septembersghost · 1 year ago
Note
Burning Love montage has been stuck in my head all day and made me think of you!
💗🔥💃🏻LIKE A SWEET SONG OF A CHOIR YOU LIGHT MY MORNING SKY WITH BURNING LOVE 💃🏻🔥💗
was it because the every elvis second twt just did that section?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
rent free in my head. shout out to the entire creative team, and especially austin butler, the man that you are, catherine martin, the woman that you are!!!
6 notes · View notes
dolliethv · 1 month ago
Text
One Of The Girls.
summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!
Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!
Word count: about 6k
You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.
You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.
You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.
After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.
"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.
Curious about what he was actually dressed as?
Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.
You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.
Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.
But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.
Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.
"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.
"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.
He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.
You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.
Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.
"It's me."
Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.
Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.
Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.
"Why the bad attitude?"
Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.
You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.
"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.
Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.
Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".
"By the way, you look amazing."
It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.
"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.
Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.
Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.
However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.
When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.
Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.
"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."
You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.
How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?
You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.
"People were staring at us."
Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.
Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.
"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."
You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.
This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.
"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."
But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.
You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.
It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.
You couldn’t get there just yet.
"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.
Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.
"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."
You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.
And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.
"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."
You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.
"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"
Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.
Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.
And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.
So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.
"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."
As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.
As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.
"I think that’d be an abuse of power."
Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.
Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.
"It isn’t if you enjoy it."
Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—
"Bellingham!"
Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.
Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.
"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.
"Good party, man."
You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.
"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.
"Thanks."
You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.
However, you started to feel anxious.
Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.
Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.
Oh, okay.
"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."
Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.
You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.
"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.
Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.
She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.
If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.
"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."
Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?
A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.
"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"
Me?
The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.
Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.
There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.
Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.
"I got lucky tonight."
Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.
Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.
You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.
"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.
You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:
"I’ll be waiting."
And with that, they left.
The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.
You despised him.
None of this was part of the plan.
Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.
He was wrong.
Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.
"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.
-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.
Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.
You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.
Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.
"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.
"No."
It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.
"Mm, I think it is."
"Good for you."
Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.
"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"
You closed your eyes.
But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.
Not again.
“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”
If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.
Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.
“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.
His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.
“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”
“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”
“Should I?”
The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”
Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.
“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”
You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.
“Oh, wow.”
He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.
“Don’t touch me.”
You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.
“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”
With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.
When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.
“We can go to my room…”
He whispered against you, before moving lower.
“Talk…”
He pressed a kiss against your chin
“I’ll make you laugh…”
And then one on the side of your jaw
“I can make you cum…”
You shuddered at the proposal.
You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.
“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.
Another kiss, just below your ear.
“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”
You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.
The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.
You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.
“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.
With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.
(...)
“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”
The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.
You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.
This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?
There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.
The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.
But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.
Is he not interested? You asked yourself.
A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.
You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.
“Let’s dance.”
Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.
You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.
You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.
So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.
If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.
Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.
"Having fun?"
A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.
You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.
Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.
"Don't you want to talk to me?"
Silence.
"Okay, I'll go then."
Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.
"You're still not jealous?"
You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.
"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."
Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.
"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.
When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.
He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.
"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"
He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-
"Punish you."
It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.
"Oh, really?"
It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.
Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.
He was actually very intrigued.
You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.
It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.
Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.
He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.
"You know..." you started saying.
Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.
“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”
It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.
The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.
Oh. Interesting.
The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.
“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”
You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.
“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.
“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”
Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.
You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.
Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.
“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.
You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.
Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.
“My name isn't ‘baby’.”
You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.
As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.
"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.
The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.
-Even her grunts are cute.-
"Shut the fuck up."
It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.
"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."
You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.
And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.
Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.
You did it. I got you.
"Good choice."
With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.
You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.
“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”
“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”
You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”
“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”
“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”
“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.
Pure shit.
There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.
“You know my legs are always open for you.”
"Baby..."
"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."
Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.
"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.
"You want it around your cock?"
Holy shit, did you really say that?
"Yeah."
You hummed, acting like you were considering it.
"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."
"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."
You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.
"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"
As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.
“Yes, baby. So bad.”
His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.
“You wanna see what I got under there?”
“Show me how pretty you are.”
But you didn’t take off any clothes.
You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.
“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.
“And why would I do that?”
God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.
“Baby…”
“Suck.” You claimed.
Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.
“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”
Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.
You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.
“You’re so fucking dirty.”
Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.
Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.
“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.
He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.
Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.
You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.
But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.
So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.
Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.
“Untie me this very instant.”
He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.
You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.
“No.”
"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."
"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."
You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.
"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.
"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.
Jude Bellingham is totally lost.
212 notes · View notes
callmerainman · 8 months ago
Text
Accidentally In Love | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader
Tumblr media
PART 1 | PART 2
plot. You and Adam became friends with benefits. The lines of your situationship are blurred. Even more so when you and the First Man get closer and closer. What will it take you to understand that you and Adam are falling in love?
word count. 3.8k
tags. enemies to lovers, sinner!Adam, friends with benefits, sexual content, p in v sex, Adam Has a Heart, falling in love, Reader has wings, Reader is Lucifer's Royal Guard.
TW! this chapter contains an explicit sexual scene, MINORS DNI
taglist. @kaces-mind @call-me-nyxx @serendipitous-fernweh @plutodestr0yedme @luvvnightingalee
a/n. here it is, final chapter! Thank you for reading this silly little fic, I'll for sure write more about Adam soon! Hope you enjoyed it <3
"and now I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you"
It’s karaoke night for you and Adam. Yeah, karaoke night. At first it started off as a joke. One time, after an usual afternoon of strenuous intercourse, you and Adam found yourselves singing “Out on the Tiles” by Led Zeppelin. You had decided to put on some music in shuffle to try to muffle up your obscene sounds that both of you understood you couldn’t contain. Next thing you knew you and Adam were performing an improvised gig on the already ruined bed of your room.
“I’m so glad I’m living and gonna tell the world I am” you sang out of your lungs, holding an imaginary mic.
You pointed towards Adam, prompting him to finish the lyrics. Smiling, Adam clenched his hand in a fist to pretend to be on the mic too. He leaned backwards, throwing his head back.
“I got me a fine woman and she says that I’m her man” he sang back, enthusiastically.
This singing shenanigans would happen so often that you decided to set your own karaoke night on Fridays. You and Adam stole a karaoke machine from a bar and installed it in his room. And now he’s holding you by the shoulders, vigorously shaking you in a playful manner as you can’t stop laughing.
“Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying” he sings with all the air he could gather.
You bend in half, this time a real mic in your hand “Youuuuuuu, your sex is on fire”.
Adam mimics a guitar riff with an high pitched voice as you sing along to Kings of Leon.
“Consuuuuuumed, with what’s to transpire!” Adam goes, crouching onwards himself.
Something definitely changed between you and Adam. You still don’t know what it is but it’s pacifying you.
The other patrons at the Hotel noticed, even though a bit later. Your relationship was so obviously sexual that none of them really stopped to think if there was more. Until signs started to show.
One time, all of you were watching a movie downstairs. You had forced Adam to participate even if he didn’t want to and was suggesting to have another karaoke night instead. But in the end, you both plopped down on the couch next to each other with everyone and got comfortable in front of a romantic comedy Charlie put on. At first, you and Adam tried to keep your facade of annoyance. You and him were so dense, you didn’t think the others knew that you two were fucking, so you had to pretend to still hate each other. But, as the movie progressed, you and Adam lost your purpose of showing a fake resentment. You glanced down and noticed the tip of your fingers resting really close to Adam’s. His fingers, weirdly enough, were moving in a jerking motion, stroking the fabric of the couch back and forth, as if he was nervous. You moved your fingers closer. With unusual uncertainty from his part, Adam slid his fingers even closer to yours, making them touch. And you and Adam held hands. You decided not to mention it, staring at the TV with your face on fire and his cheeks colored in a red hue. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole movie, and when it ended you separated quickly, again naively thinking that nobody noticed. But, during the movie, Angel had definitely noticed. The spider demon let out one of the loudest gasps in his life as he covered his mouth with four hands. When you and Adam went upstairs later, everyone was still hanging out in the common room. And Angel raised his shoulders and arms.
“Are y’all blind or did you see what I saw?” he asked, almost irritated.
“What?” Cherri asked while mindlessly scrolling on her phone.
“Like, (Y/N) and Adam holding hands?!” he exclaimed, his arms dramatically falling flat on his sides.
“They’ve been fucking like two horny rabbits for months and this is where you draw the line?” Husk questions, raising a red eyebrow.
“Fucking is one thing, holding hands while watching a romantic movie is another!” Angel protest.
Cherri chuckles “It’s obvious by the amount of sex they have that there’s more”.
“Obvious?” Angel questions “Uhhh, hello?? Hate sex is a thing!”.
And that wasn’t the one and only time. Seems so obvious to everyone now, except to you two. It’s in the way you and Adam snuggle during movies, or when you’re cooking and he hugs you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your horns. It’s in the fact that you don’t call each other names anymore unless you’re having sex. Or when you fly around the city together pulling pranks on people, and sing your hearts out during karaoke. Now it’s not only in the way you two wildly wrestle under the sheets. It’s in the goofy way you try to sweep it under the carpet.
“Uh, we’re going upstairs uh to…FIGHT! Definitely not to have sex! Because we hate SEX!” Adam stopped “No wait, I love sex, I mean-“
“We’d HATE to have sex with each other!” you say, trying to back him up.
“Exactly, not with such a stupid cunt!”
“Hey, too much” you whisper, elbowing his side.
“Oh shit I’m so sorry babe”
And everybody looked at you the most unconvinced, inexpressive poker face. But Charlie, underneath, felt that it was heartwarming. Even if Adam whispered in your ear a “can’t wait to fuck your brains out” when displaying apparent affection, she knew that something was going on and it was nothing but beautiful. This is the purpose of the Hazbin Hotel, after all.
Honestly you have no idea what you and Adam are right now. First, you were just a Royal Guard who had to surveil the First Man on Earth, the Exterminator. Then you became his friend with benefits. Now sex is still here, but maybe you’re more friends than anything? Or more. Nothing was defined. You never set boundaries. You had your fair chances of getting intimate with other people, but it felt so wrong so you never went for sex. Adam felt the same. When Cherri brought everyone to the club to have a night out, he had his opportunities to have sex with other girls. But he just didn’t feel like it was right. Especially not if you were in the club with him.
“You can do what you like, you know?” you suggested him in his ear one of those times, in a space between the bar counter and the dance floor. But Adam just shook his head.
“Nah, don’t really feel like it. I mean, yeah that bitch with the black top was all over me but she’s not my type”
He tried to play it cool, not looking at you in the eyes. But in reality, Adam was just checking around to see if your friends were looking. And when he made sure that they were out of sight, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. It was unexpected coming from him, sure, but you let yourself melt in his kisses as music bumped in your ears. Something was happening.
“Here you are” you say.
Your hair is flowing, moved by the slow but firm flapping of your wings. You’re suspended meters and meters high, just in front of the Hazbin Hotel sign. Adam is sitting on the “Z”, holding his golden guitar in his hands. He looks kinda annoyed.
“I was just practicing guitar” he says.
“And I’m still a Royal Guard on duty”
“If your duty is going at it with the one guy you were supposed to surveil, then you’re already doing a great job”
You roll your eyes and scoff “Funny, very funny Adam”.
“Alright, you can hear me play something” he gives in.
“As long as it’s not Wonderwall”
“The fuck no, I fuckin’ hate the Oasis!”
So, with another flap of your wings, you gracefully land next to him. You expect Adam to go wild with one of his exaggerated, over-the-top and ego-boosting guitar solos. But instead, Adam quietly starts a finger picking, quite tune. It’s not a specific rock song, just a chill, peaceful chord progression. Adam starts humming a tune, eyes closed. You press your elbows against your knees and rest your cheek in the open palm of your hand, looking at the view. Pentagram City is a mess, for sure. But with Adam’s unusually calm vocalizing, and his presence, it feels like home. You peek a look at Adam. He’s still keeping his eyes closed, it’s the first time you see him so calm, and not his loud, immature self. He’s beautiful. You realize that your face is hot. And you can’t see it but your pupils are dangerously dilated. You press your lips together, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Oh you know what’s happening. Maybe you should make it stop. You try to take a deep breath. You’re so in love with Adam.
Adam is lost in his own thoughts and music. He was so comfortable in your presence as he strummed that he almost forgot you were there. He opens his eyes, he just wants to take a quick look at you before closing them again. He realizes that he’s done for the moment he sees how you’re looking at him. With shining eyes, dilated pupils, a fond smile on your face. He doesn’t really realize what it means for you, neither do you. But now his heart is beating at unprecedented speed. Shit, shit, shit. It’s not the first time it happens with you. One time, he felt this way when he woke up before you and saw you sleeping naked next to him, cuddled in his arms. The other was when you held hands for the first time during movie time with the other guests. But this time he’s feeling it on a whole other level. You’re so beautiful. And you’re standing by him listening to his tunes despite the man he is. The one who did so much harm but it’s trying to get better. Adam doesn’t know if he actually has gained any redeeming qualities, but one thing he’s sure about is that at least with you he is a better man. He thinks back on when you two used to argue non stop, resenting each other’s presence. It looks like a far, distant reality that never happened, if anything it’s at least a joke. Adam is so in love with you.
Sex still represents the majority of your relationship with Adam. Unlike your feelings, it never changed. Always so loud, fun, satisfying for sure, and unhinged. You and Adam could unleash your personalities at best under the sheets, and that was the best part of it. But this time, something is out of place. Not in a bad way, at all.
Adam is on top of you, placed between your spread legs. His wings are wide open, covering your naked bodies and encapsulating them in a small space reserved to only you two. His thrust are firm, but also slow and sensual, which wasn’t really his style. He’s holding your face with both hands, as he’s mesmerized by your deep moans of pleasure. You cling onto him with nails and legs, holding him as if he was about so slip away. You open your eyes, and catch him staring. He would usually say something sarcastic, like asking the fuck are you looking at. But instead, he looks lost in a profound state of blissful hypnosis, his pupils dilated and mouth slightly parted. Then, Adam plunges forward, still sliding in and out of you with slick sounds. Your breathing becomes even more irregular, hips jerking under his body as waves of pleasure hit you. You tug at Adam’s hair in the spot between his horns. With one hand, Adam firmly holds your hip, while the other has its fingers entangled in your hair, lightly pulling them.
“A-Adam…please I’m so close” you stutter. You would never beg usually, but this time it’s hard not to do so.
What surprises you is the way Adam responds. He would have usually bragged about you begging for him to make you reach your climax, reminding you how much of a whore you are for him. And you would have protested by flipping the roles and making him a mess under your body. But Adam just sinks his face in your neck, whispering.
“I know baby, I know. I got you” he says, interrupted by a moan “Fuck you’re doing so good I swear”.
His movements in you become more erratic, sloppier, and his breath hotter against your ear. The fingers plunged in your hair start stroking your scalp, you try to suffocate your moans of pleasure in his shoulder. You come first around his shaft, whispering quietly his name until you come down from your high. Adam climaxes second, emitting a low, strangled moan in your neck as his wings twitch. You take some time to realize how good it was, your chests rising and lowering with every breath, holding each other. It’s when your mind clears that you realize how atypical of a sexual encounter that was for you and Adam. It was…sweet? Really intimate and not in the physical meaning of the word? Adam never praised you in bed, and you never spoke to him so gently asking to make you finish. And the way he looked at you was absurd, to say at best. With a cherry colored hue on his cheeks, and a light in his eyes you rarely saw in him.
“Ah shit that was great” Adam chuckles, collapsing next to you.
The pride in his face says it all, maybe you were wrong before. You mentally shrug.
“Yeah” you roll on your side, facing him “but I’m so hungry right now”.
Adam sighs, looking up at the ceiling “When I was in Heaven, there was this place that delivered the best fucking ice cream your taste buds could ever graze. A mountain of it. Great for after sex I swear. I miss it”.
Adam takes the opportunity to talk about Heaven more. He’s clearly being nostalgic. He misses it. And while you like hearing him waffling about all the crazy concert he performed, the best restaurants, theme parks and clubs in Heaven, you can’t help but frown. A small smile still lingers on your face, but you ask yourself if Adam really belongs in here. A part of you says of course yes, the other is unsure.
“You know” you say, scooting closer to him “I’ve never really asked myself about how life in Heaven would be. But it really sounds like a beautiful place”.
Adam nods, twisting on his side to face you “Oh fuck yeah it was, I wish I could…”
He interrupts himself as he meets your face, pressed against the pillow. A small, comprehensive smile is gently placed on it, and your eyes are stuck in his own with a visible shine.
Oh no don’t look at me like that.
Adam’s grin disappears, he looks away and tries to play it cool as always, glancing around the room. He clears his throat.
“Yeah I mean, Heaven was great but under a certain perspective…” he trails off.
You wait for him to finish, and he can’t escape your eyes. He finally reciprocates again, getting lost into them.
“Hell is not half-bad, for some reasons” he says.
Adam doesn’t realize it, but now he’s smiling too. His eyebrows are arched upwards in adoration as he ponders on every inch of you. Your now relaxed expression, your glimmering eyes, your naked body covered in white sheets, your head slightly plunged in the pillow. Suddenly, Adam’s smile fades. His eyes go wide, and his heart skips a beat. A wave of realization hits him.
“Holy shit (Y/N) I’m so in love with you”.
Both of you jump in surprise, moving away from each other as the mattress bounces under your bodies. You clench the sheets, and you feel your heart pounding. Where did that come from?!
“What?!” you exclaim.
“WHAT?!” Adam yelps back, incredulous of his own words.
He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he didn’t even mean to say it in his mind actually. You can feel his own panic on your skin, as every inch of your body figuratively catches fire. You don’t know what to say. Adam sits up, covering his face with a hand in embarrassment.
“Fuck! I’m so sorry I ruined everything!” he exclaims, voice panicky.
“Ruined what?”
Oh no. It takes you a second to realize what you said. Adam’s hand files down from his face and looks at you. And you see something you thought you would never witness on Adam’s face. Pain. Adam is hurt. His mouth is slightly open, his breath suspended, his eyebrows knitted. You used to call him many names when you two argued. An asshole, a dirtbag, a dickhead, an irresponsible, immature jerk. But Adam never batted an eye. It’s the first time you see an unmistakable, terrible flash of pain in his face. You feel horrible. You sit up, your mouth open and about to say something. It’s hard to gather the right words after saying something so wrong. You extend a hand towards him, but Adam leans back, away from your touch.
“Adam fuck that’s not what I…” you say, voice shaky.
Adam shuffles away from you again, his face full of regret, embarrassment and clearly pain. He shakes his head, proceeding to get out of bed. He starts looking frantically for his clothes, putting them on as quick as he can. No words come out your mouth, your mind too confused and full of things to process. In just a matter of seconds, Adam is already dressed.
“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go” he stutters, looking at you for a split second.
“Adam, wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sa-!”
You don’t have time to finish what you have to say. Adam had already opened the window of your room, and in the blink of an eye he flew away. Shit, shit, shit! Why did you even say that? That came out so wrong. But you couldn’t help it, you were so taken aback by his sudden confession. You mentally punch yourself in the face. Physically, you limit yourself to drag a hand down your face and groan loudly in your palm. You try to give yourself some time to think, you don’t want to hurt Adam even more. You spend some minutes with your face smothered in your pillow, suffocating sounds of pure frustration. After you gathered your thoughts together, you finally get up from the bed. You put your clothes back on, and head towards the still open window. With a strong flap of your wings, you sprint upwards. As you thought, Adam is sitting on the Hotel sign. He looks pissed. His lips are tightly pressed together and his eyebrows are knitted at the corners. He notices you but doesn’t look up.
“Adam, c’mon…” you say, as kindly as you can.
You keep floating in front of him, the wind generated by your wings making Adam’s hair slightly flow. He doesn’t look at you, he’s just staring at his own knees. For a solid minute you two don’t say anything. Silence has never been a thing between you and Adam, but you respect his wish. Suddenly, Adam breaks it.
“It’s not like you have to pity me” he mumbles.
“I’m not pitying you”
“Um yeah? I just ran off like a pissy school girl and here you are looking at me like a lost child”
“Adam-“
“You know how much time has passed since I last said those words?”
You don’t say anything. Adam finally looks up at you, his eyes a mess of emotions.
“Centuries” he says, spiteful of himself.
Your eyebrows arch upwards in surprise, your forehead corrugated. Your stomach burns, as you can finally feel every emotion Adam tried to hide under sarcasm for so long.
“Centuries?” you ask.
“Yeah, and I know I’ve been literally fucking around for a lot of time so it’s actually my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t mean it once I say it”
“Adam, my question was genuine”.
His mind stops in his tracks. You look weirdly calm. A bit unsure, of course, this is your first very serious conversation. But you’re still collected and he envies you.
“I really wanted to ask you what did you think you ruined. Because I’ll admit it, and I don’t wanna hurt you even more, but I don’t know what goes on in your head. We have all this sex, but also some care, but we also bicker. It’s confusing. I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing. But you showed me care. Sometimes, you still are a bit of a jerk let’s be honest. But I felt care too”.
Your stomach is twirling around, but you can’t stop your flow of consciousness. You wanna know what Adam means, what the First Man wants from a sinner he swore to hate not so long ago. Adam strokes his hair with a hand. His blush intensifies.
“I myself don’t really know what we are. If you know please fuckin’ tell me. What I know is that I feel something, love if that’s what we wanna call it. I mean, look at you! You sing along to rock songs with me, you know how to fight and look so badass while doing it, and you’re hot as fuck too! But if you don’t feel the sa-“
In a sudden movement, you zip towards Adam and grab him by his robe to push him on your lips. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but quickly closes his eyes to reciprocate the kiss. It’s calm, sweet, your lips and tongue are moving in tandem in such a tender yet passionate manner. It’s full of care, whatever it is. When you pull away, you look at each other in slight embarrassment. But you push it back immediately.
“I would have never thought I’d say it to you, but I do love you, Adam. Even if you’re still not perfect at all, you’re still a dickhead let’s admit it, I feel something for you. And I don’t expect you to suddenly become a better person just for the sake of being with me, but right now I’m sure I love you like this”.
You had blurted it all out in a single breath, still close to Adam’s face after your kiss. And finally, he smiles. Not with his usual teasing, shit eating grin. He smiles genuinely.
“I still don’t know if I’ll be a redeemable man, or if I want to become one. But at least with you I feel a bit of a better man”.
You smile back at Adam. He looks like a whole other person compared to how he was when you met. He still is his old self. But you came to love him. You and Adam lean forward, capturing yourselves in another deep, thoughtful kiss. Your wings meet, grazing each other as they close around you two. After a while of getting lost in your affection, you separate and playfully smirk.
“C’mon you whiny baby, why don’t we go downstairs to join everyone for movie night?” you suggest.
Adam groans and rolls his eyes “Us being a thing doesn’t mean that I have to participate in every fuckin’ activity of this Hotel”
“Uhh, yeah it does? I’m still in charge of forcing you to join. Now get your lazy ass off of there and let’s go”
“Okay, finee but can we have sex again after?”
“Of course we can”
“Hell yeah”
384 notes · View notes
deconstructthesoup · 4 months ago
Text
All right, Fantasy High Leverage AU (which I still need a name for) commence:
Riz is the group's mastermind---a guy who quit his job at an insurance investigation agency after he found out that his father, who'd worked for the same agency and was thought to have died in an accident, actually got killed on the job. In the years since, Riz has kind of fallen into himself a little, trying and failing to get a private detective business set up as his mental health slowly gets worse... until he gets approached by someone who claims that something of his was stolen, and Riz is the only person he can trust to lead a team of highly prolific criminals to get it back. And this, of course, kicks off the formation of his new crew:
Gorgug is the group's hacker-slash-engineer, though everybody looks at him and assumes that he has to be the hitter. He grew up learning the ins and outs of computers and machines as a kid, and once he got the gist of it, he started figuring out what exactly he could and couldn't do---never because he was malicious, just because he was curious. This, of course, got him into a lot of legal trouble, and he's kind of gotten wrapped up into the criminal lifestyle because of it. He's the sweetest person ever, of course, which means that a lot of people tend to trust him.
Kristen is the group's hitter---a cocky wildcard who, after getting kicked out of her parents's house due to being a lesbian, didn't have a lot of other options besides joining the military. Though her rebellious nature got her into a lot of trouble, her ability to take a lot of hits and hit just as hard also got her noticed... by the wrong people. Needless to say, she's got a bit of a past, which she easily covers up by cracking jokes and acting as unhinged as possible. Underneath it all, though, she's still crawling out of a pretty dark place, and she both softens up and calms down once she finally starts receiving some actual external validation and support.
Adaine is the group's thief, though, again, people look at her and assume she's the hacker. She and Aelwyn both grew up in an old-money household and spent a lot of time around priceless antiques and art---and eventually, both of them responded to their parents's awfulness by taking up crime, though Aelwyn stole stuff for the Abernants and Adaine stole stuff from the Abernants. As time went on, the two sisters became incredibly talented thieves, all the while pretending to be your typical rich academics... until, of course, Adaine got caught and was promptly disowned by her family. Undeterred, she escaped, and managed to get quite the reputation in the criminal underground under her belt. Weirdly enough, she's also one of the most levelheaded and practical members of the group.
Of course, once their first heist goes wrong and they all realize that they've been tricked, Riz has to pull in some outside help in order to right their wrongs. And he does that by inviting a pair of stepsiblings that he'd run across when he still had his job...
Fig and Fabian are the two most accomplished and renowned grifters that the criminal world has ever seen, and nobody is still quite sure what their origins are---just that they're clearly not biologically related, and that they specialize in stealing art from rich people who can afford it. Fig's the kind of person who's incredible at improvisation and tends to act on the fly, and even her more impulsive actions wind up yielding results (though sometimes, there's unintentional consequences). Fabian, meanwhile, takes careful time crafting the perfect identity to sway his mark, and while Fig warns him about getting in too deep, he's never had that problem... yet. Both of them think very highly of Riz---hell, Fabian even had a thing for him before he realized that Riz wasn't interested in any of that---and both of them are more than happy to add more people to their crew. (And yes, their dynamic in this is partially inspired by Chirp and Squak---hey, two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou, meet other two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou.)
As for some of the others---Ragh takes the Jack Hurley route of being a mark that eventually switches to their side and becomes their lovable best friend, Ayda is a bookkeeper and researcher for Riz's old company who gets accidentally roped into one of their cases and winds up becoming an ally (and Fig's girlfriend), Tracker is a fellow hitter and an old "friend" of Kristen's, Aelwyn's the Archie Leach equivalent who's still semi-working for the Abernants, the Seven all start out as clients and form their own crew over the course of the series, and the Ratgrinders are a crew who start out as actual bad guys, though many of them eventually start working alongside Riz's crew. (Oisin's the hacker, Ivy's the thief, Mary Ann's the hitter, Ruben's the grifter, Kipperlilly's the mastermind, and Lucy's their old friend who hired Riz and everyone else to stop-slash-help them.)
So... yeah!
111 notes · View notes
starlostlix · 6 months ago
Text
Moriarty the Patriot - Sherlock, William, uncertainty and control:
(aka me writing a lot about something i find a bit interesting)
I think what I find most interesting about Sherlock and Liam as a duo (platonic or romantic idrc in this context) is how Liam's ways of controlling Sherlock in his plans differs from the ways he controls others. Whilst people like Bonde and Moran are allowed to improvise as long as his goal is achieved, Liam lets Sherlock choose between a limited amount of ways where he still doesn't completely understand the goal behind the situation. Liam seems to think that it's not completely possible to actually control Sherlock the way others are and has to change his approach. In fact, Sherlock as a person opens Liam up to the idea that not everything can or needs to be controlled or certain.
The first meeting with Sherlock is pure chance. Liam had no knowledge of Sherlock's existence until they bumped into each other on the Noahtic. They randomly strike up conversation by the pure coincidence of being in the same place at the same time. Liam in his letter states that this was entertaining enough for him to forget about his plan (something which is usually a constant in his mind), even considering abandoning it to continue mystery solving with Sherlock as they got to know each other more. All this from a chance encounter, something which Liam doesn't usually have room for in his plans. It opens him up to things, in this case a person, out of his control for the first time in the series as far as we can tell - and he enjoys it.
This leads to the addition of Sherlock into the Moriarty Plan, an unexpected but helpful asset in exposing the misdeeds of the nobility to the people. Liam sometimes describes Sherlock as the main character of the performance, which is significant in terms of their dynamic. With Liam as the director, Sherlock's narrative is technically under his control - so Sherlock is consistently put in situations where he has the power to act in a limited number of ways as per this narrative. This frustrates Sherlock greatly, as he seems to value being in control of the mysteries but now the mystery has control over him. He also knows he's being toyed by someone with more control of the events he's in. However, the control Liam has isn't absolute. Liam gives Sherlock many times to have the answer to the mystery handed to him, which Sherlock denies due to his mentality of wanting to solve the mystery himself. To me this shows that Sherlock is the one that has the choice over continuing the chase (and therefore the entire act) at all. If he'd accepted the answer from Hope or Alder, Liam's entire plotting would have to be rewritten. Sherlock overestimates the control Liam has over him, and Liam knows that he cannot control what Sherlock does completely (but can put restrictions on his options).
This dynamic is especially seen in The Riot at New Scotland Yard, where Sherlock specifically acknowledges that the way he acts could disrupt the Lord of Crime's plans, and is frustrated about his lack of control here. But the fact that Sherlock technically had the power to possibly disrupt Liam's plans at all in Scotland Yard shows that Sherlock has an element of free will in his situations.
In The Two Criminals (im going anime only from here since i haven't got all the way through the manga yet) is the next time we see something that Liam did not control for - Sherlock's act of murdering Milverton. Sherlock may have murdered Milverton to save Watson's marriage, but it seems to be also in part to prove to Liam that he cannot be completely controlled. This is when it occurs to Liam that, in his mind, Sherlock is definitely going to kill him and he plans for just that.
Liam's letter to Sherlock is a goodbye at its core. He plans to have Sherlock at his side in his final moments and thinks that despite their friendship Sherlock will stand by. But by now Liam feels that his control is fading - not only over his people, but his sins. The only thing he requests in that letter (which are the only things he wants to control for) are Sherlock helping others, and Sherlock being by his side to, in essence, pull the trigger and let him accept death.
Sherlock however has shown that Liam cannot control him before and does so again. On the bridge he perhaps does the thing that Liam expects the least - Sherlock tries to help him. In fact Liam is so appalled by the idea that he as the Lord of Crime is worth saving that he tries to regain control of the situation by starting a half-simulated fight. I say half-simulated since the fight is simulated by Liam to say that Sherlock defeated him after the event, but also is full of real tensions between the two. Sherlock is fighting for Liam to stay, Liam is fighting for Sherlock to give up on him and let him die (what he planned for almost his entire life).
Then, dangling above the river Thames, Sherlock pulls out the biggest surprise for Liam - Sherlock came to help because he's his friend. It's funny how Liam is accounted for all the people of London projecting their rage at him, but not for the fact that there may be one or two people that would want to spend time with him. He couldn't have planned for the genuine connection he and Sherlock had gained. He couldn't account for perhaps the most integral thing - a person that actually cares for him outside of his usual circle and wants him to have a happy life, despite everything he's done.
It isn't until he's falling that Liam realised Sherlock is truly an agent of chaos in his otherwise meticulous plan. He watched Sherlock jump to catch him, he views him strangely enough as a symbol of peace. Sometimes, chaos and unpredictablility can bring peace, something that had never accounted for can bring good.
By the time he wakes up in New York, Liam is in a state of uncertainty. No plans, no goals, his life is a 'blank'. It is Sherlock who convinces him that this uncertainty can be a good thing. He can 'paint that canvas however he likes' even if it takes some time. He can struggle to find his way, because the way him finds will still be right for him eventually. Uncertainty and a lack of control can create new opportunities and a new outlook on life. And Sherlock will be there to support him. No matter what he decides to do.
Sherlock represents the uncertainty of life for Liam and the good it can bring. He shows him that he doesn't need to plan everything, a lack of control can be a good thing, and that sometimes the best things can come from chance and uncertainty. They, as a duo, are an product of this uncertainty and lack of control.
(anyways can people tell that i kind of write essays/powerpoints on things i like for fun? this was going to be like one paragraph or two at first but then more details to explore came up. feel free to correct me if i've missed/misinterpreted anything in my writing! I'm still new to MTP - i watched the anime for the first time like 2 weeks ago and have read the first 9 manga volumes too, plus a few of the new york/time skip chapters - but this series has really taken over my life recently and that's not a bad thing)
57 notes · View notes
bearsinpotatosacks · 3 months ago
Text
The beautiful thing about the Bear is that it's such a high stress show that you can apply it to other high stress environments and the AU works. I can see some kind of hospital/medical AU, or, in this case, a dancer AU.
The Berzattos run a dance school for kids, teens, and adults. They do different styles of dance, teach according to syllabus and some of their best students, like Carmen Berzatto even go on to become professionals. Syd used to go there when she was a kid until her dad noticed her passion, and worked extra hard to get into the Joffrey Ballet, then the New York Ballet before she got disillusioned and tried to start her own dance company and failed.
Carmy joined the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago, being taught by Andrea, as a child before being picked up by the Paris Opera ballet, before moving to the Royal Danish Ballet in Copenhagen, then moving onto the San Francisco Ballet before finally joining the American Ballet Theatre in New York, this is where David abuses him.
Mikey didn't have as much promise, he was a good dancer at many things, but didn't have the drive that Carmy did, so runs the dance school instead. He met Richie at the school, his mother was a dancer and she noticed his inability to sit still and put him in the dance school, his dad didn't approve at first but he started getting roles in musicals, he's a brilliant tap dancer and could've gone far in musical theatre but Mikey pulled him in. He got roles, worked hard for them but always got brought back to the dance school eventually.
Tina got into musical theatre 'too late', she's been in a local theatre outside of work but after getting fired, she's heard singing to herself at the bus stop outside the dance school, Mikey hears and offers her a job as the musical theatre teacher with Richie.
Mikey dies and Carmy's left the dance school. The place isn't doing well, they could be going out of business. Syd, who's been idolising him since she saw him in the Royal Danish's production of the Nutcracker, starts to work there. Carmy becomes strict on uniform and respect to the teacher, Richie's more relaxed, he's dance teacher but wants it to be fun, not a military school.
She and Richie don't get on, she's used to the skill levels of professional ballet studios, not local dance schools. She starts to see how good he is with the students, he can control the room easier and his students have more freedom and are generally happier.
Carmy decides to up the stakes of the school's usual yearly show, they promise Jimmy a certain amount of profit and a certain number of new uptake of students. They ask Tina choreograph her own section of the show to whatever she wants, she goes with West Side Story.
Sydney looks at some of the previous shows, and some of the previous work of the teachers to see if there's anything they could possibly do and stumbles upon some of Richie's work in musical theatre. She mentions it to Carmy, they talk to Richie, who's unsure as it's been a while.
She's there late one night when she hears something and sees Richie dancing to Singin in the Rain, which he performed on tour. They talk about dreams and goals, she encourages him to perform, but he's hesitant as it's been so long
Syd and Carmy are going to do a duet, but when it comes to the night, Carmy gets locked in one of the dressing rooms getting something for one of the kids. Syd's scared, so Richie improvises and steps in, he's seen them rehearsing and does his best (is this all because I want to imagine Richie lifting Syd like she weighs nothing? yes).
She joins him in doing 'Moses Supposes' from Singin in the Rain (minus the singing), something he used to perform with Mikey, because she makes him feel confident enough to perform again. They get through, make a fair bit of money and get some sign ups. Richie also gets an invitation to audition for another musical, with Syd's encouragement, he does.
Also added on: Eva being in Richie's dance class, Richie and Syd are in suits when they dance together to 'Moses Supposes', Syd and Richie teaching a class together and reluctantly getting along
27 notes · View notes
invinciblerodent · 1 year ago
Text
Baldur's Gate 3's Potato Chowder - RECIPE
So a few days ago, I found this recipe around the start of act 3, near the kitchen of the Temple of the Open Hand in Rivington:
Tumblr media
[Screenshot of recipe as it appears in-game. Exact steps will be transcribed below, within the recipe.]
It looked... honestly very simple and not dissimilar from a Hungarian potato főzelék/stew (which is a very cheap and homely peasant dish I love), so I just made it for lunch today, and guys....
this soup is uh. really fucking good. I tried following it as close to the letter as possible, but since it's quite vague, I did have to improvise a fair bit- but it's very cheap and easy to make, it's warm and comforting while still quite light (there are like. NO spices in there, it's a very European-feeling dish), and I'd say it's surprisingly filling, but it's. It's potatoes, so there's nothing exactly surprising about that.
I tried to write out the recipe in a very beginner-friendly way, so even if you're not super confident in the kitchen, it should be easy to follow! ❤️
Make yourself some video game soup, it's awesome.
INGREDIENTS:
(For about 6 servings)
A roughly egg-sized lump of lard (This can be subtituted with a different cooking fat if you'd like, but I recommend sticking with lard, as it adds a nice flavor, and it's kind of the staple fat for these peasant stews.)
Potatoes (I used just under two pounds)
Half of a medium leek
Small yellow onion (or half of a larger one)
2 cloves garlic
Roughly 1/2 to 1 cup white cooking wine (optional, substitute given in recipe)
Vegetable stock (or chicken- or beef stock, or water)
2-3 tbsp all purpose flour
Salt to taste
1/2 cup of sour cream/créme fraiche (optional)
Shredded cheese and/or croutons to serve (optional)
(Recipe with transcriptions and exact steps under the cut!)
Tumblr media
(This is basically all there is in this. Honestly.)
STEPS:
"1. Put your lard in a pot- a chunky one, mind. When it stops being lard and starts being hot lard, add any good-smelling veggies (leeks, garlics, onions) that you've chopped all thin. Please salt this so it doesn't taste of nothing."
This first step is pretty self-explanatory. I sliced the white part of he leek thinly, cubed my onion, and minced my two large cloves of garlic. In the lard melted in as chunky a pot as I've got (make sure it's not non-stick!!!), I sauteed first the leek and the onion with a big pinch of salt, and once the onion was translucent, the leek soft, and they've released some liquid (around 3-5 minutes on medium-low heat), I added the garlic, and cooked it until fragrant.
"2. When it's soft and good-smelling, chuck in any flour you've got and stir the mixture so it don't burn (note for me - it's very important not to burn it, emphasize)"
"2.5. PLEASE DO NOT LET IT BURN THAT'D BE RUBBISH"
Now we make a roux by adding just enough flour to the mixture that it starts sticking together, and looks fairly dry, but no part of the flour remains powdery. (This was about 3 tbsp for me, but since this process goes quick, I did eyeball it).
It's important to keep stirring, as this can and does stick to the bottom of a pot, but it will determine the thickness of the final soup, deepen its flavor, and give it a nice, creamy consistency. I made mine fairly blonde (light tan in color, cooked just past long enough to dissipate any raw flour smell), but it can go to a fairly dark, caramel color before burning if you'd like the flavor to be a bit deeper. (This should only take a couple minutes.)
Please do be careful- it the roux burns, that flavor will be impossible to get rid of, so.... yeah, it would be rubbish.
"3. If you're fancy and have wine (or have a generously stocked temple wine cellar nearby) add a bit of it now and cook it off. When it's done, add some wedged potatoes and a lot more liquid (not wine this time or you'll have a headache in the morning)."
We now deglaze the bottom of the pot with the wine: after pouring it in, with the wooden spoon, we scrape up any stuck pieces of flour or aromatics that there might be on the bottom.
(Note: If you don't have wine, or would prefer not to use alcohol for any reason, a neat trick is to mix about 1 tbsp of white wine vinegar and 1 tsp of granulted sugar into a cup of water, and use this mixture as a substitute for 1 cup of white wine. In most recipes, the wine's main purpose is to add acidity as well as sweetness to the dish- this trick aims to replicate those qualities, and tastes very similar in the end result. I use it often in almost anything that calls for white wine if I happen to not have any at hand. But do make sure to taste beforehand, it's very easy to go too heavy on the vinegar! It should taste sour, but not so much that it's unpalatable.)
Then, I rinsed my cubed potatoes (though the text calls for wedges, those often don't cook quite evenly!) with water to get rid of the excess starch, added them to the pot, and then covered them in vegetable stock. You can use chicken- or beef stock (which would make the soup a bit richer, heavier) or water (if you want it lighter) as well- in this last case you might need to add more salt than you'd think. (Make sure to taste- it should be flavorful, but not salty! Bouillon cubes and premade stocks often have a very high salt content, so if using that, you might find you don't need to add any.)
Tumblr media
(It sohuld look something like this.)
"4. Cook for half an hour or so til the potatoes are nice and tender, and mash some of 'em up in the liquid. If you've got any cow products - cheese, milk and the like - add them now for extra delicious results."
From when the mixture starts to boil, it should take about 25-35 minutes of simmering on low heat, covered, for the potatoes to soften- you can test doneness by sticking a fork in one of the pieces, or gently pushing one against the edge of the pot with your wooden spoon. It should give easily at light pressure with both methods.
I then put the sour cream/créme fraiche in a heat-safe container (a mug will do perfectly), and ladled a bit of the hot cooking liquid on top of it, mixing it thoroughly- both to thin it out, and bring the temperatures closer to each other, which should help avoid any curdling. Stirring constantly, I then add the cream mixture to the soup in a thin, slow stream. (Any mildly acidic, creamy dairy product should work here- though I do think yogurt might be a bit too sour, if using that I would probably omit the wine.)
Then, as everything is done cooking and the cream is distributed evenly with no curds, I turn the heat off for safety, and using a very traditional, very fantasy, not at all anachronistic immersion blender, I blitz the entire thing for roughly 30 seconds. You can of course blend it less for more chunks (or remove some cooked potato bits before blending to add them back later), or even longer for a smoother consistency, but I did like that about that much blending left only a few, small chunks of nicely cooked potato in the otherwise smooth and creamy result.
I served with shredded Port Salut cheese and croutons on top- but this is of course optional, and I think just some nice, crusty bread would also work wonderfully!
Tumblr media
Go make yourself a video game soup!!!!!!! It's so easy and good!!!!!!!
145 notes · View notes
the-obnoxious-sibling · 8 months ago
Text
in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)
part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.
Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).
It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.
He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.
The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 
Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?
And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.
Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”
Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”
Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”
“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”
“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”
Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”
Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”
“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.
Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.
Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.
Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.
Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.
Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.
“Look out below!!!”
Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.
“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.
“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”
“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.
“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”
“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.
Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”
Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.
“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.
What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”
A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.
Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.
“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.
“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”
Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”
“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”
Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”
“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!
“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”
Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”
“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”
Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”
Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”
“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”
Yasopp grinned.
The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.
“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.
“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”
Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”
��You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”
Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”
Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”
Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.
Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.
Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.
“Afternoon, men!” he called.
“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.
“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”
“Of course!”
“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”
Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.
Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.
He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.
He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”
Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.
“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”
“Aye, Captain!”
But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.
Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.
“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?
Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.
“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”
Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”
“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”
Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”
Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”
The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 
“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.
“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”
“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.
While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.
Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.
“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.
“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”
Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.
Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.
As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.
Shanks.
“Are you holding my feet hostage?”
“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”
Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.
“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.
Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”
Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”
“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”
“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”
Well, that was ominous.
With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.
It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.
(Fuck.)
Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.
(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)
Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.
(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)
“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.
Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”
Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.
Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”
35 notes · View notes
beefromanoff · 7 months ago
Text
Project Mockingbird Ch. 15
summary: the tension...is palpable. but maybe a breakthrough?
pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC
author's note: TWO IN ONE WEEK! I love seeing everyone's responses to this story! it's so fun to write, and it's definitely heating up. let me know what you think!
tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge
(let me know if you want to be added <3)
chapter list
_______________________________________
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The sterile air of the training room hummed with a tension that felt almost palpable. Bucky stood, arms crossed, in front of a giant digital screen displaying a complex urban environment. Charlotte, her focus intense, studied the map that sprawled before her. It had only been two days since the attack on the compound, and though she’d been released to sleep in her own bed the first night, she wasn’t cleared for combat training until her broken ribs had healed and the stitches had been removed from her leg. She’d opted to return to lessons with Bucky almost immediately, despite their spat in the medical wing. Her desire to avoid being alone with her thoughts was stronger than her desire to avoid him. 
He wore his normal daily attire: tactical pants and combat boots, a snug black shirt hugging his chest. Charlotte wore almost identical garb, with loose cargo pants the most comfortable to wear over the bandaging on her leg. 
"Okay," Bucky began, his voice steady, "you have your objective. Hostage situation, downtown area, high civilian presence. Minimal casualties, maximum stealth. Your move."
Charlotte paused for a moment before pointing to a section of the map, tracing a potential entry route. "Rooftop entry here. We can use the neighboring building as a vantage point."
Bucky shook his head. "Too exposed. Snipers could easily pin you down. Next."
She bit her lip, her frustration growing, then suggested, "What about a distraction? Create a diversion on the opposite block to draw them out."
"And risk civilian casualties? Not an option. Think, Charlotte."
She took a deep breath, regrouping, before offering another handful of potential ways to diffuse the situation. With each suggestion shot down, Charlotte's strategies grew more audacious, her patience thinning. As her ideas got sloppier, Bucky’s feedback got more critical. 
“You do that and you might as well just surrender now. They’d see you coming a mile away and have all their forces ready to ambush you. Are you prepared to send your whole team into a blatant trap? You’re not even thinking this through.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.
Finally, she snapped. "What do you want from me, Bucky? To pull some genius plan out of thin air? You're not giving me anything to work with!"
Bucky, unyielding, leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "I want you to think. Real situations won't give you 'anything to work with' either. You need to adapt, improvise, and most importantly, keep those hostages and your team safe."
Charlotte's eyes blazed. "You think I don't know that? You're acting like I'm some rookie who's never faced a real threat!"
“Last time I checked, you are a rookie. When was the last mission you came on?” Bucky's tone hardened. "I'm trying to prepare you for situations where there might not be a clear right answer. You think I don't see your potential? I do. But potential's not enough when the lives of people you care about are on the line. You need to be strategic, not just brave. If you run into an escalated situation with nothing but ‘kick ass’ in your arsenal, you’re going to get yourself killed."
The air between them crackled with tension as Charlotte threw her hands in the air. "Oh, so now you're the world’s leading expert on nonviolent negotiations? Last time I checked, only one of us  has ‘World’s Deadliest’ on our resume and it isn’t me.” She didn’t shy away, getting even closer to his face. “Tell me how much strategy came into play then, Soldat."
The words hung heavy, a low blow that cut incredibly deep. Bucky's face tightened, a flicker of old pain in his eyes as he set his jaw. If looks could kill, she had a feeling she’d have already taken her last breath. Instead of the verbal lashing she expected, he took a slow breath before stepping back.
"That's not fair, Charlotte, and you know it," he replied, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the tension.
Charlotte, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and regret, met his gaze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.
"I—" She began, then stopped. What was she doing? This was Bucky, who'd risked everything, who'd been through hell and back. And here she was, using his past against him. "I'm sorry," she said, the words feeling inadequate. "That was out of line."
But Bucky's demeanor had already shifted. He looked at her, his gaze piercing, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she saw a flicker of something more—anger, betrayal, perhaps even hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, shuttered behind the steel walls he was so adept at erecting.
"Yeah," Bucky finally said, his voice cold and distant. "It was."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the large room, each step thundering through her. Charlotte watched him go, her heart sinking. She wanted to call out, to apologize again, to explain that her words had come from a place of frustration and fear, not malice. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled up with her pride and the lingering sting of their argument.
As the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone in the silence of the training room, a mix of emotions roiled within her. Guilt for having crossed a line, anger at Bucky for being so impossibly difficult to work with, and beneath it all, a gnawing fear that she had just irreparably damaged whatever fragile connection they had been building. 
She sank down onto a nearby bench, her injured leg protesting the sudden movement. The physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside her. She had wanted to prove herself, to show Bucky—and maybe, more importantly, herself—that she was capable, that she wasn't the weak link. Instead, she had let her temper get the best of her, lashing out in the worst possible way. The worst part? She really was trying. All of her suggestions, at least the early ones, were instinctive. Had she been in the heat of a mission, thinking on the spot, she would have acted on them. Acted on them and gotten people killed, as Bucky was so keen on reminding her. Goddamn him, this was difficult for her. She didn’t come from a military background before her capture by HYDRA, and she didn’t have years with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes honing her skills. She knew how to fight, how to survive, as she’d proven time and time again. Yet, all he seemed to be able to see was where she fell short. Brute strength and violence had gotten him through some of the worst horrors known to man, and here he was, telling her that wouldn’t be enough. Well, it would have to be. That was all she had. 
The room felt oppressively large now, the echoes of their argument bouncing off the walls, a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled out of control, as they always seemed to do. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
______
The night air was crisp, and the lake below was a reflection of the starlit sky as Charlotte stood alone on the balcony, wrapped in her thoughts and an oversized sweatshirt. The events of the day had left her raw, her emotions a tangle of frustration, guilt, and an indefinable ache that seemed to pulse with the night. She’d avoided the common room until she knew Bucky would be in training with the SHIELD agents, then shut herself in her room until after dinner, leaving only to get herself the plate of food she knew Natasha had left in the fridge for her. After another failed attempt to sleep, she’d awoken in a cold sweat and found her way out to the balcony. 
Behind her, the sliding door whispered open, and she stiffened, half-expecting another attack. But when she whirled around, already setting her feet in a defensive posture, it was to find Bucky standing there with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. The panic must have shown on her face because he raised the mugs candidly, showing the peace offering. 
"Vanilla, extra cream," he said, extending one of the cups towards her. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle after their harsh words earlier, that Charlotte found herself momentarily lost for words. She couldn’t remember ever telling him how she took her coffee, and yet here it was, smelling perfectly sweet and familiar.
She took the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "Bucky, I—I need to apologize. For earlier. I was so out of line," she started, but Bucky shook his head, cutting her off.
"No," he said firmly, "I pushed you too hard. I haven't been fair to you, haven't given you the credit you deserve." He leaned on the balcony railing, his gaze distant, reflective. "You saved the compound, Charlotte. While we were off chasing ghosts, you...you showed you have what it takes. In the heat of the moment, you did what you had to, and you saved lives." He tilted his head to meet her eyes. “You risked your own. I just…don’t want you to have to do that again.”
Charlotte's facade crumbled, her carefully constructed walls falling away as tears welled in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Bucky asked, brows furrowing in concern.
"I just... I didn't feel prepared," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was terrified the whole time, and I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone keeps calling me a hero, and I don’t…I’m not one.”
Bucky's head tilted as he took a step closer, his gaze searching hers. "You did great out there, Charlotte. You saved this whole place, and the lives of everyone in it."
Charlotte shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as the tears spilled over. "Did I? Or was it just dumb luck?"
Bucky reached out, gently cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Hey, don't say that. You were incredible. You held your own against HYDRA."
“I was scared shitless. I kept thinking how it was my fault. My fault they came here in the first place, and it would be my fault that the compound fell while you were gone. The whole time, I was just…making it up as I went.” She laughed coldly again, looking up to blink back tears. “Everyone keeps acting like I did something amazing, when we both know I only survived because of you. You’re the only one who sees through me, sees that I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing and I hate it. I wish you weren’t right, but you have been. Every single goddamn time.” She angrily wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
Watching her, sensing she wasn’t done, Bucky’s hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder. 
Charlotte looked down into her mug, seeing her reflection warped on the surface of the liquid. "I felt terrified," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Confused, lost. It all felt so... unnatural. I was second-guessing every decision, worried I was making the wrong move." She stared blankly ahead, eyes unseeing as her gaze looked somewhere past the lake. "I took it as a sign that I'd never make a good Avenger."
Bucky leaned back down over the railing, frowning at her. "Do you think you're the only one who feels that way? Even after hundreds of missions, there are times I'm still scared, still doubting." He paused, searching her face. "That fear, that uncertainty, it doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And it's what makes you think, makes you evaluate and choose the best path forward, even when it's hard. It doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for this…it just means you actually give a shit about what you’re doing."
Charlotte met his gaze, and in that moment, a connection forged in the heat of conflict and cooled in the calm of understanding passed between them. The swift forgiveness of her incredibly cruel words. The raw, brutal honesty. The peace offering. The lack of judgment as she broke down in front of him. "I guess we're just trying to do our best, huh?" she said, a tentative, watery smile touching her lips.
"Yeah," Bucky agreed, his voice soft but steady. "We're all just trying to do our best.”
Charlotte stared ahead, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Bucky studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Why are you up so late, Char?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated, the words catching in her throat for a moment before she spoke. "Nightmares," she admitted quietly. "I’ve always had them, but they've been worse since... since the attack. I see all the other outcomes, if I’d failed. Tonight I dreamt that they got me, took me back there. That’s the worst one. Sometimes I have to get outside, under the stars and fresh air, just to remind myself that I'm free."
Bucky's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low. "I still get them too. I imagine that I wake up from cryo, and this was all a dream, that I was never free. That’s my worst one.” 
Their eyes met, a rare moment when both of their walls had come down. Their looks mirrored each other, vulnerable and bare, waiting for the other to make one wrong move and get shut back out. Neither of them spoke. Even speaking the contents of her nightmares aloud had made Charlotte’s hands tremble, and she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup. Breaking their gaze, she looked back out into the expansive night sky.
"Are you...scared? Now that they’re back?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bucky didn't hesitate. "Shitless.”
Charlotte reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. She expected him to pull away, to retreat into himself as he so often did. But to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he tightened his grip, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.
They sat in silence as the night stretched on around them, finding solace in each other's presence. They had no answers, no reprieve in sleep, not even peace in their home, but they had a hand to hold onto, anchoring them in their fear. And with it, they found a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them both.
Tumblr media
________
The Avengers' kitchen was a hive of activity, with pots clanging, eggs frying, and the aroma of breakfast filling the air. The team members moved about with practiced ease, each contributing to the morning chaos in their own way.
Sam, wielding a spatula like a pro, called out to Natasha, who was expertly flipping pancakes on the griddle. "Hey, Nat, you sure you didn't miss your calling as a short-order cook?" he teased, earning a laugh from the others.
“Maybe in the next life,” She winked, flipping another perfect pancake.
Steve couldn't resist chiming in from his post by the toaster. "I don't know, Sam. I think I’ve got her beat," he quipped, waving his burnt toast in the air. Charlotte wrinkled her nose as she walked past it, the bitter smell assaulting her. 
“Good morning sunshine,” Sam called before resuming his whistling, clearly in a great mood. Charlotte wondered if he’d just gotten back from Calla’s apartment, and when they’d stop splitting their time now that the secret of their relationship was out. She made a note to ask her friend later.
Bucky, already stationed by the coffee pot, flashed a grin as Charlotte waltzed up. "Coffee?" he offered, holding out a mug with a knowing look.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Second coffee in less than twelve hours?”
Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. "Don’t get used to it," he deadpanned.
“Don’t be such a good barista.” She teased, sipping from her mug before hopping onto the counter beside him.
Tumblr media
Their exchange didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, who exchanged knowing glances and playful nudges as they observed the interaction.
Sam couldn't resist a quip. "Well, would you look at that? Bucky's finally learned how to share," he teased.
Natasha smirked, shooting Bucky a pointed look. "I guess miracles really do happen.” 
Always ready to diffuse a situation, Steve called. "Hey, Charlotte, I meant to tell you," he began, catching her eye. "Tony and Pepper are coming back to the compound later this afternoon. Pepper wants to meet with you.”
Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Why?" she asked.
Steve nodded, his expression reassuring. "Yep. She wants to talk about hosting a press conference. They think it's time to let the world know who you are.” He gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great. We’ve all done them. Even Bucky.” He elbowed his friend as he sidled past, plopping down at the head of the table. 
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, still looking hesitant. “If you say so.” 
“At least you'll look better on TV than Sam," Bucky said dryly, giving her a sidelong look.
Sam bristled at the jab, shooting Bucky a mock glare. "Hey, watch it, Barnes. I'll have you know I've got a face for the big screen," he retorted.
“Is that what they’ve been telling you?” He raised an eyebrow, dodging a swat from Sam’s spatula. Giggling, Charlotte felt slightly more at ease as her friends fell into chaos around her. 
_________
Smoothing her shirt, Charlotte approached the sleek conference room with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. She wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting with Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's famed and formidable right-hand woman. Did she do something wrong? Was she in trouble? The thoughts raced through her mind as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Ms. Rossi, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat," Pepper greeted warmly, gesturing to a chair across from her. She was beautiful, looking equal parts polished and genuine. 
Charlotte forced a smile and took a seat, trying to hide her unease. "My friends call me Charlotte, or at least, everyone here does.”
Pepper chuckled. "Alright, Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you."
“Likewise.” She raised an eyebrow. “Although I’ll warn you, I’m not overly keen on the idea of a press conference…if that’s what this is about.”
Pepper chuckled again. "It is, but just know there’s no pressure. This is my professional recommendation, if you desire to be a more public part of the team. We’ve had quite a few incidents of public scrutiny over the past several years, and we’ve found that it makes everyone’s lives much easier if we stay ahead of it. And since you’re new here…"
Charlotte leaned back in her chair, adopting a more casual posture. "Then we should get ahead of it before the public can find something to scrutinize."
Pepper smiled. "Exactly."
“Well, let’s hear the game plan, then. You’re the expert.” 
Pepper clasped her hands together on the table atop a stack of notes. "Well, with everything that's been happening lately, there's been quite a bit of interest in you."
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Me? What’s been happening lately?”
Pepper laughed softly. "Modesty, I see. But yes, your journey has captivated a lot of attention. You were all over the news with your stint in gymnastics, and then you even made a splash as a big fish in Las Vegas, all before disappearing. The internet is very difficult to slip anything past, and it didn’t take long for them to put things together. People love a mystery."
Charlotte tilted her head warily. "That’s one thing to call me."
Pepper smiled. "Indeed. But, we have an opportunity to share your story with the world. On your terms, the way you want it to be told. As much or as little as you’d like to give, anything would help prevent people from writing the narrative for you. Show them who you are before they can tell you."
Charlotte's skepticism showed on her face. "Ah, the old charm offensive, huh?"
Pepper nodded. "Something like that. It's a chance for people to get to know the real Charlotte, not just the headlines they’ll inevitably see if you join the Avengers Initiative."
“Who says I’m joining the Avengers?” She raised an eyebrow. 
“I’m very good at my job.” Pepper winked. “And don't worry, you won't be alone. The team and I will be there to support you every step of the way. We’ll prepare you beforehand, be right there to step in if you get uncomfortable or don’t know how to answer something. You have my word.” 
Charlotte gave a half smile. "Alright, I'll do it. But if I say something wildly inappropriate or incriminating, I can’t be held responsible.”
Pepper laughed. "Have you met Tony? I don’t think we’ve ever had a press conference without something wildly inappropriate or incriminating. You’ll do just fine.”
24 notes · View notes
armpirate · 2 days ago
Text
Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 39
Tumblr media
Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors
Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence
Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate
Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.
And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.
A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.
At least that was what he thought at first.
He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.
Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 
There was no way she could take him seriously.
Aprox. time of reading: 12 minutes
Previous || Next
MASTERLIST
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jungkook stood on one side of the huge abandoned complex, the roar of the underground crowd thundering around him as fighters warmed up near the ring. He clenched his fists, the weight of the situation sinking in as he stared at the concrete floor. He had come there with a plan -to infiltrate that fight for Y/n, to give her the breakthrough she needed for her article and the investigation into her brother's death. But now, as Elijah approached, everything seemed to slip out of control.
—I'm glad you finally came back to your senses —Elijah smirked, stopping just a few feet away—. As you might've seen, this type of fight will be a bit different to the ones you're used to —his gaze flicked toward the ring, where a fighter landed a vicious kick to his opponent's ribs, sending him crashing into the metal fence—. No boxing rules here, Jungkook. They've brought in the real killers tonight. MMA guys, trained to break bones, not just bruise faces. And, to be fair, the future of this.
—This isn't what we talked about —he quickly glanced back at the suited man in front of him—. They'll eat me alive in the first round.
—You've been playing with fire for so long, yet you draw the line at MMA fighters? —his eyes narrowed.
He thought that, maybe, he could play around long enough to catch Alessandro coming up and call the cops just in time, but Elijah made sure to erase that simple thought from his mind.
—You have one choice, Jungkook —his head tilted to the side—. Either you get that ass in that ring or your girlfriend will be paying all the consequences of testing Rossi's patience.
His surprised expression didn't need to stay there for long enough for Elijah to mock him for it.
—You should've known better than anyone that it isn't a good idea to go around asking for information, especially when it's one that can damage us —he let out some air out of his lungs—. And you better keep it up for, at least, two or three fights. You're the new thing here.
Jungkook's stomach tightened. He'd boxed his entire life, but mixed martial arts? That was a different world entirely. The fact that he was also expected to do more than one just fight had him looking back at the improvised ring with horror.
Those fighters were the most mediocre in their field, yet Jungkook knew he didn't stand a chance against them -strikes landing with sickening thuds and grappling that turned the opponents into ragdolls. He couldn't out-jab or out-dance his way around those men.
—I'll go through four fights if you want —Jungkook muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence—. But leave Y/n out of this —Elijah's smirk only widened, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
—We won't touch a single hair in her head —Elijah's eyes glinted with a fake promise—. I'm sure she'll back off once she sees what they'll do to your pretty face.
Jungkook's heart pounded -not from fear for himself, but from the thought of failing Y/n. He knew he didn't owe that fight to anyone but her. After everything, he couldn't just walk away. He had come here to make up for it, to be the one to give her the lead she had been chasing for so long. He needed to clean all the karma he had pending to be able to be with her, that was what the curse was about, that was what was expected from him.
He took a deep breath, his mind racing with memories of Y/n -her determination, her stubbornness, the fire in her eyes when she talked about finding justice. If she could risk everything for the truth, there was no way he could back out now.
—You won't ever get near her —Jungkook said, locking eyes with him—. If something happens to Y/n, I'll be the one to finish you all.
—Sure —Elijah shrugged and turned on his heel.
Inside the ring, the brutal exchange between fighters continued, the crowd feeding off every punch, every broken bone. Jungkook could feel the gravity of what was about to happen. His body tensed, but his mind sharpened. If there was one thing he had learned over the years, it was how to survive. That might not be his kind of fight, but he wasn't walking away because the rules had changed.
He took a step toward the ring, his thoughts drifting to Y/n. He had to do it -for her, for the truth, for the mess he had helped create. Even if it meant stepping into a fight he had no hope of winning.
The bell rang. Jungkook pulled on the bandages tighter around his hands, set his jaw, and climbed into the cage.
There was no turning back now.
Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she parked the car in the shadow of the enormous, run-down complex. The rumble of engines and distant shouts spilled out into the night. Elia had overheard there was a big fight planned for that night, one where she could finally catch Alessandro Rossi in the act and nail down the final pieces of the puzzle about her brother's death. And Alan confirmed her suspicions with some of his insiders.
Beside her, Elia shifted nervously in the passenger seat.
—You don't have to come —Y/n assured her, knowing how difficult it could be for her to go back to a place like that.
Elia looked unsure when asked, her pupils shaking as she glanced toward the entrance, where guards stood like statues, watching every move.
—I want to —Elia replied, determination hardening her voice.
Y/n couldn't back down while being so close, and Elia wasn't going to let her do it alone. It was their chance, the moment they'd been waiting for. It didn't matter how dangerous it was -they needed answers, and they needed Noah's dead to be honored.
They slipped through the throng of people milling around the entrance, their heads down, avoiding eye contact as they made their way inside. The roar of the crowd hit them instantly, the overwhelming energy of the fight nearly taking Y/n's breath away. The place was a maze of bodies, the air thick with sweat, smoke, and tension. In the middle of it all, the cage loomed like a gladiator's arena.
Y/n pulled out her phone, feeling a sense of deja vu as she tried to hide it with her sleeve, snapping pictures of the crowd and the men surrounding the ring. The hosts -men in suits too clean for a place this grimy- watched from the sidelines, their faces lit up by the flashing lights of the ring. Her heart raced as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
Alessandro Rossi.
He was there, watching with a satisfied smirk as the fighters tore each other apart. And he wasn't alone. The police chief was there, cheering for one of the fighters, she could even spot some familiar faces related to the Town Hall of the city of Chicago.
—Scum —Elia whispered, eyes aimed at the same group of people Y/n was looking at.
She nodded and continued taking photos, moving closer to the ring without attracting attention. She focused her camera on the faces of the VIP crowd watching in awe how those people were risking their lives for their entertainment, capturing as much evidence as she could. Just a few more shots, and she would have enough to expose them all.
When she looked at the ring, she couldn't help but flinch at the way a kick flew to the tall man with black hair, forcing him to fall back to the ground, where he had been ever since she stepped inside the place and paid attention to the fight.
But then, something caught her eye. She went deaf as she tried to deny in her head what was evident in front of her. As much as Elia had tried to get her out of there, Y/n got away from her grip to walk among the people that kept pushing her back.
Her eyes locked onto a familiar tattoo, half-covered in blood. The romanic cross on the inside of his forearm was covered with the blood he had tried to clean up from his face. And when she was close enough, their eyes met.
Jungkook.
Her pulse stopped. He was in the ring -his face bruised, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his body barely able to stand as another opponent circled him. His arms hung low, blood dripping from a cut above his eye. She couldn't believe it. She didn't expect he'd ever be there.
—Jungkook? —she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos.
But it was definitely audible for him, who managed to lift his head only to look at a horrorized Y/n.
When he started the first fight, he didn't expect it to be as bad. He thought he'd be able to dodge the kicks, to move faster than the fighter in front of him, but it was as if he was predictable, as if his movements were able to be seen seconds before he made them. But he still insisted on going for the next fight after recovering for a few minutes after being knocked out. Getting strength from somewhere he didn't know, ignoring the pain on his torso and his face to go back for another fight.
After two fights, he was dealing with the third one, barely able to walk, barely able to go on. He couldn't even open his eyes, but he still managed to look at Y/n as soon as he heard her voice, just to confirm it wasn't a sound made up by his head.
—Y/n, we gotta go —Elia whispered, trying to break the connection their eyes built, holding tight on her arm.
Y/n's heart shattered as she watched Jungkook stagger back, struggling to stay upright after a brutal punch to the ribs. How had he ended up here? How had she not known this was what he was doing?
Her phone slipped from her fingers as she stared in horror, her mind racing. She had to do something, but she was frozen in place, her feet glued to the floor as her heart hammered in her chest. All the anger, all the frustration she had felt toward him over the past few days vanished, replaced by pure fear for him.
She kept shaking her head, trying to stop him from getting up, but his body moved automatically, before he was forced back on the floor after another kick landed on his face. Jungkook fell to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. He tried to stand, but his body betrayed him.
Before Y/n's instincts could kick in, Elia pulled from her jacket to finally get her to move away from the ring, dragging her among the crowd with heavy steps. She followed her, she allowed her to take control of her body, she allowed Elia to do what she was sure Noah would've done in her place.
They were almost there, almost by the door, almost finishing that countercurrent path, but Y/n stopped again. She handed her the phone, and who was her brother's girlfriend noticed something in her eyes that she knew she'd regret.
—All the proofs are in my phone —Y/n let her know—. If they get you here, they'll make sure they disappear. And I'm sure the cops will delete all the evidence if they ever get it —her voice was shaky—. Drive far enough and call 911.
Elia couldn't stop her when Y/n ran back in the same direction everyone was walking in, heading back inside.
Before she could think, she was moving toward the ring, her mind a swirl of panic and desperation.
—Stop the fight! —she screamed, her voice drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd.
Jungkook's eyes flickered toward her -just for a second- but it was enough. Their eyes met, and the pain in his expression was unmistakable.
—Please, stop —the panic was clear in her voice.
Jungkook stumbled back, barely able to keep his legs under him. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, each inhale sharp and painful. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the sweat that poured down his face. His eyes were swollen shut, only slivers of dark lashes visible under the bruising that consumed his face. He couldn't see, couldn't hear over the roar of the crowd, and his body screamed in protest with every movement.
Another hit. His head snapped to the side, and his knees buckled, but somehow he stayed on his feet.
In the chaos, Y/n was hysterical, her voice hoarse from shouting as she pushed through the crowd, shoving past the onlookers that stood between her and the cage. She screamed, but her words were drowned out by the thunderous cheers of the crowd, who were too absorbed in the violence to care.
She reached the edge of the cage, her hands gripping the cold metal as she looked up at the men in charge, the ones standing smugly in their places as they watched Jungkook get beaten to a pulp. She pleaded with them, her voice cracking.
—Please! He can't go on! Call it off.
But they only glanced down at her with mocking smirks. One of them looked directly at her, a cruel smirk playing at the edges of his lips.
—Don't worry, sweetheart —Elijah said, his voice dripping with mockery—. It'll be over soon. But he signed up for this. Ain't no stopping it now —his eyes moved to Jungkook—. Deal with the consequences if you dare to give up.
Y/n's blood boiled. Her desperation turned into helpless fury as she turned back to the cage, pounding her fists against the metal. She was so close to hit him, but his hand was faster, gripping on her forearm tight as he remained her still in front of him.
—Please —she begged—. He'll die there.
—Well, seems like you're familiar with that.
Inside the cage, Jungkook swayed on his feet, his body unable to take much more. He tried to lift his arms, but they felt like lead. The world spun around him, a hazy blur of lights and noise. Every nerve in his body screamed for relief, for it to end, but he knew he couldn't give up. Not yet. Not while Y/n was there, her life was at risk more than ever.
Another blow landed -a sharp jab to his ribs that sent him crashing to the floor.
Y/n let out a strangled cry.
—Jungkook! —she managed to get rid of Elijah's grip, her hands clenched around the bars, her nails digging into the cold metal— Jungkook, please, don't stand up. Please.
The hopelessness hit her like a wave, and Y/n's legs wobbled. She couldn't get through to them. The crowd was a mindless mass, cheering for blood, oblivious to the life that was draining from the man in front of them.
And then, as if the world shifted in a single moment, there was a sudden commotion at the back of the complex. Shouts, followed by the unmistakable blare of sirens. The doors burst open, and police officers swarmed in, yelling commands and waving their guns as they rushed to break up the fight.
The room descended into chaos, yet her attention remained focused on one person.
The crowd scattered like ants, running in every direction to escape the raid. Even the fighter who was inside with Jungkook, getting his door opened by -probably- his trainer. She didn't care about the people that were getting arrested, who was or wasn't handcuffed, her eyes were locked on Jungkook, who was lying motionless on the floor of the ring, blood pooling beneath him.
She pushed past the metallic door, scrambling up to the edge of the cage as she opened it. She fell to her knees next to him, her hands trembling as she gently touched his bruised face.
—Jungkook, please, say something —she tried to run her hand through his hair to move his bangs back.
He stayed still, his chest moving weakly as he breathed, before he was moved to an ambulance by the paramedics. She wasn't going to let him fight alone, she wasn't going to leave his side, holding his hand tight through the drive.
—You're going to get well —she assured him—. I promise you will get well —she repeated—. I love you, please, stay with me.
He groaned, his swollen eyes barely fluttering open at the sound of her voice, at the meaning of her words. She sobbed in relief, brushing his hair back again from his sweaty forehead, while he still tried to speak.
Her fingers made a relaxing movement on his scalp, helping him accept the fact that he wouldn't be able to say out loud everything that was going through his head ever since she found out the truth about him.
Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett
19 notes · View notes
latenightsimping · 2 years ago
Text
THE EDGE
Tumblr media
“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels
Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.
Chapter: 1 / 2 /  3 / 4
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending
AN: First of all, thank you so much to those who left lovely comments and reblogged. I’m blown away by the support over a little idea I had, based on my own difficulties with the inpatient system. This is a series I’m really looking forward to, and still planning as I go? This second part is the last like, ‘scripted’ part, so I’m gonna have to actually light a fire under my arse and open up a dreaded planning doc lmao. Hope you enjoy this part!! also massive shoutout to @mantorokk-writes​ for putting up with my rambles and making me an amazing header image, you’re my beloved 💕
Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth​
Tumblr media
Nothing ever changed in this place. Waking up to stare at the same four walls until your door was opened. Same four walls that you showered and brushed your teeth in. Same four walls that you spent the majority of the day in, following a bullshit routine that was supposed to promote ‘positive mental changes’ and ‘the tools for a successful future’. 
You were smart enough to know that it was all a load of bullshit. For the first six months of your committal, you believed in it. Practically bent over backwards to show the doctors that you were making progress, holding onto the slim chance that you might finally get the news of being released after the bi-annual panels that were akin to placing your heart on the scale. Balanced against the feather of your guilt, of the timeline of events that still haunted you every waking moment. It took you a year to realise the odds were stacked against you. Two years in, and you’d given up hope of ever walking back out the front doors. Two years of the same day, over and over, no end in sight. 
Even the earthquake that had rocked the town of Hawkins didn’t really change things. It had meant lockdown for a couple of days until damage could be assessed, and it had spurned a lot of orderlies, nurses and doctors bouncing for a better life in another city. Leaving only the ones that were most likely too stubborn to leave, now more bitter and jaded for having to keep the job that made their lives that little bit more miserable. With less staff, it had meant a closer eye on behaviour, lest the patients got any bright ideas and decided an uprising was sorely needed. Any infraction could get you put in the hole, no matter how small and stupid it seemed. You’d seen one of the old timers be taken away for a couple of days when they decided to steal a pen from the nurses station. You knew it was because they wanted to write down their thoughts before they forgot. But you also knew that the staff got jumpy when a patient had something capable of being made into an improvised weapon. 
The day had started just like any other. Your name being called out as the door to your room was unlocked, tone already weary of the shift ahead and none too gentle. An escort to the bathrooms to get washed up and ready for the day, government issued toothpaste bitter on your tongue and the smell of cheap soap lingering on your skin. Yet another escort to the day room, the doors slammed shut after the last patient passed the threshold. You were still barely awake when the tinny audio system kicked to life, the shrill voice of nurse Koehn calling everyone to line up in front of the glass window of the nurses’ station for medication. How you hated those paper cups with medication inside that you didn’t even know the names of and didn’t get a reply when you asked about, the shitty juice used to wash them down barely tolerable. It had become a Pavlovian response; each sip meant that little bit less freedom, a sluggish haze descending over you that made everything numb and fuzzy at the edges. But at least there were small victories, coming in the form of a pack of Marlboros as a reward for taking the fucking things without a fight. You tapped the pack against your palm as you made your way over to the table you usually sat at, taking one out and dangling the filter between your lips as you nodded your head towards an orderly for the use of a lighter. Because God forbid you were allowed to hold one for more than two seconds, lest you burn down the building. A thought that had admittedly crossed your mind once or twice. 
By mid afternoon, you were six cigarettes down and in the middle of a game of solitaire when the door to the day room opened, and you turned your head on instinct to see what was happening. Miller’s hand on the door as she corralled a man you hadn’t seen before into the room, closing the door behind him and leaving him to fend for himself. He looked scared shitless; eyes frantically darting around the room, his hands curled into fists so tightly that it made his knuckles turn alabaster. Wild and frizzy curls that tumbled past his shoulders, failing to hide the red and angry scars that marred his neck and face. A little lost lamb in the den of poorly concealed wolves, the sight pulling at your heartstrings that you swore had been crystallised a long time ago. You never really believed in ghosts, but it was as if you were looking at a spectre. A shell of a man, barely holding on by a thread. He was a reflection of you, when you’d first got here.
Gathering up the playing cards, you puffed out an air of nicotine as you shook your head. “Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy,” you muttered, already dealing out two piles of cards before he realised you were talking to him. 
You glanced back over to him, his muscles tensed and a deer in the headlights expression staring back at you. It took a few heartbeats for him to catch on, and one glance back before his umber eyes settled on you again. “You talkin’ to me?” 
His words were softly spoken, a hoarseness to them that you’d heard from other patients who seldom uttered a word. A slight tremor to his cadence, that you easily picked up on. You nodded as you gestured your head to the wooden chair opposite you, leaning back in your seat as you studied your cards. “Staff get a bit jumpy if you stand by the doors too long. Suggest you find yourself somewhere to be that’s away from them.” 
The conversation seemed to hang in the balance; no doubt he was weighing up the pros and cons of talking to someone deemed a lunatic. You couldn’t blame him. A couple of residents here were like that. Would smile and make pleasant conversation, fooling you into thinking they were perfectly reasonable human beings. And perhaps they were. But you also knew their reason for being here, and one or two made you feel sick to your core. You heard the shuffling of rubber soles get closer, until he finally took a seat at the table. You kept your face neutral as you took another drag of your cigarette, settling the stick between pointer and middle finger. “You know how to play gin rummy?” 
You lifted your eyes as he picked up the cards, a look of confusion evident as his other hand scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t played for a long time,” he admitted, the volume of his tone still not rising above the level of when he first spoke.
You shrugged as he made the first move, noticing the way his eyes darted towards the carton of cigarettes in the middle of the table. You set your hand down for a moment, picking up the pack and pulling one out. “Doesn’t matter about winning, what matters is looking like you’re occupied,” you explained, using the cherry of the lit cigarette to ignite the other. Dropping the fresh one into the ashtray, you pushed it slightly towards him in offering as you picked the cards back up. “Idle hands are the Devil’s tools and all that shit.” 
His body language seemed to change at your actions, eyes narrowed as they flickered from the ashtray to yours. It was a look of incredulity, if you were reading it right. You couldn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, you’d think twice about accepting, just like he was. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
You held up your hands in mock surrender, offering a slight smile that didn’t show teeth. “Because you seem to have your shit together for the most part, and I’m sick of trying to have conversations with lunatics.” Technically the truth. He didn’t have to know about your burning curiosity just yet, but the thought of having someone around your age who still had his faculties to talk to was an offer that you couldn’t refuse.
You were greeted with a slight eyebrow raise as he scratched at his scarred cheek, something that you could now assume was a tell that he was nervous. The fear still evident, yet a spark of something only just alight in his eyes. “Aren’t we both technically lunatics?” There it was. A ghost of a smile, a blink and you’d miss it moment. 
“Depends on who you listen to,” you offered with a slight grimace. “Some of us locked in here are innocent.” 
“Are you one of them?” 
Your stomach twisted at the ever so slight tone of disbelief you were sure you picked up on. How many times had you sworn on everything you ever loved that you never did what they accused you of, screamed your innocence at the top of your lungs to never be heard. It made that cage you kept your heart in that little bit stronger, the muscle decaying from lack of oxygen. “Depends who you ask.” 
His body language seemed to change in small increments, the small shifts only recognisable if you were really paying attention. To see them meant hope; how many times had you spoken to another patient, to be met with a blank stare and slackened jaw? Under the surface, no matter how deep it was, there was life. No doubt beaten down so intensely that he’d locked it away for self preservation. But it was there, all the same. Another ghost of a smile as he finally picked up the cigarette, taking a deep, sharp pull and his eyes slightly fluttering with the relief that nicotine could bring. “I’m asking you.” 
It felt like an impossible question. If answered truthfully, you could still be seen as a liar. He didn’t know you, hadn’t heard your side of the story, or even the story at all. All he had to go on was an offer of a cigarette, and an invitation to sit down. 
But what did you have to lose? 
“I am,” you finally murmured, bringing the cigarette filter to your lips to fill your lungs with smoke as acrid as you felt on the inside.
There was a nod of his head as he looked down towards the cards, letting the silence settle as you played a few turns. Both of you avoiding the subject as much as the situation allowed, neither one meeting the other’s gaze. But it was him to break it, a soft sigh just before his admission. 
“I’m innocent too.” 
So he wasn’t here voluntarily. The circumstances not being one of contemplating suicide, or having a nervous breakdown. An admission like that meant he was accused of something, just like you. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you had no idea. It was pushing your luck to ask for more, but you had nothing else to lose. “What did they say you did?” 
You saw his whole body tense again, as if the question was a bullet through the chest. His grip on the flimsy playing cards tightening, jabbing the remnants of tobacco into the ashtray with a little more force than needed. “Doesn’t matter.” His voice had got impossibly quiet again, an edge of frustration to it. He was guarded again, no doubt starting to get lost in the negative memories that you guessed crowded his head every waking moment. Maybe similar to the ones that crowded yours.
You exhaled deeply through your nose as you chipped your own cigarette out. “Just as a heads up, you don’t have to tell me now. But around here, secrets don’t stay secrets for long. They’ll ask you about what you did in group therapy.”
You heard his sharp exhale, noticing his eyes getting glassy with unshed tears. His fingernails scratched the scars on his neck, near frantic as he shook his head. Over your time here, you could see what this was. It was a panic attack, in its infancy but rapidly devolving. It twisted your gut to see, knowing that it was technically your fault. But why bother lying about it, when he’d find out himself in the next few hours?
“Haven’t seen you around before,” you said softly, mind working overtime to try and head whatever he was going through off at the pass. Distraction seemed to be what instinct was telling you to do. “You get admitted today?”
He shook his head, unruly curls swaying as he did. “No, I uh… It’s been four months, I think.”
Your eyebrow raised as you shuffled the cards in your hand, deciding to avoid eye contact to give him a little breathing room. “You get upgraded from minimum, or downgraded from supermax?” 
“It was uh… A downgrade, maybe? I haven’t seen much of the place.” 
You let out the incredulous laugh that bubbled in your chest, clicking your teeth with your tongue. “Must have friends in high places. Rumour is you don’t get out of there unless it’s either a miracle or a body bag.” 
There was a spark of something unreadable in his features, your best guess one of realisation. You didn’t have enough information, so you decided to ignore it for now. “Is it as bad as they say it is down there?” you asked, cocking your head to the side.
“Probably, don’t know what they say,” he answered with a slight shrug, his breathing slowing back down as he focused on the questions given to him.
“They say rats crawl over you when you’re sleeping, and the guards carry tasers.” 
You got a slight smile in reply as he shook his head, focusing on the cards that you’d both long forgotten about. Becoming something more like a prop to dissuade the conversation being interrupted. “Not true. It’s just… Suffocating down there.” 
“Well, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but it’s not that much different here,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Anybody tell you the routine of the day? Where you gotta be at what time?”
He shook his head slowly, and you let out a long exhale. Of course nobody told him. But he’d be expected to follow the rules all the same, getting punished for something that wasn’t his fault. So, you laid it out to him. The whole routine that was the backbone of your life, and would probably be so until you either left this world or the Earth stopped revolving. Wake up, get washed up for the day. Breakfast, then community meeting. Recreation time. Lunch. Group therapy. More free time, though the option to go outside was there if it was a nice day and the staff were in a gracious mood. Some other form of bullshit therapy, depending on the day. Dinner. If you were deemed trustworthy enough, some form of manual labour was assigned to you to help run the hospital, totally not because they couldn’t afford the staff to do it, that would be absurd. Being guided to the bathrooms to clean up from the day and sent to your designated room for lights out and lock up. By the time you finished explaining, you’d managed to get a winning hand of cards, tossing them on the table as you reached for your cigarette pack. “Still jazzed about getting downgraded?” you asked with a wry smirk, raising your hand and getting the attention of one of the orderlies for the lighter. 
“Trust me, it’s better than being down there,” he muttered, mindful to keep his voice low as the staff member approached. Now his hands were free of cards, you noticed how he fiddled with something on his left hand that wasn’t there, perhaps out of a learned behaviour that he’d had long before this place. You decided not to bring it up. It wasn’t your place. 
“Guess beggars can’t be choosers,” you shrugged, grabbing another cigarette and lighting it with the cherry again. This time you handed it to him yourself, held out like an olive branch. One that he seemed hesitant to take, eyes flitting from your hand to your eyes in quick succession. “Never caught your name.” 
The very tentative trust in a barely budding friendship, however small it was at that very moment, hung in the balance. It was likely that he’d either never had kindness before, or hadn’t in a very long time. It hurt to see, and it hurt even more to know that he was acting as a mirror. The last person who’d ever shown you mercy had long gone, and you were completely on your own. Trapped behind enemy lines, with no weapons to show for it. The only thing you could do was find allies wherever they may be, and pray to whoever was above you that they wouldn’t stab you in the back. 
His hand reached out, mindful not to make any skin to skin contact as he accepted the token, bringing it to chapped lips as his eye contact dropped to the scratches on the table. “It’s Eddie.” 
You nodded slowly as you mulled the name over, though nothing was coming back to you so far. You were pretty sure you’d have known of him if he was this distinct to look at back when you were out in the free world. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of that world at this point, so it was easy to lose background faces in a sea of other stronger, more horrific memories. You gave your own name in return, a small smile flickering over your features. “Guess you better get used to shitty card games and even shittier food, Eddie. Seems we’re in it for the long haul.” 
As much as you tried for it to come out as a joke, it didn’t seem to land. You could see him wince a little at your words, as if they burned his ears, or perhaps it was the truth of them that smouldered. It had been a long time since you’d had a conversation that wasn’t around pills or therapy plans, and it showed. You cleared your throat as you tried again. 
“I mean, if it helps, you’ll be stuck with me for a long ass time,” you said softly, trying to keep the tone light though the words stuck to your tongue. “You’ll probably be getting out far quicker than I will.”
His eyebrows came together, a crinkle between them as he gave you a slight expression of confusion. You could tell he was about to ask a question, mouth open and words forming on his tongue, but the buzz of the intercom being turned on made him jump out of his skin. It was a whole body reaction; tensed muscles and eyes darting about, no doubt an inbuilt mechanism formed from something in his past that let him survive something. You put a hand up slowly, a signal to wait a second, nodding your head towards the glass panel of the Nurses’ station as Sanford announced lunchtime. 
“That sound will happen a lot around here,” you mumbled as you stood up, finishing off the last deep drag of your cigarette and stubbing it out in one fluid motion. “You get used to it after a while.” 
When you noticed he wasn’t moving towards the doors as you stepped away, you turned back with a kind look, bowing your head a little to meet his lowered gaze. “C’mon, stick with me, alright? I’ll show you around.” 
For a moment, you remembered being told that your first day. You could almost hear your voice morph into that person’s, the one who showed you initial kindness, and could see yourself in Eddie. You were yet to believe if he was innocent or not. All you had was his word. But all he had was yours, too. Truth and lies were a currency in this domain, with blind trust that the more valuable would be exchanged. But, if you were honest, you felt the need to tell the truth more and more these days, the bitter taste of them on your tongue and threatening to swallow you whole. But truth needed to be given to those who earned it, and wouldn’t run off screaming to the nearest orderly that you’d finally gone mad. 
And you just hoped that with the arrival of another supposed innocent, those truths would finally be shared.
153 notes · View notes
androgynousblackbox · 6 months ago
Text
How I Met Your Father. 10 [Appleradio, Radioapple]
A03 link
The big sand clock at the center of town marked just a few hours until the next extermination. After squeezing his family as strong as he could, hoping that somehow that could transmit all the emotions he couldn't put into words anymore without breaking, Lucifer passed through the portal directly to his palace forcing himself to not look back. When the portal closed off behind him, his living room suddenly felt too cold and empty despite the fire on the chimney.
“W-well, we got kicked out” said Lucifer to the piggy between his arms, forcing a note of humor.
He petted the small creature, trying not to think about his little girl commanding a group of bloodyhirtsty creatures against another group of bloodthirsty creatures with his bloodthirsty sinner of a husband as her back up. Or his fleshy body that very much could still be pierced by something that got too close to him and he didn't react in time, like his teeth in bed had been. Just seeing that wound on his shoulder briefly had been a sudden and unpleasant reminder that for all of his shadows, all of his magic and power, Alastor wasn’t indestructible no matter how much the man would want to believe it. The wildly different context in which that injury had happened was of little comfort.
They had talked a bit about their tactics, the strategy that they would use and it sounded solid enough for him to cling to hope that everything would be alright, but the bad thing about living for so long was knowing already that even the most solid plan on the universe could fail. Something unexpected could always happen to wreck everything. He would know it better than anyone. And his only option was staying put at home while everyone else was dealing with the forces of Heaven.
It was enough to make a boulder out of his stomach until it felt like his guts were going to spill. Why did he have to eat two servings of waffles? That was so fucking stupid of him.
“So!” said to the piggy, lifting him up in the air. Fat Nuggets just blinked at him, carefree and curious, not a single thought dedicated to what his owner could be going through or if he was going to ever see him again. For this piggy only now was all that it counted. It only mattered that he wasn't in pain right now. What a lucky one. “Since we are going to be stuck here for now, how about we play a little bit on the garden? There is a lot of flowers there that you can eat if you want!"
Fat Nuggets moved his pointy tail, tilting his head. Lucifer decided to assume that it was an affirmative response and he nodded to himself, somehow managing a small smile. As he carried the creature to the garden, Lucifer looked up to the sky. From there he should still be able to see the portal open up for the exorcists, plus the timer for the rest of his ring.
At that moment there was nothing to see. Sinners could still walk on the streets only concerning themselves with the usual problems of hell. They could keep going with their normal lives if so they wanted to. People would only start running to hide or scream closer to the final hour. Lucifer had see it so many times before, usually having a cup of tea in front of Alastor reading a book or listening to whatever music he felt in the mood for. It wasn't different than any other day of acid rain. When Charlie was too small to even know what was happening, Alastor would create shadow puppet shows to entertain her while Lucifer improvised background music. They didn't had to worry about anyone they cared about being caught outside and at risk. Their family was there and that was the only thing that mattered.
Now he was all alone and he could only wait.
"Play!" said outloud to no one, snapping himself out of that spiral of thoughts.
Oh, he knew that spiral too damn well, but he wasn't going to fall into it! Not today! If he ended up being required, then his daughter would need him sharp and ready for action. If she didn't, then all those dark thoughts would mean anything anyway.
Fat Nuggets looked at him in confusion and he realized he haven't given anything for the pig to play yet.
"Oh, right" He quickly made a bouncy ball in one hand and throw it to the garden. "Go, little guy, go! I will give you snacks if you do!"
The word snack seemed to be the magic one to stir up the piggy, running off towards the direction the ball went through to jump at a bush. Lucifer chuckled to himself when he came close and saw him munching on some flower he found, momentarely distracted. Lucifer looked up again to the huge clock again. Before the feeling of dread could set in at the back of his throat, he snapped a picture of Fat Nuggets because he was cute and he would damn if he wasn't going to take advantage of that when he could.
"Come on, you can't be satisfied with just that" said Lucifer, making the bouncy ball come back floating to him to show it. "Get this back to me and I promise something a lot more delicious just for you, alright?"
When he threw it again, Fat Nugget made sure to grab a big bite out of the demonic flower and eat it as he ran his short chubby legs to his new objective. Lucifer took more pictures, absolutely refusing to look up again and just stare at the screen.
The screen that he had forgotten had a slighty glitched picture of Alastor carrying a toddler Charlie over his shoulders. Alastor didn't even realized he was taking the picture, too focused on following Charlie's directions as she drove him by the antlers, both of them laughing. Lucifer's finger brushed against his wedding ring, taking a deep breath in. He had to believe they were going to be okay. He had to.
When Fat Nugget came back, the toy on his mouth, Lucifer smiled more sincerely to the creature. It had been a good idea to bring him, really. He would have to thank Angel Dust for it later. For the moment, he managed to distract himself creating some truffles to reward the little creature.
"But only one, you hear? Bring it to me again if you want more" said, throwing the ball towards the fountain zone that was paved. The little feet of the pig made quick short sounds over the stone as he moved towards the moving waters. "Oh, thirsty now?" Lucifer chuckled, making appear a elegant golden bowl and dunking it on the fountain before leaving it on the floor for him.
"I had to make it safe to drink, you know?" commented Lucifer, resting his cheek on his hand. "With a kid running around that wants to get everything into her mouth, I had no choice. You could try to get inside and the fountain itself will take you out before you could even think of drowning. Pretty smart spell, if I do say so myself." He made a face at remembering that still meant that Charlie would get herself on the fountain every chance she had, only to be taken out over and over again, requiring to change her clothing quickly or get a cold each time. To her it was fun. For them it was handling a drenched princess who wanted to keep playing. Alastor eventually forbide her to come closer to it and use his tentacles to distract Charlie if he ever caught her. Lucifer thought he looked so hot then. He groaned at realizing that train of thought was not going to help. That wasn't a good distraction, brain! "Fuck, why does everything have to be about them."
Fat Nuggets sniffed the bowl a moment, but soon must have find it suitable for his piggy standards because he lifting himself up on his back legs to drink with his front one on the border. Lucifer took another picture and lifted his head, but kept his eyes closed. No, he wasn't going to keep track of the time. No, sir, not him.
One quick look.
One hour now.
Lucifer swallowed hard.
"You do look a bit dirty" commented to the piggie. Some traces of dirt could be seen after him. "How you feel about a little bath?"
Fat Nugget stopped drinking just enough to give him the universal puppy look of I don't know what you are saying, but you are looking at me and I am happier for it. Lucifer cooed, petting his head before picking him up. This time he didn't turn around as he went back to the palace.
By the time he was drying up a freshly clean demon piggie with a towell, the familiar golden shackles appeared on his wrists. Lucifer was not surprised by them, not anymore, and sighed rubbing at his wedding ring with his other hand. They didn't weight anything at all, but what they meant was too heavy.
It meant that the extermination had already started.
--
Alastor looked down at the battlefield from the rooftop. The portal above their heads had already open and the exorcist were coming in. Most of their attention was concentrated on the front. Naturally, since that is where their targets were. They did not care for him.
"Let's fuck them up!" was the battle cry of Charlie, shield in hand, and he so wished that Lucifer could see her.
Their little fawn off to blast her enemies with sparkly explosion that spread them further to be attacked by someone else. She could be lacking on ferocity, but was compensating plenty by presenting a brave smile as her brave front.
He had to admit, though, the impulse of going there directly to act as another shield was rather strong. But they both agree that his role would have to be another. Every overlord or general knew that the best way to dismantle an army was to separate them and only then destroy them. The moment he stomped his cane in the ground and called out his magic to envelop the hotel, Alastor took out his silver pocket watch.
When Adam finally managed to pass through, Alastor counted 2 minutes and 45 seconds. If everything both Lucifer and Charlie said wasn't enough to convince him that the first man was an idiot, that would have done it.
"Not the brightest lightbulb on the chandelier, huh?" commented casually, going to the encounter of the winged self acclaimed dickmaster, as Charlie had called him once.
"Uh, excuse you? Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
"Alastor Morningstar, my good man. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!"
It was the first time ever that he presented himself with his actual legal name, rather than the last name he had made himself in hell, ever since he married. He never had a reason to do that before, but somehow it felt appropriate. That annoying tiny drone floating around the hotel could zoom in all it wanted, it wouldn't be able to pick the sound of his words anyway. The spell that Lucifer had cast all over the area after finding out about the attempted espionage would take care of that.
Adam's mask stared at him as realization hit him, before bursting into laughter.
"No fucking way! No fucking way you are the sinner Lucifer got hitched with!" Adam flew over the sign of the hotel, looking down with an amused smirk. "So you are half of the reason why that abomination won't stop being a pain in the ass? He must have gotten pretty desperate if you are the best he could get."
"Said the man who couldn't keep his wife even as he was literally the only other speaking creature on earth" said Alastor, grin growing wider. "At least my daughter hasn't tried to kill her own siblings yet. One must wonder how much the parents have to fail for something like that to happen, don't you think?"
He ignored the part about Charlie not having any siblings to potentially kill or not. Adam did not even think to bring it up.
"Oh, I see. You went to Sunday school once and now think you can be funny?" Despite his mocking words, Alastor didn't miss the way the hands of the first man gripped his weapon. "You think you are so tough just because you suck cock? Chicks do that all the time, dude, ain't nothing especial."
"On the contraire, I do a lot more than that" Alastor let his pocket watch hang from its chain and lifted it. There was a time in which jokes like those would be enough to shock him, but not anymore. "In exchange, my Lucifer does certain things for me. That is what marriage is. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that."
"Gross, man" Adam made a face before he noticed the pocket watch and his eyebrows came together slowly, recognizing its shine. That perfect impeccable shine that no other steel could quite replicate the same. "Wait, what the fuck is that? Are you planning to hit me with it?" added, starting to laugh again.
In all honesty he wasn't planning to use any weapons but himself and his magic if he could help it, but these were the kind of things that one does for love, wasn't it? Just carry around a little extra protection for the peace of mind of his husband was hardly a big sacrifice. It finally had come the time to put it to good use. Alastor now could smirk back, bringing the watch to his lips to brush it on top.
"Not hit. Maim" clarified, pushing the watch to have it swing on the air as he conjured up his staff.
When the chain wrapped around it, covering from the mic grip to the bottom like a loyal snake, Adam had lost his patience already and moved up his weapon. Alastor easily avoid it sliding to a side. When the first man redirected his guitar/axe to cut him again, Alastor caught it on the new chain that had materialized on his hand, alongside with two new daggers.
The hands of the clock were black, pointy and long, similar to the knives that he would weild something during his hunts when he was alive. Lucifer had said he thought it would be nostalgic for him, on top of a weapon he was familiarized with, and he wasn't wrong. He let the briefest of sigh at realizing that despite his mic now standing out at the end of each grip, the power within was still intact. They were still transmitting through the silver chain that connected them.
"Is that supposed to be cute?" Adam spat, taking a step back to aim again and again.
Each time Alastor was managing to slip pass them edge like it was costing him nothing. Meanwhile Adam was struggling to keep up. His movement were becoming slower, clumsier. Years sending off a bunch of silver birds to do the dirty work while he sat back and got all the credit. When he threw the first dagger, the chain seeming to dance in the air before he pulled again, a clean cut appeared across the A on Adam's chest. Adam stopped all for a second to stare at the thin injury, similar to how a long papercut would be. Just a bit of golden blood could be seen.
Alastor licked the portion that he had brought with him and immediately regretted it. It wasn't at all the strong, envigorating and delicious flavor of his husband. This was crude and smoky, like someone had wrapped a pack of cigarretes in raw meat, light it on fire and then served it on the driest bun they could find. Maybe it could be acceptable for a fast food restaurant, but after knowing what a gourmet meal was like this was only the more offensive for his taste buds. He would have to ask Lucifer to give him a palatte cleanser later.
"Did you just tasted my fucking blood right now?" Adam sounded genuinely surprised as well as disgusted. They truly did not prepared them at all for what they could see in hell. "The fuck is wrong with you."
"Don't worry, I don't plan to do that again" Alastor spit on the side, but the aftertaste was still there. "You taste awful raw. Maybe some cooking could help?"
"First you have to get a grab, creep!" Alastor laughed as he danced around the rooftop as the first man chased him.
When Adam made a particularly bad move, he pulled on the chains to make a new cut. None of them were lethal and they weren't supposed to be. They were supposed to be annoying and constant, to keep Adam busy on him and not even think about anyone else until he could find an opening for the final blow. It was almost embarassing how riled up he got. When Adam failed to catch the chain, breathlessly, he glared at Alastor as the radio demon fixed up his spotless suit.
"You think you are better than me, you fucking freak?" Adam spat, lifting up on his wings to put more distance on them. The sleeves of his robe were cut and stained as he send wave after wave of his power. "You have no idea of who I am!"
"Oh, but I know" sighed Alastor, as if they were sharing just the most delightful time catching up over tea. One of his tentacles was holding the shield that before had been the the body of his pocket watch, catching most of it and redirecting it easily without him having to do anything. Lucifer had outdone himself. "I know that I am better than you. Better husband. Better father. And for what I can only imagine" he chuckled, "better lover too, probably. Wait, is that why Eve left you?"
Now he could understand better why Angel used sex jokes so much. They were a quick and effective way to get people off balance, another weapon to keep control while others lose it. In men such as Adam, being the punchline of such jokes was a blow worse than any of their weapons could deliver. He could almost smell the bruised ego as the first man raised his guitar.
"I am going to fucking end you!"
Alastor could only see a flash of golden light before the floor crumbled under his feet. The hotel was being split on half. It took both an eternity and a second for his tentacles to catch him barely before his back hit the floor of the lobby, taking his breath away. His vision was blurry, not helped by the dust and the debris still falling around him, but soon could distinguish Adam floating above.
"Not so chatty now, eh, bitch?"
Alastor opened up his mouth, but was surprised when a bunch of his blood came out, so much that it made him cough. He lifted a hand to put over his neck and saw it come back drenched in red. His shield was still over his chest. It had done its job perfectly, keeping the body parts covered completely safe after such an attach. The issue had been that he didn't lift it enough on time. If it wasn't for the shield his body would have been cut in half already.
"Oh, what is that, buddy?" Adam smiled at the glare he recieved from the sinner. "Not used to have your throat occupied? Lucifer is the one who does that?"
"Fffuck you" managed to say, forcing himself to sit up as he called his shadows. Every word was a fight against his own body, almost as painful as the conscious effort of keeping his smile on. "You are a dead man walking… and don't know it yet."
"Oooh, the old timey fuck bleeding out swore at me! I am so scared!" Adam dedicated him two middle fingers, crossing his arms over his chest. "Suck it, whore! Go cry to Lucifer like the bitch you are. And when you do, tell him his unnatural mistake is next!"
"You must have… the smallest dick" said Alastor before he faded. Was it the more dignified way to get out of battle? Not at all. If anyone tried to tell him he said that, he would deny it given the chance. But it was worth it to see Adam getting furious again, whatever answer he had getting drown out when he was taken away.
"For your information, my dick is longer and thicker than anything you have seen in your fucking life!" screamed Adam still to the black stain on the ground right until it dissapeared entirely. "Jeez, what an asshole."
"DAD!"
Charlie entered the destroying hotel through the open entrance. She had only managed to see Alastor before he dissapeared and the blood around his mouth was enough reason to alarm her, even if she couldn't see nothing else. Her black eyes glared at Adam as her antler rised from her head, like skeleton hands reaching for the red sky. She pointed at him with a golden trident.
"What did you do?! Where is he?!" She took a breath, looking around with eyes wide in panic. A shadow, a small tentacle, anything that was part of him, just as she was trying not to lose sight of the first man. "Dad, are you around!?"
Adam grinned.
"That is going to be the last of your worries, girly."
--
"And this one is Captain Quaker" explained Lucifer, showing off the duckie with the sailor outfit to Fat Nugget. The piggie was comfortably laid down on a pillow over his desk, following all his movements. Lucifer had created a little duck onesie for him after his bath, so he would look extra adorable as he saw the king of hell going over his dearest creations. "He is a loyal and adventuruous duck that has travelled across all seven seas. There is no water body he hasn't dominated completely with his sheer optimism and good will. Other duckies are happy to come back to land, but not this captain! He is the most comfortable when he is on the water, ready to face whatever comes his way!"
He made the duckie swim on the air, creating an illusion of moving waves underneat with his other hand. The waves sparkled with rainbow shine as bubbles elevated in the air, as if were bubbles. Originally the whole point of Captain Quaker was to make bath fun for Charlie, but somewhere along the way he got invested in the acuatic adventures.
"What do you think Captain Quaker should do today?" asked, making appear an island of duck-sirens dancing on one side of him and a treasure map floating in the air. "We could maybe help out the nice duck-sirens to find their missing pearly brush or go look for a treasure that no other duckie has ever found! Which one do you think?" Lucifer gave some time for the piggie to react to. When Fat Nugget instead just stared at him tilting his head, he giggled. "Okay, duck-sirens it is then!"
He was about to set up his story when something happened with the golden shackles. For a moment they glitched out, just one time, before dissapearing entirely. It took him a second to understand what that represented.
"Charlie? Charlie!" yelled, running to the hallway. "Hey, whoever is listening, take care of the little pig while I am gone. If anything happens to him, I will kill everyone in this palace!" He quickly came back to the office to kiss the face of Fat Nugget. "I gotta go with my little girl!"
He opened up a portal, flying out. When he reached the hotel… or whatever was left of it, he detected the magic of Charlie on the lobby. He didn't saw all the other sinners fighting around or the bombs going on. Only Adam elevated in the air as he was grabbing Charlie by the neck. Charlie saw him by the corner of her eye before his fist made contact with the first man and then grab onto him when Lucifer catched her, coughing.
"It's okay, sweetie. I am here now" said, descending to the floor, away from the most dangerous looking debris. He didn't expected much, but it was still a bit dissapointing that none of their defenses was worth much in the end. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No" said Charlie, looking up with teary eyes. "Papa, I-I don't know where dad went."
"Don't worry about that, baby" Lucifer landed on an open area, letting her to get on her feet, and showed her his wedding ring with a smile. "Until death or divorce do us part, remember? He must be trying to heal himself up somewhere if he is not here. Was it too bad?"
"I don't know, I couldn't see it" Charlie sounded almost apologetic.
Lucifer rubbed her shoulder.
"He can take care of himself, honey."
Charlie nodded her head. She saw something above her father and reached in front with her hand, catching flawlessly the fist of Adam that tried to return the favor. Lucifer blinked at seeing it wasn't her normal hand, but rather a enlarged and more dangerous looking one covered in green magic. He had no idea that Charlie could do that. When his duckling let out a growl, he took a step back and ducked his head as Charlie easily spun Adam around to slam him against the floor. The impact of the hit created a crater that moved dirt and rock in the air.
"Wow" commented Lucifer, smiling to his daughter. "Honey, that was amazing."
"Huh?" Charlie flicker her eyes to him and then blushed, staring at her now normal hand. "Oh, this? Ppff, this is nothing, I… kinda didn't know I could do that either."
"Cool!" said Lucifer, patting her back. "Your magic is evolving, sweetie! I am so proud of you."
"For fuck's sake!" yelled Adam. His breathing came out jagged and heavy as he rised up from the hole. "Are you really doing this stupid bullshit now?" He gasped. "We are in the middle of the fucking battle and you are all oh I love you, daddy, now? I hate all you Morningstars, I swear. Bunch of lame ass bitches."
"Do you want to take him?" asked Lucifer, ignoring him.
"I… I don't know if I could do that again" admitted Charlie in a low voice, only for him to hear.
"That is okay, sweetie" Lucifer rolled up his sleeves as he got in front of his daughter, walking towards him. "I will do it then. Hey, Adam."
"What" The first man sneered at him.
Lucifer smiled wickedly as he pulled out his wings.
"Eve said you sucked in bed."
When Adam launched himself to him, Lucifer fly off with a joyious laughter. Between the previous battle and all the exercise he wasn't used to, his movement were too slow for Lucifer to have any issue keep him attacking away from his daughter. Adam wasn't stupid enough to not realize that and that only made him all the angrier. The king of hell couldn't have been slippier if he was covered in oil. Everytime he thought he could get his hands on him, he moved again. Lucifer was too obvious about playing with him.
"Stay still… and take it like your red bitch did!" finally yelled Adam. Lucifer stopped laughing and he took that as a sign of victory. He only perked up when Lucifer turned around. As a man who never had to fear death in eons, he rather easily could ignore the literal pair of glowing red flags staring at him. "Yeah, that is right! I knocked that stupid sinner down like it was nothing! What are you going to do about it, eh, tiny prick?"
Out of everything he said, that last insult was the drop that destroyed the glass and the table underneath. Lucifer's fist came faster than he could fully finish his sentence and it was back to the ground with him. At opening his eyes, he realized his mask had been shattered and falling in pieces from his face.
"Don't you dare to talk about him" warned Lucifer, floating above him in his full demon form. Fires was coming out from the sides of his mouth and with each word, accompanying his punches. With every hit, his smile only became sharper and his laughter more unhinged. "You come to my house, mess with my daughter and now try to talk shit about my husband? Let me remind why the call me the king, bitch!"
Charlie finally managed to catch up to them. She saw Lucifer lifting up both his arm above his head to conjure up a ball of fire and she slipped on the side of the crater.
"Papa, stop!" called, stumbling her way to them. Lucifer stopped before she could reach his shoulder, looking at his hands. "Papa, I think that is enough…" she started until she noticed that something was off. It took her a moment to fully realize what had Lucifer so fixated, specifically on his right hand. The golden ring that had been a fixed feature of his father, no matter what form he took, was gone. "N-no…"
"Charlie" said Lucifer with so empty and cold that made her shiver. "Look for Vaggie and stay with her. Do me a favor and don't look up."
"Papa…" Charlie didn't want to leave him alone, but it took a literal second for Lucifer to snap his fingers and make a portal appear right his daughter. The portal drop her near Vaggie, coming bruised up out the ruins of the lobby after her own fight and with her wings already out.
"Charlie!" Vaggie called, flying off to her to hold. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"Uh…" Charlie couldn't form any words, couldn't think, couldn't move anywhere.
Her whole body felt alien to her. Vaggie gently put her hands on her shoulders and Charlie shivered, looking at her as if she didn't recognize her.
"Hon, you are in shock" said softly, giving her a reaffirming squeeze. She looked over the princess and was somewhat relieved that at least she wasn't mortally wounded. This was something else. "Just try to breath, okay? Concentrate on the sound of my voice. I got you" Vaggie hold her face, making the princess to hold her gaze. "I am here. You are safe as long I am here. It's okay. Can you tell me what happened?"
"D-dad…" was the only thing that would come out of her before her knees gave up.
The tears wouldn't stop coming not even when she heard a growl that shook the earth under their feet. She knew what it was. How could she not recognize the voice of her father, even when it was with an emotion she never heard before? She curled up on herself as she also gave in to her own sob. Vaggie kneeled with her and hugged her tight, extending her wings around the two of them as everyone else kept fighting.
She did as her father told her to and didn't look up, not even when the screams started. The cannibals celebrated when the sky was filled with angelic blood and bodies dropping one after another, ripped apart, heads flying separated from their necks, no angelic steel required when it was the hands of an angel doing the work. Faster than any of them could have believed possible, only one exorcist remained and she had managed to escape from the debris to see the first man. What was left of him at least.
A recognizable flapping of wings announced the presence of Lucifer. When Lute looked up, she almost wished she didn't. It felt wrong to stare at the face of the devil while tears streaked his cheeks and his eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, completely drenched on the blood of the other angels. Wrong like only something that went against all plans still happened and there was no consequences for it could feel like. Wrong like being abandoned in the middle of a game whose rules she didn't know anymore.
"You were the only who call out his name. Did you cared about him?" asked Lucifer. Drips of blood were still falling from his claws, from his suit. His tears were the only clearing besides the gold all over his face. "Answer me" ordered, his growl making her to straighten up instantly, damn her military training.
"Yes, s… yes" said, incapable of holding his burning gaze.
"Good" Lucifer grabbed the halo near the head of Adam, a silver piece that didn't shine no more, and throw it like a piece of garbage against her to catch with her only arm. "Then you get to live. You get to live knowing you couldn't do anything to save him. Tell heaven this is the price for one sinner. Now go."
Lute didn't had to be told twice. She gripped to the halo on her hand and made the solitary journey up to the portal.
Lucifer stayed in place, like a statue left in the middle of the sea.
"Papa…" the voice of Charlie, ever so soft, was the only thing capable of making him turn. To him she looked just as small as a little girl as her eyes swelled up again. "Papa!"
He opened up his arms to receive her when she came running, hugging him clumsy and desperate despite the blood that now was all over her too. Lucifer knew that he should be the one giving words of comfort, that it was his responsability now, but all he could do was hold onto her back and cry like he too had been abandoned.
--
When Alastor opened up his eys just the tiniest bit, he knew instantly it was way too bright for him and covered up with his hands. Why the hell was he even on his feet? The last thing he remembered was somehow managing to get to his old studio where he reserved a portion of Lucifer's blood for emergencies.
He would get drink it, effects be damned, and go back to the battle in no time. But then he got too dizzy to keep standing up and his body felt too tired to stand up from the floor, no matter how much he was ordering his arms or legs to do anything.
The next second he was… where? A hospital? It had to be a good one because he couldn't feel any immediate pain. He opened again, finding immediately the face greyish face of someone that was standing too close for comfort, as if trying to make sure that he was real.
Oh, he had to have been drugged with something, for sure. Something so good that took away all the pain and was making him have hallucinations as a side effect. How else could be explained that he was seeing this person with an halo over their head and white wings?
When he gave a step back, he touched a wall and finally could realize that this place looked more like an meeting room than any hospital he could think off. A too brightly coloured meeting room. Behind the person that was looking at him, another one was standing from the table, but this one looked more horrified than anything else. Another set of wings, another halo.
"Where is this?" asked, realizing that it didn't cost him at all to speak.
He took his hand to his neck and it was intact. No bandages, no scarring, nothing. Far from making him relax, that enerved him even more. The younger looking person in front of him squealed.
"Welcome to heaven!"
Alastor stared at her. Maybe she was drugged too, wondered hopefully, even knowing that he wasn't high and instead was way too alert to deal with any of this.
"Come again?"
"Heaven! You came from hell, don't you? But now you made it here, congratulations! Oh, this is so amazing, I knew that Charlie was right! Isn't it great, Sera?"
The older looking person, apparently called Sera, let herself fall back on her chair as if to let all the horror she was contemplating wash over her. The younger one, not at all detered by this, smiled big at Alastor, whose only comfort was to think this had to be a nightmare. Only his mind would be so cruel to bring out the name of his daughter on this context and make it feel so real.
"You must have done a lot of soul searching and good deeds in order to be here now! You have to tell me all about it whenever you have a chance, I am dying to know! Oh, wait, no, I am so rude. My name is Emily, by the way! And yours?"
Alastor looked at her extended hand just in time as his found the handle behind him. He opened up the door and came out, running away from all this nonsense.
11 notes · View notes
mollymauk-teafleak · 2 years ago
Text
top gun/daisy jones and the six au
So like the little magpie I am, I have once again stolen one of my lovely gf's hyperfixations in a piece of media I haven't even consumed. Because what better way to consume media than just having your gf @hangsters tell you all the best bits and then help you make a top gun au?
So there is an up and coming rock band in the 70s music scene called Top Gun, consisting of Nicholas 'Goose' Bradshaw on drums, Ron 'Slider' Kerner on bass and Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky on lead guitar and vocals. They've recently added a relative unknown called Alice Duong on keys to round out their sound (who keeps drawing the eye of their bassist) but they're struggling to climb the charts.
Their success and their struggle is all down to their lead and originator, Iceman Kazansky. Fellow musicians can't stop raving about the technical flourishes in the songs, the skill and effort put into every solo, the way Kazansky seems to live and breathe music. But that experimental nature is struggling to capture people who'd just be listening to the radio on their way to work.
So their manager has an idea. Guess who he also represents, whose was a massive hit before the drugs and alcohol and partying caught up with him, who works a crowd like no one else and just oozes raw charisma and just got out of rehab and needs a comeback? Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. And he could be just what Top Gun needs.
Instantly, Mav and Ice struggle to get along. Mav comes into the recording studio like a hurricane, messing up Ice's perfect riffs and technical genius with improvised solos, lyric changes and a general disregard for anything Kazansky (or anyone who ins't him) has to say. The rest of the bad worry that this could wreck the band entirely rather than save them. But the songs that come out of this battle are genius and sell like gangbusters.
So they tour and Ice and Mav are still butting heads but it seems to have...shifted. Like they hate each other but they love it? So no one is really surprised when one of their arguments over a song turns into the hottest sex.
But there's a problem. Maverick has never ever had a relationship like this where it's with someone he actually might love? And he panics about not being good enough, about letting Ice down and the pressure of having a gay relationship in the 70s. And yeah, he's always bucked gender roles (he's trans but not out publicly) and played with sexuality in his music but Ice feels real and he's so scared.
So one night Ice finds him high and shaking in the bathroom after a show. And he just helps him into the bath, washes him, gets him to drink water and takes care of him. But he tells him 'you have until December 1st when the tour ends and then you're done with this. you're going to get clean and be a good man for me'. And Maverick does.
Meanwhile, Goose is struggling being away from his high school sweetheart and love of his life Carole. They get the whole adorable 'if I say I have a record deal will you marry me?' thing and they have a cute backyard wedding when they realise she's pregnant and then along comes little Bradley who Goose loves more than anything (I have hangster stuff in this AU also but this post is getting long)
And eventually, after show after show of Slider staring at her, Alice finally confronts him. She's met guys in this industry that see her as a muse, see her as a skirt and nothing else and she's so done with all that. She just wants someone who treats her like a person and if Ron's gonna be that person he'd better hurry the fuck up and kiss her before she gets sick of waiting. And slider was just scared to be like one of those guys so he was holding back but now he has the go ahead he's kissing her like there's no tomorrow.
But yes I'm so deep in this AU it's not even funny and I'm looking how I can get some fics or maybe even a multi chapter thing out of it so! Ask questions, send requests, please enjoy!
36 notes · View notes
lampmanliveblogs · 1 year ago
Text
For the Future Liveblog
Tumblr media
Owl House! Owl House! Owl House!
And who knows, with the return to the Demon Realm maybe we’ll actually get to see The Owl House in this episode! More likely, we’ll get to see King and The Collector’s game of Owl House, whatever that will look like.
But yes, my general predictions for this episode… the following bullet points represent the major story beats I expect to see as well as the general structure.
•I think the opening scene of this episode will act as a parallel to the opening scene of the previous episode. In that we got to see what happened right after the end of King’s Tide in the Human Realm. I think we’ll get a similar scene from the perspective of the Demon Realm. I think that will be followed either by a flash forward to the present day, showing what King and The Collector are up to, or…
•We see The Exiles (plus Camila) return to the Demon Realm and witness the state of affairs. They’ll likely try to find their families and allies and try to figure out where to go from there.
•Previously mentioned state of affairs include King & The Collector’s game of Owl House. I’m expecting King to fake it until he makes it and improvise his way through the whole thing. The thing is, he said they needed an entire island’s worth of people to play, and The Collector does seem powerful enough to make and entire island’s worth of people participate in his games, regardless of their wishes.
•To make things even more complicated, we also have to factor in Philip. What exactly he’s planning, I have no idea. If I had to guess… it probably has something to do with The Collector. If this celestial toymaker is powerful enough to deactivate the draining spell, they’re certainly powerful enough to reactivate it. Or just sink the island into the boiling sea.
•End on a cliffhanger to lead into the final episode.
Some other guesses include a bit more on the backstory of Philip, Caleb & Evelynn. Obviously, I’m expecting more character development and growth from Luz and probably also Hunter. Oh, and maybe we’ll even see Luz’ palisman hatch!
Also, Bat-Queen.
Anyways, let’s get into it!
Tumblr media
Called it. We’re indeed starting off at the end of King’s Tide. This time, however, we got a shot of the exterior of The Head, showing how The Collector straight-up split it in half. Once this grand game of Owl House concludes, regardless of who wins and who loses, the Boiling Isles will not look the same ever again.
Tumblr media
”It feels like the whole world is singing!”
Cut to people screaming and running for their lives as this Child of the Stars rains down fire upon the tiny mortals below.
Tumblr media
”Yeah, I wouldn’t call that ’singing’”
You know things have seriously gone off the rails when King of all people has to be the voice of reason. 
Tumblr media
King says that the fun game The Owl House, which he totally did not make up less than five minutes ago, is kinda like a game of pretend. Which is kinda what I suspected he’d go with. But it did make me wonder… what would a game of pretend even be like for a god?
At this point, I stood up and paced back and forth through the room, contemplating this question. It was pretty fascinating to think about,  but not something I believe most of you people are interested in hearing me ramble on about.
The important part is this; if we go along the line of thinking that The Collector is a god, then most gods are able to create things either from nothing, or by turning one thing into something else. We see The Collector reshape parts of The Head into their new Owl House. So a game of pretend for a god that is able to create things they imagine would very quickly become a game of reality.
You know how as kids we all pretended sticks we found to be swords (I definitely do not still do this) or magic wands or what have you? It would not surprise me if during their game of pretend, if The Collector were to be given a stick and told to imagine it as a sword, that stick would become a sword.
In other words…
What’s life like when you grant your own wishes? Sorbet skies full ’a honey & kisses! Baking? Self-reflection? So exhausting! Take those imperfections & coat them in frosting! Craft your life, give it all you can give it And pray for the day that you might be forgiven
It’s a fitting reference because King can’t Say ’No.’ Maybe I should add another nickname for The Collector and start calling them the Prince of Plastic.
Tumblr media
Lilith! It’s been far too long!
And of course! If anyone can defeat the godlike Collector, it would be the great and powerful Lord Hooty! Their battle will be legendary!
13 notes · View notes
valnes941 · 5 months ago
Text
Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 3
It was getting evening.
There was less and less light coming out of the cracks in the ground, the tree-like crystals grew dimmer and dimmer, and the birds' singing became silent.
In the cyan jungle next to the cave, night and tranquility were falling. The entrance to the cave was covered by a large number of dangling dark green metal vines, acting as an improvised door. Fortunately, the temperature here did not vary much during the local twenty-four hours, to the inhabitant herself this model of door reminded her of something oriental. She was inside and nestled comfortably on her side on the makeshift bed. Retracting her wings, she managed to extinguish her fire and plunge the place into a pleasant darkness. Even without her nightlight in the form of a blue crystal, she was well aware that she was looking where the dining room was, her feet could rest against the wall if she wished and her head against the ‘work’ table.
She sighed heavily and rolled over onto her other side. Her glowing violet eyes reflected in an unusually well-polished sheet of unknown metal (it made an excellent mirror). The purple motobot immediately came to mind. A faint smile appeared on her face.
She had mistaken it for a horse the first time she saw it. No, have you seen the local horses? They turn into motorbikes! It wasn't her fault that in her attempt to get to know the local fauna better, she'd managed to catch just him! No wonder she dropped him almost the moment he was in her hands in all his glory.
Remembering now the shocked look on his, what she thought, shocked face made her want to laugh. The humble chuckle could have been well heard by any other creature, had there been one in the cave.
But there was no one. Not a single soul besides herself.
It wasn't as noticeable in the daytime. And yet time passed quickly: watching crystal butterflies and metal plants, catching up with moto-horses, playing with glass hummingbirds… Before she'd been on Cybertron, none of that had happened. Yes, space was empty at times, but the fact that she had a family was reassuring. Her father had been a smug jerk, and her younger siblings had scattered across the galaxy early…. Well, there were a lot of good times. Not bad for a reborn human.
But there were no beds in space. Oh, it took a lot of work to make one. Well, it also took time and a lot of sheep-like animal wool. They're very peaceful creatures. Favoured the local marshes, if you could call them that. She didn't know why they were so untouched by possible predators, but since they were the only creatures with such a feature, she ‘clipped’ a little from each one every couple of days until she had enough. Until then she had to sleep on bare metal.
In the end, she ended up with even a little more - the leftovers made a nice cap for a nightlight. After all, this crystal never stopped glowing, which was a bit of a problem. But the blue light diluted the atmosphere nicely. Green, of course, is kind of supposed to be a calming colour, but not in such quantity. Got it at the foot of the mountains beyond the river.
There was enough of that in there. Has a weird tingling electric flavour and is quite caloric. Gained a couple of pounds before the taste was no longer a novelty.
But it seems the local civilised robots feed on it - distill it into liquid form, maybe add something else - and drink it. At one time, she'd noticed that the resulting ‘clear’ drink was darker in adults than in children. Though, given how wide the Cybertronians' growth range was, it wouldn't be surprising if some of the smaller robots turned out to be adult minicons.
My eyes finally closed, and everything went completely dark. The only thing that could be distinguished was the quiet breathing, which gradually slowed down. Sleep had taken over the place completely.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Far to the west of the cyan jungle, and even from Festus Fax in the forests at the foot of the Manganese Mountains, a dark blue mech, with a triangular red visor covering its faceplate, was moving toward this settlement. His quick but silent stride, his careful gait, made him look like an experienced hunter. But it was getting dark, and it was too dangerous to go any further, especially in such a wild place as this. So it was decided to find a more or less safe place to rest. It was soon found: it was a space between several interlocking crystalline trees - large enough to accommodate him, but with a passage narrow enough to keep anything bigger than him from climbing in. Slowly pulsing cable vines replaced the ceiling to some extent, and some of them dangled in such a way that, when viewed from the side with the proper imagination, one could see a miniature rain of stars.
For some reason he hesitated before entering. Looking up, he put out an arm bent at the elbow, and an imperceptible sound wave erupted from his helmet. It didn't take long for the result to come: the sonicondor appeared almost silently, sitting down on the proposed perch in the form of a manipulator and then rubbing itself against the fur's chest plate. Holding the avinoid, he scrutinised the possible shelter.
The mech nodded satisfactorily, satisfied that there had been no changes since his last time here. He released the sonicondor, covered the entrance from outside and inside with vines, and began to prepare to reload.
Suddenly his chest compartment opened up and two rectangular blocks flew out, transforming into two identical red and purple coloured robots respectively and landing deftly on the servo. The large indigo mech pointed two fingers at them, then pointed at their surroundings and, raising his index finger upwards, outlined a circle in the air with it. The minicons nodded back at him and dispersed in opposite directions, towards the cracks that could become entrances for uninvited guests.
Und Vox vented a sigh of relief: finally some rest. The journey had not been easy, but they were getting by. Their little family had practically returned home almost within a vorn of leaving it. Good old Festus Fax, small and cosy. One can only hope they didn't miss anything important. I wonder how Somnic is doing? Knowing her younger brother Stentor, you can tell she's definitely not bored. The fact that he's best friends with his Furor and Rugit is the best proof of that. In the first few days after their return, no one would dare let their guard down.
These little menaces can make a mess of things even separately, one can only guess what they can do when they reunite again…
Oh, the sparklings will be eager to hear about the journey, and they'll be only too happy to talk about it. The uncharted forests of the Manganese Mountains, the shore of the Rust Sea with the Hydrax Plateau visible in the distance, the Sonic Canyons that respond to every noise with multiple echoes - it took a lot of effort and concentration to capture them at their best.
And yet you have to stop to think. The night was not rubber, and tomorrow they would have to get up early to make it on time.
2 notes · View notes
mindyourownbiscuitss · 2 years ago
Text
As promised here’s my long Brettsey post, because Chicago Fire pulled me back in despite my hesitancy. 
Okay, to start with, I’m probably somewhat delusional, but that didn’t feel like an open-ended storyline nor closure. It felt like an opening for either a recurring role for Jesse next season or a Kara exit. 
They had two chances to give Brettsey closure. At the end of season 10 at the Stellaride wedding and this last episode. Neither happened. Everyone was worried they’d have Matt say that he was happy for Sylvie in her new “serious relationship”. And that he was happy in Portland. Which was totally implied in the season 10 finale. Either they threw that in for the drama of it all or the writers now know something they didn’t know at the time. 
Thinking back to Jesse’s exit interviews and Haas talking about the long distance problems and obstacles, it feels like this was maybe somewhat planned out. Outside of the little things like Sylvie losing her phone for a bit in an episode and her and Matt not being able to catch each other at the right time, there weren’t very many obstacles for them in season 10. She went to visit him twice and only when she came back the second time did the problems start to show. Then they broke up in the season 11 premiere. And honestly what main Fire couple hasn’t broken up at least once for the drama? Brettsey’s was different because Jesse left right after they got together. Also, as the anon brought up earlier, Jesse even said he’d pop in once Sylvie got in a new relationship and look what happened, lmao. 
Now to the episode itself. Despite how sad the ending was, it gave me more hope than 10x05 did. Which, tbf, while I was more than happy they decided to try the long distance thing, I knew it’d be unlikely to be successful in the long run. They could have used this opportunity to give Brettsey real closure like Haas was trying to do in 9x15 for D@wsey. He just couldn’t get Monica back so he had to improvise by having Matt say he wasn’t in love with her anymore after the phone call. That they weren’t in love with each other anymore. Matt all but admitted he couldn’t move on because he was still in love with Sylvie to Stella.  That’s a big parallel to season 9 when he said being with other people makes it worse. He didn’t have that problem when he hooked up with the reporter after his divorce. Why go this route if there’s no plan to get them back together? I mean I know the Fire writers are cruel but they’re not stupid. Or that stupid anyway. And Sylvie? Poor Sylvie. I think they captured it perfectly. She thought she was moving on until she saw Matt again. Then after the hug? That was it. She knew she wasn’t over him. Showing her crying? Weirdly enough gave me hope. This is all leading somewhere because the easiest thing would have been to give them closure. 
This is leading to one of two things, I think. Matt coming back via a recurring role for Jesse. Which seems like the more likely scenario considering the other hints we got with Matt telling Boden that Chicago was home and that a few things had to fall in place to come back, etc. Plus Jesse talking about wanting to come back for appearances but not full time. They could easily have him in a handful of episodes and make it work. Second thing would be a Kara exit. Yes, they’ve written it as she didn’t want to leave for another guy and Chicago is her home. But Matt isn’t just a guy. He’s the love of her life (thank you Wolf Entertainment Twitter for admitting that) and she’s obviously not happy without him. They could have her expand paramedicine out to Portland and become a paramedic out there. She wouldn’t be giving up her career and life for someone else. She’d just be changing location. But this really does feel like more of a set up for a Matt comeback on a part time basis. 
Anyway, I’m preparing to be a clown about all of this. 
Tumblr media
16 notes · View notes