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sexlapis · 21 days ago

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[◉°] … TOJI AND Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT (PART 5) … 899k views

꩜ : actor!toji x gn!reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 (they are actress!reader)

sfw for the most part, fluff, crack, peeping toms & perverts (toji deals w them <3), cute babies, use of y/n

⤷ the way tojiyn is just real at this point…

a/n: thank you so much for 3000 followers that is literally crazy! thank you all sm for enjoying and supporting my fanfics🩷🩷. as a gift u all get more actor toji. i just missed him <33

_____= your name

masterlists

from the actor![character] series:

actor!toji masterlist

actor!nanami & actress!yn being a couple

actor!levi & gn!reader being a couple

꩜ first clip

posted on toji’s (mostly inactive) instagram, a clip of you with a little baby no more than a year old standing on your lap. you make funny, expressive faces as she giggles and mumbles in an adorable, pure manner. the pinnacle of innocence.

“look at that! who’s that, baby?�� you ask the baby, referring to the person behind the camera.

you turn her around, making her look up. she points, her face beaming with a toothless smile.

“ahh!” she squeaks.

you giggle.“it’s toji!”

a huff is heard from behind the camera and a big hand comes and strokes the baby’s chubby cheeks. “hi princess.”

the clip ends there, but the reaction from the internet only begins.

@ynb11111gestfan

a baby??? wtf did i miss???!:!:!

@justalurkeracx0unt

YOU GUYS ADOPTED?????????

@gojosbl!ndfold

which one of you gave birth

@tojizbigfatbreederballzinmymouf

girldad toji? my biggest dreams have come true💕💕

⤷ @herbigdoeeyesss

YOUR NAME?????

it’s safe to say, everyone was confused about who this random baby was. so, you were the one to clear things up by posting a video on your story;

“i’m sorry for the confusion guys. yes, me and toji had a baby. toji had a very long labour and he worked so hard and gave birth to a little baby girl <3”

well, that cleared things up.

꩜ second clip

toji walks out of a elevator and is…carrying you in his arms. bridal style. with your bodyguards following close behind (not that you need bodyguards when toji is with you).

the man holding the camera asks toji, “why are you carrying them?”

instead, you respond with a shrug, “my feet hurt.”

toji doesn’t even react. he just walks down the corridor, carrying you like he does it every day.

꩜ third clip

shortly after you began filming for a minor role in a popular television series, there are rumours floating around of toji allegedly physically assaulting one of the members of staff on set.

of course, everyone has all kinds of theories of what happened, but many people are not surprised because, well…it’s toji. they are not shocked by this type of behaviour coming from him.

but then, all is revealed by TMZ in a short youtube video, being a oh so nosy individuals they are:

“we got leaked information about what happened on that set. apparently, the staff member had been secretly recording y/n in their caravan, even when they were getting dressed! disgusting, i know. it’s said that toji spotted them and ‘took’ matters into his own hands. and by that, i mean throwing hands. toji is now being accused of assault by said staff member. in my eyes,” the reporter throws his hands up, shrugging, “that freak got what was coming!”

after that, people are on toji’s side, praising him for what he did. but enough people believed his actions to be extreme and overly violent.

so he releases an apology for his actions in a video, in which it is very clear that he had just woken up and he was still in bed:

“hey everyone. i know just about everyone’s heard of what happened. i would just like everyone to know that…i don’t care,” he chuckles, “i really don’t give a shit. i would do it again if it had to. that piece of shit deserved what he got. i’m only sorry for not breaking his other arm.”

꩜ fourth clip

you and toji are on the red carpet in paris, being interviewed about an awards show and your time in the country.

“so, have you two seen any of the sights and attractions in paris?”

“uhhhmm, no not so much. we really wanted to but we’ve just been uhh, really, really-” you pause for a moment, a second too long as you look at toji, who is staring at you. even from this angle, toji is seen to be smirking and he winks at you.

you blink rapidly and turn back to the interviewer. “busy. yeah, we’ve been really busy.”

“that’s one way to put it.” toji chimes in.

a tojiyn truther favourite.

꩜ fifth clip

you and toji, wanting to raise money for charity, decided ti participate in the bake-off, a televised baking competition.

“okay!” you start, excited.

the excitement doesn’t last very long.

“what even is this [BLEEP]?”

“toji! don’t swear! they have to bleep that out!”

off you and toji go, baking in such a disorderly and chaotic fashion, even the other participants are looking at you sideways.

multiple bleeps are edited in due to toji’s creative language.

“phew!” you breathe out. “i think we’re making good time-”

“ten minutes left!” the host calls out.

“ten minutes!?” toji shouts.

“what? ten? we haven’t even started the buttercream yet! the cake hasn’t even cooled down! what!”

“move,” toji moves into your space, snatching the whisk and bowl of ingredients from you hands and begins stirring like an absolute mad man, “you cool off that [BLEEP] cake, i’ll make this! [BLEEP].”

you dash toward the window, plain cake in hand, and simply…stick the cake out of the window, hoping it will call down faster.

toji and you are stared at in complete and utter confusion.

after sloppily applying the buttercream to the cake, along with the toppings, you and toji are done just in time.

it is your time to present.

you and toji walk to the front, placing the cake in front of the hosts.

“hm,” the woman said, “presentation is messy.”

you and toji glance at each other.

they take a bite.

“oh,” the male judge hums, “not bad.”

“i think it’s quite tasty!” a judge with a british accent compliments. “well done to the both of you.

you and toji cheer silently and high five.

you both came in third place in that round.

go figure.

꩜ sixth clip

you and the cast members of “jujutsu kaisen” are at comic con for a fan Q&A. the place is packed full of fans!

“i…i have a ques-question for _____. I-” his voice cracks wildly and he clears his throat, causing a few giggles in the crowd.

he continues. “i-what-why-what-what do-how-” he sighs and covers his face with embarrassment.

a wave of laughter goes through the crowd, mocking the poor boy even further.

“it’s okay,” you coo to the fan, “i don’t bite.”

the audience laughs some more.

and the toji interrupts with his own comment of, “they sure do.”

you gasp. your head whips towards toji and the crowd erupts with laughter, whistles and hoots of teasing and encouragement.

the fan, now beet red, covers his face again. “oh my god.”

“great! toji look what you did!” you shout. “you broke him!”

a/n: new actor toji take it or leave it

#actor!toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x gender neutral reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff

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reythenerdypisces · 8 months ago

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things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 1: The Lightning Thief

All I could think of was that the teacher's must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. oh he was one of those guys

"I believe that was question 38 on your final exam..." He [Chiron] looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember question 38. once a teacher always a teacher

A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. We got a hint of dark Percy in book 1

I'd been afraid he [Luke] might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift... It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth. tell me again this boy did not have a crush on Luke

The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared - core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologise, but Annabeth and I were too busy cracking up. I love moments of them being able to just be kids

She [Annabeth] loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. I think the fandom forgets this too

Annabeth muttered to me, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" Percy is so smart and so good at thinking on his feet, I'm tired of the fandom treating him like he's dumb

I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. He's so sweet. Even if the host was Medusa

"I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me [Echidna]." As someone currently living in Australia, this cracked me up.

I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." "Why, thank you." I love Grover and Percy and their friendship, very under appreciated

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile. I resisted the urge to say, Yes you are. he's hilarious

A steely look of anger flared in my mother's eyes, and I thought, just maybe, I was leaving her in good hands after all. Her own. I also love Sally Jackson

that's all, I'll be back for sea of monsters :)

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo series #the lightning thief #rick riordan #perseus jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 9 months ago

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Mora makes Teyvat go round

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald x GN! Reader

Description: Ningguang and Pantalone are proud of being of Creator's good side. With power of mora and buisnesses, they will gain more strength, gaining even more favours from Creator to their nations.

Unfortunately, mora is low due to attacks on caravans.

But, this new possible partner, who wants to offer organise trades between nations, peak their interest.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Slight mutilation (non-descriptive). Dehumanisation (Reader called 'it'.

______

Mora is stability.

Mora is power.

Mora is respect.

People need mora to get food, clothes, houses. Everything.

People need mora to build shrines for Creator.

Ningguang and Pantalone use mora to give Creator respect and happiness.

______

Pantalone's eyes twitched.

Another ship was sailed, another caravan was attacked.

And nothing can be done about it.

Dottore tried. And look, where he is now? Went completely mad, tried to kill Creator, and now is locked in a cell.

It became another hit on Snezhnaya's reputation in the eyes of other nations.

And in the eyes of Creator.

Their Holiness, after Dirty Imposter disappeared, were wrecked with sorrow.

Each day, nations brought gifts to the ivory throne.

Each day, people were searching for an Imposter.

Both of these actions were focused on bringing back Creator's smile.

And both actions required mora.

Mora, that Snezhnaya start becoming low.

Pantalone breathe in.

The situation was bad.

Yes, he has enough mora to spoil Creator for the next hundreds of years.

Yet, in this situation, he needs more mora.

Much more.

Pantalone looked at the pile of open letters he had on his table. Offers, coming from different groups. Travelers, mercenary, wanderers.

All of them offered their help in moving goods from nation to nation.

All of them failed.

Pantalone took another unopened letter.

He read through it.

Another offer. And he has no other choice, except it.

__________

Ningguang read through the contract one more time. It was written on a fancy paper with an ornament around the edges. Pantalone, who was sitting next to her, read through his own contract.

Pantalone spoke, looking at possible businesses partner above glasses.

"I must say, Mister Fitzgerald, it's quite an interesting offer."

Blonde businessman smiles politely.

Pantalone cast an interested gaze on the gems, that were laying in the middle of the table.

Gems looked stunning. They looked almost perfect, they varied in sizes.

"Are you sure, that you could transport all the goods safely? You are aware of the situation, right?"

Fitzgerald took one of the gems.

"Mister Pantalone, Miss Ningguang, I assure you, My Team and I are more than capable of doing it. As you can see."

Fitzgerald pointed at the gems. "We have this gems here. From Fontaine. And we did a great job transporting them."

Pantalone and Ningguang looked at each other. Everyone said that. Everyone failed. Ningguang and Pantalone don't have any other choice.

Ningguang spoke.

"True. Let's try to do it. We spent a lot of mora on the Imposter Hunt. All these rewards and mercenaries."

Pantalone chuckled.

"But it was worth it. I even got a precious relic from it."

There were envy in Ningguang's eyes. She also has a little souvenir from the Hunt. Yet, in comparison to Pantalone's, her trophy was simpler.

"Anyway, It's a deal, Mr Fitzgerald."

Both contracts were signed.

Francis broke a tree trunk, when he left Liyue.

Pantalone lost a lot of jewelry because of it.

_______

The first trade was from Liyue to Mondstadt.

If someone saw a new trade caravan, they would think, that they have gone mad.

First, instead of a horse or ox, a white tiger was (somehow) harnessed to the cart. Atsushi chuffed from time to time, but did his job perfectly.

Fitzgerald was walking beside white tiger, looking around. He spoke out loud.

"Look, Weretiger boy, a dangerous monster."

Francis points at the hydro slime, that was more interested in berries, then caravan.

Meanwhile, Francis activated his ability.

"This beast can be defeated only with 100000000 mora punch. Mister Pantalone and Miss Ningguang were so generous, agreeing to give away all their mora, all their possessions to us, right?"

Atsushi scoffed.

Fitzgerald's punch left just a few hydro droplets from the slime.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, in one of Pantalone's safes, 100000000 disappeared.

"We are saved... Oh, no! Another one!" theatrically gasped Fitzgerald, pointing at lizard, that was staring at the cart.

"This one is more deadly! I must double the effort!"

When the caravan arrived at Mondstadt (Atsushi turned back before someone could notice his tiger form), Ningguang's and Pantalone's safes became more spacious. And Teyvat wildlife get some damage.

______

Fitzgerald's plan was risky, to tell the truth. According to you and books Jouno and others have brought from Teyvat, there was only one language in Teyvat. At least, the only official language. There was no information, if other languages existed. But Francis decided to take this risk.

With some help from Poe, Natsume, Rimbaud and Fyodor, Fitzgerald created an 'ornament'. A synthetic language, that was made from mix of English, French and Russian alphabet and grammar. With Poe's writing, new words looked like an ornament.

The ornament, that proclaims, that person, who sigh the contract, will give away all their money and possessions to Fitzgerald.

And he has a nice little ability to use with new finance help.

_________

Francis stared at what was before him.

He proved, that he can be trusted. And, his businesses 'partners' show them, what their trophy's from the Imposter Hunt were.

_____

Ningguang had four bloodied canines....

****

Dirty Sinner were put in stocks in the middle of Liyue's Harbor. It looked half dead.

It wasn't enough. Tommorow it will be executed. It still have too much dignity.

Rocks, dirt, rotten fruits, manure...

Everything were thrown in Imposter.

It wasn't enough.

Ningguang stare at Imposter.

Its mouth were in blisters.

Its teeth were intact...

A dagger and her fingers weren't the best instruments for a dental practice.

But, Ningguang managed.

*****

And Pantalone had two pinkie fingers in the jar....

*****

It screamed, when its injured feet made contact with snow. Pantalone grinned.

He got a great trophy.

First one, who did it.

Soon, Imposter will lose even more.

Acolytes needs mementos from their great victory.

_______

Fitzgerald saw the mountains of gifts. Gifts for that beast, who ordered to hunt after his treasure.

And he, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, must be the one, who delivered it.

Francis can't stay here. In Teyvat.

He needs some real world.

He hopped, that he would reached Lowecraft 'waiting' place, before the sunrise.

_______

Fitzgerald stumbled from the portal, back to their world. He wasn't looking, where he was going. He needs to see you. To make sure, that you aren't in pain.

"What have you learned about, Fitzgerald?" Yosano's voice was sympathetic.

Francis looked at her. She was waiting for his answer.

She was the only one, who knew everything about your injuries.

Before that night, Fitzgerald only knew about burns.

He finally found his voice.

"Teeth... Toes..."

His voice was muffled, when Yosano hugged him, pressing his face to her shoulder.

She let him cry.

________

Pantalone was happy. Fitzgerald did a great job. Trades between nations slowly start anew.

Slowly, mire mora will come to Snezhnaya and his vault. And he will spend it to make Creator happy.

Suddenly, his mansion starts shaking.

The next moment, Pantalone was sitting on the Shezhnaya's snow. His home was nowhere in sight.

_______

In Guyun Stone Forest some of the stone spears, that Morax threw during Archon War, collapsed. Fitzgerald was sure, that crystalfly was a dangerous predator.

________

Ningguang grabbed the table, trying to stay on her feet. She was having a conversation with other Qixing, discussing, what other things they could trade with other nations, to use new mora on gifts for Creator, when half of the pillars in Guyun Stone Forest collapsed. Before anyone could react, a second earthquake came, destroying the rest of the stone pillars.

Outside, people of Liyue saw, how Jade chamber disappeared right before the earthquake.

______

Fitzgerald saw a second crystalfly.

______

Both Ningguang and Pantalone have a headache.

They have lost their houses. And, somehow, almost all mora they owned. There were no sighs of treasure horders or weasel thieves. Both Ningguang and Pantalone knew, how to be careful with spending mora.

Yet, both now have one thousand mora each.

The knock on the door made Pantalone and Ningguang turned their heads towards the exit.

Baisi noticeably flinched. She looked terrified.

"We finished looking through taxes declarations... And..."

Baisi put the documents on the table and left.

In a few moments, two loud shouts were heard.

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN, THAT HALF OF TEYVAT POPULATION BECAME BROKE?!"

______

Spa was quiet. Spa was good.

And this spa was completely yours and Fitzgerald's for today.

Fitzgerald announced, earlier today, that you two will have a self-care day. And 'drag' you here.

You had some sweets prepared for you.p

"Now, try this, Treasure" Fitzgerald put a sweet roll right to your lips. You took a generous bite.

Francis secretly smiles.

All your teeth were intact.

He cast a quick glance to your feet.

Currently, you two enjoyed foot massage.

Francis smiles. Your pinkies were here.

He squeezed your hand.

And promised to himself, to keep you safe and sound. And make sure, that no one will even think about taking something from you as a trophy.

____

Bonus

You raise an eyebrow, looking at all the mora Mark, Steinbeck, Dazai, Anglo, Fyodor and Sigma brought in the house.

You took one of the coins. It glimmered in daylight.

Without looking away from the coin, you asked.

"Okay, I will ask. How?"

Twain looked pleased with himself.

"We rob one of the banks, that belonged to that one, in glasses."

Steinbeck added.

"Fitzgerald won't be the only one, who could rob Mr Pants."

Dazai looked extremely proud.

"Ango and I are scumming people. We put some fake donation boxes. People are glad to spare some mora."

Ango, who was counting mora coins, spoke carefully. He was looking at you, observing your reaction.

"We tell everyone, that this mora will be used for a new shrine."

You didn't need an effort to not flinch. You spent enough time with Hawthorne to stop flinching every time the topic of religion came up.

Fyodor spoke next.

"And Sigma and I created a casino. Cards, some machines with toys for kids. Some prizes are unique and appealing to many. And almost impossible to win. But, as you know, everyone wants to play again."

Sigma shrugged.

"The prizes for everyone were my idea."

You dropped the coin back to the pile. Your mouth moved, before you can think.

"It reminds me of an anecdote. Want to hear it? A funny short story?"

Everyone immediately perked up. They took it as a sign of your recovery. It was good, that you start recalling something funny.

"Okay, [Y/N], we are ready for the story!" Naomi pretend to be impatient.

Well, there is no going back. You cleared your throat and started.

"One day, American man, Japanese man and Russian man decided to have a competition and see, who will make cat eat mustard by its own violation. American man immediately grabbed a jar and force mustard down cat's throat."

"Hey, that's violence!" Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

A Japanese man spread mustard between two pieces of fish and wrapped it in bacon.

“Hey, that's a hoax!” Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

“Well, your turn!” Japanese man and the American man grin.

Russian man, without thinking twice, takes the jar and smears mustard under the cat’s tail. It, of course, immediately starts to lick mustard, trying to get it off. Cat licks and licks, even though she is yowling.

“Do you see that?!” - Russian man rejoices “Voluntarily and with a song!”

"You have an interesting taste in jokes, Myshonok." corners of Fyodor lips slightly raised up. On the background, Nikolai and Pushkin were howling with laughter.

Actually, everyone was at least smirking. Even Natsume look a little bit amused.

Francis scoffed.

He was making sure, that Ningguang and Pantalone will rot in slums.

And, it was a good thing, that no one would be able to help them.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau impostor au #imposter au #Self-Aware Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald #francis scott key fitzgerald x reader #bsd fitzgerald

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secret-third-thing · 23 days ago

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For Day 7 - AU of @officialfeysandweek

Rated T | Feysand | Read on AO3 (or under the cut) Warnings: Major character death, starvation, angst

Even at the end of this world, Rhysand is there.

Special thanks to @popjunkie42, @tunaababee, @chunkypossum, and @acourtofladydeath for beta-ing waaaaay back in Feb/March.

Feyre would die soon. The thought had finally crossed her mind a month ago as she caught sight of herself in the chilly bathwater. The water rippled with her movement, but she could still make out the sharp angles of her face, the dark circles under her eyes.

Tucked away in a remote, run-down cabin in the woods, Feyre was hungry and alone. Her family had been here not so long ago. They all had left their manor in the nearby town before the soldiers marched through to meet the oncoming fae warriors. Her sisters had gathered as much food as possible while Feyre led her limping father to the abandoned shack. For many days after, whenever Feyre searched the woods for rabbits to eat, she could see plumes of smoke rising over the village like grim, swirling ghosts unable to rest.

Today, she had woken up tangled in her warm nest of blankets and pelts. Her hands had been tucked beneath her chin, shoulders to her ears. The fireplace had long since gone cold, a blanket of ash where the last of the wood had been. She’d need some kindling to start the fire again for breakfast.

She stretched and rubbed the sore muscles of her shoulders. These days, Feyre was always sore, always having some nagging ache that reminded her that she was slowly fading away. Her stomach growled.

Feyre was lucky only to have herself to feed. Six weeks ago, she sent her sisters and father on the last caravan to the continent. With only three spots left in the wagon, her father had insisted she go in his stead. But Feyre was stubborn and had stayed, choosing to wait until the bitter cold or the invading fae had claimed her.

Feyre rummaged through the kitchen area, finding procuring jars and wrappings crammed into the cabinets. She discovered the last of her jerky, far less than she remembered having, and some bones for a broth. This wasn’t enough. She searched the cabinets one more time, sorting through each jar carefully in case she missed something. She rubbed her temple, remembering some dried rabbit, but maybe she had eaten it. These days, her memory seemed to be fading along with her.

Sunlight peeked in from under the window curtains, and Feyre pulled it back, munching on the remaining jerky. It was clear out, a rare sunny day. It wasn’t warm enough to melt the snow, but it would keep her warmer when she ventured out today. If the woods were still too dense, she could try her luck in the village. Perhaps the looters hadn’t managed to strip it bare yet.

After starting the fire once more and heating snow in the iron pot her family had left behind, Feyre took a bite of her jerky and ran her fingers along the edge of the table where she had painted foxgloves many weeks ago. The oil colors had been a gift from her sisters. Elain had brought it with them when they had escaped to the woods and had hidden it in her dresser drawer to give it to Feyre for her birthday. But when she learned that Feyre was not coming with them, Elain brought it out for her then.

Feyre had cried that final night together as she painted the dresser they had shared when they first moved in. Nesta, her oldest sister, had complained that the single bedroom now stunk of paint, but Feyre had caught her tracing the swirling flames on her drawer more than once before she left.

But now, Feyre was alone, and to stave off hunger, she had painted every inch of the cabin. She had started with the rickety oak dining table and then moved to the stones of the fireplace, then the cabinets, the wall. She would paint until her eyes were heavy and then start over again the next day. Time began to blur, and Feyre would wake up covered in warm blankets that she didn’t remember crawling into with paintings she only barely remembered painting- a field in spring, a vast blue ocean, a rainbow city, the night sky, and the twinkling stars. Feyre attributed the gaps in her memory to the lack of food. She rationed what little she had every day. It was never enough, and her stomach would protest by nightfall. But she painted. The eyes of her family. A fox in a flower bed. Giant sweeping wings stretching from one wall to the next.

Now, only the black and white paints remained. As she waited for the water to boil, Feyre continued her final piece: a portrait of herself in grayscale—what she remembered of herself, at least. Even without a mirror, she could tell how frail she had become, the bones of her wrists and hands now prominent. She imagined she looked wild, like she had crawled out of the woods a feral creature and holed herself away for the winter.

Feyre picked up the brush and swept it across the wall before her. Her knees ached as she knelt. Hair was easy; she could see it in her mind’s eye. But her freckles? The speckles in her eyes? She couldn’t remember those details. When she closed her eyes, she could envision her reflection in her late mother’s floor-length mirror. But whatever she painted would be an approximation. Maybe one day, when someone found her body, rotting and withered away, they would realize that she was the girl in the portrait. Her memory would live on in someone’s mind even if she never had known them. The thought brought her comfort.

Breakfast came and went, and Feyre’s stomach still complained, so once the sun had finally climbed the sky, she donned her too-big boots and woolen cloak. At least she would be warm. Grabbing her bow and the few arrows she had crafted a week ago, Feyre set out to see what she could find. If she could survive the winter, she’d be fine. But it was still early in the season, and she was already out of food.

Warm to the bone, Feyre stepped into the cold. Her breath clouded in the frigid air, and the winter nipped at her face. She rubbed her skin with her mittens, pulled the scarf her sister Elain had made over her nose, and headed to the village.

Even under the crisp snow, the evidence of the war was still present. As she approached, the trees turned dark, burnt by fire. The air still held a heavy tang of magic that tasted bitter against her tongue. Homes had crumbled in the attack, and the closer she got to the center of town, the more damage she saw. Broken arrows and weapons, damaged armor, bones. Would the homes of the wealthier families still be standing?

Feyre crossed through the center of town on high alert. The smell of fresh corpses tickled her nose as her eyes swept over the blood-streaked ground. There had been a recent skirmish here. She stuck to the walls, running between ruined buildings and hiding in the dark alleyways. Her heart was loud in her ears, and she feared that one of the immortal soldiers would hear her. There were fae fighting on both sides, some wanting to continue the enslavement of humans and others fighting for their rights. She hadn’t learned to tell the difference and didn’t want to take her chances.

When Feyre arrived back at the cabin, the sour feeling of defeat settled heavy in her stomach. She kicked off her soaked boots and hung her coat on a nail she had hammered into the wall. There was no way around the matter. She could try again tomorrow and the day after, but eventually, she’d become too weak to go out, and then all she’d do was tend the fire until her body gave out. This would be the first of her final days. Shame burned in her. A part of her had hoped that something would have changed.

She wiped the tears in her eyes away and changed into dry clothes. Her portrait watched her. That woman was her and yet not her. Portrait-Feyre smiled brightly, joyous and content. She was well-fed and spent her days painting and laughing with her family. She had found a place to belong. Real-Feyre longed to trade places with her other self, but magic wouldn’t save her now. She started the fire once more and tucked herself under the blankets for a nap. With no more paint, there was nothing to do but wait.

Time passed, and Feyre found nothing when she went to hunt. She grew weaker and more tired until the most she could do was burn what she had left to stay warm. And then she’d fall back into the abyss of sleep.

Upon waking, Feyre didn’t immediately notice the man standing in the cabin's living area. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stilled when she saw him. He was tall, with warm brown skin and hair as dark as night. He stood before the portrait, clad in unfamiliar black leathers. Feyre pushed herself up, looking for her knife, and the man turned around and met her gaze with sparkling violet eyes.

He was beautiful. More handsome than any man she had seen before. Her breath hitched as they took each other in. She wondered when he had come inside, how she hadn’t heard the door unlatch, or the hinges squeak as it swung open. And then she realized he wasn’t human. Not with that silence or those eyes.

“You’re fae,” she said, blood running cold. He smiled.

“I am.” His voice was silk against her senses.

He was taller and stronger. He could overpower her easily, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She sought out her hunting knife. It was still on the table. She was determined to get at least one good slice in before he ripped her head from her body.

“Are you here to kill me?” Feyre asked. The man - the fae, didn’t answer and turned back to the portrait she had painted. The joyous thing she had created from the remaining paints.

“This is new,” he said, stroking her portrait’s cheek. Feyre swore she could feel the ghost of a touch on her face. She placed a hand on her cheek, and nothing was there.

“Yes,” she said. Feyre let out a sigh. Maybe he wasn’t here to kill her after all. Or perhaps he liked to toy with his victims. He turned back to her.

“My name is Rhysand,” he said. “I’m not here to kill you.”

Feyre almost believed him. But his posture was too casual, and he was covered in warring leathers. He had no weapons that she could see on him, though she wasn’t so naive to think he wasn’t armed. Fae were armed by nature of being immortal, cruel beings. And there was one in her home.

Rhysand pulled out one of the two chairs at the table and sat on it, laying his hands on the surface near her knife. Feyre watched him with curiosity. His movements were too graceful, too eerie, but she took the opportunity to climb out from under the blankets and approach him.

“Why are you here?” she asked. She took the chair opposite him and tried not to flush under his intense stare. His name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Had her sisters mentioned him before?

“I’ve been watching you,” he said. “For some time now. Your family is gone.”

“They left for the continent months ago.” she offered. “It was my choice to stay.” She swallowed hard as Rhysand considered her. She should have been more concerned, but it felt like someone had put a blanket over her brain, muffling her urge to grab the dagger lying in front of her. His silence was uncomfortable.

“I’m going to die soon,” she said, not sure why she felt the need to tell him. She stared at her hands. Her fingers were thinner than she remembered. “There’s nothing left to eat. Nothing in the forest or…” She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say that. Maybe he would spare her? Or he would end her now, so the hunger didn’t wear her down until she perished, emaciated in the cold. That would be a kinder fate.

“Do you want to die?” he asked as though he could read her thoughts. Feyre looked back at the man, but he was now standing beside her, looking down into her eyes. She flinched, but he smelled of citrus and the sea, and it made her feel like she was somewhere else - somewhere less cold and less terrifying.

“No,” she breathed. She stood up to touch his cheek, and his eyes closed for a moment. Something in her chest stirred, not uncomfortable, just different. “I want to live,” she said. He took her hand in his own and held it there. His skin was warm against hers.

“The fae army will be here any moment now. They will slaughter everything in their way. Including you, Feyre,” he whispered. She trembled at his words, but he kept her hand there. “I can save you,” he said even more softly.

“How,” Feyre dared ask, fearing the answer would be her end. He said nothing. Feyre propped herself, ignoring the ache of her joints. It was far too late for her, and they both knew it.

“I wish I could take you to where I live. You’d be safer.”

“And where is that?” Feyre asked.

And then in her mind she saw a town, colorful and bright, with so many fae everywhere laughing, smiling. No one looked starved or sad or on the verge of death. She saw a giant river of vibrant blue, tall townhouses, art, then a view from above as though she was soaring above the rainbow city.

“Wait,” Feyre said, and she turned to the rainbow town she had painted on the wall weeks ago. It was the same as what she had just seen now. The same painted townhouses with pointed brown roofs and matching windows. “Have I seen this before?”

“Yes.” Rhysand’s voice was pained, shoulders sagging at the admission.

“I…” Feyre paused, her head aching. “Do I know you?”

“Yes. I’ve been here, day after day, keeping the worst of the fighting from you.”

“But why?” Feyre wrapped her arms around herself and turned away, bile rising in her throat. The gaps in her memories, the vibrant dreams she had turned into paints. Was this all from him?

“You found me when you were hunting one day. You brought me back and healed me,” he said, grasping her shoulder. Feyre pulled away from him.

“But you couldn’t be bothered to take me away from here?” she said, voice smaller than she had ever known.

“You wouldn’t let me, darling,” he said. His voice was so gentle it was painful for her. “Kicked me out of the cabin for it. You said I was too weak, and you were right.”

“Why can’t I remember it?” she spit out. “Did you erase my memories? Why did you take them?” Rhysand’s face had gone pale, and he reached out but hesitated to come closer.

“If the fae found you and knew you had aided me, they would have tortured you.”

“Wouldn’t they torture me anyway? Aren’t they on their way here right now?”

“Yes,” Rhysand said. “And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I came to warn you. To offer another option.” Rhysand didn’t offer an explanation. He didn’t need to. Feyre looked him over, the man - the fae - before her. It didn’t matter if she trusted him or not. He was her only option.

“Fine, but I want you to tell me everything,” she said. And somehow, she knew Rhysand could not deny her.

Feyre brought him before the fire, and he sat there, telling her the story of his home, of his friends and family. He dove into her mind and showed her the Courts, the endless seasons, the brilliance of the dawn and the day, and finally, how the stars twinkled and fell across the sky once a year, souls traveling to the next life.

“Will I become a star too?” she asked him after he had finished. She had laid down in his lap. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Yes, Feyre,” he whispered.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see this world one last time before I’m gone.”

“I suppose so.” Rhysand ran a hand through her hair. It was gentle, like a lover’s caress. She wondered, as sleep drew near if this had happened before. If Rhysand had held her just like this. And finally, the gaps in her memory filled themselves in: Her dragging him into the cabin and nursing him back to health. The paintings on the walls. The shared meals. Fingers laced together. Rhysand’s smile. The laughter. The joy. That Feyre had existed.

“I’m glad,” Feyre said once she remembered. “That I wasn’t alone. That I’m not alone now.”

“Me too,” Rhysand whispered. The fire crackled, warming them to the bone.

Feyre closed her eyes and let herself drift to sleep in his arms, darkness overtaking her senses. She dreamed of him once more - the two of them in that beautiful town, surrounded by friends and laughing. They danced under the falling stars.

She felt something touch her mind, as soft and tender as a kiss. She welcomed the feeling, and then the world ended.

🔖 Tag List: @climbthemountain2020, @chunkypossum, @acourtofladydeath, @pippsmcgee, @queercontrarian, @cauldronblssd , @andrigyn , @afandomangel , @berryzxx , @rosesncarnations @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @books-books-books4ever , @tsunami-of-tears , @whisperingmidnights

This is not my usual fare, haha! Feel free to suggest what to tackle in my next sad fic < 3k.

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #stt writing #it took all my self restraint not to write this thing from scratch #but i will do my past self justice by posting what she had written #even if im a better writer now #feysandweek2024

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wh0re43van · 9 months ago

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Maneater- (Jimmy Darling X Reader)

Summary: it’s your first week at the freakshow as a sword swallower and fire eater. Almost everyone has taken an immediate liking to you, especially Jimmy. (Literally only wrote this because I want to deep throat Jimmy)

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda public

Word count: 2.3k

I sit on the edge of the wooden stage in the main tent as I clean my swords. the small amount of afternoon sun leaks in through the openings of the red and white canopy, bringing the blistering Florida heat with it. I absentmindedly wipe the sweat on my brow with the same rag I’m sanitizing the sleek metal with, then immediately break into a fit of coughs as the fumes from the rubbing alcohol choke me out.

‘This heat is melting my brain’ I think to myself as I catch my breath as best I can in the hot sticky air. You’d think as a fire breather I’d be used to it, but this August haze is brutal.

Being from New England originally, this suffocating humidity is a far cry from what I consider comfortable, but a gig is a gig. Elsa was more than pleased to hire me when I pulled up with a unique act and my own caravan last week. I’ve worked with a lot of carnies in my day, but the group here is truly one of a kind. Almost everyone took an immediate liking to me. Ethel did her best to make me my favorite dessert as a welcome gift, Desiree insisted on taking me shopping, and Eve has let me sleep in her caravan with her for the week since mine isn’t yet hooked up to electric or water.

“Not even a dog should have to sleep in this heat without a fan,” Eve insisted. All the women have quickly become my closest friends, except for-

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Maggie’s shrill voice cuts through the thick air with ease as she stomps into the tent.

“What are you on about now?” I roll my eyes as I set my swords to the side, walking down the rickety wooden steps that creak under my weight.

Maggie has given me shit since the first time she saw Jimmy flirting with me, which was about 30 seconds after my arrival. Her and Jimmy seemed to have some sort of relationship which he assured was “purely casual”, but Maggie doesn’t seem to agree.

“You have Jimmy out there in this heat wave crawling around messing with your stupid trailer! He could have a heat stroke,” the ‘psychic’ scolds me. I step up to the mousy bitch, adjusting my bathing suit top and brushing the dust off my denim shorts.

“He volunteered to do that for me, so mind your own fucking business… Ya know, in all the carnivals I’ve worked at, I never met a medium that couldn’t take a fuckin hint,” I say lowly, glaring at her. Her face goes red with anger.

“I don’t see how Elsa could hire such an ill-mannered hussy. You surely aren’t doing any favors for the reputation of the show,” I can tell that she’s trying to remain composed, but her voice comes out a shrill whine.

“This hussy earned over 500 bucks in the first four days I was here,” I remind her, laughing at how stupid her attempt at a come back was. Maggie tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I’m surprised you even charge money for your act since you prance around here with your tits out shoving shit down your throat for free,” she small lady growls, motioning to my bathing suit top for emphasis.

‘Damn’ I’m a bit shocked by this statement and it shows on my face, but I scoff before pulling the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

“Why don’t we ask Jimmy-“ I begin, but I’m cut off by Jimmy himself.

“Ask me what?” he smiles as he takes a gulp of water out of the glass in his hand. The energy in the room immediately shift as both of us turn to look at him, plastering fake smiles on our faces as we adjust our outfits and hair.

“Ask you, uhm, how you always manage to get such a crowd when you work the carousel. It must be all the girls wanting a ride with you,” I let out a nervous giggle, nudging the bitch to my side. She nods and laughs unconvincingly. At least we can agree on how embarrassing it would for Jimmy to hear us bickering over him like schoolgirls. Luckily, he seems none the wiser to the cat fight that he just accidentally broke up.

Jimmy chuckles as he walks up to us, leaning against the base of the stage. I don’t make any effort to hide my lingering scan of his body. His worn-out blue jeans and white tank top that’s clinging to his toned chest with sweat is covered in the orange dust of Florida’s crust. The veins in his arms are prominent on his slick sun kissed skin that’s dotted with smears of what appear to be grease.

“You’d see me blushing if my face wasn’t sunburnt as all hell,” Jimmy flashes his dimples as he runs his conjoined fingers through his sweat drenched curls. “I’m glad you’re here Maggie, Elsa’s lookin’ for ya,” he informs the blonde. She seems to be happy just to get the smallest bit of attention from the boy.

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you come to my caravan in a little bit. I have a surprise for you,” she says to Jimmy, but her eyes are locked on me, unfortunately for her, Jimmy’s eyes are also locked on me.

“Uh sure Doll, go on now. Don’t leave Elsa waitin’,” the boy says, eyeing me up and down with a grin as he motions his head towards the exit. Maggie smirks at me as if this is some kind of feat before walking out of the tent.

“So,” I smile as I boost myself up on the stage, dangling my feet over the side. “What can I do for you?” I bat my lashes at the sweaty boy.

“I need your pretty hands for one last thing and then you should have electricity,” Jimmy hums, then motions to my swords on the stage. “But if you’re trying to rehearse,” he walks over to the first row of collapsible wooden chairs, taking a seat. “I’ll take my payment in the form of a private show” he leans back, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. I smile mischievously, standing up and grabbing the three dull swords.

“Well That’s not fair to you,” I tisk as the metal clanks in my hands in. “I’m not even in costume,” I smirk as I pace to the center of the stage.

“Oh trust me doll, this little number you have on right here compliments you just as well as that corset and stockings you dance around in,” he smirks as his drift from my legs to my face, earning a grin from me.

“Well I’m not gonna argue with that,” I laugh before clearing my throat, starting my monologue.

I tun through the first half of my 15 minute routine, Jimmys attention glued to me the entire time. He watches intently as I easily drop two swords down my esophagus, and twist them around before pulling them out one by one. My epiglottis burns as the metal slides through the small opening. I wipe the spit from my mouth, taking a bow as Jimmys applause bounces off the canvas walls.

“Thank You,” I giggle, my voice comes out a bit hoarse as I kneel down by my torches and lamp oil, then I notice I don’t have water to wet my rag. “Gentleman in the front row, could I borrow that glass of water,” I grin, using my ‘show voice’. He happily hops up, bring the glass to the stage. I crawl over to the edge, then sit up on my knees so that my face is even with his. “Thank you, sir,” I grin, holding Jimmys gaze as I take the cup from his hands, brushing my fingers over his.

“I’m honored to be involved in the act,” he breaths as he reaches out, running a thumb over my lip. I grin before licking a strip up the digit, making his eyes go wide.

“If You really want to be a special guest, come join me back stage,” I hum, leaning forward as I take his other hand in mine, tugging him a bit. Without a moments hesitation Jimmy hoists himself up on the stage and pulls me just behind the curtain before he crashes his lips into mine, pinning me to the wall

“You don’t know the things ya do to me, baby,” Jimmy pants against my lips as his hands grab at my body desperately. I giggle into the rough kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I hum as I reach between us, running my hand over his obvious errciton. Jimmy moans, bucking his hips towards the contact.

“Can ya blame me?” He chuckles lowly before moving his mouth to my neck, leaving wet kisses over my sweaty skin. “It ain’t often that I get attention from a dime like you,” he chuckles lowly against my skin as his large hands grab my ass.

“I guess todays your lucky day then,” I giggle as I turn Jimmy around, pushing his back into the wall. “I just want to thank you for working on my caravan for me,” I purr as I slowly drop down to my knees. His eyes watch intently as I pop open his belt buckle. Jimmy swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth hangs agape.

“It’s my pleasure, honestly doll. You don’t have to do this-” Jimmy protests weakly as he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. His breath hitches when I abruptly yank his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, his heavy cock springing out of its confines.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I smile before licking a strip from base to tip, Jimmy sighs at the contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I bat my lashes at him as he looks down at me, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “Plus id rather practice on you then those other swords anyway,” I smirk before taking him into my mouth.

He throws his head back, a low growl bubbling from his throat in satisfaction. Jimmy looks down at me with a slack jaw as he watches me take all of him in my throat until my nose is flush with the small patch of hair around his base. His hand finds its way to the back of my head as I begin bobbing up and down on him.

“Just like that, Doll… holy shit,” Jimmy hisses as his face contorts in pleasure. I giggle to myself as I wrap my arms around his legs, allowing him thrust into my face.

My knees dig into the unfinished wood of the stage- sure to leave splinters- as Jimmy violates my throat. His chest starts to heave as he finds his rhythm, filling the tent with low moans and my gagging.

I look at Jimmy through blurry, tear stained vision and I swear I could cum right now. His eyes are screwed shut as his mouth hangs open, letting out the unholiest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His strong arms, shiny with sweat, are flexed so hard that I can see veins popping out of them as he holds onto my hair like his life depends on it.

As Jimmy is lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around him, I hear shuffling in the side entrance of the tent. I’m about to pull away when I hear Maggie’s whiny voice.

“Jimmy are you still-“ she asks before she freezes, her face goes pale as her jaw drops. The boy doesn’t doesn’t even realize that he’s cutting her off when he moans,

“Jesus Christ baby, I’ve never seen someone look so pretty while gagging on cock,” his voice is breathy and low, but Maggie definitely heard because seconds later she shrieks before running out of the tent. “What was that?” Jimmy asks, slowing his hips, he looks down at me with glazed eyes, as if he’s in another dimension. I pull Away, gasping for breath as I take his slick cock into my hand, breaking the thick strings of spit.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I giggle, still trying to catch my breath as I slide my hand over his length. “I just want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Can you do that for me?” I hum as I place his tip between my lips, licking lightly. Jimmys eyes flutter as he groans, watching me rub him over my lips.

“Jesus Christ,” is all he manages to groan before he’s thrusting back into my mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax. Jimmy is a cursing, sweaty mess as his cock twitches on my tongue before shooting his sticky release down my throat. I moan at the sensation as he pulls out, falling limp against the wall. “Come here,” he pants out, barely audible as he grabs me up off the floor, pulling me into a wet sloppy kiss. I grin against his lips as hands move to the buttons on my shorts.

“Uh uh,” i tisk as i slap his hands away. He looks at me confused. “This was my payment to you,” I smile as I fix my outfit.

“And Im more than grateful,” he chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “But id like to return the favor, doll,” he smirks as he reaches out to try to pull my into his arm. I step the side before turning to leave.

“Oh you don’t have time Jimmy. I think Maggie’s looking for you,” I smirk before giving him a peck on the cheek. I can feel his gaze burning into my back I was down the rickety steps and out of the tent.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #jimmy darling smut #ahs cult #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs fandom #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs murder house #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling

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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year ago

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Time After Time | Chapter Ten

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Madam Despoina gives you a little more insight, as well as a significant gift.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 10: Curses

This tired old machine is a-rumbling (oh my, oh my). Singing songs to the secrets behind my eyes (oh my, oh my). All my aching bones are trembling, and I may yet fall apart. Won’t you stay with me, my darling, when the war starts in my heart? Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust. The devil’s after both of us. Oh, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of me. — Curses, The Crane Wives

“His name was Dimitris.”

You frowned at Madam Despoina’s first words to you after she entered the caravan.

“May I sit?”

Instead of replying, Tommy moved to grab the chair against the wall and sat it next to the fireplace, offering his hand to assist her down.

The old woman thanked him as she sat, lifting her head back to you. Her worn voice was solemn, tired even, as she went on.

“Dimitris joined my camp some odd years ago, having traveled from the old country. For most of his time with us, he was a good man — hard worker, good soldier, did what he was told. Recently, he became more aggressive. First it was with the women, then fighting amongst the men. When I discovered that he’d been selling information and stealing… well, I displayed a lapse in judgment with my punishment. He was banished, with a threat of death if he returned. Apparently, he still has friends in the camp. They informed him of your arrival, of your importance. I believe he snuck in during the bustle of preparation—”

“He escorted us into the camp,” Tommy pointed out, interrupting. “He escorted us to your wagon.”

The Madam’s face remained unchanged, her eyes not leaving yours while addressing Tommy.

“A breech that I am investigating with serious severity, Mr. Shelby, I assure you.”

“He dead?” His question made your gaze move from her to him, causing you to inhale sharply.

What the hell had your life become where conversations about gypsy fortune telling and gangster murders had become just another Sunday night?

Tommy’s eyes flicked to yours before returning to the Madam’s. For an insecure moment, you wondered if he considered you weak for your reaction.

“When we find him, he will be.”

The woman’s reply felt like cold water as you realized the creep was still out there. Her eyes softened as she held on to your gaze.

“I apologize, mikrí mou màntissa. This was not what I envisioned for our meeting.”

You swallowed the irony, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “May I ask — what did he want from you?”

You took a deep breath before shrugging. You had no idea how long ago the event had occurred, could have been an hour or ten, either way you just wanted to push it as far from your brain as possible. It didn’t help that you were on the tail end of your buzz — that and the adrenaline (and your newfound ability to disassociate and compartmentalize) made the memory feel fuzzy.

“Um, well,” you began, speaking for the first time since the Madam entered the caravan. “Originally he thought I was Anastasia Romanov,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you said it.

Tommy’s brow creased, “Who?”

You missed the way Madam Despoina watched you answer his question.

“The Romanovs? The Russian royal family that was just killed like—” you paused as your brain tried to do the quick math. “Holy shit that was just this year,” you muttered to yourself, though the other two in the room could certainly hear you.

“We heard somethin’ about that in France. A revolution, ya?” Tommy pondered, reaching into his jacket pocket on the hanger to grab a cigarette while shrugging — as if hearing one of the biggest historical events ever was just no big deal. “Who was she, exactly?”

Realization of just how disconnected you were from the rest of the world began to set in. You’d been here for more than three months, and the only real news you’d been privy to had been the war end. And that was only because Ada had shoved the newspaper in your face.

You made a mental note to start saving enough to purchase newspapers when you got back into the city. If you were going to be here, you wanted to know what was going on.

“She was a daughter of the tsar,” the Madam answered for you. “A princess. When the family was taken to be executed, it was rumored that the princess escaped.”

You nodded, “Creep-o said he thought that’s who was coming to the camp when Madam Despoina said they had special company.”

The Madam hummed her understanding. “We’ve often had queens and princesses come to bargain for good fortune. Dimitris thought you were the princess.”

“He said he knew I wasn’t Russian though due to my accent. I may have implied with my tone that he was an idiot for believing the rumor… he didn’t like that.” You grew angry at the memory of him grabbing you, instinctively wrapping your own arms around yourself. “Still, he said that you thought I was someone important. That he could use me somehow to make him money.”

Somehow was beginning to feel a lot like selling as you said the words out loud. The words sat bitterly at the tip of your tongue as your anger began to bubble.

“What did he think he was going to get away with, huh? Kidnapping me and holding me hostage? Handcuffing me to a table and forcing me to give seances? The nerve—“ you fumed as you grew lost in your own imagination. “What psychopath thinks he can do that? I can’t even tell fucking fortunes! I’m not important! I can’t—“

The tears surprised you as your anger began to catch in your throat. This was the second time today you’d began to cry out of frustration, exhaustion, everything. And you hated yourself even more for it.

You felt weak again.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to control your breathing, and suddenly you felt two hands cradling your face. Expecting to see Madam Despoina, who’d been sitting closer to you, you were surprised when you opened your eyes to see it was Tommy who was kneeling in front of you, his own face inches from yours.

You felt ashamed again for your weakness, dropping your eyes and trying to push him away. But he held on to you and forced you to look at him again. You prepared to see disappointment or pity in his eyes, but instead you saw the same reassurance that you’d almost come to rely on in the depth of his crystal blues.

“That won’t ever happen,” he said confidently. “You’re not a doll, remember? And you are strong. If the Delphi don’t find this fucker, the Peaky Blinders will. Either way, you’ll never see him again, you understand me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, the tears no longer falling as he wiped what remained off your cheeks.

“I have a second reason for coming by,” Madam Despoina’s words broke the spell between you and Tommy, who stood up and resumed his original position between you two women and the doorway. She reached inside her baggy skirt pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, extending it to you. “I wanted to offer you this gift.”

Your brow furrowed as you took it.

In the Madam’s hands, it appeared to be an ordinary box. But when you ran your fingers across the edges and held it toward the light of the fireplace, you could just make out the intricate carvings. It reminded you of the inside of this caravan. On the lid of the box was the Delphi symbol — you couldn’t help the way your pointer finger moved from the trunk of the tree upward, through the branches and down one side of the circle, across the roots, and up the other side until you completed the path.

“It’s beautiful,” you couldn’t help but breathe out as you finally lifted the lid. Your brow furrowed again as you examined a pouch of leaves and small vile of water inside.

Madam nodded. “Boil some water and let the leaves soak, then pour in the water from the vile before drinking the entire cup.”

“Tea? You want me to make tea?” You looked between her and the box. “Um, why?”

She smiled. “My gift. It’s one final conversation with your mother.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, the words falling out absentmindedly, “What? You’ve got to be joking.” You looked down at the box suspiciously. “What is this then, drugs?”

“These are passed from our ancestry, they’re very valuable and once designated cannot be transferred to another. The water is from the original springs of Delphi, the leaves are from the gardens of the temple.”

“The leaves that gave the priestesses epilepsies?” you questioned, raising your brow as your suspicions were confirmed. “You want to drug me and pretend like whatever hallucination I might get is some divine vision from my dead mother?”

The woman gave you a smile, “You still disbelieve, don’t you, young girl?”

You set the box down on the bed next to you and shook your head. “I mean no disrespect, Madam Despoina—“

The old woman lifted swiftly from her seat and reached for your hand. Out of surprise and instinct, thinking she must have fallen, you jumped off the bed and squeezed her hand, matching her firm grip with your own.

The room flashed white. The Madam before you was all you could see, but as your eyes adjusted, your vision began to shift.

Her face — it began to change. You recognized the woman’s face, something ancient and beautiful, with eyes that glowed that brilliant gold you’d seen in your dreams. Another flash, and the face began to morph into so many faces, one after the other. Hundreds of women, all unrecognizable and yet something familiar pulled at your gut.

Suddenly the shifting stopped as you saw your mother’s face. You gasped, taking a step forward before your mothers face morphed again. This time, your foot moved backwards as you looked upon your own reflection.

Snapping your hand out of the old woman’s hold, your vision cleared. You were catching your breath as you found the familiar brown eyes of Madam Despoina, the caravan surrounding you again, a knowing smile pulling at her cheek.

Your eyes found Tommy’s, who had taken a few cautious steps toward you both and was looking at you concerned. “You okay?”

“I saw— I, I thought I saw—“ you breathed out, your eyes moving back to the Madam as you held your hand to your chest.

“Drink the tea. Talk with your mother. She will be able to tell you now what she could never before.”

She turned to leave before stopping. When she turned back to you, she reached out for your hand again. You flinched at her touch, expecting the same thing to happen again, but nothing did.

“During these winter times, our camp retreats back to our home ground to prepare for the cold. We drink and dine as is tradition during these darker and colder months until it is time to travel again. But this year I knew we had to wait — that we were waiting for you.”

She squeezed your hand as she held yours between both of hers.

“Today I have felt closer to our god than I have in many years. I had nearly forgotten what his light felt like, but with you, I can feel his warmth again. Won’t you stay?”

“We can’t,” Tommy answered for you, his voice stern. “We promised we’d be back ‘fore Christmas Eve.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that was a lie. Tommy had already told you he’d prepared for you both to be gone for as long as a week’s time. But you didn’t dare question him now.

Besides, you felt as though her question wasn’t just a courtesy to stay tonight, or even for a few days. The question felt like an invitation — to stay with the Delphi family.

For a split moment, you considered her offer. You were already a time traveling fish out of water, and you’d bet money that she knew more than what she’d even revealed tonight. Maybe you were here to find them — maybe this is where you were meant to be.

But your eyes instinctively looked to Tommy at the thought, and your chest tightened.

Maybe it was a mistake, but that stupid part of your brain or hormones or whatever it was controlling you couldn’t leave Birmingham.

The Shelbys.

Tommy.

Madam Despoina hummed an understanding, her eyes watching your internal struggle. “Then you should leave now. There are some here who are under investigation of helping Dimitris, and it may not be as safe as I’d have wished for you here.” Her eyes dropped in shame.

“If you thought we may be in danger, why would you ask for me to stay?”

“I’m an old woman, mikrí mou màntissa.” She repeated the foreign words again, and her soft smile made you sense they were a term of endearment. “Sometimes I’m more selfish than I’m proud of. I will see you again someday, Cassandra. Until then, remember what I told you —“

“Stay true to myself.”

“Aye. You will feel like you can’t use your second sight for fear of alteration, or alienation. But it will be your asset in the times to come. And it can save those around you, if you let it.”

She looked to Tommy then, whose brow creased at the conversation.

The Madam smirked. “Our god is closer to you than you think.” Her attention moved back to you. “Listen to your mother. Break the cursed chain.”

She turned again to leave.

“Wait,” you stepped forward as she paused. “Why are you giving me this now? You told me before that it wasn’t the time. What’s changed?”

Madam Despoina let out a humored hum. “You’re not the only one who gets visions, love.” At the doorway, she stopped and turned to Tommy. “Remember what I told you as well, Apollon.”

With that, she left the caravan.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath. “We’re leaving. We’re gettin’ in our wagon and gettin’ the fuck out of this nut house.”

He began to get dressed, throwing on his gun holster over his shoulders before putting on his jacket.

Your brain was processing the name Madam had called Tommy. “She called you—“

“Get dressed,” he instructed, ignoring you and handing you the bag and your shoes before grabbing the rest of his clothes.

You pulled out one of the clean skirts and pulled it over your nightgown. You grabbed your jacket and threw it around you before shoving your feet into your shoes. Stuffing the rest of your items in your bag, you gingerly picked up the box Madam Despoina had given you and set it on top before latching it closed.

Tommy returned, offering you his hand to lead you out of the caravan and through the dark, clutching the bag close to your chest. The wagon came into view, Johnny Dogs hustling to secure Midnight.

“Tommy, she called you—“

He shushed you, his eyes flashing down at you before making a quick scan around you both. “Not now.”

You huffed. “Never now.”

“Soon,” he reassured, giving your hand a squeeze before jumping in the back of the wagon while Johnny appeared at your side. “All clear?”

“Aye, Tom,” Dogs replied. His usual jovial vibe was gone tonight, serious as he addressed his friend.

“Good. Up ya come,” Tommy offered you his hand as he stood in the wagon.

Your brow furrowed, expecting to sit with him in the drivers seat like you had earlier.

“There’s a bed in here, and some blankets. It’s the middle of the night and you’ve had a long day. You already fell asleep once today, I don’t need you fallin’ over on the drive back.”

Your instinct was to fight back, prove him wrong. Before you could reply, he squatted closer to you.

“I won’t have you sitting like a fuckin’ target in case we run into trouble on the road. I don’t expect it, but I’m a cautious man, ‘member? Get in the wagon, and let me keep you safe.”

“She called you Apollo,” you whispered, looking between his eyes.

It felt like you were standing in a room with thousands of puzzle pieces, and every time you thought you’d found a connection, thought you’d gotten a handle on the full picture, a new piece would pop up and throw you off your track again. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind.

He softened his look, grabbing your hand and lifting you into the wagon. You let him walk you toward the front before gently pushing you down onto the small mattress pad. “Rest. Once we’re safe, you can explain to me why.”

You swallowed as he stood back up and climbed through the front flap of the wagon and sat on the bench. Johnny Dogs wished you a small farewell and you gave him a sympathetic smile before he secured the back of the wagon.

Despite everything that’d happened to you tonight, you’d enjoyed the man’s company and hopped to see him again. If Tommy allowed.

You could see Tommy settling in his seat from your spot, grateful for the secured tarp on the side your head rested against to cut the cool night air as the wagon began to move forward.

The wheel hit a bump, causing your bag to jump against your leg. You picked it up and secured it against you, not wanting anything to happen to the box inside.

The box filled with the magic drugs, that is.

What were the chances that the leaves and water in that box were actually from the Temple of Apollo in Greece? Was it old? New? There’s no way something like that could have survived all this time, and there was definitely no way that if it had, someone would just hand it over to a complete stranger for nothing.

And the flashes that you saw — was it the drinks you had tonight? You had a hard time believing that the woman you just left would have you drugged without your knowledge — but the cynical side of you, the cautious side as Tommy might say, couldn’t exclude the possibility entirely.

No, you shook your head, trying to reason your way out of that thought. Why would a woman who already had you drugged offer you more drugs and tell you what they were? If she’d done it once, what was stopping her from doing it again without your knowledge? She could have made the tea herself and fed it to you easily at any point during the night. But instead she gave it to you in pieces, as a gift, and told you exactly what it was (more or less - you still weren’t entirely convinced).

So if you weren’t drugged, then you had to have just been ole fashioned drunk.

You shook your head at yourself again, getting more comfortable on the mattress until you were laying down, the wagon wheels continuing to move along underneath you.

Nothing like that had ever happened to you after a night of drinking before. And there were definitely nights you’d been way drunker than you had been tonight.

The only time you’d seen visions like that before, with the white flash and everything, was the night you traveled back and saw Tommy in the mud.

But why Tommy? was the last question you asked yourself before your eyes began to drift closed and you wrapped the blanket around yourself.

And why did Madam Despoina call him Apollo?

——

“Cassandra.”

Your god reached out to you, his once ice blue eyes had now returned to their brilliant gold, his look was full of concern.

“You just said—“ your breath was short at the previous feeling of dread as you grasped at the front of your dress to steady your heart.

He cupped your face with his hand, “I said that I didn’t expect to fall for you, Cassandra.”

No, you thought. There was rage, there was anger. He said he cursed you… didn’t he?

But as you looked up at him now, the face you saw was the same face you’d been gazing upon night after night. You hadn’t intended to fall for the palace gardener. The first night you’d come out here was the day you pledged your allegiance to priesthood. You’d sought solace, a place to sit with your thoughts to ensure that you were making the right decision.

The gardener had surprised you, his voice soft and kind as he asked if you were okay. After that, you’d come to rely on the man as a confidant. Eventually, you were spending most of your day awaiting the hours until you could see his sweet face again.

But now, everything was different. He wasn’t a man at all — he was a god. He was your god, confessing his affection for you.

And yet still, you touched your lips at the memory of his cold blue eyes, his angry words, his curse.

His brow creased as you pulled your face away, turning back to the garden ledge as you looked out to the sea. Your eyes focused on the horizon line, where you saw ships sailing toward your kingdom. Thousands of ships - an armada. They were racing forward, growing closer and closer to the shoreline, launching hundreds of arrows into the air.

“We’re under attack!”

You turned back toward your lord and pointed, but he only shook his head. “There’s nothing out there.”

Whipping your head back toward the sea, your eyes searched for the sight of the ships, but they were gone. The seas were calm once again.

“But—“

An explosion caught your attention, pulling your gaze back down toward the square of the city. It was on fire — people were screaming, children crying. Men in foreign armor raced through the streets on horses, swinging swords and axes, killing your citizens.

You blinked — they were gone.

‘You’re cursed, Cassandra! You’re cursed!—‘

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the shout, turning to find Harry standing at the end of the bar with his arms crossed.

“I don’t pay ya to daydream. We’ve got a packed ‘ouse now snap out of it.”

“Sorry, Harry.” You flushed at your absent mindedness, picking up the rag and moving to give the counter a good swipe before heading toward the first man with his arm reached forward.

But through the monotony of the job, your mind couldn’t help but wonder back toward your dream in the wagon.

Tommy had woken you up the same as he had on the drive to the camp. Clinging to his arms, you found yourself gasping for air and your cheeks damp from tears. Embarrassed once again for waking up in a panic, you began to wonder if you’d ever have a normal night’s sleep ever again.

Despite the nightmare, you’d somehow managed to sleep through most of the drive back into town. You rode up front for the remaining drive back while Tommy hit you with the realities of going back into society.

“There’s something we need to discuss before we get back to Small Heath,” Tommy had started in his serious voice. “Only Polly knows where we truly went yesterday. Arthur, John, and Ada know a version of the truth — they know we were lookin’ for a gypsy clan that might have had some of your last surviving family members, but we’re gonna tell ‘em we were unsuccessful in our journey. That they were supposed to be outside the fairground, but they were nowhere to be found, so we came back and you decided to give up the search. Got it?”

You had nodded. “And Polly? What are we going to tell her?”

“That’s up to you,” he surprised you with that response. “But one thing I want to make clear. That we saw Johnny Dogs and what was discussed with him will be told to no one, ya?”

“Can I ask why?” You threw the question out as a tester — it wasn’t a no to his confirmation, but you were curious if he’d shut you down or trust you.

Tommy didn’t respond right away, staring straight ahead at Midnight pulling the wagon forward. You swallowed, ready to admit defeat, when Tommy cleared his throat.

“Most of what we do is illegal. To make any real money, to gain any real power, we need to expand into some legitimacy. It’s the only way to break out of Birmingham.”

“And Billy Kimber has something to do with that?”

Slowly, Tommy nodded. “Think so. Still working out the details, but it starts with Johnny Dogs. That’s all I’m willin’ to say now.”

You thought about the words exchanged between the two men, about what Tommy said on Saturday about domination. You wondered if his ambition extended further than just working with the racetrack owner, or if he wanted to control it.

Tommy didn’t seem like a man who limited his ambitions.

“Got it. Not a word, then.”

You paused, contemplating what you were going to say next and deciding to just go with it. What the hell, right?

“I still think you should look into running alcohol into America. The probability of a prohibition is higher than you’re estimating.”

“Thought you said you weren’t a fortune teller,” Tommy rose his brow up as he looked at you. Beneath you, the dirt roads had transitioned into cobblestone, indicating an end to your ride.

You’d shrugged, “I’m not. I’m just a woman on your payroll, who sometimes knows things, offering you business advice.”

Tommy watched you for a moment more, but chose not to push you on it further. Neither of you said anything as he made his way to your doorstep. You’d mentioned wanting to change and then head over to the Garrison, hopping to mend the nagging feeling you had of Harry being angry with you and offering to work a shift that evening.

“I’ll see you later then,” Tommy had said as you turned to leave, watching as you clung to your bag and ascended the stairs.

To his promise, Tommy walked through the doors of the Garrison some odd hours later, an entourage of men behind him. Harry hustled to shoo people out of the snug before escorting the men into the private room.

This had been a part of the deal Tommy had made with Harry, apparently. The Garrison was not only protected by the Peaky Blinders, but now it was officially the pub of choice for the gang. That meant that any time a Peaky boy was in the premises, the snug had to be available. It also meant that anything a Shelby man ordered was on the house, no questions asked.

Tommy still dropped a coin at the snug window when he asked for a bottle of whiskey and six tumblers.

“Irish or Scotch?” You asked, a smirk playing at your lips as you watched him attempt to stop his own smile.

Without his response, you grabbed the Irish Whiskey and glasses, circling the bar and turning into the private room. Tommy was taking his seat as the men around him grabbed for the cups, Arthur electing to grab the bottle and open it. He poured himself a shot first, then Tommy, then John, before passing it to the other three in the room.

You vaguely recognized the three non-brothers from the betting shop, and part of you wondered if any of them were the book men you audited as you began to wipe down the table.

Arthur was patting John on the shoulder, sounding already drunk as he went on about the boy finally getting out of that house. You took a quick look at John, who looked tired as he mumbled something about the kids driving him mad.

You smiled at that, silently wondering if John being out meant that Martha was starting to feel better. You made a note to ask Tommy about her later as you asked aloud if anyone needed anything else.

“That’ll be all, Y/N,” Tommy answered for everyone.

You gave a friendly smile, eyes scanning the room before landing on one of the non-brothers, who was watching you quite intently. As a barmaid, you were either invisible or the subject of lustful attention, so a part of you was used to the creepy looks and just bid your time until the man either hit on you or lost interest. Not expecting this kind of attention here, with Tommy around, you felt caught off guard. Awkwardly, you nodded and left the room, leaving the doors open behind you.

Some time passed as you worked the room, the crowd slowly beginning to lessen as the night went on. You were working on the pub books, taking advantage of the lull, when the man who’d been watching you from the snug approached the bar.

“You’re Ada’s friend, ya?”

You couldn’t stop the quick look through the snug window, noticing that the other Peaky boys were still in there, working on their second bottle. “Um, yeah,” you answered, offering him a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Need something?”

“Ya, a mild.”

Trying to control your annoyed face at having to pause your book work — seriously, there was no way you could ever leave Harry in charge of the books ever again — you rose from your seat to prepare his drink. You could feel him watch you as you worked.

“I’ve seen ya round the Shelby house with Ada and Ms. Polly. I work there, with the boys. Names Benji.”

Benji — you recognized the name as one of the bookkeepers at the betting shop. He was one you’d been suspicious of for a while now.

The first couple big offenders of stealing from the shop had disappeared some time after you brought them to Polly’s attention. At the time, your innocent mind believed they’d just been fired and moved on — but now you knew better. The chances that those men were still breathing were slim.

With Benji’s records, his error rate decreased after the first few men were outed, and you always suspected that he was biding his time before he began to steal again. You just had to wait until you had more evidence.

For a paranoid moment, as Benji’s eyes scanned you over, you wondered if he knew about your secret employment. He was a Peaky boy, after all. He lifted his hand over the bar counter as an offering when you set his drink down.

“Y/N,” you offered out of ceremony, your smile still not quite genuine as you shook his hand.

“Y/N,” he repeated, donning his own smile as he looked at you again appreciatively. He wasn’t unhandsome, so you imagine that smile worked on most girls. But after what happened to you last night and your suspicions about his bookkeeping, you felt yourself taking a step back out of caution. “Next time you’re in the shop, say hi.”

You watched as he took his drink and swaggered back into the snug. Part of you was slightly surprised at his boldness. You were a friend of Ada’s — his employer’s sister. Plus, you and Tommy—

You scoffed at yourself. You and Tommy what? You weren’t a couple — you didn’t think so, anyway. He hadn’t gone to kiss you, or even offer to walk you to your apartment door when he’d dropped you off. What’d happened last night before Madam Despoina interrupted had been… hormones. A mixture of adrenaline, alcohol, and an attempt to grasp onto some kind of sanity after a series of crazed events.

He hadn’t spoken of the moment since — hell, he hadn’t spoken of any of it since, something that was also making you anxious.

Out of instinct, your eyes moved to the window of the snug where you could see Tommy sitting comfortably in his chair. As if feeling your gaze, his own eyes moved to meet yours. You jumped slightly, feeling as if you’d been caught, and proceeded to go back to checking on the other patrons in the room.

You’d settled back to working on the inventory, almost finished when the Peaky boys loudly made their exit of the pub. Surprised, Arthur shouted a drunken goodbye to you, even using your name as he waved and stumbled out the doorway with his arm around John. Benji turned and gave you a wink before following the group out the door. Tommy stood back, watching the whole thing before walking over to the counter.

“What was that about?” He asked, gesturing over his shoulder to the doorway.

“What? Arthur saying goodbye? Not sure, but it’s a big improvement over him calling me a whore or just grunting at me—“

“Not Arthur, Hancock.”

Your brow creased. “Who?”

“Benji,” he added, and you realized Hancock must be his last name. Tommy poured the last of the bottle into his drink.

You stood up from your seat again and walked over toward Tommy, taking a scan of the room. There were only two young men in the corner finishing up their last round, but you still kept your voice low. “Who knows about me?”

It was Tommy’s turn to furrow his brow. “‘Dya mean?”

“My job, at the house.”

Tommy nodded, understanding. “Just immediate family — me, Pol, Arthur, John, and Ada.”

“And before you guys returned?”

He shrugged, “Just Pol and Ada, I believe. What’s this about?”

“I was just paranoid, I guess. I thought for a moment Benji may have suspected me, but now I think he was just coming on to me.”

Tommy’s back straightened at your comment, lifting his glass for another drink. “And is that somethin’ that you want?”

“No,” you answered immediately, watching his shoulders immediately relax.

“Good,” he said softly, his eyes moving down to your lips. “Let me walk you home?”

You smiled at both his response and his request, wondering if maybe you were wrong about what exactly you and Tommy were.

“I can’t go until those two leave,” you said quietly as you gestured to the corner.

As if realizing for the first time that the two of you weren’t alone, he turned to the other guests. “Oi! Time to go!”

The young men jumped from their seats and scattered out the door. You couldn’t hold in your surprise at the immediate obedience.

It’s good to be the king, you found yourself quoting Mel Brooks in your head at the action, not yet confident enough to say your quip out loud. The thought still made you smile though, and you were again surprised when Tommy offered you a smile in return. You knew how rare a Tommy smile was.

“Fine, but I still have to put the book away and sweep the floors. Harry mentioned something about putting in an ad for another barmaid — I’m not about to further piss him off and have him replace me.”

Tommy scoffed. “I’ve seen the receipts, you practically saved this business. He’d be a fool to replace you.”

Your pride swelled at the compliment as you lowered your head to hide your blush.

Luckily, it’d been a rather tame night, so your cleanup was minimum, allowing you and Tommy to leave soon after everything was put in order.

Tommy lit a cigarette as you locked the door, wrapping his coat around you tightly and cursing to yourself how right he’d been about it getting colder.

“Come to dinner tomorrow,” he said, breaking the silence on your walk. It didn’t sound like a question, but his gaze down toward you implied that he was waiting for a response.

“To your house?” You asked, curious if this was just a regular dinner or a date dinner.

He nodded. “Aye, Christmas Eve dinner with the family. Ada made me promise to ask.”

You deflated slightly at his follow-up. Was Ada’s insistence because Tommy didn’t actually want you there? God, listen to you — sounding like a pathetic teenager again overanalyzing everything your crush said.

“Okay,” you said instead.

“Good.”

He stopped and faced you when you got to your apartment. Gently, he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, pulling your face upward until your lips met his. It was a soft kiss, but it still left you breathless as he pulled away.

“After dinner, when everyone’s distracted, we’ll talk, ya? About the dreams, about what Madam Despoina said, and about why when I was waking you up this afternoon you kept saying that you were cursed.”

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year ago

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The Odyssey | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Moodboard | Recommended Listening

Synopsis: Bradley keeps a close eye on the other students, nightly dinners become a regular occurrence. Malcolm feels further away than ever. A phone call in the middle of the night causes a swift change in plans.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity. 18+ minors dni

…

Bradley wakes up with the sun. All of those West Coast mornings and thin, green floral curtains in his grandmother’s house. The sun spilling through them and alerting him to the Chordettes playing downstairs on grainy vinyl. That meant his mother was cleaning. Lemon-scented disinfectant, her sitting on her knees polishing the hardwood with a rag. The effortless warmth of her voice drifting through the walls.

He exhales. Sunlight seeps through his eyelids but there’s no Chordettes album today. No lemon scent. Just a dusty room and one of his students sleeping six feet away. His eyelids flutter, blinking through the early morning light. A slow turn of his neck allows him to check the clock on the nightstand and doesn’t affront the stiffness that these cheap mattresses give him either.

It’s early. About four hours before Luke would naturally rise, anyway. Bradley hits the alarm and pushes himself upright with a soft sigh. He doesn’t have to be quiet when he’s getting out of bed, that kid could sleep through a hurricane.

They have a lot in common. Lots of similarities in the way they were raised. Bradley likes him beyond just being his professor. In different circumstances, they would be friends. But, Bradley has always kept that line in the sand clear. Until now. Until you had kissed him.

Showered and dressed, Bradley’s up before most of Verona. The soles of his shoes are quiet against the cobble. Italian leather from almost a decade ago. A gift from an old friend that have held up well. The only dress shoes he’s got.

It’s bright out. Bright enough that Bradley’s squinting through his Ray-Ban caravans already, but it’s not too hot just yet. There’s a wind that makes the loose white of his button-up billow against his tanned skin, fighting to work free from being neatly tucked into his belt.

Enzo’s out on the steps by the time Bradley gets there, which means he is late. Teaching hasn’t ever been Bradley’s passion, but it makes way for him to study and — in theory — he gets his summers off. It allows him to write.

“Good morning.” Enzo greets him with a smile. Bradley’s not much for the business side of things — he would have better luck at counting the shades of blue in the sky than he would at figuring out schmoozing. Enzo knows this, and Bradley knows that he knows this. “How’s the book coming?”

“I’m not sure,” Bradley answers with a broad shrug. He tucks the gold frames of his sunglasses into the part of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’ll have it finished by the end of summer.”

Olive-skinned and about fifteen years Bradley’s senior, Enzo looks the part of a sleazy salesman even if he’s just a curator when his lips twist up into a smile. “Something’s got you a little distracted, hm?”

The straight ahead stare, the deep, slow breaths and the unwavering tight line that his lips are pressed into; Bradley’s reaction is easily readable — and Enzo’s close enough to get hit if he keeps it up. He knows that. Towing the line is his specialty.

“Just joking. Here, let’s go in.”

Three soft-sounding steps inside and Bradley’s back where he was this morning. Ten years old and laying on his back in the twin bed in the bedroom at the front of his grandmother’s house, smelling artificial lemon.

He turns his head just a little, his eyes lingering on the mop being pushed around the tile floor, as Enzo leads him further inside.

Being published is what professors dream of. Having someone decide that their little ramblings are interesting enough to publish. Bradley’s study focuses on two things that are inherently interesting to begin with — sex, and power.

His research may be tedious every now and again but the content is always rich. His morning spins by and before he knows it, it’s time to meet you again. You’re ready for him when he gets there, tugging open the door before he has knocked.

But, you don’t look excited to see him.

Cheeks flushed, your body language suggests to him that you would have a decent future as an offensive lineman. His gaze flickers up, over your head and into your seemingly innocent hotel room. Powerless as he scans the room, you just hope he can’t figure out what it is that has you so rattled.

You had aimed to finish before he had arrived but time had gotten away from you.

“So what are we doing today?” You try.

“What are you writing?” His eyes are already on it. The open stack of lined papers, torn out of the notebook already, sitting on the vanity by the wall. Your perfume is next to it and you’ve got the stationary set that your mother got you laid out neatly next to it.

“Nothing.”

He looks down. First, at your face. Wide eyes and baited breath. Then, at your hands suddenly resting against his chest like they’ll hold him in place. His lips twitch.

“Nothing?” He repeats to you. Enjoyment seeps through his words, amusement tugs at his lips and he lifts his right foot to take one step forwards. “Mind if I take a look?”

Instantly, your fingers are curling into his shirt and you’re throwing your weight at him to keep him where he is. Bradley huffs out a sound of amusement, passing you in one swift stride as you claw at his button up to slow him down.

“Don’t, Bradley, it’s stupid — I was just messing around. I don’t want you to read it.”

His fingers brush the top page as you plead with him, tugging at his sleeve, trying to change his mind. He lifts it nonetheless and shoots you a grin, making a show of clearing his throat.

“Dear Juliet,” He pronounces, turning his attention back to the page from you.

“Bradley, please don’t.” It’s not fun anymore. You’re quiet and resigned to him doing whatever he pleases. Embarrassment teems through you.

It’s a familiar kind of crushing feeling. It’s never just feeling small, it’s never that simple. It’s being made small. Every inch that you shrink, you’re squished down further until you’re nothing.

You can see it in his face, the exact moment that he reads his initials on the paper. It had seemed too personal to use his name. Back when this had seemed like a good idea at all.

He doesn’t read on. The paper sits still in his hand as he turns his head towards you. You stare back at him, preparing yourself. Tongue poised, ready to spit whatever venom he deserves after what he says next. Eyes wide, and sad.

“I’m sorry.”

He sets the paper back down as he had found it. It’s not his to discard, it wasn’t his to read. Bradley steps forwards and wraps his hands gently around both of your biceps.

“That wasn’t cool,” He tells you quietly. Bradley knows a couple of different languages, and he’s confident that he’s speaking English now, even if you’re staring at him like he isn’t. “I didn’t realize what it was. I was just trying to mess with you. I barely read any of it.”

Silent, you blink a few times. He’s still there with his big, heavy hands anchoring around your biceps. He’s waiting for you to say something back.

Slowly, your brows draw together. Your eyes flicker over every inch of his face, looking for some fault that will give up this little act.

Suddenly, your mind is made up. This is an act. He’s not sorry, men rarely are. You straighten your back and lift your chin, if you were a cat your claws would be out and ready. “You’re such an asshole.”

The clock beside your bed, the hands don’t move, and yet it feels like you can hear something ticking. Maybe your heartbeat. He’s staring back at you, not moving, but he’s going to have to soon — it’s his turn.

“I know, honey,” Bradley’s hands open and he releases your arms, only to open his and wrap you in them. Your face presses into his chest as he rubs a hand along the small of your back. “I didn’t mean to.”

You’ve received plenty of life lessons on what it means to be a woman. Your grandmother, your mother, your aunts and cousins, teachers and friends. Not one of them prepared you for this. In your scope, apologies come in the form of jewelry or luxury vacations.

No one had ever prepared you for a man to look into your eyes and tell you that he is truly sorry.

“I just wanted to put it on paper, get it out of my head,” You mumble into his shirt, inhaling the notes of wood and warm spice in his cologne. Your hand rests against his stomach now, unclenched. Your body is soft against his. You relax out of all of that tension and let him hold you. “Make some sense of it.”

His palm hugs the base of your skull, cradling you against his shoulder. His cheek rests against the top of your head. He gives you a slow nod.

“You should finish it.” Bradley tells you.

“Yeah. Maybe later.” You hum. It’s nice, to be held by him. He strokes a hand softly over your hair.

Within this city, within the walls of the first space that you have had to yourself in three weeks, in this brown hotel room — you have let yourself be his.

Tomorrow, you’ll move on to Venice. The decision is yours, to leave him and all of this insanity right here — forever between these four walls — or to let go.

Bradley’s thumb trails the nape of your neck. He can feel you deep in thought. Just once, he would like to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. “Could be our activity for today. Write it in Latin, think of it as a translation activity. I won’t check it.”

Lifting your head, you stare up at him, lips pursed in distaste. “If you don’t check it then what’s the point?”

“Confidence.” Bradley tells you. You feel his open palms trail your back until they hit your belt. Then, they skim around to rest safely on your waist. “The more you practice—“

“Yeah, yeah…” Both hands push against his chest as you wriggle out of his arms and turn. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Let’s sit outside. It’s a nice day.”

The eighth of June. The day you sat in a public garden opposite a fountain, laying on your front in the grass while Bradley sat in front of you, propped up against a tree. It turns out that when Bradley says he knows a place, it’s usually worth listening.

“What’s this place called?”

“Giusti Garden.” He tells you, working on something of his own in his lap.

“And what is it?” You ask him, trailing the end of your pencil through the dictionary. He looks up at you, his own pencil stilling for a second.

“A palace, originally.” Blinking through the lenses of his sunglasses, Bradley glances down at the page in front of him and back to your lips, pursed in concentration. “Pretty popular. Mozart, Gorthe, Ruskin— they’ve all visited this place.”

“Huh.” You hum.

This time when his gaze flickers up, you have moved. Your lips are parted, you tap the rubber at the end of your pencil against your bottom lip.

Mid-sentence and stuck, you turn your head towards him and he’s already looking at you. He read what was on that paper the first time. He reads hundreds of essays a year, he has mastered the art of clearing a page quickly.

Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten through the whole page, but he’d noticed that you had stopped halfway through a word at the bottom.

He read all about it. How confused you are. The new feelings and the difficult thoughts. Malcolm and how much he loves you. How guilty you are. How furious with yourself you are.

Selfishly, Bradley wonders if you’re writing the same thing now. All of those biting looks and harsh words — Bradley feels like he’s just starting to understand, and he likes the person behind it all.

He’s grown up enough to know that you’ve got enough people messing with your head back home. Whatever that letter helps you realize, Bradley has already decided that he isn’t going to say a word about it.

It’s still bright out by the time that your letter is signed and sealed, tucked into your bag. You straighten up, brushing off your front as Bradley collects his things behind you.

“Here.”

Lifting your head, you almost miss it. He watches your eyes land on the folded piece of paper extended towards you. Your lips quirk softly as you reach out and take it from him.

Breeze catches your hair, you comb it off of your forehead with one hand as you open up the paper with the other. Three different pencil sketches sit on the paper.

The largest is in the centre. It’s of your face and your shoulders, elbows propped up against the grass and your lips pouted slightly as you study the book before you. The lashes, the slight misshape of your polo collar, the tip of your nose. He’s got it down to a science.

The other two are just sketches. One of your face, turned to the side like it is in the drawing of you laying down. The last is of you looking at him, smiling. You don’t even remember what he had said. Neither does he. But he remembers that look.

“What’s this?”

Bradley just slips the pencil into the pocket of his jeans and starts walking, nudging his elbow into yours as he passes by. “You asked me to draw you, didn’t you?”

In truth, he assumes that it’s going to be a parting gift. Call him sentimental, but Bradley always leaves something to remember him by.

When he closes his eyes, he doesn’t remember his father’s face. He has seen it in pictures before, but never in memories. No, he remembers hugging his father’s legs, and sitting on his knee. He remembers the smell of tobacco.

The replacement dog tags. The gold chain. The shoes in the box in his mother’s wardrobe. The suit that Bradley never grew into — one day it was too big and the very next, he had already outgrown it. Those are what he has to piece together parts of his father.

When you’re old and married, maybe you’ll find the drawing and piece together the parts of Bradley that made you smile like that.

You trail behind him, white tennis shoes in the trimmed green grass. A white polo shirt tucked into lemon yellow shorts, your sunglasses sweeping your hair back off of your forehead.

In another life, he’d reach back and you would wrap your palm around his index finger. He would smile at you and you would be all kinds of giddy about this date.

But this isn’t that — it doesn’t work like that this time around. Someone could see you. Bradley knows now how you’re feeling. He knows that your fiancé is on your mind. He chose once, took Natasha’s choice in her own future from her. He won’t do the same to you.

“The dinner thing,” You call out from behind him, watching your shoes travel from grass to stone pavers as you pass by an intricately carved fountain. He turns his head and peers at you over the top of his sunglasses, looking over his shoulder. “Is that really every night?”

Before you’re even done with your question Bradley’s looking ahead once again, and you’re left looking at the plain white of his cotton tee stretched pliantly over the swell of his shoulders. “Until you all start treating each other with a little respect, I guess so.”

“All of us? — Come on, Bradley, don’t act like you don’t know who the problem is.” An incredulous scoff, barely paying attention to your own words as your eyes wander around the flowered garden. “She’s just a slut, and—“

He stops and turns. Your gaze snaps from double early tulips and their puffed yellow petals to Bradley standing before you — the look in his eyes is scolding before his mouth has even moved.

“Do you listen to a single thing that I say? — Seriously?” He asks you, brows drawn together and his lips pressed into a frown. You simply blink at him.

“What?”

“She’s a slut because she has sex with her boyfriend?” He challenges you, shaking his head. The past week, Bradley has been spoon-feeding you content about the sexual culture through the history of Rome. You nod like you understand and yet, you come out with bullshit like that.

He’s the one who challenged you. You simply answer back.

“She’s a slut because he’s not her boyfriend. They’ll both tell you that.” You tell him, defiance coursing through your veins in lieu of anything that might have helped you make a stronger argument.

“What does that make me? — You listen to my stories with a smile on your face. It’s not dirty until it’s someone you don’t like, huh?” Bradley asks. He’s right, you know that much. Bradley has indubitably slept with far more people than Robin possibly could have.

Still, maybe it’s his tone that makes you need to bite back so quickly. Hands on your hips and a scowl on your face, you stand off against him before the fountain. “What does it matter to you if I think she’s a slut?”

“It matters —“ Bradley stops and takes a deep breath. He leans in by three inches and you’re met with that familiar woody smell that just makes you want him even closer. “Use your brain. Whatever your mommy and daddy taught you back home is bullshit — you’re the odd one out.”

With that, he turns and starts away from you. He won’t leave you to walk home alone, but he will walk six paces ahead so that you’re clear with the fact that you have once again stepped on his nerves.

“I’m the odd one out for respecting my body?” You call out to him.

“Respecting it, ignoring it… same difference, right? — It’s your call, honey,” Bradley walks slowly closer until the toe of his sneaker brushes yours. He lowers his voice, calm. “But choosing not to have sex doesn’t make you better than Robin.”

“I’m not your honey.” You bite back.

“Right,” Bradley nods at you. He lifts his arms and drops them back against his sides incredulously. “But here we are.”

It’s an eleven minute walk back to the hotel. You stroll behind him, sullen like a scolded child. The letter feels heavy in your bag. He might not have called you a slut, but you’ve been put in your place nonetheless. The words would never pass your lips — but he’s right. The comparison’s right there in front of you, all around you. You’re living it.

She can’t be a slut for sleeping with one boy if you’re not for whatever you’ve got going on with Bradley.

You would hold it against her, crushing like a weight, if she told your story back to you. If she was the one with a fiancé at home and a professor who spent afternoons in her hotel room.

Still, your face is hot and you’re not ready to speak to him. Halfway across the herati patterned rug that covers most of the reception area, Bradley turns and looks at you as he tucks the arm of his sunglasses into the collar of his t-shirt.

Chin high and shoulders squared, your clear path is to walk right by him. Just as you always have when a man in your life has embarrassed you.

One step ahead, Bradley catches your wrist loosely, stopping you mid-stride. “Dinner’s in five. Remember?”

“I’m not going to dinner with you.” Your answer is simple and biting. Childish. He wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed your arms and stomped your foot.

“It’s not up for discussion. Everyone’s going.” Bradley explains. Right on time, he lifts his gaze and spots Pasquale headed towards the two of you from across the lobby. It’s not like he won’t have seen the two of you argue before.

He reaches you with a smile and stands at Bradley’s side. His bald head has caught the sun, reddened slightly with head. The smile lines beside his eyes always crease when he beams at Bradley. He stands almost an entire foot shorter. Looking up at him and grinning like a kid, even though he’s older than Bradley.

“Hi, guys!” He pats Bradley’s arm jovially and turns that wide, cheesy grin to you. “How is the revision going?”

Your eyes land on the professor and suddenly there’s something dark about them that has simply nothing to do with eye colour, and everything to do with the mood he put you in.

Pasquale lives in ignorant bliss for the two seconds that it takes you to settle your hands into the shallow pockets of your lemon shorts and narrow your eyes at the professor. “Bradley’s a self-righteous asshole.”

“But what else is new!” Pasquale tries. The laugh is forced out of him and nerves shake through it. He shoots Bradley an apologetic look. Bradley’s looking at you anyway.

“She got a C minus yesterday. Still trying to figure out if it was a fluke.” Bradley bites. Your eyes widen.

Sitting on his lap, wrapped in his arms as he told you how hard you had worked — how proud he was. His hand trailing your spine. His mouth soft against yours. Butterflies tearing through your stomach.

“I think I got too much sun today. I’m going to lie down. Enjoy dinner.” Fuck mandatory. Fuck every single student on this trip. Fuck this class, and fuck him in particular. Pasquale swallows softly as you turn on your heel and head for the stairs.

Bradley turns his chin towards the ceiling. He wants to like you, he wants you to like him. In the moments that you do, everything feels so easy. Like the breeze in early June. But when you’re hell bent on arguing with him — those are like those scorching hot summers back in California. Surrounding and heavy. Pressing in on him until he bites.

“A C… that’s not so bad. Right?” Pasquale asks quietly. Bradley turns his head and looks at him, there isn’t really an answer to give. A B is the average in his class, so no — a C really isn’t bad.

The thing about old Italian hotels is that they tend to be marketed towards guests looking to lead quiet lives — romantic getaways and such. Not young women fuelled by anger. The door slams and teaches you a quick lesson in cause and effect. The painting hung on the wall to the right of the bed wobbles in complaint, then bumps to the floor. The glass frame promptly shatters across the floor.

There’s an almost calm silence that follows. A few slow blinks, and the glass is still there. The frame is still shattered. There are pieces all across the floor. Bradley still said what he said.

The soles of your tennis shoes are thin and pliant, excellent for movement but not designed to fend off glass shards. Crossing the floor at that exact moment seems like far too much of a challenge. So, you press your back to the door and slide down it. Cupping your hands tight over your mouth, you clamp your eyes tightly shut and let it go.

The scream is muffled by your palms, but probably still enough to alarm other guests.

Your bag clatters haphazardly to the floor and you lift your face from your hands just long enough to examine the mess once again. Huffing out a sadder sound than you had intended, you push weakly to your feet once again.

Until today, Verona had been your favourite stop so far. Even with that spoiled, at least you have an en-suite here. You’re more careful with that door. You tug it closed and lock it behind you, toeing off each of your shoes as you go.

These old hotels have old water heaters too. You lean across to turn the shower on first and wriggle out of your shorts, dropping your polo onto the ground with them. Facing straight ahead, you stare into the little round mirror above the sink. It’s got molding all around it that was supposed to look gold once, but the peeling paint reveals brass underneath.

Your reflection stares back at you, sullen. It’s a portrait, just your head, shoulders and chest. Swallowing doesn’t make the thickness in your throat fade. You just blink at your reflection in the mirror. The cotton t-shirt bra hugged to your chest is modest and does it’s job — nothing more.

You’ve seen lingerie — you own lingerie. You have a white teddy with matching panties reserved especially for your wedding night. Bradley has most definitely seen lingerie.

A swift inhale is followed by a baited exhale.

The memory is so distinct, standing in a mall with your mother at the ripe age of twelve, watching her soured expression as she searched through the rack.

“Lace, lace, lace.” She had tutted. Back then, you had been more concerned about someone you knew seeing you here, shopping for your first bra. You hadn’t understood.

“Mom, just grab one. I want to go home. I don’t care what I wear.” You had whined, fidgeting on your feet and brushing awkwardly at the pleats of your dress. You’ll always remember the way that she had rounded on you, eyes wide like you had asked her to buy you a thong.

“Well you should, young lady!” Her voice always sounded scarier when you were younger, even though it had always been hushed and poised.

You have been a grown up for a while now. Lived outside of her home. Had your own bank account, car, clothes — and that voice still circles in your head.

The nightdress she had gotten you last Christmas is hanging on the back of the door. Malcolm hates it. He says it reminds him of his grandmother.

You look down at the thread scissors from your sewing kit resting on the shelf beside the sink. Anger has often led you to some of your best DIYs.

“So, we all have to be here… except not actually all of us.” Robin points out, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her striped t-shirt. Elbow resting on the table, Bradley turns his head to look at her.

“She’s sick, Robin, leave her alone.” Abigail mutters from beside her, pushing her fork around the plate of roasted vegetables.

“No, but I heard Bradley say mandatory. So, mandatory for everyone except—“

“Robin.” Bradley sighs, sitting back in his seat and frowning at her. The restaurant is dimly lit, almost ten of them are cramped around a table in the corner, and after your argument today, Bradley just doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to hear another damn word.”

This is what Bradley hates most about education. Half of the time a punishment for his students is more of a punishment for himself, which this dinner just so happens to be. He wants them to like you. He doesn’t want to hear the bitter comments and the arguing.

Everyone’s eager to get it wrapped up and over with. It’s still early by the time that he heads back to the hotel — everyone else decides to go out for drinks again, without you. Making the entire thing pointless.

The knock at your door startles you. You wince as the pin slips into the tip of your finger, inhaling sharply. Abandoning the project on the bed, you push yourself to your feet and walk over to the door. You already know who it is.

Bradley’s gaze flickers down at the sweat shorts and T-shirt you’re wearing first, then back up to your face.

“How was dinner?” You’re already turning away from him again, stepping onto the bed and tiptoeing back across the sheets. Bradley glances behind him, then steps inside and closes the door.

“Are you done sulking?” He rests his hands on the leather belt wrapped around his hips. Sewing needle in hand, you lift your head and stare, silent. “I’m allowed to disagree—“

“Fuck you,” This time, you don’t give him a chance to finish. You turn your head and continue to thread the new hem. “What you said was cruel and you know it, this isn’t about a disagreement.”

His gaze turns towards the ceiling, hands still sitting atop his belt.

“It was. I’m sorry.” He mutters with an exhale and a shake of his head. Bradley looks back at you finally. His brows draw together and he takes a step into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Hemming.” Your answer is short.

Briefly, Bradley presses his tongue into his cheek and considers just saying goodnight. Then, he notices exactly what it is that you’re working on.

“Did you cut that in half?” He’s already crossing the room and craning his neck to get a better look. Unluckily for him, you’re finished. He watches you look up at him through your lashes and lift the nightdress, then stand up from the bed. “Oh, you’re ignoring me now?”

The door to the bathroom swings shut behind you, the thin wood does nothing to muffle your voice. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Bradley’s attention has already waned. He’s looking at the paper on your nightstand. His drawing from earlier is uncurled and illuminated in the light of the lamp, below that is your address book — opened to a page with Malcolm’s name. Dotted around are little pink hearts, his number neatly written along the line.

“Are you snooping?”

Bradley flinches, turning back towards you with a swift inhale. He remains silent, lips parted as you march from the bathroom to the wood-framed mirror about three feet from where he’s standing.

Aware of his eyes on you, you study the new garment. It sits a few inches above your knee, just above mid-thigh. The sweetheart neckline keeps it sweet. Bradley’s eyes flicker briefly downwards in the reflection. With the window open, he can’t help but notice your nipples peaked against the light cotton blend.

“What’s this?” He asks quietly.

“I wanted a change.” You answer him.

He lifts his gaze to your face, just in time for you to turn and face him. Half an hour ago, you were talking to your fiancé — and yet, you’ve got no shame in searching for Bradley’s approval like this. Maybe you aren’t as pure as you had once thought, or as your mother would like you to be. But for now, standing in front of him, you aren’t ashamed.

Malcolm had called you today from his office. He was eating a sub that one of the interns had grabbed from him and he was telling you about his week. Numbers and figures.

You had thought of everything you could tell him. Juliet and the views of the city, sitting under the tree in that garden this afternoon. Bradley.

“I’m sorry that I said what I said.” Bradley tells you. Maybe it’s just because he’s desperate to get the conversation off of the light fabric you’re wearing, but something tells you that he means it. “It was childish, and you’re right, I was being cruel.

Barefoot, you take four short steps forwards until you’re standing right in front of him.

“I’m not saying you’re right — but I shouldn’t have called Robin a slut.” The admission comes with a small, lip-twitching smile. Bradley’s hands reach forwards and curl around your hips.

“She is annoying. I’ll give you that much.” Bradley concedes. Your mouth twists into an eager grin as you press closer and shift up onto your tiptoes. Bradley steadies your hips and follows you in until your mouth is on his. Slowly, sweetly. His hands skim along the yellow fabric experimentally. He hums as he pulls away from you. “So, what’s with this?”

“You’re right. I was ignoring my body — I like the way I look in this. I like my shape. I can still respect myself without covering up so much. Right?”

Fuck. Bradley stares at you for just a split-second too long. He wrestles with the realisation of what he has just done to himself. Sure, you listened to him for once and it was a decent lesson to learn — but his summer just got considerably harder.

“Do you like it?”

He trails his fingers lightly along the fabric, careful not to touch too hard and press it against your skin. Quietly, he hums. “Sure. It’s cute.”

Bradley’s mind is swimming as he is walking back to his room. Fine, he resolved the issue that he went up there to resolve. Now, he has presented himself with a much bigger one.

His hands press into the pockets of his jeans as he starts to contextualize how deep he actually is into this mess. He hasn’t ever thought about fucking a student before — not once. He detests the men he knows that fantasize of it. And yet, here he is, picturing his fingers bunching up that stupid nightdress.

“Hey, Bradley.” Luke grins, sprawled out across his bed in the dark, reading a magazine with a flashlight. Bradley flinches. The door shuts behind him and they’re in there together. “Natasha called from Turin! She told you that she’s going to be in Venice this weekend too, she asked you to call her back.”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #the odyssey #bradley bradshaw x reader

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months ago

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#12: The Building (1.02)

gif cred: @nerd4music

It was such a welcomed sight to see Michonne build bonds with people who cared about her and her goals and even wanted to aid her along the journey. And the person she built the closest bond to is particularly good at building things himself and that comes in handy along the journey. However, things sadly take a tragic turn when Michonne and co have their first run-in with Rick's captors - the CRM 😟...

After parting with Nat's group, we see Michonne in the very scenario we saw in the TWD series finale as she takes out a walker and approaches a massive horde looking regal in her armor on the horse.

Undeterred, Michonne charges forward and it’s a great cinematic shot. Also, this is how you know she is crazily in love with Rick because she sees the largest sea of walkers imaginable and still intends to go through that biblical-sized horde to get to him.

gif cred: @chaoticroad

Michonne uses the scream sticks to try and create an opening in the horde but that gas man catches fire and explodes, knocking her off her horse and turning the walkers' attention to her.

She gets up and takes out her sword prepared to take out as many as possible which is wild and shows her ultimate determination. But fortunately, she doesn’t have to do any of that because Nat’s purple light toys part the walkers like the Red Sea.

Michonne turns around to see that Nat and co have left their group and followed Michonne to help her on her journey. And again, seeing Michonne receive genuine friendliness and support was super refreshing. 🙌🏽🥹

gif cred: @nerd4music

They sit by a fire at night and I love Michonne and Nat’s dynamic as he addresses her falling off the horse and her defending that she was knocked off. Their banter makes me smile. 😊 Michonne looks all cozy as she asks about the purple light and Nat explains he has a lot of toys and inventions. He’s clearly extremely smart and innovative.

Nat explains why he stayed in the caravan group for years and how he knew it was time to go a long time ago. Michonne thanks them and they thank her for waking them up to realize their community was not it.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Michonne observes Aiden and Bailey and immediately picks up on something going on with them. Nat says, “I know how to build things and I know how to burn things. But it takes more than that at the end of the world. You showed them that. You showed me that.”

Look at Michonne always showing people the way and them knowing she shows them the way too. 🥰 And no one knows that more than Rick who told her that very thing in Say Yes and in his letter to her in the TWD series finale.

Then I love Nat saying, “We’ll take you as far as you need” Yes supporting her. 👏🏽😭 It’s everything Michonne deserves. And then I especially love Michonne saying, “When I get Rick, you’ll come back home with me all of you. You’ll be a part of it. It’s just gonna take a little building” I love it because she’s so hospitable and because she finally said Rick's name. I think it’s our first time hearing her say his name aloud since she found out he’s alive.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Nat excuses himself off to bed and Bailey says he’s going to get Aiden something to eat. Aiden tries to assure that she’s fine but Bailey is all lovingly determined to take care of her, and I know Michonne recognizes that type of love.

Michonne watches their exchange and says, “You’re pregnant.” Aiden confirms and says she had been craving honey and Bailey was determined to get it for her and surprise her.

Michonne listens and smiles hearing the story and it’s so bittersweet because I know this makes her think about how Rick wasn’t there during her pregnancy. 😢 You just know Rick, the ultimate gift-giving loverboy, would have searched far and wide to get Michonne whatever she craved when she was pregnant with RJ. And the fact that didn't get to happen is just...

Michonne, the always kind comforter, tells Aiden that she and Bailey should just head to ASZ now. Aiden is adamant that, “We want to be there when you find Rick” and I know a Richonner when I see one and this woman is a Richonner, y’all. 😋 She was eager for that reunion just like us lol. I know she can just sense that whatever love Rick and Michonne have is one they don’t want to miss bearing witness to.

Even when Michonne is adamant and says no they should go to ASZ, Aiden says, “We will. After you find Rick” and I’m glad that after it felt like characters were only allowed to directly say Rick's name once or twice a season after he left now we’re hearing Michonne and others just outright talk about Rick.

Michonne smiles and says ok as she warmly pats her and again I’m loving the friendships. But also Michonne is always right so…they probably should’ve just went to ASZ when she told them to because what happens next is pretty darn tragic for everyone involved. 😬

The next day Michonne walks alongside Nat as more of the group follow and Michonne playfully questions why so many people followed Nat if he only likes her, Bailey, and Aiden. Nat teases that the others have gone up a letter grade but not quite to like, which is a testament to Michonne’s likability that he wholeheartedly liked her so quick while others he traveled with longer are still not quite there in his book. Nat basically said...

Michonne smiles and asks, “Who else in your life?” and I just really like seeing characters talk to get to know each other. I feel like at some point in the main show it was starting to feel like characters didn’t talk like this anymore so watching Michonne and Nat’s bond build through these conversations was nice to see.

I like how Nat says “me” as someone he likes lol and he also says his mom. Nat gives insight into some of his backstory as he shares that his dad wasn’t in the picture since he didn’t want a ‘little’ little kid and he had a lot of bullies so he started burning things and blowing things up in the woods.

Then Nat goes into a story that I realized on my rewatch very much parallels Michonne in a really sweet way.

gif cred: @chaoticroad

Nat starts to talk about this guy Danger who his mom met and who became his stepdad. Who also became a stepparent to a young boy? Michonne.

Nat shares that Danger met his mom at a time when she worked a horrible job and “had one very troubled kid who hated Danger as soon as he looked at him.” Who also met her true love while he was in a very tough predicament and had a troubled kid who didn’t seem to like her at first? Michonne.

gif cred:chonesmint

Nat says, “And this guy, with this stupid name, looked at that and said ‘hell yes’.” Who also looked at a person who would run around a prison seeing things and a kid who initially tried to push her away and ultimately said hell yes to them and embraced them as her family? Michonne.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love how Danger and Nat's story connects to Michonne and Carl - one of TWD's best duos, besties, and mother and son.

Nat, whose a great storyteller, continues saying, “Anyway, he married my mom and right after he moved in suddenly Danger had these problems that he needed solved. You know like that he needed me to solve.”

That reminds me of how Michonne too made Carl feel like a valued member of the group and not just some kid to write off. She even told Carl info about herself first that she hadn’t yet told anyone else, like about her son Andre, because she cared to connect with him as a person.

gif cred: @thewalkingdeadgifs

Nat explains all the things he’d build around the house for Danger and then in a moment of great acting from Matthew Jeffers he begins to wonder if Danger really needed all that help or if he focused him up on how he can build things instead of burn them.

Nat says, “I guess that’s somebody else I liked” and Michonne says, “Sounds like you loved him.” Such a sweet moment and really well done in getting us to feel even more invested in a new character.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

I also really appreciate the way this pays homage to the beauty of step-parents who step up in a child’s life and come to mean the world to their kid. They could have made Danger a neighbor, teacher, uncle, etc, but making him a stepparent is definitely intentional here if you ask me. Because the great thing about TOWL is that every single scene is Richonne/Grimes family-related.

And hearing a story about a kid’s love for his great step-parent really reflects and pays homage to the great step-parent Michonne became to Carl and how he really loved her too. 🥲

I love how people stay telling Michonne life stories that parallel her own.

Nat’s friends tell him they love him as he tells them to shut up and then the love fest is brought to an explosive end as a helicopter flies over them.

gif cred: @perryabbott

It’s crazy finally seeing Michonne learn of the helicopters. They watch it fly and then Michonne quickly realizes this helicopter is here for nefarious reasons. She yells for the group to scatter as the helicopter bombs them with chlorine gas. The attack is brutal and has rapidly damaging effects.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne and friends just barely make it inside a mall and when they do finally get in, they place Aiden on the bed as it’s clear she’s not going to make it. The chlorine gas also had a bit of negativity-gas laced in it because these hopeful Richonners no longer think the mission to find Rick is worth the risk.

On her deathbed Aiden tells Michonne, “Go back to your babies. Don’t risk it” and it’s really sad because you know she knows she’s not going to live to see her unborn baby and she doesn’t want Michonne to miss out on seeing hers again.

Michonne knows a medical plaza where they might be able to get oxygen tanks because they can’t get air. Always the one willing to go, Michonne prepares to go back out into the toxic air and get the oxygen tanks and she tells Bailey not to fall asleep next to his girlfriend. That always stands out to me that Michonne advises this because it’s almost like she knows from personal experience that when you lose your soulmate it makes you want to just stop fighting and be with them.

As Michonne wheezes her way back inside the mall with the oxygen tanks it's unfortunately too late. She finds Aiden and Bailey both have turned. Nat is still alive, surrounded by fire and Michonne keeps Bailey from getting to him. This fire yet again speaks to the message of how fire both destroys and saves.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Nat thanks Michonne because he couldn’t bring himself to take out his close friend and then he too expresses that he thinks the rescue-Rick mission is futile as he says, “She was…she was right. When you can, you need to go home. It’s been too long...He’s gone” The way he says 'he’s gone' I was like damn they really dropped the mission quick. But not Michonne tho as she adamantly says, "No."

Because see, while the episode may be called "Gone", Michonne knows her man is not gone. Rick is still out there, she still feels him, and she is still fueled by that belief. It’s just now the trifling CRM has put a delay on things. A year-long delay. 😣 The CRM has to burn for that among many other things.

So now Michonne is stuck in this mall - but even here in these circumstances, we get to see the resilience that is Michonne Grimes. Because this journey isn’t over until she says it is. 😌👌🏽

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.02 #RIR (12)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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sendpseuds · 1 month ago

Text

Oh no I’ve figured out the Twister au—

If it were up to Anakin, he would never return to Oklahoma.

His mom is gone, his step brother never liked him anyway, his team is—

But when Padme surprised him with plane tickets, calling it an engagement gift and squealing about how excited she was to see where he grew up— Anakin couldn’t find a good enough excuse to say no.

Now, staring at a familiar caravan of ramshackle vehicles on the side of the road, Anakin thinks maybe he should have told her the truth.

Because the truth is, if it were up to Anakin, he never would have left Oklahoma in the first place.

If it had been up to Anakin he would be in the back of that beat up bus searching for the next big storm.

If it were up to Anakin he would never have walked away from the two things he loved more than anything.

But it hadn’t been up to Anakin.

No, Obi-Wan took that choice away.

“It’s an incredible opportunity, Anakin, think of what you could do at a school like that.”

“But I belong here, chasing storms.”

[even then he hadn’t been able to say “I belong with you, Obi-Wan.” Even now he doesn’t think it would have changed anything.]

“I can’t make you go. But I won’t let you back on this team until you come back here with a degree.”

Anakin hates him.

But when his eyes land on the figure tinkering with the same damn satellite dish they’ve had forever, a shock of fire red hair glowing in the Oklahoma sun, Anakin thinks that may not be as true as he’d thought.

#idiots in love #but add tornadoes #padme is definitely the smartest person in this au #pretty sure she’s the one to tell Obi-Wan that Anakin is in love with him #because idiots #twister au #obikin #drabbles

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theflowerofthecommonwealth · 6 months ago

Text

Power Armor Punch Part Sixty Eight

Masterlist

Teshteal: *hides behind Gardio suddenly, sniffing the air to see if this person's friend or foe*

Gardio: *not sure why he's hiding suddenly since he knows the smaller man can easily kill a horde of super mutants*

Joyce: (Immediately notices and turns to face Teshteal, worry on her face) “Teshteal….?”

Donovan: (To the crew member) “Safe trip?” (Extends his hand for a handshake)

Crew Member: (Grips Donny’s arm with hers, flashing a friendly smile) “The waters got a little rough, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.” (Gestures behind her at the rest of the crew members who are starting to unload) “We’ve got everything on the list- along with some gifts from friends.”

Donovan: (Begins walking closer to the boat) “Is that so?”

Teshteal: *eyeing up and down the crew member. So far he smells the sea and the typical smell of gun powder that many a caravan person has. Hisses* Gifts? *listening and sniffing for anything that could be a bomb or a trojan crate*

Gardio: *notices Joyce's concerned look and extends a reassuring hand* He's likely on guard because it's a new person... *To crew member after adjusting his hat* Mind if I and my associate inspect the crates?

Lucille: *quietly blinks into the water as the lullaby ends, not sure how to handle her now relaxed and still state*

Ma: (Softly, like a mother speaking to her downhearted child) “Something on your mind, love?”

Lucille: Just not used to being this relaxed. *shrugs*

Ma: (Grabs some conditioner and a comb) “Is that so? You’re on the road a lot I take it?”

Joyce: (Inches closer to Teshteal, holding out her hand to him) “It’s okay- they are good friends of ours….” (Glances back at the boat) “Really good friends….”

Crew Member: (So confused about the glowing ghoul and the strange hissy gremlin behind him) “Uh…..” (Turns to Donny with wide eyes)

Donovan: (Shrugs his shoulders) “I mean…. It ain’t like they're hiding anything.” (Gestures at the crew members who are beginning to unload the boat onto the dock) “We’ve known these guys all their lives- their parents and even grandparents too.”

Boat Captain: (Waves to Donny from the top of the deck)

Donovan: (Smiles and waves back) “Yo Trenton! Ya didn’t happen to pack a bomb on the boat, hm?”

Trenton: (Shakes his head) “And hurt dear old Mama Evie? You think I’m trying to get my head to be served on a platter?”

Goats: (Bleat from inside the boat as if confirming the captains words)

Lucille: *nods* Very. I have settlements to maintain- *tenses up, remembering all the work she has to do on quite a few settlements* I need to get back to work soon-

Ma: (Frowns slightly hearing that) “Honey, remember what I said about slowing down to give yourself time?”

Teshteal: *slowly eases out from behind the large glowing one detective with extreme caution*

Gardio: *to the crew* If you say so. *still watching warily like the gargoyle he is*

Joyce: (Reaches to take her boyfriends hand, looking between both him and Gardio) “….Is something wrong?”

Crew Member: (Still looking at Donny nervously as she rushes to follow him) “Protective much?” (Gestures at the two newcomers who seems extra wary and cautious) “Are they…..?”

Donovan: (Shakes his head as he takes a crate from a crew member that hands it to him) “Nah, but you guys didn’t hire anyone new- right?”

Crew Member: (Also shakes her head) “Nope. Some old sea dogs as it’s always been.”

Donovan: “Good.” (Motions with his chin to a spot on the ground) “Just leave the crates and boxes there- and I’ll bring ‘em inside. You know how Ma likes everything organized.”

Crew Member: “You’re sure Donny…? We can help with the sorting?”

Donovan: (Remembering Jasmine and how jumpy she is) “Nawh- I’ve got it. Besides, don’t you guys have other places to be?”

Teshteal: New people. I need to be careful that they aren't vault operatives or that I don't hurt innocent people.

Gardio: *to Teshteal* They seem like decent people-

Teshteal: *shakes his head* Not just that, I sense... something off out here. Hard to place right now. *tail twitches anxiously*

Lucille: *quietly* This isn't enough time...?

Ma: (Smiles sadly down at her, gently squeezing her hand that she never let go of) “No my dear- three days is not enough for what you went through and neither is one soothing bath.”

Lucille: That's what worked in the past. I don't see why it doesn't work now. *shrugs*

Joyce: (Looks around at the people helping with unloading the cargo) “But what’s wrong about this?”

Trenton: (Comes out with a small bundle- too small to be a baby but it’s some sort of little creature) “Joyce? Sweetheart- look who’s here.”

Joyce: (Eyes widen as she begins to approach the boat captain instead, carefully taking the bundle from him)

Donovan: (Stopped helping with unloading the crates just to watch, smiling at his little sister)

Joyce: (Squeals with excitement as she beams down at the little bundle) “Ohhhhhhh!!!! She’s adorable!!!”

Teshteal: *ears perk up and and curiosity gets the best of him so he carefully approaches Joyce to see what... or rather who she's holding. He completely forgot her question already*

Joyce: (Beams up at her boyfriend, leaning towards him to show her little bundle of joy)

The Bundle: (Contains the tiny wiggly form of a baby panda ferret who’s no older than eight weeks old)

Joyce: (Squeals as she coos down at the little noodle, scratching under its chin) “Isn’t she just the cutest!?!?”

Trenton: (Smiles at Joyce and backs off to talk with Donovan, his face getting slightly more serious)

Ma: (Tenderly as she pets Lucille’s hair) “Oh honey- that ain’t a good way to function. It is like I said before- you’re human and it’s not fair to treat yourself as less. You need rest, for both your mental and physical health.”

Lucille: That's lovely and all but I have people who depend on me. They need supplies- Defenses! I can't just lay around for a week when they're waiting on materials that could very well save their lives!

Ma: (Raises a brow at this) “Huh, If I didn’t know any better I would say you sound like you’re raising a bunch of orphaned children. Are that weak and helpless? Isn’t there someone else who can give them a hand? You’re just one person, sweetheart. You can’t do it all.” (Fearful that Lucille will crumble again under more pressure)

Teshteal: *eyes go big- as large as saucers- at the teeny little panda noodle. He resists the urge to pick her up and lifts her up above his head in awe* A little baby panoodle...! *cupping both sides of his face, trying to contain his joy. He forgets about his apprehension completely thanks to the precious little ferret*

Joyce: “Panoodle!!!!!” (Looks like she’s attempting to contain her joy just as much as Teshteal, giving a bunch of little kisses down to her new baby)

Pirate: (Running and jumping around to greet everyone as if they were old friends, tail wagging like crazy)

Trenton: (Beckons Donovan to follow him while Joyce is distracted, picking up a crate of food that is meant to go inside)

Donovan: (Gives one quick look to his little sister as he also picks up a crate to carry inside, following the captain) “What’s up?”

Trenton: “I’ve got something for ya….”

Lucille: *purses her lips in thought and goes silent in thought for a moment. Quietly* Who's going to build the defenses...? The walls...? No one else does it but me... *head spins as she begins to spiral from how much the Commonwealth depends on solely her*

Ma: (Squeezes Lucille’s hand again as even more worry floods her face) “My sweet…..” (Gently cups Lucille’s cheek with her other hand to try and get her attention before she loses the young woman) “Lucille, look at me please.”

Lucille: ... *looks up ever so slightly, her mismatched eyes trying to focus on Ma despite her spiraling thoughts on all the responsibility thrown on her*

Ma: (Gently strokes Lucille’s cheek with her thumb, her face soft and comforting) “Are you with me, sweetie?”

Teshteal: *cooing at the tiny panda noodle. Doesn't believe he's seen anything so cute in his life*

Joyce: (Moves to huddle in closer to her boyfriend again so he can get a better look at the little wiggly gal) “She’s so little!!!” (Slightly holds the bundle out so Teshteal can hold the baby if he wants)

Donovan: “Good or bad?”

Trenton: “Wish I could say good news- but sadly it ain’t…..”

Donovan: (Feels a weight of dread and exhaustion build up in his chest at that) “Oh…..”

Teshteal: *takes the baby panoodle into his arms and gently nuzzles her soft fur with his nose* So soft and sweet! *stops for a moment, admiring the adorable ball of fluff* What are you going to name her?

Joyce: (Proudly) “Gertie!!! She’s from the same mother as Gilbert!!!”

Gertie: (Gives a very tiny lick on the gremlins nose, her little paws poking out of the swaddle she’s in)

Donovan: (Sets the crate down on the kitchen counter, walking over to check on the slowly simmering pot of broth)

Trenton: (Looks like he’s dreading to bare whatever news he has to the ghoul)

Jasmine: (Whimpers ever so slightly in her sleep, also feeling a heavy load start to weigh down on her shoulders and ropes snag at her ankles- trying to pull her down in her dreams once more….. But she can also feel something else…. Something she can’t quit put her finger on…. But it’s present)

Teshteal: *giggles at the tiny ferret kiss* Awe! He's got a little sister now! *gently holds one of her tiny paws in his fingers* Wook at her wittle hands!

Joyce: (Practically shining brighter than the sun itself) “She’s so stinking cute that imma die!!!”

Gertie: (Looking between the two squealers curiously, so confused on what’s going on)

Crew Members: (Keep unloading all the goods and eventually they stroll on out with a half dozen or so sheep and goats with their young, the creatures bleating as the clamor along)

Jasmine: (Attempts to free herself from the chains that are tying and pulling her down as she feels the crushing weight of the world on bare down on her shoulders- partly recognizing that she’s dreaming and her troubles are manifesting themselves into it. She struggles for a bit, tears forming on her waterline and she’s about to scream with frustration but then she feels like what seems to be a gentle kiss on her head from behind and she freezes- hearing a low hum in the distance of her dreamworld)

Teshteal: *blinks for a moment, tail twitching upward when he realizes something. Whispers* I think we might be scaring her with all our cooing. *to the baby ferret as quietly as he possibly can* Sorry.

Joyce: (Hums lowly as her emerald eyes widen) “Ooops…..” (Reaches out to gently stroke her new baby’s face again) “Sorry Gertie….”

Gertie: (Also licks Joyce’s fingers with her tiny tongue when she can)

Lucille: Trying to be... *thoughts race on what settlement still needs what resource and how many turrets she needs to assign to another and so on...* Hard to stop when it's all you've been able to think about for the last year and a half....

Ma: (Softly) “And you do it all completely on your own? For over a year and a half now?”

Lucille: *nods grimly* No one helps...

Ma: (Heart just about snaps all over again and she has half a mind to go down to these settlements and give them an earful because poor Lucille seems to have enough trouble as it is) “It really is no wonder that you’re so overworked. But I’m sure we can work something out that doesn’t involve you trudging all around to try and fix everyone’s problems.”

Jasmine: (Her hands that were once firmly clasping Nicks shirt start to move a bit to grope behind him despise nothing being there) “Mhmmm……”

Dogmeat: (Sniffs the girl when she does this, whining softly)

Jasmine: (Eyes sparkle in her dream world as the humming gets closer and it’s unmistakeable of what it is to her) “Mamá…..” (And just like that- the weight starts to get lifted off her shoulders and her ties start to become undone)

Nick: *to dogmeat calmly* I see it, boy. Problem is- I don't want to wake her. *senses the presence himself, though for him it's more like an unknown source of heat or warmth other than the sun*

Gardio: *observing from the distance. From the sound of things, the goods involve livestock and he doesn't want to risk contaminating them with his radiation*

Teshteal: *gentle smile, or as gentle as it can be with his sharp teeth at Gertie*

Lucille: Good luck getting people to listen... If it's not farming or guard duty or some other slightly menial task, then it's all on me to keep up these places.

Ma: (Huffs slightly when she hears that) “Well that sounds to me plain unfair on your side. They cannot really expect one woman to help now can they?”

Gertie: (Licks her nose as she gazes up between Joyce and Teshteal, seemingly unbothered by Teshteal appearance since he’s friendly)

Joyce: (Nose scrunches slightly) “I think Gilbert isn’t going to be too happy- he’s spoiled that way.”

Jasmine: (Shakes off her remaining shackles in her dream and looks around with wide kitten eyes) “Mamá!!!!” (She listens for the humming, but it sounds like it’s coming from all directions so she picks one and starts running) “Mami!!!!!” (She feels another soft breath and kiss on the back of her neck this time as she runs- fueling her determination. She misses her mother so damn much….)

Dogmeat: (Noses his way on in closer to the teen as she continues to try and grab something behind Nick while kicking her feet)

Nick: Oh- Hold on, doll... *wraps his arms around her to keep her from knocking the both of them off of the lounge chair and starts rubbing her back to soothe her excitement*

Teshteal: *quiet huff* What is Gilbert to do? She'll have to live in the same house. *emphatically raises his hands, as if performing a fool in a play shrugging off a joke or a jab*

Joyce: (Giggles at Teshteal, squeezing Gertie’s bundle slightly) “You’re right. He’ll have to grow to love his little sister. Besides- I’m sure she smells like their mother.” (Sniffs the little noodle to confirm her thoughts- Gertie smelling exactly like baby Gilbert when she first got him)

Lucille: *shrugs in defeat* Apparently, they can... Doesn't matter. I like building-

Ma: (Shakes her head in disapproval at these people as she mutters something under her breath, tapping the bottom of Lucille’s chin) “I’m sure you do honey- but too much strain on one person will cause them to crumble. So no- they can’t be asking you to do everything for them. You have your own life to manage too.”

Jasmine: (Somewhat feels Nicks gentle rubs in her sleep, but she cannot really contain herself as she feels the softest of touches caress the side of her face and she runs even faster towards a bright beacon of light in the distance. Behind her she can almost hear and feels her troubles calling out to her, but the light is driving it all away for her) “Mamá!!!”

Nick: *confused- she's usually only this active in her sleep when she's having a nightmare and yet, she doesn't seem distressed*

Teshteal: *sniffs* She does smell kind of similar to the little guy...

Gardio: *still still as a statue. One would assume he is one*

Joyce: (Takes in a deep inhale of Gertie, rocking back and forth happily) “Baby ferret smell!!!”

Lucille: *mutters quietly* What life... I had a life before the war and now what? I blew up the institute- but that's all I'll ever be known for.... *splashes the water in a fit of frustration* The one who obliterated the boogeyman of the commonwealth while graciously giving homes to those who need them.

Ma: “Correct me if I am wrong- but I believe that ‘your life’ consists of the same people who helped talk you out of ending it so soon and have taken care of you.” (Tenderly rakes her fingers through Lucille’s purple hair) “They make up your life and you make up theirs in turn. That is what family is. You take care of one another and watch each others hearts and wellbeing.”

Lucille: *eyes sting with tears. She tries to hide it by averting her gaze. She doesn't know if she has the strength to return the favor to the people who do care... And now she wonders if she's failed each and every one of them, now*

Jasmine: (Hums along with the song the voice of her mother is singing- recognizing it immediately as one of the many lullabies she’d sing. It twists her heartstrings a bit, but she cannot help the smile on her face) “Mami….” (She stops running but doesn’t stop squirming to escape in real life, closing her eyes to bask in the warmth she’s feeling throughout her body)

Nick: *still holding his squirming daughter as still as he can. He keeps petting her back to comfort her*

Ma: (Smiles kindly down at the young woman) “You know- people often ask me why I do what I do. Why I devote everything I am to being a caretaker and mother when I seemingly get little in return for walking sometime walking into a blaze that could leave me with less than what I had before. What they don’t understand is that I do get something in return each and every time. I get the irreplaceable joy of seeing my babies and loved ones flourish and glow over time even in the tiniest ways. That will fill me up more than gold and glory ever wil even if it’s in the tiniest of ways like a simple glitter in their eyes in the morning at breakfast or the peaceful look on their face as they sleep in comfort.” (Gently taps the bottom of Lucille’s chin once more before she moves her hand up to tuck her short hair behind her ears even if there isn’t much to do so) “That’s what any good parent wants from their kid. I can say that your father is no different. And if I end up with taking a hard loss or a couple of hits, well then so be it. Love is the sacrifices we make for each other anyways. And if you’re wondering what you’re sacrificing here for this love- it’s that little piece of you that you keep trying to hide away from everyone. That little piece of you that’s human, tired and just wants peace and rest. Yes, that piece of you that you think is unwanted and not worth it is still precious because it’s a part of you, my love.”

Teshteal: *eyes sparkle at how loving his girlfriend is over this small creature*

Joyce: (Bounces and pats her little bundle of joy- then glances back at the house) “I wonder how we should play this out with Gilbert….”

Jasmine: (Mumbling hoarsely as she paws midair) “Mamá…. Come back…. Please….” (Kicks her feet a bit harder) “Lo siento Mami, lo mucho siento. Por favor….. Don’t leave me alone- you know I hate it….”

Translation: “I’m sorry Mommy, I’m very sorry. Please.”

Dogmeat: (Sniffles the squirming girl some more with big puppy eyes of confusion and concern because she’s making strange sounds)

The Voice: (Whispers ever so softly and comfortingly into the broken teens ear, wrapping her up in a hug of warmth and security) “Chiquilla bonita. Llegaste del cielo en un tren del amor. Tu alegre sonrisa. Me enseña en la vida, el camino mejor….”

Translation: “Pretty girly. You arrived from heaven on a train of love. You’re happy smile. It teaches me the better things in life.”

Jasmine: (Feels her heart both flood with overwhelming joy and crack into a million little pieces when she registers that- having not understood why her mother had been so adamant on singing that song to her during her prewar days…. But now it’s just becoming clear. She has to find her mother- she has to say sorry) “I’m sorry Mamá…..” (She hugs her dream self tightly and rocks back and forth on her feet, taking a couple of slow steps to follow the voice but once again it’s coming from all directions)

Nick: *whispers* What's going on in that pretty little head of yours...?

Teshteal: Hrm... Slowly? Like a cat?

Gardio: *nods*

Lucille: *lips tremble before burying her face in her hands. She wishes she COULD rest but the consequences of that feel too great*

Ma: (Softly) “Whatcha thinking about, my sweet?” (Gently allows her hand to rest on Lucille’s shoulder, looking on at the young woman with concern and understanding)

Lucille: *voice cracks as she cries into her hands* I... I can't just drop everything to rest-! I can't- There's so much I need to do- people could die without me- *sobs, deep down wanting to rest but it seems like an impossible task*

Joyce: (Glances between Gardio and Teshteal) “I suppose so- but knowing my little stinker he’ll come running the moment he senses someone else taking up my attention then throw a tantrum.”

Teshteal: So then we show him immediately-!

Gardio: Carefully-

Teshteal: We carefully show him immediately! *Beaming from ear to ear*

Jasmine: (Mewls like a lost kitten looking for their mother because she essentially is, her dream self wandering aimlessly through an empty field to find a dead woman whom she swears she can feel in her heart and hear in the distance. She smiles despite being lost- because she knows that her mother is close by and wouldn’t allow anyone to lay a finger on her child) “Where are you?”

Ma: “Oh cariño…” (Her mother instincts take ahold and she immediately drops to her knees besides the poor young woman, gently draping her arm around Lucille’s shoulder to pull her into a hug that she can easily pull out of if she desires) “Sssssh, it’s gonna be alright. We’ll figure things out all together. You can only shoulder so much on your own until you crack and crumble- but that’s what your family is here for.”

Teshteal: So then we show him immediately-!

Gardio: Carefully-

Teshteal: We carefully show him immediately! *Beaming from ear to ear*

Joyce: (Turns back to the lighthouse in thought, then back down at the tiny kit once more) “Well- he’s gonna have to at least tolerate her. Hopefully he quickly learns that there’s plenty of love to go around. Plus it’s not good for ferrets to be alone.”

Teshteal: *making kissy faces and baby noises at the baby ferret... his ears pick up a rustling noise in the distance of the woods but the size tells him it might be a wild animal of some kind*

Jasmine: (Suddenly perks upright from Nicks chest as if she was summoned, her hands firmly planted on his shoulders so she can steady herself as her big magical doe eyes scan the area expectingly. They gloss over both Nick and Dogmeat as if they weren’t there- obviously she’s looking for something else) “Mamá…..” (She can still feel the warmth in her heart and the prickle of a ghostly kiss on the back of her head….. But where is her mother?)

Nick: *looks where she is. His sensors pick up a faint impression of... something but it's hard to get a reading. He briefly considers heading to Acadia for calibration if not for Jasmine's behavior. Kindly, out of confusion* What about her, doll?

Lucille: *sobs into the older woman's arms*

Ma: (Locks Lucille into her strong and comforting embrace that many people had sought solace in before) “Sssshh, it’s okay. Just let it all out.”

Jasmine: (Pouts a bit when she can’t find her mother, then she tilts her head at another prickle on her cheek. She then makes grabby hands up in the air while leaning over the side of the chair, almost like she’s trying to leap out of her fathers arms)

Nick: Woah, hold on there... *pulls her back a little, unsure exactly why she's trying to leap out of the seat at nothing. Granted, it seems better than the wild thrashing from before, but it doesn't make him any less concerned about her current behavior*

Gardio: *decides that the two lovebirds should be fine so he walks back to the lighthouse to try and be of some help. He approaches the two men* If there's any cargo that isn't food or livestock to haul in or set up, I'd be willing to help.

Donovan: (Looks frazzled about something but slowly nods his head, a bottle of broth in hand) “Yeah…. Yeah, that would be nice thank you….” (He walks over to the other ghoul, holding out the bottle to him) “Give this to Detective Valentine before you go, please.”

Trenton: (Leaning against the wall, looking down in deep thought, staring Donny’s expression of worry)

Gardio: Will do. *gives an affirming nod then gives Donny a reassuring but heavy pat on the shoulder, giving him just a little radiation as a boost to help ease his frazzled nerves before he heads on up to the roof*

Donovan: (Gives a weak smile at Gardio as he leaves, then sighs heavily)

Joyce: (Goes back to squealing happily over the little one) “Oooooh, she’s too perfect!!! I can’t get enough of her sweet little face!!!”

Gertie: (Gazes up at Teshteal and Joyce, licking her nose some more)

Teshteal: *licks his own nose with his long tongue to mimic Gertie*

Gertie: (Seems fascinated by the two people in front of her, especially by the strange gremlin man mimicking her by licking his own nose)

Joyce: (Giggles some more, this time at her boyfriend) “Ack, you’re cute as well!!!”

Jasmine: (Whines when she’s kept from leaping into the air but she doesn’t seem too upset, just tries to do it again while still making grabby hands at nothing)

Nick: *sighs, knowing if he tries to snap her out of it, she'll just grow more distressed* I can't just let you go- you might hurt yourself... Maybe your mama will come closer to hold you.

Gardio: *walks up the stairs to the roof and raises an eyebrow in confusion at the girl making grabby hands in the air. It's a stark contrast to the screaming and thrashing from before. He very carefully approaches and speaks calmly so he doesn't spook her* I have broth for her.

Teshteal: *turns to her and licks his nose like he's some sort of big cat then makes a tiny chirping noise with his mouth- being the silliest of sillies to make his angel laugh*

Joyce: (Shrieks with laughter at her goofball of a boyfriend, putting a hand over her mouth to try and muffle her laughter that can be heard across the ocean)

Teshteal: *grins at how much that simple noise made her happy* I could gobble her and Gilbert up like a couple of extra big noodles! *Playfully licks his lips*

Jasmine: (Looks over at Gardio when she hears his voice and blinks slowly, then turns to her father, then back to the space up in the area she was looking at) “Mamá….” (She wiggles in her dads arms, patting on his shoulder to try and make her let go, then makes her grabby hands to be picked up by whatever she’s looking at)

Dogmeat: (Whines with confusion, trying to lick the girl)

Gardio: *finally next to the chair. He sets the bottle down next to Nick* Here... Do you think she'll drink it in this state?

Nick: I haven't a clue... *to Jasmine* Hey, kitten. Do you think your Mama would be happy if you drank this broth? *picks up the bottle and holds it up* I think she would. *gently smiling at her*

Jasmine: “Mamá….” (Takes her eyes off the air with a wistful and somber, deep longing look in her eyes, letting her hands rest back on her Dads shoulders as she turns to look at him. She tilts her head to one side, then seems to register that it’s him and she breaks out into a warm smile)

Nick: *smiles just as warmly back, relieved to se that she's isn't suffering for once* It's good to see that smile. Would you like some broth? *Offers it to her once more to see if she'll take it or not*

Gardio: *amazed that the girl looks so at peace. He glances over at the spector she was making grabby hands at a second ago*

Nick: *thinks to himself* So he can see it, too? Well that means it's not a simple calibration issue...

Jasmine: (Softly) “Daddy….” (Gently presses her forehead to his while putting a hand on his cheek, sighing softly, not acknowledging what he’s offering her)

The Object: (Appears to be a misty ball of white light up in the sky, now fading out so it’s almost completely transparent)

Nick: *sighs and sets the bottle down* I suppose not... *Reaches up with his bad hand and strokes her cheek, then attempts to brush a stray hair from her face* Hey, kiddo.

Gardio: *watching as it disappears, wondering what or who that could have been... Whatever it was seemed to have a calming effect on the girl. Quietly he turns to and starts for the stairs* I'm going to help Donny. I promised him that I'd help.

Jasmine: (Hums happily in greeting, sighing as she slinks down to rest her head against Nicks chest, listening to the soothing sounds of his inner workings while the sun shines over them. She’s still tired, like her body is light years away from being fully recharged)

Joyce: “Oooohhh- I so hope they get along well!!! I would love to have a ferret snuggle session!!!”

Teshteal: *looks up and notices Gardio's left* We should... Probably go back. Dio left- *slight panic enters his voice* Why did he leave-?

Joyce: (Looks around) “Hm, I don’t know. Maybe he went to help Donny with the stuff.”

Teshteal: Yeah... *Shaking a little. He can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end again* I don't feel safe out here, though... Let's head back. *Turns to the lighthouse*

Joyce: (Seems concerned but she follows along) “Errrrrm…. Okay then. But can I ask, why don’t you feel safe?”

Teshteal: *glances at the ship* I don't know those people. I don't know if they're from that hellish place. *Already walking along*

Joyce: (Walks alongside him, confused) “What place? These our Ma and Donny’s friends, they’ve known them for a long time.”

Donovan: (Already putting away some of the stuff he brought in, raising his head when Gardio pokes his head in) “Handed it off?”

Gardio: As good as done. She still seemed sleepy though... *Fully steps into the kitchen* What do you need help with bringing in?

Donovan: (Rubs his forehead for a moment, then starts walking to the door past Gardio) “The stuff with the storage labels go into the basement, the kitchen labels go the kitchen, and the rest into the living room. Mama will sort them out later.”

Jasmine: (Her eyes click up to her father as she rests, lifting a hand to gently touch the side of his neck where there’s a large gash, humming a bit sadly and with concern)

@lucilleandherrobots

#So uh I decided to make my characters have a more prominent Mexican background.#Because I was so pissed at Disneys Primos and said; “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”#Jk jk. But I’m still doing it and changed some of the old dialogue to reflect this.#So uh yaaaaay- diversity!!!#I am so excited to show off the pretty colors and good food.#And the SPANGLISH.#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #nick valentine #fallout oc #fallout original character #fallout roleplay #fallout rp

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psyphigirl · 5 months ago

Text

How to play Caravan (New Vegas)

While I was tryin to learn how to play Caravan I saw loads of guides were just explaining the win conditions and not the actual rules or controls. So this post'll explain everything about caravan from top to bottom. (The only reason to play Caravan is for the two achievements, win three times and win thirty times; I don't find it very fun, not the fastest way of making money, and has no bearing on any plot.)

Getting the Cards

The only way to get the Caravan Deck is from Ringo after completing Ghost Town Gunfight (or looting it off his body). You don't need this, but it gives you the minimum number of cards you need to play. If you don't take it you'll have to manually find enough cards for Caravan to be available for you You can get cards from vendors and merchants (~two caps per). Keep an eye out for 6's, 8's, 10's, and Kings (The strat I'll describe needs those cards). You can have multiple copies of the same card (i.e. more than one 6 of Spades)

I got the most cards from Lacey (the bartender) at the Mojave Outpost (anywhere from three to eight). Buy the cards you need and wait three days for her to restock. There's a semi-rare bug where she'll sell two of the exact same card (i.e. two Ultra Luxe 8 of Hearts): Buying both'll crash the game

Sierra Madre Cards

If you have Dead Money installed you can find additional cards for Caravan in and around the Sierra Madre. Below is all the cards you can find and where they are:

8 of Clubs - Sierra Madre Casino & Resort (Cantina Madrid): On the floor in front of a file cabinet to the right of the Cafe Madrid terminal and restaurant manager desk. King of Clubs - Medical District: Inside a 2nd floor room with an active electric hot plate, north of the Villa clinic and above a ground level cafe sign directly west across a courtyard from the room containing the 6 of Diamonds, on a round table in the northeast corner. 6 of Diamonds - Medical District: Inside a 2nd floor room northeast of the Villa clinic and directly east across a courtyard from the room containing the King of Clubs, on a wooden shelf in the southwest corner behind an orange chair. 10 of Hearts - Villa: Some distance north of the Villa police station and west of the room containing the 5 of Hearts, on the interior corner of a walkway to the southeast of a wall fountain. Going from the 5 of Hearts, out the door with a wall fountain, down the stairs, in the corner of the interior walkway on the left. 6 of Spades - Salida del Sol North: In the northwest corner of a small courtyard with three bear traps and a dead tree, on the ground between a wall and three pipes, just west of the stairs leading to a room containing Dean's Secret Stash, a radio and two pool tables. 8 of Spades - Villa police station: In the northwest corner of the cell Dog is located in.

Who can I play with?

You're never explicitly told who you can play with, you just have to ask around. Here's the full list; Limited: You can only play with them five times and then never again Restricted: You have to have good rep with their faction to play

Cliff Briscoe - Dino Bite gift shop - Limited Dale Barton - The Fort - Restricted Dennis Crocker - NCR Embassy Isaac - Gun Runners Jake Erwin - NCR Embassy Johnson Nash - Primm - Limited Jules - North Vegas Square Keith - Aerotech suite Lacey - Mojave Outpost - Limited Little Buster - Camp McCarran Q.Master Mayes - Camp Forlorn Hope - Limited - Restricted No-bark Noonan - Novac Ringo - Goodsprings/Crimson Caravan Camp Jed Masterson - Northern passage - Only available with Honest Hearts

Johnson Nash uses more face cards than other players which can break the strat I'll describe later. No-bark Noonan is the easiest to play against

Building your Deck

After offering to play with someone, and after setting your bet, you'll be shown two long rows of cards. The top row is the deck you'll play with in the game, the bottom row is the cards you won't be using

Use your arrow keys to move left and right, pressing W to add a card to your deck and A to remove it. Only select your 6's, 8's, 10's, and Kings. If you don't have enough of these to reach the 30 card minimum, add some Jacks or Queens. After that press F to play

The Controls

The descriptors of the controls listed along the bottom right can be a little vague or misleading, here's a better explanation;

Arrow keys to highlight a card in your available hand (these will be the cards revealed to you in a fan) W to select a card Q to discard a card (counts as a full turn) If you select a card and want to deselect it, press R. With no card selected, R is the forfeit button E lets you completely discard a caravan you've built

When you select a card it will move to the left side of the screen. This is where the game is played. Use the arrow keys to place your selected card in one of the six sections available (these are the caravans)

Number Cards and Face Cards

Ace - Value of 1 Number Cards - Value of 2-10

You can play face cards on your caravans or your opponents caravans, and they can do the same to you

Jack - When played on an Ace/Number Card, removes that card along with any card attached to it Queen - When played on an Ace/Number Card, supposedly reverses the direction of hand and changes suit of the hand. I'm not sure if it's just my game being buggy or if I'm using them wrong, but Queen cards don't seem to do anything for me. I use Queens as null cards: Just something to fill up my deck. If you know what they actually do I'll add a proper explanation here. King - When played on an Ace/Number card, doubles the value of that card. Multiple Kings can be attached to the same card Joker - When played on an Ace, removes all other non-face cards of the ace's suit from the table (except that card) When played on a Number Card, removes all other cards of that value from the table (except that card) You can place multiple Jokers on the same card to remove any card of that suit/value placed after you placed your initial Joker

Playing Caravan (6 8 10 K Strat)

This isn't a strategy I invented, I found it online. But I only every found it in posts that assumed I knew how to play already. So I wanted to put it here alongside a tutorial Also, just as a rule of measure for how weird this game is, we're only now getting to how to actually play the game ...

You're aiming to have the values of the bottom three card piles (your caravans) be higher than their matching top three values (your opponents caravans), while keeping your values between twenty and twenty-six (values outside of this are invalid).

You might notice that you can't place a card on a caravan that already has a card in it. This might be for a few reasons;

There's a difference between attaching a card to another, and stacking a card on top of another: Press the up and down keys to move along the various heights of a caravan. Face cards can only be attached, number cards can only be stacked

You can't place two number cards of the same value in the same caravan. But you can place as many of the same face card as you want in the same caravan

Place a 10 and a 6, or a 10 and an 8 in each caravan, attach a King to the 10 in 10/6 caravans, or to the 8 in 10/8 caravans. These will each bring your value up to 26. If you don't have any of the cards you need, discard something you don't want (like a Queen if you have any in your deck and are using them as null cards). It's worth having a handful of Jacks in your deck to use against your opponent

Beating No-Bark

I'm not certain, but I think No-Bark's deck has no 2's, Queens, or Jokers. He only has three to four Jacks, and two to three Kings. After you've placed your initial card in each of your caravans he'll use a Jack against you one or two times. Rarely three, very rarely none. After your first few moves he's very unlikely to use Jacks again. I only saw him using a king against three times out of thirty-five games. Sometimes he deliberately busts his caravans. I have no idea why he does this

The strat I use against him is to place 6's and 8's as my first card in each caravan, then replace any cards he removes. It's only after three to five moves that I actually start building my caravans. Unless he's particular nasty with his Jacks, or you're particularly unlucky with whichever cards you draw, you should be able to get to 26 in each of your caravans immediately. If not, don't forget to Jack or King any caravan of his that reaches 20

Conclusion

Caravan sucks

If I missed something or didn't explain something right I'll make edits

Peace and love

#berrytalks #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #fonv #caravan

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