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heartless-symphony · 3 years

Text

Word of love

Just an other one shot to make myself feel better

MASTERLIST

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Word of love

Ship : Spencer Reid x Reader

Type : Fluff

Warning : mention of a case, blood, kidnapping, curse word, gunshots

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1- JJ

When you had met Spencer, you immediately figured him out. The way he was holding himself, the constant fidgeting, you could tell he was a shy person. At least, he was toward you. Of course, you had only just joined the team a few months ago, so he didn’t know you that much. But it was easy to say that there was something off about him, the way he never met your eyes, never had those full-on rants you so often overheard. You weren’t close, because of that. He didn’t really let you get close to him, to be fair, no matter how hard you tried. So you gave up, deciding that if it was meant to be, it would just take time and you shouldn’t rush it.

That’s why, the first time it actually hit you in the face, you were surprised. You hadn’t let yourself get too attached –or so you thought. You had tried to put up a wall between the both of you, just like he had done. But as you were all in the emergency room, surrounding JJ’s bed, and as you heard him whisper a soft ‘I love you’ to his best friend, it hit you really, really hard. You realized a few things, all at once. First, it was the first time he actually showed a hint of emotions in front of you, and you shouldn’t have found it as adorable as you did. Second, you should not have felt jealous of JJ at this minute. Yes, a very adorable, cute, smart FBI agent had just told her he loved her –in a friendly way, you needed to remind yourself- but he said it because she was in actual danger. She had been shot during a case and so you were all here, hoping for her to get better. There was nothing –nothing- to be jealous of. Finally, what really hit you was the way you couldn't stop looking at him, wanting to take his hand, tell him everything will be okay and his friend would be fine. You wanted to be close to him. Which, considering how much distance you both tried to put between you, was weird. Unpleasant.

When it hit you, you looked away. You shook it off. You didn’t allow yourself to feel anything. You couldn’t. You weren’t allowed to fall for him.

2- Motherly love

The second time it happened, you –almost- saw it coming. You were all in Vegas, and you were about to go home after a very tiring case. Spencer, of course, went to see his mom, and Emily had decided to pick him up from there right before leaving, and you just ended up in the car with her as you were driving to the airport. You made your way to the parking lot of the facility, before jumping out of the car. Emily waited for you as you walked to the door, going to get the genius. When you saw him, he was hugging his mom tightly, like it would be the last time. He was resting his head against hers, and you heard him whisper a sweet ‘I love you’, before letting go of her. She smiled sadly, in that way mothers do, and gently patted his cheeks. Blushing a bit, he turned to face you. He looked even redder and you smiled softly. You had always admired the way he was treating his mother, doing his best. You knew it wasn’t easy with the job and it was even worse for him. He had so much love for his mother that it made you feel happy, for her, for him, for the both of them. No matter the hard times they had to go through, they survived and were stronger every day. You admired that in them, their way to take their pain and turn it into love.

When Spencer arrived at your level, his cheeks had gone back to a normal color, but he still had a slightly ashamed look, like he hadn’t wanted you to see him so vulnerable. But you couldn’t care less and you made it very clear, opening the door without a word and walking back to the car. Before taking his seat, he sent you a shy smile and you couldn’t help but look down to hide your own. Letting your guard down was probably the right thing to do, because some people deserved the pain. Because even if it turned badly, you could grow from it. So why keep your heart away from such a compassionate boy?

3- Love you all

It was his birthday, and you hadn’t gotten him anything. Well, not really at least. JJ had hoped for one single gift where everyone would participate, and you had jumped on the occasion. That way you were sure he would get something he liked, without you having to worry about anything at all –like him hating your gift. So, you didn’t know what JJ had gotten and when she got in the bullpen with nothing but a simple envelope, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe she had changed her mind, or maybe it was something stupid. You had thoughts about buying him books, something like that, but not a letter. You were freaking out, silently, sitting at your desk, watching her make her way to spencer. She handed him the envelope and smiled, and you got up, just like the others, to surround the boy as to watch his reaction. You were further away, as usual. You may like him, but you knew he wasn’t feeling the same and he was still very, very cold with you.

You almost didn’t see him open the letter, but you very soon recognized the two tickets in his hands as he took them out. The vintage-looking picture, the handwriting.

‘Tickets for the ‘Letters through ages’ exposition?’

The team didn’t know who to look at. You had both screamed at the same time, interest cursing through your veins. You had jumped from the desk you were sitting on, rushing to Spencer’s side in complete awe of the tickets. Those kinds of tickets were rare and hard to get, only a handful of people had gotten the chance to see this exposition of vintage letters coming from all over the world, and you had dreamed of going there ever since you heard about it. Apparently, Spencer felt the same because his eyes were shining so brightly with happiness, you were almost jealous. Almost. You were too happy for him. What made your heart break a bit, though, was the second ticket. You knew more than anyone else that no one in the team –except the both of you- were interested in this kind of thing, which meant... He had someone else to take.

‘Thank you, all, i love you guys.. I just.. I wouldn’t know who to bring with me...’

You blushed a bit. Of course. He didn’t have anyone, and it shouldn’t have made you feel as relieved as you did. You shrugged and looked up, only to see all eyes on you. Derek’s smirk made you squirm uncomfortably, making you think he was up to no good. And, being himself, he definitely was.

‘Well, I feel like Y/N wants to come with you, don’t you ?’

You blushed even more, gently hitting Morgan on the shoulder. Part of you hated him for suggesting that, but the other was thankful. Maybe you would have a chance to finally see that exposition and, more than anything, you would be able to spend an evening with Spencer, just the two of you. Which sounded like a very nice idea to you.

He looked up to you, smiling shyly, and handed you the second ticket.

‘I do hope you’re free that evening.’

4- Evening together

When it happened, you weren't ready for it. Well, you should’ve, but some part of you still felt like it was unreal. You were both walking home from the show, in silence. It wasn’t awkward, compared to what you had imagined. The silence was calm, almost reassuring. Spencer's hands were in his pockets and he was looking up at the sky with a slight smile that hadn’t left his lips ever since you had arrived. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. He looked like a little kid who had just spent the best day ever, with red cheeks, messy hair and a smile on his lips. You were feeling the same, to be honest, so you couldn’t say anything.

‘I forgot to, uh... Thank you.’

You tilted your head and turned your head to look at him, frowning slightly. His eyes were on you and you wondered how long he had been looking at you. He bit his lip and took his hands out of his pockets, playing with his fingers.

‘I mean, tonight was.. Really great. I didn’t know you like that kind of thing and I'm so glad you-you came with me. It was really... Really thoughtful. I-I loved it.’

You smiled and shrugged, trying to hide your own feelings. You felt great, awesome actually. The night had been so calming, walking through the alleys and reading old love letters from all ages, all origins, in different languages. And the best part had been Spencer. The minute he had picked you up, you knew you would have a good time. His walls were down, like he was suddenly more comfortable around you, trusted you more. And you loved it. He had been adorable, and if it had been a date, you would’ve easily said it was the best you had in a long time. Walking in silence surrounded by paper might sound boring to most people, but Spencer made it entertaining. You stood side by side, facing each paper as he waited for you to finish reading before moving onto the next one. When the letter was in a language you didn’t understand –which sadly didn’t happen as much as you wanted-, he would read it to you, translating every word in a soft whisper, his eyes focused on the page. He had spent the evening doing everything right, and you regretted that it wasn’t a date. He would’ve been a perfect boyfriend, and you were only wishing for him to find the best –someone who would deserve him.

You answered with only a smile, and when he smiled back, it felt like your whole world was finally turning right.

5- I love you

You sort of wished he didn’t have to tell you he loved you that day. It was almost painful, because you couldn’t answer. The tape over your mouth, the tears rolling down your cheek, the gun pointed at your head... Everything was keeping you from talking. From saying it back. And even that, it wasn’t the best moment to tell a coworker you were in love with them when the both of you were held at gunpoint by an unsub.

You knew you were about to die. Well, you thought you were. You believed in the team to save Spencer, but you were pretty sure you were done. You weren’t the one with the information the unsub needed, you weren’t the smart one, you weren’t the useful one. You were just bait, and you had been since the beginning of the case.

Stuck in a cage, you had time to sort out your feelings, admit them to yourself and accept that you would never be able to share them with the one person you loved. Yet here he was, ruining everything, telling you he loved you as you were about to die without telling him you had felt the same ever since you first saw him.

When you heard a gunshot and a scream, you were sure you were dead. Or wounded at least. But there was nothing, until you felt a hand under your head.

‘Open your eyes, Y/N. Dammit, open your eyes.’

And so you did, fluttering your eyes open, waiting for the tears to fade away to see Emily’s gentle, worried smile. You tried to move, tried to get up, but you were still tied up and you knew she was working on that. But you couldn’t think about anything else, anyone else other than the person you were thinking about for years.

‘Spencer...’

‘He’s fine. Don’t worry, we got you.’

You whined, trying to get up again. This time, your feet were free and you stumbled up on your feet, fighting against the tape holding your hands together. As Emily took it off, you looked around and let out a sob when you saw the blood where Spencer had been sitting, but you quickly looked away and your eyes fell on him. This time, you cried. You ran up to him as he was sitting on the floor, Morgan next to him with a medic. But you couldn’t care less. You rushed by his side, wiping away your tears, and kneeled by his side. He looked up at you and you saw worry, relief, fear and shame in his eyes. You bit your lip, searching in his eyes, before leaning in and quickly kissing him, before moving away.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you, Y/N’

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer x reader #spencer x genderneutral reader #spencer reid x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Reid #criminal mind x reader

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obwjam · 3 years

Note

4 with a clone? Any clone you want!

“What can I do to get you to trust me?”

lol back doing these prompts from forever ago, gonna use rex and the 501st boys for this one because they currently have my heart

from this post

———————————————————————

Rex peered through the rusty metal bars, still in awe of what he was seeing. He could certainly understand the fear they must have been feeling, but he would have figured his face was a much better sight than that of a battle droid. Apparently not.

The 501st had been sent on a rescue mission to help a village that had been under siege and h held hostage by the Separatists, and they had finally destroyed the last of the droid army that was holding the civilians at gunpoint. Rex’s job was to go through all the buildings to make sure everyone was safe and accounted for as the rest of the squad set up relief tents outside.

He didn’t expect to find a three-inch-tall person cowering inside a cage.

The tiny thing had stared at him, paralyzed in fear, until Rex moved his hand to unlock the cage and they gasped and pushed themselves into the back corner. Rex had gently tried asking them who they were, what their name was, why they were locked up, but they wouldn’t give him anything but silence.

“Can you at least let me help you outta there?” he asked with a weak smile. He set his blasters down on the ground and took a knee in front of the cage. The little guy couldn’t have been much older than Anakin or Ahsoka. Their matted hair stuck to their tear-soaked face, and their baggy clothes were torn and caked with dirt. They were hugging their legs to their chest and their head rested down between their knees. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Kid?” Rex tried. He was beginning to think the poor thing didn’t even speak basic. “Can you... do you understand what I’m saying?”

It was subtle, but the tiny tilted their head up and made the slightest eye contact with him before whipping their gaze back to their shoes.

“I’ll... take that as a yes.” Rex sighed. He wasn’t qualified to handle something like this. He was just here to make sure the villagers were safe.

“Look, kiddo, I don’t know anything about your situation, but we set up a relief tent outside. It’s got food and water and anything you could want.” Rex looked down to his hand and flexed his gloved fingers. “Now, don’t freak out, but I’m just going to—”

“NO!”

The sudden shout startled Rex, and he lost his balance for a moment. His hand was about halfway to the threshold of the cage before the tiny had had enough. He stared at them, eyes wide.

“P-please... just... just leave me alone...”

Rex swallowed. Their voice was impossibly small and shaky. He had to strain his eyes just to get a good look at them as they shifted their position. He could barely see flakes of rust shimmering down as they rubbed against the cage bars.

“Hey, I’m not... I’m not gonna hurt’cha,” Rex assured. He held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t grab ya. Promise.”

At the movement of his hands, the tiny whimpered and eyed him warily. They were shaking badly.

Rex’s heart sank. The hut they were in was dark, damp and clearly damaged from blaster fire. The tiny was situated deep in the shadows, practically unnoticeable to anyone who passed by. They kept blinking away tears. Rex couldn’t help but wonder how long they’d been stuck in that cage.

“G-go away. Please,” the tiny stuttered, clearly summoning an immense amount of strength to say those words. Whether they were fighting through sheer exhaustion or pure fear, Rex wasn’t able to tell.

“Kid, it’s not safe in here! This hut is badly damaged. It could collapse at any moment. Just let me take you outside with everyone else—”

“No!” they cried again, flinching when Rex shimmied a bit to stay balanced. “I—I can’t.”

“Can’t? Why not?”

“Because!” the tiny was becoming increasingly exasperated, and the look of fear present in their eyes every time they defied Rex broke his heart. “I don’t... belong.”

“Is this not your home?” Rex was confused. Sure, they were the only tiny being they had encountered here, but it wasn’t uncommon for tinies to integrate themselves into larger clans. “Didn’t the Seps put you in this thing?”

To Rex’s horror, the tiny shook their head. “I was in here long b-before the-the droids got here.”

Rex blinked in shock. He saved this tiny... from the villagers he had just helped to free.

“It doesn’t matter,” they mumbled, drawing their knees closer to their chest. “I don’t need—”

“What can I do to get you to trust me?”

Surprised, the tiny cocked their head. “I—I—”

“If what you’re saying is true, then... then you don’t deserve to keep living like this. Let me take you back with me, I—I can get you the help you need and we can relocate you.”

“Relocate?” the tiny repeated. What was he going on about?

“I-If you just let me take you outside, we can get you some food and water and I can talk to my General about finding you a new home.”

“You mean... you mean leave Terronia?”

Rex suppressed a smile. That was the most optimistic they sounded thus far. “Yeah, kid. We can getcha far away from this rock. If that’s what you want, of course. Once the mission’s over and we leave, we’re probably never comin’ back.”

The tiny sat in silence, eyes darting around rapidly as they tried to piece together what Rex was saying. If he could really get me out of here...

“You’d... really help me?” they asked, still skeptical.

Rex sniffed a laugh and slowly brought his hand to the front of the cage, laying his palm open. The tiny just stared at it.

“I—I dunno...” They were looking at his hand like it was a ticking time bomb. “I—I��ve never...” they trailed off. Rex was pretty sure he knew what they were trying to say.

“It’s safe, I promise. I’ll go slow.”

After a moment of contemplation, the tiny slowly rose to their feet. Rex tried not to stare as they hobbled their way to the front of the cage. They almost looked like a kaadu that was just learning to walk.

The tiny stopped right at the foot of his palm. Rex’s hand came up just below their waist. With a clenched jaw, the tiny looked up at Rex, finally taking in the giant for the first time. He wore a soft, expectant expression, and his eyes shone as he watched every little movement of theirs.

His muscles involuntarily flinched when the tiny swung their leg up, but he was able to keep still as they situated themself in the middle of his palm. They awkwardly crawled to the center and sat down cross-legged, nervously eyeing the fingers that were as tall as they were.

“Okay, I’m gonna move...” Rex warned, giving them one last look before taking his blasters in his free hand and standing up. The tiny wobbled a bit, but otherwise seemed okay.

“Feeling alright?” Rex asked. The tiny nodded, looking around at their new view. They had never been this high up before. Given the situation, it was terrifying, but there was something exhilarating about it. Almost... fun. Adventurous. They found themself peering over the edges of Rex’s hand, soaking in the scenery that once looked impossibly huge and distant. They hadn’t felt this way in years.

Rex couldn’t help but smirk. Even if it was just for a moment, as he thoroughly killed the mood by starting to walk, the tiny wasn’t scared. They even seemed excited. It was adorable.

Rex pushed past the burnt brown cloth that acted as a door. He kept his hand close to his chest, trying to stay conscious of the featherweight in his hand as he slowly strolled through the camp he had helped set up. Several tents were pitched, with food, water, blankets and other supplied piled up in boxes. The villagers chatted between sips of tea and bites of ration bars. It was almost hard to believe they had treated this poor tiny so harshly.

“Captain!”

Rex’s stomach dropped. He has almost forgot about the rest of his squad. How was he going to explain this?

“Rex! There you are! I thought we’d lost ya— oh.” It didn’t take long for Fives to notice the tiny being sitting in Rex’s palm. They were now clinging onto his thumb for support, staring up at Fives with a renewed sense of fear.

Fives dared to speak. “Captain?”

“I found them in one of the huts. They... aren’t really welcome here, so I’m taking them to the General to see if we can help them relocate.”

“I see...” Try as he might, Fives couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tiny. He crouched down.

“Hey there,” he said softly, immediately taking notice of the way they winced when he got near. “I’m Fives. Part of the 501st. What’s your name?”

The tiny stared back, frozen. Above them, Rex cleared his throat.

“They... aren’t much of a talker.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright,” Fives smiled, trying to show them he was friendly. “Lucky we found you, huh? Who knows what would’ve happened if Rex here didn’t—”

“Fives.”

“Right. Sorry. You’re in good hands with Rex, kid. Literally.” He cracked another smile. “He’s our best. He’ll take good care of ya until we can get you somewhere safe.”

“I think you should go help Echo get the rest of the rations off the ship,” Rex pressed. He was surprised how well he could feel the tiny’s tremors through his glove.

“Yes, sir,” Fives said, holding his gaze to the tiny for a few more seconds before standing back up to his full height. The tiny’s heart skipped a beat. “See ya later, tiny!”

The tiny blinked as Fives bounded off somewhere. “Bye,” they whispered weakly.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Rex blushed. “A lot of my men are like that. But don’t mind them. They’re totally harmless. They’re just... curious, is all.”

The tiny nodded as Rex continued along. Luckily, they weren’t bothered by any more clones, but the villagers quickly noticed what Rex was carrying. He gave stern glances at each villager that looked almost disgusted that Rex was helping the tiny.

“That’s just awful,” Rex muttered, almost forgetting the tiny could hear him. He craned his neck down. “How could they treat you like that?”

They just shrugged. “‘Cause I’m tiny.”

Rex humphed. He wasn’t sure how inclined he felt to help out the Terronians anymore.

Suddenly, the unmistakable voice of Anakin pierced the busy air. “Rex! Where have you been? You were supposed to check in at 0500.”

“Sorry, General. I... I got a bit sidetracked.” Sheepishly, Rex held out his hand to reveal the once again terrified tiny to Anakin. The Jedi nearly did a double take.

“Rex? What... who is this?”

“This is... ah, I found them in one of the huts. They were stuck in this cage, so I helped ‘em out.”

“A cage?” Anakin was beside himself. He had seen tinies in his childhood, but none since he left Tattooine. He had almost forgotten how he used to try and befriend every single tiny that hung decoratively in Watto’s shop. “What would droids want with a tiny?”

“They didn’t,” Rex said, and that was all Anakin needed to hear to understand what was going on. Anakin’s expression briefly turned dark before he remembered the tiny’s trembling eyes were on him. He softened as he too crouched down, trying to offer a reassuring smile. The tiny could barely breathe. This was a Jedi!

“Hey, lil guy, I know it’s gotta be scary for you right now, but trust me when I say we’ll take good care of you. No more cages. We’ll keep you safe, alright?”

The tiny nodded almost robotically. Their open mouth only produced whimpers and gasps as Anakin stared right through them.

“We can work on that,” he quipped warmly. He could sense their fear so strongly he almost started to feel it too. The poor thing looked minuscule in Rex’s hand, surrounded by ships and tents and giants. “Are you okay with Rex? Or do you want someone else to help?”

The tiny was surprised. Someone was really asking them what they wanted? And a Jedi no less. Everyone seemed to want to help. Maybe this wasn’t a trick...

“I like Rex,” the tiny whispered, so softly that Anakin could barely pick it up.

“You like Rex?” Anakin said again, grinning up at the now-red-faced captain. The tiny nodded meekly. “Well, then I’ll let him help you get settled.” He stood up slowly. “Why don’t you head back to the ship a bit early? And take some extra rations with you. Something tells me you’ll need it,” Anakin winked, savoring the look of pleasant surprise on Rex’s face.

It took Rex a moment to break out of his daze. “You ever been on a ship before?” he asked, though he already could guess the answer. The tiny shook their head. “It might be a little nauseating, but the feeling goes away quickly. For some more than others,” he added under his breath. At this, the tiny chuckled. They almost couldn’t believe their luck.

“Thank you, Rex.”

Rex looked down, locking eyes with the tiny. They weren’t shaking so much anymore.

“Don’t mention it, kiddo. We’re here to help.”

“Caro.”

“What?”

“Caro. My name’s Caro Kann,” they said, taking a sudden interest in their shoes. “It’s... been a while since anyone’s asked for my name.”

“Oh,” was all Rex could say for a moment. There was a lot more to this tiny than he thought. Whatever questions he had, though, they could wait. “I’m glad you felt like you could finally tell me your name.”

Caro didn’t respond, but they didn’t need to. Instead of hugging themselves tensely, their shoulders had relaxed as Rex made his way to the gunship. Whatever was about to happen was going to be scary, overwhelming, and difficult to deal with. That much Caro knew. But it wasn’t very daunting, really. Not anymore.

“Ready, Caro?” Rex asked, pulling his hand up a bit as the gunship doors slid open. “You’ll need to hold on tight.”

Caro nodded and scooted over to Rex’s thumb, where they clung on tightly. Rex curled his fingers in, giving Caro a sort of roof protecting them from the noise and wind. Rex’s other hand was stretched high above, but he had moved the hand holding Caro close to his chest. Caro lurched forward as the gunship took to the air, but they weren’t worried.

They knew Rex was someone they could trust.

#i’ve had a rollercoaster week and all i’ve been thinking about is mindless fluff #so this is what you’re gonna get #i love rex’s most endearing quality being like. he just seems like a good guy #also not me naming a character after a chess opening because i think the name sounds star wars-y LOL #anyway sorry this took literal months to get to #i’m working on it #star wars g/t #obwrites

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fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

The daring date

This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy some long overdue Allen60!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60

Allen sat in his office, absent-mindedly staring through the blinds. It has been a week now and still he hadn’t gotten used to the new face in the force. The new familiar face. A RK800 unit, dubbed Sixty not to confuse him with his exact twin in the building next door. To be honest, the SWAT Captain had no idea what to think of the android. Normally he would at least try to keep his prejudices against them at bay. They were people now and Allen had no problems accepting the fact once he had spoken to a few of them. But this specific one… He simply didn’t trust him and still searched for reasons to get him out of his team.

The official file for the bot was spotless. But of course, rumours had spread still and being part of the raid on Cyberlife tower, the SWAT team could confirm them. Sixty had threatened Lieutenant Anderson and would have without doubt killed him, had the android not been shot himself. Right in the middle of his forehead. He was supposed to be dead - every human would be. But no, he was repaired and deviated and thrown into society. Deviancy was supposed to be the wondrous medicine to every wrong an android could possibly commit. But Allen wasn’t so sure when androids had had a certain programmed freedom even before deviation and this specific android had still decided to shoot Hank when there must have been other possibilities to fulfil his mission. And who said androids weren’t capable of committing crimes, just like humans? Who said that Sixty, just because he deviated, wasn’t still loyal to Amanda or a certain belief? And now he was infiltrating SWAT, possibly trying to gain their trust just to betray them later. He knew he had no evidence for his theory, but his gut had proven themselves to be correct almost every time, so Allen would keep an eye on the new android. Who knew, maybe-

‘Captain?’ He looked up to the door, where Frank had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Without knocking, as always. ‘Err… Yes?’ ‘You joining game night this evening?’ ‘Whose turn is it?’, he asked caught off guard. ‘Jensen’s! I think he decided on starting with poker, but I haven’t asked.’ ‘Yeah, I’m in. I think I can manage 7pm.’ ‘Great! I’ll let him know.’

Allen sighed, as soon as he was alone in his office again and decided to try and do some actual work today. In all his paranoia about the new android, he had almost forgotten it was the last Friday of the month – game night. He usually enjoyed them. It was one of these team-building exercises that actually worked as it wasn’t obligatory. Although normally most attended them. The SWAT team really was a team, working atmosphere good enough pulling rank wasn’t necessary most of the time. Allen really hoped the android wasn’t invited. But he guessed not. As in many other points, his team was pretty uniformly suspicious of the RK800 too.

It was raining as he parked his car in front of Jensen’s house later that evening. He was a bit late as it seemed, but he was greeted with enthusiasm nonetheless and a coke was pushed into his hand. Most others were already sitting at the table with beer and other beverages and someone hastily gave Allen his seat and poker chips as he was clearly loosing already. A few pleasant hours and rounds later that was a thing of the past as most of the other players were too drunk to remember the rules or keep up a pokerface. Allen had already driven quite a few into surrender and at some point, as if on a hidden signal, they decided to stop playing. What unfortunately meant they settled on the incredibly uncreative idea to play truth or dare.

Allen sighed, regretting his decision to stay sober tonight, but played along. It could still be fun after all. It started quite simple with everyday questions and mostly silly chores to do on dare. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way. ‘Are you single?’, was the first question in the truth-category, Allen sighed deeply over. ‘Why? Are you searching for someone?’, he returned hoping to embarrass the man and be able to skip answering. The other’s laughed, but the one that had asked him just shrugged. ‘Yes, actually, but you’re not my type, no offense there.’ It continued on and Allen felt relatively save, having passed the first awkward question. When it was his turn again, he groaned and demanded “truth” again. He could live with his team knowing intimate details about him. He didn’t like giving them blackmailing material in the form of videos or pictures of him doing something ridiculous though.

Unfortunately, his team had other plans: ‘Come on, you picked that so often already. Choose dare, come on. Would be unfair!’ He rolled his eyes, but caved in quickly as others joined the chorus. ‘Fine. Dare.’ ‘Oh, I actually didn’t think you would allow us’, the other chuckled. ‘I have nothing. You got something guys?’ Oh no. Everyone talked over each other, but it was one, Allen would have guessed Jensen himself, who screamed louder than everyone else: ‘Go on a date with the new android!’ It went dead quiet immediately, but soon they were laughing at Allen’s shocked expression. ‘No. No way!’, he protested, but the rest of his team instantly shook their heads. ‘You have to now! No going back on that!’ ‘I… Fuck, fine, I will ask him on a date, you lunatics. But that’s it, if he says no, that’s out of my hands.’ ‘Deal.’

Monday came far too soon, and Allen sat in his office once again, watching the android. He swore then and there to never attend another game night ever again. But well, better to get this over soon else they would bug him for weeks. He guessed the chance of the android agreeing was close to zero anyways. The whole week he had never seen him near any other member of SWAT if it wasn’t needed for work and seldomly speaking more than strictly necessary with his colleagues. He would just go there, ask him and then the android would decline and go on with his business. Simple as that.

He approached Sixty’s desk and the android immediately looked up, seemingly preparing to stand up. Allen gestured to remain seated and he relaxed but nodded at him in greeting. ‘Captain. Anything I can do for you?’ His voice eerily sounded like Connor’s, maybe with a little less intonation. ‘Err… yeah, weird question maybe, but are you free tonight?’ God, this was embarrassing. ‘Oh. Sure. Planning a mission?’ ‘Uhm… No, actually it’s rather personal.’ ‘Personal?’ ‘Dinner?’ ‘Oh’, the android blinked, face unmoving. ‘Sure, what time?’ Fuck. Allen had not expected the android to actually agree. Shit. That was bad. ‘At seven?’ ‘Fine with me. Where?’ ‘Err… I’ll send you the address.’ ‘Okay. Looking forward to it.’

Allen turned around and grimaced as soon as he was out of sight of the android. He glared at Jensen who was barely containing his laughter and entered his office to remain there for the rest of the day. Fuck, now he had to come up with a place to go on a date with the murder bot.

He drove up to the sole restaurant in all of Detroit that served both android and human food. He had been lucky to get a table for today. He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, but well, worst case he would have to be here for a few hours and call it done. He saw the android already waiting at the entrance and tried to at least fake the polite smile. ‘Hello, Sixty.’ ‘Hello, Captain.’ ‘Err… Allen’s fine’, he commented. Shit, even his team didn’t call him Captain unless outsiders were around, or it was a work issue. ‘We’re not at work after all.’ ‘Okay, then hello Mr. Allen.’ ‘Uh, yeah, okay, let’s go in.’ Awkward.

They entered and were shown their table. The waiter spared them any more small talk, taking their orders for drinks and handing them the menus. A few minutes passed as they both chose their food, but after that they had to wait again until the waiter would come back. And the silence that caused was as uncomfortable as it could get. ‘So…’, Sixty spoke up in the end. ‘What exactly is this?’ Allen’s shoulders sagged a little. ‘Do you want the honest truth?’, he sighed in defeat. The android nodded, and Allen answered: ‘We played truth or dare. They dared me to ask you on a “date”.’ The android huffed with a humorless smile. ‘Well, it’s nice being a part of something I guess, even if it means being part of a joke.’ Allen frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Okay, here are your drinks, what can I get you?’ Allen flinched, he hadn’t even noticed the waiter appearing. Sixty wasn’t as bothered, ordering for himself and Allen caught himself to follow short. Once the man was gone again, the android sat up. ‘I mean that I know you and your team could do well without me.’ ‘That obvious, huh?’, Allen asked, embarrassed about their sentiment being this obvious. ‘I mean, In the last week I barely spoke to anyone and no one even approached me.’ Sixty shrugged. ‘But that’s fine, I get you are close with each other, going on dangerous missions. I guessed as much as I got assigned the job. I hope I can prove my worth to you in action.’

‘I’m sorry’, Allen mumbled in all honesty. ‘It’s just…’ Sixty waited for him to continue, but nothing came. ‘Just what?’ ‘It’s hard to trust you when all we know about you is that you held our colleague at gunpoint and the only thing keeping you from pulling the trigger was getting shot.’ The android smirked. ‘Yeah, I get that. I could explain to you how I was under Amanda’s full control that time, being ordered to stop Connor by any means necessary, or be permanently deactivated myself. But I guess it wouldn’t change a thing, am I right?’

He smiled sadly at Allen, who couldn’t help but feel like a total asshole. ‘Sorry.’ ‘It’s fine, really’, Sixty reassured him. ‘I guess it just needs time of us working together for you and your team to realise I won’t suddenly go full terminator on you.’ ‘So you were forced to nearly shoot Hank?’ ‘I mean, I was forced to end the revolution or die. I had to stop Connor for that. And Lieutenant Anderson was his weakness. His partner and only emotional support in this world. I guess if you ask if I was forced to kill him, then no, I wasn’t. But it really is a question of how far you are willing to go to protect your own life when you have only lived for a few hours at that point and don’t know what that even means yet.’ Allen stared at the tablecloth, trying to process what he’d just heard. ‘I don’t plan on holding the Lieutenant at gunpoint ever again, if that means anything’, Sixty carefully stated then. ‘Or put my own life about anyone else’s for that matter. I’ve learned my lesson staying with New Jericho, listening to all these android’s life stories and learning what life could eventually be.’

Allen looked up into the android’s eyes, realising to what extend he had misjudged him. ‘What made you chose police work then?’, he asked with honest interest. ‘Honestly? It was a heat of the moment decision. The DPD was hiring and I knew Connor worked with them. I thought maybe that would make it easier for me. Following my initial purpose and living with people that accepted him despite his crimes.’ ‘Crimes?’ ‘Well, he was a spy for Cyberlife initially before he switched sides. And he did kill at least two humans at Cyberlife tower. If you think about it, he actually did worse things than I have. But maybe I misjudged that.’

The waiter reappeared with their food, giving Allen time to make a decision. ‘I will talk with my team’, he stated as he had disappeared again. ‘I believe we all fell for prejudice here. I’ll tell them to give you a chance.’ Sixty eyed him lifting a brow. ‘Captain, do you really think this is necessary?’ ‘Yes, I think so. I don’t think you should be held accountable for something you couldn’t control.’ ‘I…’ The android looked at what looked like blue pudding in front of him. ‘Thank you, Captain. That really means a lot to me.’

They began eating mostly to play down the serious talk, but the silence really didn’t help making the whole thing feel less awkward and unnatural. Allen thought about what to talk about with someone he basically knew nothing about, but only one thing came to his mind. He tried to find something more fitting, but ultimately, everything was better than the silence. So, he spoke up again: ‘Okay, let’s stop talking about work for a while. Let’s talk about you, if you want, of course. What do you like? Any hobbies?’ That seemed to catch the android off guard. ‘I like… music?’ ‘Really? What kind of music? Favourite genre?’ ‘Err… No. I haven’t listened to a lot yet. Any recommendations?’ Allen chuckled, knowing this was a dangerous question as he liked to ramble. ‘Oh, were to start? I have a whole list…’ ‘Just give me a song, I will listen to it.’ ‘Right now?’

Sixty tapped his temple. ‘Android, remember? Can listen to it in my head.’ ‘Okay, not how you are supposed to hear music, but fine.’ He continued to list off a few of his favourite songs and stopped after he thought to have supplied the android with the essentials for now. Then he continued to eat, coughing when Sixty spoke up again: ‘Okay, I listened to them.’ ‘What?’ ‘I can listen to them simultaneously. I liked them.’ Allen stared at him. ‘Okay, that really isn’t how you listen to music.’ ‘Then teach me: How do humans listen to music?’ ‘One song at a time?’, Allen begun, not having imagined to ever need to explain that. ‘And normally coming from a speaker.’ ‘Inefficient’, Sixty commented. ‘But-‘ ‘If you hear one song at a time, you will never have listened to all of them in your whole lifetime.’ ‘I mean, it’s true, but-‘ ‘And you never get to see the similarities in between them. Analysing all the small changes in frequencies and subtle differences in between genres.’ Allen sat there staring. ‘Okay, I think we enjoy music on a very different level then.’ Sixty laughed. ‘I guess so, yes. But humans are inefficient at most tasks, so I don’t blame you.’ ‘Thank you?’, the SWAT Captain tried, but couldn’t help but smile too. ‘Okay then, what else are androids so much better at?’ Sixty smirked. ‘I have a list. It’s alphabetised.’

The evening was actually quite fun after its initial difficulties. Sixty just seemed to need a jump start to get over his hesitant demeaner. Once they had initiated their personal talk, he ended up unveiling he was actually a quite cocky person, sure of himself and almost stubbornly ambitious. But despite that, he really seemed to care for others, wanting to use his strong suits to help those that needed it. Somehow, despite Allen’s previous impression of the android, he ended up liking him and wanting to get to know him better than possible in one evening.

Unfortunately, that very evening was about to end as it got late and already was dark outside. They paid for their respective meal, although Allen jokingly stated his co-workers had specifically asked him to take him on a date. Sixty just laughed and told him they wouldn’t have to know every detail. As they exited the restaurant, the android turned to him before entering the automated taxi he had called. ‘And? Enjoyed your dare?’ Allen huffed. ‘Actually, I did. Obviously, this wasn’t a date, but it was nice getting to know you. I’m looking forward to work with you and… Well, if you want to do something like this again, I would be up for it.’ ‘Really?’, the android asked. ‘I made it to the second date?’ Allen closed his eyes and sighed somehow not knowing what he had expected. ‘Be careful what you wish for, I don’t want to know what they decide to task me with next games night.’ Sixty smirked and opened the door of the taxi. ‘Maybe next time I will be there to decide myself.’ He winked at the Captain and entered the car, leaving Allen standing in front of the restaurant confused. But somehow intrigued, too.

#detroit become human #dbh #Allen60 #Captain Allen #RK800-60 #Sixty #Sixty walking up to the dude who dared Allen: Am I a joke to you?#The anon said Allen has fun I said Allen has to listen to traumatised android backstory #I can't write fluff without angst I guess #but they have fun too I think #Sixty listening to like 40 songs at the same time #Ahhh human music - I like it

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czestmememoir · 4 years

Text

First Impression – Rafe Adler x F! You – SMUT!

Smut warning!

I know I don’t post much here, but yeah! here’s some U4 trash <3. idea is originally by a friend, destiny! hello bb

warning: graphic language, random treasure hunting hookups (??), just a lil filth.

Summary:

You get to keep Avery’s Treasure.

In one condition.

"This is it!"

You gleamed at the ship in front of you. "Oh my God. This is amazing." You say, tucking your gun back in your holster. "Welp. Here goes nothing." you say, doing a few stretches before taking jumping in the water. It was cold, and you reach for the surface, taking a deep breath. "Holy fuck. This is- This is fucking cold." You murmur as you started swimming towards the ship, which was farther than you thought.

"Avery, here I come," You thought to yourself. Soon, you were floating in front of the ship. It was much bigger up close, and you started climbing. "The shit I do for treasure. This is for you, Grandpa." You whisper, getting on board on the ship. You open the door, and you could almost drool at how fucking amazing the whole thing looked. Filled with gold coins, and things you didn't even know existed, and much better, it was made in gold. You picked up a gold coin, tossing it and toying with it in your hand. "Now how the hell do I loot this?" You say to yourself, and you feel your eyes roll when you hear a gun click and feel a gun against your head.

"You don't."

You put the coin in your bra, before raising your hands, slowly turning around to see who was the dickhead pointing a gun at you. It was a man, obviously, around the same as you, and he wore a dark grey shirt that sculpted his gorgeous body. And clearly, he also swam to the ship, based on his soaked clothes and hair. "And who the hell are you?" You asked, sneakily checking him out. "That's none of your business, lady." he said. "It is my business, you fucking cocksucker. You're holding me at gunpoint," You hiss, and the hot man glared at you with daggers.

"Only if you tell your name first." He said, and you rolled your eyes. "Ladies first, am I right?" he adds, and you chuckle at him. "Chivalry's dead, mister. But I’ll play along. I'm F/N." You said. "Now, listen, F/N. I've spent my whole life trying to get Avery's Treasure." he started speaking. "And what makes me any different?" you raise a brow. "My grandfather has been on this treasure before I was born. I'm just carrying on his footsteps." you said. Before this dickhead could even react, you grabbed his arm, pointing the gun away from you, and shots were fired. You knee him onto the stomach, and more shots were fired, and you give him a strong punch on the jaw. Finally disarming him, you throw the gun away, and you doubt he'd find it in the treasure stash.

You grabbed your gun, putting it onto his chest. "Your name, asshole." You hissed, and the man laughs, letting the blood drip down from his nose.

"Rafe. My name's Rafe."

You furrow your brows. Haven't you heard of this guy from somewhere? You brush it off. "And also, that gun cost a lot. It’s customized. I had my own engravements." he said. "Shut up, Rafe. I don’t care, and I’m doing this not just for me, but for my grandfather. Avery's treasure is mine. Unless you wanna get shot, be my guest." Rafe could only laugh. "Alright. Well, how the hell are you gonna loot this then, genius? Pack it all up with one hand? The other pointing a gun at my chest?" Rafe says, and you look at him with feint realization.

"Ah, yes. I should be pointing it here." You said, pointing the gun on his head. Rafe looks startled. "Let's be clear here, Mr. Rafe. I'm gonna get this treasure, so suck it up." you hiss, jabbing the barrel lightly on his forehead. "Let me propose a deal, F/N." Rafe spoke. "Can't lie, you're such a pretty face." he adds, and you roll your eyes. "Oh, you flatter me, Rafe." You said. "Are you done? Is this your way out? Flirting?" you said, resting a foot on his chest, and resting your elbow on your knee.

"Whoever makes the other one cum three times gets the treasure." Rafe said, and you look at him with surprise, before laughing. Rafe watches you in amusement as you continued to laugh at how fucking ridiculous his deal was, pulling away the gun from him, and if you weren't so busy laughing, you'd see relief wash over Rafe's face.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rafe." You said. "That's so- this is so fucking funny," You say. "You're telling me, three orgasms have the same worth of this gold?" you ask, before laughing again. You looked at his face, searching for any ounce of playfulness. Nothing. Your laughter dies down, and you purse your lips.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

Rafe grinned. "Nope. Besides, I'm a man of my word. I can make you cum, sweetheart." Rafe purred. You laugh. "That's what they all say." You said, watching him sit up. “Wait, are you clean, though?” you asked. “Do you think I have the hygiene of a peasant, F/N? Yes, I’m clean. Are you?” Rafe raises a brow at you. “I’m clean because I don’t fuck on the first date,” you hissed. Rafe laughed. “I’ll make it worth your while,” Rafe cooed, and you usually didn’t easily give in to flirtatious tones, but Rafe was different. His voice was so amazing and smooth. It felt so hypnotic you fucking loved it. “Do we have a deal?" Rafe asked, and you lick your lips.

“Fine,”

It's not like he was any different from your other partners, right?

Right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

As soon as your lips touched, you knew you were doomed. His whole being screamed dominance. Territorial. Which was definitely 100% your type. Pinning you against a wall, Rafe holds your hand, and you immediately pull away when you felt him trying to disarm you. "What the hell?" You raise a brow. Rafe groans. "Look, I'm not exactly comfortable fucking someone with a gun pointed at me." Rafe says, and you scoff. "You ever try anything, I'll smash your face, bitch boy." You hissed, and Rafe rolled his eyes. You throw your gun somewhere and Rafe starts kissing your exposed neck, his hands caressing your hips to your ass, giving them a firm squeeze.

"See? I'm not gonna hurt you,"

Rafe whispered against the spot under your ear, and- Oh my God, did he just leave a hickey? Fucking hell. You thought, feeling him suck and bite on it. Your hands trail down, one staying on his fit chest, and the other lightly stroking him through his pants. Rafe kisses your jawline, then gives your lips a gentle peck.

“Take the lead, babygirl,”

You push Rafe off you, and you got down to your knees, kicking away a few stray gold coins that hurt your knees. “Eager to suck my dick, sweetheart?” Rafe asked, unbuckling his belt. You looked up and raised your middle finger at him, causing him to laugh as he unbuttoned his pants. And as soon as it fell down to the ground, your hands make their way to his thighs, and his cock was nicely outlined on his expensive-looking boxers. Rafe kicks off his shoes, a dull thump resonating in the room. “What’cha waiting for? Need a little help?” Rafe asked. You sighed and pulled down his boxers, his cock proudly springing up. “Well?” Rafe yanks your hair, forcing you to look up at him. You open your mouth, and Rafe shoves his cock down your throat. You could gag, but Rafe started moving his hips.

“Fuck. Your mouth, holy shit,” Rafe whispered, his mouth agape as he continued fucking your mouth. You’d make a gagging sound every now and then, but not that both of you minded. Rafe very much adored those pretty eyes that looked up at him as you took his cock so nicely, your other hand groping his balls and earning a cry from him.

You pull away, and spit on the tip, before pumping it nicely in your hand. “You’re so vocal.” You teased. “Don’t care.” Rafe groaned, his hips bucking against your hand. You rub his tip, and Rafe lets out an amazing loud moan, and you put his cock back in your mouth, letting out a soft hum and shutting your eyes as you enjoyed his taste. “Fuck, F/N.” Rafe cried out, his grip on your hair getting tighter as he started to move your head to the pace of his liking.

The way you bat your eyelashes at him had his knees almost wobbling. You looked so pretty sucking his cock, and Rafe knew deep down you were now his new infuriation. “That’s it, baby. Fucking take it,” Rafe growled, tugging on your hair. You could only let out a muffled cry, sparks of arousal shooting through you. He buries his cock deep in your throat, and he lets out a guttural moan when he felt you gag. “Too big?” Rafe asked, looking down at you. You shut your eyes, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me while I fuck that pathetic mouth of yours,”

Rafe says, lightly slapping your cheek, and you grunt, opening them, and tears streamed down your cheeks. He held your hair tightly, mercilessly pummeling his thick cock in and out of your mouth. Saliva leaks from the sides, and your hands held onto his built thick thighs, raking your nails onto the skin.

“Oh, shit!”

Rafe moaned, throwing his head back as he fucked your mouth. You only hum and let him manhandle you, and as much as Rafe didn’t want to admit it, he was definitely gonna cum. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart.” Rafe hissed, biting his lip. His cock twitches in your mouth, and he sheathes his cock deep inside your throat, and you groaned, gagging. “I’m gonna fucking cum in that mouth of yours,” Rafe whispered before giving your mouth a harsh thrust, burying himself deep inside you. You cry out when you felt his cum spill in your throat, forcing you to swallow.

He pants, his cock still in your mouth, and you pinch his thigh, and he grunts, pulling out. “You came a lot.” You said, wiping the saliva off the sides of your mouth. “Shut up. Lay down.” Rafe said, pointing to the floor. “Bossy,” You said, before laying down. Rafe hovers over you, and you cup his cheek and kiss him. Surprisingly, he kisses back. Not caring if your tongue had remnants of his cum. You pull away, staring at his eyes, and then his lips.

“What is it?” Rafe asked. You lean in and kiss him again. You’ve never met someone you wanted to kiss badly. Rafe wraps his arms around you, kissing you back feverishly. Trying to pull him closer, you wrap your arms around his neck, messing up his hair. The two of you laid there, making out and savoring each other’s lips until you two were breathless.

“You’re a great kisser,” Rafe whispered. You smiled. Rafe’s hands started working on the zipper of your pants. “So kiss me again,” you pout. “Later,” Rafe said, pulling down your pants, and you kick off your shoes so Rafe could take it off your body, taking the underwear along. Your wet cunt was exposed to him, and Rafe ran his thumb on your clit, eliciting a light squeak from you. “When was the last time someone touched you, babygirl?” Rafe asked, his other fingers prodding at your soaking slit. “Long time ago,” you murmur.

“No one has ever made you feel this good before?” Rafe asked, teasing your entrance. You shake your head, and Rafe shoves a finger in you. You let out a surprised moan, clenching your fists. “Oh, my poor girl. What kinda losers have you been seeing?” Rafe asked, shoving another finger in you, and you moaned as Rafe started moving his fingers. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cried out. “Go faster. Please, please,” you plea, and Rafe complies, mercilessly fucking your pretty pussy with his fingers. “Fuck, look at you.” Rafe says, watching your pleasant expressions as he kept moving his fingers. “Oh, fuck, Rafe!” you moaned out, your walls nicely clenching on him. It was so hot hearing the wet sounds that came from your cunt, and Rafe enjoyed how much you coated your fingers with your slick.

“Rafe, go harder. I won’t break. Go hard, pretty please?” you whine. Rafe doesn’t say another word, fucking you hard and fast with his fingers. You whimpered, and your legs were trembling at how hard his fingers pumped in your pretty, soaking pussy.

Rafe curls his fingers up, making sure to press up against the spot that sent your nerves to a frenzy, and your moans could definitely be heard from outside.

“Right here?” Rafe asked, and you nod vigorously. “You gonna cum?” Rafe asked, and your mind goes back to Avery’s treasure. But you were so close. Your body ached and craved for that sweet release. It felt so intense and it was coming in quick. “Oh, fuck, Rafe. Please. I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!” You screamed, and Rafe hits your sweet spots over and over. Your roll your eyes and let your head throw back as moans left from your lips. “Cum for me, F/N.” Rafe said, and you did. Much stronger than your usual ones. You screamed, arching your back and your whole body gets washed with bliss.

“Oh, fuck. You squirted on me, F/N,” Rafe chuckled, and you groaned, your body falling limp on the floor. “Fuck.” Was the only thing you said while you were gasping. Rafe pulls his fingers out, dripping with your cum. “Let me- can I- take a breather?” you asked, and you immediately know your answer when Rafe leaned down, delving into your sweet cunt as his tongue started lapping you up.

“Rafe-!” you groaned, feeling your sensitive clit pulsate against his tongue. He pulls away briefly, looking up at you with a smug grin on his face. “Relax,” Rafe said. You rolled your eyes as you held onto Rafe’s hair, tugging on it and pulling it tight, but it didn’t matter. Rafe savored you. You tasted just as how good you looked, and he was definitely not going to let an opportunity like this to miss. “Rafe, oh my fucking God!” you whimpered, your hips twitching against his goddamned tongue. Your mouth was agape and you could only moan and scream his name. Rafe looks up at you, seeing your fucked out daze, and you haven’t even taken his cock yet. Rafe held your legs open, just making sure to not let you do a chokehold on him with your legs if you ever wanted to.

“Cum for me again, sweetheart,” Rafe whispered, his mouth all over your cunt as his tongue tease your slit. “Oh, fuck! Rafe- fuck you-! I’m gonna fucking cum!” You screamed, shutting your eyes. Rafe could only chuckle, and with another swipe of his tongue you shut your eyes as you uncontrollably came- well, squirted, on his mouth. Rafe made sure to lap you up, letting your mess drip down from his stubbled jaw. He pulls away, and the sight of his face soaking with your cum was quite one of the hottest things you’ve seen.

“That’s not fair,” you hissed. Rafe scoffed. “You’re on the losing side,” Rafe said, and you raise a brow at him. He makes his way back up to you, and you kiss him. Your hands held onto his collar, and you flip your positions, straddling him. His bare cock rubbed against your drenched cunt, and you grind yourself against him.

“I’m waiting,” he hissed, and you held his cock in your hand before slowly pushing it in, and you slide down, and you felt so fucking full of him. “Shit!” You both hissed, giving out shaky breaths as you started rocking your hips. Rafe held onto your waist, moving along with your pace and rhythm. “Rafe, your cock feels so fucking good,” you groaned, clutching on his shirt. “Yeah? Feels so good to be filled with my cock, babygirl?” Rafe asked, one of his hands tugging on your hair and exposing your neck.

Rafe sits up, kissing your neck and leaving more hickeys that were sure going to look questionable tomorrow. “Fuck, F/N. Gonna fucking ruin you,” Rafe whispered, his other hand holding your ass as he moved you back and forth on his cock. “Fuck, Rafe! More,” You cried out. Rafe bites down again on your skin, and you let out a yelp.

He switches positions with you, with you beneath him, and you let out a gasp when Rafe puts your legs on his shoulders. “Rafe-!” “Relax. You’ll be alright,” Rafe says, before leaning in forward. You were almost folded in half, and not gonna lie, it hurt, but you’ve had worse days. Rafe was so fucking deep inside you, and your could just melt when he started moving his hips. “Oh, fuck!” you moaned. “Just like that, Rafe! Please!” you wailed, holding onto his forearm and scratching it with your nails.

“Fuck! You’re so fucking hot,” Rafe whispered, pounding mercilessly on your pretty pussy. “Gonna fuck your pretty cunt until you cum, babygirl,” Rafe said, grabbing your jaw.

“You hear me? I’m gonna make you fucking cum. After this, I’m gonna make you my girl. Gonna make you mine.”

He says all while fucking you. “Yes! Oh, fuck! Rafe!” You cried out, your eyes rolling back as you felt his cock stretch your walls. “Fuck, you feel so good!” you cried out, your legs shaking as your body was in immense pleasure. You clenched on Rafe just nicely, and vice versa. Rafe filled you up so fucking good. You knew you were gonna ask him out later after this stupid treasure expedition. “Rafe, baby, fuck! More, please,” you plead, one of your hands making its way down to your clit as you started rubbing gently.

“Shit!” Rafe hissed, too turned on at the sight. “You like that? Look at how horny you make me, Rafe,” you purr. “I want to- oh fuck! I-I want to see you again. I-I wanna be fucked by you again,” you whisper in his ear. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Rafe cried out, his cock twitching in you. “Fill me up with your cum, Rafe,” you pant out, cupping his cheek. “Please. Wanna feel your cum leak out of me,” you whimpered out, and Rafe’s expressions were priceless. “Fuck! You’re gonna be the death of me,” Rafe whispered, his orgasm coming in quick.

“Pretty please, Rafe? Fill me up. I’m on birth control. I wanna see your cum drip out of my cunt,”

You whimper, and with another snap of his hips, he spilled his cum inside your cunt, a loud moan escaping his lips. “Fuck, Rafe!” you rolled your eyes, his hot seed dribble in you, and Rafe rides his orgasm down with a few thrusts, soft, guttural moans coming from him. “It’s a tiebreaker,” you chuckle, and Rafe laughs. “I’m gonna get that treasure, sweetheart. Just like what I said. I’ll get the treasure and make you my girl,” Rafe purred. “I don’t think so. You haven’t made me cum the third time yet,” you say. Rafe pulls away, and your legs hurt. “And if you win?” Rafe asked, and you laughed, feeling some of his cum drip out from your cunt while he was still in you. “I’ll take you to places you’ve never been in. A cruise, maybe?” and it was Rafe’s turn to laugh.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t explored the world or had a cruise,” Rafe said. “Well, I haven’t… So-“ You were cut off mid-sentence when Rafe starts moving his hips. But something was wrong. There was suddenly a change in atmosphere, and you didn’t like the feeling of it. “Rafe.” You call out. Rafe doesn’t answer, and you held onto his shoulders. “Stop. Rafe.” You held onto him. Rafe stops, seeing the discomfort on your face. “Get up. Something’s wrong.” You said, and Rafe rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong, F/N. Unless you forgot you’re not on birth control,” he said, slipping out of you. Then your suspicion was right. You heard voices, many different ones.

“Search the area! If you see F/N, kill her!”

Oh shit.

“Get dressed!” You whisper to Rafe, who looks at you in disbelief, but gets dressed anyway. “Who’s that? Your husband? You’re married?” Rafe asked, putting on his boxers, and- where are his pants? “No! I’d rather die than marry him! That’s my former partner, Nikolai. And he threw me under the bus last minute when I told him how to get to Avery’s treasure,” you said, getting dressed quickly. You button up your pants, and you grab your gun and holster, and your bag, which you’d almost forgotten existed. “Rafe?” You called, and you hear Rafe searching for his gun, murmuring soft profanities under his breath. “Rafe!” you call again. “Just a fucking second!” Rafe whisper-shouted back. You look cautiously at the door, and Rafe comes back, and you see the customized engravements he was talking about. You hear people climb the ship, and you and Rafe stay close together, trying to quietly avoid Nikolai and/or his men. “You know you can leave me behind, right?” you say to him. Rafe looks at you weirdly.

“I’m not leaving you behind. Or Avery’s treasure. C’mon, we can take ‘em one by one.”

Rafe said. You hear Nikolai’s men walk in, and the two of you exchange glances.

“You still owe me a date, Rafe,”

“And you owe me a cruise, F/N,”

End.

Goodbye I am dead. This is amazing. I love Rafe Adler. Goodnight.

#rafe #rafe adler #rafe adler x reader #rafe x reader #uncharted #uncharted smut #smut #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction

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mustlovemustypages · 4 years

Text

Yuletide 2020 Letter

Dear potential writer,

I truly hope all is well with you and yours. No matter what state you find yourself in, my wish is that Yuletide boosts your spirits and gives you the extra jolt we all could use to usher in the new year.

Thank you for taking the time to read my letter and thank you in advance if you decide to write anything for me!

Below are my desired fandoms and pairings along with story ideas that I would love to see written. Please don’t feel stifled by my prompts; I’ve also listed my general likes and dislikes at the very bottom of this letter if you decide to go a different route.

Little Women (2019):

Characters: Amy March and Theodore “Laurie” Laurence”

The main reason I adore this adaptation is because it made me see why Amy and Laurie ended up together. They had very similar worldviews and fit so well what the other needed. Both deserved to be with someone that valued them for who they are. With Laurie, Amy was not just financially secure but with someone who encouraged her to express herself creatively, politically, or however she chose. With Amy, while she grounded Laurie in reality and challenged him to be the best version of himself, he didn't have to fundamentally change to make her happy.

Story ideas:

These quotes really show how Amy's perspective on life was different than her sister's: "You are your family's hope." (Aunt March) "I’ve always known I would marry rich." (Amy March) That's a lot of pressure on someone so young. We heard some of Laurie's thoughts, mostly that he didn't think Amy should feel ashamed for wanting that. How would some of that pressure continue even after she got married, and what would Laurie say to make her realize they were in life together as a team and she didn’t have to suffer the weight of the world alone?

The conversation between Amy and Laurie in the painting studio showed just how level-headed and intelligent she was. Laurie, while not wholly agreeing, was respectful and didn't discount her thoughts. It would be interesting to see the impact on their story if Vaughn hadn't arrived, and this had played out more. Would the proposal have happened earlier and/or how would later scenes be altered as a result of further conversation?

What did the other characters think of Amy and Laurie's relationship, and how did it change after seeing them interact more as a couple? It would be interesting to read about Meg, Marmee, John, or some of the other characters realizing they were genuinely a good match for each other.

Post-canon, I'd love to get a glimpse of what kinds of conversations they had. Did Amy encourage Laurie to pursue a career and find what he was passionate about (music perhaps as Laurie mentioned writing an opera)? And similarly, did Laurie encourage Amy to pursue her art? Did they continue to have in-depth conversations about societal pressures and expectations of gender in certain economic classes?

Tenet:

Characters: The Protagonist, Kat, and Neil

Tenet is the first movie I've seen in theaters since Star Wars IX. There have been some mixed reviews, but my love for Christopher Nolan sci-fi films combined with the experience of stepping foot in a theater again made it a wonderful experience for me. Sure, the plot could be confusing at times, but it was fun trying to fit certain puzzle pieces together and oh so thrilling when things just clicked into place in the most satisfying ways.

I adored the dynamic between Neil and the Protagonist. The easy friendship, the banter, the suits... everything. I also loved the relationship between the Protagonist and Kat. It started off as each using the other but transformed into one of genuine care on both sides. Ever the romantic, I definitely saw something more than just friendship between the two and was slightly disappointed the movie didn't explore that aspect more.

For pairings, I’m interested in friendships between all of the characters. I’d be interested in seeing a romantic relationship between Kat and the Protagonist if you’re up for that, but not between Neil and Kat, nor Neil and the Protagonist. If you really want to give a romantic partner to Neil, I'd be fine with Laura (or an original female character if she’s not the focus of the story), but please, no slash. While I’d be ecstatic to see all three characters together, if you can only find a way to fit in two, that’s wonderful as well!

Story ideas:

Even though Andrei Sator is gone, there are still other players in the game, some like Priya, who want to eliminate Kat or even abduct her with the delusional idea she can continue her husband's work. The Protagonist (and Neil, if you so choose) ensures no harm comes to her, and he realizes that keeping her at a distance may not have been the best idea.

I personally don't buy into the fan theory that Neil is Kat's son Max; however, I do find the idea intriguing and would be up for reading about how that worked. The Protagonist breaks his rule and sees Kat, helping to raise her son Max/Neil and eventually teaching him about inversion.

The Protagonist doesn't have to wait quite as long as he'd thought to see Neil again. It can be the Neil who had already met him and knows about Tenet or the Neil who knows nothing about inversion.

What conversations did Neil and Kat have while the Protagonist was asleep after almost freezing to death? Maybe Neil explained the finer workings of Tenet and inversion more in-depth. Perhaps they discussed the Protagonist.

Clueless:

Characters: Cher Horowitz and Josh Lucas

This movie set the bar high for teen romantic comedies. How can anyone ever beat 90s Alicia Silverstone and Paul Rudd? Plus, the relationship between their two characters is fantastic. Josh and Cher just bring out the best in each other. Cher shows Josh that he doesn't need to be so serious all of the time and that people are more than their outer appearances. Josh makes Cher want to be a better person, and he believes that she's not just a pretty face. Their banter and playful moments always make me smile.

Story ideas:

Knowing Josh and Cher end up together, this brings a heightened awareness to rewatches. They have so many casual touches and exchanged glances (when did Paul Rudd's eyes get so blue?) that it's hard to miss their natural chemistry. It may take quite some time for Cher's dad to notice anything has changed because they don't act all that different from before. Is there something that makes him finally take notice? How does he react?

Sort of related to the last prompt, there's a moment where Josh decides to go to the dance to keep an eye on Cher and Christian, and you can tell by Mel Horowitz’s smirk he realizes Josh has a crush on Cher. Does he do anything to push it along or play matchmaker just like his daughter?

I've always been curious about whether or not Josh believes Cher's story about being assaulted in the car by Elton and then held at gunpoint. We skip over Josh pulling up to the phone booth and go straight to Cher already being in the car. How did Josh react when she reiterated the story, and does he instantly believe her, or does it take some convincing? I'd like to see if he comforts her and if they both go together to tell Cher's dad what happened.

Cher is obviously very intelligent socially, if not always so much academically. When it comes time to apply for college, what does she major in? And how is Josh a positive influence in Cher's life, encouraging her to be ambitious and not letting negative comments from guidance counselors or teachers dissuade her?

Things I don’t like:

Alternate Universes – For the specific fandoms that I picked, I really like the universes as they are. I’m definitely okay with deviations from canon, but please don’t make Little Women into a supernatural werewolf story or have Tenet take place in a mundane coffee shop setting. (I don’t mind Soulmate AUs or something similar because those can be incorporated into canon with little change to worldbuilding).

Non-Con/Rape/BDSM/Sexual Violence/Graphic Sex – I like my characters to be happy and everything within ships to be 100% consensual, no question about it (mentions of non-con if it occurred in canon is fine). I also prefer plot over porn, especially with one-shots.

OT3s – Two people per romantic relationship, please. Any more than that makes me uncomfortable.

Character Bashing - Unless a character is a bad guy in canon, I don’t want to read hundreds of words about how awful they are, especially if they are one of the characters that I requested. Don’t take it out on the characters. If you hate my pairings, just write gen.

Things I love:

Hurt/Comfort – There is nothing I love more than one character comforting another. The hurt can be physical, psychological, or both.

Happy Endings – I’m all for the realistic endings… but if they could be plausible AND at least happy-ish, that would be amazing.

Expanded Scenes/Contorting Canon – Feel free to expand scenes and change up the canon to your heart’s content as long as it makes logical sense.

Humor/Banter/Snark – I thrive on this stuff.

Bonding/Building Relationships – Whether it be a friendship or a romantic relationship, I adore reading about two people growing closer together. When characters know each other so well that they can have conversations with just their eyes or anticipate the person’s next move (especially if it’s to the surprise/confusion of everyone around them), my shipper heart is thrilled.

Dark to Light – Seeing a character come out of a bad mindset or situation and get better is so satisfying.

Happy writing and I hope you get the Yuletide gift of your dreams!

- Maddy @mustlovemustypages (on Tumblr, Ao3, and FF.net)

#little women #little women 2019 #amy x laurie #theodore laurence #laurie #amy march #tenet #the protagonist #neil #kat #clueless #josh x cher #cher horowitz #josh lucas #yuletide 2020 #yuletide letter #yuletide

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

On a quick mission with Jason to deal with pirates in the Caribbean, Bruce finds himself ejected overboard and accidentally lost at sea. Being a castaway gives Bruce ample time to indulge in self-discovery and survivorman-ing, as Jason boats across Pit-green waters in search of this dumb, fine man.

Or, things go incredibly wrong for Bruce and Jason while out at sea, but with help from a dedicated boat captain, The Fellowship Of The Rings, and banana-leaf-pants, they're actually unstoppable.

Written for the @batfam-big-bang, beta’d by @kuraness, @sultcnah, and hassan, with art by @pikachica, @succulents-and-fairy-lights, and @mandolinplayer (thanks everyone)! Special shout-out to @setsailslash for being the wind beneath my wings.

And! Thanks to the mods for organising this massive, chaotic event c:

Please enjoy the first part of a story about a damp and determined Bat and the struggles a a dapper young man’s gotta face to save his dank ass dad 🙏

On tumblr below the cut c:

Pulling a disappearing act is something Bruce should be good at; he’s had years and years of practice by now sinking into the night. Keeping secrets is pretty important in being invisible too, which is why the files outlining the increasingly severe piracy problems in the Caribbean are so heavily encrypted they may as well not exist. After all, at any moment any of his children could be using the Batcomputer to do anything from figuring out how to topple a corrupt government remotely to buying an unreasonable number of chew toys for Ace, and given that they’re all so ridiculously nosy, a security breach is more a question of when rather than if .

Nosiness is a good trait for vigilante detectives, but it makes it hard to work covertly without tipping anyone off. International travel isn’t a good idea for anyone this deep into a pandemic, and while Bruce Wayne being an ass and swanning around the Bahamas in a yacht is pretty believable as far as cover stories go, he’s not keen to subject anyone else to the sort of vitriol that behaviour will garner.

So the plan is simple, with as few moving parts as possible. Three, maybe four days tops being loud and visible on his biggest, ugliest yacht in the hopes that pirates will decide to come after him, and then maybe a couple of days after that to dismantle the bulk of the operation after he’s tracked them back to their base. There’s less of a chance of failure than his usual work, but it still leaves him feeling uneasy.

It’s a long way away from Gotham, and he’s not exactly excited to leave, but his comfort’s not more important than a greater good. The League really does need to sort out a presence for Central America though, and that goes on his notes for the mission too.

So he had planned in secrecy so complete not even Alfred was informed, because Alfred can be notoriously casual in his flagrant betrayal if he disagrees with Bruce’s plans. He’s skulking around the cave at 11 AM on a Tuesday when most of the family is either at work or asleep, and half an hour later he’s climbing into a Beemer, ready to roll out. He has a moment of smug certainty that he’s gotten away with this before the door to the passenger’s side is ripped open, and Jason climbs in with a little battered suitcase, a pair of aviators that reflect metallic blue, a genuinely heinous red wig, and what can only be described as a noxious Hawaiian shirt.

Bruce doesn’t think he’s ever seen a shade of yellow so bright, but it’s now imprinted on the back of his eyeballs, so that’s that.

“Jason, what are you doing?”

Bruce doesn’t even know if he’s referring to Jason’s presence, his outfit, or his hair (oh god, his hair ).

“Tim was supposed to be the one to tail your ass on this mission, but he’s still way too concussed after last week’s fight with Clayface so he got pulled out.” Jason chucks his suitcase to the backseat and pulls his seatbelt on, still fastidious about traffic safety despite it all. “Then Dick wanted to sub in but Blüdhaven needs him more than you do right now. So they called in the big guns to look out for you, and when I get back everyone’s gonna owe me favours. Sounds like a damn good deal for a week of work.”

Favours are a currency way more important than cash within this family, but Bruce struggles to see how a few favours is worth a few days in the company of a man you loathe.

(All right, loathe may be a bit dramatic, but it’s how Bruce feels about himself in reference to Jason, and it’s mind-boggling that a boy can wake up in a coffin and be driven to lunacy by the Pit and still, somehow, end up in this car with him in an ugly shirt and an offer of support).

He decides against asking if Jason’s really going to be all right floating in a sea of green in bad company, and doesn’t make Jason leave. It’s the rule of things; if he fails to out-sneak his children, he must deal with their demands, because it’s the only way he could get them to agree to his more paranoid measures in return.

So Bruce makes an effort not to think about it, in spite of himself, and gets the car in gear.

It really is looking like a damn good deal for a week of work; with good company, how badly can things go wrong?

Karma really wants to make him eat his words.

Years and years on the job, near-death experiences well past a hundred by now, active involvement in everything from petty theft to intergalactic peace missions, and it’s a little incredible that this is somehow the first time he’s been held at gunpoint while wearing the skimpiest pair of Speedos he could force up his thighs.

A billion dollars for a dressing gown, Bruce thinks but very carefully doesn’t say to the pirates who have commandeered the yacht. It’s all part of the plan, minus his questionable outfit.

Whoever’s manning the screens at the Cave is likely having a grand old laugh right now, but if it’s Stephanie he hopes she realises that he is using her trick with waterproof concealer and translucent powder to hide his scars, and it’s working like a charm. The Speedo was meant to feed the paparazzis that are currently stalking him in their little fishing boats that are weighed down with telephoto lenses, and L’Oreal 24 Hour Max Hold Extra Dewy Outlast! Long-Wearing Concealer makes him look happily whole from 40 yards.

He hadn’t expected the pirates to come on the one day he had planned to parade in front of the paps, but luck is a lady and it looks like Bruce just will not be getting lucky tonight.

The leader of the gang is yelling at the captain, clearly assuming Bruce cannot speak Spanish and isn’t worth speaking to regardless, which is fair. The leader is also standing far, far too close for a man without a facemask in these sickly times, and Bruce makes a show of tripping over nothing and landing in between Pirate Captain and Captain Luis, building space in between them. Half a dozen vaccine trials down, he’s as close to confidently immune as he can be, so he just strikes an entirely embarrassing pose and grins up at Mr. Pirate. “Sorry, sorry, not every day you get hijacked. Listen, you,” he waves at the assembled gang of ne’er-do-wells, “take my stuff,” he waves to indicate every gaudy expensive thing not nailed down in this frankly ghastly ship, “and leave us alone, okay?”

It’s tempting fate to be extra loud and extra slow like he’s talking to somebody extra dumb, but eyes on him are eyes off civilians, so that’s what he does.

It’s the point of information-gathering with the entire force of his Bruce Wayne Billionaire Playboy personality after all, even if Jason hasn’t stopped mocking him relentlessly for his outfits and table manners and affect (and so on and so forth) every time he breaks into the Master Cabin to help cover up Bruce’s many, many back scars.

The Pirate Captain appears to not appreciate being spoken to like a concussed toddler, and backhands Bruce right across the cheek. Bruce dutifully sets his tooth in so that he gets a dramatically split lip, and tries to look suitably cowed as he wonders about the man’s hand hygiene. Where is Jason, anyways? The standard response in this situation would be to evacuate civilians to safety, and even if the captain is currently stuck with Bruce, hopefully the stewards and the cooks are being shown to the panic room. It’s only in doubt because it’s a Thursday, and Thursdays are Jimmy-the-steward-boy’s day off. What that means is that Jason is likely in his bunk listening to audiobooks while half-asleep, and if it’s the Lord of the Rings and Jason’s hit a particularly engaging part, they could be firing cannons on deck and he wouldn’t hear.

It’s still fine, probably. Jason’s good at showing up when you least expect him.

There’s enough pride and bull-headedness in Bruce’s veins that he still officially objects to having back-up whenever he follows a case abroad, but times like these it’s really hard to feel anything but grateful that his children don’t trust him not to get himself killed in suitably dramatic ways as soon as he leaves Gotham. It’s even easier to feel glad that he and Jason have gotten good enough with each other that laid up on the ground of his yacht with blood in his mouth, Bruce knows that everything’s going to be alright.

“Please,” he says, and his voice trills like a well-trained bird, “please don’t hurt me. I have so much money, if that’s what you want. Somebody just needs to call my PA, we can do a transfer right now.” Oh, good, the captain is slowly backing away while all eyes are on Bruce and his tiny swimwear.

Thank you, Stephanie, for recommending a concealer that doesn’t even smudge as he dramatically cowers on the ground. The captain’s taken shelter behind the big outdoor dining table, a sturdy, immovable beast made of aluminium, and Bruce has a semi-circle of reasonably menacing men he could potentially incapacitate without definitely dying. Things are looking up already.

Pirate Captain (Pirate King? Pirate Lord? Pirate Admiral? Who knows how a hierarchy works for the lawless, after all) is barking orders for one of his men to handcuff Bruce and move him over to their boat, because this is now a kidnapping-for-ransom situation. In casual dress, Bruce wouldn’t have minded it much; there’s enough untraceable kit in his average pair of slacks to get him out of most situations.

Again, the cursed Speedos are hugely, disproportionately problematic despite their actual size. At least there’s the tracker and the lockpicks in his watch, because thankfully no one questions why a rich man who is mostly nude would be decked out in a fantastically expensive watch.

A gangly boy who can’t possibly be much older than 20 hauls him to his feet and starts to tie his hands behind his back, which is fine. The boy also deftly unbuckles Bruce’s watch and sleight-of-hands it away, presumably into the pocket of his beaten up jeans, and that is decidedly less fine. Still, as long as the tracker remains in his vicinity, it won’t take much effort for him to be found.

Things are still on track, even if they’ve gone off the rails an alarming number of times since he woke up this morning and nicked his face while shaving for the first time in, oh, a decade? More? Hopefully there’ll be a sack or something he can fashion into a tunic on the pirate boat; he doesn’t imagine this entire ordeal will outlast his long-lasting concealer, and given that the yacht’s currently bobbing in the ocean somewhere between Nassau and Port-au-Prince, help’s not far away (so long as Jason has also called the Coast Guard and is not still in his bunk, listening to Gandalf telling an overlong story).

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, until it’s not.

Honestly, Bruce takes worker well-being very seriously, whether it’s the COO of the Hong Kong branch of WE or the tired cab driver who inadvertently helped the Bat on an undercover case at 3:30 AM one morning. Fair pay, fair working conditions, every benefit that’s the industry standard and a few that he secretly encouraged the unions to demand. It’s a point of pride that people who work for him enjoy it, and it’s a way Bruce Wayne can help people in a way that Batman can’t even dream of.

It’s important that people who work for him are treated well; them becoming a little protective over him when some journo gets particularly nasty on Twitter is frankly rather sweet.

It’s significantly Less Okay that when they meet him in real life, ‘a little protective’ becomes ‘Captain Luis, seeing his bumbling dim-witted but ultimately not a bad guy boss getting carted away by pirates, finds strength from deep within himself to pick up a chair, start screaming, and try to bumrush half a dozen heavily armed men’.

Time slows down in times of crisis, thank god. Jason’s still nowhere to be seen, and reality narrows to Bruce running through every possible thing he could conceivably do to keep Luis safe. In the first fraction of a second, a trademark Bruce Wayne clumsy stumble is discarded as an option; two of the pirates already have their guns up. He doesn’t have smoke bombs or stun grenades or any of his million gadgets, and his hands are tied (literally and metaphorically), but playing dumb and letting Luis get shot to preserve his identity doesn’t even feature as an option.

And so, half a second after Luis starts his war cry, cracked voice and all, Bruce is actively working to dislocate his thumb to get out of his bindings, weight tipped forward in the hope that he can body slam half the men to the ground before they can get to their guns.

It doesn’t work; he gets shot in place of Luis, what feels like a clean through-and-through by the hip that hopefully missed anything particularly important. He does manage to bring a couple of the men nearest to him down with a heavy whumph , and little victories are still worth savouring even while lightly bleeding out on the ground.

He hears a lot of shouting, both from the direction of the pirate boat (reinforcements?) and from the grand double doors that lead to the inside dining room (reinforcements!) but he just keeps moving. Best case scenario, Luis knocked somebody out with one of the absolutely hideous chrome-and-leather chairs before beating a hasty retreat, and now Jason’s tag-teaming in for clean up.

Worst case scenario, he and Luis are about to be killed, and the news might be broken to his family by unflattering pap shots gone viral on Facebook. It’s an unbearable thought, so he doesn’t think, and just keeps moving around like an angry bull intent on sharing his displeasure.

There are a lot of gunshots, and something clips his ear as he knocks another man to the floor. While the pirate groans, Bruce headbutts him unconscious with a helping hand from the metal plates that help hold his skull in one piece. He thinks he hears Jason’s voice, but he knows Jay’s there for sure because no other weapon on Earth seems to crack the air quite like his Jerichos, and it’s like light at the end of a tunnel.

He hopes that Jason’s wearing some manner of face-covering; Bruce Wayne smashing a bunch of skinny pirates to the ground in a feat of great clumsiness and luck is entertaining enough to be acceptable, but a master marksman taking out a horde of sea-faring villains isn’t as likely to come off as normal.

Bruce doesn’t have the breathing room to turn around and check because more pirates are scrambling aboard with their own weight in weaponry, even if in his mind’s eye he imagines that Jason is wearing a pillowcase on his head with holes shot out for the eyes.

What an absurd quantity of guns. The number of ways Bruce hates the damned things is uncountable, and if Jason is actually on deck yelling blue murder in pyjamas, things can tip over from ‘scuffle’ into ‘bloodbath’ real damn quick.

Only one thing for it, then. He rolls away from a well-aimed kick and staggers to his feet, keeping his hands behind his back even though he’s worked his way free already. Pirate Captain man is angrily waving his rifle like he’s never known a day of joy in his life, but shooting Bruce might break the streak.

“Stop, stop!” Bruce shouts, aiming to look as non-threatening as a man who has mowed down a series of pirates can. “You can take me, just don’t hurt my staff.” Stand down, Jason , is implicit, while stand down, Luis , is implored.

It’s enough to get the man to bark for his men to stop shooting, as he tries to grab Bruce by the throat in a presumably threatening manner. This is what you get for modern-day piracy where there’s a lot less rigging and ropes and a lot more outboard engines; his grip strength is laughable, but Bruce gamely pretends to struggle to breathe anyway.

Pirate Captain hauls Bruce towards the cluster of his men, looking smug before he turns Bruce to let him see the wreckage of the outdoor lounge of the yacht. It’s bullet-riddled and messed up, but this far from the engine and the bridge, the damage is almost exclusively cosmetic. Thankfully Luis seems relatively whole even if he’s got the remains of a chair leg in his hands and a snarl twisting his face, and so does Jason. No pillowcase head-covering, unfortunately, but his steward-boy curly ginger wig is on and his oversized sleeping t-shirt is bulked out in a suspiciously bulletproof-vest shaped mass (thank God).

There are headphones hanging around Jay’s neck, so Bruce assumes he’d gotten it right about the morning lie-in and audiobook listening. Even mid-emergency, it’s still a rare, nice feeling to see that he knows Jason well enough to guess at least this correctly. Bruce tries to communicate with his eyes that everyone just needs to calm down and let him be taken. Pirates don’t tend to shoot billionaires dead, what with the invisible hand of the free market ensuring trigger discipline and all that, so it’s fine. They can rescue him afterwards, and there’s always help to be had. Superman might be off-world at present and Aquaman might take his own sweet time because he’s a sea king moonlighting as a massive asshole, but as long as no one gets hurt badly, a delay doesn’t matter to Bruce.

Jason’s scowling, but he does point his guns down. There’s hope yet that this is going to end relatively bloodlessly, but then the Pirate Captain lets his little victory get to his head. He’s got Bruce in an ineffective chokehold, and now he’s chuckling and waving his gun around and telling Jason that you’re not so confident now that we’ve got your boss, huh?

Even at a distance, Bruce can see that Jason is just barely holding on to his temper, jaw tight and teeth clenched. Having close to a foot over his captor and a hell of a lot of muscle mass on top, the ‘chokehold’ registers more like a messy cuddle, so it’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Until, of course, it isn’t.

Because Pirate Captain isn’t completely done flexing, because he takes it into his head to further press his advantage and slam the point home, he holds the muzzle of his rifle to Bruce’s temple, and shouts bang!

And of course Bruce has been held hostage before, of course he’s had weapons brandished in front of his face, of course there’s nothing exceptionally terrible about this situation when compared to the dozens of exceptionally terrible situations he’s been stuck in.

It’s just that he’s always, always hated guns, and he particularly hates guns held to people’s heads (a goddamn mystery why), and it’s just a little beyond what he considers tolerable, to find himself on the other side of a situation where a parent is about to be shot in the head in front of their child.

It’s something he’ll be ashamed about for the rest of forever, but hindsight’s 20/20 and not even an iron will could stop the tiniest of flinches when the thought of Jason’s going to have to see me die and he isn’t even the one pulling the trigger goes through his head at great speed.

It’s a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment, but Jason hadn’t blinked, and it’s just that inch too far.

Lord, if Luis had been fearsome before, then Jason picking up a steak knife from the dining table and throwing it so viciously, so hatefully that it goes right through the back of a pirate man’s hand is an absolute vision of terror. While Bruce gets the side of his face coated in blood (he’s pessimistically hoping it isn’t from an arterial flow), Jason is scooping up Luis and chucking him overboard. It feels like barely a second has passed from when the first splatter of blood had hit his cheek before Jason appears right in front of him, one hand holding both guns (cool-looking but hilariously ill-advised) while the other is wrapped around the bulky plastic case of the emergency life raft.

Someone tries to drag Bruce back, and the man is met with two gun butts to the nose with a resounding crack! . A moment after that and Jason has Bruce pulled behind him, wig askew and kicking a different man right in the family jewels. The Pirate Captain is screaming and waving at them even as Jason hustles Bruce towards one side of the ship, shoving a life jacket down over his head and tightening the straps before Bruce can get his hands through the armholes.

It is, clearly, on purpose. “Jason,” Bruce warns him, growling even as he keeps the name as quiet as he can. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason kicks a stack of sun loungers over to act as a barricade against the approaching pirates, but he’s completely unharried as he turns to look at Bruce. “B, you’re banged up to fuck and back, and these guys are just massive assholes who’ve been pillaging ships carrying aid during a goddamn pandemic. Your plan’s not working out, so I’m going to handle it my way. Just go hang out in the water for a while, okay,” Jason pauses and shoots over the top of the mass of wood, before ducking down to reload. “On God, I’ll swab the decks clean-ish before I pull you back up. That’s my plan.”

An errant chair arm by Jason’s side explodes into splinters from the return fire, and it’s getting really hard to avoid kill shots in order to have a civil conversation. They’re running out of time, and Bruce knows , knows without a shadow of a single doubt that this is restraint and thoughtfulness and care from Jason, to hold back on what he thinks is right just because he knows Bruce doesn’t like to see a case devolve into death. There’s also a chance that the gun to his head shook both of them up more than they want to admit. This could well be a really touching moment for everyone involved.

But a dozen pirates are advancing, and more than wanting to stop Jason from murdering a bunch of people, Bruce simply refuses to let him face this alone, so he just shakes his head and starts trying to work his way out of the vest.

Unfortunately, it’s at about the same time the pirates decide to go on an all-out siege, running towards them and knocking the stack of chairs over in their haste. Bruce doesn’t have time to think, just steps forward so that he can body block Jason and hope that polyethylene foam can take a shot or 12.

Jason disagrees with this course of action, and he makes it exceedingly clear. One moment Bruce is standing firm between his son and almost-certain death, and the next he finds himself being flung over the side of the yacht, Jason executing a frankly gorgeous Judo throw. A blob of bright orange follows him down, the instant raft deploying in midair.

“Fly, you fucking fool!” Jason screams at him, and Bruce’s last thought before he hits the water and the hard outer shell of the raft hits him in the head, is that he was right.

Jason had been listening to the Lord of the Rings.

(And Bruce is really regretting leaving the Shire).

It’s going to be a hell of a story to tell the gang; hijinx on the high seas, and if Jason can convince Bruce to take a picture of him looking suitably pensive while the sea breeze flutters his hair and open shirt, they’ll have a cover for the book deal that inevitably follows Jimmy the Red-Haired Steward’s dramatic rescue of literal billionaire Bruce Wayne.

It’s almost anti-climactic in the end; he sends Bruce overboard and is polite enough to chuck a raft down with him so that the man won’t have to find out that not even Steph’s go-to brand of makeup can stand up to the open ocean, and minus an overbearing parent idiotically trying to take bullets for him, Jason’s free to just go right the hell off.

By his count, there must be close to 20 pirates now, and just one of him.

Damn, what fun odds. He knocks out 4 guys the moment they pass his barricade, and they definitely won’t be dying from those wounds. There’s a slightly messier kerfuffle when he kicks a tabletop off its legs and flings it at the guy who thought setting off a rocket-launcher in a luxury yacht is a good idea, and casualties from that are self-inflicted, so there’s no sweating it.

A half hour of screaming and shooting later, and at this point he’s just showing off when he leaps off the upper deck and gets a trick shot out into the knee of the man with the biggest rifle. At the end of it there’s a lot of moaning and groaning on the ground, there’s blood everywhere, and barring rocket-man, the Pirate Captain’s still the worst off because a serrated steak knife thrown at high speed will do a number on anyone. It’s exactly what he deserves.

Jason putters about securing the pirates with fishing line, and shoves handkerchiefs into the deeper wounds as he does a headcount and takes deep pride in having not killed anyone even though his temper’s the most frayed it’s been in a while (his history with bodies of water is bad and his track record with parental figures is even worse).

He leaves the captain tied up on the sun deck, because a sunburn’s the least the man deserves after holding a gun to Bruce’s head and being so proud of it. If Jason had trod on his hand a little heavily on his way off the deck, well. Some lessons just need to be worked in with some elbow grease.

Cleaning takes a while because B can be so damn picky about appearances , and it’s easier to do without the man himself anyways, so he doesn’t think twice about leaving Bruce to sulk in his floating inflatable tent while Jason works. When he hears noises from the pirate ship while he’s going around disarming all the weapons, he ends up finding a gaggle of kidnapped fishermen stuffed in the hold, and he wants to go step on the Pirate Captain’s hand all over again.

He frees the fishermen and moves them onto the yacht, where the staff who have crept out of the panic room with knives in their hands and murder in their hearts welcome the poor fucks and make them something hot to eat. Really, being a crusader’s a lot easier without Bruce’s presence, and it’s like a victory lap at this point. No one’s dead, even more people have been rescued than when they started, and the Coast Guard should be rolling in any minute.

Jason cannot wait to show off to B just how damn good he is at his job.

Everything wrapped up and a dozen shoulder-slaps from the crewmembers later, Jason makes his way down to the back of the yacht, where a platform can be lowered and the canoes and jet skis can be set out in the water. He’s fully expecting to see Luis hanging on to the ladder near there, with Bruce tethered like an errant puppy. Jason’s already grinning as the platform swings open with a quiet splash, but the sight that greets him isn’t one for smug eyes.

Luis is there, looking a little cold but ultimately quite calm and relaxed, and smiles when he sees him. “Jimmy!” Luis calls out, hauling himself up onto the platform and taking his shirt off to wring it dry. “You crazy bastard. I’m glad you’re okay! Is Mister Bruce also all right? The pirates are gone?” He eyes the bobbing pirate ship with great distrust, and overall gives the impression of a man ready to pick up a kayak oar and go to war.

Jason’s leaning as far off the platform as he can, craning his neck to try and see the bright orange floating raft. “Pirates are taken care of,” he tells Luis, and doesn’t let his unease show. “Everyone’s fine, but I threw Mister Bruce off the boat too, with the little tent raft. Did you not see him, captain?”

Luis shakes his head. “You must have thrown him overboard on the other side, Jimmy.” He turns a frightful shade of pale, and leans back out the yacht to help look. “Can Mister Bruce swim?”

Everyone in the family is an accomplished swimmer; for reasons that probably only make sense when you’re a paranoid patriarch, all of them had to prove that they could swim a mile in full gear before they were okayed to patrol close to the waterfront. It’s also common knowledge in a family with a collective competitive streak a mile wide that Bruce once rescued 3 full-grown adults in the open ocean while fully kitted out, so yeah.

“Yeah, he can swim.”

So why in the hell is he not right here?

Jason takes a deep breath, and reminds himself Bruce always has a tracker on him somewhere, so even if he was carried away by the waves, actually locating him shouldn’t be an issue. What’s more likely to be a pain in the ass is the Coast Guard boats plowing through the sea towards them. Jason’s cover as a steward is enough to fool local police, but if he’s pulled in for questioning re: owning and using his guns, it’s going to become A Problem.

A problem that would take a lot of time to handle, and that’s not something Jason’s got in spades if Bruce is missing.

Ah, shit. He’s going to have to call this in, and that’s not going to be possible in an itchy wig on a ship crawling with officers. It’s time for Jimmy to disappear, looks like.

He considers his options, and decides to just go with his gut. Luis seems like a good guy; civilians who step up in a life-or-death situation despite common sense telling them not to usually are. And compared to B, Jason’s always been quicker to trust, anyways.

“Listen, Luis,” he tells the man, face serious. “I’m actually Mister Bruce’s bodyguard. If he’s missing or drowning, I have to go find him. He’s…. like family.” Thank God that no one else is here to hear this. “But if the Coast Guard comes and takes us all in for questioning, I can’t start looking for him. Can you tell them I jumped in the sea after Mister Bruce, and to send people out to find us? I need to grab the tender and sneak off first; he’s been in the water for a while already now, so I just don’t have time to wait.”

Everything is probably completely fine, but you don’t live and then die and then be reborn and then continue to live as a successful vigilante by hanging your hat on ‘probably’. Jason’s itching to get on the little tender and check in with Alfred, but Luis covering for him would be really fucking helpful.

It feels real good when his instincts pay off. Luis doesn’t even bother saying ‘Yes’ and ‘Of course’; he’s already striding to the little box by the light switch that has the keys for all the gear, and after a quick rummage around he throws the boat’s keys to Jason.

“I’m going to believe you, Jimmy. Go find Mister Bruce, and I will tell the police how you saved us and why you left. Do you need anything more?”

Luis is just hitting homerun after homerun today, wow. Jason grins, and shakes his head. “I’m going to get my stuff from my bunk and climb out the porthole in the kitchen right onto the boat. See you when I see you, captain.”

And Jason’s gone.

Bruce comes to a couple of hours after his inauspicious disembarkation, if he’s judging the sun right. His face is an achy sunburned mess, but he supposes it’s preferable to being unconscious while facedown in water. He regains consciousness quietly and calmly, an extremely important skill when you are regularly abducted and knocked out, but when he cracks his eye open all he sees is the sea, all all of it.

He takes stock of the situation, and notes with some resignation that his yacht (the Pretty Penny, and worth every cent for the look on Alfred’s face) is nowhere in goddamn sight. He’s still cocooned in a life jacket, but luckily a loose buckle had wrapped around the ropes lining the life raft. It takes a bit of finessing, to work his way free and then haul himself up into the raft when he’s disorientated from being sunburned and injured and groggy, but he manages eventually.

The raft had managed to inflate all the way up, and the little tent provided blessed, blessed shade. If he was marooned on a liferaft with his children, or with a civilian, Bruce would be all action by now, cataloguing injuries and rummaging around to find what equipment they have. That’s just the exact right thing to do, in a survival situation.

But he isn’t marooned on a liferaft with anybody else. He’s by himself, his face feels like it’s on fire, he’s a little concussed, and he doesn’t know if everyone’s safe on the yacht. Instead of doing something meaningful, Bruce just groans and lays out as flat as he can get on the small raft, with his legs hanging off over the side.

Might as well get sunburnt knees, make a set of it.

It’s starting to feel like he’s just not meant to have a casual fun time out here in the Caribbean, and this far away from shore, nobody can hear him swear.

His legs are starting to sizzle a little by the time Bruce re-finds his will to survive, and he eventually drags himself upright, looks down to once again despair that he’s literally in swimwear and nothing else, and tugs out the dry bag filled with survival equipment tucked into a pocket near the back of the tent. He’s sure it’ll have much more kit than the average equipment bag, but because he can’t remember the last time he took it into his head to pack survival kits for non-Bat vehicles, everything is likely several years out of date.

As he digs around, any hope of finding a tracker that can ping! loud enough to alert the Batcave disappears. There’s a brick of a satellite phone, but failure to keep it well-maintained means the battery is completely flat, and trying to fix it in a bobbing liferaft that’s constantly letting water in…. ill-advised.

At least being in the Caribbean in the summer means that the current is more likely to have him drifting across the archipelago instead of sweeping him out to the Atlantic. Deserted islands are a dime a dozen here, and Bruce shudders at the thought that he might meet his end here, where it’s warm and sunny and beautiful, instead of bleeding out into a puddle of what might be rainwater or piss or both in a dark alley in Gotham, which is what he thematically deserves.

If only Alfred were here to hear him loudly think about his death after maybe 3 hours of being at sea with his own grim thoughts.

At least the kit bag reflects his personal preferences. Enough energy bars to keep a man physically functioning for at least 2 weeks, and half of them are white-chocolate-and-cranberry flavoured. There’s a rain poncho made of the same material his cape was about 5 years ago, which means it’s light and breathable and incredibly strong. He puts it on, because where Jason presumably gets power from wearing either leather or garish beachwear, Bruce unfortunately counts himself closer to goth than not, and a black raincoat is enough to make him feel at least marginally better.

He digs around some more and finds the usual suspects: a multi-tool with a blade sharp enough to gut a camel (tried! And tested!), 3 flare guns, a little floating solar still, a first aid kit that could keep you alive through increasingly alarming injuries, wax matches and some solid fuel, and a little tin mug that had some fishing line and a bunch of hooks. God, there’s even sun cream in here, and that’s as Classic Alfred as the tiny glass bottle of exquisite whiskey. The reach of one elderly butler’s tender loving care extends really alarmingly far, and Bruce salutes the sky in his honour before taking a carefully-rationed glug of Stranahan for moral support.

It burns smoothly down his throat, and it’s as close to a second wind as Bruce is likely to get out here. Bruce sets up the solar still and has it floating on a tether right by the raft, even if he’s got at best a couple of hours of daylight left. Dinner for the night is either a protein bar or fresh-caught fish if he can swing it, and the bottle of good whiskey needs to stretch for 2 weeks for the worst case survival scenario, because that’s around when Superman comes back from his off-world mission and can come play fetch.

Best case scenario, Jason’s going to pull up in the BatWing any moment now, and Bruce will gaze upon a hideous ginger wig and once again get to marvel at the miracle of Jason alive and coming at him.

The Batman hasn’t survived so long off the backs of best case scenarios though. Fantasy revelled in, Bruce starts divvying up his resources and makes his peace with potentially having his body be found in a poncho 3 months from now by deeply unlucky fishermen.

Hell of a legacy to leave for his children, but it’s better than pearls and a dark alleyway (he sure would have appreciated a larger bottle of whiskey).

Escape was the name of the game, so Jason doesn’t burn time on thinking, just grabs his supplies and steals the tender, gunning the engine and gone out of sight before the Coast Guard could board the Penny. It’s pretty hair-raising, literally; throttle opened to full he almost loses his wig to the whipping winds.

Fifteen minutes after separating from Captain Luis, Jason’s dropping anchor in a tiny lagoon and pulling out his Bat-issued laptop. First things first, he runs through all the trackers Bruce is most likely to have on him. No point in alerting HQ if Bruce just got washed ashore on a little beach a couple of miles away. He could do without the rest of the family calling him out for simultaneously being both Bruce’s back-up as well as the main reason Bruce is currently missing, thanks. There’s already plenty of self-recrimination going ‘round.

The internet’s pretty slow considering the private BatSatellite beaming it right down at him, but it only takes a few minutes before he’s run through the checklist of the dozen or so standard trackers Bruce could have chosen from. Almost everything is deactivated, probably because a mother-of-pearl button and a tie clip aren’t options that mesh with swimwear too often, but one of his watches is active and blinking a cheerful green from the other side of the island, moving swiftly towards land.

Jason thinks hell yeah! at the start but then logic comes a-calling; neither the current nor a very determined man could move that quickly, and the blip is moving in a straight line away from the yacht. He takes another look at the list, and groans when he realises that what likely happened was that Bruce’s shiny golden Rolex was liberated from him pre-getting-thrown-overboard, and is now likely enjoying a pleasant ride to Nassau in the pocket of some pirate on the Coast Guard’s ship.

“This is why I told him to get a goddamn belly button ring,” Jason shouts down at an errant starfish, who fundamentally does not care. Garish intimate jewelry work because they can stay on regardless of the state of undress, and because not even the most determined thugs tend to be super interested about groping around a man’s navel to get half an ounce of cheap tin and silver. An ugly piercing is by far the best option for discreet trackers.

Just classic goddamn Bruce; too good for gun violence, too good for tacky piercings, too good to just stay the hell still. Jason half-heartedly goes through the rest of the list, on the extremely off chance that Bruce slapped on the temporary tramp stamp with its special magnetic ink, or decided to opt for the cute anklet with dangling shells that’s a Cass design, but no go.

There’s not a blip anywhere, and if Bruce is really really lost at sea, time’s not something either of them have a whole lot of. Jason starts up the boat and decides to head right to the outermost chain of tiny islands, because the vital thing here is making sure that Bruce doesn’t get swept right out into the open ocean. One hand on the wheel, with the other he pops an earphone back in and presses a complicated code using the volume up/down buttons. It’s another few seconds of the Fellowship coming through before the comm connects, and it’s Alfred.

“How can I help, Master Jason?”

“How much of what went down did you catch, Agent A?”

“I must confess to a little chuckle when I saw Master Bruce being thrown overboard. The onboard cameras caught the rest of your fight, and may I just say, splendid aim with the steak knife. I doubt I could have done better myself.”

That’s a blatant lie if Jason’s ever heard one, but he’ll take it. “Thanks, Alfie. Thing is, uh. Thing is, I might have misplaced B.”

There’s a short pause, and Alfred’s voice comes back on with polite inquiry. “What do you mean by ‘misplaced’, Master Jason?”

“You saw me chuck B over and leave him a life raft, right? Yeah, well, when I went ‘round to do a pick-up, he was gone. And he doesn’t have any kit on him, so.” Urgh, this is going to live on in infamy. “So I might have lost Batman somewhere in the sea.”

There’s another pause, a little longer this time, filled with enough character that Jason can just imagine Alfred with his head tipped back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to chase off a headache that has given him no peace presumably since B was born. “I see. Do you know if he is injured? Or if Master Bruce is missing as per some sort of plan?”

“Think he might have been grazed by a couple of bullets, but nothing life-threatening. And this could be a dick move that’s part of a bigger plan, Alfred, but he knows you’d be real passive-aggressive if he runs off without telling anyone. He pulls that kind of bullshit when things are apocalyptic, but it’s just a bunch of pirates not social-distancing.” Jason worries at his lower lip, and tries to feel more confident about the absence of serious injuries. “I don’t know, maybe he hit the water wrong and passed out and got swept out, or something. I just know I’m not leaving this as is.”

God literally save B if this does turn out to be some dumbfuck ploy to go off and Rambo a mission solo, that’s a Jason Todd guarantee right there.

“I believe not trusting Master Bruce to be all right is generally the right way of thinking, unfortunately.” Alfred sighs, and it comes off as static in the earpiece. “I will make some inquiries, and see what resources we have for a search and rescue mission. In the meantime, Master Jason, do what you think is best. Master Bruce may not have any of his usual equipment, but so long as he has the raft, he should survive for a good long while.”

Knowing how extremely over-prepared Bruce is in almost every aspect of his life, Jason wouldn’t be too surprised to know that all WE rafts came prepared with spear guns and a bar of solid gold. Best case scenario, he’ll find Bruce in time for dinner, and they can have an(other) awkward meal where Bruce does his damnedest to be inoffensive and haltingly the best father he can be, while Jason tries not to get ticked off by every third word out of the man’s mouth.

Jason tells Alfred that he’s going to whip out some maps and do a lap around all the tiny little cays that dot the sea to try and find Bruce, and half his head’s thinking about a memorial service where Clark will presumably burst into tears while stood in front of a casket that’s got a symbolic Speedo in it, and that’s how Bruce is going to go down in history, which is what he deserves.

The other half decides that now is a good time to remember how Bruce had once gone all-out on a search-and-rescue mission for Jason too, many many years ago, and oh, look how that turned out.

What a fucking feast or famine man.

Fishing is an accursed activity for accursed men. Bruce is somebody whose hobby slash raison d’etre involves getting dressed up in armour and perching on a gargoyle somewhere high up in an unmoving manner for hours at a time, and he still finds himself bored almost to tears by the lows and lowers of idly holding a fishing line in his hand, being convinced something has gotten hooked, and pulling up absolutely nothing (again and again and again).

It’s blissfully sundown by now and there’s no fresh fish on the menu, but he has a mouthful of fresh water thanks to the solar still, and he’s got half a protein bar in him for dinner. The moon’s nowhere near full and the stars are obscured; he’s completely enveloped in the kind of darkness that’s so, so foreign to a city like Gotham.

It’s all blackness as far as the eye can see, which is not very far, and all he has for company are his thoughts and the quiet splish splish splish of little waves pattering against the side of his raft.

It’s deeply unnerving even for Bruce, a man who has on occasion described himself as The Night. He has a fire starter and nothing to start a fire; he has a phone and no way to connect to anyone. He has a lot and very little all at once, and despite his best efforts, no amount of focus can get anything done .

So Bruce sits with his back to the opening of the little tent, and over the next couple of hours finds himself slumping and sliding lower, til his head is thrown back across the edge and all he sees is nothing.

Stoicism in the face of terrible odds is an important part of being the Batman, but Bruce has no cowl and no cape; he’s just him right now. As he stares at what may or may not be the North Star, he finds himself thinking about how dinner was supposed to be scallops and baked fish with a side of exquisite wine, and gently mourns just a little. If his luck held, Jason would have swung by later to help himself to the dessert tray that Bruce has delivered straight to his room, and he could have sat there and basked in the unending pleasure of Jay's healthy and hearty and whole company.

Instead, he’s stuck out at sea trying to guess how close or far away he is from 10:47 PM, which is the default time to throw up a signal in cases where a team’s been broken up. In Gotham, even if he didn’t have a watch or a phone or a comm unit or a car, he could usually guess the time down to 15 minutes, just based on which shops were open and which shops were closed, what buses were running and what colour the WE building was lit up to, by the presence or absence of the tinkly elevator music that accompanies the fountain light show in the main plaza.

Here, there’s nothing. The position of the planets would be a bit of a hint on a good day, but on a bad day with heavy clouds and a concussion he’s not confident Venus is real. The outdoors are a mistake, and laid out in a raft miles and miles away from the nearest cityscape Bruce feels homesickness so keenly he has to turn over and throw up a little bit.

At least the concussion is keeping him company.

The first hour after nightfall he had taken the initiative to just sit there and count time out, but there’s something spectacularly soul-sucking about counting down seconds. Bruce was somewhere in the 3000s when he came to the conclusion that he would rather not reinforce his concept of mortality by literally calling out each moment he comes closer to death, thanks. It’s been a while since he stopped counting, but time’s a mess in the absence of manmade context.

He’s also, shamefully, a mess in the absence of manmade context.

Bruce has 3 flares and a son out there somewhere looking for him. Having a predetermined time to launch a signal is not a fundamentally bad idea, but it’s not practical when out in the field, and right now he’s even willing to go so far so as to admit that using the time of his parents’ passing is both extremely grim and extremely unkind to all parties involved.

All factors considered, it’s as good a time as any to get the flare gun. If he’s lucky, Jason will be ‘round to pick him up in under an hour. If he’s less lucky, it might be a different band of roving pirates that come for him, though by this point the company of sun-dried criminals is greatly preferable to just his own.

If he’s really, really unlucky, the flare’ll explode big and bright up in the sky to the attention of absolutely no one, and when that happens Bruce can begin to doubt his reality as much as he doubts Venus’.

“Please let it not be 10:47,” he says in the vain hope that karma’s looking out for him as he sticks his upper body out the tent flaps and shoots at the sky.

The flare goes up straight and true and explodes into bright bright light, and all of this would be a thing to be happy about if the presence of light didn’t highlight the clear, helpless absence of everything else.

For the first time in a very long time, the fearsome big bad Bat of Gotham turns in early for the night, but nobody is even around to appreciate it.

(He will find out that it was, in fact, just around 9 when he shot off the flare, or just about 3000 seconds after the 3000 seconds he’d already counted.)

(The invention of time was a Mistake.)

[1/2]

#batfam big bang 2020 #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #whale writing #the vibe is v much that specific kind of humid depressed u get in summer #when ur not feeling great but #the overwhelming presence of the sun tells your body to #keep on keeping on #anyways i love the sea thanks for coming to my community tedtalk

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timefirewrites · 3 years

Text

I won NaNo!!

Words written: 525

Total words: 50280

Favorite lines from the whole story:

“Uh, state your business.”

“Current objective unknown. Error.”

Well, that was helpful.

------

Right. The robot didn’t know about their foolproof plan yet.

“See that train? We’ll sneak onto it and ride it into freedom.”

“Understood.”

Silence. Wow, Neb had to do everything on their own, didn’t they.

“We need to get into that freight car.” They pointed at a random car in the middle of the train.

“Understood.”

What a thrilling conversation. Neb mumbled something under their breath and strode towards the hovertrain, head kept low again.

-------

“The stuff we’re mining here. Dark black, dusty. Makes the air hard to breathe. Looks like your metal, except less shiny. Also COLE and Coal sound similar.”

-------

“Hey.” Coals head immediately turned to face them. “Please stop squeezing me. I don’t wanna die just yet.” Neb spoke painfully slowly, not yet having regained complete control of their body. Coal on the other hand was very quick to act and stopped pressing Neb to their chest.

------

“What’s up with your display?” Their voice sounded more steady now, which was good.

“I do not understand.” Their voice on the other hand just sounded confused.

“Oh, right. You probably can’t see it. You’re currently displaying an error message. Which just reads ‘error’. Not very helpful.”

“Fuck. I didn’t deactivate it.”

------

They settled on two things they were pretty sure were edible: a soda labeled “SpacePop: the best soda in the universe” with a “multiple sunsets on Madoras” flavor and some leftover pizza. (They were pretty sure Madoras didn’t exist, they never heard of that planet before. Maybe they shouldn’t drink that soda after all.)

------

“We could just go in and race to the top.”

“What? No. Why would we do that? We can’t afford to get caught, we need to make a plan, Coal.”

“You said you wanted an adventure. Plus, I do not think we could create a plan, seeing as we know next to nothing about its defence and security.”

They said that because of them? They were just rambling earlier, not really thinking about it, just talking to fill the silence.

“Okay. But if anything goes wrong, it’ll be your fault.”

------

“Then let me go. This is my spaceship now, go steal someone else’s.” They crossed their arms.

“Your spaceship? I think not. Believe me, I know which ship we’ve been waiting for and it’s that one.” Cap gestured to the ship the child was still standing in.

“And? Who cares.” Cap repressed a long sigh and/or a string of curses.

“Joshua White does. Because that’s his ship. What did you do to him?” If that child killed him, then Cap had no problem with just letting them go again.

“Who? I stole it. And? It doesn’t matter anyways!” Someone was worked up about something. Cap was as well.

“So you mean to tell me that our target is back on Earth?! Stranded! On one of the most secure planets in this part of the galaxy! With no way for us to get down there without dying!” They took a deep breath. And then another one. Then, they threw their damned breathing exercises out the window.

-------

“Where are you?”

“What?” The voice was taken aback.

“I mean, I can’t see you anywhere?” Neb looked around again, and yes, there still wasn’t some small alien they just didn’t notice the first two times.

“Oh. I’m the ship. Nice to meet you?” They sounded somewhat embarrassed, like they can’t believe they forgot to mention they’re a ship.

------

“Then that’s it. Welcome to the 35th century. Here we have technology that works most of the time.”

------

“I’m Laser, my gender is a burning trash can and my pronouns depend entirely on the mercy of the universe.”

-----

“I was really looking forward to never seeing this thing again.” This comment earned Laser a punch in her ribs from Ahdia.

They signed something to Laser, who flipped them off, [...]

-----

In the community room, the screen went blank, just as the bad guy held the heroes at gunpoint.

"Darling, I know you resent my taste of movies, but this is way below you." Mer did not look pleased.

"You're outnumbered now! Coal agreed to watch Love On A Foreign Planet with me. So, uh, get moving, Fishsticks."

"I can't believe you already brainwashed them. It's not even been a full day, give them a break first, darling." As if to illustrate his point, Mer draped herself over the couch, an arm covering their visor and sighed dramatically. They reached for the remote control and turned the screen back on. Rude. Com turned it off again.

"You are insufferable, darling."

-------

“I’m okay!”

Another crash, another sentence yelled: “Fuck!”

------

Laser seemed to be enjoying it as well, while Mer stared at Neb's skewer longingly.

"You want some?" They're the last person to not share their food.

"No thanks, darling.” Okay, Mer stared at Neb’s skewer with disgust.

-------

“A word of advice, don’t insult the only person preventing me from killing all of you.” Laser typically spoke with a monotone voice, but this was different. It was ice cold.

-------

“Stop staring at me, you creep.” Laser didn’t open her eyes, and if Lifo wouldn’t have noticed her mouth moving, there would be no indication that she was awake at all.

“Make me.” Fel was concerned. It’s been a while since Laser last passed out.

“Ugh. Fine.” She slowly reached up, grabbed the scarf that was still hanging from her head and threw it at Lifo. She missed by half a meter or so.

------

“Ah, good. You’re, uh, awake again.”

“Good morning to you too.” So much for enjoying breakfast in the comfortable silence of his room.

“Actually, uh, it’s already afternoon.” Huh. The stuff Nova gave him must’ve been stronger than he remembered. Or maybe he had just been very tired. Ugh, Cap probably wanted to talk to him as soon as he got up.

“Cap wants to, uh, talk to you.” And there it was.

--------

Somehow, Neb ends up at the medbay. Nova was in the middle of doing something very important on his display, which certainly wasn't playing Gen’ros Apocalypse with Com.

-------

“Understandable. But hey, once we’re done you can probably spend the rest of your life on whichever planet you want.” Mer let out a chuckle.

“I highly doubt it’s going to be that many creds, Arequos live very long after all.” At least as long as they don’t show their face on planets that want them dead.

-----

“And let me guess: you’re planning our downfall right now.” Laser tried to look unimpressed, but the way the corners of her mouth lifted up ever so slightly ruined the act. Not everybody is born as talented as Mer, after all.

“Maybe so. Perhaps I’m thinking about the best way to shove you out the airlock and how to pretend it was all a terrible accident.”

“As if your reflexes are fast enough to overwhelm me like that.”

“Darling, you know me by now, I’m more than capable of startling you.”

“Prove it.”

Well, Mer couldn’t refuse an invitation like that, now could they? Moving as sleek as ever, she was up in Laser’s face in the blink of an eye.

“Surprise.” It was barely audible, but the grin on his face spoke for its own.

--------

“Ugh.” Fel wanted to say something more, fel really did, but apparently fel had spent too much time with Mer because Lifo dramatically collapsed onto the floor, face first.

------

“It worked! Fuck yes! It worked!” Nearly bursting with excitement, Coal punched into thin air - and accidentally fired bursts of energy at the ceiling.

------

It was green. No oceans, no land that wasn’t overgrown. But it was a sick green, like all the plants were infected with something and slowly rotting. And that only got worse as they entered the atmosphere and Cap could start to make out more details. Nothing was moving. But that was probably just a trick of… the light or something. It would be impossible for a whole planet to be absolutely frozen in time, right?

------

“Good luck to you two and don’t take too long, I really want to get back.” He opened the door for them and Cap gestured to Coal to go first.

“Believe me, I don’t want to either. Don’t move. Unless, you get, like, attacked by some plant monsters, then please do just that.” Laser gave them a thumbs up and Cap left as well.

------

So Coal went to pick them up, but both of them realized half way through that they had no idea what they were doing. Coal ended up clutching Cap to their chest in a weird, one-sided hug and proceeded to lift them out the water. Wait, what?

“What are you doing?”

“I am going to fly. I am sick of wading through this mud.” Cap didn’t know they could do that.

The flying turned out to be more of a hovering and it wasn’t particularly fast either.

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“Sure. If you want me to spend an hour or two afterwards recharging.” At least the mental image of the two hovering across this bog walking speed managed to push back the horrible feeling that grew stronger and stronger the longer Cap was on this planet.

------

“Attention. Intruders on floor minus 30. Everyone keep calm and stay in your rooms, the COLEs will take care of it. I repeat: intruders on floor minus 30.”

“Fuck.” Cap and Coal said in unison.

“What do we do? Fuck, what do we do?!” Cap gestured wildly around.

“Keep calm and stay in our room?”

“That’s. Not. Helping.”

------

There was no reason in getting back to the others quickly, so Cap took their time. A big disadvantage of disrupting the radars on the planet below them was that their own radar couldn’t pick up any signals anymore either. They don’t remember when exactly, but at some point Coal shut down, not having enough energy to keep going, still clutching the weapon tightly to their chest.

Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @black-lakritz-dragon @marewriteblr @spacetimewraithwrites @emmaschoutenwrites @abalonetea

#I DID IT!!!!!#the first draft of book one is finished and i won nano!!#this has been challenging but also really fun #part of me is glad nanos over though because that means i can actually do something besides writing now #nano 2020 #nanowrimo 2020 #gay space pirates #my writing #com #cap #laser #lifo #mer #ahdia #nova #neb #coal #lao

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silver-wield · 4 years

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(1/3) Agreeing with the 🌼 anon. That blogger didn’t use “woman empowerment” but she did use “female assertiveness”, and she’s actually an abuse victim herself. Only problem is that she seems to invalidate people who’ve had different abusive/uncomfortable and toxic experiences with behaviors like Aerith’s. I think she raises some good points about the use of the word “abusive” in fandom spaces, but her assumption that the people speaking out haven’t suffered abuse is what makes me critical.

(2/3) She’s recently talked about how Tifa forced Cloud to do things as well. I’m of the opinion that the two situations are largely different for a variety of reasons. Cloud never outright tells Tifa “no” and has it ignored. His grumping is often just a front. With Aerith, on the other hand, he’s consistently uncomfortable. Forced to take little to no pay for his work, faced with people who don’t take no for an answer, and is prevented from leaving by Aerith intercepting him.

(3/3) I said “prevented from leaving” when I should have said she exhibited some truly stalkerish behavior and jumped out at him in the darkness from an alley as he was trying to go. It’s not exactly shining behavior on her part. Especially when she then delays his leaving even more. I think it’s strange to grasp for a lot of people because Cloud doesn’t put up more of a fight, but I also think some manipulation tactics were put into play.

(4/5) Anon who agrees with 🌼 again. The issue has been bothering me a bit because she does raise a good point: why doesn’t Cloud ask anybody else for help? I was wondering if you could answer that question (no pressure, of course). What bothers me the most is that this blogger keeps assuming people are mentioning this as a way to justify hating a character. She implies that the people speaking up haven’t experienced abuse and that they only know it as an abstract concept.

(5/5) That’s incredibly damaging to a lot of people. I myself liked Aerith as a character once I got to know her better, and actually ship her with Cloud (I’m a multishipper), but there’s no ignoring that Aerith acts very strange in chapter 8, at the detriment of Cloud’s consent, comfort, time, and stability. The fact that so many people have spoken up about this isn’t a coincidence. People with bad experiences are coming out and getting disregarded. That shouldn’t be happening.

Apologies for the long post 😅 I hope you don’t mind. I’m pretty impassioned about this issue, honestly. Because I do actually agree with the blogger on multiple points, but find that she seems to keep missing the issue and hurting other people in the fandom. Cloud doesn’t need to be held at gunpoint to be put into an uncomfortable (and possibly dangerous - he doesn’t know Aerith all that well) situation. She’s right about how certain words are misused, but she’s dodging the heart of the issue.

Honestly, it’s exhausting how these people take concepts they don’t understand and slap them on shit that’s the exact opposite like if they scream they’re right enough people will believe them.

It takes as long as your browser and typing speed to look shit up.

Assertiveness is the quality of being self-assured and confident without being aggressive.

WITHOUT.

Assertiveness is not gender oriented, so what the fuck even are people blabbing about now? Female assertiveness? Gimme a break. Being assertive is a character trait. Some people are naturally assertive, while others need to learn how to stand up for themselves. Like a particular spiky haired protagonist.

Aerith’s not assertive, she’s pushy because she doesn’t respect Cloud, and respect is part of being assertive. Being able to get your point across without being a douchebag about it. Like how certain people are constantly screaming how they’re right and dragging everyone else through the mud. Those people aren’t assertive because assertiveness is a positive trait. It implies confidence in oneself and one’s ideals. There’s no need to be a dick to people because they believe in their viewpoint and see no reason to pull others down.

Ex: I’m both assertive and can be a dick because one of my other traits is petty bench, but on the whole I’m assertive without activating that petty bench mode until people piss me off because I operate on a respect and respect alike policy. If people come to me and give me shit then they shouldn’t expect flowers in exchange.

Back to the thing.

Aerith talks over Cloud, ignores his opinion, bullies him into doing what she wants “this is the plan, Cloud, and you’ll learn to love it” and deliberately ignores the fact he says no. That line creeps me tf out and it obviously does Cloud too because he literally steps up to her and says “what?” in an aggressive voice. Cloud has a limit and Aerith was very close to going over it.

Cloud. said. no.

And guess what? Cloud’s not assertive. Not for himself. Not until he’s pushed beyond normal means.

He couldn’t say no to Jessie, despite not being happy about the job. He couldn’t refuse to help Aerith, despite not wanting to fight Reno -- he knows how tough Turks are, he’s not an idiot -- and then he got compensated with a date that made Reno call him a weirdo (and he never accepted it either, so Aerith’s yet another person in sector 5 who took him for a fool). So, yeah, no goddamn wonder Cloud’s reluctant to argue when Aerith could ruin his hard won reputation inside of an afternoon. He says “That wasn’t the deal” when she tries to force him to stay, but can’t keep insisting when that doesn’t work. Because Cloud is shy af. Were people not paying attention to the promise? To CC? That’s real Cloud and real Cloud makes up the core of soldier Cloud. He’s a shy, awkward boy who could barely speak to his crush. He didn’t get along with others because he’s introverted. He’s quiet and reserved. Just because he kicks all the ass doesn’t change that about him.

Cloud isn’t a talker. Everyone knows this about him. It’s a canon fact. So, not being a talker, being reserved, quiet, introverted, unable to speak up for his own sake when he wants something that together showcases someone who isn’t good at standing up for himself. He tries. He tried so hard to refuse Aerith, but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He either got lost trying to get home or he put up with the pushy girl who keeps making him do shit he doesn’t want to. He sighs and pulls faces and doesn’t look happy. He wants to go home. He still said no several times to her whenever she tried to waylay him further. She didn’t care about what he wanted. That doesn’t make her assertive. It makes her the asshole because she has no respect for him.

People think that because he called Jessie desperate that it meant he wanted to stay with Aerith. That he’s capable of speaking up for himself. Nope With Jessie, he’d had a long ass day of work and longer ass night, been excluded by both Barret and the Avalanche trio, made to break into Jessie’s house (which doesn’t sit well with Cloud’s actual moral compass), then did a bunch more difficult shit fighting off Shinra and then literally jumped off the plate. Okay?! Cloud had a long ass day and it was like 4am by that point and he was tired. Anybody tries to say after that much work they’d be nice Imma call them a goddamn liar.

Aerith refused to tell Cloud the way home, absolutely prevented him from leaving, made him do a bunch of work for shitty or no pay, belittled and insulted him, then barricaded the hallway so he couldn’t escape and stalked him to the exit when he escaped. He literally pulls a yessh face after reluctantly agreeing to let her show him how to get home. And then when they get there she withholds vital information for how he can actually get into the sector (or did people not notice him saying the giant gate was shut too?) until she gets what she wants out of him. And he sighs. Again. He has no say in anything because Aerith doesn’t listen to anyone but herself. The only reason he starts being nice to her is she tries to get info about Zack out of him and Cloud’s a nice guy who feels sorry for her. He knows he’ll never see her after this (or did people also misinterpret that reaction to Elmyra? Probably, since the only person he’d want to make a normal life with is Tifa, so being told he can’t is gonna get a reaction duh), so why be a dick to a girl who’s obviously upset about her boyfriend? Literally the second he saw Tifa -- barely even saw her because he knew that was her from the back of her head, her shoulder and hands -- he ran to her. He forgot Aerith even existed. But, sure, please do focus on the fact that he respected Tifa enough to do as she asked after an entire goddamn day of being disrespected by someone else. He’s not gonna treat Tifa the way he was just treated by Aerith. He actually cares about her.

And what did they think the message in Stand Up was? It’s not about dancing ffs. Andrea’s telling Cloud not to be afraid to be himself. That means speaking up for himself too, not about being real Cloud, which is a message he wouldn’t even understand at that point because he’s soldier Cloud and not aware of real Cloud. Andrea figured out Cloud right away. He saw a boy who’d do anything for the woman he loved, even let himself get pressured into something he’d be embarrassed by. That’s what stand up means in relation to Cloud.

Tifa never forced Cloud to do anything. She asked him to go with her to collect filter money, then immediately backtracked when she realised she’d have to pay him for that too. Cloud agreed and smiled at her. She also let him keep all of the money they got, which in the end gave him a grand total of 2150 gil, not the 2000 he was promised, so they overpaid him to make up for the delay.

She also asked him after the first quest “what do you want to do now?” and he said “Dunno,” so she made a suggestion. There’s no force behind that. He could refuse and go take a nap or something. She spent the day getting him work and helping him with that work, so much so that he was fully prepared to split the fee with her. Unlike with Aerith.

I could go on and on about this because I’ve gone over that chapter so many times. I don’t just replay odd chapters to get stuff, I replay the entire game, so I get to see the development of everything as it unfolds and see those connections between things that I overlooked before because I was too busy looking at something else. People think because they spend umpteen hours in sector 5 that Cloud did too. Nope. Cloud was there for around 11 hours before he left.

It was morning when he woke and since in December the sun would rise around 8am, that’s the earlier possible time that it could’ve been. In fact it could’ve been later. Cloud and Aerith spend several hours getting back to the sector so that it’s close to dinner time when they arrive. She then makes him do odd jobs for a few hours and then they eat and Cloud has a nap -- because he literally has a dream. You know, that thing people keep clinging to. He can’t dream if he’s not asleep. When he wakes up it’s dark and since it’s past dinner time, it’s around 6-7pm when he escapes and makes for the sector 6 exit. And that’s chapter 8.

Chapter 9 takes around 4 hours for them to complete. They spend a couple of hours fighting in the coliseum, then Cloud messes around while Aerith’s getting ready, which from Madam M seems to take around an hour. That leaves the rest of the time for the honey bee inn show, getting Cloud changed, walking to Corneo’s and the bit in the dungeon. Then they get dropped in the sewers.

Do you see how little time Cloud actually spent with Aerith? He’s known her for like 15 hours total before he reunites with Tifa. And people think he fell in love with her? Ew. Even Disney knew better than to try that.

#ship war #for common sense #long post #for the cinnamon roll

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years

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Author: Orion

Prompt: Water on the floor

Group: G

The treasure in his hands

If the patrols were more frequent today, he would have gotten speed tickets worth more than his monthly salary for sure. If not, the speed cameras surely caught his car speeding away more than once. Weaver didn't care about any of this, neither did Rogers who currently tried to hold on for dear life, keeping his mouth thankfully shut. Probably more out of the fear of vomiting than worsening his partner's already short temper, but Weaver didn't give a crap about the reason. He would have gone to jail a thousand times over if it meant getting to his destination any faster.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he feared it would break his sternum, and if the steering wheel were alive, he would have strangled it by now, and been charged for murder. He was pretty sure, to be one breath away from passing out from the overwhelming panic he kept barely at bay.

All because of one phone call spoke in a frantic voice.

“Weaver, it's Belle! You need to hurry! Please! I don't - just come!”

He didn't remember running to his car, phone forgotten, with Rogers hard on his heels, barely hearing Tilly yelling they were at her place.

What the fuck was Belle doing down there?!

"Weaver if you won't slow down, mate, we'll crush! there's ice on the road!"

"Shut up, Rogers," he gritted through clenched teeth while slamming on the brakes to take a sharp turn right, making the younger man grunt in discomfort when his shoulder hit the door.

Weaver was pretty sure that adrenaline pumping through his veins was the only thing preventing him from falling face down into the snow after finally killing the engine and leaping from his seat, not bothering to close the door. He all but burst in through the entrance, gun drawn, not eternally sure what to expect.

He was ready to face a criminal holding his pregnant wife on the gunpoint. What he got was a sweaty Belle lying on the ground, groaning, her small hands twisted in the crumpled blankets with Tilly hovering over her looking ready to bolt.

Weaver looked dumbfounded at the scene, his mind coming to a halt. The gun now hung limply in his hand, forgotten. His mouth opened and closed time and time again as he tried to come up with anything remotely clever to say.

"Why there is water on the floor?"

Two faces whipped in his direction - one looking ready to murder him on the spot the other as if thinking he had hung moon and stars. The former was his wife.

Clearly, it hadn't been the right thing to say.

"Why the hell do you think?!" She panted while glaring daggers at him.

"Oh, thank God!" Tilly jumped to her feet at the same time, looking ready to hug him, but stopping at Belle's painful cry.

Weaver was at his wife's side in an instant taking her hand in his, his heart in his throat, still not able to fully comprehend the whole situation.

"Sweetheart, shouldn't you be at the hospital?"

Belle shot him a look so nasty that he immediately knew it had been precisely the wrong thing to say. Again.

"Tell that to your daughter! She's even worse than you, and she's not even born yet!"

"Well, she's your daughter, too," he shot back defensively.

She squeezed his hand so hard he couldn't help but cringle. For someone so small, she sure had the strength when needed.

"We were on our way, but the road was closed..." Tilly was rambling looking agitated. Weaver stopped himself from cursing aloud. Most of the roads had been closed because of the New Year's Eve celebrations for safety measures. Come to think of it, it was a miracle he and Rogers managed to arrive here at all.

"You did well, Tilly."

"Belle's phone died - I couldn't..."

"Honey, it's OK. Rob's right, you did well." Belle smiled at Tilly, reassuringly through her distress, and Weaver felt warmth blooming in his chest. Then Belle's features twisted in pain, and he was slammed back to the reality of the situation.

"Weaver? Is - Bloody hell..."

Belle cried out, crushing his hand even harder, finally snapping him back into action - even if he was petrified and ready to crumble himself. The books didn't cover what to do if your wife went into the labour on the shipping container's floor.

It was too soon!

What if something went wrong?

What if...?

No.

"Rogers, call the ambulance. Then get your ass back in here. Tilly - "

"I'll get hot water," she interrupted, then hesitated. "They always ask for that in the movies, right?" She looked up at him with big frightened eyes, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head.

"That would do. The towels too."

Tilly leapt to her feet in an instant, not questioning his orders. His voice weaved a little, but she didn't seem to notice. He was glad of that as he manoeuvred himself a little so that Belle could rest her head on his shoulder.

"I can't do this, Rob," she whimpered into the crock of his arm as he held her close, stroking her hair. I was heart-breaking, how small her voice had sounded.

"You can, sweetheart, and you will," he whispered against her hair, trying for a calm he didn't feel. "Do you know why? Because you're the strongest, kindest and most brilliant person, I've ever met, a lot more than I could ever be. You're not alone, Belle. Listen to my heartbeat and breathe."

"It's hammering like crazy." She panted, but there was a hint of humour behind it.

"Well, I'm fucking terrified here, you can't blame me," he huffed but felt her smiling a little. "Deep breaths, Belle. In and out. I promise everything will be all right."

"Delivered many babies, didn't you detective?" She grunted.

"Countless. You may not know, but I was a midwife in my previous life."

"Remind me to buy you a uniform, then."

"I got water!" Tilly rushed back, interrupting his cheeky retort that he would gladly wear it if it meant making her relax.

"The ambulance won't make it for at least half an hour." Said Rogers with a sour expression.

Belle's face twisted in pain.

"We don't have half an hour! My daughter is coming now!"

Weaver gritted his teeth. No other choice then. He wasn't a religious man, but he found himself praying nevertheless as he kissed Belle's head.

"Right. Rogers get in here and hold my wife, would you? There's no way in hell I'm letting you see anything other than her face."

"Fine by me, mate." Rogers took Weaver's place supporting, Belle, biting hard on the inside of his cheek as the woman all but broke his good hand.

Weaver was surprised his hands didn't shake as he rolled up his shirt sleeves then removed his rings and bracelet reciting the prayers of old in his mind. Tilly was trying to soothe Belle as she screamed at the sudden contraction, and he scrubbed his hands harder, quickening his moves.

His mouth was dry as desert as he kneeled between his wife's knees. He let out a shaky breath, smiling encouragingly. She tried to smile back, but the upcoming contraction stopped her, making her cry out instead, whipping the smile from his face.

"Belle, you need to push. Come on, sweetheart. That's it! On three now. One-Two-Push!"

The whole ordeal couldn't take more than minutes, but it could as well be hours. Belle's screams were tearing his soul apart. If he could take away her pain and make it his, he would do so in a heartbeat.

The moment his daughter, this small treasure, fell into his waiting hands, the whole world stopped. For a second, she made no sound, making it the worst second of his life, but then her small lungs filled with air, and she opened her mouth in a loud wail. He was dimly aware of Tilly binding the umbilical cord with a shoelace and whipping his baby's face with a wet cloth, but all he could think of was that his little girl was alright.

Weaver was laughing and crying as his hands shook, and his heart might have burst.

"Look, Charlie, it's your mama."

Belle was crying too. She was sweaty and exhausted, but she couldn't be more beautiful as in the moment he rested their daughter on her chest.

"She has your eyes," she choked out while running her thumb over the baby's cheek.

"Yeah, and your chin. God, I love your chin."

He was mumbling and shaking like a mess, kissing his wife, his fingers twisted in her hair while Tilly wrapped a blanket around their little one.

"I love both of you so much," he choked out.

Belle twisted a little and planted a soft kiss against his lips, smiling lovingly.

"I love you too, my brave midwife."

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #rumbelle fic #woven beauty fic #Round One entry #author: Orion

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kprciffdw · 3 years

Text

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Part 23

They eventually arrived at the final planet: Yeedil. As soon as they landed and got out of this ship, they stood by and stared out at the massive Megacorp building that sat underneath a black sky. Kim: "So this is it, the Megacorp Protopet Factory." Ron: "Huh, you know something? This place pretty much screams "Typical Bad Guy Lair", wouldn't you think?" Kim: "Hm…you do make a good point. It does look ominous, almost like this whole mission." Ratchet: "I'm sorry, you guys, I had no way of knowing this was all a terrible idea from the start." Kim: "Don't worry about it, Ratchet; it didn't seem that way to me, either. Although, there was something that struck me as a bit fishy during the beginning, it wasn't enough to confirm anything."

Ratchet smiled, then looked back at the facility with a serious look on his face. Ratchet: "Hm, it seems kind of wrong to raid a corporate factory, but after everything they've put us through, they had it coming. Who else here also wants to get even with this company?" Kim: "I am so there. No one messes with my friends and gets away with it, especially after what they did to you, Ratchet."

Ratchet smiled again. Just then, the Kimmunicator went off, Kim pulled it out immediately. Kim: "Yeah, Wade?" Wade: "Kim, I have 2 things for you. First off, I've located the last piece of your dad's space shuttle; it's directly inside that factory building." Kim: "Well, how about that? The final piece is just inside the belly of the beast." Ron: "And in the possession of Megacorp's beloved CEO, no doubt." Wade: "I would think so, too. Secondly, I just built another device for you guys. I'll transport it now."

Wade's vendor appeared again. Transporting from it was a small device. Kim grabbed it and observed it. Wade: "It's a disrupter device. I built it from studying that crystal you found in that icy tunnel. That Megacorp factory is loaded with some of the toughest, most advanced security system in the galaxy. This should at least disrupt a lot of their most detrimental ones." Kim: "Hm…sounds as though we'll be needing this to infiltrate that factory. Thanks, Wade, you rock hardcore."

Wade smiled before Kim put away the Kimmunicator. Ratchet: "Seems like we both have our reasons for needing to break into the factory." Kim: "Not really. Believe it or not, that last piece is not my main reason. Mr. Fizzwidget took advantage of you; he used you like a tool and tried to dispose of you when he didn't need you anymore. Elder or not, that geezer is going down just because of that."

Ratchet smiled at her, then looked towards Ron and Clank as well as Kim. Ratchet: "Alright, guys. Let's do it."

They rushed towards the factory as fast as they could.

Getting to the front door has proven to be very difficult. They was a very large gap that separated them from the factory entrance. In fact, it separated them from the entire facility. Thankfully, Kim and Ratchet provided the perfect solution to that problem with the use of their own grappling gadgets. They used them to get themselves as well as Ron and Clank across the gap. However, they wound up in the middle of a robot barrage and one that they couldn't escape from, so they were forced to fight through the barrage. It was an excruciatingly, tough fight and it lasted for an extensive amount of time. They were nearly exhausted just trying to get through, but they eventually eradicated the entire barrage. Ron: "Man! If that was the welcoming committee, I'd hate to see what's waiting for us inside that building!" Kim: "So do I, but just think of how much worse it would be without that disrupter Wade gave us. I've noticed a lot of the other forms of machinery here." Clank: "Yes, I have noticed that, too, Miss Possible. That would be the exact security system that Wade mentioned would have been detrimental to us." Kim: "Well, if that's true, then good thing he gave us this disrupter or else we would be in for a real tough fight." Ratchet: "You took the words out of my mouth, Kimberly. In any case, we have to keep going." Clank: "Yes, we must keep at it; we have come too far to back out of this now and there is too much at stake." Ron: "For once, I agree on that. These guys have pushed us too far and have caused too much carnage to the good people of this galaxy. Let's trash this place and teach these corporate marauders a lesson they'll never forget!" Ratchet: "You said it, Ron." Kim: "I just hope Angela is doing OK. She probably has it really tough handling those orbital defenses." Ratchet: "I'm worried about her, too, but we can't think about her right now. We have to stay focused on the task at hand." Kim: "You're right. She would want us to keep going and not waste any time worrying for her. Let's just go, I would be sure that she'll catch up with us sooner or later."

They rushed into the facility. The second they set foot into the front door, they've come across one tough fight after another. Everywhere they looked, there were robots attempting to stop them. They were incredibly vicious, and they came by the boat loads, but the group was able to fight through them regardless of how tough it was. It had indeed been their toughest fight yet as the robots had been shown to be extremely formidable, but thankfully, so was the group.

Despite all of that, they were content with seeing that the robots were the only line of defense active at the time. They could see all around them a lot of the advanced security systems, knowing what they would have been up against if not for Wade's disrupter device. The entire facility was a very long stretch, it was a vast and difficult trek, especially with all of the constant battles making the trek seem longer, not to mention that they made things a lot tougher. However, they were shown that they could really hold their own in all of it. Even Ron was actually pulling is own weight in all of this, instead of running away screaming like he usually does. You could really tell that he had a serious agenda as it was the same with the rest of the group. Rufus was also very dedicated to doing his part for the team. A few times, when he was needed to handle a few small tasks that needed to be done, he help out the team the best of his skills and had felt very proud of himself for getting each and every task done. The team couldn't possibly think of anything more they could ever need from the little guy.

Within much time, they came very close to the end. Kim: "Wade, how much further to the Protopet Duplication Chamber?" Wade: "You're almost there, just keep on the path you're going then take the next left and you're free and clear." Kim: "Got it! Thanks, Wade."

They kept on the trek. It was a bit long from there, but soon enough, they were able to reach a large door. Wade: "OK, guys, the Protopet Duplication Chamber should be on the other side of that door. Just use that ID badge and you should be good to go."

Angela eventually rushed in, panting from exhaustion. Angela: "I'm sorry I'm late. I had some trouble with the guards." Kim: "Actually, you couldn't have come at a better time." Ron: "Alright, let's crack that bad boy open and end this Protopet madness."

Just then, the female robot from a while back arrived, waving her arms to tell them no as though she had something important to say. Ron: "Uh, what's with this girl robot?" Clank: "She is trying to tell us something."

Her head opened up from her mouth, revealing a screen. On the screen was a footage of Captain Qwark selling Personal Hygenators in one of the worst disguises ever, announcing that he has sold 1 million Hygenators and planned to finance his comeback by heading for another galaxy and rescue it from a potential threat. He then laughed manically.

Just then, Mr. Fizzwidget, who showed up with several guard bots, severely shocked the female robot, startling the entire group. Ron: "OH, SNAP!" Kim: "What the…?" Ratchet: "Oh, my gosh!" Clank: "What do you think you are doing?" Angela: "Mr. Fizzwidget!"

They then watched him unzip himself in perhaps the most disturbing spot imaginable, which appalled them a lot. He revealed himself to be Captain Qwark. Kim: "Wait! What? What is…?" Ron: "Hey, you're that Qwark guy we saw on that…that show." Clank: "Oh, no, this is bad." Angela: "Alright, just what the flod is going on!?" Ratchet: "Angela!" Kim: "I believe I know exactly what this is; Captain Qwark over here has been masquerading as your beloved CEO to unleash this Protopet disaster and from what that female bot has just shown us, it's all part of his comeback scheme to make himself a hero again, right?" Qwark: "Gee, aren't you a smart little redhead girl? That's right, I'm about to save the galaxy from the Protopets and all of you have become my prime suspects…uh…whoever…some of you are…Guards, seize them."

Soon enough, the entire group was brought into the Duplication Chamber, where they were held at gunpoint by the guard bots. Qwark stood near the original Protopet. There was a camera in the chamber with them, pointed at Qwark. Qwark: "Smile. It's show time." Kim: "This is so the perfect time to be camera shy." Ron: "This is really bad." Qwark: "Ahem. Citizens of Bogon. I…am Captain Qwark. I have come to you in this, your darkest of hours to shine the Flashlight of Justice on your galaxy." Ratchet: "(laugh) Flashlight of Justice?"

He was knocked on the head by one of the guard bots' guns. Qwark: "As you all know, a living menace called the Protopet has been set loose in your galaxy. But fear not, Bogonites. For I, Captain Qwark, have caught the perpetrators."

The camera was pointed towards the group. Qwark: "Yes, good citizens. These are the masterminds behind Megacorp's…"

The camera shifted back to Qwark as he finished his sentence. Qwark: "Experiment with death." Kim: "Oh, so not."

She was bashed on the back of her shoulder with another one of the guard bots' guns. Qwark: "And now…"

He then pulled out a strange looking remote like device with 3 short wires sticking out of it, each with a transceiver at the very end. Qwark: "With this…uh…super…electro-gadget I invented, I will end the Protopet threat once and for all." Angela: "Hey! That's MY Helix-o-morph! I invented…"

She was hit on the stomach with another one of the guard bots' guns. Qwark: "Ahem. Stay tuned, dear viewers, as I amplify the signal from this Helix-o-thingy and render every Protopet in the galaxy completely harmless. Now then, how do I…work this…thing? Let's see, there's this…and then…uh, I…do this… and then…uh…I…uh…how is this…?"

Kim whispered to Ratchet as she leaned in closer to him. Kim: "Yeah, this guy sounds exactly like someone who invented that device."

Ratchet giggled. Qwark: "Ah, yes, got it! Now then, allow me to demonstrate."

With a push of a button on the Helix-o-morph, he zapped the Protopet. Within a few seconds, the Protopet increased in size and morphed into a massive beast. It looked towards Qwark and gobbled him up whole. The guard bots became frightened and ran away, leaving the group as they looked up at the massive beast. Ron: "That would be so cool if it wasn't going to hurt us."

The beast then crashed through a nearby wall. Kim: "Uh, does that Helix-o-morph actually work?" Angela: "Uh…I'm sure it did; I tested it myself." Ron: "So, why did that device of yours turn the Protopet in a GIGANTIC MONSTER!?" Angela: "I don't know. I would have to look into what's wrong." Ratchet: "Well, Clank, Kimberly and I will try getting it back somehow. You wait here with Ron to figure out how we're going to fix it." Ron: "What? Are you seriously going to leave us here on the sidelines?" Ratchet: "Do you want to jump into there with that thing?"

Ron looked towards the vicious Protopet beast wondering around. A terrified look then grew on his face. Ron: "Uh…on second thought, I really don't mind standing on the sidelines." Angela: "Actually, we'll be doing some searching around the rest of the place for anything else important." Ratchet: "OK, works for me." Angela: "Ratchet, Kim, Clank, be careful." Clank: "Do not worry about us, we can handle ourselves just fine." Ratchet: "Come on, guys, let's bring down that beast and get back that Helix-o-morph." Kim: "I'm right behind you, Ratchet."

Ratchet, Kim and Clank rushed into the doorway to battle with the beast while Ron watched along with Angela.

#Kim Possible #Ratchet and Kim Possible Chronicles #Ratchet and Clank #Ratchet #Clank #Ron Stoppable #Rufus #Wade #Angela Cross #Mr. Fizzwidget #Captain Qwark #Protopets #Bogon Galaxy #Going Commando

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seblore · 3 years

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everyday i wake up and you still havent posted your evermore rant </3

there u go boo 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

GDBDNSKDJHHDDNDS GIRL................ ok so i very cleverly avoided ranking folklore because every song REALLY HIT and the whole album was just SO.. SO.. yeah. i can however rank miss evermore. i dont want to compare the two album i do not get the point in that. both give off really different vibes. now what i will say is with folklore, AS AN ALBUM, it is just a master masterpiece. The songs flowed amazingly with each other and really held you close the entire first listen. at least thats what I felt like <3 with evermore however, the individual songs are OMG!!! THERE IS LITERALLY NO SONG I DONT LIKE FROM ANY OF THE TWO ALBUMS. but as an album on the first listen i did feel a bit disconnected from evermore which didnt happen to me with folklore. why i think that might’ve happened is BECAUSE taylor is just so brilliant m8.... the MASSIVE contrasting emotions between the songs was too much for my little brain to handle.

Ok so now that’s out of the way dhsjsk time for rankings :) i have no idea where im going to put each song im just going to make it up as we go <3 ill ALSO give you my fave lyrics from each if I remember it <333 (oh and also you’ll notice marjorie isnt here. im sorry but i never listened to it after the first listen because it hits a little too close to home and i dont want to unpack all of that now im sorry! it is a beautiful song)

14. Closure: she popped off <3 she really said dont treat me like a situation that needs to be handled 💃🤙💯 a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics HOWEVER its the first song i couldnt connect with thus it’s down here BUT I STILL WOULD LISTEN TO IT ON REPEAT THO... the last in my ranking but still fucks 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ thats taylor swift 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

13. long story short: i have never been in a relationship ever BUT GODDAMN ‘pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips’ hdjsksksjjddjnBbdns jddd ubebs!:!?:?:$3&39383$hzjs WOAH.... and this bitch really summarized the full 2016 drama with long story short it was a bad time. HILARITY. yeah not much to say here tho this is just the ‘at least one mandatory song to shake your tits to on each ts album’ song of evermore <3 and always remember that if the shoe fits walk in it TILL YOUR HIGH HEELS BREAK WOOH ANDIFELLDOWNTHEPEDESTALRIGHTDOWNTHERA—

12: dorothea: making a lark of misery :D RENt free. i had to listen to ‘if youre tired of being known for who you know you know youll always know me’ 113 times to finally understand it tho 😐 some of us are stupid and illiterate have you ever thought about that miss swift???? anyways TINGTINGTINGINGINGING THE STARS IN YOUR EYES SHINED BRIGHTER IN TUPELO <33333 such an innocent feel good song I LOVE!!!!!

11. ivy: the goddamn here and the hush of mirrorball ARE THE REASON IM STILL ALIVE 😽 another lyrical masterclass <3 ‘id live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time’ IS2G!!!!!!!!!!! anyways what if you cheated on your husband with me and i cheated on my husband with you and my pain fit in the palm of your freezing hands 😳 JK JK 😅 unless...... 🤪😏 hdjsks yeah this song is magnificently cursed and i am in love with it 🧎‍♀️

10. tis the damn season: this song is august but the other side of the coin. august but four months later. AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE- THE HOLIDAYS LINGER LIKE A BAD PERFUMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... she sounds so pretty goshhh! ‘time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires NOW IM MISSING YOUR SMILE hear me out we could just ride around and the road not taken looks real good now’ is on repeat in my mind. and as always the bridge ::::::::::::::.............:::::::::::::: how does she do this everytime. ‘and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking’ 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ after every ts song i listen my expectations about true love grows exponentially and my chances of finding true love falls exponentially simultaneously ADIEU.

9. willow: she really took the invisible string quartet and put it in huh..................... FUCKED IN THE HEADDDDDDDDDDDDDD. what can i say <3 its just such a pretty song <3 hashtag gorgeous hashtag i cant say anything to its face. WRECK MY PLANS!!!!!! WRECK IT BITCH!!! ‘wait for the signal and ill meet you after dark’ LOVE STORY WHIPLASH. also mate i cant even focus on the song she looks SO GOOD in the music video i—

8. happiness: !!!! what can i say.... one of the best songs of the album hands down. lyrical masterpiece AND musically rich. she really logged into tumblr dot com and typed out ‘THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’ AND ‘THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOU’ ARE IDEAS THAT CAN COEXIST and logged off...... h8 her and her insanity. the one word i have to describe this song is: picturesque. tis a picturesque song <3 oh and dfbhhffcbhDDVHHTRSDVJK when i heard ‘i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you’ i audibly GASPED and then she says ‘no i didnt mean that sorry i cant see facts through all of my fury’................. i fell out of my chair. IT FELT LIKE AS IF SHE HEARD MY GASP AND TOLD ME SPECIFICALLY THAT NO SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT... anyways yeah. ill write an article one day named THE SWIFT DECEPTION OF TAYLOR about how she keeps writing songs with deceptive titles and this will be the opening case 😈🤙 also the fact that this is one of my faves and i put it in number 8 says a lot......

7. evermore: i havent recovered from ‘motion capture. put me in a bad light’. i mean come on the whole goddamn song is a lyrical masterpiece. ‘writing letters addressed to the fire’. IS SHE OK!????????????? i think tf not. beautiful song beautiful arrangement. iver sounded really good too. and lol lol rofl WOOFWOOFbarkbark ‘HEY DECEMBER GUESS IM FEELING UNMOORED’ unmoored definition from google dot com: no longer attached. she doesn’t go back to december anymore. about2 faint oml. long story short: i did not survive. THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE........ what i felt with this song is that she took the quarantine sadness we all felt at least once this year and made it into a masterpiece of a song. couldve been easily the top song on any album except this. no i will not elaborate <3

6. no body no crime: i cannot believe. she teased us with a musical number. this woman teased us with. a musical number. I THINK SHE IS WRITING A MUSICAL BUT I JUST CANT PROVE IT! when she wins that tony 16 years later call me prophetic xoxo. anyways yeah she literally wrote this to flex her storytelling abilities. send tweet 🐥

5. cowboy like me: YEEEHAWWW I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FULL SONG SOUNDS LIKE I JUST HAVE THE BRIDGE ON REPEAT!!!! OMFG!!! the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. AAAA!! ??? STFU. IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS MATE THE WAY ITS SUNG!!!!!!! GUT WRENCHING! the best bridge she has ever written musically. i cant stop listening to it. REALLYYY DID BELIEEEVE I WAS THE ONEEE. STORIESSS ABOUT WHEEEN YOU PASSSEDDD THROUGHH TOWN. y e l l. and then she hits me with ‘now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon.’ L ???? M !!!!! A $$$$$ O “”””” i had to pause it and sit there for 10 minutes to take in what i had just heard. case closed critical hit sustained yeedhawd.

4. tolerate it: i cried. the only reason it’s not 1 is because it hurt me too much. WHAT THE FUCK YOU MF YOU ASSUME IM FINE BUT WYD IF I BREAK FREE AND LEAVE US IN THE RUINS???? TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOV— m8 this physically hurts me everytime. if its all in my head TELL ME RN. aghhh aRghhhhhhh. pain. and lol she broke down sleep to its bare essentials ‘breathing with your eyes closed’.

3. ??? coney island: i know it’s a bit of a controversial top three but WHO CARES 🕴this is solely here for ‘AND IM SITTING ON A BENCH IN CONEY ISLAND wondering where did my BABYy GO’ im shaking. my bed is shaking. my body is shaking. my pupils are shaking. THE WAY SHE SINGS IT OH MY GOODNESS ME i have to lie down gimme a sec. ‘and if this is the long haul howd we get here so soon 😟’ SCREAM. and when i was hearing it for the first time and she said ‘sorry for not making you my centerfold’ i was like yeah and?? so what?? and then she hits me with ‘over and over’...... so she didnt make him/her/them her centerfold over and over !!!!!!! she is sorry she didnt do it over and over!!!!!! mannn.... the chorus.. i shall not speak. i am held at gunpoint i CANNOT SPEAK. the bridge tho dhdnsksksjsb I CAN SPEAK AND I SHALL SPEAK. BITCH WENT OFFFFFFFF. <3 this is the apology she deserved from her exes which she never got so she wrote it herself. podium. grey skies. birthday cake. ACCIDENT. im laughingggggggggggg <///3 and yeah so overall it is a really yummy song with yummy vocals and yummy arrangement 9/10 would recommend. also!! life lessons kids life lessons. disappointments? SIMPLY CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PRETEND YOU DO NOT SEE IT YAAAAAAAAAS

2. gold rush: ETHEREAL!!!!!! The last time i felt like this™️ whilst listening to a song was with mirrorball <3 the production of this song omg omg omg LOVE 💃 but what propelled it to number two status was the ‘i dont like slow motion double vision in ROSE BLUSH/ i dont like that falling feels like flying till the BONE CRUSH’ imagine how fucked in the head a person needs to be to rhyme rose blush with bone crush. yeah i have nothing more to say really this song is extremely gorgeous and ‘eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jumped in’ / ‘walk past quick brush’ ?:!:!&:8483 F A V E <33333 and the transition transmission transfusion from ‘... gray old tea cuz itll never be ᵍˡᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʷⁱⁿᵏˡⁱⁿᵍᵍᵍᵍ’ MADAME

1. champagne problems: are we surprised? ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED? when listening to new albums i normally listen to it at one go in order. i stick to that rule. HOWEVER after many years of my solid album listening self made rule tm i finally broke and immediately replayed this mf song after listening to it once. ‘you had a speech, youre speechless/ love slipped beyond your reaches’???? stfu???? VILE. PUNISHABLE. DEROGATORY. and welp the entire bridge ...... .... ........... what can i say. And the parallels to miss all too well??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???? your SISTER splashed out on the bottle- left my scarf there at your SISTER’s house 😐 she’ll patch up your tapestry that i SHRED- maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you TORE it all up 😐 your MOM’s ring in your pocket- your MOTHER’s telling stories bout you on the tee ball team 😐 November flush and your FLANNEL cure- PLAID shirt days and nights when you made me your own 😐 wHAT A SHAME SHE IS FUCKED IN THE HEAD IS2G........... and also why would she not rhyme POCKET with LOCKET?????? why with wallet???????????? slant rhyme why????????????? AND THE NOTE THIS MF SONG ENDS ON..... FUCKED IN THE HEAD

THATS IT. i really sat here and did this for the past 2 hours huh...... hhdjsms anyways LONG STORY SHORT: I HATE ONE INSANE WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT. GODSPEEED 🏃‍♀️

#obviously i have not listened to the two delux songs yet so yeah <3 #im sorry about this i have neither proofread this nor do i think this makes any sense </3 #also i just realized i swore alot in this.... its that kind of a year huh ;D #anyways tysm anon for your eagerness for MY rant on evermore <3 truly honored #have a great day ilyy #answered 🗣#evermore era

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themaybewoman · 4 years

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Whumptober2020: Day 3 – Held At Gunpoint

Fandom: Psych (2006) Characters: Juliet O’Hara, Sam (from Psych: The Movie) Ships: Shawn/Juliet (Shules) Universe: Prologue to Please Stay (so far away) (singleparent!AU)

TW: CHARACTER DEATH, Blood, Gunshots

[Read on AO3 here.]

Pier 39 during the day was a bustling scene of families hoping to score some candy. During the night, the feeling it possessed was that of a ghost town, boarded up shops and darkened strings of bulbs. Tonight, the ghostly surroundings served as the grounds of pursuit between two of SFPD’s finest and an alleged jewellery thief (alleged only in the sense that they had little evidence to go off of). Personally, Juliet’s instincts grew sharper with each passing second on the pier; innocent men simply didn’t run like that.

Two sets of sneakers thundered over the wooden planks, and Juliet had to muse again over the man’s stupidity. Running deeper along the pier? Despite its near-maze-like standard of pathways, it was still a dead end. Looking at the cop in her periphery, she could tell Sam echoed her sentiments by his body language alone. After years on the San Francisco force together, they – like any competent partnership – learned how to read each other. It served for better execution on the job. Trust was nothing to take lightly, something Sam understood just as much as she.

“This pier doesn’t lead to any docked boats, right?” she huffed coarsely to the side, without taking her eyes off the path ahead.

“Think so?” he replied. “Why?”

Juliet spared a subtle glance at him, about to follow through with her reasoning, when it dawned on him.

“You think?” he said.

“If this guy’s smart enough to pull off elaborate heists, why would he run into a known dead end?”

“Getaway plan,” summarised Sam. He hefted his gun a couple degrees higher.

A figure on one of the spanning bridges caught her eye. She noticed it raise a shadowy arm, and with gut-based recognition yelled,

“Split!”

Sam dove one way, Juliet the other, and between them speeding from a crack of gunfire whizzed a bullet.

Forcing herself back to her feet, Juliet scrambled around the left of a shacked up store front. She was vaguely aware of her partner running around the other side as her path lifted into a ramp. With the only sources of illumination being each cop’s torch and the waning gibbous in the sky, Juliet summoned all her previous years of sensory intuition as she advanced to the shooter’s position.

“Freeze!” a gruff voice commanded.

“I think you stole my line,” Juliet smirked, training her gun and torch in the direction of the voice. She caught a crisp, white button-up haphazardly tucked into khakis before trailing the beam of light to the man’s face. “Drop your weapon.”

“Or what?” the man taunted, but his efforts were undercut by the severe squint he was making. “You know I have a gun.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Juliet pointed out.

But the thief replied wordlessly by lifting his gun and training it her direction.

“Judging by where your holding your flashlight,” he mused, “your heart should be right…” The gun’s barrel bobbed some before settling in line with her sternum. “There?” It wasn’t entirely accurate of an estimate, but considering all angles, the damage could very much be fatal. Juliet’s heart leapt against her will. If this night had been planned for, she would be safe within a bulletproof vest. Except, she had been out shopping. There were paper bags, stuffed with carbs and fibre and vitamin C, in the backseat of her Volkswagen to prove it. She hadn’t thought she’d need a vest tonight, not when she’d promised her daughter a bedtime story.

In her periphery flashed the light from Sam’s torch. There was no way she could call out to him, but he was already following a flight of stairs to their position. All she had to do was stall for another minute at most.

“Okay, you got me,” she played. “I do have just one question, though: why’d you run up here? It’s pretty much a dead end.”

“Wrong turn?” he supplied. Juliet could hear the shrug in his voice.

“A guy who can plan three jewellery heists in a few months and escape with little evidence doesn’t really seem like the type of person who’d stick themselves in a corner this easily,” she mused. “Does he?”

“You’re right,” the thief said, “that kind of man wouldn’t.”

In the span of three seconds, from the height of success to the pit of dismay, her heart fell. A set up, she groaned internally.

“Where?” she barked.

“Like I’d tell you,” the decoy huffed.

“Put the gun down.”

“Ladies first.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hey!” called Sam, several paces from the scene but at least now on the same level. “Do what my partner says.”

Juliet’s grip on her gun eased somewhat with the presence of back up. Together, like they always did, they’d take down this disobedient facade and get to work tracking down the real criminals.

“Cooperate and we can cut a deal,” she offered but with an authoritative air.

Sam planted himself a couple paces behind the man, gun trained on his turned back. The thief spared only a tilt of his head in acknowledgement of the second detective’s presence. For someone caught in the crossfire, he emoted minimal stress. His hands barely trembled, not even the one threatening Juliet’s life.

“It’s not a bad deal, man,” Sam pressed.

The corona of Juliet’s torch beam caught his raised brow, and while she couldn’t signal anything back in fear of the middle man catching on, she trusted that their minds were working around the same concept.

“Sorry,” the decoy said, and Juliet just caught his finger squeeze the trigger.

Two gun shots coalesced into an earsplitting bang. The man’s knees thudded against the bridge planks, and his torso teetered before collapsing in Juliet’s direction. She tried to jump back in avoidance of his head, but her legs would not respond. Blood swelled over the once-pure white of his shirt.

A sharp burning dragged her gaze further down until her eyes rested on her grey sweater. A tuned gasp ripped from her throat.

Normally, seeing blood wasn’t an issue. In addition to her experience in the field, part of her time at the academy was in first aid. Yet seeing a stain of red spread across the fabric of her favourite shirt – so much so soon – made her sway where she stood.

Sam was immediately at her side, gun and torch dropped, gripping her shoulders. She sank to her knees anyway, guided safety by her partner’s strength.

A hand hovering over the wound, she muttered, “I think I need medical attention.”

“You think?” replied Sam with his signature dryness. “Hang in there, J, I’ll call. Hang on.”

There was scuffling against wood to be heard and soon the beginnings of a winded conversation, but Juliet barely paid attention to what was being said into the phone. She flattened a palm against her gut while feeling around the space with her other hand. Letting out a grunt, she heaved herself properly onto the floor and settled into a semi-comfortable sitting position, her back against one of the railing’s posts.

Each breath she attempted felt like a steamboat weighing on her lungs. Shallower breaths hurt less, so she opted for more of those to split the difference.

A warm presence crouched by her right again. A beam of light passed up and down her body before concentrating on the bloody mess beneath her fingers.

“Dammit, Juliet, why couldn’t you have gotten shot somewhere like your leg?” snarked Sam, voice shaking in either humour, dread, or both.

“I’ll try harder next time,” she chuckled back only to wince at her core’s movement.

“Help’s five minute’s away,” he informed. “We just gotta keep pressure on the wound until then.”

Juliet coughed before she could respond. She ended up just nodding instead of answering.

“Hang in there.”

“You said that already,” she pointed out, her voice growing raspy.

“I think it still applies here.”

Managing a hum and a little smile, Juliet shifted her fingers over the bullet hole. The pain was excruciating, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to make any sound above a grunt.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like a vacation,” she lied, although her sarcasm didn’t land as well as it usually did. Her brain was growing woozier with each second.

“That bad, huh,” he said, and within seconds she gave him the stickiest glare she could manage. “I know, dumb question, right?”

“S’okay.” She lifted her hand from the wound to grab at… something, anything. She was slipping away from the floor with every blink.

Her mind flew across town. She jerked forward, panic inciting another round of adrenaline. “Shawn… I need– I have to–!” She let out a shriek; the skin around her bullet hole tore with the strain.

“Whoa, Juliet! Stay– I call him, too! Just sit, okay?!” With the help of gravity and Sam’s guiding hands, she slipped backwards against the post. Her hand was pushed back down to her midriff and secured. The grip was comforting, but it felt wrong in too many ways for her to enjoy its little solace. She wanted Shawn’s hand.

“I’m... tired?”

She could barely hear her own voice.

“J, seriously needing you to hang on, right now! They should be here anytime.”

All Juliet could do was shake her head, yet events she did so, the sensation felt a million miles away. Someone else was shaking their head. Someone else was bleeding out on Pier 39. Meanwhile, she was fine, she was safe, she was wrapped up in a green snuggie and nestled in the arms of her lover. The torchlight was growing fainter, but her next breath came a little easier. Good night, she thought with a little smile, knowing that in the morning, she’d wake up to cuddles and sunshine.

Wouldn’t that be nice.

—

Written for @whumptober2020.

#whump #whumptober2020 #juliet o'hara #psych #tw: blood #tw: guns #juliet's partner sam #psych: the movie #lilly's whump #fanfiction #writing #whumptober day 3 #held at gunpoint #lilly's writing #shules #tw: character death #tw: death

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