#but like seriously tho do you really NEED a set of whisky glasses that have your hometown map etched into them. No. you don't.

[bruhgender]

it just occurred to me that middle class kids will never forget their parent's anniversary because they grow up with like. picture frames and cutting boards and christmas ornaments that have their parents wedding date custom-etched into them. And even if they do forget they won't ever have to go on a spy mission to find it out. source: every time I dogsit for a coworker I am literally surrounded by their wedding date

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

; good enough

© @pedropcl

lee bodecker x fem!reader.

summary. your father invited you to his birthday party and things ended badly.

words. about 2.3k.

warnings, tags. nsfw, +18!!! drunk state, language, unprotected sex, daddy!kink, very brief degradation, mention of bodily fluids, very brief mention of violence. and i think that's all.

a / n. first time writing for this man that has me obsessed, so i hope y'all like it! none of my writings contains reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. if you find something out of place, please send me a message and i'll change it.

You didn't want to be there, but it was your father's birthday and you couldn't miss it. More than thirty minutes had passed since the last time you saw your husband standing in a corner of the large living room, sipping from his glass of whisky and judging every guest around in silence. Lee hated your parents, your family, their friends. And you didn't blame him. Your family never accepted him, always repeating that he wasn't good enough for you, nor your interests. Except for your mom. She wasn't the only one who didn't treat him like dirt.

Once that you escaped from your father's arms, showing you as a trophy and trying to set you up on a date with one of his best friend's sons, you stepped out of the house to the back garden. It was cold outside, having to close your jacket around your chest as you closed both arms over it. Following the footprints on the grass, you reached the improvised parking where different cars were stationed. The smoke coming from nowhere called your attention, glimpsing Lee sitting on the hood of his black Ford. Cigarette in his left hand and bottle of whisky in his right.

You doubted for a second to interrupt his moment of peace for the first time in two weeks. Two long weeks where you barely had spent time together. He started holding over his shifts because, apparently, there was too much paperwork to attend. You couldn't help but think that he was raving mad about you, or about something you did unconsciously. But the real problem was that your husband never used to talk about his feelings or what was going in his mind.

“I think you've drunk enough”. You uttered watching him raise the bottle to his lips.

Lee chuckled ironically, shaking his head. “Lucky me I don' care”.

Frowning and with your mouth pressed closed, you walked towards his position to face him. He had never talked to you like that, but he was being honest, shrugging his shoulders to point it out a little more.

“I do. I do care”.

“Don' worry, darlin'. I ain't gonna shame you in front of your family”. He scoffed bitterly, finally sipping from his drink. “Watya' doin' here anyway? Party's indoors”.

“You're here tho”.

“And who fuckin' cares, uh? You were having so much fun inside with that… pretty boy who works in Wall Street”. Your husband mocked taking a drag from his cigarette. “We should divorce, don' you think? So you coulda go with him to the big city, and don' be stuck in… How d'your father call it? Knockemshit. Stuck with a… fat sheriff of a shitty town”.

Lee didn't notice the tears blurring your gaze till he raised his face. The bitter smile curving his lips suddenly disappeared, putting his pale blue eyes away from you because it was too painful for him to watch you cry. Your husband gulped hardly, kissing his teeth as he threw the cigar somewhere on the ground. You couldn't believe he really wanted to divorce you, wrapping your heart with a suffocating sorrow that barely let you breathe. He was your life and, after three years together, he seemed to not give a shit about it sometimes.

“I ain' like them”. You whispered sniffing.

“Tha' doesn' change the fact that you don' deserve a man like me. Your father is right. 'M a fucking loser compared to anyone inside his damn house”.

You loved Lee with all your heart, soul, mind, body. He was everything you want in your existence —your life. So damn obsessed with his touch, his kisses, his smell of wind and leather, his smile, that beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. You refused to believe he was talking seriously.

“You should be there. I— Imma go home, tell your mo—”.

Before your husband could finish his goodbye, you interrupted him by slapping his face. He didn't see that coming and you'd never imagine yourself hitting him. But you needed it, seeming the only way to stop him from abandoning you there. He kept his face away from you, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His drunkenness suddenly disappeared, pressing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue whilst rubbing his hand over the reddened skin. You were so mad right now that you could set on fire the whole world.

And you were about to do it a second time when Lee caught your wrist in the air, painfully gripping his fingers around it to push you closer —chest against chest. Then, he raised his index finger. “Don' you fuckin' dare to try it again, y'hear me?”

You were furiously breathing, but not filling your lungs with air in reality, keeping your eyes on the blue ones that used to steal your heart every single day. It was like a contest of dominance you knew he always won. Any time.

Your husband didn't give you the chance to say sorry, slamming his lips on yours. A moan died in his tongue when it invaded your cavity while releasing your arm to fly his rough big hands to your ass, almost grabbing it all with his long fingers. Your digits went to the lapels of his leather jacket, not lasting too much there till finishing on the back of his head.

Lee was hungry for you, just like you were for him after two long weeks barely touching each other. Your husband devoured, sucked, and bit your lips, urging you to turn around enough to push you on top of the hood of his car. His hands pulled up the skirt of your dress, wanting to reach the waistband of your panties, receiving the great surprise that you weren't wearing any.

“You little dirty girl… Don' wantin' your Sheriff to lose time, uh?” He grunted with such an animal and eager tone, as he took care of the belt and the zip of his pants.

“I need you”. You sobbed against his lips, feeling his hands maneuvering between your legs.

At least, you were fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand when Lee rammed his rock dick into your soaked cunt, drowning in your palm a loud cry of pure satisfaction for being filled by your husband. Back and forth, he hit your body once and once, impaling you against the Ford still being furious by the way your father and friends treated him as if it was your fault. Lee was mad, really mad, digging his fingers in your hips to pin you on place and don't move, continuing fucking you harder and harder —challenging you to not be able to be quiet and make everybody heard how good he used to made you feel.

“Goddammit… you're so damn ti— tight, baby doll… So tight fo— for your daddy, ain' ya?”

“Yes… Yes, daddy”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

His strong scent filling your lungs caused you to roll your eyes white, letting your soul leave your body while his cock attacked fiercely your pussy with no mercy. Your vocals were in sync with the screeching noise the car produced in every thrust straight to your guts. The pace was insane, intense than never before, and more pleasurable than you could imagine in your life.

Lee was aware how much you loved him, that you felt devotion for him. But sometimes —sometimes like those— he couldn't help but think he could lose you as soon as you realized who he was in reality. You didn't care. You weren't blind. You knew about his dirty laundry, his past, his sister (...). And you still wanted him with all your heart and body.

“Fu— Fuck, gonna put a… baby inside you”. He growled, wrapping his right around your throat to urge you to face him. “Y'want it, uh? D'you want dad— daddy to put a baby in that… beautiful belly?”

“Yes… please, Lee”. You whined with teary eyes, being too much pleasure for your body to handle. “Please, daddy… I wa— want you to… get me pre— pregnant with your child”.

Your husband's lips curved up in a petty smirk, pulling out from your dripping cunt, causing you to sob in disappointment. Lee managed to put you down on your shaky feet to turn you and force you to bend over the hood of his car. Ass upped, legs spread. He only took a second to stare at your glistening and abused folds in your arousal, prior to impaling you again. With a hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your head, your husband obligated you to arch your back as he continued banging your anatomy once and again.

At this point, you had forgotten your name, where you are, and if someone could hear how you cried pleased any time he crashed against your g-spot. It was a mix of pleasure and pain as Lee wasn't having any kind of compassion with your cunt, clenching unconsciously around his hard length. He knew then how close you were to cumming for him —because of him—, increasing the pace while you tried to find a place to put your hands on and find some balance to stay in place. As soon as the hand tangled in your hair landed back to your throat, you gripped five fingers around his wrist, enjoying the brief lack of air because of it.

“C'mon, my swe— sweet whore… Y'wanna cum for daddy, don't ya?”

His raspy and wrecked voice fell into your ear like an angelic melody, not being able to hold your moans anymore within your mouth. The knot inside your lower belly was bigger and bigger and suffocating, feeling how it could explode at any time. Lee shoved his cock non-stopping producing a sloppy obscene sound when his pelvis crashed against your ass, along the chink of his belt against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy… Daddy…” You called him while the tears started to fall again through your cheeks, this time, of absolute satisfaction.

You couldn't help but bite your lip strongly till the metallic taste of blood covered your tongue, letting yourself go as the knot bursted within your belly. The orgasm threw you above the edge with your husband's palm covering your mouth to not be heard or it would be really awkward to be caught by all the guests, even if he didn't care. He wouldn't mind showing that pretty boy from New York that nobody could fuck his little dirty girl better than himself. Oh, how funny it would be to see his face while your husband was ramming his cock into your abused pussy, cumming inside your tight walls, digging his teeth in your neck to mark his territory.

Lee came with a sensual and passionate hoarse gasp causing you goosebumps bristling your skin, burying himself balls deep to hold it inside the mix of your juices filling up your center. It felt like being in Heaven, although you weren't sure if you could walk after such an intense quickly, feeling your walls burning as his dick still twitching and stretching your cunt.

Your husband wasn't a man of kisses after sex, that's why he surprised you when tilted your face to his and pressed his lips on yours, panting, not caring about the lack of breath. It wasn't a lustful kiss either, more than a tender and fondly one, tasting your mouth, playing with your tongue.

Pulling out his semi-erection, Lee helped you to clean yourself with a tissue before using it to clean your arousal on him and toss it to the ground. As he put on his pants, you fixed your dress and your hair, turning around.

“You meant it?” You dared to ask, still having sorrow covering your voice. “Gettin' divorced… You mean it?”

“What?” He inquired, squinting confusedly until he realized what you were talking about. He chuckled holding your chin with two fingers. “You married me, darlin'. There's no other way you're gonna spend your life but with me. Willingly or not, you hear me?”

Lee raised both eyebrows very sure of his word before you nodded your head with a fleeting smile crossing your lips.

“Can we go home now…?”

“'S that what you want?”

You nodded your head a second time, while your husband placed his arms around you with hidden possessiveness to guide you back to your childhood's house. And of course, your father was enraged when you told him that you were leaving with your husband. He yelled at you and nobody tried to stop him till the moment he had the brilliant idea of pretending to lay a hand on you.

Lee punched him. Lee broke his nose. Lee made your father fall to the floor between the pretty boy's arms. And Lee never felt better in his whole damn life.

“Don't you ever come back to this house, if you leave now with this… bastard”.

“She doesn' need you”. Your husband cooed wrapping your neck with an arm, leaning slightly to borrow your purse. “Ma'am, my pleasure a see ya' again. The beef was delicious. G'night”.

You were yet processing what just happened, ashamed of the desire for your husband himself awakened inside you after watching him hitting your father. Lee could be a total asshole sometimes but one thing was undeniable: he loved you with all his heart and soul, he was obsessed with you since the very first time his oceanic eyes contemplated you walking down the street, smelling a bucket of roses you bought for yourself.

Never again you knew anything about your family. Not even when your son, called after your husband, was born. But you weren't sad. As Lee said, you didn't need them. You had your own family to take care of.

feedback is appreciated. if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment so i can know your opinion. reblogs are needed.

permanent tag list. @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame124 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell

[positivelyamazonian]

Asky Lulu back again! How much space is given to Lara's and Kurtis' approach to alcohol in your headcon? Core planned to make Lara an alcoholic after the events in Egypt. It's one of the few things I don't agree with them about. Yes, she's deeply depressed/hurt and a bottle of sth may seem to be the only solution; and she's too proud to seek professional help. BUT Lara is smart enough to know it's only temporary. I see your Kurtis more prone to alcoholism than Lara, to be honest...Thank you💗

Hi Lulu! :) Well, it’s always a pleasure to answer your well-thought, researched asks. Though you’ve already read chapter 2 from The Legacy and a glimpse of my idea concerning this is hinted here, it will be a honor to develop this a little more for you! :)

First time I read about Core’s idea of making Lara an alcoholic after the events of Egypt, I rejected it immediately. I didn’t like it. Lara had been always to me like the prototype of strong woman, and - in general, this is not an universal statement - people who drinks excessively tries to drown their sorrows in alcohol to avoid facing their reality. They are weak, and Lara’s not weak. 

Then, after a while, I realized it wasn’t totally a bad idea. I like to see human beings in all their perfection and flaws, the complexity of the human psyche. I just love that. They were trying to make her more human - tho I think she was already human in some ways - so that’s why I don’t think people who have called her an “ice queen” have the slighest idea of what they’re talking about.

In the end, Core discarded the idea and I’m glad they did, for it was too extreme. For her, I mean, not for other kind of character. But she’s always been strong, she’s always being in-control of herself, and ok, I might accept she can take a drink or two when feeling a bit down, but not to the point of becoming an alcoholic. That marks a person per-life - even if you overcame the addiction, it will always be a delicate matter to you. You’ll try to avoid it forever. Seeing a glass or a bottle with alcohol will be always a painful memory, a constant temptation.

Not very Croftish. I’m glad they throw aside that idea, and that’s why I threw it aside too. My Lara’s not an alcoholic, she’s never been that. She might have drunk a little after Egypt, but not to the point of developing an addiction. If she didn’t drink after crashing into the Himalaya’s and being the only survivor, while would she do that now? Just, nah. Her way of escaping things is adventuring, and after Egypt, she might have drink more than usual, and hide herself from the world in her home, but nothing more. The Lara we met in TRAOD is not a drunk. She’s perfectly fine, she even trades with alcohol bottles through the Parisian guetto without taking a sip - correct me if I’m mistaken, but you can’t become an alcoholic and then in only two years grab a bottle and not feeling the slighest temptation of taking a sip. At least, it doesn’t sound logical to me, much less in Lara’s case.

And I can’t agree you more concerning the fact she’s too proud for seeking professional help. She wouldn’t. This is 100% Croft. Bravo. Thats why I laughed my ass when seeing Laraboot going to that psychiatrist btw

Other idea was hinted is that, in a rage or amidst a drunk crisis, she sets fire to Croft Manor. I hated this idea even more than the first one, and I’m glad they discarded it, and so I did. My Lara has never set fire to Croft Manor. It’s her home. She’s not uncomfortable there - “Welcome back to my humble abode” -, tho she prefers, obviously, to be somewhere else, adventuring. 

It’s also Winston’s home, and the home of each one of her friends that might need to stop by for a while - and in my universe, it’s also Anna’s home, and even Kurtis’ home tho he doesn’t feel like he belongs there. Lara would never do that, specially for Winston, who’s taking care of the place while she’s travelling. Setting her aunt’s inheritance and Winston’s daily hard work on fire… no, just no. She won’t reach that limit. I rather see her injuring herself before injuring others, specially those who worried about her when her parents disowned her.

So in the end, Lara might have drunk a bit more than usual in her past, but she’s not an alcoholic and she’s not enthusiastic about alcohol. And here comes the headcanon: she will pretty much despise alcoholics - when not directly pity them. For her, alcohol is a resource for cowards, for people who doesn’t know how to face their problems. It’s a cruel approach, but I think seriously it will be hers. It’s Lara Croft. She can be really cruel and merciless, and in this case, she is.

Not that she thinks she is better for not being dependant of alcohol, of course. Not that she totally rejects it. It’s just, it’s not a healthy habit and she prefers to avoid unhealthy habits, tho she’ll drink in certain occasions if the circumstances requires it. But not against her own will or desire, of course.

Shelooked down at the champagne glass, still half full. In Dubai shariawas strict: no alcohol, but these laws weren’t made for foreigners andcertainly not for the hotels where they were entertained. Still, she had nodesire to drink. In fact, all she wanted was to get out of there.

- MR. VANCE RENNER, Tomb Raider One-shot 3

Now, what about Kurtis? He’s absolutely different to Lara. He’s been through serious shit during all his life - that doesn’t mean Lara hasn’t, but she has a different way to face things. Not Kurtis. He’ll drink. A lot.

Murti never mentioned something like this but he describes him as a “tough customer”. After knowing a little about his biography - the son of a Lux Veritatis and a Navajo woman, harshly trained in the ways of the Order - you can only imagine how much suffering that training could have meant to him, and how sick he got of the Shadow War, so that he decides to betray his people and run away… to seek refuge in the Foreign Legion. The freaking Foreing Legion, which is reputed to be one of the harshest armies in the world, with a really brutal training, composed by ex-convicts and criminals who seek to have their reports expunged, turning their former crimes into military services. A living hell. And he went in there being only 19 years old. Wow.

Of course he only stays there until he achieves French citizenship, then he quits. But even in there he’s chased by demons, to the point his own partners nickname him Demon Hunter after he fights a defeats a djinn in the Arabian desert. This is all Murti’s canon, not mine. It is there when my own headcanon starts.

Taking into account his background story - a warrior, a soldier, a Legionnaire, a hardened fighter - I wanted to develop Kurtis as a tragic character, a tortured soul. Being alcoholic suited him perfectly after that. My idea is that he drank - and drank a lot - during his years in the Legion, together with his partners, and he even won drinking competitions. It’s there when Kurtis develops a tolerance for alcohol. He might haven been punished by his superiors for drinking too much and not be in top form for the military service - and hell, in the Foreing Legion punishments are harsh, even to the point of physical injure, but, what’s that compared with his Lux Veritatis training?

He can take it, and he takes it. After winning several drinking contest, instead of dying of alcohol intoxication or turning his liver into a can of foie gras, he develops an extreme tolerance for alcohol. Just like Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, by the way.

This is one of my earliest headcanons, if you remember :) He even uses his alcohol tolerance as a resource to get information, according to his will of always keeping a low profile, his past as a double agent and his choice of not using violence is he can achieve something in a more discreet way.

In fact, Kurtis still had his first glass half full while his partnerwas on his twelfth. He’d only wet his lips twice. “I can’t overdo.” He replied with a calm smile.“I recently had stomach surgery and shouldn’t be playing with this.”

At least, that wasn’t a lie. In fact, he had really good alcohol tolerance - when the fellow right there wouldbe on the floor Kurtis would feel onlya slight tingling; but it wasn’t time to get drunk, not even to sound moreconvincing.

- THE GOLDEN SEAL, chapter 17, This man will survive

So, we can say Kurtis does not become a drunk in the strict sense of the word - he could have not survived too long to that, no matter the Gift - but he obviously will drink without problem most of the time, and of course, he’ll totally drink when feeling down and depressed.

And I mean, really down and really depressed, for he will need a lot of alcohol to really lost conciousness. And he won’t achieve  it most of the times - unless he intends to make his own liver explode. And as we said previosuly, he has not a suicide impulse. He just wants to fade away. For a while. To drown his sorrows with alcohol. 

That’s why he has a different approach of alcohol that Lara has - he’s no problem with it, and he doesn’t exactly  despise drunk people - he pities them at most, and they will remind him of himself most of the time. 

Of course, I’ve always meaning high-grade beverages, and he will only resource to them in extreme situations. If you recall Café Metro, what was he drinking in there?

Exactly. He’s drinking red wine, as far as I know, provided he’d ordered it and it’s not just a tempation dropped there by Pierre, lmao.

I am not an expert in alcoholic beverages - you know I don’t usually drink and when I do, I easily get drunk at the first shot lmao - but I think it takes a bit of taste to prefer red wine over whisky - for example. He’s just there enjoying a glass of French red wine - isn’t that cute, please - because it’s duty day. He’s not renouncing to a bit of alcohol, but definitely he’s not drinking bourbon or something like that.

Ok, this answer is again long af, isn’t it? Time to shut up. Just, long story short: no, Lara’s not and has never been an alcoholic, she might have drink a little more than usual in the past, but definitely that didn’t leave a mark in her. She’ll pretty much despise alcohol as a way of solving things. She’ll have her own ways to deal with problems.

Kurtis, on the opposite, while not being a drunk in the strict sense of the word, has drunk a lot in the past, to he point of developing alcohol tolerance. Most of the time, he’s in control, except when having a disturbing experience or feeling particularly weak, down and depressed. 

But, what is a disturbing experience for a war hero, a lonely wolf who has dealt all his life with disturbing, disgusting and unpleasant situations? Obviously, every person, no matter how tough, has their limits and their buttons to be pushed. And he’ll react badly if having his feelings hurt or his soft spots touched. That’s why he used to conceal those feelings from everyone.

Of course, there’s a single exception for that rule, and this person can really push his buttons. And this is all I can say, for now.

Enough of this. Ana out