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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

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Natalia

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia has a way with the refs

You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you look at the smear of mud on your boot. You know boots get dirty but this is a new pair and you had hoped to keep them cleaner than this after their first game.

It's a little annoying but there's not much else you can do.

Actually, you haven't had much to do in this match at all which is probably the reason why you can take so much time to inspect your shoes.

The action is on the opposite side of the pitch for the most part with brief forays into the midfield but the ball never got close enough to you to need to touch it.

You like playing, obviously, but sometimes it's nice to be on the field and not have to do much. At least when your mothers are in the crowd because there's always the added pressure of keeping a clean sheet when you have to go to dinner with them afterwards.

Besides, a seven-nil lead on a team at the bottom of the table is always fun to watch while on the field.

Talia has been tearing up the opposition's defence. On a hat trick already with a brace of assists you know she'll be searching for a third to complete her set.

On the bench, you can see Alexia bouncing her leg with the other coaches as if this is a make-it-or-break-it game. You're at the top of the table so you can only think she's hoping for the goal difference to increase.

She's a bit intense like that.

You're a bit more relaxed though. It's a mixture of the usual starting eleven and some of the kids from the B Team, testing out formations and roles.

Your defensive line is mainly the kids but they take orders well and don't seem to mind when you micromanage them.

You usual defence know what you want before telling them so it's a seamless partnership. The kids just need a bit more guidance sometimes.

Not that you've really needed to do it this match with all the action up the other side of the pitch. But, still, it's nice that they listen to instructions.

This match has been an easy win for Barcelona but that doesn't mean it hasn't had its mishaps.

Yellow cards have been flying around since the moment the whistle was blown. Three in the first half and four this second half. It's a little impressive, actually, because this referee isn't really known for giving out cards so willingly.

You think that's probably why Alexia seems so intense on the bench. A few players are a yellow card away from being suspended from the next match and you've got matches against second and fourth in the table in the coming weeks.

She'd probably try to take over for coach yelling if anyone got suspended.

You sigh as another altercation happens in the midfield. Some attackers collide with your midfielder and they go down.

It's a clear yellow but it seems like the ref is done giving out cards this match. It's the wrong decision but you're not about to march up to her and tell her that.

Talia seems to have no such reservations.

You can't quite hear what she's saying but you know she's arguing because her hands are flying around and her face is all tense and the vein in her neck is bulging.

This ref is a bit trigger-happy with dissent though and you can see her hand twitch towards the cards in her pocket.

"Talia!" You yell.

She ignores you.

"Natalia!"

She turns her head slightly to the noise but doesn't stop.

"Natalia Guijarro!"

She turns to look at you and you point to the space in front of you.

She jogs there, panting from exertion or yelling, you're not quite sure.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you dare get a yellow for something as silly as arguing."

"But-"

"No, Alexia's about to blow a gasket on the bench and you'll just give my Morsa more reason to dislike you. Go and get another assist so you have something to brag about."

She sighs, kicking a patch of grass stubbornly. "Fine."

"Good."

Talia ends the match with no yellow cards and a hattrick of assists to add to her hattrick of goals.

Alexia gives you a nod of thanks as you pass her before she turns on her heel to go yell at the players that got yellows.

Talia's arm wraps around your waist as you approach the stands.

"Good game," Momma greets as you stop in front of her.

"Good game for her definitely." You nudge Talia. "Hattrick queen."

Talia's cheeks glow red at the praise. She always does that when it's you complimenting her.

"Almost got a yellow card too," Morsa says and you roll your eyes.

Her whole act of annoyance with Talia is so flimsy at this point.

"But she didn't."

"Yeah, I suppose she didn't..."

Talia's grin widens.

"Let us get changed and we'll meet you outside? Or reservation is in forty-five minutes."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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vintagebunnies · 22 days

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consider sleeze bag mechanic simon but when he tries to it turns out the pretty little thing knows just one to many things about cars (and her car is her BABY) and properly reems him for trying to overcharge and make issues to get more money. simon doesn't know if hes pissed off that hes been called out or turned the hell on by the pretty thing yelling at him

i love ur brain so much

you had only come in to get your tires rotated, just routine maintenance. luckily for you, the new body shop had availability that day and whaddya know! simon’s the mechanic on call for that day.

simon’s eye latches onto you immediately. he thinks you’re this sweet little thing, you won’t know if he charged you a little more!

little did he know, you knew a thing or two about cars, and he should’ve realized that if he actually heard the way you talked about your car and explained why you were here.

you were at the receptionists desk just filling out some paperwork, and simon was working on your car. he rotated your tires for you but decided that your gasket had actually blown and your car was leaking coolant all over the shop.

“seems like your cars leakin’ coolant, love.”

“excuse me?”

“it’s antifreeze. you put it in the reservoir-“

“no no, i know what coolant is. what do you mean its leaking?”

“could be a blown gasket, lemme check it for ‘ya.”

you seem a little unsure at first, wholly aware that your cars completely fine and you would’ve noticed if your car was leaking anything, but decided to let him check anyways. (at this point you’re kinda just testing him. you would know if something was wrong)

simon pops your cars hood and he winces, shaking his head as he checks where your coolant tank should be.

“looks a little rusty darlin’, i can replace it but just know i’m gonna need the cash for the tires first.”

you were already reaching for your purse, already knowing how much that should be, but he keeps talking before you could pull out your wallet.

“that’ll be about $250 includin’ replacin’ the coolant.”

your face just drops. that’s outrageous! there’s no way.

“are you fucking kidding me? do you think i’m dense, asshole?”

simon knew for a fact he was overcharging. if he was told that he had to pay that amount he’d spit in the mechanics face and walk away. but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting you to know that.

“fuck that. there’s nothing wrong with my coolant tank, and a tire rotation shouldn’t be almost $300. shove it up your ass.”

you throw $70 cash at him and slam your cars hood shut.

simon’s cock chubbed up at the way you yelled at him, and keeping his eyes permanently trained on your breasts when you close the hood of your car. (he also couldn’t stop thinking about pushing you against it, pulling your pants down, and fucking you right there against the damn thing as he forced you to tell him everything you knew about cars)

#heart rate went up when writing this #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

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mega-ringsandthings-world · 5 months

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Okay. I know the general consensus is not this, but if Catelyn had been told the truth about Jon from the get go, she would have treated him better. Relatively. Like, she wouldn't have gave him shit for being a bastard or been ice queen bitch stepmother to him, but uh. there would have been other issues. Just think about how having Catelyn aboard the hide-Jon-train would go for one second. For one second. Okay? We are talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully. And we are also talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully before the other four kids came along. Just her baby Robb and Ned and Ned's nephew. (and if you don't think that Ned saving Jon from under Robert's nose on a promise to his sister wouldn't make I-released-the- king-slayer-to-bring-back-my-daughters-Catelyn fall so hard in love with him her head is still ringing fifteen years later you are LYING to yourselves) So think mother gothel. She would have micromanaged the shit out of Jon's life and upbringing. Ned is pretty lax so as security measures go in terms of Jon, but Cat? Winterfell would get turned into FBI headquarters. Vibe checks at the door and retina scanners and Jon and Robb have a praetorian guard on their cradles. Yeah she'd be cool to Jon in public as he grows but in private she's frantically brushing his hair every night looking for whites. Holding him up to the light to check for hints of purple in his eyes. As they get older she namedrops bastard a lot but secretly actively fosters a relationship between Jon and the other kids because Catelyn-Sansa-will-be-queen-of-the-seven-kingdoms-Stark nee Tully knows about the pact of Ice and Fire and having one of the last Targs bouncing around is tickling the politician in her. That being said she institutes a book ban on Targ history and is always on Ned's ass about them playing dragons. When Arya is gets old enough she makes it a point to put her and Jon next to each other at all times. Jon getting a direwolf are goddammed holy blessing to her. When Robert's dump ass comes to visit she's having a conniption about Jon being recognized and nearly locks his ass in the crypts until he decides of his own free will to sit in the cheap seats before she blows a gasket. She hates the Wall idea because who the Fuck is going to watch this kid as well as she's been doing for the past fifteen years? WHO? If she had found out about Aemon being up there she's have blown up castle black. Jon, who has had to deal with this shit since attaining spatial awareness tries to get Benjen to let him take his night's watch vows at Winterfell's weirwood. Man wants OUT. He can't deaal with tiger mom ass no more. When he comes to visit Bran she slips and says something cryptic and weirdly affectionate and it puts his ass in a tailspin all the way to the Wall.

Like, I know people think it'd go more downhill if she knew about Jon but why? Boring. Uninspired. Booooo. Get fun with it.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #catelyn stark #jon snow #catelyn tully #jon asoiaf #asoif/got #asoiaf jon #asoiaf meta #asoiaf au #asoiaf analysis

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saturnville · 7 months

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torture, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan + black!fem!oc (amelia egan)s

content: John is interrogated in Germany.

an: y'all...part 6 of mota....tore me up. spoilers ahead. let's talk about this part! comment, reblog, and send asks!

gif: @olympain

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Married?”

Silence. The air was tense. How could it not be? An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory, beaten like a mule, and whipped like a Roman traitor. Just outside of his line of vision, he saw the bodies of soldiers and civilians drug across the gravel lot. An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory and questioned like a federal criminal by a German pilot who grinned like a cashmere cat; evil and conniving. Silence.

The German interrogator, Hausmann, chuckled dryly and hovered his pen over the sheet of paper under his arm.“From what I hear, I assume you are unmar—“

“I have a wife,” he answered gruffly after some time. A lovely wife, at that. Full of love and affection, mercy and kindness. He missed her dearly. He kept a photo of her in his breast pocket but was too fearful of the damage to look at it.

His throat felt thick like maple syrup running down the stump of a tree. His jaw shook as he inhaled the lit cigarette. He pushed the smoke out of his nose.

Hausmann hummed. “Yes, Amelia. Amelia Mae Egan, correct?”

John leaned forward. How the hell did he know that? He clenched his teeth. The tips of his ears reddened.

The interrogator nodded, his eyebrow-raising in amusement at the pilot’s demeanor shift. John saw the wheels turning in the man's head. In frustration, he ashed the cigarette and dropped his hand against the desk with a thud. The blonde interrogator met John's blue eyes.

“Sorry, Major, I had to ask for documentation. She’s a beautiful woman. I didn’t think these kinds of…couplings were common in America. They aren’t here.” Gasket blown.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” John hissed. His voice raised an octave which caused the interrogator to jump slightly.``You asked if I was married, and I said yes. I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here, but I’m sure it isn't a part of your freakin’ protocol. Keep my wife out of it.”

Hausmann raised his hands in defense and laughed lightly. John failed to find the joke. His patience wore thin. “Easy, Major Egan. I meant no harm. But um, I have to say, you are making this harder than it needs to be. I simply would like to talk to you, so, I’ll ask you again…”

The words went over his head. His mind spiraled out of control. He had never seen this man in his life yet he knew of his personal life? He knew of Amelia. His precious Rose. He knew of his relationship with Buck, and he was holding it in front of him like a treat for an animal. Is that how he was viewed? As a rabid animal who went killing people like it was a sport?

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He was nothing but a soldier trying to defend his country. If there was another way to solve the issue, who would he be to decline the proposition? And this…this was the punishment for it? His dignity, his life, and his purpose were all questioned by a man who was no better than he was. It was torture.

John’s tongue scraped the roof of his mouth as he lifted his eyes from the papers littered across the desk. Planes crashed. Soldiers lost. His wife at home, clueless about what had gone on. She was unaware if he was alive or dead. Hell, he had no clue where his fate lay either. Would there even be an opportunity to hear her voice again? He could only pray.

He blinked away the tears that pooled in his eyes. Once again, he stated, “John Egan. Major…” Torture indeed.

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tojisun · 2 months

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I just thought of an au.

I was watching old F1 clips and the 141 as race car drivers makes me insane.

Like ghost with his black helmet sprayed to have a skull on the front, he argues allot with other racers butting helmets with them (literally). Soap can be quite reckless, has blown his tires and gasket too many times to count. Price is an iconic older driver, knows his way around a track and can drive just about anything. Gaz is new on the scene, young, confident and full of competitiveness. Kinda like lightning McQueen lmaooo

idk enough of f1 to add my lil silly drabbles but i fuck w this so hard i started yelling !!!

okok but— (and bear w me)

ghost butting helmets with other racers but someone on tiktok overlayed a cunty music on top of the video so now them butting heads turned out to look homoerotic LMAOO

when soap does burn through his tires and everything, i just imagine him snapping his helmet off and throwing it on the ground in his frustration, before looking at his car forlornly and, if you get a good angle of his face, you’d see how he just looks so heartbroken oh the poor lad :( like full on pouting

BUT ALSO mmmxmndj him whipping his helmet off and people are blessed with the sight of his overgrown mohawk and his flushed cheeks and his angry furrow and pout— HHHHH

price def would be that man who starts trending because of a properly-timed post of a mini-montage of him dodging things on the tracks, showing off how quick his reflexes are and how topnotch his reaction time is. like he’s just so damn fluid in the tracks, it’s addicting to see him race

LIGHTNING MCGAZ OH I ADORE god yk im just imagining gaz being dismissed when he debuted because yk people expected a little bit of flunking and even minute crashes, or even exploding tires, etc. and he started off slow, trailing about third in the lineup, so people weren’t that awed. but no one hinged on the possibility that he has more to give and gaz ends up winning his first race (and multiple more after that) through diabolical overtakes. HHHHH i can see it so vividly im frothing

god i love this sm </333

@talooolaaloolla @iite-cool babes look!!

#anon #ask #task force 141 headcanons #task force 141

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decepticononline · 9 months

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TFP Knockout X Breakdown “Tell me you need me.”

This is a secret santa gift for a discord server I am in, dedicated directly to @neonhoneycomb ! Merry Christmas 🎄 I enjoyed writing this!

Warnings: NSFW, size kink, medical gore, angst, spike comparison, squirting.

The hologram target fizzled out of a view, which caused the ex-wrecker to growl in frustration. His rapid vents exhausted one after another as he retracted his blaster in defeat. He'd been in the training room for almost the whole cycle to work on his shooting aim now that he was… impaired. His non functional optic made all forms of combat almost impossible. He couldn't make a clear shot to save his own aft, let alone his partner's.

Before Breakdown could exit the armoy room, his comm system loudly pinged. A slew of cybertronian curses fell past his dermas when he saw the comm was from Knockout. That indicated to him that he had been absent from the med-bay for far too long.

“Need something?” With a nonchalant tone in his voice, the navy blue deception tried to play off the situation. It wouldn't work, but there was a 99% chance that if he didn't sound like he was doing anything wrong, then maybe he wasn't.

“Do I need something?! Great question because what I need is some assistance in the med-bay.” Even without seeing Knockout's face plate, it was obvious the mech was highly irritated.

“Got it. I'll be there in a-” The comm ended abruptly, and Breakdown's singular beaming yellow optic rolled in its socket. Over the comm Knockout had sounded like he'd blown a few and a half gaskets since he'd been gone, and that made him much more resilient to take any longer to return.

Upon heading towards the med-bay, the mech passed by two badly cauterized vehicon drones, one of them still leaking energon onto the deck plates of the ship. Knockout must have been too busy to repair him correctly, but it didn't look severe, so the vehicon could walk it off… eventually.

Two red glaring optics followed the ex-wrecker's movements as he entered the med-bay. If looks could kill, Knockout would surely be vaporizing him with just his vision right about now. The red medic didn't offer a greeting nor a chastising remark as his silence was more than enough to do the trick.

“Sorry, got carried away in the armory.”

Knockout still said nothing while he cauterized a gaping wound in the shoulder-plate of another vehicon. He took his time with this one as the injury was fairly deep into the cybernetic metal. Knockout gestured to the data pad on the medical berth, without saying a word Breakdown knew he wanted him to start logging in the Vehicon’s credentials for an injury report. On his way to the opposite medical berth, the ex-wrecker let a servo graze against his partner's hip strut.

“Don't you dare start.”, a deep chuckle rumbled within Breakdown’s chassis as he tried to calm his highly displeased lover. The reaction Knockout gave him didn't make him feel any less determined with his goal.

“I need a set of sharp pliers. There's a bullet fragment still in here.” Knockout's digit inched into the deep cavern of wound the vehicon drone shuddered with pain. The sensitive protoform within his shoulder-plate was exposed, and leaving the fragment in there would never let the gouge heal properly.

“You know I'll give you whatever you need.”

“How about you drop it?”

"How about you hold it."

Knockout's red optics widened, and he debated on whether or not he should hurl the cauterizing scalpel at the larger mech. “Enough!” The red medic said with a hiss before snatching the pliers out of his partner's servos.

After removing the plasma bullet fragment and completing the cauterization of the wound, the Vehicon designated as ST3V3 was evicted from the med-bay. Knockout shut the sliding doors and began logging all the services perfomed for that cycle within a data report for future reference. He had never seen so many patients at once, especially not when there weren't any instances of Autobot retaliation.

“This cycle has been one of the worst in awhile -” Knockout's digit tapped rapidly against the datapad screen, furiously filing his own report. He knew his paint job looked like a wreck and that he would need a good polish and wax after a cleansing station visit.

“- You weren't here helping because you decided to go frag off to the armory room.” It wasn't often Knockout needed to scold the other mech. He was usually resourceful and there when he needed him, lately Breakdown’s been consistently absent from his duties and refusing to pick up extra shifts with him. The mech declined going out on a patrol of a newfound energonmine, which Knockout deemed to be completed out of character for him.

“I'm still missing almost every shot, I can see but at the same time I can't see slag! Everything just looks off, I've never felt so useless.” Both of the ex-wreckers servo’s slammed down on the medical berth in front of him out of frustration.

Knockout's posture softened, and his optic ridges slightly raised. Breakdown was being… vulnerable around him, this was rare. He knew the mech had been having some difficulties accustoming to his sight with the subtraction of an optic, but he wasn't aware of how critical the situation was. If anything he thought the mech was toughing it out like he did with everything else.

“Your vision, it'll take some time to restabilize. The lack of an optic is going to make things hard for you, but it won't be impossible.” The medic approached his partner and let his servo grasp the side of his faceplate. He'd never seen such defeat on the decepticon ex-wrecker before.

“And you're not useless. I wouldn't be able to do this without you, and you know that BD.” The dermas of the two mechs came into contact with one another and that gave Breakdown all the permission he needed to pick up the smaller mech and pin him down on the medical berth.

The size difference between the two of them wasn't as severe as it may have been amongst other cybertronian relationships but it definitely gave Breakdown the upper hand at being able to maneuver Knockout how he wanted. The connection of oral receptors continued as Knockout slipped his glossa in and danced it along Breakdown’s, enticing him of what was further to come.

The ex-wrecker's thick digits circled around Knockout's interface panel before the plating willingly slid down with a hiss. The aroma of the red mech's dripping valve filled the med-bay, and Breakdown broke the kiss.

“You're already ready for me?”

“You think I didn't enjoy your antics earlier?” Knockout vented deeply as Breakdown pressed a digit at his entrance before slowly sliding it in.

His lubricating slick coated the intruding digit, and the quick clenches of his valve walls urged it to start pumping. A growl left Knockout's vocal capacitor when a second digit joined refuge within his valve. Breakdown knew exactly how to angle his digits to make the medic's frame twitch and heave. A loud moan erupted from Knockout when one of Breakdown's digits began rubbing circles around his outer-node.

“Tell me you need me.”

“Frag- I do!”

“Then say it.” Breakdown quickened the pace of his digits, and the lewd slick noises only became audibly louder with the furthering of Knockout's pleasure and excitement.

“I need you!” The medic's sharp digits dragged along the underneath of the medical berth leaving gashes across the underside. Breakdown's servo was showing his valve no mercy as it shamelessly guided him to a long and drawn out overload. It didn't take long for Knockout's walls to start to spasm and small spurts of lubrication to erupt from his valve. He rode out his climax with a guttural groan and a very brief rev of his engine.

Even the interface panel housing his errect spike slid off to allow him to leak thick beads of blue transfluid from his tip. Only when the medic was coming from his high did he pay attention to his partner's thick spike leaning up against his own. Their size difference wasn't just on the outside, as Breakdown was a good size and a half larger than Knockout in the spike department.

Knockout could swear to primus they were made for each other with how well he'd fill his valve when they interfaced. Breakdown lined up the tip of his spike against the soft mesh valve folds in front of him before pushing forward to enter. The entry was quick and painless as Knockout's frame knew this game the two of them would play all too well.

A beep went off on the docked datapad stationed at Knockout's desk, which indicated that there were new inbound patients to the med-bay. Knockout looked back over at the mech, who was currently still inside him, who bared the expression of a sad cyberfox pup who'd just been told to stop.

“We're finishing this. They can wait... Besides, I still need you.” A smirk appeared on his faceplate, telling his partner that the two would have a much longer cycle ahead of them...

#tfp #knockout #transformers knockout #transformers smut #knockout x breakdown #decepticons #robots #secret santa #transformers prime

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writingquestionsanswered · 11 months

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Not sure if this was asked before but... how do you get your *passion* back for writing - or any old hobbies at all? Maybe bc of ADHD, but I used to hyperfixate on writing, reading and other things. They were my world. Now, when I actually have time to write... my interest is meh. Mild. Barely exists. But I'm still interested. Just not passionate. My heart doesn't flutter at new OC ideas anymore - or ships. Or family dynamics. I'm bored... what gives?

ADHD: Interested in Writing, But Not Passionate

I really struggled with this. Mainly, because I have a hard time wrapping my head around, "My interest barely exists but I'm still interested." I can't make sense of that.

I've written three different versions of an answer, none of which I liked in the end, because I think the long and the short of it is this: you can be interested in writing generally, but stuck on a WIP or unable to get started generally. And there are all sorts of reasons why you can be stuck on a WIP or unable to get started generally (including executive dysfunction... thanks, ADHD!) However, at the end of the day, if writing was a hyperfixation for you, that may be all it ever was. Even if some part of you is still "interested."

Which brings me to a story from answer attempt #2, which I think is still worth sharing. Years ago, I hyperfixated for weeks on a particular historical topic. I couldn't get enough. I read about it, watched documentaries about it, subscribed to magazines about it, fell down topic-related rabbit holes for hours at a time. My brain needed to understand every single thing there was to know about the topic, which was troublesome because everything about this topic isn't known... even by those who study it.

One day, my attention shifted to something else, but I never really lost the "interest" in this topic. My ears still perk when I hear something about it. I still skim articles about it when they come up on social media. I would probably pause in my channel surfing if I happened on a documentary about it. But my interest isn't the same. It's not enough for me to dive in to the extent that I did when it was a hyperfixation. And this was tested by the fact that not long ago, I visited a museum with a whole wing dedicated to this topic. And I knew it was a big deal that I was there, and that hyperfixated me would have blown a gasket out of sheer joy, but I just wasn't able to engage with the exhibits the way I wanted to or felt I should. I was looking at the artifacts and absorbing the words on the exhibition labels, but I wasn't feeling anything about it. It all fell flat. Which was kind of depressing, to be honest.

So, I'm telling that story because I think there's a very real possibility that may be what's happening for you with writing. It may just be a hyperfixation that still interests you in some way, but which can never really inspire that same level of interest you once had--unless you become hyperfixated on it again, but there's no way to force that. And there's no way to know for sure if that's what's going on except to try some of the things suggested in the links below to see if you can troubleshoot a cause or kick start your motivation. If not, it may just be something you did once and may come back to again eventually. ♥

Guide: Filling Your Creative Well Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! Feeling Unmotivated with WIP

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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rinwritesfics · 15 days

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Please

Plot: When a vendor at a market blows a mysterious powder in Echo’s face, a series of events happens – and not all unwelcome between the two of you.

Warnings: pollen, pollen blown into face by a person, feelings confessions, creampie, slightly dom Echo, a single (light) spank, fairly vanilla, aftercare insinuated, fade-to-black second round, unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, folks! (I hope that’s all.) MDNI!!!!!

Word Count: 3,589

Author’s Note: I have tried and tried to edit this to where I feel I want it, but I was down from COVID and then lost a family member, so that is where it has finally ended up. No use of Y/N. I hope you like it!

The sun shone comfortably on the village as you walked with your favorite person. Echo.

This beautiful, wonderful man had volunteered to accompany you into the village on a supply run, and you couldn’t have been happier. The warmth in your heart sure enjoyed the fact that he had spoken up so quickly.

“We need only one more thing, right?” you asked Echo.

“Just the gasket grease rated for high vacuum situations.” He nodded, his helmet modulating that voice you like so much.

You looked up at him and shook your head, snickering.

He tilted his head, the afternoon sun shining off the helmet a bit. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? It’s a gorgeous day and there you are pretending it’s raining out.”

“But, I always wear my bucket,” he protested.

“You were just talking this morning about the dangers of lacking vitamin D. I distinctly remember because we had to stop Wrecker from making a lewd joke in front of Omega.”

Echo chuckled and you smiled. Even through his helmet, you enjoyed his laugh. It was always a breath of fresh air.

Sometimes, he would immediately decide to put his helmet on, even when you two were just stepping outside briefly and then he’d seem flustered when you asked him about it, like he was embarrassed he forgot about it. You liked seeing his face. It was his, and no one else’s. He may share genetics with thousands and more other souls, but that face? His alone.

“Alright, you’re right,” he said, caving like he usually does. He couldn’t seem to say no to you, but that was nothing you were going to take advantage of.

He took off the helmet and breathed, greeted with fresh air instead of that stale recycler in his suit.

“Besides, it’s not for very long. You won’t get a sunburn.” You grinned, teasing him slightly.

A small smile appeared on his lips.

Yep. That beautiful, perfect face of his.

You both turned a corner in the market, nearly to the last stall you needed to stop at.

The closer you got, the louder a voice became on your right, yelling about her wares. You started to pass her stall and she called out about having the perfect remedy for a boring couple’s night. The sign above her white-haired head was a play on the term “Love Potions” in the native language which didn’t translate as cleverly into Aurebesh. Echo was closest to the stall and traded a suspicious glance with you.

“Ah, you two look like you could use something to spice up your love life! Try my newest concoction! First try is on me! I guarantee you’ll like it, and you’ll come back for the full-strength dose!”

“Oh, no ma’am, we’re not -” Echo began correcting her, but she cut him off.

“I insist!” she cackled, then, before anyone could stop her, held up a small piece of folded cream flimsy in her hand and blew a red dust into Echo’s face. Echo stumbled back, coughing and spitting out whatever got into his mouth as he bent over. The crazy older woman cackled gleefully and turned away.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” you yelled, suddenly enraged. You wanted to give her a piece of your mind, but Echo continued to cough and struggle for breath and you dug into your pack for your canteen. “Echo, Echo hey, use this to rinse your mouth when you can.”

He took the canteen as his coughing settled, took a swig from the canteen and spat out the water twice, then chugged part of the canteen. You waited for his breath to settle before asking if he was okay. In response, he wiped away the tears on his face and poured more water over his eyes, which you could easily guess were burning.

“Echo, talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling.” You looked up at him, worry in your eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse, “yeah, I’m okay. Let’s just keep going.”

“I’m going to, after I give that shopkeeper a piece of my mind.” You scowled at her stall, which had gathered quite the customer attraction in the past minute or so. Obviously, they hadn’t seen Echo get assaulted.

“No, she could do the same thing to you. Besides, if the security around here didn’t do anything about it, then apparently it’s a normal occurrence.”

“But Echo, that’s wrong!”

“It’s not our planet.”

“But -”

“Hey.” He grabbed your arm and turned you to face him and not the stall. “Hey, I appreciate what you want to do, but there’s nothing we can do now.”

You sighed heavily, seriously contemplating agreeing, then turning around anyway. But there was a look in his eyes that was unfamiliar. You frowned and he blinked and it was gone. You saw it, you know you did, but you couldn’t identify it. “Alright. Let’s hurry, then, and get out of here.”

Quickly, you got the last item on your list and began making for the exit. The last shopkeeper said nothing about the events that transpired with the last stall, which only served to confirm Echo’s theory that it happened often here. You made a mental note to not return to this village if you could help it.

Everything was progressing fine on your way back, and you almost swore that Echo looked like normal before he collapsed to his knees on the cobblestone path about a block from the exit of the main center of the village. His helmet rolled a couple feet away from him.

“Echo!” you cried out, rushing to his side. He shook his head, as if dazed, then flinched as you placed your hands on his upper arm when you tried to help him up. He groaned and you froze, kneeling beside him and looking at his face. There was a rosy coloring in his cheeks and his pupils were wide, almost blown. “Echo?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I-I don’t feel very well.”

“Can you get back to the ship?” you asked softly. He placed his hand over his face, then shook his head.

“You go back, I’ll just wait here.”

“Echo, I’m not leaving without you.”

“You have to. Go. If you start off now, you should be able to make it before the sun sets.” His voice was very strained and he didn’t move his hand from his face.

“No. I’m not leaving you. Come on.” You helped him up, scooped his helmet off the ground, and led him to the village’s version of a bed and breakfast. You paid for a room and helped Echo up to safety so you could look him over, the room door shutting just behind you.

“You need to lay down so I can examine you,” you said gently.

A tiny whimper escaped his lips and both yours and his eyes widened.

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

You said softly, “Echo, I have to find out what’s going on.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the stuff she blew at me.”

“All the more reason for you to lay down. Armor on the floor and lay. Down.”

You started to dig through your medpack and his armor hit the floor with multiple clunks at slightly hesitant intervals. The bed let out a small protest at his weight as he sat down. You stood up and saw him laying back, but with the leg closest to you up.

“Alright, what is bothering you the most?” you asked as you approached. His cheeks, slightly flushed, darkened. And so was his gaze, you noticed as you got closer.

“I’m not sure you want to know,” he almost whispered, his voice cracking a bit.

“What? Why?”

He paused, looking at you with fear and something else.

“Echo, please,” you said softly.

“That woman’s powder was an aphrodisiac,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, and he laid his leg down on the bed. The tent in his blacks was prominent.

You blushed. “E-Echo?”

He sat up and started to reach for you, but he stopped himself despite his wide pupils. “I… I understand if you turn tail and leave now.”

You had often imagined going from friendship to a romantic relationship with Echo, but not this fast. An unwanted aphrodisiac, even one at partial strength, could be dangerous to him, and even to you if you stayed. You could help him. You could be there for him. But how could you leave him when this could hurt him? How could you let him suffer?

“I….”

How could you even think about how much you wanted him when he was suffering?

He groaned and the decibel stoked the growing fire in your lower belly. “Mesh’la, save yourself. I don’t know what I’m capable of. And I don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

You cleared your throat and sputtered, “I-I have to find the antidote.”

“Do you think she has one?” he asked, pushing his head back against the bed, his face screwed up in something you couldn’t identify. Pain? Pleasure? Both?

You sighed, then shook your head. “No, I don’t think she has one.”

“Maybe… maybe it’ll wear off?” he suggested, then gasped loudly.

“Uh, maybe....” I say, the faltering hope in my tone unconvincing.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. It could get metabolized by his system, but there was no telling how long it would take, or how life-threatening it could be, especially since he was beginning to sweat and his heartrate was likely climbing if his breathing was any indication.

He arched his back as he tried to get comfortable.

“Echo, let me help you,” you finally whispered.

He finally looked at you, wide-eyed. “Cyar’ika, no. This isn’t right.”

You felt like you had your heart scooped out by a melon baller. He didn’t want you. “Oh. I-I see.”

“No!” he shouted, sitting up. “No, wait, that didn’t come out right! Please, no! I-I-I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, but I’ve never thought you saw me that way, and now… this isn’t the way I wanted to tell you.”

Your heart sped up and joy flooded your veins. You wanted to leap and scream out in victory, but now was the worst time to celebrate your returned affection. “Echo,” you breathed, stepping closer and he looked ready to bolt. “Let me help you. Let me show you how I feel about you by helping.”

He whimpered as you took off your shoulder pads, then your belt. “It’s… it’s wrong….”

It certainly wasn’t maintaining dignity, but this drug in his system was certainly not helping with that. “Would you rather wait it out? See how long it takes to clear from your system? If it clears from your system?”

He shook his head, then his eyes squeezed shut again. This time, the noise he makes is definitely pained.

“Echo, do you trust me?”

He mumbled your name, then sighed and said, “Alright. Please. Please help me!”

“Okay.” You began to strip off your clothes and he whined, watching you, and scrambling to get his off, too. When he stood up, naked and trembling slightly, you paused as you worked to get your socks off. Your eyes drank in his form with a soft gasp. Where his prosthetic legs ended, his delicious thighs began, muscular. The scars and stretch marks stretched up them, breaking through the gorgeous tan skin. He had stretch marks and scars, faded, all over his torso, too. The metallic ports sunken in his skin did nothing to detract from his desirable form, and your eyes roamed the shapely abs and pectorals that heaved with each breath. His biceps, strong, looked like they could hold you against the wall with enough ease. The veins that ran down his left arm were noticeable enough and you bit your lower lip before eyeing up what you saved for last. His length was standing fully and looked almost painful, and his tip was already shining with precum.

He watched you eye him up and you blushed, seeing the blown pupils and the flex of his hand like he was holding back. You stood slowly and his eyes drank in your form, a small whimper spilling out of his lips that made your cheeks warm.

“Are-are you sure you want this, mesh’la?” he asked, his voice a little higher-pitched from the nervousness peeking through the desire.

“Yes. I want to help you, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t like you like that.”

“L-like what?” he asked, but you had a feeling he had figured it out by that point. He just wanted you to say it.

“I love you, Echo. I’d do anything for you.”

Whatever held him back inside snapped and he strode across the room and wrapped you firmly in his arms, pushing his lips against yours. It was desperate and hungry, but not painful. He kissed you, open-mouthed, and you returned in fiery favor, feeling the heat of his breath through his nose on your cheek as his hand went from your waist to the swell of your ass and started to press his hips into yours, rolling a little for friction against his hardness. His hand began to squeeze your ass and play with it, including a playful smack. You gasped, then moaned.

“If you let me, next time, I’ll worship you and your body,” he groaned as his lips left open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hand reaching up to hold the back of your neck.

“Oh, Echo,” you moaned, the heat in your core upping itself.

“I’ll do it, I swear to you, but right now I-I can’t hold back.” He continued his assault on your neck, leaving marks, then moving to your collarbone and sucking and biting at it. The hand on your neck moved down to one of your breasts, massaging it and twisting your nipple. His mouth kept at your skin and you hadn’t noticed when, but his hand had moved to your butt, then migrated between your thighs and was starting into your slick from behind. The contact of his calloused fingers and the wetness between your lips almost made you crumble. He began to rut against you as his finger pushed in to the second knuckle and you moaned loudly.

“Oh, mesh’la, did I make you this wet?” he asked, his voice low. It was a tone you didn’t often hear from him. In fact, you didn’t believe you had ever heard it before. It sounded a little dark, and you squeezed your thighs together as best you could, partly trapping his hand at the apex of your thighs.

“Yes. Yes, Echo. Please, Echo, it’s all for you.” You began to babble as he started to walk you both to the bed. He let go of your body just long enough to move his arms to your ass and lift you against his body before throwing you on the bed under him. Your legs splayed open further than when they were against his hips a moment ago and he looked from your eyes to your glistening sex. A growl left his lips and he ran two fingers roughly through your slick to spread over his length. If the feeling of his fingers running over your bundle of nerves wasn’t enough to get a whine from you, the sight of him stroking his length was.

“All for me, huh? Do you think about me this way, mesh’la?” He started to drag his tip through your folds and you looked up from the show to his lust-filled eyes.

“I-I have, but I’ve tried not to.”

“Why?” he asked a bit roughly.

“Because thinking about you that way wasn’t right without you feeling the same.”

He paused, the look in his eyes clouded by guilt. “I’ve been the same.” Then, his eyes changed again, and he spoke in a controlled but strangled tone, “Once I get started here, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

You nodded.

“Words, cyar’ika. Beg me.”

“Yes, Echo, I’m yours! Stars, please!”

He began to push in. “Oh, kriff, you’re so tight,” he moaned. His hand moved from your hip and started to tease your clit. Your moan ripped from your throat and he grinned.

“Oh, Echo,” you groaned, your walls stretching as he pushed at a steady pace. It was a little painful, but as he ran his fingers over your clit, playing with it, you were able to accommodate his size as you grew more aroused. “Oh, stars!”

“Good job, taking me so good. Kriff!”

He finally sunk to the hilt and he moaned loudly. Your walls began to tighten around him again as he manipulated your clit and then ran his fingers up the inside of your hip to grab it. He didn’t say a word as he began to pull out, then push back in. The whines and groans you both made mixed with the slap of sweaty skin and squelching as he thrusted into you, the bed squeaking and creaking. Every ridge and vein prominent against your walls, you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Suddenly, he raised your right leg and started to thrust at a different angle, and you knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Come for me, baby. Come right on my cock. Oh, Maker, you feel so good!” he growled.

“Oh, oh kriff,” you groaned, which was no match for the deep and sinful moan he gave you before you yelled, “Echo!”

Your walls clenched, euphoria washing over you, and he rode you through it, his voice cracking as he yelled your name. Your veins filled with stars, your body set alight, and your vision went white for a moment. His thrusts began to get a little sloppy as he chased his own orgasm. Somehow, he was able to form words and ask permission.

“Where?”

“Inside?”

“Oh, you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Kark!” he swore as his hips faltered and his cock twitched. His breathing came in quick gasps while he came, still thrusting, then he almost collapsed on top of you. You kissed his sweaty forehead that was near your face and he chuckled breathlessly. After a couple seconds, he pushed himself up and went to pull out, but you stopped him.

“Leave it there, it’s okay.”

He chuckled again, then moved to your side, your legs still around his hips, laying down beside you as you turned to look at him. The shifting of his softening cock inside you felt overstimulating and arousing, but you tried to ignore it.

Something from earlier stuck out to you, but you pushed it away. He hadn’t said he loved you back.

His eyes roamed your face, finally clear of the lust, but lit by his smile. “You’re so gorgeous.” His hand reached around your face and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. The touch felt so nice, but was tainted by your realization. Was he just trying to be nice?

He went to kiss you, but you resisted and he pulled back, frowning. “Cyar’ika?”

“Am I?”

“What do you mean?” He pulled his softening cock out of you and you shuddered at the loss, the drag on your walls feeling good and you had to hold back a moan.

“Am I your sweetheart? Or is this only a one-time thing?” you asked quietly.

“Wait, I-”

“Because I love you, Echo. And I didn’t say it to convince you earlier. I truly love you. But I’ll back off if you don’t.” You sat up and started to stand. Your legs felt like jelly.

“Cyare, wait.” His voice cracked.

You turned around to look at him, and he got up from the crumpled comforter.

“Sweetheart, I do love you! You’re so kind to me and beautiful and smart. We’ve been through so much together. And I realized months ago that I was falling in love with you. I just didn’t… I didn’t want to scare you off.” He held out his hand for yours and you slowly placed your hand in his. He brought you closer and wrapped his scomp around your back. “I’m in love with you, cyare. I’m sorry it took me this long to admit it.”

You rested your forehead in the dip of his neck. “I love you, Echo. You mean everything to me.”

“And I love you, too.” He kissed the top of your head and you could have stood there forever if you hadn’t felt a little drip from your core. You clenched your thighs together.

You chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I, uh, hate to break the moment, but I need to clean up.”

He grinned, a little of that lust darkening his eyes again. “Can I help?”

You smirked, then trailed a finger up his chest. “Maybe, but it might get me aroused depending on how you do it.”

You felt him begin to harden against you again. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

You squeaked in surprise. “N-no.”

“Are you sure? Because that didn’t sound sure.” He began to nibble on your ear, his voice deep and seductive again.

A gasp escaped your mouth. “A-are you still under the influence of that powder?”

He shook his head, lips starting to ghost over yours. “No, cyar’ika. I’m thinking pretty clearly, now. And I’m thinking I need to worship you like you deserve.”

You murmured against his lips, “Well, Corporal Echo, I’m all yours.”

Taglist (open!): @trixie2023

#tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #rinwritesfics fic

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heliads · 2 years

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Hello heliads i wanted to request a jeper fahey x reader, based on the prompt "stop stealing my clothes"

Please and thank you😊

hello anonymous here is your jeper fahey request

masterlist

You are enjoying a rare moment of peace. In a place like the Barrel, such instances come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve gone this long without hearing gunshots ring out since you first joined the Dregs. That’s not even to mention the shockingly low level of stabbings that have taken place over the past week. Perhaps nature is healing. Ketterdam can never truly clean itself of all violence, but it can come close to a sort of truce, and you’re enjoying the aftereffects of that now.

Your peace is only defined by the lack of violence that surrounds you. It isn’t quiet, so to speak. The Barrel never could be quiet, even if you forcibly dragged out all the criminals and thugs and let the stadwatch rule the streets like they’re meant to do. The canals would still roil with sound, the streets would still let noise echo up to the rafters. This city of yours was never meant to rest for long. Still, you can find pockets of serenity in it, breaths caught in between chaos. For this fleeting moment, you are calm. Such things are treasured almost as much as kruge.

Thus you have it all before you, the rarest bits of tranquility in the world’s last bastions of grime and disorder, and thus it is taken from you within a manner of minutes. One instant, you’re sitting by yourself in a quieter corner of the Crow Club, nursing your drink and pretending you’ll ever be at peace for longer than a nanosecond, and the next thing you know, you have company. Not unwelcome company, to be sure. No, not unwelcome in the slightest.

The sight of you might be more unwelcome to your company, however. Jesper Fahey has barely slid into a seat in front of you before his easy smile drops into an exasperated groan.

Fingers rising to pinch the bridge of his nose, Jesper gestures uselessly at you with his free hand. “What the hell is this?”

You decide to feign innocence. “A friend, Jesper. I’m a friend. Hard enough to come by that you’ve started forgetting what they look like, huh?”

Jesper slides a deeply troubled look your way. “Obviously I’m just grand when it comes to my legions of friends. You know what I’m talking about.”

You prop your chin up on your hands. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Jesper snorts, “you do. You’re wearing my hat. And my coat, if I’m not mistaken.”

Not one to trifle with his marksman’s eyes, you give up your ruse at last. “Perhaps it is. What do you have to say about that?”

Jesper grimaces. “I shouldn’t have to say anything about it because it shouldn’t be happening. Stop stealing my clothes.”

You grin. “No.”

Jesper narrows his eyes at you. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no,” you clarify, “I rather like this hat. And the coat goes so well with it. It would have been criminal to leave it behind.”

“It would not have been criminal to leave the cost behind,” Jesper argues, “it would actually have been less criminal. You know stealing is a crime, right?”

You nod solemnly. “And a terrible one at that. Out of curiosity, from which store did you buy this hat? Since stealing is such a crime, I know you got it from a reputable source.”

Jesper’s air of confidence grinds to a standstill. “Of course I did. Why would you ask such a thing?”

You ask such a thing because you happen to know perfectly well that Jesper stole the aforementioned hat from the house of a wealthy mercher. Kaz had his team break in with the intention of grabbing a few documents, nothing more. He’d nearly blown a gasket when Jesper insisted on taking the hat, especially since it was being worn at the time of the theft. It had gone well in the end, Jesper had snatched the garment from the head of the sleeping mercher with all the grace of a second coming of the Wraith, but the chastisements from Kaz had been legendary.

Knowing this backstory, you fix Jesper with a terrible grin. “Oh, no reason. I was just wondering if you might have happened to steal it in the first place. That would make my theft of it more okay, right?”

“I don’t like your logic,” Jesper comments.

“Of course you don’t,” you say soothingly.

Jesper shrugs and downs a swallow of his own drink. You don’t entirely remember it arriving at the table, but for as long as you’ve known him, Jesper has had a knack for being able to conjure drinks out of thin air. Every time you ask, he makes up some excuse about his tens of thousands of admirers, but you think the bartenders just know that they’ll end up with high tips if they ply him with spirits early on.

Encouraged by the fire of Ketterdam’s finest brew, Jesper carries on his argument. “Look, you know what, I’ll allow it just this once. Don’t make it a habit, though. I happen to like those clothes.”

You beam triumphantly. “I knew you’d come around! I’ll try not to get blood on them as a thank you.”

Jesper shudders. “Don’t say such things. The thought of stains on such fine craftsmanship makes my hair stand on end.”

You pretend to be affronted. “Not the thought that I might be injured in them? Be honest with me, Jesper, would you wear the coat again if I died in it? You cannot lie.”

He laughs. “Depends on if there were visible bullet holes or stab wounds in it. I prefer quality garments over that whole ‘distressed chic’ thing the stores keep trying to push on us.”

You roll your eyes. “Not the fact that I might be dead?”

“Of course I’m not worried that you’d be dead,” Jesper says easily, “I know you wouldn’t be dead.”

You cock your head to the side, considering his statement. “In the Barrel? How can you know that?”

Jesper shrugs, as if the truth he’s bestowing is just common knowledge and not something that has the power to completely devastate you. “I wouldn’t let it happen. If someone tries to hurt you, well, I’d like to see them try. I’d welcome a good challenge.”

His eyes gleam, and as he speaks, Jesper’s hands drift to the pearlescent handles of his revolvers. Jesper likes to pretend that he’s untouchable by the stresses of the world, utterly without principle and unable to feel something as bone crushingly mediocre as fear, but in this moment you almost believe it. If someone tried to come in between Jesper and someone he cared about— and Ghezen forbid that person in danger was you— Jesper would burn the entire city to a cinder just to make sure you would feel its warmth. There is no gamble he wouldn’t bet on to keep you by his side.

For some reason the thought of it is far too much to consider, and you find yourself turning away, unable to pay Jesper the credit of letting him look at you and realize what an impact he’s had on you. Judging by the self satisfied smirk you can just see out of the corner of your eye, however, Jesper knows too much for his own good.

“That’s a perfectly admirable sentiment,” you say, partly to fill the silence that seems to be pressing in at every nook and cranny of your suddenly bared heart and partly to make Jesper stop smiling at you like that, for the Saints’ sake, “but it isn’t reasonable. There’s no way you could possibly shoot every single conman or crook in Ketterdam. You’d run out of bullets.”

Jesper dismisses this worry with a wave of his hand. The low light of the Crow Club shines on his many rings, guiding your gaze slowly but surely from the all too fascinating corner of the table where it had been earlier and back towards him again.

“I’ll take extra bullets from the corpses. I’d never run out.”

“Morbid,” you reproach.

“Clever,” Jesper argues.

“Unusual,” you amend, and that does well enough by the two of you.

Jesper glances around the club, then conspiratorially leans forward, as if he’s including you in a secret the rest of the world could only ever hope to know.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is low, scarcely carried to you over the gentle raucous of bets won and lost echoing in the background of the club. There’s an argument two tables over that makes more sense then what’s going on. The man getting escorted out of the doors for drunkenness has no idea what it’s like to have his head spin the way yours is right now. You’re more intoxicated than he could ever dream, all because Jesper is looking at you like he’d never see anyone else if he could help it.

You nod, unable to form a word.

Jesper smiles and continues on. “I don’t actually mind it when you steal my clothes. I like to give you a hard time because it’s fun to watch you try to defend yourself. In fact,” he says, reaching out a hand to fix the errant flap of your coat collar, “I think you look better in them than I could ever hope to.”

“What’s so fun about teasing me, then?” You ask. Anything to cover up the spike in your pulse as you turn his words over and over again in your head. He’s saying something that both of you have been alluding to for quite some time. You and Jesper have been dancing around a certain unspoken truth for weeks, perhaps even longer, neither of you willing to commit long enough to set it in stone.

Ketterdam is made of crooks, after all, beggars and borrowers and charlatans. This is no place for something as unguarded as a heart to give up to someone you need, someone you love. If you were to feel something for Jesper Fahey, you had best hide it before he realizes, before he uses you as a guarantee in a job gone south like anyone else. This is not a city for lovers, it is a city for killers, and as long as you like your heart more whole and less bloody, you had better throw up your walls before Jesper finds a way to tear them down.

It is too late for that, of course. It has been too late for too long. Jesper knows it, but you think you’re going to be alright on that front. For one thing, you have a feeling that he harbors the exact same affections for you as you do for him.

Jesper’s grin lets you know soon enough. “I like spending time with you,” he explains easily, “Saints, I like you. Never thought you’d need me to say it out loud, though.”

“Maybe I like hearing it anyway,” you say as casually as you can.

The flash in Jesper’s eyes is electric. “I’ll just have to say it more often, then,” he declares.

You’re unable to hide your smile any longer. “I think that sounds good to me.”

It sounds good to Jesper as well, and soon enough he’s downing the last of his drink. He stands, offering a hand to you. You take it without thinking– when have you not, by the way– and let him lead you to the door.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers. You’re halfway over the threshold and wondering how far you would go for him, how much you would lose. Do the consequences really matter when you think about all the heights you would reach, the riches you would gain? The answer is no, spoken in the pleased sort of laugh Jesper always manages to drag out of you.

So you let Jesper pull you out into the darkened street. The cobblestone streets roll on endlessly before you, the streetlights flash by ceaselessly as you walk. There is no end to the city, not tonight. This world is infinite for you and the boy by your side. You could spend the rest of your midnights chasing him down this rush, and you think just this once, you will.

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