Is that fair?”

It was a type of compromise, a rarity.

“Yes.”

He had still gotten his way. As usual.

<><><>

Lauren was a sweet girl, eleven years old. She was headstrong just like Hank, and you had to smile watching them go back and forth about their opinions. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

When she got you alone for a moment, she was watching you closely.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to hide your unease.

“I told my dad that daddies don’t get lonely when he asked me who I wanted to live with when they were getting divorced.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They move on quick.” Your stomach clenched, worried where this conversation was going. “But my mom was dating someone before he was. Like almost immediately. It’s just weird. But I’m glad he has someone now.”

You relaxed and nodded before you told her, “Me too. He makes me happy.”

<><><>

A week and a half later, there was a voicemail on your cell phone. You did not recognize the number.

You pressed on it and your blood chilled hearing Rich’s voice.

“Y/N, what the fuck is this about all these boxes of my shit showing up at my parent’s house? You know they don’t have the space in their two bedroom. And what the fuck are you sending it away for in the first place? If you’re even thinking about kicking me out, you’ve got another thing coming, you little bitch. Do you understand me? Moving on like a fucking hussy now that I’m in here and you’ve got space in the bed? I know you’re helpless when it comes to providing for yourself but if you think I’m gonna let it slide that you are spreading your legs for some other fucking guy cause you can’t hack it on your own, you are sorely mistaken! I—”

The voicemail cut off. He must have run out of time.

Your lip was warbling as you stared down at your phone.

“What is it?”

Hank’s voice startled you. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist, straight from the shower.

“Nothing,” you said wiping at your eyes.

Hank’s arm dropped from his head, and he stalked over. He reached his hand out, gesturing for you to hand over your phone. He did not buy it when you said nothing. You slowly relented and he took it from you. Pressing play, he replayed the button and you flinched, the words hurting just as much if not more than the first time you heard them.

Snorting, Hank deleted the message. “Fuck him. And his condescension. You’re doing what’s best for you, and you are hacking it on your own. I say it’s about time you got a new number, Hmm? To avoid that bullshit.” Your lips parted in surprise, and he held your phone back out to you. You took it as he said, “I’ll add you to my plan, baby. We can go tomorrow. I don’t have meetings in the afternoon.”

With that, he turned and walked back towards the bathroom. He had not waited for you to respond.

<><><>

As soon as you were two weeks late, Hank brought home a test. He had stopped using condoms months ago when things had progressed. That same night, he had taken you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. He had taken you there before and you had adored it. That time though it was like a fog was clouding the room. You were happy, you had wanted to be a mother, and he was happy. But you were still married.

Hank had obviously been thinking about that too because a couple days later, he brought it up bluntly as he was watering his flowers.

“You should get a divorce.”

Pushing your sunglasses up, you stared at him in shock. You were reclining on a lawn chair, reading a magazine.

When you did not respond, he looked over his shoulder. You knew this conversation was coming but the knowledge of that did nothing to soften the blow.

“That seems heartless.”

“What? Fully leaving? Or are you telling me you’re planning to go back to him?” He was using that challenging tone.

“No!” you blurted. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He turned the hose off and dropped it turning to face you.

“Y/N, he’s been in jail for over a year. You’ve already sent his shit away, he’s gotten mad about it, you don’t know if his family cares cause you aren’t at the apartment, you’re living with me. And you’re not at your old job. So, they can’t find you there. And you got a new number so no one can contact you. I think the writing has been on the wall where this is going. So what’s with dragging your feet?”

“It’s… hard.”

“A lot of things are hard, but we deal with them. Look, you’ll feel better once it’s over and done with and so will I. I don’t like knowing you’re still legally tied to that bastard. Can you understand that? Not just as the man you’re with but from an attorney’s viewpoint. It’s not good news. I’d sleep easier at night knowing he’s not gonna try to pull some shit.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest if you initiate and oversee this?”

Hank gave a brief chuckle, “No. I’m allowed to represent blood family even. I’m supposed to be unbiased of course but it’s legal to do it. I’m allowed to represent anyone.” He came closer, looking down at you on the chair. “And honestly, if I have it under my belt I represented him — that is if the bastard decides to take it to court, which I’m doubtful he will — and ‘saw the errors of my choice’ and now I’m trying to help you out, that’ll help in court.” He saw the look on your face and shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t mean to be insensitive but that’s how juries are swayed. Sob stories. And I could hit that shit out of the park.”

Swallowing, you contemplated. You had been thinking about divorce for a while. Even more so now that you knew you were carrying Hank’s baby.

You had taken too long to respond again, and Hank added, “Free of charge for you of course.”

You gave a small smile and said, “Hank… yeah, fine. I know.”

“‘Fine’? ‘You know’? Doll, you know I like you to elaborate your firm feelings.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. And I need to take a plunge. I wanna be invested in us. Fully.”

Hank nodded, “That’s better.” He nodded once more. “I’ll get them drafted up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“And?”

“Don’t you wanna enjoy the weekend?”

Hank simpered, “What’s a weekend?”

<><><>

Hank strolled past the security gate and swooped his briefcase up. The visiting room in the prison was bare and beat up. He was seated at the table, waiting, reading emails. As soon as the prisoners were trickling into the room, he kept an eye on the door.

The moment Rich walked in, he hesitated seeing Hank. Unlike with Y/N, he ventured into the room and pulled the chair back, sitting across the table from Hank.

“Surprised you haven’t found yourself in max yet. I was expecting to talk to you through glass. Whatever works though,” Hank clipped, sitting up straight.

“What are you doing here?” Rich asked, his tone tight. He ignored Hank’s jab.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hank said, opening his briefcase and pulling out the pile of papers. He tossed them onto the table and leaned back, waiting for Rich to respond.

Rich stared at them for a few moments and shrugged, “What are these? Early release? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you representing me anymore.”

“Ah, no,” Hank laughed. He was unable to hold it back. “Divorce papers actually. And I’m not representing you. I’m representing Y/N.”

Rich’s face darkened and he snapped, “What?”

“She’s divorcing you now that she’s not afraid you’re gonna bash her in with a monkey wrench. You’re right here, my man. And she’s free out there.” He leaned in closer and said, “Seriously, you fucking up the way you did worked out best for everyone. She’s positively glowing.” He tapped the papers and said, “So, it’s all in here. Just need you to read it over, get your signature, and it’ll be solid.”

Rich was staring harshly at Hank and Hank could pinpoint the moment the realization washed over him. He looked murderous. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“You son of a bitch. Just swooping in when you saw weakness,” Rich growled, slamming his hand on the table. The guards took notice and he immediately reeled it in, much to Hank’s amusement who had not even flinched. Through gritted teeth, Rich vowed, “You’re not going to get away with this. She’s my wife—"

“Yeah, a wife you have refused to see for over a year because what? You’re mad you had to come to her rescue because you were rolling too hard to pay proper attention as she almost got assaulted? Great. Husband of the year award right for you. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”

“I’m not going to roll over on this!”

Hank waved him off, quipping. “Take it to court then. We know how well that worked out for you last time.” He smiled cruelly, “Do you understand how even more easy it would be for me this time to get them to turn against you than the DA did last time? I could easily paint myself as the white knight and yeah, sure, you would get a day out of the prison to come to court, which might seem worth it to you, but it is worth the cost for good representation? I don’t think so. You will get the floor mopped with you and the end result would be the same.”

Rich looked furious and Hank threw his hands out. “Think about it this way. Once you’re out, you can find another woman who was just as naïve and young as Y/N and do what you will. It’s wiping the slate clean for you, fresh start. Plus, Y/N’s already pregnant, so she’s pretty settled in already with me. Don’t wanna go messing that up cause trust me, motherfucker, I will make that hell for you. I’ve got the resources to do so. And man, do I have a vendetta against your ass. So, do you really want to try me?” If Rich could look more furious. His fists were clenched on the table, shaking, but he was keeping himself from lunging across the table. Hank was even impressed; the bastard really did not want to go to max.

Clearing his throat, Hank leaned over and grabbed his briefcase, standing up. “Anyways, you can wipe your ass with that if you want, but it’s still going to go forward. And I have more copies. Just let me know what you wanna do.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and carelessly tossed it onto the table. “In case you forgot my number, champ.”

<><><>

Hank came up behind you and kissed at the nape of your neck. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“You weren’t home when you normally do it,” you told him, running the water from the hose over the hydrangeas that he cherished so much.

“I’m only thirty minutes late,” Hank chuckled.

“But you are particular.”

“That I am,” he breathed, kissing you again on your shoulder. He nuzzled in and nipped at your ear, drawing a smile out of you. “I got the papers back today.”

That caused you to stall, your hand dropping every so slightly, the water not arching as high. It had been a couple weeks since Hank had gone to the prison and all he had told you was that he had left the papers with Rich. You had not heard anything since. Hearing that he had actually sent them back signed…

He noticed your demeanor and his hands came around you, coming to your stomach. He held you protectively there and breathed reassuringly, “Looks like our family is going to be okay.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx

#hank palmer x reader #rdj character #my shit #dark!hank palmer #hank palmer

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kim-poce · 3 years

Note

Kim, I can’t sleep and I hoping Purple could stay up with me. He’s a lapdog, which basically means he gets to be lazy all day. Don’t try to tell me “acting cute” is hard at all. Why does he deserve sleep, especially if I’m not getting any? In fact, I’m going to make sure he can’t sleep for a few days. That ought to make me feel better.

Beige though, he has been so good. Making food, answering Eri’s questions, getting people what they need. Such a good boy. He deserves a nice, long nap. Also many regular breaks from his work. Such a hardworking boy deserves plenty of rest.

(Purple is afraid of you)

Purple swallows hard when he sees you approaching, he didn't flinch nor back away, though, he just kneels with his forehead almost touching the floor and hands behind his back.

"Yes, Sir", he said immediately when you tell him to approach, you are on the armchair, you seem annoyed and tired, he crawls closer anyway, it that what he is for.

The first night isn't hard, with a master and a mistress he often had to stay up for long, still he spend the whole night afraid you would hurt him, gulping every time you move.

The second night he was a bit out of it, and worried, he hadn't seen Pink in too long, how is he? is he getting hurt? what if someone is if him? The worry kept him awake.

But the third night was awful. The quietness, the nothingness, nothing to keep him focused besides the carpet under him, which he could just stare at, he wasn't allowed to move after all.

He tried to focus on his sore muscle, but they weren't hurt enough to keep him awake, he wished you would just hurt him and let him sleep already.

Purple also tried to think why you hate him, was he not cute enough? or Pink is cuter and you need just one true lapdog? he didn't know, he wanted to know so he can be better or at least know what to wait for.

==================

Beige is surprised, he just did his duty, nothing more, it was Master who asked for things to be done, Beige is just a tool, it's master that needs to be praised for being able to explain things to a dumb pet like him.

"I I It it s-sleeps en-enough, Sir, th-thank you", Beige tries, if he sleeps for too long he'll have even more to do the next day, he is just one, and the house is so big, and Master calls him to get things, "I I I d-don't need, p-p-p-lease"

What if Master calls and I don't hear because I was sleeping? He can't, he has to, he has to work, he has to be useful, he has to hear Master, Beige remember that "he" was taken out the basement, what if Beige is the next? he doesn't want to, please.

"p-p-p-p-please, p-p-please Sir, do-don't", he begs on his knees.

#Full House #Purple #Beige

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wellimaginethat · 4 years

Text

Runaway Love

Pairing: Jay Halstead x (female) Voight!Reader

Word Count: 3340

Author’s Note: Um...I’m not entirely sure what this is, but I know it’s not the best and the storyline is weird as hell. This is also definitely AU because I haven’t seen all of Chicago PD and I’m just going with what I know, so I might’ve messed up on some of it (sorry). Also, could I pick a more cliche title? Lol

Trigger Warning(s): Mention of sexual assault (but it doesn’t go into detail), stalking, running away, underage drinking, alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of prostitution (literally just the mention of it because of a case)

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Reader ran away when she was seventeen. On her eighteenth birthday, she met Jay Halstead, who was just getting ready to leave for the Army. After a whirlwind romance before he deployed out, and after constantly sending letter back and forth, and him visiting her when he could, he asked her to move to Chicago with him after he was discharged. Only for her to turn him down, leaving him heartbroken and confused.

Y/N = Your Name

Y/EC = Your Eye Color

Y/HC = Your Hair Color

It seemed like it was a fairly average case. They were trying to track down an all around bad guy, he was involved in a drug ring, a prostitution ring, and had killed at least three people.

They caught him and were taking him in when Voight’s eyes landed on a bunch of photos scattered on the coffee table, narrowing in on one in particular. He walked over and picked it up, frowning at it before turning and storming out to the guy and grabbing him by the arm, pulling him away from the officers that were leading him out to the car.

“Why do you have this?” Voight asked as he held up the photo.

The man barely even spared a glance at the photo, scoffing.

“Why do you have this?” Voight asked more insistently, this time grabbing the man and shaking him roughly, shoving the photo into his face.

The man didn’t seem to be bothered much. “I don’t know, she was just another girl that my boss wanted us to snatch.”

This affected Voight, leaving him visibly distraught.

The officers led the man away.

Jay stepped over to Voight, frowning some as he took a look at the picture, which caused a noticeable reaction.

Voight looked at him and frowned. “What?”

“I know her.” Jay breathed out with a frown.

Voight matched his expression. “How?”

“I met her in Florida, before I deployed out, at a bar near the base.” Jay explained, looking at Voight then.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed out, a few years ago.” Jay frowned deeper.

“This girl has been missing for nearly eight years, and she’s my daughter.” Voight told him.

The rest was sort of a blur for the both of them, and when Jay got back to his apartment, he dug out the last letter he received from her, informing him that she couldn’t leave her life in Florida to join him in Chicago, and started to wonder if maybe the reason she couldn’t was because she was running from something. Then he started digging through the other letters that she had written to him that he still had after all this time. He pulled out one that had a phone number, it was when she had changed her number and sent it to him so that he could call her whenever he could while he was away, which wasn’t very often but still.

He then pulled out his phone, not even considering for a second that it might be a bad idea to reach out to you, and dialed the number.

Three rings.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, a confusion in your voice like you couldn’t understand why anyone was calling you.

Jay was shocked that you answered, and hearing your voice after all this time knocked the breath out of him.

“Hell-o?” You tried again, dragging it out this time.

“Y/N?” Jay breathed out, struggling to remember how to breathe.

There was silence on your end and he was terrified that you’d hung up. “Jay?” You sounded shocked, but pleasantly shocked. “What’s going on?” You asked softly, trying to figure out why he was calling you.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Is everything okay?” You asked, the worry evident in your voice.

“Yes and no.” Jay admitted, leaving you worried.

“What do you mean?”

“I just...I miss you.” Jay told you honestly.

Silence on your end again, but he heard your breath hitch. “I miss you too.” You whispered into the phone.

He was left not knowing what to say again. “I still love you.” He figured you’d hang up at that.

“I still love you too.” You admitted honestly, quietly. “That’s not why I ended things.”

“Then why did you?” He honestly wanted an answer, to hear it from you.

“It’s just...complicated.”

“Is it because you ran away?” He asked abruptly.

You faltered. “Wh-what?” Your mind started reeling, you knew he was in Chicago but that was the last thing you heard. Did he somehow find out about you from a missing person’s poster or something?

“I’m a cop now, Y/N.” Jay told her, like that explained everything.

“I’m confused.” You told him, which wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not.” You answered him with a frown.

“Why did you leave town?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.” Jay answered quickly.

“Well I don’t.” You hung up on him then, starting to think about what you were going to do. If Jay knew who you really were, and where you were living, then he could get a hold of your dad and tell him, and you knew how that would end.

That didn’t stop you from flinging yourself onto your bed and thinking it through as you laid there. If you did go back to Chicago, you’d be with your family again. Maybe you could finally have a normal life. Maybe even fix things with Jay, he did say he still loved you.

~Flashback ~ You left home two months after you turned seventeen because of reasons you’d rather not discuss. You couldn’t believe you had actually gotten away with it, you were certain that your dad would at least be able to tell what you had planned, he was a cop after all. Or maybe that your mom would have noticed that you hugged her a little longer than normal. Or that maybe Justin would’ve asked why you called him that night and talked for what seemed like forever, like you would never talk to him again. Or even Erin, you stopped by her house before you left Chicago and gave her like three hugs before you left.

It didn’t seem right. Maybe it was because you were always the good girl, maybe that’s why they didn’t notice, because they didn’t expect it.

The more you thought about it, the more your heart broke. You didn’t want to leave your family behind.

They should have noticed something was up. They should have noticed something wasn’t right with you. They should have noticed.

You had to pull over after driving for an hour because you were crying way too hard. You weren’t even out of Illinois yet, barely even out of Chicago, if you looked in the rearview you probably could’ve still seen the outline of the city.

You didn’t know what you were going to do with your life at this point, but you knew you had to get the hell out of Chicago.

You slept in the backseat of your car at rest stops for about two weeks before you eventually stopped in Florida. Within three months you were able to get a job as an exotic dancer and get yourself an apartment. You avoided getting caught because the owner of the club you worked at was kind of a shady guy, who didn’t care if you were under eighteen or needed to be paid under the table. You liked him because he didn’t ask questions, you didn’t trust him however because, again, he was a shady guy.

By the time you were eighteen, you were doing pretty well for yourself. You made good money, but you still stayed in a cheaper apartment because you didn’t want to risk getting caught and the landlord at your current building didn’t really care about background checks or making sure the name on the lease was your real name.

You celebrated your eighteenth birthday in a dive bar. It wasn’t a horrible place, but it wasn’t the kind of place your parents would want to find you in. And that’s when he walked in with a few other guys. They were Army, you could tell that, but they were newbies. They had to be, they were too fresh faced to have seen combat.

The three of them took a seat at the bar, about six stools away from you and that was when he noticed you watching him and made eye contact with you. You offered him a smirk before turning back to your drink and next thing you knew, he was beside you.

“This seat taken?” He asked

You looked at him, smiled, and shook your head. “Nope.” You replied, popping the ‘p’ for effect.

He slid onto the stool and leaned on the bar before turning to face you. “Jay Halstead.” He offered out his hand, which you shook.

“Y/N Samuels.” You told him, using the name on the fake ID you had that said you were 21.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” Jay commented with a smile. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You laughed out loud. “Oh my god, is that what you’re really going with?” You asked, unable to contain the smile on your face. “Does that ever actually work as a line?”

He shrugged a bit before dazzling you with a wide smile. “I don’t know, did it work this time?”

You laughed softly this time and shook your head.

“You’re not charmed?” He asked you, teasingly.

“Not even a little bit.” You laughed.

He shrugged a bit, but his smile didn’t fade. “I am serious though, you don’t seem like the kind of girl who belongs in a bar like this.”

You gave him a half hearted shrug. “And what kind of girl do I seem like to you?” You raised a brow and smirked.

“A nice girl.” He replied honestly, the smile dropping some, being replaced with a seriousness.

You laughed but it was obviously fake. “Well you suck at reading people.”

“Do I?” He asked you, raising a brow himself.

Whatever quip you had died on your tongue and you shrugged, turning back to your drink and remaining silent.

He nudged your arm a bit. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.”

You shrugged again, stirring your drink with your straw. “So Army huh?”

“Is it that obvious?” He asked you, smirking, thankful the playfulness seemed to be coming back to the conversation.

You side eyed him, looking at what he was wearing. “Just a little bit.” You laughed softly.

He chuckled and ordered a beer when the bartender came over. “You want another drink?” He asked you.

You shook your head. “Nah, I’m a bit of a lightweight so I think I’m gonna stick to one tonight.”

He nodded. “So you came to a bar just to have one drink?” He asked curiously.

You smiled at him. “Well, you see, it’s my birthday and I don’t have anyone to celebrate with, and this place isn’t too far from my apartment.”

“It’s your birthday? Then we gotta celebrate.” He told you with a grin.

You watched him for a moment, slowly shaking your head. “I don’t know...I have to work tomorrow.”

“What time do you work?” He asked you.

“I have to be there at four.”

“In the morning?”

“No, afternoon.”

“Then you’ve got plenty of time to get rest.” He replied with a smile. “Come on, party with us until midnight and then you can be like Cinderella.”

You laughed. “I don’t know…”

“Okay, then how about you take it one drink at a time and leave when you want? I just think you should have a little fun on your birthday.”

You had to admit that it would be nice to have some fun, you had been kinda down before, missing your family and everything. So you nodded. “Okay, fine. Midnight and not a second later.”

Well midnight came and went and you were still partying with Jay, his buddies left sometime during this but you and Jay shut down the bar.

The next morning you woke with a pounding in your head, but it wasn’t as bad as what you’d thought a hangover would be like. You sat up and the world felt like it was spinning, and that was when you noticed that Jay was laying shirtless beside you.

“Son of a bitch.” You groaned out under your breath. Not only did you party with a complete stranger, but you brought him home and slept with him. What the hell happened.

Your movement caused him to stir and he opened his eyes, looking up at you, squinting because of the light coming in your bedroom window. “Good morning beautiful.” He murmured sleepily.

You huffed a bit. “Yeah, morning.” You grumbled as you looked away from him, you sincerely hoped that in your drunkenness you remembered to use protection.

He cleared his throat as he sat up, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Something wrong?”

You huffed again and rolled your eyes. “Is something wrong? Yes something’s wrong, I got drunk and slept with a total stranger.”

He pulled his hand off your shoulder at your tone and held both up, eyebrows raised. “Woah, we didn’t have sex.” He was quick to tell you. “Yeah I slept here last night but that’s as far as it went.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Really?”

“Well we did make out, but we didn’t have sex.” He added, nodding.

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.” You breathed out, then shook your head some. “Not that you’re not attractive and all, I just really don’t wanna have a one night stand with a stranger, is all.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.” He nudged you a bit. “You said you work at four, right?”

“Yeah, why?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Well it’s almost noon now, meaning you got time before you have to go to work, what do I gotta say to convince you to spend it with me?” Jay asked you with an adorable smile.

You laughed softly. “Why do you wanna spend time with me?”

“Well you’re pretty and you seem like a nice girl, pretty sure I said that last night.”

You pondered it over for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great, I got a change of clothes in the car, after I change we’ll go get lunch.” He got up and headed out of your room.

You got up too and went over to your closet to dig something out to wear, wondering if he was actually coming back or if that was just an excuse to get out of there without it being awkward.

A moment later there was a knock on your door, so you walked out of your bedroom to answer it.

“Didn’t wanna just walk in.” Jay told you, standing there holding what appeared to be a pair or jeans and a t-shirt.

You stepped out of the way to let him in.

“Bathroom?”

You pointed to the bathroom door and watched as he headed in that direction, you then headed to the kitchen to get something to drink.

You ended up spending the day with him up until right before you had to go to work, almost being late to work in fact. You got lunch together, then ice cream, and just hung out all day. It ended with him dropping you off at your apartment so you could get ready for work, and him asking for your number. You gave him your number, but you didn’t actually think you’d hear from him.

But you did, the next day. He called asking you to have lunch with him again.

And it went like that for a few days, the two of you hitting it off.

Eventually you slept together, and you figured that would drive him away. But it didn’t, again.

It was a whirlwind romance and in the span of two weeks he had told you he loved you, which you returned.

Everything was great, until one day something changed. It was almost three weeks after that fateful night in the bar, and a week after he let it slip that he loved you. It started out as a normal day for you, until he knocked on your door around eleven. You opened it and let him in, but he just stayed standing there, to which you raised a brow.

“I’m being deployed.” He finally told you once he looked at you, he stepped inside then, shutting the door behind him while sighing heavily.

You nodded slowly, knowing this was coming, he was at base training and whatnot and getting ready to be deployed, you didn’t know how long you’d have before he actually got deployed. You swallowed hard, knowing what was coming. He was going to end things. Or so you assumed.

The two of you stood quietly, a mere four feet apart, just inside the door of your apartment. You were staring at him, he was looking at his hands.

Finally you cleared your throat, which got his attention. “So what does that mean?” You asked quietly, not adding ‘for us’ although you knew it was implied.

His eyes met yours and he was quiet for a moment, still as a statue besides his breathing. “I don’t know.” He admitted quietly, still watching you.

You nodded slowly again, trying to keep the tears at bay but you could feel your resolve slipping.

He must’ve noticed because in a second his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. “This doesn’t have to be the end of us.” He whispered to you, placing a kiss to the side of your head.

You clung to him like a lifeline, your hands gripping his shirt, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You really think you’re gonna wanna come back to a girl you’ve only known for three weeks?” You asked sadly, choking on your tears.

He hushed you, stroking the back of your head as he kept you locked in his arms. “And why wouldn’t I?” He asked softly. “I already told you that I love you.”

You forced yourself to pull away from him just enough so you could look him in the eyes. “You really mean it?” You asked quietly.

He nodded silently, a seriousness about him. “Of course I do.” He said quietly, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears.

You still had your doubts, but you nodded and sniffled. “When do you have to go?” You asked quietly.

“Next week.” He said solemnly.

You touched his cheek gently and nodded some. “Well then we’ll have to make the most of the time we’ve got left.” You said quietly.

And that’s what you did. You spent as much time as possible together, you even going so far as to take some time off from work.

And when he left, you were devastated. You kept in touch as much as you could through letters and the occasional phone call. Your love for him grew and his for you.

And then you didn’t hear from him, and you were heartbroken. Six months passed and you heard nothing, you were afraid that he had died and you hadn’t been notified because you were just his girlfriend. You even considered finding his parents in Chicago and calling them to see if they had heard anything, but you avoided doing that because you wanted to believe that he was still alive. And then you got the letter from him saying that something had happened and that he was given an honorable discharge from the Army. You immediately worried about what that could mean. And then you finally got a letter from him, assuring you that he was okay, telling you that he got out of the Army and how he hoped you would join him in Chicago.

You wanted nothing more than to go and live a life with him, but you couldn’t go back to Chicago.

~ Flashback Over ~

After fifteen minutes, you sat up in bed, your decision made. It didn’t take long to pack your bags, you could come back and get the rest of your stuff if you decided to stay in Chicago. You got into your car and began driving in the direction of Chicago, getting ready for the sixteen hour drive.

Chapter Two Coming Soon....

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd imagine #one chicago imagines #one chicago imagine

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masked-buffoon · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12: Curtain call (Part 3)

Warnings: mentions of death and violence

Author notes: the case continues... Don’t hesitate to like/comment/reblog...!

The building was tall, and almost entirely covered by large bays which gracefully reflected the sunlight, in the middle of the day. It was beautiful, yet not so original. Throughout history, humans had always used the sun as a symbol of power, and the fact that, nowadays, it was still the case… Why, it sure did not impress me anymore. It had become so common… I preferred the dark skyscrapers of the Port Mafia, which absorbed the entirety of the light. They were more ominous, and much more impressive than the average modern building. Moreover, the sunset one could see from the highest floor was the most stunning I had ever been given to see. I supposed the darkness of the underground organisation gave it a peculiar taste…

"We're not here for sightseeing…" Kunikida reminded me.

"Right." I stopped staring to follow him inside "Which floor is his business situated on?"

"The last one, obviously…"

We took the elevator. In the cabin, I glanced at the camera.

"Do you think they're expecting us?" He asked me.

"I hope they do. It'll be easier to make them cooperate."

"How are we supposed to find our evidence, though…?"

"I have a warrant to search the place." I pulled out a piece of paper "We'll find traces that our man paid the kidnappers and the bomber."

"That's good… Wait, what?" He suddenly realised "Where did you get that…?!"

I smirked at him and showed him my phone. I was not sure that no one was listening to us, so I preferred sending him a text message. He had Dazai's phone, too, so I did not even need to ask for his number.

I thus explained to him that I had asked my contact to hack into the police's system to create and print an authentic warrant to officially allow us inside Taikin-san's office.

"Then, the giant bunny you bumped into earlier…"

"It was him, or one of his men." I grinned "I know you wanted to investigate while respecting the law, but… Sometimes, things must be done…~"

"I thought you didn't want to pay him again…" He crossed his arms.

"No, indeed. I made a deal with him, instead. But I won't go too much into details, you wouldn't like that." I shrugged "It seems we're arrived."

"But how did they imitate the signature…?"

He was still thinking about the warrant when we came out of the elevator. It made me laugh, innerly.

We were welcomed by a young and pretty secretary. She had a large smile which did not seem to hide anything. My ability, at least, did not hear any threatening thoughts coming from her. However, I did not let down my guard as we followed her in the corridors of the enterprise. She had, indeed, agreed to lead us to the office of Taikin-san as soon as I had shown her our warrant. When they saw us pass in front of their office, the salarymen all stopped working; what were two civilians doing in a tech enterprise which handled the most futuristic technologies of Japan?

She knocked on the door. It was strange, since her boss should have been in China at the moment, but I supposed he had not told his employees a thing about his obscure schemes. The man's face showed his surprise when he saw us enter his office. Kunikida demanded the secretary to leave us alone.

"Hello, Taikin-san." I greeted him, casually taking a seat in front of him "You weren't expecting us, were you?"

"Why…" He took a handkerchief to wipe the sweat away from his forehead "That's, indeed, quite a shock…"

"We thought you were overseas." Kunikida crossed his arms.

"Well, you see, I just came back…"

"Drop the act." I sent him a glare "We know what happened. Where is Sakunosuke-kun?"

"My boy…? He's not there…"

"Oh, is that so…" I chuckled "That's fine, it doesn't matter…"

I pulled out my warrant.

"We have an official authorization to search this place. Please go out, hands on your head."

"Wait… Why…?"

"Don't question us." I grabbed his collar "You lie like a three years old, and your thoughts betrayed you long ago. Get out, now. Before angering me."

Kunikida agreed to watch over him, leaving me with the man's computer. The kid was not there, but he was most certainly inside the building. The Fox had said so.

I did not lose any time to enter the device and, immediately, decided to look into his bank account. In the last two days, he had transferred money twice, each time to offshore accounts. The amounts were tremendous, but those were the prices to hire professionals in the underworld. I printed the evidence and looked around for anything else we could use for the trial that would ideally put him in jail. Inside a drawer of his desk, I found his wallet. Could there be a hint to find his son…?

I groaned when I saw its contents. A picture. The most unpleasant thing was the newborn captured by the camera, who was looking at his mother with wide blue lavender eyes. I had to hold back not to simply tear the photograph and throw it away. What was Taikin-san's connection to the Ogawa family? What was his connection to me? It upset me. It frustrated me. And it made me doubt. Was it not common for unhappy wives to cheat on their husband…? What if my own mother had had an affair with that man…? What if I did not have an ounce of the blood of the Ogawa family…? In a way it would have been wonderful, absolutely relieving; I would not be the daughter of the horrendous man who had married my mother. But on the other hand… If my biological father was that same man who had assassinated his wife's son because the betrayal of their marital duties, the disgust I held towards my origins would remain the same. Unlike the picture I had found previously, I threw that one in the dustbin. I did not really want to know… Did I…?

"We have his financial statements." I said, walking out of the office "We can —"

I stopped before finishing my sentence; I had stepped into something… I lowered my eyes and bit my lower lip. Blood. That sticky liquid my soles had recognised was blood. I followed the trail and crouched down next to the victim to check his pulse. Kunikida was alive, but I did not understand why I had not heard a thing. Was the room soundproof? That would explain it. Quickly, I rummaged in his pockets to find Dazai's phone. I was lucky; he had saved Yosano-sensei's number there. I dialed it.

"Sensei…" I murmured, fearing to be heard "We're at the Taikin enterprise… Kunikida was wounded but he's still alive. We'd need your help… Thank you…"

I removed my coat and tore it to bandage the torso of the detective in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Around us, many people had lost their lives and blood covered most of the walls. It was… Apocalyptic, to say the least. Everyone had been killed, all of the employees, and the man was nowhere to be seen. I was not afraid, but I felt goosebumps forming on my skin. Discreetly, I pulled out my guns. The enemies could ambush me at any corner…

My steps brought me back to the reception. The secretary was there, too, face contorted in fear and blood stuck in her hair. As I was going to walk past her, though, I heard a whisper.

"P… lease… H-Hel… p… Me…"

Immediately, I kneeled next to her and checked her pulse. It was weak, but she was, indeed, alive. Her abdomen had been touched, but, apparently, no vital had been too badly damaged. It was such a relief…

"Don't talk, keep your strength…" I advised "Just… Think. Think about the one who did that to you. I'll hear it…"

"Taikin-san…! It was him…"

"Taikin-san…" I repeated to show her I had understood "Was he alone?"

"No… Armed men came and…"

Her memory replaced her thoughts and, in a flash, I saw the vision of people invading the building, shooting everyone with machine guns before going out with the chief. I nodded.

"Alright… A doctor will come soon. She is a woman, with red shoes. She will heal you for sure…" I assured her.

"What about you…?" I heard her ask.

"I have unfinished business with your former CEO." I smirked "He won't get away so easily."

#bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd oc #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #Dazai Osamu #kunikida doppo #yosano akiko

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pilferingapples · 4 years

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for @shitpostingfromthebarricade , who very nicely asked for an elaboration of my partial disagreement with the idea that Grantaire represents “the people” of France or Paris:

First let me say again it’s a partial disagreement; I do think he represents a specific segment of the people. But one which is not ~~**~~ The People~~**~~ which I will hopefully be able to explain here?

- As far as “the people” goes, that term-- that specific term, “the people” detached from other qualifiers-- especially in Hugo’s specific political-social group-- seems to have been used mostly to mean the workers-- workers, small artisan-merchants, maybe peasants. If someone in a socialist-writer text of the period is called a “child of the people” it means they’re from the working class; if they’re a Man Of The People , ditto. Feuilly is the representative of The People in the Amis’ group-- Enjolras even specifically says so, in the middle of one of his full-on visionary speeches--Feuilly,vaillant ouvrier, homme de peuple, hommes des peuples” (valiant working-man,man of the people--and then the transition/combo that can be read as “man of all peoples” or “men of the people” , plural (or, actually, as “the people’s man”, depending on what you’re choosing to focus on. Lamarque song rewrite go!) . For a guy with very few lines, Feuilly is specifically carrying a LOT of social/political representation here :P (and of course it’s even more Symbolic because Feuilly has no known human parents; his class background is also his family background, he’s of The People, full stop, not of any more specific background. )

We’re never given Grantaire’s exact socioeconomic background, and certainly working-class kids could go into art studies in certain circumstances-- but Grantaire also has no apparent job and has a lot of middle-class-kid hobbies (boxing, singlestick, dancing, etc etc). Everything about Grantaire marks him as middle-class in background, currently choosing to vie-boheme it up. He’s definitely not a representative of “the people” in this sense.

I also can’t go with Grantaire representing Paris, at least not Full On Spirit Of Paris. Leaving aside that Grantaire specifically disavows Paris and his own Parisian-ness in Preliminary Gayeties, Hugo sets up very specific symbolism and character for Paris in Les Mis, and he’s pretty direct about it!

Hugo’s Paris is wild, bold, anarchic, laughing, unafraid of violence, sometimes lazy or careless but essentially generous, bold, insightful and daring, and always inherently inclined to liberty (and also essentially Romantic at its heart, because this is a Hugo novel and anything good has to be essentially Romantic at heart:P) (and Hugo has a Lot of Feelings about Paris). Paris in miniature--Paris Atomized, Paris made human-- is Gavroche, not Grantaire. Even among just the Amis, the one closest to being Hugo’s Paris Avatar is Bahorel, who shares so many echoes of the gamin chapters in his intro, the group’s flâneur-- flâner est Parisien!--and connection to the city, in the same way Feuilly is their connection to the wider world and internationalist causes.

But like I said, I do really think Grantaire represents a part of the population of Paris! An important part!

Specifically, he’s representing that part of the population that wants to take a damn break. The part that feels that “of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads”,(4.1.1) the part that having found a seat wants to sit. The perhaps selfish, but very understandable, part of the population that is secure enough itself to feel like it will do nothing but lose in another revolution, that “some one whose name is all” that says “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.” (5.1.20)

That is to say...Grantaire is representing the apathetic, the burned out, and the bourgeoisie.

This is certainly not the most flattering thing to be representing, but then Grantaire isn’t a particularly aspirational character--not until the very end of his arc, when he stands up and announces himself For The Ideal. Like the people who close their doors,like the bourgeoisie who just wants to rest, he doesn’t hate the ideal, really...but he’s had Enough Trying, he wants peace and security and to not die or see his loved ones die, and all of that is very understandable! But if he were genuinely happy with that...well he wouldn’t be with the Amis at all. He also wants that Ideal, a better kinder world, and unfortunately to get that he’s going to have to stand up.

..Well, not him, personally,of course. When he stands up he’s-a-gonna die, albeit in a super symbolic transformational/salvational way. But the Not Very Subtle At All implication is that this is where the revolution wins: when the comfortable people , and especially the bourgeoisie (well, as Hugo defines them), who have been sitting down, sleeping, wake up and take part.

(This is of course true in a grand sense-- revolutions need mass participation! -- and it’s also true in the very specific sense of what went down in 1830 vs 1832. In 1830, a lot of the bourgeoisie did get involved , and it’s a big part of why that went as smoothly as it did. But in 1832, by and large they said No Thanks We’re Good; a handful of students and some wild Romantics really was about all participation outside of the working/poor classes. But this is already so freaking long and this is not a Barricade Day post!)

So: all of that very long ramble is to say, yeah, I think Grantaire is symbolizing not The People (who are , symbolically and historically, already on the barricade) but a specific and crucial subset of The People Of France (Or Wherever), which is why I never feel like I can go either “Yeah!!” or “Ugh No” when I see a “Grantaire is the people” mention. :P

--sorry I can’t put them under a second cut >< , but these are relevant longer chunks of some of the quotes above!

Of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads. We would exchange Cæsar for Prusias, and Napoleon for the King of Yvetot. “What a good little king was he!” We have marched since daybreak, we have reached the evening of a long and toilsome day; we have made our first change with Mirabeau, the second with Robespierre, the third with Bonaparte; we are worn out. Each one demands a bed.Devotion which is weary, heroism which has grown old, ambitions which are sated, fortunes which are made, seek, demand, implore, solicit, what? A shelter.”(4.1.1, Well Cut)

The bourgeois is the man who now has time to sit down. A chair is not a caste.

But through a desire to sit down too soon, one may arrest the very march of the human race. This has often been the fault of the bourgeoisie. (4.1.2, Badly Sewed)

And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows! Really, people do commit altogether too many follies. An old broken lantern which I have just seen at a bric-à-brac merchant’s suggests a reflection to my mind; it is time to enlighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That’s what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution the wrong way! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh! frightful old world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, kill each other, and get used to it!

... I don’t think much of your revolution,I don’t execrate this Government. It is the crown tempered by the cotton night-cap. It is a sceptre ending in an umbrella. In fact, I think that to-day, with the present weather, Louis Philippe might utilize his royalty in two directions, he might extend the tip of the sceptre end against the people, and open the umbrella end against heaven. ” - (Grantaire, from Premliminary Gayeties, 4.12.2)

What, then, is progress? We have just enunciated it; the permanent life of the peoples.

Now, it sometimes happens, that the momentary life of individuals offers resistance to the eternal life of the human race.

Let us admit without bitterness, that the individual has his distinct interests, and can, without forfeiture, stipulate for his interest, and defend it; the present has its pardonable dose of egotism; momentary life has its rights, and is not bound to sacrifice itself constantly to the future. The generation which is passing in its turn over the earth, is not forced to abridge it for the sake of the generations, its equal, after all, who will have their turn later on.—“I exist,” murmurs that some one whose name is All. “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.”—Hence, at certain hours, a profound cold broods over the magnanimous vanguard of the human race. (5.1.20, The Dead Are In The Right and the Living Are Not Wrong)

#long post #all of the words or none of the words that's how it goes #Grantaire talk

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megthemewlingquim · 4 years

Text

Speak to Me

Summary: Bucky meets a girl. A girl who stutters.

Pairing: Bucky x Stutterer! Reader

Warnings: Frustration. Harsh language because of said frustration.

Prompt: "I've wanted to say, 'I love you' for the first time without stuttering, but that failed."

A/N: This one's personal. I've had a lifelong stutter, and this is very real and true to what I've experienced. I'm doing fine, though. It's not as bad now.

This is for @serpienten 's writing challenge! Thanks for letting me participate!

The first time Bucky sees you is blue.

You're wearing blue. A long blue coat, over black stretch pants. It's raining, and you're under a black umbrella. April showers. People pass you, hurrying to their own destinations.

God, you're a sight. Beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet so sad.

You're having trouble speaking to someone on the phone. You don't seem nervous... just a little sad. Frustrated, even.

You're stammering, getting stuck on words. Occasionally, your head twitches for the tiniest bit until you manage to get a word or two out.

Bucky feels sorry for you. He remembers one man in the 107th, who had a severe stammer. Maybe because it was nervousness, or maybe it was related to trauma, or family history. Bucky didn't know.

"Yeah," you say, curtly, "I ju-just want to-" You stop, your head twitching again. "Eh-eh-explain to him th-that-" You take a breath. "Explain to him that I-I-I-"

He leaves then, only because he doesn't want you to see him staring.

The next time is yellow. You're wearing a yellow dress, with beige sandals. Summertime. August heat. It's a miracle he even recognizes you - you have cut your hair.

You're still a sight. A sight for sore eyes that are used to blood and death and frightened gazes.

You drop your groceries. Those new paper bags... sure, good for the environment, but not very good with carrying things. You crouch down and start to pick them up.

Wow, Bucky thinks, where am I? The 40′s?

Awestruck, and wordlessly grateful to whatever force that has led the both of you to the same place at the same time after months, he approaches you this time.

"Excuse me, miss..."

Your eyes turn, and you glance up at him. Your eyes linger on his arm, and you take a step back, practically falling on your bottom.

"You-" you say, cautiously, "I-I know you... S-suh-suh-soldier..."

He can hear the pain in your voice, and he knows what you are thinking: a) fear, since the Winter Soldier was right in front of you b) absolute patheticness - stuttering isn't the best sign of confidence in the presence of danger.

"It's not like that anymore, miss," he says calmly, sure that you aren't going to say anything. "And... if I'm being honest, it wasn't really my fault." All the while, he takes some of the heavier groceries you are picking up and carries them himself.

You notice what he does Your mouth opens, just a little, in surprise. "Thank you," you say softly. Clearly.

You both stand up.

"Can I walk you home, miss?"

It takes you a little while to respond, for a number of reasons. "Yes," you practically blurt out finally, nodding your head frantically. "Yes. But.. p-puh-lease stay outside the d-door?"

"Of course. My name is James. What's yours?"

You tell him after a few seconds of silence.

And he does stay outside your door. A gentleman.

The next time he sees you is pink. Red-related colors don't always mean anger or lust.

It's a date, and yet it isn't. Coffee shop chatter and lofi music.

It goes well. You share stories of your childhood, your education, your interests. He knows that you already know a lot about him, but he also says things that you don't know - like his favorite color (blue), and his favorite place to be (the beach).

All the while, he's patient. Patient while you speak, patient while you try to. He lets you finish, and if you get even a little frustrated, he gently stops you and asks you to continue, this time more relaxed. And it works. Every single time.

Ten times and ten colors later, you're ready to tell him that he's the best person you've ever met. You're in his car: he's driving you home from a dance.

"Buh - Bucky?" you ask, your hand coming to grasp his. It's gentle and slow, just so that he isn't startled.

"Yeah?" he asks, and he sounds shy. It's amazing how someone can actually be shy like that, even after months of being with someone they're totally at ease with.

You open your mouth to speak, and you freeze.

Come on, it's there. It's right there. Just say those three words. Get it out. Get the Goddamn words out.

"I-I-" you manage, then you stop. Close your eyes. Try again. Stop. Dammit.

Bucky pulls over, and puts the car in park.

"Sweetheart," he says, and you look up at him, tears in your eyes.

"No," you say. "No, no, n-no. Shit. Wh-why does this a-alw-always happen?"

"Hey," he says, "what did you want to say?"

"I-" you shut your eyes tight again, letting out a sob. "Buh-Buck, I-" You will it out of you, and it comes out almost as a yell.

"Iloveyouokay?"

He pulls back, startled. Then he realizes what you've said, and he gives you a small smile.

You don't return it. In fact, you let your tears out, quietly crying into your hand. "Suh-soh-sorry, Buck," you gasp. "Fuck, I-I- shouldn't ha-"

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You do. His voice is drenched with pain: it falls from his lips and hits the car seat with a heavy thump.

"Talk to me. Relax. Tell me everything."

You breathe in and out shakily.. Breathe in his kind eyes, his gentle hand touch.

"I... I wanted to say "I love you" for the first time without stuttering, but that failed." You say it softly and slowly, your tense muscles relaxing.

He looks proud. Proud of you. He leans in and kisses you on the temple, lips so soft and barely there. "Honey," he says against your forehead. You can feel and hear him grinning. "Looks like you've made up for it. I'm so proud of you."

He pulls his head away and embraces you fully. "I love you, too."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #writing challenge #fluff #angst

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petitprincess1 · 4 years

Text

Good Evening Ch10 (Let’s Kill Tonight)

AO3 Link Summary: Alastor goes to wreak some havoc at the warehouse on two unsuspecting guards. How fun :) Words: 2,155 Warning:Warning: Mild gore (at least I think it's mild), violence, blood, amputation (not detailed), death, gun use, burning, and implied cannibalism. ~~~ Alastor had used the backdoor to leave outside of the house, since he heard Charlie getting interrogated by her mother and knew that Lilith seemed to be a shrew lady. The last thing he needed to do was be caught by her, since he knew that she was much more aware than she appeared, especially if Lucifer was any indication. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were fully aware of all that he had done.

No matter, this was something that could be dealt with on a later date. Plus, he wasn’t dense. The creole left a note explaining that he had left something in a previous motel that he stayed in or possibly at the Happy Hotel. Whether or not, they’ll believe it is nothing that he had to worry about at the moment.

Alastor went into his car and looked at his phone, seeing if Husk had responded to him. The man had been around Angelo the longest and may know his password, especially since he’s in charge of keeping track of the guests. Granted, he would be making grand assumptions about his Anthony, but...they were necessary at the moment.

A vibration on his phone caught his attention and Alastor checked the message.

Husker: Why the fuck do you want to know his password? Alastor: Ah! You do know it! Thank goodness that you remain one of my, if not the most, predictable of my friends, Husker. Also, that information is unnecessary. Husker: Any info from you is fucking necessary. Now, what the fuck do you want with it? Alastor: Nice to see your vocabulary remains as limited as usual. If you must know, the ethel had gotten attacked recently and I need to get into this phone. I need to know who hurt him.

As he pulled up into the hotel, Alastor didn’t receive another text from Husk. He assumed that it was going to take a bit more persuading, but he ended up seeing Husk walk up to the car. Al rolled his window down and was about to give a cheeky comment, but Husk tossed a torn piece of paper into the car. He huffed, “Shut the fuck up before I change my mind about you givin’ a shit about anyone. Just leave me out of this. I don’t need to be wrapped up in your shit again. Also, do what you gotta do now and give me the phone afterwards.”

Alastor pouted, “Awww, but what if I need more information?”

The older man rolled his eyes and said, “You won’t. You never were one to forget. ….I’m only doing this for Angelo, not for you. I figured he would be in some deep shit hearing about Val’s death. Just...give them hell.”

The creole grinned coldly up at Husk and chuckled as he typed in the password, “Oh...I plan to.”

Alastor parked his car into the forest nearby and saw an abandoned warehouse about a couple of feet away. Luckily, the plant life was so thick and unkempt that it kept himself fairly hidden. He moved as close as he could without causing too much rustling and saw that there seemed to be at least two people on guard. Seeing them speaking to each other, Al hummed as he moved closer to the miscreants to hear their conversation. The creole truly hated being left out of the loop.

Once he was close enough, he listened to the tanned one complain, “...I’m just saying, man. There ain’t no point. Why do you think it’s just us? No one wants to come to some damn forest. They’re all busy with their, like, ouija boards and...switches...and, I don’t know, jeweling. Stuff like that...look, I got kids, man. I don’t want to waste time with this shit.”

The one that was greying glanced at him and sighed, “You’re a fucking moron. Also, just because there hasn’t been anyone, doesn’t mean that no one will be here. Plus, you think Tony’s family is gonna let Vox off easy. Ya saw how he was when he left. Barely was able to walk. It was surprising watching him start driving-” That was more than enough to assure Alastor that he was making the right decision, not that he had any doubts.

He went back to his car and opened up his trunk. Luckily, he had brought his bag, but he only planned on using his knife for this occasion. No need to set up traps, much harder to clean up the mess. There’s always a stray drop of blood that you always miss. Not to mention that it’s absolute hell to clean in-between the teeth of a bear trap. Al closed his trunk- no, he slammed his trunk as loud as he could, instantly making him hear the two get alerted. Just to add extra flare, the brown-skinned man tossed rocks in two different directions to gain more attention.

Alastor listened to the two whisper to another and scarcely watched them walking toward the forest. Luckily, the woodland was already so dense that he barely needed to hide. These people were just making it so easy for him ~~~ The greying haired man was slowly walking around the woods with a hand on his pistol, ready to pull out his weapon whenever it was deemed necessary. Other than Vox and Val’s crew and a few other associates, no one knew about the location. Well, the forest was pretty well known, but hardly anyone in Eden would go near it. He assumed that it was probably a bunch of kids, thinking that they might be brave or searching for an urban legend or whatever.

Normally, they were told to shoot whoever trespassed, no matter the excuse. However, if they were just kids or teens, the man had no problem with just letting them go with a warning or even threatening to shoot. He was a part of the mafia, but he wasn’t a monster.

The grey haired man jumped at hearing rustling in a bush nearby. He took his gun out and didn’t take the safety off as a just in case. He called out, “Alright, come out slowly and you won’t get a bullet in tha…” He trailed off as a bunny came hopping out from the bush and its little nose twitched up at the guard. The man chuckled, leaned down to the bunny’s height, and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry, buddy. I ain’t Elmer Fudd. You’re safe with me.”

The grey haired man placed a finger to his lips and shushed the rabbit, causing the little guy to bounce away. He gave another laugh as he pocketed his gun and turned to go find the other guard, just to suddenly let out a gurgled, cut-off scream as a knife got embedded halfway into his throat. He trembled as blood slowly came out his mouth, while he choked, staring at a mixed man with a wide smile on his face.

The guard placed a hand weakly onto the well-dressed attacker’s wrist and was about to pull, but the attacker chided, “Ah-ah~! I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s actually far more damaging to pull the knife out, since it tends to cause even more damage. Not a lot of people know that~”

He then winked at the greying man and sliced further up his throat, until he got to the bottom of his chin. The man’s tongue flopped out from the large gash in his throat as blood poured down his neck. Alastor was quick to place his jacket on the forest floor to catch the blood that poured out of the victim’s throat. The guard uselessly tried to stop the bleeding by weakly covering his throat and forcing his hanging tongue back into his mouth.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it did absolutely nothing and the man almost fell to the ground. Thankfully, Alastor was there to help settle the guard onto the ground and slowly placed him onto the jacket. He hummed as he grabbed the jacket and started to drag the man through the forest with one arm, looking at his knife with the other. Al gave a small lick to the blood and small bits of skin on the blade.

He muttered as he licked his lips, “Not bad. A little greasy, but that doesn’t mean it has to go to waste. Why, I bet your tongue would be great in an omelette. Using the right spices, you can easily make it taste like beef! What a wonderful treat to say “thank you”!”

Al kept going on and on as he dragged the dead man back into the warehouse. ~~~ The other guard came walking back into the warehouse when he saw smoke coming from a window. He just assumed that the man put on the large furnace to stay warm. It was pretty cold, after all. He called out to the other man, “Artie, you here? I didn’t see anything! I’m guessing it was just a squirrel or…”

He trailed off and dropped his gun when he saw Artie lying on the ground on a jacket with his throat flayed open, exposing many ligaments, veins, and large chunks of meat. There also seemed to be Artie’s tongue inside of a container that had bloodied water inside of it. The guard covered his mouth and was about to turn to run, but he let out a loud scream as his achilles heel got sliced, rendering his foot useless and making him fall to the floor. He whimpered as he tried to quickly crawl away, ignoring the agonizing, searing pain on his heel and the sound of light, quick footsteps near him.

Alastor walked in front of the guard, causing the crawling man to look up at him. The guard whimpered, “P-Please, d-don’t kill m-me!”

Al crouched down and hummed with a large smile, “Well, you know, I would love to do that, but you hurt someone I really cared about. I-I mean, if you did this to send a message, then...message received” he took the knife out of his pocket and stabbed it through the man’s arm, causing him to scream in pain and tremble more on the ground. Tears ran down his face as his screams made his throat raw.

The guard whined, “Pl-lease, I-I didn’t d-do anything! I-I-I didn’t e-even be-eat the fa- Gah!”

He cried as he got a punch to the face, which that pain paled in comparison to anything else. The creole’s smile grew wider to an almost insane degree as he practically growled, “Don’t...finish that word.”

Alastor looked up at the furnace and huffed as he grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the guard’s arm. The man bit his lip, trying not to cry out more. He gave shuddering whine and tried begging again, “P-Please, don’t kill m-me! I have k-kids, m-man, and a-a wife. I-I swear, I did n-nothing to th- ..An-nthony! Please!”

The creole ignored him as he stuffed the corpse into the flames of the large furnace, breathing in the smell of the quickly burning flesh. He was about to turn to the other man, but jumped as a loud bang happened behind him and felt something graze his cheek. Al blinked as he slowly turned to the man and saw him turning to cock the gun, struggling with his injured arm. He quickly walked over to the guard and stomped on his slashed ankle, snapping the bones and causing a loud wet tearing sound to reverberate throughout the warehouse.

Before the guard could do anything, Alastor grabbed the gun and tossed it away. He huffed, grabbing the man’s uninjured leg and began dragging him away, “I was thinking about letting you live, since I don’t particularly enjoy harming children or hearing their annoying cries. However...now, I need you dead for attempting to kill me! I mean, how rude.”

The guard pleaded as he dug, “No! PLEASE! DON’T! HEEELP! HE-” He got cut off as Al picked up the man and tossed him into the fire on top of the slowly burning corpse. His smile got smaller as it turned more into a relieved one, feeling a sense of catharsis at hearing the guard’s blood-curdling cries as he struggled to get out of the flames.

The creole closed the door to the furnace and left the door open to allow the wonderful aroma of burning cowards stretch throughout the place. He hummed along with the guard’s futile cries, took the tongue in the container, and any evidence that was around, he placed it into his bloodied jacket.

He could leave the tongue at the front entrance, but why leave any clues. Alastor wanted them all to never know what will happen next, just like how his dear Anthony went in unaware. He didn't get to kill the people he was looking for, but it certainly was a start. Al smiled, “Very entertaining, indeed~”

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ofsinnersandsaints · 3 years

Text

palate cleanser (aka rebound sex)

rating: E total word count: 5596 one shot

Raven divorces her cheating husband, and after everything is finalized, she fucks her divorce attorney who is none other than John Murphy.

AO3

Raven hated that she was here, that she had to do this at all, but after finding out her husband of eight years was cheating on her, what else was she supposed to do? He’d begged her to stay, to work it out, telling her over and over how he was willing to fight for them.

She’d almost been convinced by that until she remembered he was the reason all of this had happened in the first place. If he’d really wanted to fight for them, he wouldn’t have given into temptation and broken his marriage vows.

Jesus, he’d signed a fucking rental lease with his girlfriend and now he wanted to fight for their marriage?

Bullshit.

Feeling more certain about her decision she texted Bellamy to let him know she was there. He was the one who had recommended the lawyer she was about to see, they’d apparently gone to school together and Bellamy said he was the guy to go to.

I’M HERE. JUST WAITING. ANYTHING I NEED TO KNOW BEFORE I MEET HIM?

BELLAMY: HE CAN BE AN ASSHOLE, BUT SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD TO HAVE AN ASSHOLE IN YOUR CORNER

Raven smiled as she typed out a response.

THAT’S WHAT I TELL PEOPLE ABOUT YOU!!

He sent back an emoji rolling it’s eyes and Raven was plotting a response when the receptionist called from her desk. “Mr. Murphy will see you now.”

Grabbing her jacket and big purse she walked down the short hallway to the door which said MURPHY on the frost glass, but before she could knock it opened. The man in front of her was a few inches taller than her, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were serious. For some reason when she looked at him, she thought of a 1950s greaser in a leather jacket and combat boots lounging in a booth diner.

“Raven Collins?”

She nodded and took his offered hand before he gestured for her to come into his office. “Bellamy told me you were looking to get divorced, is that right?”

Divorced, what an awful word, but she nodded again and finally found her voice. “Yes. Do you do a lot of them?”

“Enough of them,” he answered as he settled at the little table in the corner rather than his desk. Grateful, because it made the entire thing feel less formal, Raven sat across from him. “I’m a jack of all trades type of lawyer. I do a little bit of everything. What’s the reason for the divorce?”

“Infidelity.”

He nodded, but she was pretty sure she heard him mutter ‘ass’ under his breath as he made a note on his legal pad. She’d always pictures lawyers as cold and heartless, maybe a little formal, but she wasn’t getting any of those vibes from him. She wondered how long it would take for him to be an asshole.

“How long were you together?”

“Fifteen years, but we were only married for eight.”

“You meet him when you were twelve?” he joked.

“Eleven, actually.” He’d been the only person in her world for years, and Raven was just now beginning to understand how bad that was. “We married when we were eighteen. I worked, I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s hot.” The observation was so casually tossed out Raven almost missed, and he was grinning at her when she met his gaze. “That’s not professional to say.”

Okay, that was a little assholey because it wasn’t an apology, but Raven decided she wasn’t offended. Whoever this man, he didn’t appear to be the kind who kept his thoughts to himself which was refreshing after years of trying to understand Finn. “He went to college, I helped pay for some of it, and now he’s a strategist for a politician.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this, he didn’t ask. He probably didn’t need to know her life story in order to get divorced but she was feeling particularly vulnerable and he was nearby. It probably wasn’t the first he’d had someone dump emotional baggage on him.

“Wife in town, girlfriend in DC?” he guessed.

Raven hated how easy it was for him to figure out what had taken her years. “Yes.”

He nodded and leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his stomach as he watched her. “How badly do you want me to kick his ass?”

The question was enough of a surprise she blinked at him. “What?”

“There’s a more polite way to word the question, but you don’t seem the type to want to tiptoe around.”

“No,” at least she wasn’t anymore.

“What’s the endgame you’re looking for,” he asked. “After you file for divorced do you want to split everything down the middle and call it good? Or would you rather do whatever you have to do in order to get it done quickly? Or do you want to squeeze his balls until he calls uncle?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Raven said even as she laughed at the image. “I didn’t know squeezing his balls was an option.”

“It is.” He pushed his notepad to the side. “You paid for him to go to college, and now he’s what, spending the money on his girlfriend? That’s a dick move. If you want to get out quick, I get it, and we can make that happen, but if you want something else let me know.”

“I want my own shop,” she told him, shocking herself.

That had been her private dream, something she had mentioned to Finn only once or twice, something she hadn’t even told Bellamy about. And yet for some reason she was telling a complete stranger.

“Your own shop?” he repeated, making more notes. “You mean your own mechanic’s shop.”

“Yes,” she answered because he had taken the admission in stride, hadn’t looked surprised or wary of a woman owning her own place. Raven was beginning to wonder if anything phased him. “I was hoping once Finn, my husband, got a job we could start paying down some of the student loans so I’d be able to start my own place. It never happened.”

“How much does he make?”

“A lot.”

He nodded and made a note. “Do you have financial information?”

When she’d made the appointment she’d asked what she should bring and they’d basically said everything you’ve ever done during your marriage so she pulled out the manilla envelope from her massive purse and handed it to him. “Yes.”

“Prepared, I approve.” He took the package and leaned back to drop it on his desk, then leaned back in his chair to grab a business card. “And I’ll get started on the papers. What address would be the best place to serve him at?”

She knew the address of his apartment in DC, the one he’d shared with his girlfriend, but she didn’t know if he was still staying there. She wondered what he’d tell his colleagues about the divorce. If even told them about it at all. “Can you serve him at his job?”

He laughed so hard Raven was a little worried he was going to fall out of his chair. “Hell yes, I can. I think we’re going to get along just fine Mrs. Collins.”

“Reyes,” she corrected, knowing she was going to go back to maiden name the moment she could. “It’s Reyes.”

Murphy smiled like he understood, leaning forward with his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Raven Reyes.”

Murphy was walking through the bar on his way out when he spotted Raven sitting by herself at the one of the high tables. She was wearing a simple black dress and her hair was down, which he’d never seen before, and before he realized what he was doing he was walking towards her. “Raven.”

She looked up, a bright smile covering her face when she recognized him, and immediately Raven got off the chair and reached out to hug him. “What are you doing out on a school night?”

The casual affection surprised him, set him a little off balance, but he’d made a career out of pretending to be unaffected. “Job offer,” he answered.

“Are you heading out? Do you want a drink?” she gestured to the chair next to hers and without thinking too closely about why, he sat. “What kind of job offer?”

Murphy grabbed a waitress and put in an order for a beer before turning back to Raven. Her hair was much longer than he’d realized, nearly touching her lap as she sat next to him. Combined with the glossy lips and hint of cleavage, she was drop dead gorgeous. “There’s a firm here in town who wants me to join up.”

“Are you going to accept the offer?”

He thanked the waitress when she dropped the glass and bottle at the table, but he drank straight from the bottle. “Nope. I like being my own boss, and I have a problem with authority, so I’d likely just get myself fired. But it was nice to be asked.”

She laughed and lifted her martini to her lips.

“Are you out celebrating?”

“First chance to toast the divorce,” she explained. “I was working my ass off last week and was too tired.”

Murphy looked around the bar. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she answered. “I don’t have a lot of friends anymore. Bellamy would have come out, but he hasn’t been able to get away from work.”

“That’s depressing, Reyes.”

She grinned, as she always did, when he called her by her maiden name. “I’m aware, but I have mozzarella sticks coming so it’ll be less depressing then.”

“Got any plans for your settlement money?”

He’d managed to get more than enough from the cheating son-of-a-bitch to set Raven up for years. Instead of Finn paying back the money Raven had spent while he’d been going to school, Murphy had convinced him to pay the attorney fees, and then a large lump sum which was big enough to make her ex blanche.

“I’m still thinking about the shop,” she admitted. “There’s a place not far from here, it’s a good spot, good space. Wouldn’t take much work to get it up and running.”

“What are you going to call it?”

“I don’t know, Reyes?” she shrugged. “There’s no reason to get fancy about it.”

The food came then and Raven pushed the plate between them. “I know you just had dinner, but have at these if you want.”

Murphy ate one and could feel Raven’s eyes on him the entire time. “I know I’m sexy, Reyes, but the staring isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Is our professional relationship over?”

It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting but he nodded. “Yeah. Finn’s in charge of paying me, and you’re officially divorced, so my part is done. Why?”

She bit her lip which was distracting. “I came here to pick up someone.”

Every rational thought he’d ever had, and granted there weren’t a lot to begin with, disappeared as she made the admission. “Oh.”

“Finn was the only person I’d ever been with,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “And – I can stop oversharing.”

He absolutely did not want her to stop because he had a pretty good idea what was coming at the end of the conversation and he desperately wanted to get there. “We don’t have attorney-client privilege,” he managed to get out. “But if you’re about to tell me about your sex life, you can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

She smirked and took another drink from her glass. “Sex with Finn was okay, and I thought our relationship was good enough the rest didn’t matter.”

“But you’re starting to think it matters,” and if he was half hard already, no one would be able notice from where he was sitting.

Raven nodded. “At the vey least I want a palate cleanser.”

Murphy put his arms on the table and leaned forward, keeping his voice down so anyone walking by wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Raven, if this conversation isn’t going to end with you asking me to fuck you, please tell me now. I’d rather disappoint my dick sooner rather than later.”

She rubbed her lips together and nodded. “That’s where this was going, yeah.”

He reached into his back pocket and dropped way too much money on the table; he’d been a waiter while getting through school, he knew how much it sucked. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” she answered, sliding off the chair. “Are you good to drive?”

“I didn’t drink at dinner and didn’t finish the beer,” he assured her, putting his hand low on her back to guide her out of the restaurant. “Did you drive?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how much alcohol it was going to take to get up the nerve to hit on someone.”

He stopped walking and studied her. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Just the one drink, and it takes a hell of a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

Satisfied he walked with her to the parking lot and stopped at his car, unlocking it as soon as he was close enough. “This is me,” and since she was already opening her door he wasn’t going to push her out of the way just for chivalry points.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” he asked as he started the engine.

“In mind?” she asked he pulled onto the street.

“For the fucking,” he reminded her and blatantly put his hand so high up on her thigh the only thing keeping him from cupping her was the stretch of the dress across her lap. “I’d hate for you to be disappointed.”

Her gaze was staring at his hand, but he didn’t do anything more. He wasn’t sure if she was skittish or just nervous, but he didn’t want to push it. Not yet anyway.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he encouraged. “You’ve got to have had some fantasies. I’ll go first, my favorite thing to get off to is fucking someone in my office.”

She turned to look at him, and he couldn’t tell because it was too dark in the car, but he was pretty sure she was turned on. Something about the air between them had changed, electrified. “Your office?”

“Yeah, someone comes to bring me lunch and it turns out she’s not wearing any underwear and just came over for a quickie on the desk.” He lowered his voice as they came to a stoplight, “You have to be quiet, you know? Because there’s other people around you don’t want to get caught.”

The streetlights let him see her swallow and nod. “I always wanted to get fucked from behind.”

He was immediately hard as stone but tried keep his voice casual as he drove towards his apartment. “Dickwad wouldn’t do it?”

“Once, but he said he didn’t like it.”

“It’s an ego thing,” Murphy scoffed, because he’d met the man who was dumb enough to lose Raven Reyes. “If you’re not looking at his pretty face than you might forget who’s inside you. But don’t worry, you won’t forget who’s fucking you. I talk a lot.”

“Dirty talk?”

“Filthy talk,” he corrected with a grin. “There’s a subtle, but important difference.”

Raven shifted on the seat, her hand moving his until it was just under the hem of her dress. A wave arousal hit him so hard he nearly groaned. “Give me an example.”

“Dirty talk is like ‘I’m going fuck you with my fingers until you’re desperate to come,’” he explained, his finger twitching against the bare skin of her thigh. “Filthy talk is more ‘I’m going to bury my fingers in your wet pussy until my hand is soaked and you’re begging to come and then you’re going to lick your arousal off me so you know how good you taste.”

She was breathing hard, her hips moving so slightly he wouldn’t know except for the hand he had on her. “You’re right, there’s a difference.”

“Are you wet, Reyes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Raven was almost unbearably aroused by the time Murphy opened the door to his apartment. After he’d asked her if she was wet they’d spent the rest of the car ride in silence, but his hand has been an ever present weight on her thigh. It was a tease, a promise, and it would have been entirely to dangerous for him to finger him while he drove, but she’d nearly broken and asked him to touch her.

“Want anything to drink?” he asked as he tossed his keys in the general direction of his couch.

“No.”

He turned to face her, “Nervous?”

Raven thought about the question seriously and was surprised to find she wasn’t. “No.”

“Raven Reyes,” he grinned with a shake of his head. “You’re a badass.”

“Thank you.”

“When was the last time you had an orgasm?”

“Last week.”

He snorted. “When was the last time you had an orgasm that made your toes curl?”

“A while,” she admitted.

“The original plan was to bring you here, bend you over the kitchen table and immediately fuck you senseless.” She liked how calm and casual he was about all this, like they’d been planning on eating in but he’d changed his mind at the last minute. He put his hands in his pockets and watched her. “But I have a feeling you’ve got a hell of a lot of need bottled up inside that amazing body of yours.”

Raven shrugged. She’d been honest with him earlier when she’d said sex with Finn had always been fine, but the kind of wild and rough sex he was talking about was something they’d never come close to. She was beginning to suspect there was a deep well of desire in her she’d never even touched, but she’d bet her divorce money Murphy would be able to find the bottom.

“You’re probably right.”

“Come here,” and it should have sounded like an order but instead it reached her ears like a suggestion, a seduction, and Raven pictured herself as the fly being lured into a web. She moved towards him, but he didn’t kiss her like she’d been expecting, instead he ran his hands over every part of her body. Down her back, over her ass, the briefest caress over her breasts.

“I’m not going to lie, I pictured fucking you in my office.”

She was surprised. She’d always been weirdly attracted to him, like the high schooler in her recognized had a former bad boy, but she hadn’t been aware the attraction and been reciprocated. “You did?”

His hand slid up between her thighs. “A couple of times. After you came by to finalize everything I went home and pictured you on your knees, but that’s a pretty basic male fantasy.”

“Do you want me to-“ she started but he was already shaking his head.

“You’re here to get fucked, Reyes, that’s the priority.”

Murphy reached under her dress and pulled down her underwear and she was just a little irritated because those had been expensive and sexy and he hadn’t even seen her in them. Then his hand was between her legs again the irritation melted away.

“I can’t wait to see my cock sliding into your pussy,” he told her and while she’d never pictured herself as the type to enjoy filthy talk, Murphy was quickly bringing her over to his side of thinking. The images his words conjured were enough to make her squirm. “But I want to see what you look like when come.”

She felt a finger brush against her and Raven swayed on her heels. “Let me take my shoes off.”

He didn’t move his hand so as she shifted to kick off her heels the contact moved and changed in unexpected ways.

“You’re soaked, Reyes,” he murmured against her temple, the tip of his finger finding the slit of her folds and shifting so gently and slowly it barely counted as moving. “Is all this just for me, or would you get this wet for anyone?”

Raven reached up to hold onto his shoulders, not trusting her balance. “Just for you.”

As if rewarding her for the answer he increased the pressure of his finger, sliding through the slickness and circling her entrance but going nowhere near her clit which was now needy for him. “You’re going to come so quickly, aren’t you? You’re not even going to make me work for it.”

Desperate to get more contact Raven reached behind her and slid the zipper down so she could push the fabric down to her hips. His finger paused for just a moment as he looked her breasts, barely encased in a nearly see-through lace bra.

“Fuck,” he murmured as he reached up to roughly touch her. His hand covered her, kneading the flesh, pinching the nipple. “Take it off, I want to see you.”

“Give me a finger,” she negotiated.

His grin was quick and sharp, full of amusement and hunger. “Fair is fair.”

The intrusion was slow and welcomed, her inner muscles instinctively trying to clench around him. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than she’d had in months, so she unhooked the bra and dropped in on a nearby chair.

“I’ve been wondering for weeks what color your nipples are,” he told her, and now that there wasn’t anything separating his hand from her body, the contact was nearly electric. The nail of his thumb scraped against the hard bud, and while she didn’t understand his fascination, she enjoyed knowing he’d fantasized about her too. “You’re gorgeous.”

When she reached for his shirt he shook his head. “In order to this off I’d have to move my hand and I’m not doing that until you come. How many fingers can your pussy take?”

She didn’t think that was a question which actually required an answer so she simply reached beneath his shirt to press her palms against his back. His skin was impossibly hot beneath her touch.

Murphy leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth the same instant his finger began to move inside her.

All train of thought was lost.

She moved against him, but her rhythm was erratic because he wasn’t matching his movements. He’d lick her nipple and then drive his finger deep into her, but never at the same time. It was a constant stream of stimulation with the background of his voice telling her all the things he wanted to do to her.

“That’s right, Reyes, fuck my hand.”

“Another finger,” she told him. “I need more.”

She’d barely finished the sentence before two fingers began to slightly stretch her. Since she’d found out about Finn cheating on her she’d taken solace with her vibrator, but the little thing was meant just for clitoris stimulation. It had been a while since anything, or anyone, had been insider her.

When he pulled out and then slid back in again she didn’t hold back the moan.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he muttered half a second before he kissed her.

The contact was a shock, which Raven realized was ridiculous because he was literally finger fucking her, a kiss should hardly feel more intimate. His lips were dry and insistent, his tongue a warm pressure against the seam of her mouth.

She opened for him, the sweep of his tongue a demanding thing and she responded in kind. It was a sexy, sloppy kiss, and Raven wondered how he managed to do so many things to her at once. His fingers drove her closer to orgasm even as his mouth plundered.

“Another one,” he asked against her mouth and she nodded.

Murphy tugged at her dress, pulling it up so the entire thing was above her hips. “I want to see it,” he told her, and his voice sounded as wrecked as she felt. “Let me hear you, Reyes.”

Raven could feel his fingers sliding out of her, her fingers gripping so tight on his shoulders she wondered if she might leave bruises behind. Then three of his fingers were pushing in her and she gasped at the feel of them.

“You good,” he asked, voice tight as he dragged his eyes away from her pussy to her face. She kissed him and then nodded.

“It’ll be better when it’s your cock.”

His eyes went blazing hot, his fingers filling her so quickly and roughly she nearly came right then. “Oh my, God.”

“You’re so close,” he encouraged. “Another night, I might drag it out, make you so needy you forget how to talk but I need to be pounding into before I come in my slacks. If you come, Reyes, we both get what we want.”

Raven nodded but she needed more, “My clit.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her upright. “Do it yourself, I want to watch you touch yourself while you get off on my fingers.”

She moved her own hand between them, her fingers brushing against his wrist. When she touched her clit her whole body jerked at the pressure, “Oh my god.”

“That’s it, don’t be gentle.”

His fingers continued to pump into her as she pressed against the hard nub of her arousal, and her orgasm was like a tsunami, crashing into her with almost nowhere.

“Fuck,” she yelled as her entire body went tight with the force of the climax.

Murphy’s hand shined from Raven’s arousal, and while he’d told her in the car she’d lick it off of him, he knew he didn’t have that kind of time. Desperate need clawed inside, so raw and primal it felt like drowning; he needed to be inside her or he’d die.

He pushed the dress off her body and turned her around to face the kitchen table. “Bend over,” he ordered, as if he had any control over what was happening. When she put her elbows on the wood, her ass stuck out and the only reason he didn’t come right then was because he wanted to be inside her.

Stubbornness had always been his strong suit.

“Don’t move, I’m getting a condom.”

“My bra,” she said, her voice cracked. “I had a condom in my bra.”

Looking down he found the foil pack on the ground near his feet and tore it open carefully. Not wanting to waste any time, he pulled his cock out of his pants and left the rest of his clothes intact. Once the condom was on, he used the slickness on his hand to lube it. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

It was the only word he needed to hear.

Murphy stepped up behind her, put one hand on her hip and used the other to guide his erection to her entrance. “I’m going to try and give you another orgasm,” he promised. “But I’m so fucking turned on I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, her hips moving back.

He moved the hair from her back so he could kiss the place at the base of her neck. “Do you mind if I pull on your hair?”

Murphy waited while she thought about it. “If I change my mind?”

“Just say stop,” he assured her, trying to remain just a little bit sane with the tip of his cock between the folds of her vagina. “That’s goes for everything.”

She nodded again and he ran his fingers down her spine so he could grip her hips with both hands. “Rough, right?”

“Don’t hold back.”

Taking her at her word he took a deep breath and buried himself to the hilt in one thrust.

She let out a strangled cry and he was about to check in with her when she moved back, pressing her ass into his crotch. “I don’t think you have to worry about me not coming again,” she managed to get out between unsteady breaths. “I’m so fucking close already.”

He could feel the muscles surrounding his cock flutter.

“Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am in your pussy?” he asked, rotating his hips to go just a little deeper. “Fuck, you feel good around my cock. So hot and wet, your pretty ass just begging to spanked.”

“Do that, and I’ll cut off your dick.”

He laughed but took the warning seriously.

Murphy pulled back and slammed into her again, the gasp of shock and arousal from Raven enough to spur him on. He fucked her over and over, the speed so quick and desperate Raven stopped trying to meet his thrusts and just took it.

In the car he’d bragged about being a filthy talker, but nothing he said could be as erotic and raunchy as Raven bent over the kitchen table taking his cock like they’d been born to fuck just like this.

He shifted her hips, pulling them up a little so she nearly on her toes and this time when he drove into her, he found her g-spot. “Fuck, fuck. Do that again, Murphy, I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Murphy repeated the action and she nearly screamed; the kitchen table moved with the force of their joining, but Raven didn’t appear to notice as she asked, “Didn’t you say something about my hair?”

She was flat on stomach now, and he hoped she wasn’t getting burns on her skin from the friction. He wanted to give her dick, not be a dick.

“Decided you were into it, huh?” He wrapped the long strands of her hair around his fist as he teased her. Murphy pulled her hair just a little until her torso was off the table. “I should have fucked you in front of a mirror.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” she admitted.

“I’d get to see your tits while I fucked you, your face while you come. You’d see how fucking hot you are while I drive into you from behind.”

“Fuck, Murphy. I’m close.”

So was he. Honestly, he should get a fucking metal for not having completely blown his wad by now.

He reached below the table, finding her clit with his hand. The movement forced Raven’s head back, her hair still held in his fist, her back arched and he was truly regretting the lack of a mirror.

His fingers pressed against her clit where he kept his strokes short and rough as he pleasured her to edge.

“There,” she moaned. “Fucking shit, you’re good at this.”

“I was inspired,” he told her honestly. He almost pulled out completely out, timed it so when he thrust in all the way he was pinching her clit at the same time.

“Fuck!” she nearly screamed, her entire body shaking with the force of the orgasm.

She was clenched so tightly around him he could barely move inside her, but he didn’t need much more incentive to come. Raven’s tight pussy was pulsing around him and a few seconds later he exploded inside her.

The orgasm was the strongest one he’d ever experienced and felt never ending.

When he finally managed to catch his breath and come back to his body he released Raven’s hair and all but petted her. He ran his hands down her back, along her ribs and waist, trying to soothe them both after what felt like a near death experience.

“Still with me?” he asked when she didn’t move.

“Yes,” she answered and took a deep breath. “I think I stars with that last one.”

There was more than a little male ego in his smile, so he was glad she couldn’t see it. “I’m going to pull out now and take care of the condom. Bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”

As he tossed out the condom he grabbed a towel and cleaned himself up, keeping an eye on Raven as she walked towards the bathroom. When he was certain she wouldn’t fall over he poured them both a glass of water and had already down his by the time she came back out.

Still naked.

“I don’t have the ability to fuck you again right this moment, but damn does my body want to.”

Her smile was amused but he thought he saw a little bit of a blush on her cheeks. “Right back at you.”

Murphy walked to her and handed her the water while he moved around the room to pick up her clothes so she wouldn’t have to bend over and do it. Getting fucked like that was fine, but no one felt cool picking clothes up off the floor.

“Thanks.” She got dressed in front of him, so he didn’t feel particularly bad about enjoying the view. When she pulled on her dress and turned away from him he took the hint and reached for the zipper.

“Is this a one-time thing, Reyes?” he asked, letting go of the dress and taking a step back.

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, turning to look him straight in the eye. “I don’t know,” she answered, but there was a twinkle in her eye and mischief at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I’ll come by for lunch at your office one these days.”

With those words, Murphy was fairly certain he had actually died during that orgasm and was now in heaven.

“Yeah,” and in that moment John Murphy realized he was no longer unaffected. “That’d be cool.”

#murven #the 100 #the 100 fic #murven fic

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professorspork · 3 years

Text

ANOTHER BUSY DAY IN THE ANDROMEDA GALAXY

I started the day running errands on Havarl, culminating with finishing off Jaal’s loyalty mission! I took Vetra with us thinking ‘hey, if anyone knows sibling dynamics...’ but then she factored into all of that absolutely 0%, lol @ me. but no matter! Jaal was super flirty as we made our way to the Forge, and it was adorable when he was like “HERE MEET MY FRIEND SO YOU CAN SEE AKKSUL IS WRONG” and bodily dragged me toward his siblings. their fight was absorbing and intense; I LEGIT GASPED WHEN HIS SISTER SHOT HIS BROTHER. LIKE!! the whole confrontation with Akksul felt super weighty and I really enjoyed it-- keeping my trigger discipline to not shoot that dude was really hard! there was a split second there where his bolt was headed toward Jaal’s face and I was like “if I kill off Jaal in his loyalty mission I’ll be so upset” but nope it all worked out, he has a bitchin cheek scar now, and the respect of his people, and I got a forehead touch so y’know. i melted. GOSH. then I died laughing at Akksul’s not-apology email.

now Jaal wants me to meet his mom(s) but Helen said that’ll lock in the romance, so I’ll probably wait just a little longer so I can uh keep having FWB sex with Peebee and ?maybe??? flirt with Vetra at some point? altho I teasingly called her MOM last time we were in Kadara Port so maybe not. (Jaal still hates it there, he’s so grumpy and it’s cute, but I digress)

this one got even longer than usual so doing a cut

one thing that I really like, that the game navigates in interesting ways, is that to the angara, we’re all just “Milky Way people.” like. so much of the original trilogy is about navigating the differences between all these aliens, and like, some of that is here too, esp with the krogan, but it’s actually really neat the way we’ve flattened out. and even with the krogan it’s still night and day-- like. comparing what Tuchanka is like in ME2 when Wrex is still solidifying his status as warlord is miles away from what it’s like for me to wander around New Tuchanka or, especially, just run into random krogan out and about (like the nice water scouts. WHY COULDN’T I JUST GIVE THEM THE WATER? but I’m getting ahead of myself). I know some of it has the Watsonian explanation of, like, only forward-thinking, open-minded krogan would be interested in the Initiative in the first place, and some of it is the Doylist explanation of ‘well people really liked that Charr/Ereba romance so let’s have more sweetie pie krogan’ but like. overall. it’s interesting, and I’m sure there’s more angles I haven’t considered.

I traced more of those comm buoys for Addison and learned that the doctor she’s obsessed with ran away to get pregnant! I definitely read that whole situation as Addison being in love with this lady and tbh it still doesn’t refute it? but I won’t get any more progress until I make a new outpost. the whole idea of ‘the first human baby born in Heleus’ thing is really cool, though, and I’m invested.

then I went to Elaaden! I feel some kind of way about Lexi diagnosing all of these scavengers with Brain Disease, but I can’t put my finger on it exactly-- other than, I guess, my general discomfort with pathologizing criminality. I was glad she said we couldn’t vaccinate people without their consent, but the whole thing smacks as very... self-conscious on the part of the game creators? like they thought people would say “hey it’s a huge plot hole that the Initiative screened every person before putting them on the arks and yet so many of them do crimes, explain that to me” and they were like “oh yeah shit that makes no sense, it’s not like people faced with the existential crisis of being in a brand new place 600 years away from everything they’ve ever known with no way back and not enough resources and multiple things wanting to kill them might just make desperate, risky choices, that’s not good enough, obviously we need to explain it with BRAIN DISEASE.” come on.

I made it to New Tuchanka, where the postings on the terminals are literally my favorite part of this whole game. THE ONE KROGAN WHO WANTS GINGERBREAD. THE ONE WHO DOESN’T WANT TO FOCUS ON CONS AND SUGGESTS A “PRO-VERSATION.” THE ONE ABOUT THE “PROBLETUNITY” OF MATING SUGGESTING WATCHING KRANTT HARDLY WAIT. THE ONE WHO INVENTED BLOOD RAGE FOR GUN TURRETS. but also, the best one, my favorite one of all: KRANTT THE RAGENING LARP. there is nothing I would not give to play Krantt: The Ragening.

I sort of tripped and fell and decided to finish Drack’s loyalty mission even though I intended to do more Elaaden things first, and that was a blast. Vorn is so presh! and also Drack is my dad so there’s that. I loved that Vorn helped save the day with a poison vegetable, and I love that Kesh pretended not to like the flower he got her. it was like-- okay. real talk, I just spent like 20 minutes trying to find proof that there is, in fact, a scene in parks and rec where someone gives April a friendship bracelet and she pretended to hate it until they threatened to take it back and could not find it ANYWHERE and felt so gaslit until I realized that that scene was not about April at all but Louise Belcher so. GOOD JOB ME. anyway. it was like that. kesh pretending her comm was broken when Tann tried to talk to her is the oldest joke in the book but I laughed anyway.

and then I TOOK SPENDER DOWN FOR GOOD. I’m a little miffed that neither Kesh nor Tann got to be in on that discussion; like, I recognize he was Addison’s underling but given all the bullshit he pulled with the krogan I especially felt Kesh deserved to be there? at one point there was a dialogue tree where I could either say it was Addison’s fault or Spender’s fault, and I picked the latter because I think they both such but Spender sucks worse, but in hindsight I wish I’d stuck it to Addison more because my dialogue was way too nice. when faced with the choice of jailing or exiling Spender, I picked jail despite my desire to defund Nexus Militia because I was scared if I exiled him he’d just come back as a worse enemy because of all his off-station contacts. when reviewing the choice in the codex, though, it narrativized my choice by saying I imprisoned him knowing he “would never survive life on the run from his former associates.” that wasn’t my assumption at all! quite the opposite! I jailed him thinking he’d start a coup from without if I didn’t, and it’s really interesting to me that the game isn’t framing that as a concern Ryder would have reasonably had. anyway, now Brecka has his job, which is good because Brecka is the best.

before leaving I unlocked my last memory, and SURPRISE MY MOM IS ALIVE. WELL. FOR A GIVEN DEFINITION OF ALIVE. i don’t know why I’m surprised; of course my dad sucked that much. but also, the fact that all of that got nestled in with the reaper ‘reveal’ (if you can call it that) felt... very strange? like. this is such a personal, emotional thing for Ryder. obviously for the player harkening back to the trilogy is supposed to be a gut wrench, and objectively, yes, I can see how the knowledge that they might have narrowly escaped certain death is a big deal, but like. the reapers aren’t HERE. they aren’t relevant. my MOM, on the other hand, is and is, apparently! it’s occurring to me I didn’t even try to find her mis-labeled pod, I was so turned around by all the benefactor stuff after the fact. anyway.

swung by Kadara to get drinks with Drack and had an epic bar fight, and then Lexi p much lectured us both abt it because Drack is like 90% spit and duct tape at this point. him talking about raising Kesh giving him a new lease on life was VERY sweet, tho, and his line about how parents aren’t the finish line, they’re the starting line was very good.

went back to Elaaden, which Jaal called “a big planet” while discussing hunting someone down and AU CONTRAIRE, JAAL, IT IS A MOON. wish I’d had Drack with me when I found Annea’s water because I bet he would have had better dialogue than Cora, but alas. felt very weird giving control of the reservoir to the Nexus, but like. Annea being like “you can’t, this is my emotional support monopoly on a vital natural resource” just wasn’t gonna fly with how I’m playing Ryder. I was gratified to hear the Nexus guy at Paradise say we were giving the water to everyone, including krogan and scavengers, because I 100% did not trust Tann not to overrule him with some shitty call.

then I went to the Remnant ship to stop Morda from making a bomb out of the drive core, and it was all going swimmingly until I traced the signal to that cave inside the flophouse and suddenly my triangle button stopped working, making me unable to activate the console. YIKES. a quick google of the issue tells me that this mission is buggy for a lot of people and reloading from an earlier save tends to help, but I tried that and the issue persisted so I gave up for the evening. hopefully a fresh start tomorrow and time for the ps4 to cool off is all that is required.

#leah plays mass effect andromeda

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ghoste-catte · 4 years

Note

Hi! For the meta asks, how about 4, 7, 22 and 24?

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

This was a hard one! Often when I go back to things I’ve written, I just pick them apart and can see where they’re weak. But anyway, here’s a bit from the (very short) fic about Gaara having to make the decision to send his sons off on a deadly mission, let me go.

“Please, just let me go with them,” Lee begs. His knuckles are white against the smooth sandstone of Gaara’s desk. He rarely begs for anything, anymore, accustomed to his tenure and status.

Gaara collapses a stack of papers in front of him. Each page clatters to the desk, bones being thrown for augury.

“Your squad is needed on the Eastern Front,” Gaara says coolly, but he won’t meet Lee’s eyes. “It would be a waste of resources to send two of our best close-range fighters to the same area.”

“Don’t talk to me about strategy right now!” Lee shouts, banging his fist on the desk. The surface rattles. The terra cotta pot of a cactus cracks, soil spilling across the forms. Gaara’s crowded office fills with the freshly dug grave scent of raw earth.

This is one of those few scenes that I feel still stands up to scrutiny after a long time away from it. I really like the imagery that’s in here, the looming death that sort of colors their whole conversation. I feel like there’s a lot of backstory that gets crammed into these few sentences, which is something I sometimes struggle with, going on long tangents about the lead-up to the fic rather than the current plot.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Hmm. I think I write a lot of visual description and do a fair amount of scene setting. I’m hard-of-hearing, so the visual description of places always resonates more with me. I often have to go back and deliberately add descriptions of background noises, because they’re not part of my general milieu. I forget, sometimes, that other people can hear (and hear well!) I think most of my stories are character-driven rather than plot-driven, so you get a lot of character movement and emotions without necessarily much happening. And I think my characterizations are a little unique, maybe slightly left of canon, especially for Lee because I feel like in Shippuden he didn’t get enough depth and became sort of a caricature of himself ... so I like to dive back into the depth of development we got about him in the original series. I have a fair few headcanons that always tend to sneak in, too. Like there being different ninja dialects and languages in the various villages, Lee’s first language not being the Shinobi common language (which is why he struggles with formality registers), Lee having very extensive residual scarring and chronic pain, and Gaara being a manlet (lol).

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

I do! I reread a lot, both my own fics and other people’s fics. It’s sort of a comfort thing, like I know exactly how this story goes and I know I enjoy it. I often re-read when I’m trying to fall asleep, it’s sort of a mental lullaby. I do also reread to catch typos and little nitpicky editing things, so I make minor edits to fics even months later. Plus, like, for the most part I write the stuff I want to read. I really got into writing GaaLee because I felt like a lot of the stories I wanted to read just ... didn’t exist for them, and I wanted to fill that void. That’s much less of a problem now with all the active fans, but I still remember back in the day where you had to basically pan for gold to find good content for them.

24. Would you say your writing has changed over time?

I think so? I haven’t really been actively writing for that long. I wrote some in middle school (my horrible, cringey self-insert LOTR fic is still up on ff.n), and a bit here and there in high school. I’ve gone back and read some of the stuff I wrote then and some of it is ... decent, but clearly really amateurish. Since I got back into actually really focusing on writing in 2019, though, I do think I’ve made some strides. I’ve definitely gotten a lot faster (it took me literal months to write the 18k of Hanakotoba, but I banged out the 33k of The Stolen Child in like 2 or 3 weeks), and a lot more confident ... I can write in more places than in my bedroom with the door closed, and I don’t blush and wince when I write out character names! I think I’ve been able to improve some of my pacing and phrasing, and I’ve been able to build more internal monologue into the characters, which enriches the character development. And I’ve gotten a lot more confident writing smut with my smut prompt fill project this year, which is a big plus for me! Hopefully next I’ll be able to start integrating the smut into fics with actual plot, instead of having my long plot fics completely separate from the PWPs.

Fun Meta Asks for Writers!

#ask meme #answered #lilac-writes

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee (chapter two)

Thank you so much for your response to this fic, I’m so glad people like it. Special thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

If you enjoyed this, lease consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi page! It really means a lot.

Chapters: 1

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Percy hadn’t dressed for a date in a very long time.

In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he ever had. He’d only ever had one relationship, back at boarding school, and he’d only had two outfit choices back then. School uniform or rugby kit. Somehow he didn’t think he’d still be able to pull that off at thirty.

He rifled through his wardrobe one more time, metal clacking reproachfully with each poor offering. Too boring…too stuffy…oil stains…oil stains…ripped…

With a noise of frustration he hiked his bath towel further up his hips, it had started to slip. The only clothes he seemed to own were either designed for a mansion’s ballroom or not fit to be seen outside his workshop. Maybe he had time to go into town and pick something new but even then, what sort of thing should he get?

Percy ran a hand through his hair. He probably wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this. This wasn’t a real date, it was a service. Why was he so concerned with looking good for Vax’ildan, when the half elf likely thought of this as work rather than anything recreational?

“This whole thing was supposed to help you relax a little,” he grumbled at his reflection, half visible in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door, “Not stress you out more.”

His reflection didn’t seem to have an answer for that. It just stared back at him, eyes large and owlish without his glasses, hair sticking up after the shower. Living off takeaway food whenever he actually remembered he needed to eat clearly wasn’t doing him a lot of favours; where he wasn’t rail thin he was more round than he wanted to be. He was a very unhealthy kind of pale, everywhere except the very ill thought out tattoos he’d gotten when he was younger.

In short, he looked like no one’s dream date.

Part of Percy wanted so desperately to turn off the lights and crawl back under his blankets. Or maybe go to his workshop- the larger room in his penthouse that was really supposed to be the master bedroom- and lose himself in cogs and wires and screws. There would always be an answer there. There was always a way to make things fit, a solution he understood. He’d find no such certainty out there, stumbling awkwardly through a facsimile of a relationship.

That part of him was dangerously close to winning when he turned and saw his laptop, a sleek and black machine on his sleek and black sheets, still open, it’s glow reproving and impatient. Percy’s email was still open, the cursor blinking away on the still stubbornly blank message.

Cassandra had emailed him two days ago now. A short and to the point email, appearing cold to anyone who didn’t know his sister but Percy knew how to read the concern in those few words, asking how her brother was, what he was up to. He knew the words that weren’t written as plainly but were there nonetheless. I’m worried about you. Please tell me you’re at least a little bit okay.

She was halfway across the country now, studying at a good university though Percy could picture the horror on his father’s face if he ever heard his only remaining daughter had wandered outside of the Ivy League. But Cassandra hadn’t been concerned about prestige. She’d wanted distance.

She’d run from their parent’s city as quickly as Percy had become welded to it.

He hadn’t replied yet, hence the empty page. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

Hi Cassie, glad to hear you’re doing well and achieving all your dreams and making me so proud even though I’m too much of an emotionally constipated arse to show it. I’ve done absolutely nothing since you left, short of skipping counselling, talking to screwdrivers more than living things, moving like a robot through the activities I think our parents would want me to do and haunting our father’s penthouse like some depraved Phantom of the Opera. Keyleth’s still around though, I continue to be a shitty friend to her. Lots of love, your worthless brother.

Percy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, where there were always two perfect red indentations from his glasses.

Admittedly, hiring someone to have sex and play romance with you wasn’t the sort of thing that he was going to put in an email to his sister. But he’d be able to say he’d left the house. He was meeting new people. He was doing things.

He’d be able to say he was getting a little closer to being okay.

Decisively, Percy closed his laptop but reached for his phone, lying on the nightstand where it had woken him up a full five hours before his date. It took less than two minutes to send a text to Keyleth.

Want to go shopping with me? Need a date outfit.

Vax woke up, as he often did, with a mouthful of fur.

“Urgh,” he groaned, shoving against the great weight on his chest, “Trinket, get off, you’re disgusting.”

Of course it didn’t come out as coherent as that, seeing as his brain wasn’t fully awake. But that was what he’d intended to say.

The large dog whined, not enjoying being evicted from the nice warm bed, landing on the floor with a thump after a dedicated shove from Vax. Neither of them were sure what kind of dog the enormous, dark brown ball of fluff was but all he knew was that he was a hell of a lot bigger than the shelter and his sister had promised he’d be.

“Don’t be mean to my dog!” his sister yelled from the next room, hearing the thump.

“Then tell your horse to stop smothering me in my sleep! If you’re going to try and assassinate me, be a little more creative,” Vax shot back, though he was frowning. His sister was still here? What time was it?

He clawed around for his phone, eventually plucking it from his many blankets, though not until he’d come up with a lipstick, a sock and a chewed up tennis ball. According to the screen, still perfectly functioning even with the hairline crack through it, it was nearly eleven.

Not bad for Vax’ildan. He’d been averaging noon the last few weeks.

Still on his screen were the messages he’d been exchanging with Percy last night. Though it didn’t say Percy on the text windows, he’d decided to keep the name Orthax in a fit of romanticism and intrigue, with an emoji of a red flower beside it. It was very much a tulip and not a carnation but it was the closest he could get.

They’d been texting quite comfortably in the day since they’d first met up and had set their first proper date for that afternoon. Which, shit the bed, Vax now only had an hour and a half to get ready for.

Cursing, he jumped up, staggering a little when his legs momentarily forgot they were legs, surging forward into the room that was half their kitchen, half their living room and too small to be either. His sister was sitting on the sofa, not even dressed for work, reading a book while petting Trinket’s ear. The dog was whining and making himself look very hard done by, probably to get Vax even further in trouble.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Vax paused, “Did you burn the bakery down?”

Vex worked half a hundred odd jobs around the city, often going straight from one to the other, changing her uniforms in the subway bathrooms. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays she worked the early shifts at a bakery a few blocks away, putting in the morning bread and folding croissants. Often she’d come home with some misshapen goodies for supper, making that Vax’s favourite of her jobs.

Not that he really enjoyed seeing his sister run herself ragged, coming in at ridiculous hours to snatch what sleep she could and still struggling to make rent, rarely having the time to do the one thing she really enjoyed- volunteering at the animal shelter.

Though maybe if she did spend more time there, she’d come home with more dogs. Vax could live without that.

Vex wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, “They’re installing new ovens. I’m not the one who put a fork in the microwave last week.”

Vax tried to look offended as only someone entirely guilty of what they were being accused of could, “It was a rare lapse in judgement…”

After a very pointed eye roll, Vex jerked her thumb in the direction of the kitchen counter, “A package came for you, by the way.”

Knowing he still had very little time to get ready but curiosity piqued, Vax wandered over to see a small, brown paper package with his address inked in a very neat hand. He unwrapped it, thinking how he hadn’t had any post for so long, feeling that nostalgic rush of excitement like a little kid with a birthday present.

Inside he found a bag of coffee. The kind Caduceus made and sold at his café. And written on a little post it, right on the front was the same handwriting as the address and suddenly the neatness of the hand seemed so perfect, fitting the voice that accompanied it.

Good morning! See you soon xx P

“What are you doing, you goof?”

Vax had been grinning ridiculously wide for a long time before he even realised he was doing it and his sister’s remark made him suddenly grasp what an idiot he must seem. And how he definitely hadn’t been planning on explaining his new situation this soon. Or with foggy, just-woke-up brain.

“Uh…” he looked up, “Just…a present. From a friend.”

Vex narrowed her eyes, “A friend? What kind of friend?”

“The kind that sends me coffee,” Vax tried to look haughty, “Do you want some or not?”

“That seems very…niche.”

“And?” Vax could feel his voice getting higher and more defensive and entirely less convincing, “Look, no time, I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Gods above, what’s with the third degree this morning? Tie me down and shine a line in my eyes, why don’t you?”

Vex’ahlia watched her brother storm off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as if he had anything to be incensed about. She sighed and turned back to Trinket as he heavily put his head in his mama’s lap.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal…” she murmured to him.

The dog blinked large brown eyes at her.

“You’re right, it probably is,” Vex groaned.

Vax reappeared a little while later, he never stayed in the shower for long. He marched past, towel cinched under his arms, going in front of the sofa so his sister couldn’t miss how he tossed his dripping wet hair and sniffed huffily. He slammed the door of his bedroom, leaving behind a scent that was unmistakably Vex’s favourite, treat day only shampoo.

She resolved to steal some of his coffee as soon as he was gone.

Vax had decided early on to meet always Percy somewhere other than his apartment.

There were a good long list of reasons for this. It would save Percy from being crushed to death under 250 pounds of affection starved dog. It would avoid him coming into contact with Vex, which would only lead to awkward questions and maybe Percy having an arrow fired at him if he startled her on her way to her archery class.

And, most importantly, Vax didn’t want him seeing his place. Not that he was ashamed or anything, he just didn’t want to feel like he had to defend it from someone who clearly lived in penthouses and country mansions. He and his sister had worked so hard to get the life they had now, earning their independence and freedom with tears and sleepless nights. It would always be sweet to them, even if it was poky, cluttered and had a damp problem they couldn’t get rid of.

Vax didn’t want to see everything they’d won look shabby and insignificant through someone else’s eyes; it would taste too much of Syldor. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold back his anger if that happened.

He’d never heard of the restaurant Percy offered to take him to, but he managed to find it and seated himself nice and obviously on the railings across the street. After two minutes of watching the place, Vax realised why he’d never been there. It was so far out of his price range, it may as well have been in a neighbouring galaxy.

He looked down at himself, his large boots and artfully ripped jeans (done by Vex after he put one of the knees through) and loose striped jumper in black and grey. His heart sank as he realised he really wasn’t dressed for this kind of place.

“Vax’ildan!”

His voice was full of warmth, he sounded genuinely delighted to see him. That alone would have caused the delicate, rosy blush on the tips of his pointed ears, if he hadn’t also looked drop dead gorgeous.

Their last meeting, there had definitely been handsomeness lurking under the exhaustion and nerves but this time Percy wasn’t hiding it, he was wearing it plain on his face. His hair was trimmed and smoothed over one side, everything underneath a white buzz that looked almost silver in the afternoon sun. His jaw was clean shaven however, taking years off him in an instant.

And he was wearing a suit. Vax suddenly realised he liked men in suits.

“Percy,” he stood, smiling, accepting the embrace that came his way. Gods, he even smelled expensive.

“I feared I’d imagined how handsome you were last time,” Percy dropped his voice to a more intimate volume as he pulled away, a smile pulling one side of his mouth up, “Apparently not.”

Vax’s ears coloured even more and he was suddenly glad he always styled his hair to cover them.

That’s how they were doing things, huh?

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he smirked, resting a hand on Percy’s hip, “You look lovely, by the way.”

Percy’s confidence suddenly slipped and he gave a bashful smile, “My friend helped me choose it. She’s way better at that sort of stuff than me.”

Vax’s smile became warmer. He found he liked self-assured Percy and awkward nerd Percy. They were less two sides of a coin and more a changeable day of weather in the same sky.

“Well my compliments to her for choosing it and you for looking so good in it,” he grinned, sliding his arm through Percy’s, “Though you’re going to look even better next to me. I forgot who I was going to lunch with…”

Percy stopped, dismay crashing over his expression, “Oh…Vax, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think, I’m sorry if I made you feel like that…”

Vax grimaced, “Percy, no…bad joke, sorry. It’s fine. Though…if there’s a dress code, we might not be getting in…”

“I, um…” Percy coloured a little, “I don’t get turned away from places.”

“Of course not,” Vax looked down at his boots, drawing away from him.

“And…well,” Percy looked through the windows, into the warm exterior of the restaurant, “All those people in there are very well dressed. And I’d much rather spend an evening with you than any one of them. Funny, isn’t it?”

Vax lifted his eyes, so startled it took a few seconds for laughter kicked in, sudden and bright.

“Gods and I thought you were flattering me before…”

“There’s flattery and then there’s truth,” Percy smiled and for a moment, both kinds of weather could be seen in the sky like sun shining through drizzle. It was fairly beautiful.

Once enveloped in the warm, rustic Italian ambiance of the restaurant, the two of them began to talk, each of them surprised by how much they were sharing.

Vax learned that Percy also had a sister, though he didn’t live with her, younger than he was. Neither of them said a word about parents and both were happy with that arrangement. He learned Percy was thirty, had played rugby at his all boys school and would still like to but he didn’t know any teams nearby. He learned he had a mild addiction to video games, was allergic to shellfish and was kind to waitstaff.

Percy learned Vax’ildan preferred red wine to white, partly for the aesthetic which he happily confessed. He learned he’d been out as trans for three years, had been dancing since he was ten and thought tap was a criminally underrated art medium. He had just about every possible ear piercing going, which he shyly showed Percy after a little cajoling, always preferred the second act of a musical to the first and was a very fast eater.

“So…” Percy eventually broached, once he’d finished the last of his affogato, “What would you say to going back to my place after this?”

Vax stopped wondering if there was a subtle way to lick the last smears of chocolate off his plate and looked up, smiling easily, “Of course. Sounds lovely.”

He did a little internal check and found no lingering reservations. Have some probably average at best sex with a handsome, affable guy? He’d heard of worse ways to make rent.

As they walked to Percy’s car, Vax felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a message from his sister.

Are you okay? What do you want to do for dinner?

Vax felt a rush of guilt. He probably should have made sure there were leftovers to take home for her. That was the usual policy when one of them went on a date. The arancini had just tasted so damn good, he’d forgotten.

Sorry, I just ate with a friend. Don’t worry about me.

Less than two minutes later, a reply.

The same friend you mentioned this morning?

Vax narrowed his eyes.

None of your beeswax.

And yes.

“Okay, this is me.”

Vax knew nothing about cars but he could read luxury in the sleek lines of black metal, the silvered wink of axel and ridiculous hood ornament, “Woah…”

“Cars are kind of the one thing I let myself get a little crazy over,” Percy admitted, opening the passenger door for him, “Benefits of having money and being a bit of a nerd for engineering.”

“Yeah well,” Vax shrugged, “You should see my Metro card. It’s pretty swish.”

Percy laughed, sliding in behind the wheel and bringing the engine to life. Vax wondered quietly when the last time someone drove him somewhere was, when he wasn’t left to get wherever he wanted to go on his own two feet.

Of course it was impossible to get to any kind of speed, driving in a city as dense as this, though there was enough power in just the purr of the engine to make Vax anxious if Percy wasn’t such a methodical driver. His hands rarely left the wheel, flitting from here to there when they had to but always returning, blue eyes aware and fixed ahead.

He went to turn on the radio…though drew his hand back after a pause, “Actually…we should probably have a talk about this.”

“About what?” Vax tilted his head.

“Well…about what kind of things we like? About what we don’t like?” Percy bit his lip, “You know. In bed.”

“Oh right,” Vax waited for Percy to say more though none came and he assumed it was his turn first. Clearly Percy’s poised manner of speaking was struggling with talking about sex.

He thought for a moment, deciding to be a little more honest than he was anticipating, a little surer in getting a good reaction, “I don’t usually like being penetrated. Some days I’m down for it but they’re few and far between. Mouth down there is fine but if you’re careful about, you know, the words you use, nothing too specific…I’d appreciate that.”

Percy nodded, still watching the road carefully though he was clearly listening intently, “Okay. Well, that makes what I was going to ask you a lot simpler.”

Vax hummed curiously, prompting him with a look.

Cheeks now fully red, Percy managed to force out in a rush, “I was going to ask if you fancied fucking me?”

Vax gave a bark of delighted laughter, “Atta boy, that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

“Shut up,” Percy was still the colour of Vax’s wine but laughter was bubbling up, “Take this as a warning for the level of inexperience you’re dealing with. In fact, that’s part of the reason why I got in contact with you. Your job is to help me introduce a little bit of…variety into my bedroom. How does that sound?”

Vax grinned, tucking one leg up to his chest, “That sounds like something we can definitely do.”

Vax knew he should be impressed. How could he not be, after seeing the sheer size of the apartment block, a dizzying behemoth of glass and steel that warped perspective in a sickening way, and the opulence of the foyer, everything modern and styled with an effortless hand.

And he was, for a very brief moment. When the elevator doors slid open, right into Percy’s living room and he was shocked by the vista from the wrap around windows, the city wreathed in dusk like a watercolour painting that needed two glances to see was really real, he was too awestruck to speak.

And then all he could think was that this didn’t feel like a home. It felt unlived in. It was like an Ikea showroom, fun to imagine lounging around in but it was sterile and barren. Like a hotel room, like somewhere kept exclusively by a businessman for when he was in the city. Nowhere to really live.

And, as he took him on a tour that didn’t take very long because there was very little in the apartment, Percy looked so lonely. Everything around him seemed too big, making him look like a little kid playing at being his father. Vax watched him rattle around in the black leather, polished silver, exposed brickwork rooms, feeling a strange sense of pity that he couldn’t pin down.

“And this is the bedroom…” Percy pushed back the door, holding it for Vax.

Not my room. The bedroom.

It did have a little more life to it, a good amount of mess that had clearly been hurriedly tidied away that morning. Books, a small TV clearly only there for the benefit of the games console resting against it, half-finished projects of cogs and soldered pipes, blue prints tacked up on the walls that were so detailed and covered in scribbled notes they were incomprehensible to Vax. There was even something living, a plant on the windowsill with brilliant white blooms that were jug shaped and gave off a wonderful smell, kind of like a lily.

“What’s this?” Vax asked, stroking one of its wide, shiny green leaves.

“Oh,” Percy took off his suit jacket, hanging it idly on the door, “A present from my friend, Keyleth. She’s a druid, spends all her time minding the wildlife in the national park outside the city, breeds her own new strains when the mood takes her. She named that one after me as a bit of a joke.”

“What’s the joke?” Vax’s ears picked up with interest.

Percy stopped in the middle of taking off his tie, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, “Oh, it’s, um…kind of an inside thing…”

“You are not getting away with that, absolutely no chance,” Vax raised an eyebrow, folding his arms determinedly.

“Gods, I wanted to wait as long as possible before I had to tell you this,” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew, “We haven’t even had sex yet…”

“I promise I’ll still have sex with you!” Vax wheedled, kneeling on the bed, leaning towards him eagerly, “Tell me!”

“It’s…I’m going to murder Keyleth…it’s called the Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III Lilium…I mean, the lilium part isn’t in my name obviously…that’s the plant…”

Vax paused, carefully controlling his expression, “Oh…”

Percy winced, “Are you still willing to have sex with me?”

“You said you’d pay my rent, right?”

“Yes.”

“We can still have sex.”

Percy looked abashed for a moment until Vax couldn’t maintain his composure and burst out laughing, soon catching his riotous cackling in spite of himself.

Once they’d caught their breath, Percy found himself down to his shirt and pants, the next step in undressing rather a major one, “Mind if I…?”

Vax gave an encouraging gesture, perching on the sheets, eyes interested. The being watched, the sudden irrefutable presence of another heartbeat in the room, another set of eyes on him that hadn’t been there before, had something inside him stirring.

He couldn’t say any more than that yet. Just something. But he wanted to chase after it.

He took his shirt off slowly, methodically, not yanking it off and tossing it to one side like he normally would. He was suddenly so aware of everything, every single movement he made, every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Nice ink,” was the only comment Vax made as he abandoned shirt and trousers. But there was a spark of hunger in his almost black eyes and his pupils were widening by the second.

“Thank you,” Percy smirked, hooking his thumbs under the band of his boxer shorts, “I hate them. Relic of my misspent early twenties.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them one day,” the half elf returned easily, somehow the epicentre of the charged, wanton tension in the room despite being fully clothed down to the boots, “Now the underwear. Please.”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling something not unlike fireworks in his chest. He slid down the last bit of fabric preventing him from being completely and utterly naked (though he wasn’t sure if glasses counted) in front of another person in years.

“Well well…” Vax’s voice was a murmur though it hit Percy like electricity, “You’re a very handsome man, Percival.”

Percy didn’t want to admit how good those words made him feel, his body responding in kind, electricity gathering low in his stomach and between his legs, “Now you, please?”

Vax hopped up happily. Whereas Percy had been shy, methodical, aware of every move he made, his partner was haphazard and eager as if this was all very commonplace.

Though he stopped when Percy blurted, “That’s a little small, isn’t it?”

Vax froze, looking down at himself, only wearing his flesh coloured binder and his boxers. He didn’t enjoy this transition period and stopping still during it was jarring, “What?”

“Your…sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Percy bit his lip, “Your binder. It’s a little too small for you?”

“Well…” Vax shifted, “Yeah, I could do with the next size up but…this one still does the job, I guess. How do you even know that?”

“My boyfriend at boarding school was trans,” Percy explained quickly, “I did my research back then.”

“Oh,” Vax’s defensiveness drained away and he relaxed into the unfamiliar but welcome luxury of not feeling like a novelty, “Well remembered, then.”

It came off shortly after, anyway, along with his underwear. The look on Percy’s face was flattering to say the very least.

Oh yeah, both men had the exact same thought at the exact same time, unbeknownst to each other, I chose well.

“I ordered it on kind of a whim so I hope it’ll fit…”

Vax gave himself a long, indulgent look in the mirror. The harness was real leather and steel, the metal excitingly cold against his flesh, all of it cradling his hips perfectly. The toy itself was black, as if to match the straps that held it in place and married it to his body, black as Vax’s hair.

There was a lovely synergy to the whole look.

“Wicked,” he grinned, not really having heard a word Percy was saying.

He turned and gently pushed him back onto the bed, stopping his anxious muttering, turning it into soft gasp, so soft for such an angular man. Percy looked lovely against the black silk of his expansive bed, so startlingly pale, like he was negative space in the middle of the world.

Vax personally thought the best angle to view a lover from was while pinning them to the surface you were about to fuck them on. And Percy certainly didn’t disappoint, pupils as dilated as an excited cat, red flush spreading down from his cheeks across his chest like ink dropped in milk. Vax could watch as the breath caught in his throat.

A perfect time for a first kiss. And so that’s what he did.

He tasted of wine, white wine, but Vax thought he could learn to bear that t when it came from someone else’s lips. Percy’s hand came up and held him just right, resting right there on the nape of his neck, thumb close enough to feel his racing pulse. His own hand moved down and Percy’s long legs parted so easily for him, letting him feel that softer, warmer skin, the more tender parts of him.

The sweet man was hard enough to be steadily leaking pre already. It must have been a while since he’d had someone. Vax gave him a teasing squeeze but continued down, he had a job to do right now and was determined to do it well.

“Easy, sweetling, I just need to…” Vax gasped, their kiss having left his lungs burning around the edges. He snatched up the bottle of lube helpfully left on the nightstand, though with the immense size of the bed it was a bit of a reach. It was cool against his fingers, thick, the oddly scentless scent of it catapulting him back to other places, other bodies, other faces. To realising sex could be a lot of fun, to rediscovering himself under the hands of others.

He would always love it.

“Just get you good and ready…” he murmured, voice breathy and soft. All Percy could do was moan.

Turns out Percy was tight in more than just personality. But Vax’s fingers knew their business well and carefully, so carefully, he made the man underneath him yield. Percy whimpered as Vax’s fingers breached him, slick and cold, igniting everything inside him that had been waiting anxiously for the spark it needed.

“Vax’ildan…” he gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets and the tightly curled hair at the nape of his lover’s neck.

“It’s okay,” the whisper came in return, “Relax, deep breaths…”

Percy followed his instructions, feeling the thrill of giving himself over to someone else’s control. Evening had stolen away when neither of them were looking and the room had quickly become dark so everything was down to just shapes, devoid of detail.

He felt, rather than saw, Vax’s heart beat faster, teasing his own, beckoning for it to follow. He felt their skin pressed together, growing hot. He heard the smile in Vax’s voice, he felt the creeping cold of more lube running between his cheeks, he smelt sex and sweat and something amber sweet in Vax’s hair. He felt his muscles loosen, melting, becoming Vax’s to reshape as he chose.

“Ready for me?” the half elf whispered in his ear, the hand that wasn’t half buried in Percy resting delicately on his chest, almost chastely in bizarre contrast to the fingers that still rocked inside him, coming achingly close to his prostate but very deliberately not getting there.

“I need you,” Percy moaned, nerves prickling at the neediness in his own voice, the pleading.

Vax caught it too, teeth flashing in the gloom as he grinned, “Good boy.”

Not finishing in that moment took all of Percy’s brainpower, leaving him only enough to whimper, hoping that brought across how much he really, really liked that.

Vex shifted, pressing the rounded tip of the toy a breath into Percy, giving a feather soft groan as the pressure brought the other end of the toy flush against where he needed it. Percy himself swallowed back another whine, feeling the sweet stretch of his entrance. Obediently, he hooked his hands behind his knees and brought them to his chest, leaving himself even more open and exposed, offering himself completely.

He got exactly what he wanted. Vax moved further into him, hips finding a comfortable depth then rocking back and forth.

“Gods, that feels good…” Percy’s eyelids fluttered, his voice a smoky rasp, “Deeper…”

“I’m getting there,” Vax sounded delighted, “Let’s not walk before we can run or you’re not going to be able to do either tomorrow.”

But his thrusts were getting deeper, more deliberate, hitting both of their sweet spots at the same time. Percy began to keen at the apex of each one and soon Vax was grunting and gasping along with him, arms starting to shake and fingers starting to claw at the sheets.

“Can you come just from this? Just from having me in your ass?” Vax panted, whole body taut as a drawn bow.

Percy nodded, fingers leaving white marks in his own legs, “Yes, gods, I’m there, I’m coming…”

Vax grinned, timing it perfectly as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, hitting his prostate directly, swallowing Percy’s loud, shaky moan of release as he shuddered through his own.

It was a while before either of them could marshal words but Vax got there first, “And how was that, Percival Frankenstein von Whatever Lilypants?”

Percy made a sound that probably would have managed to be a laugh if he had any breath, “Damn that fucking plant…”

Giggling, Vax drew out of him and rolled onto his back, the whole room tipping around him and settling a little lopsided but he didn’t care.

“So…” Percy rolled over, lying on his stomach, probably getting the sheets filthy but that was already done, “I think this is going to work out?”

“Me too,” Vax smiled, “That was good.”

“I did set up the bank transfer, of course,” he added quickly, “I haven’t forgotten. Before the 15th, right?”

Vax hadn’t realised how heavy the stress of making that month’s rent had been, not until it disappeared in that moment.

“Thanks Percy. And the coffee was really sweet of you, by the way.”

Percy smiled and shrugged, though clearly pleased, “I thought it would be a nice way to start, at least until I get a few more ideas.”

Vax thought for a moment, letting himself actually want, trying to remember how that felt, “I like…oh, I like knives!”

As soon as it was out of his mouth he realised how that sounded and he clamped his jaw shut.

Percy looked at him, “Wait…what?”

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” Vax asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, “It’s going to leave a hole, you know that?”

Sat on the couch in a loosely cinched blue robe, Percy waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll repair any damage. Go ahead.”

“You might have to wave goodbye to your security deposit…” Vax warned, tossing the kitchen knife lightly from hand to hand, getting a better feel for its weight. Not a throwing knife by any means, a lot heavier and clunkier than his own set, but it would do for a demonstration.

“Vax’ildan, my sweet, if I’d ever had one of those it would have been gone years ago,” Percy arched an eyebrow, “But the company owns the building. Let fly.”

Vax laughed, taking aim at the square white pillar, part of the partition between the kitchen and the living space, immaculately painted and polished. And ideal to plant a knife in. He focused, drew in a long slow breath and then released it as his hand flashed forward.

Half a heartbeat later, the knife was buried half to the hilt in the plaster, a disapproving puff of dust and the ghost of a loud thud settling around it.

“Holy shit,” Percy sounded awed and when Vax turned to look at him, he couldn’t help but notice a now familiar blush in his cheeks.

He’d already texted his sister, giving her a heads up that he was sleeping out at a friend’s. It was only half a lie, Percy could probably be considered a friend at this point.

They just wouldn’t be doing a lot of sleeping.

#sugar daddy au #perc'ildan #percy de rolo #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #vex and vax #cr fic #critical role #vox machina #modern au #urban fantasy au #smut

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