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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

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F**k and Run

Inspired by the Liz Phair song of the same name. Such angst.

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC

Word count: 2,636

Content advisory: sexual references

I woke up alarmed/ I didn’t know where I was at first/ just that I woke up in your arms/ and almost immediately I felt sorry

This. Is. Not. Your. Room. It is not your bed. These are not your sheets. And that odd ochre shade of paint on the wall that greets you when you open your eyes, a color that seems like a projection of the hangover you’re feeling, is most definitely not your choice of decor. You can tell by the light streaming in from somewhere behind you that it’s morning but outside, someone is blaring WAP. That can’t be endearing them to the neighbors, whoever they are, and it’s certainly not making you feel any better because thinking about moving, bouncing, riding… It’s not what you want right now.

You can tell, though, that it was exactly what you were doing a few hours ago. You have all the pleasant aches that come from a lusty romp and as you cast your mind back, you realize that you’ve been in this room with its bright morning light and ugly paint before. You don’t need to roll over to confirm the identity of the warm body pressed close to yours because you can feel the fragments of the night shaking loose. This is a very mixed blessing.

You’d met up with Susan after you’d both gotten off work and headed to the Canopy Bar. No, under the circumstances, it wasn’t a great idea to hit a bar filled with people, many of whom were tourists and almost none of whom were wearing masks, but it had been ages since either of you had gone out and it was like your bones were aching for it. Besides, the hotel was miserable, with clients getting angry at having to sanitize hands and wear masks, while others got mad because the restaurant didn’t require people to have masks on while they ate. You and Susan had gotten your first vaccine and even though you knew you were supposed to wait until you got the second before re-entering the social world, impatience and youthful stupidity had taken over.

So the two of you ditched your work clothes and headed down the beach to the covered open-air bar that always seemed to mean a good time. They had heaters at the tables to disguise the fact that it was not exactly beach weather but after a couple of cocktails, it might as well have been the 4th of July.

You feel the body behind you shift a little, his face close to your hair. He gives a contented little sigh and slides one arm over your hip. His fingers press against a tender spot that you assume he made the night before, when he’d been digging into your flesh so hard, slamming into you as you rode him, that you thought he might break the skin. He’s still half asleep. At least half. When he wakes up, it’s going to be a different thing.

Kenny. You don’t need to look at him to picture that deceptively angelic face with its sparkling blue eyes, or his body that looks like it descended from Mount Olympus. And you certainly don’t need help remembering his name, which is more than you can say for him, which is, funnily enough, the thing that started the chain of events that ended with you back here again.

You’d spotted him with some friends at the bar, which seemed strange because you remembered from the first time you met him that he wasn’t a drinker. Like, at all. But he was clearly relaxed and enjoying himself, enjoying how he was so obviously the center of attention at his table, and in particular that he was the focus of a very beautiful, elegant woman seated directly across from him. One look and you knew he was on the make and you felt the bile rise in your throat because as far as you were concerned, you hadn’t finished the cycle of things between the two of you. There wasn’t actually anything sustained between the two of you, of course, but it definitely felt like there was something unfinished.

Whatever happened to a boyfriend?/ The kind of guy who tries to win you over/ Whatever happened to a boyfriend?/ The kind of guy who makes love ‘cause he’s in it

You’d met Kenny a little over a month ago at The Canopy Bar and the two of you had ended up going back to his place. And it had been good. Damn, it had been good. He’d been effusive with his praise and compliments and he’d been sweet as the two of you drifted off to sleep. When you’d woken up, he’d taken you to get coffee from a pick up wagon and the two of you had hung out and chatted about pet stories and his time in Japan, a place you’d dreamed about visiting for years.

Had you been thinking “relationship”? No. But it didn’t feel like a one night stand and god knows you’d gone through enough of those in the past couple of years to judge. You’d texted him a day or two later and suggested meeting up for a coffee at a place you liked and he’d responded within a couple of hours that he’d like that. You’d ended up setting a non-date date for the following week, which turned into you sitting at an outside table at the cafe for three hours. You’d tried texting and calling and had heard nothing. After about half an hour, you’d realized that you should leave and get on with the process of feeling resentful at being stood up. But you’d lingered because it didn’t feel like things were over. It felt like the night you’d spent together had been something a little bit special.

Of course, you hadn’t been so sad as to keep trying to contact him after he stood you up, but you felt the memory of what had happened sticking to you like nettles. You just hadn’t had the opportunity to do anything about it last night and what you’d done about it, powered by a few stiff cocktails and a sense of indignation was march up and sit down next to him.

“Well look who’s here,” you sneered, wanting him to know that he had some making up to do. “What the hell was with you no-showing?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” he shrugged. “I was busy or something and I figured it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You know it’s considered polite to let someone know when you can’t make it to meet them.”

“Yeah, I guess that was shitty of me.” He gave a cheeky grin. “Sorry about that.”

He looked like he’s about to turn back to his friends and the doe-eyed beauty who looked a little too amused at how upset you obviously are, so you gripped his bicep to keep him focused on you.

“Seriously, what made you not show up? If you didn’t want to meet me, you could have just said so. Or you could have canceled.”

“I mean it, I’m sorry.”

He was infuriatingly nonchalant about this, which made you angrier than you had been when you came over. In fact, it seemed like he was getting a bit of a kick out of the fact that you were angry.

“This is Hikaru,” he said, motioning to the woman on the other side of the table. “Hikaru, this is… Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

You felt a surge of fury and humiliation mingled together, twisted with the fact that you could tell he was lying.

“Ha ha. You know my name.”

“No, really, I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten it.”

Even through your alcohol-fueled haze, you felt like you had a very clear grip on the moment. You could tell looking in his eyes that you were right: he knew perfectly well who you were and what your name was. But he was committed to the pretence that he didn’t. Maybe it was because he wanted to be left alone with this new girl. Maybe it was because you were making him nervous.

“Whatever,” you growled. “You can go fuck yourself.”

You made your way back to Susan and thought about running away with your tail between your legs but almost immediately dismissed the idea. To hell with that guy. You’d been having a good time before you saw him and you weren’t going to let him ruin that. You couldn’t start ceding public spaces to assholes. So you hit the dance floor with your friend and the two of you enjoyed the attention you generated, the eyes trailing over you, even the drunk college boys who tried their damnedest to be charming.

After a while, you were aware that someone was lurking nearby, close to you without trying to engage you, seemingly happy to dance by himself and lap up the attention he was getting. His friend Hikaru wasn’t with him, although you saw her a couple of times during the next couple of hours, always looking at him, always looking like she was waiting.

Finally, he was close enough that he leaned over and spoke directly into your ear.

“Guess I’m heading out. Thanks for the laugh, though, stranger.”

You whirled, half inclined to punch him in the nose.

“What the fuck is your problem? You think you can just be rude and act like that to me and it’s funny?”

“Ok, sorry, it was nice seeing you again.” He gave a little laugh and wiggled his eyebrows as he started to move away, his expression somehow inviting you to follow him.

Susan grabbed hold of your arm and tried to steer you away but you disconnected from her, assuring her that you just needed to say a few things to this jerk.

So you trailed after him, yelling some insults and waiting for him to hightail it. But every time you’d dragged your feet a little, he’d slowed down too.

“Ok,” he sighed as you stepped away from the bar and onto the beach, “you’re right, I remember your name. I was just being a shit.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Was that because you were trying to hit on Hikaru?”

“No. I think she has a bit of a thing for me.”

He started walking in the direction you remembered he lived in.

“You coming?” He called back, obviously loving how aggravated you were at his cockiness.

You almost felt bad/ you said that I should call you up/ but I knew much better than that

Finally, you roll over to look at him. He has his hand over his eyes to shield them from the light streaming in. The window is a semi-skylight built into the roof of the place. The light it gives is probably gorgeous when you’re not trying to sleep off a hangover. He gives you a tired smile without looking you in the eye and pulls you close to him for a few seconds.

“I have to get ready for work. Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

He sits up and as he does, it occurs to you that he’s actively avoiding looking at you, like you’re going to turn him to a pillar of salt or worse.

“It was cool seeing you again,” he says quietly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about the yelling and everything.”

“I deserved it.”

“Yes you did. But I’m sorry if it makes things awkward for you and your friends.”

You sit up, letting the bedcovers fall from your body as you survey the room for your hastily discarded clothes. Angry sex is disorderly sex and there are bits of you strewn around the place. It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s just standing at the top of the stairs leading down from his sleeping loft, watching you.

He makes as if he’s about to say something but it dies unspoken, so there’s just a long, strange look between you. And this time you’re absolutely certain that this does not feel like a one night stand, or a two night stand, for either of you. There’s an electricity that passes from his eyes to yours and back, the kind of thing that gives you butterflies in your stomach. The kind of thing that’s going to continue to bring butterflies when you think about it over the coming weeks or longer.

“I’m just gonna jump in the shower for a couple of minutes,” he says finally. “You want to have one?”

“No, I’m ok. I’ll just grab one at home.”

He nods and leaves and you wonder if you’re even supposed to be here when he gets back. You slowly gather up your belongings and get dressed, enjoying the little twinges you feel stretching your muscles out. Those make your stomach flip too.

You make your way downstairs, hoping that you can at least snag a cup of coffee before leaving but the second your feet hit the final few stairs to the ground floor, you wish you’d stayed in his room.

There are a few men milling around, a couple of guys with shaved heads and goatees, one of whom looks like a runaway extra from Sons of Anarchy. With them is an older, well-dressed man wearing sunglasses even though he’s in the house. You can’t decide if it’s just discomfort or if you genuinely dislike them at first sight. One thing is for certain, they seem unsurprised to see a woman appear from above.

“Hi,” you rasp, unsure if you’re supposed to introduce yourself or allow them to pretend you’re not there. It seems like they’d prefer the latter option. “Is there any coffee?”

“Yeah, kitchen,” the older man directs you thrusting his chin in the right direction.

You pour yourself a generous mug and decide that hiding out in the kitchen is the best plan for now. After a few minutes, you hear Kenny’s voice greeting the others, sounding just a little surprised that they’re there. They all seem boisterous and loud but you hear the voices drop for a second just before Kenny replies, “In the kitchen? Ok, just give me a minute.”

You gulp as much of your coffee as you can and square your shoulders so that you look more like someone who was just about to leave as he enters the room.

“Hey, sorry if they surprised you,” he offers sheepishly.

“No, it’s no problem. I helped myself to coffee, I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh, for sure. Take your time.”

“No, no, I was just leaving. I have a bunch of shit to do today.”

“Yeah, for sure, me too.” He pauses before giving you a quick hug, pulling back just at the moment that it feels he’s about to let himself melt into it. “So we should totally do that coffee date sometime.”

“Definitely. You know, whenever your schedule is…”

“For sure. I mean, I’ll call you.”

And as your awkward, staccato conversation stutters to a silence, your eyes meet again for a long moment and it’s like you’re both mourning for something that needn’t be as doomed as it is.

“Thanks for last night,” you tell him, as cheerfully as you can manage.

“Hey, thank you. It was great.”

He shows you to the door and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek as you step over the threshold. The gesture seems to hang in suspended animation, your faces pressed together and your lips resting on each other’s skin. But then the moment passes and it’s like the butterflies in your stomach rise and flutter away all at once into the bright morning sun.

I can feel it in my bones/ I’m gonna spend my whole life alone

#kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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loki-lover84 · 4 years

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Could Be Worse Part VI

A/N I know I haven’t updated in a while, I promise you though no matter what I’ll stick with this Fanfic until the very end, I hope you enjoy it. I mean Y/n and Dean’s relationship is now finally developing so you can’t knock that six parts and then it starts sorry about that I know not everyone is fond of gradual relationships in fanfics but yeah, I thought I’d try it just to see if I could.

Two weeks later

Y/d/n and I were still living in Camp Chitiqua with the Dean’s group of survivors. It wouldn’t have been fair on Dean to finally introduce him to his daughter and then take her away from him, I still haven’t come up with a way to tell her that Dean is her father yet every approach I try to make is always interrupted: last Wednesday we were outside and I’d just finished helping Cas with a task he seriously didn’t want to do when I crouched down in front of her brushed a strand of hair behind her small cold pinkish ear and said, “Hey Sweetie there’s something that I need to tell you okay, it’s very important and I want you to react like a big girl and trust mummy-” She nodded her head and braced herself for this important information I promised to tell her and Chuck ran over requesting my urgent assistance. Two days ago I sat her down in our cabin and prepared her once again I’d got even further “Hey Sweetie there’s something that I need to tell you okay, it’s very important and I want you to react like a big girl and trust mummy,” She nodded her head once again, “Dean is your-” and just like that Cas burst in requesting my help in the medical cabin.

Dean and I had avoided each other whenever we could, he no longer came by our cabin he’d make sure our shifts never lined up and we’d walk in the opposite direction to one another. It wasn’t always that easy though, Y/d/n always found him and wanted to be with him which lead to some slightly awkward encounters with one another. I don’t know why we’d started acting like this but for some reason it’s how we ended up.

This morning I woke up filled with determination today was the day I was going to tell my daughter exactly who her father is and then ask her if she wants us to stay permanently or if she wants us to leave, it’s only fair that she gets a say in it. My h/c haired little girl sat playing with a cuddly toy on the splintered wooden floor of our home that Dean had retrieved for her on the latest scavenge. I stood up and sat behind her brushing her silky hair softly as she played.

“Sweetheart, you remember when mummy wanted to tell you something very important?”

“Yes, it’s about Dean right?” She asked giddily as she cuddled the toy.

“Yeah it is about Dean but it’s also about you and me. So I’m your mum, well it turns out your dad is Dean.” “Dean’s my dad! Does that we’re a family?” She turned around her/ Dean’s beautiful green eyes shining up at me.

“Well-” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence when for the first time in a fortnight Dean barged into our home slightly out of breath his eyes wide.

“Dean!” Y/d/n cheered.

“Y/n I need to talk to you.” His eyes hardened on me.

“If you need to say anything to me you can say it in front of Y/d/n.” Dean held a brief debate in his head before inhaling deeply to calm himself down.

“I need to know whether or not you’re staying here!” Dean demanded.

“Of course we are, we’re family!” Y/d/n answered.

Aw bless your little cotton socks with your adorable childhood naivety my heart swelled with nothing but love for my our daughter’s naive hope.

Dean’s face flushed slightly and ran one of his hands down his face gripping his stubbled chin in the process. His enchanting eyes flicking between the two of us whilst he tried to think of what to say.

“Well I guess we’re staying if it’s not an issue, why did you need to know?” I asked curiously at the sudden intrusive outburst.

“Oh... well Chuck and Cas were saying that you and Y/d/n were going to leave tonight and I um...” Dean trailed off it honestly didn’t seem like he knew what he was going to say, he did however become more frustrated and grunted.

“I don’t know where they got that from but, I was going to ask Y/d/n what she’d prefer we do and well she’s clearly made up her mind.” I smiled up awkwardly at him.

“Right okay, glad we got that sorted then.” Dean said hurriedly as he turned to leave us alone and probably avoid me again..

“Daddy come sit with us!” My heart stopped how was he going to react to such a familial name so abruptly.

“Sure sweetheart, anything for you.” He flashed her a small smile before joining us on the floor.

“We’re a family now!” Our daughter giggled hugging both our knees together.

The rest of that morning was spent with Y/d/n telling Dean everything about anything she knew and reintroducing him to the cuddly toy he brought her. She spoke of Cas and Chuck and talked about characters I’d made up in order to tell her stories to entertain her and the songs I sang her to put her to sleep. It was as if the need for him to know everything about us was irrefutable whenever Y/d/n mentioned something even offhandedly he pressed for further information no matter what he just kept prying and she kept telling him. By the afternoon it was almost as if Dean had known us, me for years but Y/d/n her entire life. Like he’d been with us the entire time she grew up.

Without even realising it Dean and I had ended up shuffling closer to one another as we adjusted our sitting positions.

“You seriously did that? Why?” Dean laughed facing me.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds trust me she’s exaggerating!” I laughed whilst trying to defend my honour that my daughter had accidentally tarnished.

“She’s three!”

“Yeah I’m only three!” Y/d/n tittered hands on her hips standing proud, fully aware Dean had taken her side.

“Yes but you’re a very smart three year old aren’t ya.”

“You got that right.” Dean says his dazzling smile almost blinding as he tickles her, “So what’s your excuse?”

“Right...no, listen right so I gave her the last of anything we could use to substitute for toilet paper so I was being nice but, I needed to wipe too! What would you have done?” I wheezed defensively.

“I probably would have used literally any other plant than stinging nettles.”

We proceeded to laugh at my horrible choice and exchange a couple of other references that we shared earlier when once again the door opened. In a split second Dean composed himself and straightened his shoulders but remained seated next to me with our daughter stood in front of us.

“Y/n- oh hi Dean, didn’t expect to see you here. Is this a bad time?” Chuck asked his face and tone anxious but he gave off a vibe that screamed smug, secretly all knowing, bullshitter.

“No it’s fine, what’s up?” I asked smiling up at him.

“I was wondering if you could help cover a shift?”

“Who’s shift would she need to cover, today’s supposed to be her day off.” Dean interrogated as he stood up.

“Well I’d offered to help Cas out but that isn’t for another hour, I honestly don’t mind helping Dean.” I smiled reassuringly.

“Who’s shift is it Chuck?”

“Well it’s for tonight, Risa was hoping for the night off.” Chuck answered fiddling with his clipboard in the process.

“She had a night off two days ago, Y/n when was your last night off?”

“Last Saturday I think, I honestly don’t mind doing it though as long as I can tuck Y/d/n into bed I’m more than happy to do it.” I flash Dean a small smile before looking back up to Chuck. “Tell Risa she can have the night off.”

“No she can’t she can do her own job for once!” Dean snapped making sure his final decision wasn’t one to be argued or questioned, his volume and tone though caused Y/d/n to flinch.

“Please don’t yell daddy.” Her quiet voice cracked as she snivelled.

Dean’s eyes flashed to her his eyes softening and his eyes face showing concern and guilt at his actions. He held his hand out to her but instead she scurried over and held onto Dean’s legs hugging him as he gently patted and caressed her back and head.

“Aw look at the happy family.” An obviously stoned Castiel cooed staggering as he supported himself on the door frame.

“You knew?” I asked slightly taken aback.

“Yeah I was sorta an angel, stayed here whilst the rest fled from Lucifer.” Castiel smiled goofily “Thought I told ya that already?”

“Yes but, you didn’t say anything about Dean being Y/d/n’s father.”

“I thought it would’ve been nicer once the pair of you finally believed that pesky little thought and talked about it but, instead you avoided one another until today.” The unfiltered Cas earned a glare from Dean and an amused smile from Chuck.

“Cas are you going to be okay to work, I mean you’ve been high when you’ve worked before but this seems outrageous.” Chuck comments.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine heck I’m going to have Y/n helping me out after all.”

“Take the day off Cas I’ll step in for you, I’d rather the job got done properly by two people instead of one out of it and one the one that offered to help doing all the work.” Dean said.

I sat on the floor taken aback, Dean had just put himself on a job that wasn’t a scavenge, was on his day off and with me.

“Chuck could ya keep Y/d/n with you for today?” Dean went on to ask as I sat there slightly bewildered.

“Yeah sure.”

“Keep her close to you at all times, please don’t let her run off.” I ordered in a friendly sort of way before kissing the top of our little girl’s head before looking up at Dean, “Ready to get to work then partner?” I smiled before walking out of mine and Y/d/n’s cabin making the rest giggle and Dean hurry after me as he bid farewell to our daughter.

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deputyrhiannonhale · 4 years

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Nodus Tollens Chap 3

(ooc) here is the third installment of my story! Same general tags apply, especially canon-game violence and strong language.

chapter 1 chapter 2

tagging: @ja-crispea @dieguzguz @f0xyboxes @shelliechen @returnofthepd3 @deputy-janai @deputyjessicaquinn @xbaebsae @veinereastath @sharky-broshaw @shallow-gravy @ec-10 @hopecountygazette @ramadiiiisme

Rhi was on an ATV flying down the road putting as much distance as she could between herself and the Holland Valley. She was well aware that if John wants her there, he’s definitely got a way to get her there. Tom was nice enough to tell her the way off Dutch’s island, but said he would rather stay back and make sure Dutch stays covered. Rhi thanked him for his help and made her departure.

Her hazel eyes were now searching the sides of the road for any dangers, animal or otherwise when she spotted another person on their knees in front of a cult member. She pulled out her gun, firing a warning shot before skidding to a stop nearby. Gunshots whizzed by near her head and she cursed as she tumbled off the ATV and she hid behind the tree, taking deep breaths. A warning shot was the wrong method to use, she realized now, it’s becoming glaringly obvious that she is going to have to shoot to kill everytime and that epiphany caused Rhi to sigh heavily.

Rhi peeked around the trunk in time to see the woman she was trying to save sweep the legs of the cult woman out from under her and she crashed to the ground hard. Rhi took the moment to run over and finish her off with a single shot to her head. Rhi then doubled over, she really hadn’t been prepared for this kind of buffoonery when she transferred here from Billings. She hadn’t even had to use a weapon until she got here.

“I can see you’re working through an existential thing, but could you give me a hand here?” The lady on the ground inquired, rolling onto her side to reveal her hands were bound. Rhi let out a surprised noise, brushing her brown hair from her face.

“Fuck, I am so sorry!” She exclaimed while moving to kneel beside her and deftly untie her wrists, the woman laughed good naturedly.

“It’s ok...it’s an odd situation here.” She conceded while rubbing her wrists and standing up and taking the rifle off of the cult woman. “She ain’t gonna need this anymore.”

“Odd is an fucking understatment.” Rhi agreed, searching the body for handgun ammo, and cursing when she found none, and the woman laughed again, nodding.

“Oh, if you’re needing any assistance, that Boshaw fellow is close by. When he found out what was going on he started laughing like a crazy man.” Rhi looked up from her knelt place on the ground, hazel eyes wide and her heart rate sped up when she heard Boshaw. As in Sharky Boshaw? Rhi knew she would probably have to face him again eventually, but she was caught off guard that it would be so soon. “Grabbed a propane tank and ran towards the Moonflower Trailer Park...what? You ok? Looks like you just saw a ghost.” The woman asked, and Rhi half nodded, waving her hand dismissively.

“I’m great...just...stunned.” She partially lied, standing to her full height and brushing off her knees, and gave the lady a weary smile. “The trailer park you say. Right up that road there?” Rhi asked, thumbing over her shoulder at the dirt road off to the left, and she nodded affirmation. Rhi groaned inwardly, how would seeing Sharky again after all these years be?

Rhi sighed, as she dismounted her ATV, looking at the trailer park in front of her, placing her hands on her hips. She was not ready to go in here, meeting Sharky again after so many years was sure to be...eventful, to say the least.

After their first and only interaction when she was 16, Sharky actually helped mold her future, not that he knows that. But little rebellious Rhi meeting someone who actually was a badass and witnessed what kind of trouble it gets, made her realize that not all attention is great.

It's when she really started looking up to Earl and the profession he is in, and guided her to be on this side of the law.

Dust came up in little puffs as she walked deeper into the abandoned park, hearing Sharky up on top of one of the trailers, she came to a stop near it, looking him over, her hands still resting on her hips. She chewed on her bottom lip, before making an exasperated noise, looking up at the sky in an aggravated manner and climbing up the nearby ladder.

"Hey, get the fuck outta here, Johnny-law. I know my fuckin’ rights." Is what Sharky greeted Rhi with once she stood to her full height on the trailers roof. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before stepping towards him, he still sounded the same. Maybe a little more gruffness in his voice from what she guessed was years of smoking.

"Oh, so you know that setting fire to things with a flamethrower is still technically illegal?" Rhi asked, sarcastically, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, shifting her weight to her right leg, tilting her head back to look at Sharky in the eyes. She was surprised to see that there was no recognition in his blue eyes for her, she was just another cop to him at this point.

She shouldn't be surprised, though, as she didn't have that much of an impact on his life as a whole as he had hers.

"Hey, I come out here and I'm not botherin' nobody." He swept his arm in a gesture over the trailer park grounds, pointing at different speakers set up. "I play some of the best music and just let loose here. In a pants free, consequence free environment." Rhi blinked at the speakers as he spoke, before her eyes travelled back to him and trailed down to see he was definitely still wearing pants and she couldn't help but laugh slightly.

"Uh, Sharky-" He gave her a confused look, and she tilted her head in question and then it dawned on her. He wants to know how she knows his name already.

"I know, ya wanna know why I'm still wearin' pants. No one knows what the next few minutes hold." He stated, moving over to some pedals he has mounted on the roof. Ok, so maybe he didn't catch that she called him Sharky. "By the way, my name is Charlemagne Victor Boshaw but if you require a little brevity in your day to day life you can just call me-"

"Sharky, I know." Rhi finished for him and this time he gave her a more suspicious look and she folded her arms over her chest. Why does the fact he doesn't remember her nettle her so much?

"How in the fuck do ya know that? Don't think I've ever seen ya around here, little girl." Rhi's nostrils flared slightly at the way he said "little girl" it sounded so much like when they were all in the police station all those years ago. So condescending, almost like he could never take her seriously.

Rhi made a "tch" sound, clucking her tongue, her jaw setting in her rising anger and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and in a deadpan voice, responded:

"Man, fuck you." And with that, it was as if a light bulb lit up blindingly in a dark room. Sharky's blue eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly agape as she watched it slowly come to him who she was.

"No fuckin' way. Bitty Rhi?" It was Rhi's turn to give him a confused look, only Hurk Jr ever called her that. Does that mean he talked to Sharky about her off and on throughout the years? "Should have fuckin' known, of course you'd become a cop. You've been a snitch from the beginning." Rhi's anger exploded at that accusation, she never got over that he always thought she was spying on him and Hurk that day.

"Silencio fucker. I never ratted on you two that day. I had just rolled into town. Besides, who do you think convinced Earl to let you go?" They were both snarling at each either, but Sharky was the one to back down, his anger reducing to surprise.

"That was you?" His voice was a lot softer than she had ever heard, and she nodded, her eyes looking away from him and back to him quickly as if to say "uh, yeah". The two stared at each other in silence, sizing each other up, before Sharky finally scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a cop now.” It was Rhi’s turn to scoff and she turned her face to the sky, shaking her tiny fists in frustration.

“Of fucking course a hillbilly ass like yourself wouldn’t fucking change. Outsiders are the devil.” She ended her sentence mimicking his accent, while simultaneously walking back to the ladder to gingerly climb down, still mouthing. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to help me kick this cults ass, but you know what...nevermind.” She called, walking backwards away from the trailers, throwing her hands up in the air before looking back up to where he had been to point at him. Rhi became surprised when she saw that he was following her down the ladder, and her arm dropped back to her side. “Why are you following me?” Her anger had deflated to confusion.

“I can’t have ya runnin’ around like a crazy woman, Dep. Ya might hurt someone...or yourself.” Sharky teased, and Rhi’s eyes narrowed at him, before her index finger came up to poke him in the chest.

“I’ll have you know I can take care of myself.” She promised and he chuckled, holding up his hands in a defeated manner.

“No doubt, Munchkin, but still you’ll need someone to show ya around.” Sharky pointed out and Rhi considered it. He did have a point, sure she had spent a few summers here, but she hadn’t gone everywhere during that time. Her hazel eyes looked him up and down before she scoffed again, giving him a small but sardonic smirk.

“Fine. But I’m driving, Charlemagne.” She mocked, causing him to grimace as she turned and walked back to where she parked the ATV.

“Hey!” Rhi shouted over her shoulder as she and Sharky were taking a break and stretching, they had saved numerous people along the road, and Rhi needed a breather. Sharky made a noise as he dropped a cigarette butt and snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe. “Hurk Jr around, I haven’t seen him in ages.” Sharky turned to face her, about to answer when he saw the orange glow of the sunset catching Rhi’s face just right as she ran her fingers through her hair trying to brush out tangles, and his mouth fell agape instead.

“Uh…” Was all Sharky managed to get out and Rhi looked over at him, her right eyebrow raised, and then she turned to look behind her to see what had Sharky so enraptured, but there was nothing. She had begun to get nervous, thinking it was a bear, but it was literally just a drop off to the Henbane River below. She shrugged and looked back at him.

“Sharkster...ya alright?” Rhi stepped towards him, snapping her fingers in his face, and it broke the trance and he shook his head to clear it.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m great. Hurk is stayin’ at his dad’s up in the Whitetail Mountains.” He answered, motioning in the direction of the mountains and Rhi gave him a quizzical look before nodding, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Right…” She turned to go back to the ATV, but turned back to Sharky after a couple of steps. “You sure you’re ok. You looked weird-” Her words were cut off when he walked into her, she stumbled back but his hand shot, grabbing her elbow to steady her, pulling her against him, and she blushed. “Didn’t realize you were right up my ass, Charlemagne.” She tried to sound teasing, but it came out rather defensively, and she broke free from his hold, taking a few steps back from him, her tone catching him off guard.

"Didn't think ya were gonna turn on me either." His tone however did come out his intended way of just being playful. He wasn't sure how to take Rhi, sometimes she seemed rather friendly, but then it was like she realized she was being open and a wall slammed down behind her eyes, blocking everyone from her innermost thoughts. They had spent nearly a whole day together now, and everytime he thinks they are getting friendly, Rhi pushes him back an arms length away again.

Rhi’s eyes studied him suspiciously, had what he said been a tease or was it being passive aggressive about their past again? Sharky then gave her a soft almost puppy innocent smile and Rhi’s eyes widened, a slight blush tinted her pale cheeks, and her defenses melted away. She wanted to slap herself, because, sure, when she was 16 she had found him attractive enough on their first sighting, but that was the rebellious part of her...right? That part of her that was like ‘oh, Step-Ass would absolutely hate you bringing someone like him home’.

Rhi shook her head slightly to clear it before giving Sharky a smile small in return. “Sorry, I guess I’m embarrassed I nearly fell down…” She lied, laughing nervously, before climbing back onto the quad, and patting the area behind her, and Sharky quickly joined her.

“Hey, Dep, ya know who I’d bet would be happy to see ya?” Sharky asked, leaning down to speak into Rhi’s ear as she sped down the road, and a small shiver ran down her spine as his facial hair tickled her earlobe.

“Who’s that Sharky?” She replied, turning her head towards him slightly to make sure he heard her. She was just hoping her talking while driving this fast didn’t have her eating bugs.

“My auntie.” Of course! Addie! Rhi had missed her so much and hadn’t really visited much two years ago while she had been recovering, she just talked to her on the phone more than anything...having been so preoccupied with John. Feeling her anger rising again, she cleared her throat.

“Abso-fucking-lutely! Let’s go see Addie!”

Slowing to a stop close to the Drubman Marina, Rhi vacated the quad after she was sure Sharky was off, she sighed. Of course the cult was here too, she thought to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair in a very frustrated manner. She was just beginning to walk up the slight incline to gain the higher ground when her radio beeped. She froze, it was nighttime now, so the noise seemed like it resounded loudly. She grabbed it quickly, nearly dropping it in her hurry, she juggled it for a couple of beats before finally getting a good grasp on it.

“Deputy...I hope I didn’t wake you.” John again, and Rhi cursed lowly, rolling her eyes, and giving Sharky a motion of hanging herself and he chuckled.

“Not at all, asshole, Sharky here has been keeping me company.” Rhi knew that would ruffle John’s peacock feathers. “The hell do you want? Y’know, since this is Faith’s region afterall…” Rhi pointed out, smirking to herself, and she heard John scoff bitterly.

“Ah yes, Charlemagne. Not sure he is going to be the best fit for you my dear.” Rhi blinked, confused by that answer and she shot Sharky a quick look, but he seemed to not be paying full attention to the conversation at hand, his face cast upwards looking at the stars.

“Oh? And you are?” She asked, turning her back to Sharky and walking back towards the quad, not wanting him to overhear anymore.

“Do you remember that night before you left for Billings?” Rhi’s jaw muscles bunched and flexed, her free hand clenching into a tight fist. Of course she did.

“The night that it was clear you were hiding something from me but I was too stupid to acknowledge it?” She hissed through her teeth, and John was quiet for a few beats.

“Yes, that night.” John agreed and Rhi stared down at the radio as if she couldn’t believe he just brushed off what she said.

What she didn’t realize was, on John’s end, he had placed the radio on his forehead. He hated that he had to lie to her back then, it had been at Joseph’s request that John reach out to her, being certain Rhi needed to be brought into their loving family. He had gotten close to her during the handful of months she was there, and before he knew it, Rhi was leaving Hope County altogether.

“We watched the stars that night.” He continued, standing out on one of his balconies, looking up at the stars, he couldn’t help but think about that night. Rhi’s mind flashed back to her and John sitting on the waters edge, as she pointed out the different constellations, John leaned close to her, one arm draped around her shoulders. How could this be the same person, he acted so different back then. She sighed, looking up at the stars too.

“We did…” Her tone was soft as she remembered it all. “What happened to you…?” It was a bitter question, rhetorical because she was sure he wouldn’t answer such a question, to him, he was probably always the same him. To her, he was two faced.

“You thought I was a perfect fit back then.” His voice was back to being cocky and she growled, she hated that he could switch on a dime like that. “I’m at my home, if you want me to prove how perfect of a fit I am.” The sultry tone of his suggestion caused a hot feeling to run to her core, and Rhi’s face turned blood red at her body’s reaction. Unsure of how to even respond to such a statement, she let out a shaky laugh.

“Oh, John.” Came the weakest comeback she’s ever done in her life, and she knew she had to do better. “I’m not that easy, you’ll have to work for it.” She tried to sound as seductive as she could, not being used to flirting, especially like this, before replacing the radio onto her belt.

“Watch your back then, Deputy.” It was a warning that should have scared her, yet it had sent an inexplicable thrill through her entire body, and she smirked, she was ready for him and whatever he sent her way.

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #rhiannon hale #far cry 5 john seed #john seed #john x rhi #Sharky Boshaw #sharky x rhi #nodus tollens #hope county #hope county montana #far cry 5 fan fic #far cry 5 fanfiction #adelaide drubman

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Dangerous (Part 2/2)

Description: After meeting two handsome men in a club in London and finding out that these two men are friends, you were excited about trying something you've never done before.

A/N: This is sooo inspired by The Golden Rule (The Lonely Island) because I think these two sang it immediately after she told them to meet her outside the club in ten. 👀🤣

Tagging: @missdictatorme @yaeji-passion

Playlist: The idiot dumbass sandwich that stole my heart™

Part 1.

"Can you take Amber home?" - You asked Monica who was already supporting your drunk friend on her shoulder. She first opened up her mouth, but as soon as she saw standing the two men in the rain smoking and chatting, she understood.

That was so wild she giggled with a surprised expression. You weren't sure about leaving with one guy, but suddenly, there were both of them waiting for you to take your time. You never came across as a friend who would like something so... Nasty. Monica never had tried something like that, neither had you, but she understood as soon as she saw both of them.

"I knew you had it in you, you freak." - She giggled when drunk Amber told you threw a hundred times how much she loves you and that you're the best maid of honor on the whole world. - "Show them who's the boss here." - She slapped your ass, making you jolt excitedly - and placing dirty grins on the men's faces. You watched as the two of them getting into the cab, knowing well that once they leave you'll be in the hands of these two men. Which made you nervous.

"Any problems here, ladies?" - Sam strolled next to you, smiling at Amber already sitting on the backseat. She pointed at the man, opened up her mouth and squealed. She knew she already has seen him that night. Monica but a hand over her mouth as soon as she started to frantically mumble something, giving Drake one of those smiles. - "No that I would be aware of one, Mr. Drake. And be careful with her, because I'll find you and cut your weenie off if one of you does something she doesn't like, are we clear?" - She asked sweetly, having both you and Amber looking at her.

Although Sam looked mysterious for a second, soon, he started to laugh. - "Understood, Miss Monica. But trust me, the things on my mind... She's going to love all of it." - He winked at Monica, closing the door behind her. For a second, you were still standing there, Sam was still smoking and watched the cab with your friends leaving. - "Can we?" - The man grinned at you, walking backward to Charlie who was waiting for you, watching you with his palms in the pockets of his jeans.

The ride to Cutter’s apartment wasn't anything special - the bald man had a palm over your shoulder while Drake sat from the other side, having his palm on your knee, smoothing it subconsciously. You were sitting there between the two men, listening to them having a conversation about historical research.

These two weren't only someone who wanted to get laid for the night or some animals without respect to women, otherwise, you wouldn't be clothed when getting out of the cab. They were smart - and you meant seriously smart. Cutter was talking about a specific historical period this thing was supposed to be from and Sam sometimes hummed, responding a few words.

It was a surprise when the cab stopped in front of a huge, tall building in one of the better locations in London. Your friend told you that you'd have to be extremely rich and crazy to live there, which Cutter probably was. Just the entrance hall and a small yard inside the complex made you wonder - it was something built in an antique style with a pool in there.

"You live here?" - You asked when you were taking the stairs to the third floor, still looking onto the yard. Cutter turned his head at you. It was the first time you asked them something since you got out of the club. Normally, girls had a million questions about threesomes - like who’s on the top, who’s the bottom, if they have to do the infamous sandwich and so on... And yet, even if it was evident that you're doing this for the first time, your mouth was shut the whole time. So he smiled at you.

"Yeah. But it’s not because I have money to waste." - Charlie answered with true honesty in his face. - "He's extremely claustrophobic." - Sam said with a neutral expression, making you look at Charlie more attentively. Such a tall man, a macho man if you will, was afraid of small spaces? Yeah, you could see why he liked that place, yet the money he was paying for this place must've been crazy.

The men didn't tear the clothes off you even after the door to Cutter’s apartment was locked. They went straight to the bedroom... But not to fuck you senseless, yet to have another chit-chat and a glass of Scotch. Was the threesome even happening? Or..?

So while these two were talking in front of the big wall made out of glass, you were looking at the things Cutter had there - there was a lot of books, some ancient things you held in your hand for a second, then there was a huge TV with a lot of movies to choose from... And the bedroom looked messy and cozy as hell. Charlie didn't spend too much time thinking about the bedsheets or tidying them up, but it wasn’t smelly or anything.

You heard them bickering when you walked to the stereo, looking at the playlist Cutter had there. You smiled after reading the name of the song - and an idea came across your mind. You pressed play, letting it yell loudly all over the big bedroom.

The men didn't look at you, so you rose your hands above your head, swaying your hips in the bass guitar's melody, having a smile on your lips. That was when Samuel poked Cutter's hip, both of them shifting their attention to you.

You were dancing around, playing with your hair, showing them what you could do. When the second chorus came around, you looked at the men, slowly tugging the wet t-shirt from your body, revealing the bra you had on. Your boobs jumped around when you swayed your hips one more time, pointing both your fingers at them to lure them closer.

Samuel put the glass down, walking to you first. His palms copied the motion of your hips, his pelvis joining yours in the provocative movements. Charlie would be good with just watching Sam kissing you slowly as you danced, yet he didn't miss on the opportunity to press his chest on your back. The bulge on your ass showed you that he's into that as well.

Gently, you let Samuel's lips go, searching for the back of Cutter's head. When you found it, you let him kiss you as well, moaning again at the sensation. Each of you was moving the same rhythm and you were nothing but three bodies slowly destroyed with lust. While Sam kissed your neck and pulled your jeans a bit lower with his fingers, Charlie was kissing you and palming these incredible two girls you had on your chest.

"What about a quick shower before the long night, lovebug?" - Sam breathed out into your neck, slowly getting the pants even lower. Cutter slowly leaned from your lips, having you looking at him like the baby girl you were. - "Mate's idea is great, cutie. Come or we'll show you how bad girls are treated." - The older man agreed with Samuel, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom. You made sure to drag Samuel along as well, giving him a sweet smile when you did so.

The bathroom was horrendously huge as well. Charlie might have some problems with small spaces in the end. Cutter was there to snap you out of the trance by taking the bra off of you and letting it fall on the ground along with your jeans. You helped him with kicking at away, walking to the shower right after that. You hated the England plumbing system. Once the water poured down on you, you yelled when it was ice-cold, then it suddenly went boiling and it took you almost ten minutes before you found the temperature you were okay with.

It was strange to see one of the men already naked, specifically cutter, but the other one leaning into the counter with a sink, lighting another cigarette up. Samuel loved the sight in front of him. It didn't strike him that your make-up was already smudged and your hair wet, he was in love with the gaze you were giving him. You had the vibe of an animal standing in the lights of a car, partially covering yourself with your hands while showing him these exquisite buttcheeks. Jesus, you were beautiful.

"You're not coming in?" - You asked, already feeling Charlie standing not even feet away from you. To make you more relaxed, Cutter started with massaging your back with some shower gel, earning an honest smile from you. But Samuel shook his head, enjoying the scenery. - "I'm good just here, baby."

There was something wickedly erotic about watching his friend getting a girl prepared, just as something was turning on you when you saw Samuel’s eyes not moving away from you. - "Drake, that cabinet on the right, third shelf. Fetch me the wipes." - Charlie turned your face to him, smiling at you while his fingers smoothed the hair off your face. Sure, your make up was running. - "Am I that ugly?" - You asked both the boys, earning a gentle ass slap from the bald man.

"I don't want you to have some rash or a burned skin in the morning, pet, but if you're into this stuff, I won't be stopping you." - Charlie answered you, putting the showerhead in a different direction, looking at your face. To be honest, you hadn't met a guy who would remember this sort of stuff. And it was nice of both of them. Charlie had some gentle-ass fingers, gently wiping every last shit off your face.

Holy shit, you even had the natural beauty other girls could dream about. That was a thing which made his boner go even wilder. And being the little minx you were, you pushed your belly to meet it, nettling it with all the gentleness. - "You little naughty girl." - Cutter laughed at you, still holding the wipe between his fingers before smiling down on you. It didn't take him long before he leaned in, pressing your back to the wall so you would have a good view on Samuel, who was watching the action with a contained smile.

It was just the way you hoped it would be - Cutter was quick and skilled with that mouth, slipping down on his knees before you could say shit. His palm slipped directly between your thighs, playing with you for a second before he turned his head to Samuel. You had already been smiling and biting your lip because it felt nice to feel a man down there.

"You should feel how wet this pet is, mate." - Cutter his at Drake who was staring in your eyes the whole time. Your expression changed fairly fast as Cutter worked wonders with entering you and slipping out. For a moment, your mouth was opened, then you bent it until touched the wall, moaning into the ceiling and after that, you closed your eyes, moaning Cutter’s surname. When you would swear it couldn't get better, Cutted swung your leg over his shoulder, burying his face between your legs.

At that sight, Samuel licked his lips, feeling himself getting seriously hard in those pants. Both your palms smoothed the back of the Britishman’s head, pushing him further in. Your breasts were rising and falling in the unsteady rhythm of your breathing, you were barely speaking.

For real, your inability to speak was perfectly reasonable. Cutter knew how to work a girl up until the point she goes crazy for the D, although that night, he was aware that you weren't only his plaything. Cutter was holding back and you still screamed his surname soon enough, holding your head in place, staring into Samuel's eyes. The music changed into something edgier and inviting.

There was a moment when you got lost in the moment, holding Cutter in his place, focusing on the rhythm of his tongue. You could feel all the gentles sucks and swirls, making you weaker and weaker. Along with the fingering, it was a heavenly combination. And you got really surprised when another hand-pulled Charlie from finishing you off completely.

"Let's go the bed, I want to play as well, pal." - Sam smiled wickedly, watching you fighting for every small breath. It didn't mean shit that you were all wet from the water because soon enough, your back leaned into Sam's chest. He already took off his t-shirt, kneeling on the bed in jeans.

Charlie took his time to dry the worst off, waking into the room after you with his pants back on, having a visible bulge in his groin. His chin was still provocatively glistering as he kneeled in front of you, smiling at Sam when his palm caressed your inner thigh.

Was this a hell or heaven? It was hard to tell the difference when you watched Cutter kissing the other thigh. Just when you wanted to circle the back of his head again, Samuel kept your palms directly in place. It was making you feel safe to hold and direct Cutter during eating you out, yet the discomfort to use them make you even wetter. You couldn't stop him once you'll cum. Which meant that you'll be at Charlie's grace.

"Look at him, honey, come on." - Samuel hugged your thighs with his knees, holding you in place. You did as you were told, feeling Drake gently biting on your neck. - "I want you to look at this guy while he'll eating your pussy out, be a doll, will you?" - Drake kissed your ear gently and you nodded, staring at Charlie when he dove back inside, making sure that his fingers are all the way in.

"Her throat, mate." - Charlie mumbled with a concentrated face, having Sam understand immediately. Another palm circled your throat skillfully, squeezing it just enough to have you on the edge, yet not hurting you or have you feeling uncomfortable. - "Attagirl." - Charlie hummed before kissing the sweet spot and curling his fingers inside of you. He had you moaning in a matter of seconds. Cutter spread your legs, even more, having a contained smile of a small boy on his face.

They knew what they were doing, which was evident from each move. They might be in the bed for the first together, but their teamwork was undeniable. While Samuel was praising you for being such a good girl, he made sure you won't try to touch Cutter and as a bonus, he was gently holding your throat. Cutter showed you his giving nature, making you cum twice before he was done with you. At the second one, he had you screaming and rolling eyes, and in those moments, you were beautiful.

After that, he gave Samuel a nod. His jaws needed some rest, so it was up to Drake to have his fun with you. Not for too long, of course, but enough time to get the fun started and some time for a cigarette.

You were ready with your eyes closed, sweat all over your body, your legs were performing a straightway spread eagle when Samuel was getting ready. Sam was looking down on you, taking in all of the beauty while Charlie sat in the corner, having a bulge in his pants and juices all over his face. You didn't know why didn't he wiped them off, yet it felt vulgar to see him wearing a piece of you in such an erotic manner.

There was something vulgar and erotic about seeing his friend fucking a woman he was into as well for Cutter. But he couldn't help himself at the moment he got up and got ready the tease the shit out of Drake.

"Are you sure what to do here, mate? Wanna help?" - Cutter broke the silence, walking next to the bed. His palm gently smoothed your hair, traveling down to cup your breast just moments after that. A moan could be heard when he gently teased your nipple.

"What the fuck are you trying to say, you fuck? Of course, I know what to do." - Samuel frowned, being taken back by Charlie's question. It completely ruined the flow inside Sam's head yet at that moment, you weren't that invested in the actual conversation since Cutter's palms were still playing with you, slowly smoothing your skin until it lingered above your pelvis.

"Sure looks like it, punk. Wanna me to show you how to please a woman?" - Cutter looked Sam in the eyes, completely ignoring his friend being naked.

"Excuse me? You have nothin' on me, so fuck off, sit down and watch." - Samuel hissed back, being completely taken away. Cutter rose his eyebrows, smoothing you with the tips of his fingers, slipping back between your thighs.

"Move, nitwit, I'll show you magic." - Charlie gently pushed Samuel away, still working wonders down there. Yet this time, you paid attention since the warmth around your ankles disappeared.

"Magic up my ass, it's my turn. Fuck off." - Samuel pushed him back, not violently, but it was enough for even the palm between your legs to disappear. You pushed them back together immediately, sitting up to look at these two idiots with your mouth open. What the hell was happening there?

"You fuck off, Drake, or should I show you what a man's punch looks like?" - Cutter threw the cigarette to the ashtray, standing up in front of Sam. Your eyes widened when you realized. These two were fighting. So you got on your knees, putting a hand of both naked chests.

"Boys, is this about trying to figure out who can piss further, or will you have some with me? Calm down, act like damn adults." - You mumbled, shaking your head. Were they forty or fucking five? It was hard to tell, yet more likely, they were mentally children.

"She's right. And you should be glad that she’s here because, under different circumstances, you'd get your face punched." - Cutter stepped back again while slapping you asscheek before sitting back into his chair. It could be felt that for Cutter, slaps on your ass are more or less showing a sings of affection - it never hurt and after each of them, he always gave you a heartwarming smile.

You wondered if he does it normally, in his everyday life. You always found it cute when a man caught his loved one's bottom, slapped it gently, or just held it. He sure seemed like that kind of a man.

After a small smile, you put your focus back on Samuel. The music playing was the only thing you heard when you leaned into the man, tugging him in for a kiss. And it wasn't just any kind of kiss - his palm tugged your hair harshly to lay you down. He crawling on top of you in the process. The warmth of his body never left you for a moment, the pressure on your hair didn't disappear either. Samuel was the boss for the moment and you were fully on board with that fact.

You didn't expect the first penetration come with such a force and as soon as it did. This man had it written in his face - the smile was telling you that he's an animal and that soon, you'll scream for God to help you while Cutter will be just sitting there and watching you. The pace of the act was fast; Sam was doing a lot of things, but riding your wet cunt slowly? That wasn’t one of them. It didn't take him even a minute to make you arch your back and to scratch his shoulders when you tried to keep up with him.

It wasn’t brutal or enjoyable, no, but it was a bit rougher than what you were used to, that was all. And you didn't want the man to stop at all, you did all you could to match his pace. There was scratching, begging, moaning, rolling your eyes, sloppy kisses. It was a cute show to watch you two fucking for Cutter. It could be heard that Drake knows what he's doing, especially when he slipped out and pulled back in forcefully.

The most magnificent moment of the whole show came when you rose your knees to circle Samuel’s hips as you turned your had to the other man in the chair. Cutter leaned closer too, gazing back into your eyes. - "Oh my fucking God." - Was a single scream before you came with an animalistic growl, shaking violently under the American, making him chuckle as he stood up.

"I think this girl is ready for the last number of the night." - Samuel kissed your shoulder, looking at Cutter while palming himself. Charlie smiled as well, having a similar position in his head as well.

"Last number of the night?" - You chuckled, still feeling the heights of orgasm crawling inside your body. Cutter licked his lips as his trousers fell to his ankles, gently turning on your belly. These men were something else. Were you ready for one last time? - "Of course, pet, there will be more coming in the morning." - Cutter bit your earlobe as you felt him entering you again. You couldn't see his member properly, yet he wasn’t the smallest at all.

"Use your elbows, honey. It'll be better." - Sam smiled and kneeled to gave you a kiss when he saw your eyes getting teary. Of course, every position was just the question of the time you get used to it, but this was something extremely new. You did doggy style before, but after just ending with one man to have another entering you, that was something. After the kiss, Charlie finally moved inside and caught your hips to let you get used to the rhythm of the sloppy fucking. Sam could see how contained he feels and on the way you put your hands to support your face, it seemed that you're starting to feel it too.

That was also the moment when you realized why Samuel is standing with his dick directly centimeters from your face. And also the comment about elbows made sense suddenly. With a quick sigh, you leaned in to lick at least the tip of it, only for Cutter to pull you back, getting all of him inside of you. The bald man was teasing the shit out of you until the moment you grabbed Sam’s thigh and clenched your nails to keep him close. He, on the other hand, grabbed your hair rather forcefully leading the place.

Sam checked for tears or red flags all the time - if you wouldn't like sucking his cock, he would just jerk it off. If you'd like to vomit, he would stop immediately. But just when he hit the back of your mouth, you slipped even further down, completely ignoring the gagging reflex. At that feeling, he bent his head backward with a lustful chuckle, putting the second hand into your hair as well.

"Jesus, mate. This feels so good." - Cutter hummed, slapping your ass again. Slowly, he was increasing the speed of his tempos, now getting at the speed of a drill. Samuel smiled at his remark, watching his cock inside your mouth. - "This one’s cute and handy. We hit the jackpot."

Not too long after both boys praising the living fuck out of you, Charlie became ruthless, bouncing your ass on his dick roughly to chase the release. Sam knew that this would be too much, so he stepped back whole having one of his palms entwined with yours, finishing himself off.

To be honest, you felt good. You have never felt better. You accepted Sam’s help with getting into the bathroom to clean both of you from the cum, letting Cutter change the sheets since the cum was everywhere there as well. The bald man landed you one of his flannel, old shirts, letting you lay the way you felt the most comfortable on his fucking huge bed, turning on the TV for you so you could watch something before the men finish the rest, like cleaning themselves, changing into fresh clothes and cleaning up the bedroom.

It was nice, even when the whole thing was done. The men were joking, chuckling, and checking on you. They made you even something to eat before going to sleep.

"How you're feeling, missy?" - Cutter asked and smoothed the hair off your face. Your smile was beaming through the dark bedroom. Only a blind person wouldn't see how tired you were, but you were happy. Such good sex... Who wouldn't be happy? - "It’s Y/N."

Sam surprised chuckled from smoothing your back. - "You didn't even know her name? Oh, Charles..." - Samuel sighed, kissing the back of your neck gently before leaning his chin into your shoulder to watch the movie on the TV.

"I still like pet better." - Charlie smiled, getting up from the bed to give you a small notebook. - "Would like to have your number if it wouldn't be a problem." - The Britishman asked and looked at the movie too.

"Why?" - You asked, but you wrote your name, surname and phone number in nonetheless, adding a small smiley-face at the end.

"Drake and I happen to travel the world often these days, and it would be a pleasure to meet you again. I mean, inside of the bed or in it, it doesn't matter." - Cutter disappeared with the small notebook, and you turned your face to Drake still resting his chin on your shoulder. He didn't look at you, but he did smile.

Boys weren't lying to you. In the morning, you had a pretty sweet waking up with Charles between your legs, seeing Mr. Drake in the bathroom right after that. They rode you back to the hotel, saying goodbye with the sweetest smiles and kisses. And soon after you got back home, you already got a text message.

When you're free?

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake Uncharted #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake #charlie cutter #charlie cutter uncharted #CHARLIE FOR PRESIDENT OR DADDY #i am low-key shook by Charlie

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

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Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Additional Tags: Resurrected Jason Is Found By Poison Ivy AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Vines, Bondage, Breathplay, Basically what it’s like falling in love after you’d already fallen into love, feat. soft JayBru

There’s something to be said about punching your way out of your own coffin, scared out of your mind and not remembering a single damn thing. It's a living hell in every sense of the word, and all in all having Poison Ivy knock him out after she found him wandering around was probably as good an outcome he could have hoped for.

Or, what happens when Jason's return is less a traumatic ordeal in the Pit and more a gentle blossoming under Pamela's careful care, and he finds himself looking at Bruce and thinking, yes.

Take care of yourselves, and please hang in there as best you can.

Fic on tumblr under the cut.

There’s something to be said about punching your way out of your own coffin, scared out of your mind and not remembering a single damn thing aside from a vague sense of there being a place you needed to return to. It’s hell on your hands, for one; he kept finding splinters in his palms for days afterwards. It’s hell on the head, what with the pounding, the complete lack of any memories, the then-dead-now-alive situation, and all in all having Poison Ivy knock him out with some sleeping pollen after she found him rampaging through the botanical gardens in the dead of night was probably as good an end to the day as he could have hoped for.

Pamela’s a lot of frightening, fantastic things. One of those things is that she has a tendency to be unflinchingly kind to scrappy little weedy things trying desperately to survive, and he certainly was a weedy thing that night, freshly pushed out through the earth. He doesn’t remember much from the first 48 hours; just remembers fear and terror and rage, a burst of something sweet-smelling spreading across his face, and then being cared for by careful steady hands that kept him cool and watered and fed.

He recovers in body but not in memory, and decides to just keep helping Pam out, fuzzy on everything except that Gotham is where he needs to be. He doesn’t have any powers aside from being pretty strong and athletic, and while he’d like to think he’s a damn good kisser he can’t literally brainwash people with his skills; trying to keep up with a bit of a mystical botanist almost-villain is really hard when their skill levels are so mismatched.

Pam never seems to mind though, just laughs his concerns off and tells him some vague bullshit about how plants don’t need to do anything more than just be to be good and important and necessary, and that’s all he needs to worry about.

Life at the overridden jungle-esque townhouse that is Casa Isley is pretty simple and extremely pleasant, even in the early days when he was mostly mute and spent most of his time sitting by the window in the living room, face to the sun, eyes closed. She leaves him to recuperate and find his centre and find the sun in the daytime, and at night they bomb massive multinational corporations that profit from the destruction of the rainforests, and it’s a good hearty living. Something doesn’t feel entirely right about a purely vegetarian diet, but the things Pam can do with lentils and roasted squash, Jesus. On the work front, she calls him ‘Sting’ when they’re out, even though he has issues with sharing a name with an elderly pop star, but it’s better than getting called ‘Netty’ instead of nettles, so he goes along with it.

Almost a year in and he thinks he’s gotten the hang of the concept of just being, that he’s found where he can live and grow, that it’s fine that in an absence of a name they both seem to have settled on “Dan” because it’s short for ‘dandelion’, before the Mrs. shows up all of a sudden in a flurry of colour and chaos, takes one look at him, and starts screaming “Robin!!!”

It comes down to this;

“You know I don’t like to look at men’s faces,” Pam tells Harley with mild irritation, even as flowers keep popping up all throughout the house at the absolute pleasure the doctor is feeling at having her wife home for the first time in most of a year.

If they FaceTime each other, he’s never gotten to see it, and if they don’t, he has no idea how they survive that sharp bite of absence. It rings awful loud in his stupid head, and he doesn’t even know what it is he’s missing.

“I know, pumpkin, it’s one of your defining features.” Harley hasn’t stopped laughing once in the past hour, through the fracas of him reacting badly to being screeched at and Pam getting everyone wrapped up neatly in vines while she went to put the kettle on. Harley’s still got vines running all over her, and the whole mass of them seem delighted. “Been wonderin’ who they were talkin’ ‘bout, when they said you picked up a new sidekick who’s some guy that prob’ly wouldn’t know his poppies from his pansies, and now I see you got yourself a zombie baby bird!”

He tries not to snap the handle of the dainty teacup he’s holding. 'Robin' feels closer, closer than ‘Sting’ and ‘Dan’, but still not quite right. “Do you know if I got a family waiting for me somewhere?”

Harley grins. “A whole freakin’ flock of ‘em, buddy. Any terror of the night you see out here in Gotham, they’re gonna take one good look at you and they’re gonna know! Look for a strong jawline or crazy good hair, it’s a giveaway for all of yous. Seriously, Pammy, I can’t believe your little sidekick and you haven’t run into B yet.”

“He’s still new, I wasn’t going to take him out on anything high-level, Harley,” Pamela tells her archly. “But Dandy, it’s up to you. What do you say we hit up a bank or a dozen and see if anybody who swings by recognises you?”

It's not hard to say yes to potentially unraveling his past.

That night they go out in threes, Harley and Poison Ivy looking dashing as all hell while he skulks in the background, trying to stay clear of all the shameless makeouts. He feels deeply uncool in his sweats and his safety goggles with leaves stuck on, but he couldn't really knock up anything that looks half as good as their costumes, so it is what it is, urgh. The plan is easy enough; target the City Bank and just hang around until a Bat or a Bird swings by, and ask if they know who he is. At Harley’s insistence, he’s left the bandanna he usually wears to cover his face at home, because she swears that they’re going to need a peep at his jawline, like a chin’s just as good as a fingerprint.

He doesn’t actually think it’s going to work, as he jumps from giant plant to giant plant to stick some explosives to the vault doors. He’s probably just some man who died in some excruciatingly normal way, and the strangest thing about him is just that he came back, somehow.

He’s probably nobody special.

So it comes as a bit of a surprise when they’re met by an entire battalion of masked vigilantes, held off by Ivy and every inch of chlorophyll in a mile-wide radius, but the fighting is interrupted by Harley whistling to catch everybody’s attention, and then very loudly going “Ta-dah!!” as she presents him, like he’s something grand and important.

He feels extremely put on the spot. He feels like an unasked-for baby picture flashed to acquaintances; inexplicably precious to Harley and astonishingly anti-climactic for literally everyone else. “No one’s gonna know who I am,” he hissed at her, frustration bleeding into his voice.

Of course, everybody does.

The custody battle between Batman and his many, many associates versus Poison Ivy and her wife was vicious and surprisingly bloodless. He can’t remember the number of times he gets abducted and re-abducted. In the course of two months he: gets taken out to an all-night cafe by a man in black-and-blue who seems anxious and keen to pretend he isn’t; has a costumed girl with wild blonde hair ask if he might consider giving her driving lessons, because B is shit; gets accosted by a boy with floppy hair who got real annoyed that Jason’s phone is an ancient thing with a keypad and everything, unhackable in every sense of the word.

In his defense, when Pam can send him a shopping list via leaves and he just needs to shout at the closest potted plant to remind her she’s supposed to get take-out on the way home tonight, a phone’s not really super necessary.

Pam and Harley become increasingly retaliatory after all the kidnapping attempts; he’s been followed by oak trees dragging themselves along the pavement like underpaid Ents, and Harley’s singular ability to show up when everybody least expects her means many a (family?) reunion gets broken up by a glitter bomb and Harley dragging him back, “‘cos Pammy’s gonna be real mad if I lost you. You accidentally buy real bacon instead a’ imitation one time, and your wife gets to hold that over you for f’ever, and you gotta take it kid, just ‘cos you love her, god.”

It’s a hectic couple of months.

He knows the Bat and Bird people know who he is, and that they worry about telling him the truth while he’s still living with Pam, who’s a designated villain, but right now it’s a lot easier to pick the side of the woman who found him when he was at his worst and helped him find his feet and screw his head back on straight than it is to believe a pack of vigilantes who stalk him and refuse to tell him his name.

Batman’s the worst of the lot; massive and hulking and lineless when he wants to intimidate a deeply-unmoved Poison Ivy in a fight, but furtive and silent and impossible to see when he’s on the fire escape right outside his room.

At first, he’d thought that the Batman was just straight-up creeping on him in his sleep, and he’d started cultivating a window box of cacti that he was slowly coaching into listening to him and taking instructions. Prolonged contact with Ivy and all the pheromones and secret magic that seeps out of her gives everyone in her vicinity a bit of plant magic, and where Pam’s mailman has gone from killing three succulents within the space of a week many years ago to becoming an award-winning pumpkin cultivator this last fall, Jason’s begun to be able to nudge and ask plants for help.

The cacti let him know that if Batman’s stalking him, it’s really fucking weird stalking. The Bat doesn’t peer through the window, never tries to climb in and get into close contact, makes no move to survey the lay of the land and liberate him. It’s really fucking weird, the cacti say. On random nights, at least twice a week, the Bat climbs up the creaky, ancient wrought-iron ladder in complete silence, and apparently he just sits there, back to the room, face to the world.

Some nights where everything feels a little off, Jason just lies in bed and stares at the black mass and wonders what he’s done to make him so important to Batman, and if the feeling’s returned.

He figures out somewhere along the way that the Bat’s standing guard over him. He figures it out because Pam tells him, with an exasperated tone of voice that informs him that this is why she finds men so damn intolerable. “He’s worried about you, and he hasn’t tried to do anything more than just creep around, so I thought I’d leave him to you.”

That’s where it (re)starts.

A week after that little conversation with Pam, he swaps out half the cacti for clumps of herbs in the window box instead. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to ward against the Bat anymore, and there’s something really freakin’ nice about his room smelling like rosemary when Gotham’s hit with her usual summer heatwave, dramatically transforming from a grubby city into a grubbier swamp. A week after that he starts leaving out lemonade for the man, because Pamela did a damn fine job instilling within him the urge to make sure to regularly water those things that need regular watering. A week after that, he starts unilaterally talking about what it’s like to be an apprentice horticulturalist climbing the corporate ladder, and how his trainer is extremely impressed with how even their most dire cases return to life under his green thumbs. There’s a course on technical botanical watercolours coming up, for staff only, and he’s fucking hyped. The Bat responds in quiet hums and grunts, and even the occasional word, but Jason and his plants collectively agree that the man is listening, intently even.

A week after that, Batman tells him that he’s Jason Todd, the name clicks like a neck breaking, and he’s on the ground screaming-screaming-screaming as everything comes pouring back, soothed and tinted green by Poison Ivy’s fundamentally restorative magic hanging heavy in the air.

When he comes to, Harley’s trying to knock Bruce’s stupid head off with her ridiculous mallet, and Jason sees at least 4 Venus flytraps manifesting, big enough to eat any man as Pamela checks his pulse. Bruce is dodging and ducking and weaving, but he doesn’t raise a hand to fight back. He just keeps staring and staring and staring at Jason, and that’s the culmination of the world’s most chaotic resurrection arc.

There’s a second round of flying batarangs and pollen bombs when Jason’s brought up to speed on the status of things (i.e. the Joker and his damn fucking state of being alive) and he tells his family (both sets of them) that he’s going to keep on being an apprentice horticulturalist and an apprentice Sting(ing Nettle), with Bruce accusing Poison Ivy of brainwashing him and Pam scoffing and telling Bruce that Jason doesn’t even like women, which, come on, why’s a man gotta get outed like this?

He loves everyone involved in this whole screaming mess, but for people who don’t actually have a claim to any part of him, it is wild how entitled both Batman and Poison Ivy feel to him. That’s the thing with growth, right? You might need to give a sapling a lot of support to help it get its bearings, but when it’s off, it’s off.

Jason’s grown up enough to know who he is and where he stands, and it might have taken well over a year post-resurrection to get to this point, but he’s tall and strong enough to stand up and get the sun himself, thanks.

This is how the custody battle ends;

Jason tells both Pam and Bruce that neither of them are actually his parents, and moves out to a shitty little flat close to Crime Alley. His house is chock-a-block full of plants; there’s always cereal in the cupboards for when Dick or Harley visit; the window is left unadorned for quick access by night-time crimefighters; he upgrades to a legitimate smartphone and joins several iterations of family group chats; and

he’s careful to pick a flat that has a fire escape right outside his bedroom. It’s a weird thing to have as ‘required’ when apartment-hunting, but the thought of Bruce trying to be a barrier between Jason and this whole awful world where he couldn’t before makes him feel some sort of way, and some sort of way is enough of a motivation. Bruce reminds him of himself fresh out of the ground; struggling to find his footing but trying desperately to carry on nonetheless. An extra 75 bucks a month is worth setting up space with plenty of sun for that, surely.

He puts a pitcher of lemonade instead of a bird feeder out a couple of months after moving in, when he’s nice and settled. When he pokes his head out and finds an empty jug the next morning, his aloe plant checks in with him to make sure that he’s cool with having a black wraith standing guard outside in the night.

Jason is.

A week after that he starts chatting at Bruce while he folds 2 weeks’ worth of laundry, and a week after that he starts joining Bruce on the fire escape.

Sometimes they don’t talk much at all because contact is what they actually, desperately need, and that’s the start of a different sort of resurrection.

The thing is, Bruce probably thinks he’s being super sneaky and discreet, but he really, really isn’t. Even if Jason didn’t have every plant in the tri-state area snitching on Bruce to him, it’s pretty clear that ‘Sting’s’ outfit has been getting upgraded. The goggles with the leaves haphazardly glued onto them suddenly have night-vision, and don’t even crack when Jason gets slammed into the side of a building face-first one night. His sweats look exactly the same, except they’re now three pounds heavier and are shockingly bulletproof. He even finds a long-sleeved shirt with a stylised ‘S’ shaped like a thorn in a gorgeous hunter green, and it makes him laugh like a complete idiot to imagine Bruce at the Manor, Windows Paint open as he brainstorms a new not-flying-vertebrate-related symbol.

He’s happier to wear a ratty shirt and a leather jacket out for nightwork, though. Jason’s working with Ivy, but that’s mostly because he just likes Pam; for every dirty corporate pig they almost kill, they spend as much time squatting in the woods somewhere eating vege tacos. He’s not anxious to become a new vigilante, especially not one under somebody else’s purview. Call him a coward, but as far as dead-end careers go, being Robin was, uh. Rough.

So he dresses in athleisure-meets-leather and mostly wears his special Sting shirt when the weather’s awful and Bruce still refuses to come inside for some reheated pizza. The shirt’s a little oversized, the lining is obscenely soft and warm, and it’s also waterproof, so in many ways it’s exactly perfect.

It’s on a shitty Gotham fall day, where it’s gone dark way too early and the rain comes down hard and somehow colder than fucking snow, when the milkweeds that Mrs. Faure three floors down grows in her window box yell up to say the Bat’s coming but he doesn’t seem well.

Delicacy and nuance are difficult things to pass along in the language of flowers, and ‘unwell’ could mean anything from a bit of a cough to literally on the verge of death, so Jason prepares accordingly. He shrugs into his armoured shirt and sweats, gets the gun out (because no matter what Pam says, it’s mighty helpful for a fledgling plant sorcerer to have something as fast as a speeding bullet, thanks) and finds his fully-stocked medkit. By the time Bruce is pounding on his window, Jason’s ready to handle everything up to and including a raging elephant.

Instead, it’s just Bruce with a massive gash in his side, mania in his eyes. Bruce looks Jason up and down and up and down, like he can’t quite believe his eyes, and struggles through the windowsill, almost crushing Jason’s carefully-cultivated wildgrass windowbox. “Jason,” he shouts, which is a clearer sign than anything else that he’s out of it, clearer even than a hole where the rest of an abdomen should be. “Jason, are you okay?” He lands on the floor, slips in a pile of dirty clothes and his own blood, and keeps struggling to head towards Jason.

Jason’s stunned one second, and shoving wads of gauze into the gaping wound the next. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” he says for lack of brainpower to think of anything better, communing with All Plants Ever and being informed by a god (or possibly Pam) that cacti have blood-clotting properties. Powers heightened in an emergency, his succulents step up to the plate and grow to enormous proportions, allowing Jason to rip off a stem, crush it to mush, and plug Bruce up. “What the hell happened?”

Bruce doesn’t seem to hear him, more concerned with checking Jason over, trying to take his pulse through the gauntlets. Whatever he sees seems to be enough for him, and he abruptly staggers back, back towards the window. “You’re alive, you’re fine, it’s fine,” Bruce says to himself like he’s trying to believe it, as he tries to take his leave.

That’s not going to happen, of course. An obliging spider plant hanging by the window grows big enough to wrap its leaves around Bruce and draw him to a standstill, and Jason’s already hauling Bruce to the bed. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, B? You’re lying the hell down while I call Alfred. Jesus, you’re a mess.”

“The wound is minor, I can lose another 15% of my blood volume without affecting my performance,” says the man currently outfoxed by some grass. “I just needed to make sure you were unharmed. There’s a fight I need to get back to.”

“Yeah, ‘course there is,” said Jason, completely unmoved. The cactus pulp seems to be doing its job, and the blood’s gone spectacularly gross and clumpy, but if that’s a Killer Croc bite infection’s going to be a bigger bitch than blood volume loss. He fires off a text to Alfred, then pauses. “Hang on, who’re you fighting, and where? Where’s your backup, anyways?”

Bruce is now sat on Jason’s bed, looking longingly at the fire escape. “It’s some sort of coordinated effort to set the city on fire.” He pauses, because they’re both looking out the window at the heavy rain and thinking, really? “We’re keeping on top of it, but that’s not going to last if I don’t stop Killer Croc and the Penguin from ganging up.”

“Uh huh, cool. Where were they, again?”

“Flooding out the hospital on 8th and Faber. Jason, I have to go -”

“Nope,” Jason tells him flatly, having sent a message along to Pam for a favour (at 8th and Faber). “You’re gonna wait till Alfie comes by to pick you up, and then I’m gonna go out and help mop up the mess.” He grabs the closest clean-looking shirt, and flicks a carbon fiber ear. “Open, I need to clean up your face and check for a concussion. What’re you doing here anyways?”

Bruce unlocks the cowl and pushes it off, and he looks about as rundown as usual, which is good. Jason wets his shirt with the plant spritzer that’s eternally on his bedside table, and rubs the dirt and debris off of Bruce’s face as he waits for a response that’s slow in coming.

“Penguin said that the Joker was rampaging across Crime Alley. It was just a distraction, but it worked,” Bruce says, sounding a little offended. “I was already heading this way by the time Dick radioed to say he’s got Joker contained with help from the Titans. I just. Wanted to check in with you.”

“Christ,” Jason swears, feeling that standard mix of irritation and mind-boggling fondness flood his brain in response to Bruce's blunt Bruce-ness. “You’re such an idiot. I shouldn’t be your first priority, B!”

Bruce just stares at him, shockingly calm for a man missing a lot of blood and bone. “Then what number priority are you supposed to be, Jay?”

There’s not much Jason can reply to that. For all the existential angst and the occasional roar of rage he feels towards Bruce, if he heard that something had gone terribly wrong with Bruce, anything short of god-level power would struggle to keep him away.

Sometimes when he thinks back to his resurrection, he wonders if he’d woken up in part because there’s an internal mechanism that kept worrying at him after his death, going What the fuck’s going to happen to the big guy with you gone, fuck, get up, get up, get UP!

Aw, hell. Pam was kind of a dick but also absolutely right when she said he’s got no interest in women, and to be fair his interest in men is pretty extremely limited too.

Bruce seems to take his silence as permission to go off and do something dumbfuck again, staggering up and surging towards the window, and in a moment of reactionary panic Jason grabs him by the cowl, tugs him back, and kisses him.

(“10 out of 10 times you’ll get your man,” Poison Ivy had told him as she rubbed at her lips with a wet wipe, CEO to an oil fracking company in a dead faint at her feet. “I can’t tell you how to know when your pheromones are strong enough for it to work work, but you’ll know when the time comes. Just keep disinfectant handy, because I have never met a man whose mouth was not a cesspit. No offense.”

Some offense taken, thanks, because he knows she’s kissed Batman before, and only a deeply ungenerous soul would describe the feeling of Bruce falling under your thrall as a ‘cesspit’.)

Bruce passes out in under 2 seconds flat, fall cushioned by a monstera coming in clutch. Jason looks down at him, thinks about what it means that the man with the most indomitable will in the whole stupid fucking world got taken out by a poison kiss, and screams “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” until Alfred breaks in with a gun in each hand, asking if Masters Jason and Bruce are quite all right.

Jason is an absolute mess when he goes for Ladies’ Night with Pam and Harley, as repayment for services rendered on that shitty, bloody night a couple of weeks ago now. Pam picks a beer garden because this late in the year it’s cold enough that they have the outdoors to themselves, and none of them really feel give a shit in the weather (Jason's got The Shirt on, after all).

First round of apple ciders and a giant bowl of piping hot cheesy nachos delivered, Harley tucks in with her customary gusto in the face of hot snack foods, while Pam just stares at Jason like she knows something.

Of course she does, Jason thinks bitterly. Pam’s a Higher Power, and he’d be damn surprised if his houseplants haven’t already ratted him out to her. “What?” he snarls, trying to fend off an uncomfortable conversation by being a bit of a dick.

It doesn’t work; if anything both women just look more amused. “What’s eatin’ you, Jay?” Harley says around a mouthful of nachos. “You and Pammy are makin’ eyes and not lettin’ me join in, which, by the way, dick move. Just spit it out already.”

Pam’s barely holding in her laughter at this point. “She’s right, Jason. Just lay it on us.”

Oh, lord, Dr. Pamela Isley really just did wink at him, oh my god.

“It wasn’t anything, okay! It was just a knock-out kiss, you kiss like a hundred people a month, it doesn’t mean anything.” He can control the blush, just barely, but that’s thanks to Bruce’s training, and thinking about training Bruce is Extremely Counterproductive, fuck.

Harley’s just openly applauding at this point, clearly deeply entertained. “Awwww, you laid a wet one on Big B, huh? Can’t blame you, jeezus, the thighs on that man.” She sighs, eyes going distant. “Plus! He was plenty nice to me after the break with Mr. J, and he sent us some real sweet weddin’ gifts, didn’t he, Pammy?”

Pam nods, still radiating amusement. “A waffle iron and sandwich press for Harley, and several endangered species of begonias that haven’t been successfully propagated in captivity for me. The man has beautiful penmanship.”

He does, Jason almost says, which really clearly highlights just how damn moony he is at this point in time. “We’re not… like that. He wouldn’t want that with me, okay, so can we just drop it?” He miserably drains his mug of cider, and wishes it was something with a lot more kick instead.

They kind of fall into a maudlin little lull, before Harley breaks the pause. “Hang on, hang on. Why wouldn’t he want you, kid, you’re plenty good-lookin’. Did you even try to seduce the guy? Get him some top-notch chocolates and roses for valentine? If Pam could stick her neck out and one-hit K.O. Mr. J to win me over, how’re you just sittin’ there all sad-like and giving up before you even made one grand gesture?”

Times like these Jason is sharply reminded that while Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy are usually rated Quirky Second-Class Villains by virtue of misogyny, they’ve both haunted and infected and protected Gotham for years and years and years, have PhDs, are weirdly unflappable and immoveable, and are in a loving, committed relationship. Times like these they catch him coming and going.

He knows that him being under Bruce’s care before he died makes for an awkward power dynamic that’s likely to stick in Bruce’s craw, even if it doesn’t really affect Jason’s intentions towards the man. He knows that it might break their slowly recovering relationship, might drive Bruce away, might shove a wedge in between him and the Bat family.

He knows all this, but fair play to Harley, he doesn’t know that Bruce is definitely, definitely going to shoot him down. He also doesn’t know what would happen if he sincerely makes an effort to make clear that he wants to be the steadying hand at Bruce’s back, the cacti pulp healing a festering wound, the window he clambers through when he’s in a blind panic.

“Ah, fuck,” he sighs, reaching over to steal Harley’s full glass, taking a deep swig of the sweet, fizzy cider. “I really fuckin’ hate it when you’re the one talking the most sense, Harl. If and when he breaks my heart, you two are responsible for wining and dining me for the rest of my depressing, shitty life, okay?”

“I’ll drink to that!” Harley toasts him, grabbing Pam’s glass to clink against Jason’s. “Go for it, kid. If anyone’s gonna make love grow in the barren ass desert of Big B’s moody edgy heart, it’s gonna be Pam or a Pam-adjacent. Grab that man by the balls, zombie bird!”

The rest of the night is filled by increasingly drunken plans to woo a man who can’t be wooed, and the brainstorming felt like it was going well to a bunch of tipsy dumbasses. How it ends, is that Jason wakes up the next morning in a hedge, head pounding and pocket filled with 5 napkins covered in incomprehensible scribbles and 3 separate iterations of a hairy cock-and-balls in lipstick.

Pretty tame, for Ladies' Night.

Life continues as normal after that. He gets needled by Pam and Harley for dragging his feet, but every time he opens his mouth to say something he imagines losing quiet time on his balcony with B, spiked lemonade resting between them. The kiss doesn’t get brought up, but there’s an almost literal itch on his lips whenever Jason looks at Bruce and the desire to take him and keep him rises up to his throat, and that’s just life now, apparently.

It’s a holding pattern that breaks unexpectedly one day, over the phone. Bruce almost never calls him, but they’ve taken to getting takeout whenever there’s enough of a lull in the night patrol to warrant a meal break for Batman, and sometimes there’s a call to check in on the general consensus re: Greek or Turkish food for supper.

His phone rings when he’s almost out of his flat, and Jason swears. He somehow hadn’t thought about Bruce tonight, not when Bruce hadn’t been around for the last anniversary. He answers, and tries not to sound like anything unusual is going on. “Hey, B, what’s up?”

“Jason. I am parked in front of that Chinese takeout by the greengrocer’s that sells lemongrass by the pound. Do you want the same dumplings you got last time?”

Be still my stupid fucking heart, it’s deeply uncool to mildly lose your mind when the man you’re deeply into remembers your takeaway order. “Sounds great, B, but listen. I have some stuff going on tonight, so I won’t be around to meet you. Sorry.”

Jason hopes and hopes and hopes that Bruce will just leave it, just take it as it is, but-

“There’s no significant criminal activity tonight, and none of Harley or Ivy’s usual targets are in the city. What’s going on?”

“Just a meetup with the two of ‘em, no big deal, B, nothing to worry about, it’s nothing,” Jason says, desperately trying to be cool.

Of course, it makes it worse.

“Jason, if you are in an emergency situation and a hostile is in the same room with you, say ‘I might go for the soup dumplings tonight’. I’m on my way.”

It’s rapidly spinning out of control, and Jason figures that if the gun’s about to go off he might as well pull the trigger. “You can’t, B, because I’m going out with Pam to get black-out drunk tonight ‘cos it’s the anniversary of me coming out of the ground, and if Ivy’s not near me I keep thinking I’m gonna get buried again. Do you understand why I have to cancel dinner now?”

He sounds harsh, he knows he sounds harsh, but something about the anniversary throws him back 6 feet underground, and Pam’s the only one who makes him feel safe when he’s got soil on the mind.

Bruce takes an eternity to respond to that, and when he does it’s just a quiet, helpless “Jaybird,” and Jason’s trying not to burst into tears right now, aaaah.

“It’s not the same as it was before. I’m not the same as I was before, B, and this is one of those things. You wanna hear another buck-wild thing, something new post-death and equally horrifying?” He hears his mouth, but doesn’t remember authorising any of these words.

“You can tell me anything, Jason. You can ask me for anything,” Bruce promises him, voice heavy and serious and trembling 'round the edges, clearly not reading the damned room.

Ah, he can’t stop the slightly hysterical laughter as he forces himself up and out of the flat, keen to get to Pam’s place before it’s fully dark. “The brand new thing, B, is that I’m pretty sure dying and coming back to life and living on my own kinda made me fall in love with you, and I kissed you and I liked it, and I just really, really want you to feel it back.” He sighs, and blinks his eyes dry. “But that’s a me problem, okay, and I’ve got a handle on it. I just….” Just want you to want me back, he doesn’t say, because it’s not ‘foist your problems onto Bruce who is quite often less equipped to handle problems than anyone gives him credit for’ day, contrary to how Gotham lives her fucking life. “I just need to cancel dinner,” he says instead, tired and dull.

“Jason,” he hears Bruce’s shock clear in his voice, and he just can’t take it. “Jason, I-”

He hangs up, because there’s a time and a place to deal with everything, and the time and the place to deal with Bruce’s rejection is not right here and right now.

Christ, no wonder some people become supervillains because of love; shit drives a man madder even than his resurrection.

Harley leaves on a big Birds of Prey mission to absolutely murder a gang of child traffickers the day after Jason’s anniversary, and she comes back a whole 4 months later with little more than a couple of chipped teeth, a line of stitches up her back, and a pet dingo.

Jason’s at Pam’s for lunch when she bursts through the door yelling “Honey, I’m home!” with zero irony, and he doesn’t even get to say hi, hello, before she takes one look at him and his myriad of hickeys and the mussed hair of a man getting lovingly laid on the regular, and screams “Robin, you sly freakin’ dog!”

Jason tries to vault to freedom and away from this mortifying encounter, jumping for an open window, but massive vines catch him by the waist, and he resigns himself to his terrible, terrible fate. “Hey, Harley,” he tells her, and prepares for the most excruciating lunchtime of his life.

“Jason, stop!” Bruce calls out, even though he’s suspended upside down, limbs spread apart by coiling vines thicker than his wrist. “I know you don’t want to do this! Let me down; whatever’s happened to you, I can help.”

Jason moves out from behind the long, sweeping fronds of a palm, green-tinted and mostly nude. “That’s where you’re wrong, B,” he says, stepping closer to caress Bruce’s jaw, scratching at barely-there stubble with nails sharper than thorns. “This is the truest me you’re ever gonna get.” He licks his lips, partly for effect, partly to check his pheromone levels. God, he almost doses himself up, and it’s a delight to imagine what will happen to Bruce when he gets a taste.

“Stop, no, I don’t want this-!”

Too late. Jason holds Bruce steady as he kisses him, messy and with teeth. He bites on Bruce’s lips till he bleeds, brushes tongue against tongue, scratches welts into the fine skin of his cheeks, and doesn’t stop until he can feel Bruce panting and writhing under his hands, breathing coming in quicker and quicker. “Now you do, B,” Jason tells him, gently tugging the cowl off.

The fingerprint scanner on the master lock still recognises his prints, oh, god.

Bruce looks dazed, more out of it even than when he’s concussed. Pupils blown wide, he clearly struggles to focus on Jason, and he doesn’t do much more than growl when he’s unmasked.

He’s a sight, and it makes Jason giddy all at once. “God, B,” Jason says, “I know what you want, I know better’n you.” He presses another kiss to Bruce’s mouth, lets it linger and lets it soak. “I’m going to take care of you. Gonna take care of you right here in the greenhouse, right where Alfie might just come by if he figures he needs some herbs.” He moves a hand to Bruce’s chest, feels it heaving underneath the armour. “Anyone could walk in and see you like this, and you’d thank me for that, thank me for showing you off, wouldn’t you?”

Bruce tries to mount a protest, tries to struggle as Jason pulls his gauntlets off one at a time, leaving sharp bites all over Bruce’s hands, lingering on his pulse, on his scars. Bruce tries to stop the full-body shivers, but the most urgent feeling assaulting him is a sharp thrill at being seen like this, vulnerable and completely under Jason’s thrall. He grasps on to a vine with his left hand, and holds on.

By the time Jason has Bruce maneuvered onto his back, still suspended by the vines but bare-chested now, Bruce is sunk. There’s a haze over everything, and he’s drowning under the strength of Jason’s powers, the muggy heat of the greenhouse, the forced capitulation in bondage. It’s been years and years and years since he had last been this pliant and helpless, and it burns him up inside that he has no choice in this, that when Jason puts his mouth to him, sets his teeth against Bruce’s collarbone and bites, all he feels is dumb pleasure.

“That’s it,” Jason whispers against skin, “go down, take what I’m giving you.” A thought sends vines curling around Bruce’s pants, tugging them down, baring him to the open quiet of the greenhouse. “You’re a good boy; you scowl and struggle, act like a big Bat man, but this ,” emphasised by a squeeze of Bruce’s cock, “this is what you need .” A kiss to a navel, a bite at a hip, a hickey on an inner thigh. “Trussed up and spread out, just for me.”

The words rock the dreamy state a little; Bruce doesn’t and has never equated anything about his pleasure to a need. There are far too many important things to legitimately need for him to ever prioritise his desires, and it takes him out of it. Bruce doesn’t need this , it’s just a ploy to let Jason’s poison sink in deeper! He starts to struggle, realising that he’s completely undressed now, Jason’s idle hands drawing little welts up and down his thighs. “That’s not true,” he snarls, trying to free his hands. “Let me go!”

A thin vine wraps around Bruce’s throat in a threat, and Jason digs his claws into a bare belly. “And what part of it’s untrue, B?” With his other hand, he leisurely strokes Bruce’s hard cock, slick with sap. “This?” He squeezes, a shade too hard. “You even notice that you’ve been trembling this whole time? Poor Bruce, I don’t think you even mean half the shit that comes out your mouth.” A slight gesture, and the vine around Bruce’s neck twines once, twice, and snakes into his mouth, filling it completely. “There, I’ve taken care of your lying for you. Shouldn’t you thank me?”

In a fit of desperation, Bruce squeezes once around the vine that’s trapped his right hand, putting all his strength into it, hoping it’ll work, hoping…

Jason just laughs. “Good enough, I guess.” The claws pull away, and he starts jerking Bruce off faster, delighting in the little twitches in the hips and thighs that not even the great Bat can contain. “Let’s fill you up a little more, yeah?”

Bruce groans around the vine that starts fucking his throat, tries to pretend that it’s from revulsion, that the lack of control doesn’t just make him harder and dizzier.

Nothing could stop him from groaning when he feels a curious prod at his hole, slick with sap and too cool to be human. The vine works its way in, slow and ceaseless, and by the time Jason finally gets it to stop Bruce struggles to do anything more than just gasp and bite down, teeth glancing uselessly off the vine in his mouth.

“You’re fine,” Jason soothes him, rubbing absently at Bruce’s stuffed throat. “You love this, I can tell. How’s about we get you off, B, and we can experiment more with your limits?” At that, Jason moves his hand down to curiously press on where skin is stretched taut around a wrist-thick vine, and the sensation, the threat of more has Bruce convulsing, squeezing down hard on the vines around his hands.

Jason pauses his hands for a moment at that, head cocked like he’s trying to hear something through the plants, but soon enough he’s rubbing his thumb against Bruce’s hole, thorny nails retracted and gone, just a point of warmth where Bruce cannot take any more.

“C’mon, B,” Jason coaxes him, grip tight around his cock, wicked sharp thumbnail teasing the cockhead with every pass. “Give me what I want, so I can give you what you want, yeah?”

The capacity to think about what he wants has long since escaped Bruce; all he knows is that Jason is asking him for something, and this deep under all he wants to do is give Jason what he wants. His body seizes tight, his breathing is far too fast, and the only real thing in the world is Jason holding him, round the neck and the limbs and his cock, and it’s overwhelming to the point of madness.

Without warning and without preamble, Jason pushes his thumb in and up, and Bruce is screaming as he comes all over himself, all over Jason’s hand.

“Oh, baby,” he hears Jason murmuring all soft and awed. Bruce doesn’t have the ability to think about how Jason sounds, because Jason doesn’t stop.

Bruce loses all he has left of himself and passes out some time around the third finger that Jason pushes in, choked and completely, utterly full-up, echoes of praise following him on his way out.

Romance is dead, and Bruce Wayne killed it.

Afterglow happens to other people, and Jason hates and envies all of them. He just gets a debrief, and it took weeks just to negotiate it into a proper conversation instead of a deeply alarming Powerpoint presentation. It took a couple more weeks on top of that to get Bruce to relent to a spot of naked cuddling during what counts as aftercare for Batman, though for that fight Jason had been willing to go all-in and wait Bruce the hell out because sometimes (often! times!) Bruce really doesn’t know best.

So no using the board room in the Cave, no projectors, yes bare skin. It’s fertilizer for the soul, bitch.

They're huddled together in a bed of moss, which is soft and springy but also unfortunately, worryingly damp. To keep dry and warm, Bruce is wrapped up in his cape and cradled in Jason’s lap, clear of the ground. At least, he’s as cradled as a man can be when a man is over 6 feet of battle-hardened muscle.

God help him, Jason thinks it’s fucking cute to see Bruce bare but for his cape, face serious, datapad in hand to do a play-by-play of their most recent scene. Nothing about his life now seems like a reasonable progression from him clawing his way out of a coffin, it’s a pretty giant leap even from the first night he found Bruce out on his stoop and started to think about more, but as Pam would (cryptically) say, plant-willing, all things are possible.

Jason gives Bruce the few minutes he needs to find his centre and record what he wants to keep, and occupies his time with an extra thousand or so sharp-toothed hickeys dug into taut shoulders. “Lemme know when you’re ready for a breakdown, B,” he says, mouth full of skin. A grapevine verdant with fruit manifests nearby, and he starts feeding Bruce some grapes to fend off Bruce’s almost instinctive desire to knock back coffee after exertion. The day he can figure out how to make hydrangeas fetch him a sandwich, he'll finally ascend to his rightful place as Best Dom in the World.

To be fair, he might already be, since he has a lap full of fucked-pliant Bruce.

“Overall, this was a very satisfying scene,” Bruce says matter-of-factly, as though he’s not still buck-naked and loose-limbed, head doing its level best to burrow under Jason’s chin despite the extreme lack of free real estate. “I believe in a few weeks’ time, we’ll be able to meet your target of dual-penetration in the same orifice.”

God. Sexiness has just now been murdered, also struck down by Bruce Wayne.

“B, we have definitely talked about using the word ‘orifice’, c’mon, stop fucking with me.” He tries to jog his knee and it goes absolutely nowhere, because Bruce is heavy enough that Jason hasn’t actually felt his feet in a while. “But I definitely noticed that you were all gorgeous and relaxed and loose. I’m gonna get to fuck you alongside a vine in no time.” Jason noses at the side of Bruce’s head, nudges him into a kiss. “You did so fuckin’ well, Bruce.”

That does the trick, as Jason knew it would. Bruce shudders in his hold, still far gone enough that praise goes straight to his head and out his limbs, and add another tick for that Best Dom in the world award, because Jason doesn’t even tease him about it. “Anything else? Used lianas this time instead of grapevines, how’re your allergies?” Jason’s already checked, of course, and there were no red welts on Bruce’s limbs, but a good horticulturalist knows that not all issues are visible.

Get you a case of root rot, and a plant that looks completely alright today could be completely dead the day after. For a whole host of reasons, Jason’s going to keep a careful hand and eye on Bruce; this is part of his duty of care.

Almost on cue, Bruce holds his hand up right to Jason’s face, showcasing a gorgeous rash-free bruise starting up around his wrist.

Jason kisses it.

“Lianas work. And three squeezes for red, one squeeze for green is a good system, especially with you checking in so often.” Bruce pauses for a moment, an internal struggle in a lifetime of internal struggles. Jason gives him space and time, and is sweetly, sweetly repaid with “I felt safe.”

Damn right you should, Jason thinks and carefully doesn’t say, but the grapevine’s sprouting grapes like its life depends on it, and little wildflowers are pushing up through their mossy blanket. Goddamn, discreet he ain’t. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, voice a little rough. “Don’t go soft on me though, big guy. Anything I did wrong?”

“Just the one,” Bruce says, missing Jason’s little scrape of emotion as he puts aside the datapad and sprawls across Jason’s body. With the debrief out of his system, it��s now time for a restorative nap. In Jason’s apartment with the plants doing their best to look as lush as they would in a greenhouse, he’s safe and he doesn’t need to get up and get dressed and get away as soon as possible. “The dirty talk could do with some work. I might need you, Jay, but I don’t need this.” He pulls the cape up over his head, because if he’s going to sleep he’s going to do in pitch darkness, thanks. “It’s just a want,” he gets out in a tired growl, already halfway asleep. “I just want it, with you.”

And Bruce is out like a light, already softly snoring, and Jason just has to sit there and endure, because he just wants to scream and also maybe take Bruce under again after that bitch of a confession.

Instead, he squirms and gets the vines to help him into a slightly more comfortable recline without jostling Bruce, and plans out just how hideously smug he’s going to be the next night out with Pam and Harley.

(The answer is Very Extremely Smug, thanks!!)

a/n: it’s been a mentally and emotionally grueling fucking year, and i just want to write stories where people love each other and they’re at least a little happy _(:3」∠)_ jesus, what a year (lemon, it’s fucking june)

#jason todd #bruce wayne #jaybru #batman #harleen quinzel #pamela isley #poison ivy #harlivy #whale writing #kinkmeme fill #i think i spent as much time formatting and spellchecking as i did on writing the fill itself god #i sure do like me some slow-build burst of dumb fluorishing love #it's been a shitty ole year #let's just try to hang in there #c'mon now

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bohemian-nights · 1 year

Note

From what we can grasp, Daemon is protective of Nettles but how possessive do you think he'd be if someone shows intrest in (courting) Nettles?

Well first off this man would have to be very brave/stupid to try and court Nettles knowing that Daemon is probably lurking in the shadows somewhere🤣It does not matter if this is before or while they are at Maidenpool, Daemon is going to invite the man to a “friendly” sparing session in the training yard so they can duke it out get to know one another better 🙃

Now I don’t think he’ll kill him, à la what he did to Laena’s betrothed in the books, or seriously maim him like he did with that messenger in episode 3. Nettles would be completely turned off by such a strong display of "affection”😅

However, the man’s going home with some bumps and bruises (possibly a sprain). He’ll definitely be left contemplating why he ever thought it was a good idea in the first place to try to court the Rogue Prince’s girl 🤷🏽‍♀️

Bonus points that the little sparing session helps send the message that Nettles is taken and if anyone wants to pull a stunt like that again good luck to them 😅

#daemon will not miss an opportunity to show off his skills🤺#especially in front of netty 😏#dattles ask #daemon x nettles #hotd ask #dattles #dettles #daemon targaryen x nettles #daetty #daemon targaryen #nettles #bnheadcanon #bnask #bnasks #bnhotdasks #bnhotdask

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reasonsmycompanionsarescreaming · 4 years

Note

Not A Statistic/Reason: given the choice between adopting Young Amelia Pond or Courtney (the kid who was in a few Capaldi episodes) to be your daughter, who would you choose?

I do not trust myself to be a good enough influence to help Amelia not grow up to be so obnoxious, although I would hope that any child I raised would grow up to know to get consent before they kissed someone, if nothing else.

I feel like I’d get along with Courtney better, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to being a good parent, which is the most important thing here. The question really is, would I be able to raise either of these girls into an emotionally healthy adult?

Upon reflection, it seems to me that most of Amelia’s emotional instability and lack of respect for other people’s needs and emotions as an adult probably stems from the way her experiences were treated as a child. Her emotional distance is quite possibly related, if not necessarily directly caused by the fact that her experiences were not taken seriously. If a child is put into therapy for telling the truth to your guardian, that child is going to be less likely to open up to their guardian about other things.

Does this mean that if I was raising a child and found her waiting in the garden one morning, holding a suitcase and saying that a strange man came into her room in the middle of the night and offered to take her away, I would assume that man was a time-travelling alien? No. My first thoughts would be A) fairy B) paedophile C) paedophilic fairy D) someone with the mistaken impression I have enough money to pay a ransom.

And, okay, so spraying Amelia’s room with nettle water and driving iron nails into her windowframes, doorframes, and warding her mirrors would do exactly jack shit to slowing down the Doctor, but I wouldn’t know that in this situation. Furthermore, what it would do is prove to Amelia that I will take her experiences seriously, even if they sound outlandish, and that hey, maybe if a strange man shows up in the middle of the night and offers to take you away, you run for your parents and not his spaceship.

And when we get down to it, the Doctor is a supernatural entity that enjoys messing with people, promises wonderful things beyond imagining, takes people away, and does not necessarily put them back in the same time and or place they found them in. Except for the fact that iron nails don’t work for warding him off, that’s close enough to a fairy in my book.

So, I guess even though I don’t like adult Amelia as a character, I think I’d be more use to child Amelia than to Courtney. And that is really what must be taken into account when raising a child, isn’t it?

#Amy Pond #not a scream #v i c t i m o f t h e w h i g s

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missvifdor · 5 years

Text

When I arrive in Middle-earth [Part 1]

Warning: Hi ! It's just to warn that English is not my mother tongue. I apologize if you encounter errors in your reading. Part two is being written. In any case, I hope you enjoy :) Enjoy reading !

I also draw the introductory image :)

Well... Well, well, well... I must not panic. Everything is fine.

After all, I'm just surrounded by a dark forest in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.

-But what am I saying ? Obviously I'm panicking ! I cried, raising my arms to the sky.

The high sound of my voice in icy silence frightened some birds that flew away, panicked! I want to burst into tears...

I'm going to die in a dark forest and my corpse will be devoured by foxes and squirrels.

-My consolation prize will be that they will not have much to eat, I thought, in a random sense.

Indeed, I am one of those people with the body of an asparagus. An asparagus with glasses and the size of an underfed house elf.

I jump ! An owl hoot somewhere !

-Highness of volatile...

I sigh and squint in the hope of seeing more clearly. It does not work at all.

[...]

I want to go around in circles for hours and yet I have no idea what time it is ! Or how long am I here !

However, I had time to hit my foot against a lonely pebble to make a very friendly hug on the ground, ride a stream of nettles and land in a calm cove. My life is magic !

I look so silly with my little red summer dress stuck to my skin, my tangled hair and my uncontrollable cold !

-I hate nature ! I hate this forest ! And I hate myself even more for Bugger all ! I cried, furious.

But I think the worst part of all this is that I have to be lobster red. I could not resist the urge to scratch myself because of nettle bites.

[...]

Do you want to know one thing ? Well, I do not have shoes anymore.

They started giving me blisters and cramps. So, I left them on the side of the road without any regret.

And the day begins to rise too, but I'm not too sure. My eyes are swollen with fatigue and I am dehydrated. I may have hallucinations.

-Hehe ... Hehehe.

And there I laugh alone, now ! I really need help here.

The birds start to sing and it makes me even more eager to take a nap on the floor. My body is so heavy ! And my glasses are still dirty...

I yawned for a long time.

I'm so tired, but I have to keep moving !

Suddenly, I stop and clean my glasses on my dress which, do not hide it, had seen better days !

I put my glasses on my nose and...

-The exit !

I run like crazy ! I'm so happy and relieved to be finally out of this tangle of trees that... I fall into the apples and put the cheek first on the wet grass under the morning dew...

[...]

I'm fine, there! It's warm and cozy !

-I must be in bed, I thought, holding back a happy little smile, eyes still closed. What an idea to dream of being lost in a forest !

I change position under the sheets and push my face even more in the soft pillow. I think I could sigh with happiness !

I even want to go back to sleep. But I know I can not do it... too bad.

I get up, appear in a sitting position and stretch like a cat. I put my hand in my hair to put it away from my face, then looked for my glasses on the bedside table.

Being short-sighted and astigmatic, a real pleasure...

-Oh, you're awake ! Here I am relieved, miss !

I give my three neurons time to connect correctly and quickly put back my glasses.

I now see a complete stranger holding a tray of food in the doorway of my room which is not my room !

I take a moment to lift the blanket !

-Merlin thank you, I still have my clothes ! I sighed with relief. -Miss? -Hmm ? I look up at him. Oh ! Hmm ... Excuse me, but ... Where am I ?

The stranger advanced to the bed and put the meal tray on my lap with a reassuring smile.

-Do not worry, you're at home, replied the stranger, still smiling. I found you a little further behind my house. You were completely cold! And do not worry, I did not touch your stuff in your bag, I would never allow myself such a thing, especially with a lady !

The poor man seemed panicked at the idea that I imagine him searching my things. I laugh, amused and a little moved by his behavior.

-Do not worry, I believe you and I thank you for taking care of me, I said a little timidly but warmly. Hey, but I do not have any...

My eyes fell on a shoulder bag that I knew very well. Oh yes, I had a bag !

-I introduce myself, my name is Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins ! -Nice to meet you, Mr. Baggins, my name is Isabelle, I introduced myself by extending my hand to shake him.

Bilbo smiled at me and gently squeezed my hand.

-I am delighted, he said. I'm really happy to see you're fine ! Rest as much as you want and eat, you seem to be hungry! If you need me, call and I will come. -Okay, thank you, I said. Could you give me my bag, please? I have to take my medicine before eating. -Of course !

He moves quickly and passed my bag amiably.

I give him back his smile and watch him leave the room. I take this opportunity to examine when he turns to leave the room and my eyes are on his huge bare feet and hairy !

My eyes widen and the memory comes back to me !

-Heheh... Hahahahah !

I laugh nervously. But how could I be so stupid !

This guy is the spitting image of Martin Freeman, the actor of Bilbo, the actor of John ! But I'm stupid ! I am stupid !

-I am in Middle-earth, at Bilbo the Hobbit ! Perfect !

I feel my nerves and my anxiety galloping and frantically searching for my medicine in my bag !

It's a blow to make me even more worried than in life in general !

Seriously, what happened ?! I crossed an invisible space-time portal ?!! I died while boarding a bus and my soul transported me to another universe ?!! I had a cardiac arrest because of all my braids ?!!

I quickly grab the glass of water on the tray and I swallow all of a sudden !

Then I take the time to breathe well, because they recommended me and I feel calm again.

I calm down for another two or three minutes and then I try to see the positive side...

I have always dreamed of meeting my favorite characters and having an adventure with them !

-But I can not even defend myself with my little fists and I burst into tears at the sight of a wounded animal ! I mumbled darkly.

It would be cool to learn new things, to eat new dishes and to make friends !

-I am extremely introverted, shy, I get sick easily and I have phobias of wasps and bees ! I continued to myself.

I could find love, who knows...!

-Be realistic, who would want a burden and a stuck girl like me...? I finished sadly.

Bitterness, I grabbed the sandwich that Bilbo had so kindly prepared and I started chewing.

-It is delicious...

I finish fast enough to eat. Bilbo really cooks like a chef. I have never eaten so well.

I smiled slightly, spread the blankets, then put my sore feet on the soft carpet at the foot of the bed.

I hiss with pain as I get up slowly. Wherever I could lean on my feet, it was on a swollen and painful bulb !

But I decide to keep my comments painful for myself and get out of the room, the meal tray in hand.

Every step deserves a burning insult in my head!

Slowly, I arrive in the vestibule and soon after, I find the kitchen. I wash the dishes that I dirty.

-Oh, you are standing !

I jump and turn, a hand on my leaping heart ! But I find my calm when I see that it's Bilbo.

-Yes, I did the dishes, I said, pointing to the plate I was drying. -Oh, you did not have to, you know, Bilbo frowning. -I took it, it's the least of things !

The Hobbit's eyebrows furrowed a little more. Now that I was standing next to him, I could see him fall on my shoulder !

It was weird to see an adult being smaller than me ! I have already seen grannies do my size, but it was new !

Suddenly, Bilbo put his fists on his hips.

-Have you seen the condition of your legs ? You should rest ! -Mr. Baggins, I'm fine, I lied to reassure him. -And you lie very badly my daughter ! Go ! Go to bed in the living room !

I do what he says to me with surprise !

Well... This is the first time anyone notices that I'm lying about my condition...

I hardly come to the salon, my feet still hurt! I almost collapsed in the nearest chair !

Bilbo does not take long to join me, a kit and small pots in the hands.

He takes a little ottoman to sit down and grabbed one of my legs not without blushing a little. I guess for him it was a pretty intimate gesture.

-I think I've had enough for your wounds, but if you're in doubt, tell me what happened to you, he asked, examining the redness, bruises, and scratches. -I wandered all night in the forest, I came across a rock that made me kiss for the first time, I continued my momentum by going in a field of nettles and finally, I landed in a stream...

The Hobbit looked at me speechless.

-I've had some unlucky and awkward Hobbits, but I think you're in first place ! Bilbo said with a small, mocking smile.

-Eh ! In my defense, I really did not see anything !

I hear him trying to suppress his laughter so I take a slightly sulky look that looks like a child.

It's hard to believe for me that I'm so hostile to be so comfortable with someone I've met !

-I think I have everything I need. But it is best to apply an ointment on clean skin. I think Bag End is always full of my mother's old dresses from when she was young, wait, I'll pick them up.

Bilbo smiled at me and got up and went out of the living room.

[...]

Half asleep in a deliciously hot and scented water, I massaged my aching areas by humming a song that made no sense.

I even allowed myself the luxury of washing my hair.

Once I'm clean, I put the right cream on my redness and bruises before putting bandages on my scratches.

-I would say that I fought with a bear ! I commented, looking at myself in the mirror of the bathroom.

Then I pulled on the outfit that Bilbo had given me.

I went back to the living room where Bilbo was waiting for me reading a book. He had also taken the opportunity to light the fireplace. I had not noticed it until now, but it was late in the day, the sun was just beginning to fall.

When he hears me coming back, he looks up from the page he's reading and gestures me to sit on the chair next to him.

-This dress looks great on you, I'm relieved that it does not stay in an old dust chest, smiles the Hobbit. -Thank you Mr. Baggins.

I sit next to him.

-Well. Now that you seem to be in a better state than where I found you, I would like to know what happened to you so that you would find yourself wandering in a forest in the middle of the night, wearing only a much too light dress for you. the season.

Bilbo seemed very serious.

I sigh, sinking a little deeper into the cushions of the chair.

It seems like a very serious discussion was about to begin...

- Honestly, I do not remember... I have no memory of how I landed there. All I know is that I woke up in this forest... I was completely disoriented and scared ! -I want to believe you, Bilbo admitted. The woods are not safe when you get too far from Hobbiton, there are wolves running.

I feel my throat tighten ! Shit ! I was much more likely to be eaten by wolves than by foxes and squirrels !

Seeing that the news had shaken me, Bilbo grabbed my left hand and patted me softly.

-Do not worry anymore, you're safe now, the Hobbit said with a reassuring voice. Do you want a hot drink? -With pleasure if you do not mind, Mr. Baggins, I said with a slight smile.

Bilbo smiles at me and gets up.

-I'm coming back, he announces.

I hear him go to the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with tea, milk, sugar and biscuits.

-This is hawthorn tea, you will see that it will be good for your nerves. I noticed that you were an extremely stressed person. -Thank you so much.

And so, I explain to him more or less generally that I am absolutely not from Middle-earth and that I have nowhere to go.

-I noticed you had a very beautiful accent, Bilbo said. Where are you from ? -From France, this is the country where I was born and where I live... Finally inhabited. And thank you but for my part, I find my accent horrible ! It seems strange when I speak ! -In any case, I appreciate your company and you can stay here as much as you want !

I blush a little, embarrassed.

-Do not give yourself this trouble, Mr. Baggins ! You have already cared for me, fed and dressed ! I would not like to enjoy your kindness ! I exclaimed, red peony. I do not want to disturb you more than necessary ! -But you do not bother me absolutely, Bilbo assured warmly. I find instead that you are a wonderful, polite and kind guest ! And then it is me who proposes it to you, so there is not to discuss ! I am normally someone who does not like to receive a lot, but I do not know, with you I feel at ease and your presence could make me feel less alone. -But...! -No "but" ! You are free to live in Bag End all the time you need until you find a stable situation to live in the area or to return home !

I remain silent for a moment, stunned and moved by this little Hobbit so nice !

-Mr. Baggins... -Yes ? He asked curiously. -You are sure not to be an angel descended from heaven to watch over me ? I asked with a sincere little smile.

Bilbo turns red, and I burst out laughing at his embarrassment as he smiled shyly, mumbling thanks.

[...]

It's been a year since we live together, Bilbo and me.

The beginnings were not easy, for example, it was necessary to create a schedule for the bathroom or buy a women's business that Bilbo did not have.

But we got used to each other's presence and I started to feel really comfortable in Bag And.

The neighborhood hobbits also knew me very well now.

I even created my small business !

The old Belladonna dresses that Bilbo had given me were beautiful, certainly, but they did not fit my style. So I learned to sew and I started to change these dresses.

When I came to Hobbiton with my modified dresses, hobbits women started to want the same style and I soon realized that I could make money helping these young women with dresses they did not wear anymore and that they wanted to actualize.

The ambience of Hobbiton also helped me with my stress and anxiety for everything and anything. Here, I could live at my own pace and enjoy the sweet life of Hobbit.

I even think that I was a Hobbit in a previous life. Or at least, I had to be a distant cousin of Bilbo because we were on the same wavelength for just about everything !

Today was extremely calm, I visited a customer and went to the Bree market to buy new items.

And since I had work to do, I did not want to embarrass myself with a dress, that's why I was wearing this outfit:

On the way back, it was getting darker and cooler than it was a few hours ago.

A few Hobbits trailing in front of them greeted me, but I felt that it was not as usual. They knew something that I did not know...

So I hurried and I did not make a mistake !

There seemed to be far too much excitement in Bag End, not to mention the strange sign engraved on the freshly repainted door of last week !

-Oh no... Trouble starts... I thought, squeezing my wicker basket against my right hip.

Without waiting a minute longer, I push the door of Bag End and enter the entrance. I take the time to put my wicker basket before looking at the extent of the damage.

-....

The floor was in ruins ! This same floor where I spent so much time cleaning it to shine like new! What do I say so that we can see ourselves as in a mirror !

I waxed this floor ! I was on all fours at this floor !

That's when my eyes land on a shape on the floor that should not be there !

-Bilbo !

My poor Hobbit is lying on the carpet, fainting !

I squatted next to him and tried to make him regain consciousness by masterfully ignoring the crowd of Dwarves and the magician who watch me do in silence !

Bilbo still has not opened his eyes and I panic slightly.

-Hey ! Do not stand there watching and help me move it into the living room ! You see that with my nonexistent muscles I can not do it alone ! I cried angrily.

As if he was coming out of a trance, I see the dwarf that I suspect is Bofur helping me lift Bilbo to lie on the living room couch.

The advantage of living with a Hobbit with the taste of sarcasm and the Took side is that I totally lost my shy side and that I have much more confidence in myself.

The dwarf with the funny hat mumbles things that look like excuses. He seems to feel really guilty with his beaten dog look...

Yeah... I do not have time for her feelings, the important thing is to wake up my roommate Hobbit !

-I'm really sorry, I did not think Mr. Baggins would react this way, stammered Bofur, his cheeks turning pink. -Hmm, I growl. Since you seem to feel so worried, would you be so kind as to prepare tea, sir...? -Bofur ! At your service, miss...? -Isabelle.

The dwarf smiled at me timidly and headed for the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I see others watching me with curiosity and murmurings.

I roll my eyes and after a few more attempts, Bilbo regains consciousness.

Bofur returns sometime later with a cup of tea. I thank him and pour Wiscky into the tea.

Bilbo does it only when he's really exhausted, and I think he was in those moments.

The Hobbit seems to be comforting to see me and I smiled tenderly as I ran my hand through his honey-colored curls to calm him down.

-So Honey, did you have a fun night ? I asked with a smirk. -They emptied the whole pantry! Nothing is left ! And I'm terribly sorry for the floor, Isabelle... I know you spent a lot of time...

I frown.

-I do not care about the floor. And you ? You ate ?

Bilbo shook his head from side to side, sheepishly. I'm still sighing.

-You are lucky, I crossed the Bree market today ! I will prepare something for you !

I lean over and kiss his temple. Then I went to get my wicker basket, still superbly ignoring the looks that followed me at every step.

But hey... They're "guests", so...

-I hope you enjoy the reception of Bag End ? I say with a sarcastic smile. However, I will ask you to be kind enough to clean up your mess when you finish your little meeting. As you have probably already seen, my dear friend Bilbo was "slightly" shaken.

... But I always blame them for disgusting our house, for moving all the items and for having conscientiously eaten all the food, including the remains of my chocolate fondant !

It is now the turn of the dwarves to look sheepish.

-Excuse us, ma'am, we did not think Mr. Baggins had a wife, apologized a Dwarf with a white beard and a special accent. -You know if Bilbo to a woman or not, it does not matter. When you arrive at someone's place, you take off your shoes to avoid getting dirty, you ask before using it without any embarrassment, you do not wipe your boots full of mud on the family objects of the host and we avoid especially to scare him ! All I just mentioned are etiquette rules, but that, I guess you already know ?

An icy silence falls in the audience.

I use my most stern look against them and go to the kitchen to prepare a dinner for Bilbo who did not have a chance to swallow his.

[...]

The dwarfs all sleep in the living room and the other rooms (and they have everything tidy and clean as promised).

I had the opportunity to get to know Gandalf. He seemed very amused, I think he wants me to join the company... And I know I do not have a choice.

From the first hour tomorrow morning, Bilbo will start to catch up and leave for Erebor... I do not want to let him go alone.

Oh, I know he'll be able to cope, that's not the problem.

But I will not stop worrying to ask myself every day if he is well, if he is cold, if he is hungry, if the company treats him well !

So I made the decision to come with him, like it or not !

Anyway, I knew that day would come, so I secretly practiced defending and healing.

I also met Thorin. How to say...?

He is taller than me (I can barely reach his shoulder !). And he tried to intimidate me with his great deep voice and his striking blue eyes. But I showed him that I was not at all impressed (inside, I panicked like never before !).

I also remember making the other dwarves nervous, mainly by my stern look as I tried to look confident.

But brief. Now everyone sleeps, Bilbo sleeps, I'll be able to prepare our things so that we do not forget anything tomorrow morning.

I first went to a trusted neighbor to give him the Bag End replacement key and to make sure that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins withdrew and did not touch our stuff.

I prepared extra bags with a clean alternative, my savings, a care kit and creams for bites. I even took our umbrellas !

I go to bed late that night and hope to get up on time.

[...]

The next day, silence reigns in Bag End. It's hard for me to get out of sleep, but I always try to push my blankets over and put on my dressing gown without taking the time to tie it up.

My lazy feet are hanging out in the living room.

They are always there, I am well on time.

I then look in the kitchen.

-Hmm... I'll have to go to the bakery... I mumbled.

I sigh, I tie my dressing gown, I put on shoes and I go quickly to the bakery.

I am the first customer of the day.

-Do you really need all this ? Ask the baker, incredulous.

I smile at him.

- I'm afraid, yes. Sir, have a nice day. -Good day to you too !

When I return to Bag End, some dwarves have also immersed themselves, including Bifur, Balin and Dori. They made tea for everyone.

-I brought back enough to give energy to everyone before departure ! I announced, looking more friendly than last night.

The three dwarves seem surprised by my new attitude and obviously do not seem to know how to react.

I roll my eyes.

-You behaved like pigs last night, but I do not blame you anymore, you cleaned up everything and that's what counts. Eat while it's still hot, everything I bring comes out of the oven.

The three dwarves smile at me, a little warmer to the touch. I return it to them and see Bilbo in his room.

It is out of the question that I start running behind ponies to catch up with dwarves and a magician !

[...]

I avoided the disaster !

Bilbo was going to ask to turn around to get his precious handkerchief and I put the cloth under his nose before he could open his mouth.

-Thank you Isabelle ! You really think of everything ! Bilbo said gratefully. -We're a team, Honey, do not ever forget it, I said, winking at him.

We continue our journey for a while, until I smile, amused by the discomfort of my little Hobbit on his pony.

-Relax, Bilbo, He will not eat you. -This is the first time I ride a pony... he admits. -I noticed, I said. Relax your shoulders, you're much too tense and stop pulling too hard on the reins, you'll hurt your horse.

He follows my advice and then looks at my posture.

-You look so comfortable ! You never told me you knew how to ride ! -It really goes back a very long time in my childhood, when I went on trips discovered with my classmates. -Really ?! Did your parents let you travel alone with other children ?! -Oh, I was not alone! I reassured him. We were accompanied by our teacher and three parents to monitor us during the activities of the trip. It was very fun and we learned a lot. We even went to the sea ! -You really saw the ocean ?!

I turn around and see Ori, who blushes with embarrassment but his eyes sparkle with curiosity. I give him a reassuring smile.

-Yes, I really went there. Often even. I went with my family most of the time! And you, Ori ? Have you ever seen the sea ?

The young dwarf blushed and answered shyly.

-No, never, he replies. You know, we dwarves are not made for this kind of place, we live in montages. But I really want to go at least once and draw that kind of landscape ! -And I wish you, Ori. The sea is very pleasant in hot weather, so you can swim and play in my waves!

The young dwarf takes a dreamy look, surely imagining his feet in the sand with the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea.

Subsequently we continue to get to know each other.

[...]

I look at the sky.

-Hum, Bilbo takes this. Quick.

I pass Bilbo his heavy coat, his waterproof travel cape and his umbrella. He puts them quickly without arguing, but I can still see he wonders "why?".

-Ori ! I called the young dwarf. Comes quickly ! Come next to me !

Curious, the young scribe brings his pony next to mine and I just have time to put my heavy warm coat, to put my waterproof cape on Ori and to unfold my umbrella on our head, it starts to rain as if I had rarely seen !

All the others are surprised by the rain and begin to moan insults at Khuzdul (at least, it looked like insults).

And so the road continues, full of insults in Khuzdul and desperate attempts by Fili and Kili to come and take shelter under our umbrellas.

-M. Gandalf, can not you do anything against this deluge? Ask one of the dwarves after a moment. -It's raining, Master Dori. And it will continue to rain until the rain stops. If you want to change your time, you will need another magician !

[...]

Here we are in a city I have never visited, in an inn for the night. I must say that we are all exhausted !

It was awful for hours, so most of the company members were soaked and chilled. If we except Bilbo, Ori and me.

Apart from below the knees, we were dry and warm in our clothes !

-It is not fair ! Kili complains, shivering sadly. Why are you alone in having dry clothes ?! -Because I thought it might rain during the trip and we do not take a walk in the sun under a bright sun, I pointed out. -Besides, I thank you, Miss Isabelle, for keeping my little brother warm ! Dori said gratefully. -You're welcome.

We were allocated rooms. Each dwarf member was grouped by family, Gandalf took a room for himself and I sleep in a room with Bilbo in separate beds.

Everyone took the opportunity to change and we all came out of the rooms to eat together.

We ordered a lot of food and drinks (almost all alcoholic).

-You do not want a pint of beer, Miss Isabelle ? Bofur smiles widely. -I avoid drinking alcohol, I can cause trouble. -And what kind, huh? Dwalin laughs with mockery. -Well ... I could go to the bar and dance an Irish jig, be a little too affectionate with the customers, pay a tour to everyone saying "it's good, we only have one life !" Except that I only have one life and small savings. I could also burst into tears while lamenting the sad fate of my favorite literary characters. And all that, in French, my mother tongue ! -You can believe me, I have already seen it done ! Bilbo said, remembering the first time it happened. -And I thank you again for preventing me from undressing in front of strangers because I wanted to prove to everyone that I had abs, I added with gratitude to Bilbo.

All look at me with shock.

-But you swallowed how much glass of alcohol to finish in this state ?! -...Half of my first and only glass of beer...

This is the end of this first part, I hope you have appreciated ! Thanks for reading ! :)

#bilbo baggins #the hobbit imagine #lotr #the company #thorin oakenshield #ecrivaininsert #insert me

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