#i had a pretty good handle on what was going on until the last fifth of the book when I completely gave up trying to understand any of it

[crowwithaccesstotheinternet]

just finished nona the ninth… what the fuck.

[hyewka]

HIHII hard hours open,, my specialty,, (😭) OK so last night i was thinking about. vv annoying bratty switch jun who honestly only agreed to be a sub cuz u wouldnt stop asking and he wasn’t expecting u to… well. be able to handle him and end up begging for him to take the lead in the end 😕 well that plan completely backfired as u end up having to tie him up/handcuff him and continuously edge the boy cuz he wouldn’t stop being a brat and let u have ur dom moment 😭 bro ends up nearly breaking the restraints (or he does?? up to u 😌) because of how frustrated he was because hes so used to cumming whenever he wants as dom :((( aaand then. comes switch jun cuz as soon as u untie him and say how good he was he just has this feral look in his eyes and completely flips you over on 4’s and pounds the shit out of u and saying shi like “u rlly thought i’d let u get away w all that? how about i do that to you now??” 😔 sigh so mean of him ..

warnings: praise kink, bondage, dacryphilia, pet names, non proofread filth, switch!jun

being a sub is something yeonjun is not used to, especially in his relationship with you. hes only had experiences where girls would ask to take a lead and still somehow find himself on top by the end, grunting ‘good girl’ and singing praises with an annoyingly smug face as he harshly thrusted in and out.

so when youve straddled yourself on top of his lap, grinding your half clothed pussy on his bulge as you heatedly kiss, breathing being a second priority, and in between, whisper “let me take the lead today” hungrily, he only nods, an overconfident smirk slipping into the kiss—not thinking you’d go through with it.

but you do.

“you’re actually going to tie me up?” he says with a tilt of his head, sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you look through your drawer.

his pants were unbuckled, and his lips were swollen red from your lipstick, his hair was untamed — he was ready to tease like he always did but you stopped his hand telling him that you’re going to get things from the drawer — which he only assumed to be a rope.

you finally find the thing you were looking for, dangling it in front of him squealing a little. “gonna handcuff you”

he only lightly scoffs, an amused smile appearing as his eyes focused on your pretty hands cuffing his hands together. “c’mon, are you actually going to go through with this?” he whines as he watches you pushing his jeans down completely, revealing more clearly his dick outlined in his boxers, rock hard.

you roll your eyes as your hands slip out his fat cock, precum leaking from the tip — ready to pump it. “jjun, shut up and let me get you off.”

you know hes not going to take you seriously, so instead of doing the usual quick pump and swallow, you roughly push your hand up and down at his girth a corner of your lips slowly forming up as his body tense up, slightly buckling into your hand with his close shut as he breathes out curses — he was close. when you stop your rigorous unapologetic speed, his eyes shoot open.

“w-what are you doing—shit, i’m close!” he yells frustrated, his hips now desperately buckling in and out of your hand.

when he notices a dark glint to your gaze, he naturally finds himself squirming and feeling himself turn small, even as he tries to break the handcuffs off his hands.

“you’re dangerously confident for someone cuffed”, you sneered, your hand still tightly restraining his cock from moving in and out. “jjun, i’m punishing you until you can be a good boy for me, alright? so try your best to cooperate.”

it proved to you edging jjun was a struggle, because though his usual confident dominance crashed and burned, he still thought he had a chance of taking over as he bit down on his bottom lip, holding back any moans that might slip out. but it eventually got to him, as you looked up at his face, his eyes clearly unable to hold back any tears.

“please”, he squeaked as you edged him again, for the fifth time, unable to control his lewd moans especially as you slip your hand up under his shirt, squeezing his nipples. “let me cum”

you almost coo at the sight— with his cheeks flushed red, his eyes wet with tears, and the messiness of his face with his swollen red tip right in your face. you pout as you pick up your pace again, deciding he did his best.

“hnng—y/n, g-go faster, go faster please!” you smile as you finally accomplish your goal of making him beg, generously opening your mouth, taking in his tip like a hungry dog as your hands harshly pump his cock — you dont expect to immediately feel a rush of warm thick liquid spurting in your mouth the moment your tongue touches his tip, but it does, and you feel accomplished as you swallowed his seed.

yeonjun smiled weakly, satisfied but worn out, as you got up.

“that was fun, huh?” you say heading to your counter to get the keys meant to unlock the cuffs.

your hear him hum in agreement and you smile. when you go over to unlock his cuffs, you look at his face, dried with tears—and give him a little peck on his lips for reassurance. “you did well baby” you whisper. you don’t notice, but yeonjuns breathing becomes heavier again.

as you unlock his cuffs, you continue to talk. “i mean, it was a little hard at first, but once you let out your pretty moans, i knew you were going to do well and let me take care of you pup.”

once the cuffs were off of his wrist, set right next to him on the bed, you near his ears again, “you’re such a good boy”

and that was yeonjun’s last straw.

his self control snapped, as he pulls you to fall on top of him then flipping you right on your back, slipping his tongue roughly in your mouth, kissing you like a hungry, rabid dog. “im gonna” hes busy kissing you as he tries to continue, “f-fuck you so bad”

you’re only shocked as you return his kiss, already moaning as his raw dick rubs in between your flimsy shorts. he quickly manages to turn you over, your ass shot up, with the side of your face buried in a pillow.

he pulls down your shorts along with your soaked panties, in no time, your bottom half being completely unclothed as he doesnt prepare you for his big cock thrusting right inside your sweet cunt, his hips relentlessly snapping back and forth, as his hand is fist full of your hair, keeping your head down.

“gonna fuck you all night” he grunts as he pushes into you. “thinking you can get away with what you did dumb kitten?”

you cant respond as your mind fogs up, eyes rolled to the back, mouth hung open as pornographic moans mindlessly fill up the room along with nude skin making rough contact.

yeonjun pulls your head up with the amount of hair he has in his hand, and now youre in all fours as he reaches to push his tongue in your mouth when you turn your head back to him—that was preciously stained with his cum.

his movement staggers as he reaches his climax once again, shooting his cum inside you. when you feel the warm seed spreading in you, it elicits your orgasm — causing you to chant “i’m cumming jjunie” like an animal, breathless.

when you both get quiet, only heaving as you breath in and out to catch your breaths, his dick still deeply buried inside your tight cunt — you unfortunately find that your precious edging was a booster of his stamina.

you think hes going to finally pull out but it only happens for a split second until he sharply thrusts into you again, his seed being fucked into you further.

“call me a good boy”, he whines, his tone being different than his sharp thrusts and his strong hold of your waist, “call me a good boy” he demands this time.

“nng—jjunie—y-you’re” a moan slips out of you again when his cock hits a good spot, “such a good boy”

when his third load is released inside of you, it being even thicker and more filling than the previous ones, you knew yeonjun was planning to teach you a long, long lesson.

[fremioneshufflepuff]

Sick day

Authors notes down below!

This is my first real Fremione piece! Feedback is appreciated and reblogs are always appreciated too!

Requested? Sure is!

You might notice Fred uses a cane, I did this because I believe that he would need it especially since he got crushed by a wall and well that would probably come with some setbacks with recovery and mobility in general.

This takes place about a year after the war and in my mind they’ve been together since their fifth and seventh years respectively

IF I SEE THIS ANYWHERE BUT TUMBLR, AO3 OR ITS BEING SOLD IT WILL BE TAKEN DOWN IMMEDIATELY. NO IFS AND OR BUTS

Ok I think that’s all! Enjoy!!

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

It wasn’t often that Fred found himself sick, but when it happened it hit out of nowhere. Today was one of those days. He woke up and noticed it was hard to move, assuming it was a flare up that still happened on occasion. He carefully sat up, and saw that the other side of the bed was empty, and heard Hermione downstairs in the kitchen. He found his cane propped up against the wardrobe and made his way downstairs, wand behind his ear.

Hermione heard the familiar footsteps and thud of the cane, and smiled when she saw her fiancé. “Morning Freddie. Flare up again?” she asks as he meets her by the stove, where she’s cooking breakfast. “Mmm I think so.” He replies, voice slightly hoarse, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her t-shirt clad shoulder.

“You don’t sound good either love, take a seat.” “Mione, if I sit we both know I won’t get back up. I gotta move around a little bit.” “I know dear, but I’m worried you might be sick.” “Sick? What gives you that idea?” Fred asks, with a small cough. Hermione gives him a look as he sighs and props himself against the counter top.

“Dammit, today of all days too. Supposed to have a big sale at the shop this week before term starts up again and we have to get stock set up.” “George, Lee, and Verity will have it handled. This isn’t the first time one of you has been out sick.” She says, as she plates the food and walks to the table, where Fred joins her.

The eat and enjoy the comfortable silence surrounding them, until Fred starts coughing again. Hermione gives him a concerned look and he just smiles. “Love. I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle. That’s what the healer said last week.” He says, as she shakes her head. “A lot can happen in a week you know. Let me get the thermometer.” She says, as she leaves the kitchen towards the bathroom. She comes back shortly after finding what she needs and takes the cap off.

“Is that the ear one or the tongue one?” “Ear. The tongue one I think is lost.” “Alright. Get it done and over with then.” Fred says dejectedly, as she sticks the thermometer into his right ear and then the left. “You’ve got a fever. 39° C. Not a horrible one, but one nonetheless.” “Blimey. That might explain the aches, cause those usually show up in the winter, not summer.” He says clearing his throat, trying to suppress a cough.

“Freddie, go lay down. You’re looking a little pale.” “Mione, I’m fine. It’s a cold. Nothing more.” “If you say so, but if I see you wrapped up in a blanket with a heating charm.” “You won’t. Now let’s do these dishes.” He says as he levitates them to the sink, where he goes to start scrubbing them.

The pair get ready for the day, and Hermione sends word that Fred wouldn’t be in that day. She got a reply from George saying they had it covered. She hears Fred’s voice from the living room and finds him wrapped up in a blanket on the couch.

“Hermione, I think you were right. Pretty sure I got the flu.” He says, coughing again. “I’ll get some cough medicine and get some tea going. You just lay there and rest love.” She says, as she puts the kettle on, and she finds a peppermint tea bag to put in the water once it’s done boiling. She grabs that and the cough medicine and heads back to Fred.

He sits up and accepts the medicine first, grimacing as it goes down. “Blegh. That’s definitely not how cherries are supposed to taste.” He says as Hermione sits next to him. She gives him the cup of tea and he sips it before placing it on the coffee table.

“Well looks like we’re staying in today. We can thank Teddy or one of your customers for this I suppose.” Hermione says with a chuckle as she summons her copy of an Agatha Christie book she had started. “Mmhmm looks like it. Little buggers. Do you mind reading out loud?” “Not at all.” She says, as she thumbs through to where her bookmark is and starts reading.

They stay like this for a while, Fred interjecting comments and theories of who’s the killer. It’s not until the comments haven’t come in a few minutes that Hermione realizes he’s fast asleep, he feet resting on her legs, and he’s snoring gently. She smiles and continues to read, checking on him occasionally but letting him stay where he is so he can get some much needed rest.

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 38: Family Dinner

The kids celebrate the fruits of victory and glory in their first major battle, a big dinner that they bribed and bartered for and a large barbeque on base, including all the meal prep that goes into it. I had a lot of fun figuring out what everyone would do in this, and @canyouhearthelight was a lot of help.

Xavier 

His phone was buzzing and he answered it. “Casey, I don’t know where the charcoal is, Shiloh and Vergil aren’t back from the store yet. How’s the meal prep coming?” 

“I’m glad Mark’s as quick as he is with magnetic pulls because if he wasn’t Molly’s knife handling would already have us regretting that Shiloh isn’t here. How’s the pit coming?” 

“Jonathan grabbed the entrenchment tools and shoved me out of the way. He pretty much took it over - it’s almost done.” 

“The grill?” 

“Fuck’s sake, Casey, the suburban white girl is coming out, I’ll go check.” 

“This is the first party we’ve gotten to put on as a group in ages, let me have the control freak shit.”

“Speaking of control, Echo?”

“Her marinade is going great, whatever you’re grilling is going to be slathered in something awesome, chill.” 

“Cool.” He hung up and started jogging towards the armory - on their last leave, they’d swiped some good quality whiskey from a liquor store as a trade to get one of the mechanics down in maintenance to weld some scrap into a workable grill. Now it was time to pick it up. He had only gone about thirty yards before turning around and tapping Jonathan on the shoulder. “Hey, Jonathan. I’m gonna take over from you for a sec. I can finish up the pit, I’m gonna need you to go grab the grill.” 

As Jonathan casually hopped out of the pit and then handed Xavier the shovel, the two boys clapped each other on the shoulder. “Gonna be good food tonight, finally.”

“Hell yeah, brother.” Once Jonathan ran off and he was left working on the pit, he got another text, and he snatched the phone off his belt, this time noticing it was from Mark, on their group text with Echo.

Mark: alright, confirmation two weeks later, Smith and Franks have indeed found Echo’s little sister. Files are apparently available for your detection, Echo. 

Echo responded less than a minute later.

Echo: I talked to Vergil. If Imperator keeps tabs and gets her to where she’s safe, I’ll play along with Franklin. 

Xavier grinned. Everything was going their way. Supposedly, more people were going to be arriving late today, or maybe early tomorrow, and depending on when everything was finally ready, that meant the newbies were going to get one hell of a jumping in. 

He tore at the ground with the entrenchment tool, widening and deepening the pit just a little more until Vergil texted: We have the charcoal. Shiloh’s driving back - they got a bunch more stuff for us to eat as well. 

Molly

Her hand slipped on the knife while slicing the potatoes. She felt an abrupt pull and heard Mark swear as her fingers were saved for the fifth time by someone else’s super power. 

Casey chuckled. “Okay. So when we buy the big fortress for the whole corps, the kitchen knives all have to be steel rather than ceramic.”

Molly flushed. “Or we could get a mandolin slicer.” 

Casey grunted. “Or we could get a mandolin slicer, yeah. Or both. Actually.” 

“Also, for the record, isn’t this kind of problem usually because of shitty knives rather than unskilled cooks?” Mark asked. “I seem to remember my mom saying something about that.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, but we’re all using the same bad knives in this kitchen, and you’ve had to lean on your powers once to save your fingers, you haven’t had to save me at all. It’s not that these knives aren’t making it worse, Molly, and we absolutely need to get a proper sharpener in here, but like. You haven’t had a lot of practice in a kitchen, you know?”

Molly shrugged, embarrassed. “Yeah, only child, I guess.”

Casey nodded. “That explains it. We’re gonna get in more practice, you’re fine. Here, hold a little more like this.” She walked over and corrected Molly’s grip. “Should make it a little easier. I’m gonna finish getting the cornbread into the oven, then…actually can you swap me and make the honey butter? Just whip warm butter in with honey? I’ll take over veggie duty.”

“Thank god,” Molly heaved in relief, laying the knife down. “Pretty sure I can’t hurt myself with a whisk and a bowl.”

Echo grunted. “I’ll run slaw once I’m done with the marinade.”

Molly felt lost, and walked over to where the butter was, threw it in the bowl, and lathered it in honey before beginning to whisk. “So, new people?”

“Yeah, apparently the new conscripts are coming in either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Four of them, I heard.” Echo said, casually indulging in her habit of disclosing information she wasn’t supposed to have. 

Molly didn’t miss the way Mark’s head snapped over. “When did you hear that?”

“Shortly before we started cooking, actually. I wanted to tell you and Xavier, but we were all running around.” 

“No worries. Glad it was here and not in front of staff.” 

“Heh. I would never make you look unprepared in front of staff.” She shrugged. “Everything else about them must be on-paper, eyes-only, so I don’t have it.” 

Molly shrugged. “Music tonight?”

“Yours or Xavier’s?” Mark asked. “Either way, yes. It’s a party. On our turf.” 

“Bit of both - how much dubstep violin combination have you heard?” 

“We’ve got live music now? Praetorian original? Everything about that is awesome.” Casey’s voice came from behind her, even as Molly heard the oven open and shut. The other girl crossed the kitchen and took up a knife next to Mark.  “That’s genuinely cool, Molly. I’m so excited to hear it!” 

Molly flushed. “Really?”

“Really. It’s cool that you can do that. It’s awesome that you’re building that up. It’s cool that it’s something we can do to welcome new people in. It’s awesome that you and Xavier are doing that together, and it's amazing that in the midst of the hell that is Imperator and the war we’ve been drafted into, you’re able to hold onto that part of yourself. I’m proud of you.” 

Molly looked down as she kept whisking the honey butter. As she thought about it, it did seem that everyone held to something. Casey and Mark still practiced what parts of their faith they could, with Mark maintaining little hints of hobbies he had and Casey keeping her skirts and her love of cooking. Xavier had his hobbies and music, Echo her fashion sense, Shiloh their refusal to get their hearing surgically repaired even now that the mutations made it possible. Even now, Jonathan, Vergil, and Shiloh were being encouraged to find things that they could have for themselves that Imperator couldn’t challenge, couldn’t force, couldn’t use. She was happy to make the music hers. 

Casey jumped as Mark made a choked noise and a fast gesture, leading to Casey’s knife sliding back and forth rapidly. “Oy vey! All that shit to Molly about how good you are in the kitchen!”

“I got distracted! Phone buzzed.”

Molly smirked. “A true master wouldn’t get distracted.”

“I thought you said you were an only child.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Echo snorted. “You didn’t need much time to start smarting off like a proper little sister, that’s all. Anyway. Casey, who texted and what’d they say?”

“Shiloh and…they’re here.”

“Got it. Uh…Shiloh and Verg are coming up, so I’ll head down and light the charcoal. Once it’s ready then I’ll come back up. Xavier and Jonathan are gonna start grilling once the grill is ready.” 

Molly stood away. “Honey butter look ready?” 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, looks perfect. Uh…we got the potatoes chopped, get them boiling and once they’re boiled can you get them mashed? And get the cornbread out of the oven when the timer goes off.” 

She headed off and Molly started gathering up the potatoes into a pot, filling it with water and setting it on the stove to boil. “Okay, so…”

Shiloh rushed in, already setting another massive pot on the stove to boil for macaroni, and signing. Vergil was signing back, taking up a knife before being casually displaced by Shiloh. They began slashing veggies rapidly for Molly and Vergil to glaze. Echo took her leave to carry down the meat - grabbing Vergil to help her with the process. 

Molly glanced at Mark. “So. What do you think’s gonna happen when the new people get here?”

“I’m taking all that a step at a time,” he confessed. “But I expect we’re gonna get them situated to working with us, like we did with everyone else. Probably easier for them than it was for you, since they’re coming into a big meal and not getting scooped after a massacre.” He winced apologetically. “And easier than it was for Vergil, since they aren’t getting straight up black bagged and we already crossed off Volkov.” 

Even now, having actually stood to battle and killed, it still made her shudder how casually the older Praetorians discussed having killed other humans. How Volkov’s death was always discussed as simply an unpleasant chore rather than anything truly upsetting. 

“I get that.” She said, softly. “I mean - do you have any idea of how or when our next mission will be?”

“No. I know that we have our official ranks, but at a guess that was expedited as a show of good faith by Franklin, not preparation. This war is on the enemy’s timeline, not ours.” 

Molly winced at that reminder. “Okay.” She finished glazing a row of asparagus. “Did we need anything else?”

“Uh….Shuck that corn if you could, then I think I’m gonna wrap it in foil, actually.” 

The timer went off and Mark wrapped his hands in mitts to retrieve it.

***

Vergil

Xavier was scratching small patches of new skin on his arms in ways that indicated Shiloh had had to work on small burns from grilling, and everyone was helping bring out massive heaps of food. Curtis and Leon had been flatly forbidden from being involved in meal prep, but finally sat down at the feast - along with a small group of base staff. A squad of troopers who had been involved in helping smuggle various cooking material onto base, who Curtis had deployed with before the hell of Imperator and who he had vouched for, who were, even now, standing in full battle gear with bayonets fixed as though daring anyone to interfere with the meal. Their pay was in a share of the food.

Vergil, for his part, was in sensory heaven, fully amping his sense of taste with a slowly enhanced control of his powers to savor every bite, heaping his plate high. Every once in a while, Casey would gesture at the fire and make it flare for a bit of light, but for the most part, they were focusing on getting more food out. 

“So, wait, the Collins - they’re gonna be a good place for my sister, right?”

“Yeah. They’re gonna be fine for your sister. Best foster home I ever had.” Echo had asked him now, a few times, and he was happy to assure her. 

Echo smiled, and laughed. “Goddamn. We’re winning today. Given how often shit goes sideways, let’s enjoy it before any higher power notices.” 

Vergil started laughing, and he could hear Curtis and the troopers talking. “Wait, hang on,” one of the soldiers was saying. “The oldest one is seventeen? I knew the Praetorians were young, but jesus.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I knew Imperator was conscripting teenagers. I didn’t know…How old is the little blonde one?”

“Thirteen.”

“Fuck, man. We working for one of those West African warlords these days? Sarge, how long have you known?”

“Since I got forced to train them. They’re good kids.” 

Another man spoke up. “Fuck me, it’s like the Congo thing all over.”

“Nah, it’s worse.” 

“I have kids older than the two youngest.”

“No, Corporal. Your daughter is the same age as the boy who gives the orders to that little outfit, and the girl who manages all their intelligence gathering. Give you an idea?” 

Vergil forced himself to listen into something else as he shoved more cornbread into his mouth. He didn’t want to think about how much easier someone else’s life was. The cornbread that Casey had made was perfect - smooth, sweet, warm, and the honey butter melted over it perfectly. “Casey…this is amazing.”

“Thanks, but actually, Molly made the honey butter.” 

The ribs were spectacular. Sticky, sweet, and spicy. Echo hadn’t been overhyping the sauce she’d made. Nor had they underpaid the bribe. 

Shiloh was talking to Jonathan - and he was proud to say he could finally follow their rapid signing. “Jonathan, damnit, I know it doesn’t hurt, you’re still burned and I want to fix it, hold still.” Jonathan held still as Shiloh put their hands over his arm and froze for a moment, then let go.

Jonathan abruptly hugged Shiloh, picked them up, and put them on a bench, throwing a stack of food in front of them. “Eat. You haven’t all day, any more than I have, and I know healing takes a lot out of you.”

“You’re lucky you’re my brother.”

“That’s why I’m the one who makes you do stuff, yeah. No one else can touch you.” 

Vergil smirked. He’d had that explained to him a few times. Praetorians were “family” - Jonathan and Shiloh were siblings, as much or more than blood could make anyone, and he pitied anything that tried to tell them they weren’t. 

Leon came over. “How’re you doing?”

“Amazing, Leon. This is perfect. Thanks.”

“I honestly didn’t do any of this. This is all Mark and Echo, honestly.” Unspoken for a moment was the dreadful truth everyone knew, that Mark had told everyone, even Vergil. At this point, Leon was well aware of the capricious nature of Imperator and her place in it. “There are several of you that myself and Curtis are going to ask about legal guardianship of, if you want it. Not that it really matters, because you’ll be legal adults before the war ends. But it means that legally, if we can make it happen, we’ll have more latitude to negotiate for you in cover story stuff like school. Plus we can open up bank accounts for you outside Imperator and put money in for college that Imperator can’t touch.” 

“Which ones?”

“You. Molly. Jonathan. Shiloh. Echo.”

“Aren’t Shiloh’s parents still alive?”

Leon gave a wan smile. “Curtis explained to the squad who are about to be deployed as security to Aventine, how Shiloh came to be a Praetorian. I suspect that’s temporary. Accidents happen. Especially in Imperator.” 

“For us?” Vergil was confused.

“After that last battle? Even if someone wasn’t morally disgusted by what happened there, Shiloh saved a lot of people whose life is being able to act effectively and let them remain able. Just being on Shiloh’s good side means something to people now.”

Vergil rolled that over. “Yeah, uh…go for it. So, hey. Question. Do you know anything about the new conscripts? Echo says we’ve got four coming?”

“You know more than I do, please review ‘Stricken and Gideon are doing what they can to lock me out.’”

Vergil winced as Leon stood up. “Enjoy the night. I’m going to go grab a drink with Curtis. Have fun with the others. You guys earned this.” 

Vergil jogged over as Xavier stood up and grabbed Molly, who was already unlimbering her violin.

“PRAETORIANS!” Xavier thundered, his voice shaking the tables with unnatural volume. “We fought the aliens in their own ship, and we kicked their asses! We’re now enjoying the fruits of our victory, and to celebrate, me and Molly put something together, a quick reminder of what we can do with our powers when the war ends.”

Vergil froze. Was Molly already putting on a concert? Already? 

A thrum that started in his bones and slowly picked up to something fast, something that got his blood pumping, only to have Jonathan twirl him out of his seat and get all the Praetorians stomping around. Then Molly twirled her bow and added in, the bow whipping back and forth across the strings and filling the air with more music, music that made the air itself vibrate as Molly amplified it, intertwining the sounds with what Xavier was creating, with their own movements, with everything.

The troopers started to chant, and started joining in. 

Vergil grabbed a case of soda and swigged, twirled by Shiloh. Then by Echo. At one point, Molly, seeming to want to show off, set her violin down and spun herself into a dance with both Casey and Echo and let her power alone keep the echoes of her music flowing through the night until she cut back out, swept up her violin and cut right back into the music without skipping a beat, timing in with her own echoes. Xavier jumped in the dance with Shiloh, first. 

Mark and Casey danced by the fire, Casey flaring the fire behind them, and Mark casually repelling them away from the iron of the grill to give them more distance than would otherwise have been possible on little jumps. 

Vergil stopped, grabbed a little more food, and ran back to the dancing, and one of the troopers pointed. 

Curtis was picking up his sidearm. 

Vergil glanced over and Curtis shook his head. “Couple staff. Not your problem. We’ll tell them you’re not available. Promise.” 

Gideon and Stricken were approaching. Vergil went back to the dance, swinging in time with Casey. Then with Mark.

He saw Mark and Xavier dancing for a moment, then found himself with Jonathan, barely keeping up with the larger boy, who abruptly, seemingly just to show off, took a step back and vaulted the firepit in a backflip. 

Then Vergil began picking up a thrum of rotor blades and turned around.  A helicopter was coming in. 

He pointed out. He could hear Mark swearing. Then Xavier elevated everyone’s voices. “Alright, everyone. Look alive. We got some new siblings to welcome.” 

[beautyofsorrow]

2, 4, 7, 18, 46

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

evil. evil question. why would you make me think about my multichaps. ok so i tried the intensive outlining thing, i really did, and it flopped so bad because i'm pretty sure i have adhd which, among many other things, means i need novelty in order to stay interested in a thing. but i also need STRUCTURE so i know where i'm GOING or i'll never FINISH so i have started doing this thing where i have the vague outline of what happens and then go from there. for without anesthetic, i had a pretty good idea of what i thought the first four chapters entailed before i ever sat down at the word doc, just so i'd have a measure of security behind this wildly ambitious idea. turns out it was only enough for three chapters and i am spinning my wheels a little on the fourth/fifth/sixth, but it's going so much better than my last multichap did, and i haven't abandoned it like my first. so yay! it's my own version of what i call the ann patchett method of drafting (see "the getaway car" in this is the story of a happy marriage for more details on that, dear mutuals who are not zanna). more adhd, but just rigorous enough to keep me from walking out. this seems to be working, but it's also nerve-wracking because oh no, what if i get ?? chapters deep and i've written myself into a corner? (the answer: girl calm down, it's fanfiction and you're supposed to be having fun)

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

i rifle through the fridge at 10pm looking for a very specific food that does not exist and then get mad at myself when i realize i am gonna have to write it into existence.

see also: my love for the characters (/horny and emotional). a desperate need for non-romantic sexually intimate relationships in media. upsetting plotholes in canon. deranged character dynamics. weird takes on popular tropes. religious trauma. family estrangement. being queer. i also read a lot of books and find plenty of sparks ideas juice inside them, usually in their style and execution. i looooooooove studying form and how it influences a book's plot.

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

whatever best serves the story! and/or whatever i feel i can handle best in a given moment. for example, the first time i tried my hand at sex pollen (drown me in glitter, glitter and gold) i had no fucking clue how to write from a sex-pollened person's POV, so the answer was to stay in la'an's head the entire fic. that let me get really comfy with the story so that by the time i had to write her being all high on horny juice, it flowed much more easily than if i had started in una's POV, who's dosed from the start. also, it was a much better, funnier, and stronger fic that way. la'an's mortification really came through and allowed me to hit a lot of comedic beats i wouldn't have been able to hit due to una's temporary plunge into angst.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

i do all three lol. mostly during and after. sometimes i'll have one from the start and it will stick; other times it will change to something else halfway through. many many times i will come screaming into ur DMs complaining about being done with a fic but not having title tags or summary. i started keeping a file in my notes app of lines of poetry i love, and i'll occasionally plunder them for titles. i'll also yoink song lyrics (just give me trust and watch what'll happen), riff on character quotes or episode titles (without anesthetic, ad astra), or rotate the fic in my head until something appropriately vibe-y presents itself (dress me down and hold me open, aces wild, stitch)

46. How would you describe your style?

contemplative, lyric and/or comedic (depending on the fic), & character-driven

[yellowcry]

Who am I if I can't carry it all?

Luisa is strong, she is always strong.

Until she isn't.

Luisa is strong. She's always strong.

 

Abuela says it since her fifth birthday. Since her gift ceremony. Luisa is easily carrying everything what people ask her to carry. 

 

Even if she can't stand of her feet after whole working day. People are relying on her, who would do all this hard job if it's not Luisa? Who can lift brickets to built a new house? Who can reroute the river when senior Palo wants to grow a water plant? Who can grab this donkeys, who's somehow always running away from barn? (Doesn't Luisa fix the walls like.. two weeks ago?) Who can move churche so sermon can happening with a sunshine? Yes, Luisa is totally fine with all of this. They got their gifts to help those who are weaker than them. And Luisa is stronger than anyone else, even in her family, she can handle it! Working hard is her destiny, it's everything she is.

 

Luisa misses times when Abuela actually thanked her. When Luisa just get her gift. Abuela looked at her with an adoration on the face. But time is going on. Luisa already forget when she heared this words for the last time. Not only from Abuela, but from anyone in general. She really wants to hear it again, but she understand that people don't have to thank her for her bare minimum. Maybe if she tries a little bit harder, it can be out of her normal sheclude? 

 

 

Sometimes Luisa wish that she would have a pretty gift like Isabela. Then people will look at Luisa and say that she is little princess. But she know that it isn't possible. Princess don't spent their days in sweat and mud. Princess don't carry donkeys. A village kid calls her a "Princess of the Donkeys." Luisa bites her lips and blink to hold the tears back. She is strong. Strong people never cry. She swallows resentment in her throat and grabs another donkey.

 

She cries all night.

 

Luisa learns to cry without sound. She knows how to drown out the sobs with a pillow. Because she is not allowed to cry, crying is a sign of weakness. Luisa is not allowed to have a weakness. And she never let herself to be weak in the public. Only inside the walls of her room. Where no one can hear her. Еxcept Dolores, but she never says anything.

 

Keep working, it's the only thing you're good in. Even if your own shaking hands is heavier than every cargo that you had to carry in fourteen years. Even if your head so dizzy that you just wants to fall asleep. Abuela says that magic is strong. 

 

Luisa can't fall asleep for the half of night, tossing and turning restlessly in bed, she hopes that Dolores is already sleeping. She jumps off her bed a few times and goes to her simulators. Just to make sure that everything was fine. All of them a lighter than a feather. There's no this twitching feeling under her skin. She doesn't feel weak even for a slighest moment.

 

You're carrying a table with food. Then, for a second you feel something strange. Your hands start to aching, pain ends before you even realize that it's here. But this moment feels like everything. Your breath is stuttering, you still remember how being weak feels. You know it since the time before your ceremony. You want to sit down, there's still so many chores to do. It looks like a few people notice it, so you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. Mirabel is running in with a scream, so you're saved.

 

Then she starting to lose her gift. And it feels so awful, her power is a part of her. Her whole personality based on it. So Luisa keeps trying to use her simulators again and again, until her palms are redder than ribbon in her hair. She keeps crying in her room not even willing to hide her sobbing until it's time for dinner. She's trying to smile, but simply can't. The fact that soon a whisperind start to spread across the room doesn't help. Luisa notice that everyone is looking from her to Mirabel. She's clenching her hands and looking down. Do they know? 

 

Dinner turns to be a completely disaster. And Mirabel is nowhere to be found. Later, Luisa hears screaming in the hall. Abuela is scolding Mirabel. And Luisa wants to stop it. Mira is doind nothing wrong. Luisa is the one who complain about this pressure. She is losing her gift because magic is grounding her. But she can't move, can't open her mouth to say something. Crackling makes it hard to think, hard to breath. Walls are falling down, Luisa's head is aching from all of the noices. 

 

It's loud, it's so loud? Does it how Dolores usually feel? You're looking around, trying to find what you have to fix at first. Walls are crackling, floor is crackling, roof is crackling, family is crackling. You gasps, because it's too loud, to heavy, to hard to keep yourself together. You feel like you can't move. You're looking at how Mirabel's trying to get the candle. You want to scream like mom and dad, you want to run to her and grab her to pull out of here. But your throat dries up, your body is too heavy to move it.

 

It seems like this day is endless. Casita falls. Now they don't have a house. Because she didn't stop her abuela. Well, Luisa built enough houses in this village. She knows how to do it. She can handle it, she is strong...

 

Or, rather, she was strong.

 

Realization hits Luisa. She isn't strong anymore. But then... Who is she? She sit down leaning on the piece of wall, looking at her big muscular hands. This hands are made for a hard work. And now they can't do it. Luisa is closing her eyes frowning. Even her own body feels so heavy. Is it how regular people feel?

 

She sigh, thinking about what she can do now. Everyone else is cleaning ruins from their home, Luisa probably should help, but she's too stressed. She isn't used to working with others, expesially with her family. And she's scared of it. Two days ago she was able to clean all of this and built a new house in a one day. Well, if we exclude helping the village. But now she's barely can lift anything. Then mom's screaming that Mirabel is missing amd Luisa feels relief for a second, she has more time to come to her senses. But then a feeling of guilty covers her. Is she really happy that her hermanita is missing? What kind of hermana would do something like that? They keep searching all night, until Mira rode on a horse with Abuela and... tío Bruno? Can this day become even weirder? On other hand, it's already a new day, so maybe it's pretty normal, compared to yesterday. Mira assures everyone that they can rebuilt their home together, and Luisa feels relief for a moment.  She's trying to move a huge wreckage wall, but it's too heavy. Then her hermanita run to her and helping, Luisa looks at her with suprise, because it feels so much easier when somebody else is helping. She bites her lip when Mirabel says that she is more than her gift. Luisa not so sure, since she doesn't know who she is apart from her strenght. But her chest became warm from this words.

 

****

 

The next hald of year is very chaotic. With all this work and moving from house to house. Luisa's usually the one who takes responcibility for carrying bigger stuff. Turns out she's still stronger than anyone else, because her power might be done, but her body used to lifting and carrying something heavy. But it still not the same. Because things is actually heavy, and everybody keep asking if she's need a break. 

 

Luisa takes some time to understand what she likes apart from physical exercises, but she still can't find anything. Maybe cute dresses simular to what Isa weared before? But Luisa doubts that shops have clothes of her size, and Isabela's dresses is buried. And they are too small anyway. Or animals. Something like unicorns. They are pretty and gentle, but probably too soft for Luisa. So most of the time she's working or hanging around with her hermanas. Mirabel seems to be the one who make sure that everyone is taking care of herself. Including a full days off. And since Luisa is not allowed to spent it alone after she sprains her shoulder, somebody else is always looking after her.

 

Luisa hears that Abuela talks to every member of the family privately, she can't explain how worried it makes her. What if abuela would be mad or dissapointed because Luisa didn't tried to hold Casita together before its fall? Luisa really wanted to, but it was so loud, and cracks were everywhere. She just didn't know where exactly she needed to be at that moment. She really wishes to be able to be everywhere at the same time.

 

Abuela... apologises to her?

 

Luisa let out a sigh of relief as she realizes that Abuela isn't mad at her for letting Casita fall apart. She says that she put Luisa under so much pressure, but never wondered about her feelings. Then abuela thanks her, saying that no words can ever describe how much Luisa have done for this fourteen years. Abuela can't finish her speech, because Luisa hugs her as hard as she can without her gift, feeling tears in the corners of her eyes.

 

 

Getting her gift back is the best thing Luisa ever feels. Emptiness inside of her starts to fill with well-known magic. She strains her muscles to check them. Then grab a pots with a cactus. Yes! She is strong again! Maybe she has to go and does a lot of work that she abadoned. When donkey trows her into the hammock, she decides to have a day off by her free will for the first time. 

[kingeorgey]

the reception to ‘Faithless and Mystic, Faint as Can Be’ on ao3 has blown me away. i know i don’t reply to comments or reblogs (i get really anxious replying to comments) but they mean the WORLD to me. i obsess over each and every one.

as my thanks for reaching 1,000 hits, i present to you:

Things About “Faithless and Mystic, Faint as Can Be” that Only the Author Knows

1.) I kind of hate the title because it doesn’t fit anymore (see #2)

2.) This book was never meant to be a book. It was going to be a roughly 15,000 word 3-chapter fic, purely about the group’s first meeting post-cyclone. I was as shocked by The Kiss as the audience, and that’s when I made it a full length fic.

3.) I don’t know why I decided to put poems at the beginning of the chapters. Just for fun, originally. Now I feel like I’m committed. The first 3 chapters, I had the poems decided beforehand. Since then I either do it towards the end, or right before I upload. Is it pretentious? Slightly. But I’m committed now.

4.) I do not write characters if I don’t know their favorite ice cream flavor. Whether it’s Ricky or Penny, or the bully with one line in chapter 5. There are some tossups, though.

5.) Ricky’s dad, Henri, is actually Henri-Pierre Potts. He and Victoria met at a French-Canadian speaking university in Sudbury. Uranium was only a 40 minute drive from their post-uni jobs, and real estate was cheap, so they got a nice house and stayed there. Victoria’s maiden name is Charlotte.

6.) The Potts are not devout Catholics whatsoever, just put Ricky at St. Cassians because they make good money and figured it would be a better education. Ricky’s disability (better put, how others treated them) played a big role in their shift away from the religion- will be expanded upon in future chapters or a future oneshot.

7.) 99% of this book has been written with Peaky Blinders in the background.

8.) Mischa is roughly 6’5. Eastern Europeans tend to be pretty tall and I come from a tall family- I thought all boys were 6’3 minimum until I got into high school and 6’0 was considered tall. (I’m just under 5’11 myself)

9.) I purposely do not mention Noel’s height, or whether he is cisgender.

10.) I cannot, for the life of me, write Constance Blackwood. Ocean is a struggle, pretty neck and neck with Noel. The other three are extremely easy to write.

11.) Penny’s height is never explicitly stated, either. It’s mentioned that she’s small, yes- but, was I talking about her literal appearance?

12.) Victoria Potts cannot handle raw meat in any capacity. If Henri does not do the cooking (which, in chapter 4, we learn he does) the Potts don’t eat meat. My older sister is like this, I find it an interesting quirk.

13.) The kids are going to have a homecoming dance / end of autumn dance. I know that’s American, but I’m the author and my fanfictions are dictatorships. The Ricky and Penny interaction is going to be gloriously teenage boyish.

14.) Titling the chapters is the absolute last thing I do, and it’s one of my favorite parts.

15.) So far, one of my favorite moments as an author has been the ceramic plate metaphor in chapter 4 (I think) when Mischa stays the night at Ricky’s. This fic has really pushed my writing beyond what I thought it could be and even though it’s kind of stupid, the ceramic plate thing made me so proud when I typed it out. I’ve been consistently writing fanfiction since fifth grade (started with a One Direction trilogy, don’t ask) and now I’m in my third year of college. I’ve come a long way and I really do enjoy writing fanfic in my free time, it’s nice to write something I’m so insanely proud of!

That’s all for now- thank you endlessly for the support! 🤍

[makahimetenshi]

Follow me inside the wastelands - Chapter 3 -Arthur Maxson x Female Sole Survivor Fanfic

This one will be a long fic with a lot of chapters, I already write the concepts. Since I don’t play as Nora in Fallout 4 because Nate for me is the real protagonist the personalities and ideas are pretty fanbased from another fanfics I read

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and coments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive coments of wanting to know what happends next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

Arthur went to see Nora and the paladin squad leave on the Prydwen that morning, he had no obligation, actually he had better things to do that morning that be around her but last night he feeled…close to her…and he didn’t salute or talk or anything he just appeared when the ventibird was on the station and make an Ad Victoriam sign to her.

If the other paladin and his squad wanted to take it too, the better.

She responded with the Ad Victoriam sign, stranged, before raising flying and disappeared.

Arthur sighted, hopping she was okay in the journey, its not like he can protect her but…

Two weeks passed, the logs and communications from Hardware Town were…good, excelent, amazing news! Yes they needed and asked for many resources but it was normal since they were just installing.

First the sleeping bags, Nora insisted in making separate resting rooms or at least the one they designated separate in sections for brotherhood and minutemen so everybody can have their own belonings to not be public sharing, the brotherhood have sleeping bags and the minutemen beds with matress.

Second, the automated turrets  for the outsides and the laser one for the insides.

Third, water.

Fourth, ammo, shit tons of ammo

Fifth, the arrival of the second paladin and his squad, they were going on a mission with the Sentinel and one of his companions to blow up the supermutant settlements around because they were getting their attention and moving around was difficult by being shot by those green bastards.

He didn’t receive any news about that mission until…three days later

Success: all the brotherhood members were at least alive, two knights were injured but considering they were facing at least 10 supermutants by settlement it was okay, just fine, a few bruises and pain in the bones for a while…

Maxson was so impressed, he hadn’t been this amazed by someone since she destroyed the institute a year ago.

He did receive an alert from one of the paladins, that Nora companion this time was again the sniper from the take over Hardware Town operation, that it would be a nice idea to investigate him…just because he warned them about being carefull with Nora external connection, althought even if the men delivered it.

Well hell take note over that MacCready guy…

Six: this time, they cleaned the raiders around the place, 3 raiders settlements in just a one hit operation for each, the paladin descrived it like smashing the door down and start to trow granades and rocket lauchers, the sniper taking down the leaders and stronger ones, and another guest invited by the sentinel, a fighter named Cait that just went inside the explosions to take advantage and the chaos and twist necks and legs.

Okay another one to investigate he supposed…apparently Nora was a super cool person with a lot of easiness to make friends and allys…that was nice to know, she was nice nice.

Seven: not Nora and paladins squad work, but the third paladin squad started to do patrols around to clean the roads, anyway the news about the brotherhood presence around that point of Boston was spreading, even caught Diamond City attention since now the roads were free of dangers, finally the Diamond City guards can rest a bit of shooting at something 24/7.

One of his soldiers give him a newsletter called Publick Occurrences where they mention the action of the brotherhood over the roads, special mention to the blue vault woman they new since so long.

That piece of paper over his hand…even if it was written by a…non educated citizen of Commonwealth…filled him with pride, people were starting to notice them, their service and adchievements. This never happened before, he never had a proof of the peoples opinions, people he was supposed to care and protect and now thanks to Nora…the paper shake In his hands as he take a big breath.

He wanted to thank her.

Arthur Maxson was indeed in debt with her for destroying the institute but this was…so gratifying…

He sent a ventibird to pick her up and bring her to the Prydwen, he even prepare another dinner with a big feast for her delicate appetite but…she never came, instead of the sentinel one of the paladins arrived.

Stating that Nora said she was too bussy to comeback now.

His hearth crushed what the hell this was the first time someone…rejected his…his…what was this anyway? And approach? A gesture? A message? A communication!? He almost wanted to cry out of frustration because he was so eager to see her…

The elder got sosososososososo mad that this time he did the freacking investigations, not because he cared with who she was but…well he cared but it was intelligence work okay? Before the rejection it didn’t matter but now it does.

A gunner and…a fighter of a raider club? What the hell.

Inmature, he recognized how inmature he was being but he was mad of being…changed over so lowrace civilians like that’s…

4 weeks later…it was operational, there was indeed caravans moving, coming in and out the rutes around Hardware Town safe and sound, the base become a post between roads giving people safety to move, if things get complicated in the forest they will run to the roads guarded by the Brotherhood of Steel to seek protection, when they will be given.

It was just a Brotherhood of Steel base, no expending the night inside, no food, no water, no resources, but they can rest in the outsides feeling protected by the soldiers.

The Minutemens sometimes comes to share their food and water when they have news of a lot of people stopping by the base, but that didn’t happened a lot luckily, and it wasn’t their obligation neither.

The 3 paladins reported the success to Maxson, but they also reported that Nora was out of sight since a week ago, that she mention heading to Castle…and nothing more…

If the Minutemens were around, that mean that the sentinel was fine at least, out of sight for the brotherhood but alive for the rest.

Castle was not so far from the Boston Airport, in fact it was a trip in water not so long, they where barely neighbors but…

It doesn’t matter, is not the first time he loose track of her.

He will trow that party anyway, every one did a fine work, they deserved it.

A week later, there was a celebration over the Prydwen.

Some music in the speakers of the Prywen, a small feast for everyone with the overproduction they make out the Minutemens as Nora said…and a lot of people actually having fun. Yeahyeahyeah not everyone on the Prydwen was involved in the new base work over this 7 weeks but a bit of fun wasn’t a bad idea to keep the morale high, it make the soldiers think that everything was better than ever and they can actually afford to have this events, which wasn’t a lie right now so it’s a winwin, everybody partys, take off the overproduction stock of food, raise up the morale…

And he had a bit fun, went down with the soldiers, chat a bit, have some drinks, people were always so nice towards him, no secret intentions, not trying anything, not looking for something…

Something  caught his attention at seeing a figure pass by him, a woman, but at seeing her back…obviously didn’t recognize her butt…it was definetly familiar but at looking at her hair…nope…wasn’t the same hairstyle.

The night went down eventually, people started getting sleepy and coming back to their beds and quarters, tomorrow and like always was a day of work and service. Some couples were making out in the darker corners…Arthur crossed his lips at seeing that’s scenes while he walked with a beer on hand to his own quarters…

At steeping up a ladder he head something…unusual.

The Prydwen was a very loud place, a lot of locations of the zeppelin were more louder than others, were the explosive cans of gas were was the loudest because machines were working like crazy to maintain the gigant metal zeppelin in the air but…there it was, the door of the forecastle was letting throught the sound of a radio station.

What the hell?

Most people wouldn’t hear it, but he was so used to the sounds of the Prydwen and their sintonys that this one was  weird and out of place.

He was literally the king of the ship, so like nothing he open the door just to found…

A woman was sit on the floor of the plataform, a dog getting up from his rest next to her alarmed that anything that could harm her. She had the legs open, a bottle of beer on one hand, a comic book in the other, and a box of fancy lads on the floor.

At seeing at her face a red pair of lips called his attention.

-Sentinel? –he whisper, her hair was indeed, changed.

-Elder? –she said touching the dog with one of her hands to calm the animal-chill Dogmeat he is good

-What are you doing here? –how the hell was she here was even a better question.

-The night is hot and theres almost no wind, sometimes when the weather is cool I came here to read, since the Prydwen doesn’t move I feel confident relaxing here

Yeah that sounded dangerous…

-Werent you at the party? –she lift up the beer to respond- I thought I see you but…your…-he made a statement about her hair –didn’t recognize you

-I go to the hair saloon in Diamond City frequently, it helps me to camouflage –Maxson raised an eyebrow- you know since you named me sentinel I cannot assist to any party no more…

-Why? –since they were chatting Nora make a sign in a place next to her for him to sit, patting with her hand, Maxson blushed but obeyed, feeling close and intimate to the lady as he place his butt on the metal plataform.

But at the same time he feeled very woozy about being suspended in the air and a instinc told him to grab himself to the next bar as possible, was she brave of the heights or careless?

-Every guy with a beer on thinks is a good idea to try to approach me, its cool to laught with your friends about getting the sentinel in your bed apparently…I mean its not like I cannot turn them down but after five in the same night it turns awkward so…take my beer an preffer to avoid it

-I see…and why here?

-The breeze is nice in a summer night –she had a genuine smile of relaxation, and the elder blushed, then looked down at her legs where the comic book was.

She had this thinn long open legs sitting…black legs in the leather suit of the brotherhood…

The blushing on his face become warmer, she looked like a black widow, thinn long black legs…

-What are you reading? –he asked when his eyes moved around her legs and found a comic book being holded.

-Oh, just a comic, my husband make me a nerd of this ones like him, the traders sell them really cheap so I have a big collection in my quarters already

-You like them?

-I mean is difficult to follow a story with the  book 2, 8, 16, 18…but im buying everytime I see one, thing is I have a lot of incomplete titles…

Well that was…interesting to know…

-I tried to contact you…you made an amazing job –he said giving a sip to his beer, caught Nora looking at him.

-I was heading to Castle that day…besides im a sentinel already, you cant congrat me more than this –she laughted a bit and went to drink her own beer, then picked up the fancy lads box and offer one to him –want one?

-Pass, pre-wars aren’t my favourites –he said like nothing but then see a funny smile on her face.

-Well isn’t that a shame? – she whisper before drinking again, this time sip down the bottle.

Wa

Wat was that

What the hell

Was that flirting?

Nononono take it back take it back he wanted that he liked pretty much prewars yesyes

-I mean theres a lot of pre-war things I like…-but she keep on drinking, swallowing the liquid down her throat. Wow that’s some resistence – I always admired your capacity to drink in one shot.

-Im going to pee all night…-she said with a stupid smile at finishing, making him laught too, the dog crawled to approach him and ask for a pet at noticing the two of them were close and having fun, Maxson stranged lifted his hand and Nora feeling brave enought grab it, pressing slowly down onto the animals head, moving it slowly to simulate a pet with the mans hand.

Ohnononononononoo the elder felt his heart pownding like crazy on his chest, his eyes looked at her just to fall onto that beautifull pair of red lips.

Her hand was wet from the beer bottle but warm at the same time.

-You come here often? –the Diamond City radio was still sounding in the Pip-Boy on her other hand.

-Just when the wheather allows it, never found any other person here, is not a popular spot  –Nora thought about how firm and pretty his hands feeled under hers, he had a rought masculine skin and the veins on top of his fingers looked…beautifull, a warm appeared on her chest making her took a big breath.

Maxson heard the noise of her breathing thought the music of the radio, he had a good hearing, but at looking at her he see her chest going up and down, relaxing, making him blush again.

He keep on petting the dog down him…it was nice and funny, the animal let him do without problem…

They stay in silence for a few minutes with the radio playing music behind, even Nora came back to read her comic while Maxson play a bit with Dogmeat ears, hearing the pages pass.

What the hell why not, he took a sip of his beer and feel brave enough to aproach.

-Will I found you here again? Some other night?

Nora open his eyes wide but didn’t move away from the comic book, didn’t want to look so…surprised and exposed

Yeah…right…they were floating in the air practically, in the black sky and stars, looking at the inmensity of the Commonwealth…how a romantic set of view for a couple  and a dog, like the situation wasn’t ideal for this mood

-If the weather allows it…usually after dinner hour you know before sleeping for tomorrow…

-Since is hard to contact you on working hours, you have your own quarters to read alone anyway

-My little fan is broken and the technical service hasn’t give me a proper response in a month, but I was away from the Prydwen and didn’t have time to check it on anyway, the air inside the closed quarter all day without a window or ventilation is very heavy to stay there conscious and non sleeping.

Datadatadata brain write all that data.

-Right –he gave the dog a last pat and stand up, confusing the lady who just looked at him raising the head, Maxson smiled. Well well what about that look? Heartbroken? –ill head back to my quarters, im getting a bit more woozy than I want for tomorrow…

-You don’t like the highs? –when she ask that the men took the moment to look down and focus his eyes on her thinn long open black legs

-Maybe not with beer and a full stomach –at hearing her giggle his eyes looked for hers –see you around

His hand posed in the cold door when he hear her low, almost inaudible.

-I could wait for you tomorrow…-Ah…wat…his head slowly turned back, facing her eyes looking for his blue ones- right here…ill be staying in the Prydwen for some days more…-this time she spoke a bit louder, still under the volume of the music in the Pip-boy…

Arthurs mouth open a bit, feeling dry and loose as he tried to answer.

-Sure…tomorrow after dinner is okay…-he said with a very shy smile before opening the heavy door and closing it, resting against it when he was on the other side, inside the zeppelin

Okayokayokay…he had a date with the sentinel?

His head burned at the realization, his hand went to cover his mouth as the other help him to  recompose and walk back to his quarters.

Better prepare for good.

  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14242575/3/Follow-me-inside-the-wastelands

[baddieladdie]

You are my Best High - Part 1

The mineral taste of blood hung in my mouth as I panted so hard my throat ached. I flattened myself firmly against the wall adjacent to the doorway, out of sight of any gunners’ that may walk down the hall. Pulling some shells from a pocket in my fatigues,  I reloaded Justice - my favorite combat shotgun, affectionately named by Penny from Covenant. 

tink tink tink tink

The sound of the gunners’ boots echoed on the metal vault floors - louder and louder - as they approached the doorframe I hide behind. I willed my racing heart to still, my breathing to silent.

“Where’d that little bitch go?” A man’s voice. Pissed and murderous. “You are seriously fucked! You know that? You’re fucking DEAD!” 

Good, at least he’s alone. I breathed in, mustering what courage I had, and jumped from the cover of the wall, facing the mercenaries - V.A.T.S. primed on the pip-boy on my wrist, Justice drawn and loaded. The V.A.T.S program inflated and deflated the bladders of my pip-boy, contorting my wrist until my gun was pointed directly at its target. The gunshots echoing down the hall. The body hitting the cold ground with a heavy thud.

“Whew, I could use some jet after that.” The familiar raspy voice emitted from the room we took cover in. 

“From how I saw it, I was the one who did the shooting," I chuckled, holstering Justice.

“I didn’t need to.” Hancock shrugged, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a shy smile broke as his glossy black eyes scanned her figure. “Handled yourself pretty well, sister.”

“If you want a drug break...” I spoke softly, flirtatiously, picking up on his hint.

“That’s all you have to say, sunshine." Hancock pushed himself off the wall, stumbling slightly, his red frock cloak brushing past me. His smell, that of moss & patchouli lingered near ever so briefly. "Now there’s gotta be some Chems around here somewhere"

“I’ll read that terminal, you check the gunner for anything useful,” I jerked my head towards the terminal in the room we used for cover. 

“Yeah, I can do that” He shot me a wink and waved fingers guns at me. I snorted out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, just GO Hancock” I pushed him gently towards the body. He submitted, throwing his hands up in the air, turning away from me.

His smiles always felt slightly insincere. He rarely shared a true smile, the kind that causes wrinkles. The kind that you feel across your lips and share with your eyes. Surely, the mayor of Goodneigher, who created a safe haven for the lost, forgotten, and cast out would have plenty of reasons to smile.

With little effort, I hacked my way into Vault 95 terminal. There was a single folder saved to the desktop - “Observation Log”. 

================================================

PRIVATE TERMINAL- IF NOT RGUTTIEREZ, LOG OFF IMMEDIATELY

================================================

**Observation Log**

Today marks the fifth calendar year since the residents of Vault 95 and I have moved into the Vault. This will be my first entry.

Today I will sneak out when all are asleep and open the stash of addictive substances that has lay hidden for the last five years. Isolation seems to have proved helpful when addictive stimuli are absent; now to see what such stimuli do the the social order we have created over the previous years.

================================================

“Hey Hancock,” I shouted, listening to the sound of his approach, “That closet the Overseer’s terminal referenced is REAL. And it’s fully stocked with untouched pre-war chems. You down for a treasure hunt?”

“Like you even have to ask, Damn right I’m interested. Let’s find ourselves the high of a lifetime.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hancock admired her toned features that filled out the army fatigues she wore. She picked it off the body of a gunner that was the same size as her. He promised to look away when she had changed, but he’d be lyin’ if he said he didn’t catch a glimpse of her perky breasts. She was, to him, the most beautiful creature of the wasteland. ‘Could be ‘case she had a pre-war physique, undamaged by a lifetime of radiation exposure. 

But it wasn’t worth thinking about. Not unless she wanted to act on those flirty comments she dropped now and again during perhaps more-than friendly banter.

“Has to be just down here,” Her eyes were fixed on the glowing green map displayed on her pip-boy as she led the way deeper inside the Vault. That little piece of tech on her wrist made her a target anywhere. Vault dwellers were often naive, especially in understanding the value of the pip-boy. It was the difference between life and death. He couldn’t count how many times they were jumped during while  traveling together. But she always managed to impress him with her skill in combat.

“Imagine us, here, in a place like this. Pretty sure the Vaults were built to keep riff-raff like us out. And look at us now.” He smirked, pride swelling in his chest.

They walked past the vault quarters and into the large, openness of the cafeteria. From there, stepping over debris and junk, she made her way to a blue-metal door across from a flipped over bench. She kneeled before the door, pulling a bobby pin from her hair, the stand falling to frame her face. Her features were smooth and delicate. Nothing like the course and scarred features his face had been reduced to. In fact, there was little out here in the post-nuclear wasteland that could compare to her.

“Keep an eye out, I’m gonna try to pick this thing.” He nodded, scanning the room for movement. In the shadows, he could hear the scurrying sound of radroaches against tile.

“Alright, just make it quick. I don’t think we’re alone,” He drew his sharpened knife.

Finally, the roach ran into the light. "HA! There you are!" Hancock lunged forward, thrusting the blade into its neck with a satisfying CRUNCH 

 “How’s that lock coming?” He asked, the flag tied around his narrow hips swayed with him as he turned to observe her work the lock.

“Almost….” Her face frowned as she focused.Cute as a button, that one. “Got it!” She smiled, springing to her feet.

“Someone knows their way around a bobby pin.”

“Let's see this infamous Vault 95 stash!”

“Heh, Alright! After you, doll”

The shelves upon shelves were stocked full with a staggering variety of chems and booze. Enough to keep the Goodneighbor Storeroom stocked for years.

“Well, I’ll be,” Hancock admired the dazzling display, a variety of drugs he recognized and few he had yet to try. He rubbed the dust off a barely legible vodka label. “Some of this could scrub the skin off a synth”

“Well, we might as well get comfortable. Care to join me in the dweller quarters?" 

“Lead the way, princess”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2: Lover's High

Authors Note: This work may get some more edits, but I am satisfied with the progress made thus far. This is part of my Fallout 4 Companion One-shots (Romance <3 )

Thank you for much for your support, it means so much to me!

[gregorygerwitz]

Moustead + Burzek + Cate’s Kim’s Brother AU

When it came to a happily ever after, Kim always knew what her wedding would look like. It would be big enough that she could invite everyone she cared about, she would wear a pretty dress, carry a beautiful bouquet, eat a delicious cake, and begin a life with the person she loved the most in the world. For years, she had no idea who her forever partner would be, but that was a minor bump in the road, something that would work itself out when the time was right. And it did. 

Because she met Adam Ruzek, and everything that happened after that came as naturally as breathing.

They worked together, and lived together, and had even taken a trip together when she had to handle a family emergency in Los Angeles. It wasn’t a surprise at all when he asked her to get married, or when she said yes, or when they picked a date. And, when the big day started coming up, things barely even got hectic.

They had their entire team to thank for that. Between Jay and Hailey, everything was micromanaged down to the minute in the weeks leading up to the wedding. There was dress shopping, and cakes to taste, and a stop at the airport that made them a little later to their joint party than they were supposed to be.

“Oh, Jay! Hey!” “You’re like an hour late to your own party. Where were you?” “We had to pick up the last groomsman from the airport. His flight got delayed.” “So everyone’s in Chicago now? No more delays?” “Everyone’s here. No more delays. Wait, have you met my brother yet?” “Kim, with all due respect, I’ve known you for like five years, and I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

Technically, they weren’t siblings. They weren’t family in the traditional sense, or in any legal sense. But they’d been part of each other’s lives for over two decades, and that was good enough for them. Greg was the older brother she hadn’t realized she wanted until he was in her life to stay. And of course he was going to take time off from his fancy technology job to come home and see his little sister get married.

Gregory Platt, the last name only legally changed after his ninth birthday, knew that everything good he had in his life was a lucky accident. He grew up with the mother he did because the detectives investigating his parents for fraud had asked the right questions, and child services had placed him in the right house until the trial date, and then he got to stay there. For a decade, he lived in the same house, stayed in the same school district, and didn’t have to worry about a police investigation taking everything away from him again. And every day as a Platt was better than any memory he had of being a Gerwitz.

And then a snowy day in the middle of October meant they had recess inside, and somehow he’d gotten the responsibility of entertaining a seven year old who wouldn’t stop following him around the gym. Most other fifth graders probably would have been annoyed, and he thought he was, too, but after a week of playing inside and spending half an hour with each other every day after lunch, he knew the feeling was something else. His mother was convinced that she’d be calling little Kimberly Burgess her daughter-in-law one day. He’d known within a few years that was nowhere near the realm of possibility, but that didn’t mean Trudy didn’t adopt her, too, everywhere but on paper.

Soon enough, half an hour at recess turned into riding the same bus after school. And then he was giving her rides the day he got his license, and studying together at the kitchen table. And they were only properly apart for the first time when he got his acceptance letter to MIT and moved halfway across the country for school.

From there, life got a little harder. Greg’s support system was thousands of miles away, and trying to cram for tests wasn’t nearly as fun when Kim wasn’t there to help him make a game of it. Maybe it was stupid, buying a few pills off of a classmate, but it wasn’t like it was anything a hundred other people in his dorm weren’t already doing. It was Adderall. And he graduated, and got his degree, and got a job out in California with a startup that just needed some help with a base code.

When the company decided to keep him on, he got more money out of the deal, and some of that money went to things a little more illegal than Adderall and weed. At least a years long friendship meant he didn’t have to tell his mother about everything he’d been getting up to when a bad high was worse than the comedown. He had someone to help him keep the secret, at least while he cleaned up and did what he had to before the job he loved so much slipped through his fingers.

And it meant he was clean for over a year by the time he took the trip home for his best friend’s wedding.

What was supposed to be a week long trip so that he could be part of the bachelor party turned into making a deal. Because, in his mother’s opinion, he didn’t visit home enough. And she was probably right. He’d been skipping birthday trips and holiday visits to cover his tracks, all too aware of how quickly his police sergeant of a mother would spot the signs if he came home high. And the deal was simple - spend a month in Chicago around Kim and Adam’s wedding, and she’d lay off the guilt trips for a year. Even if he really wouldn’t be getting anything out of it, he did miss the city, and it wasn’t like he had a reason to stay away anymore.

“Greg, this is Jay. He takes the bullets so I don’t have to.” “Good. That means you’ve got someone besides mom looking out for you at your dangerous job.” “Oh, hush. I have to go make my rounds and figure out where Adam went. You too get along.” “What? Why?” “You’re both part of the wedding party. You’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few days.”

It was true. During every spare minute of the days leading up to the wedding, Jay was side by side with someone he barely knew. Greg wasn’t exactly a stranger, not when they’d spent an entire party talking and drinking just enough that he could feel buzzed while still making sure things went smoothly. But they weren’t really friends, either, not when all they really knew about each other was what they did for work and their favorite sports teams.

But every afternoon was spent putting finishing touches on bouquets, or calling the venue or the caterer or the car service to make sure everything would be ready. And it was nice to have someone to help him when Hailey was busy making sure that everything else was taken care of. So, while she wasn’t leaving Kim’s side, he didn’t really mind the company, especially when that company was terrifyingly good at making the bouquets look just right.

“Aren’t you, like, a computer nerd for a living? How do you know how to do that?” “I started a community garden in high school when I needed to round out my MIT application. Well, mom and Kim helped, but it was my idea.” “You learned how to do this by picking strawberries?” “Ha ha. No. I ended up really liking it, so I got a few of those self-watering mason jar flowers for my dorm room, and now I have a whole herb set up in my kitchen.” “So you just started with strawberries?” “Technically, I started with tomatoes.”

Days spent together led to a tentative label. Acquaintances wasn’t as good as friends, but it was more accurate, and that was all they needed to be. They both put hard work and energy into making sure the wedding went well - and it did, and he was sure that neither of his friends had been happier than the moments they got to say their I Dos - and they both had speeches to give at the reception, and then the pressure was off.

The cake had been cut and eaten. Everyone had danced. The Ruzeks were in a car and on their way to the airport to leave for their honeymoon. The venue had cleared out except for the employees putting away chairs and tables and making sure there was no frosting smeared on the dance floor.

And Jay knew he’d had a little too much to drink, but it was a celebration, and he’d earned it, and he was being responsible. It wasn’t like he was going to drive himself home. He’d ordered a car, and ducked under the building’s awning to keep his rented tuxedo from getting ruined in the rain, and he’d barely thought anything of it when a joke led to talking led to sharing a ride led to someone entering his apartment by his side instead of his usual lonely routine.

And then he woke up the next morning next to his best friend’s brother.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Give Yourself a Try

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter hate each other, which becomes a problem when you’re given a group project

Part two and three

Masterlist

“Good morning Ned.” You kindly greeted as you took your seat in front of Peter in your first period physics class.

“Morning Y/n.” Ned said back, gearing up for what he knew was coming.

“I really like your makeup today, Y/n.” Peter smiled as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it hard balancing your schoolwork with your job at the circus?”

“Not at all.” You smiled sweetly at him as you turned around. “I could get you a job there if you’d like. We’ve been needing something small to feed to the lions between shows. You’d be perfect.”

“Small? Darling, you must be mistaken.” Peter kept a sickly sweet grin on. “I’m bigger than your boyfriend of the week over there.”

“Silly goose.” You scrunched your nose at him. “Harry Osborn is not my boyfriend. And just so you know, steroids are really bad for you. I’m worried about your well being.”

“I’m not on steroids.” Peter hissed, dropping the act. “Stop trying to start that rumor.”

“Why not?” You shot back. “You had no trouble spreading the rumor that I was the one who killed Herbie the hamster when we all know it was you who left the door open after cleaning his cage.”

“Are you kidding me? That was fifth grade.” He whispered harshly.

“I will never forget it.” You snapped back.

“Ahem.” The teacher cleared her throat as she stared at you and Peter with an annoyed expression. This was an everyday occurrence in her class, and any other class you had with Peter. You hated each other and everyone knew it. You and Peter stopped arguing and slumped in your seats, giving each other one last look of disdain.

“Instead of a final exam this semester, I’ll be giving you a final project.” The teacher continued. “You’ll be working with one other student.”

“Nice. We can finally present our work on quantum physics.” Peter excitedly high fived Ned.

“Can you guys reschedule your virgin convention for later?” You asked seriously. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Because of the disappointing grades on the last project, I will be assigning your partners.” The teacher went on.

“Don’t worry.” Peter whispered to Ned again. “We could still end up together. We got an A last time so she knows we work well together.”

“We got an A last time.” You mimicked his voice and moved your hand like a puppet.

“Yeah. An A.” Peter said as he leaned forward in his seat. “You know, like your bra size.”

“What did you just say to me?” You snapped as you whipped around. He had on his infamous shit eating grin that you hated.

“Young man, can you please stop interrupting our conversation?” He said as he held up a hand. Your jaw dropped at the insult, face growing warm with anger. You decide not to give him the satisfaction of an insult exchange and turned around in your seat. Your teacher began to list off the partners for the projects.

“Leeds, Stacy.” She called out. “You’ll be working together.”

“Sorry, man. But also, not sorry man.” Ness frown quickly turned into a smile. “Gwen, over here!”

“Aw.” You snickered as you turned around on your chair. “I feel bad for whoever gets stuck with you now. That poor, unfortunate soul.”

“Parker. L/n. You’ll be working together.”

“What?” You and Peter screamed in unison. You gave each other an angry look before looking at your teacher in protest.

“You two are always holding up my class and I’m tired of it.” She held up a hand. “This project will teach you how to finally get along and stop disrupting me while I teach.”

“Mrs. Avery, with all due respect, I can feel myself getting more disruptive already.” You told her.

“I think that’s your STD.” Peter mumbled.

“You two need to learn how to be professional and amicable.” She ignored your protest. “You won’t always like your peers. But you will always have to collaborate with them at some point.”

“I understand that.” You assured her. “But if we do this project together, my fist is going to collaborate with Peters face.”

“That’s a threat.” Peter piped up. “I’d like to file a report.”

“And I’d like to take that report and shove it up your-“

“Enough.” Mrs. Avery cut you off. “You will be working together and that is final.”

You both shrunk in your seats, fuming with anger over the teachers decision. You didn’t cause any more disruptions throughout the class and quickly left once the bell rang.

Peter saw you at your locker, which was coincidentally next to his locker, spraying some perfume on.

“Darling!” Peter exclaimed as he stood next to you. “So good to see you! You know how much I love when you hog all the locker space and make the entire hallways smell like perfume.”

“Why, thank you.” You touched your hand to your heart. “As I’m sure you know, some of us prefer to smell like things other than Neosporin and baby powder. After all, that’s your signature scent and I’d just hate to step on your toes.”

“I didn’t know. Thank you for opening your gigantic mouth and telling me!” Peter said through a toothy grin.

“Oh, Peter.” You laughed airily. “You’re very welcome, you sad sack of shit.”

“Classy.” Peter faked a smile as he opened his locker. “Do you want to come over to my house after school to work on the project? I live walking distance from here.”

“What? No.” You scoffed. “You’re not getting me to a secondary location. We’ll work in the library.”

“Actually, we won’t, because it’s closed for maintenance.” He replied with a tight smile.

“I wish you were closed for maintenance.” Yoh grumbled as you zipped up your bag.

“Hilarious.” He fake laughed loudly. “Are you coming over or not?”

“Not.” You said in disgust. “I don’t know you or your parents. You might try to kill me as a part of some Parker family cult ritual.”

“My parents are dead.” He told you, unamused. “It’s just me and my aunt.”

“Is your aunt a cult leader?” You asked.

“No.” He groaned.

“Cult member?”

“No. All she does is cheat at cross world puzzles and shop at Whole Foods.” He said.

“So you lied.” You slammed your locker and looked at him. “She’s in the Whole Foods cult.”

“Can you try not to be difficult for two minutes, please? We need to get this project done.”

“Jokes on you, Parker.” You folded your arms. “Difficult is my lowest setting.”

“Ooo. Scary.” He mocked you. “What’s your highest? Because I’m pretty sure I saw it last Tuesday when your backpack got stuck on the door handle and you decided to blame me.”

“I know that was your fault. And I go from difficult to hooligan to the step mom from Parent Trap.” You shrugged.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” Peter replied as he slapped his knee. You raised an eyebrow at him, judging him for his material.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“You’re gonna be sorry.” You told him. “Where do you live again?”

“Waking distance from here. I said that less than five minutes ago.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Well I didn’t hear that because I tune you out when you speak. You know, like most people do.” You said sweetly.

“Wow, you’re so funny.” Peter said sarcastically. “If I meet you here at the end of the day, will you come home with me?”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I’ll go home with you. But if I start detecting any cult shit going on, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you later.”

~

“Are you ready to go?” Peter asked after the last bell had rang. You shouldered your backpack and shut your locker, feeling unusually anxious around him. You could deal with Peter for 40 minutes at a time when all you did was trade insults. Something about walking to his home together and spending time alone knocked the confidence right out of you.

“I’m ready.” You nodded.

“What, no insult?” He asked. “No mocking of my voice?”

“We were assigned each other as partners so we could learn to be civil, right?” You shrugged. “I guess I’m just mature enough to give it a try.”

“There she is.” Peter smiled as you began to walk in the direction of his apartment. “There’s my girl.”

You looked to the side when you heard him say this, unsure of how it made you feel. You often called each other pet names ironically, but this felt different. There was a change in the dynamic between the two of you and it was clouding your judgment.

You let Peter do all the talking as you walked home, thankful that he lived so close to the school. He spewed out ideas for the project the entire elevator ride up and didn’t stop until you were standing outside his bedroom door.

Peter stopped talking and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You made a face at him before walking, staying in one spot as he shut the door and sat down. You were frozen as you looked around his room, not liking how human it made him. He had notes from classes you didn’t have with him strewn around and an open first aid kit on his desk.

“You can sit.” He chuckled when he noticed how stiff you were.

“I’m scared to.” You admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. Something about sitting on this boys bed with him seemed finalizing, like you’d be opening a door you couldn’t close.

“Just sit down.” He repeated. “I didn’t rig the place with boobytraps, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s what someone who rigged the place with booby traps would say.” You replied as you took a hesitant seat on his bed.

“There. Isnt that nice?” He asked sarcastically.

“No.” You said immediately. “Am I the first girl to ever sit on your bed?”

“Psh. No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes ma’am.” You mumbled.

“Whatever.” He replied. “What do you want to do the project on?”

“How about micropenises?” You suggested. “You won’t even have to do any research.”

“Haha. So funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You are so annoying it’s actually impressive.”

“Please.” You laughed. “You so have a crush on me.”

“What?” His entire face went red. “No I don’t.”

“No I don’t.” You mimicked his voice. “Yes you do. That’s why you’re up my ass all the time.”

“That makes no sense.” He scoffed.

“It makes total sense.” You insisted. “You know I’ll never like you back, so you made me hate you. That way, you still get to talk to me all the time. Genius, really. I applaud you.”

“That’s a nice little fantasy you’ve created for yourself. Is that what you tell yourself to help you fall asleep?” He teased you.

“Yep.” You smiled brightly. “Right after I finger blast myself to the thought of you in your Catholic schoolboy sweaters.”

“Oh my God.” His cheeks turned even redder at your inappropriate joke.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” You used his words from earlier.

“They were right.” He said, making you laugh.

“God, I love it when you talk down to me.” You fanned yourself. “Can you tell me how to change a tire?”

Peter began to laugh as well, looking at you as you both laughed. You quickly stopped laughing when you realized you just gave him a genuine smile and looked away.

“Do you want to do the project on tensile strength?” You suggested to break the tension. “I know you’re weirdly into that.”

“How’d you know?” He wondered.

“You almost popped a boner when we talked about in last month.” You teased him. “It’s just rope, dude.”

“It’s not just rope. It’s the force-“

“-the force required to pull something until it breaks. I know.” You finished his sentence. “I’m smart too, you know.”

“Oh.” He was dumbfounded that you knew something he was interested in. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Women use brain sometime. Woman say smart thing like man.”

Peter laughed again, realizing you were actually kind of funny when you wanted to be.

“I’m not a misogynist, you know.” Peter said after a beat. “You don’t have to make jokes like that. I may not like you, but I respect you.”

“You respect me?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“I respect all women. The strongest person I know is my Aunt. Plus, I’ve still never met anyone who was as smart as my mom. I wouldn’t be half the man I was if it weren’t for the women who raised me.” He shrugged. “But it would be ignorant and naive of me to only respect woman who are related to me in some way. So I respect all of them unless they give me a reason not to.”

“Have I given you a reason not to?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Not yet.” He chuckled to himself. “You’re annoying, but you’re brilliant. I know you would never admit this, but we’re basically the same person. You’re just more extroverted so you have more friends and popularity. And you’re smart but you don’t make that your whole personality, so it impresses more people when you let your intelligence show.”

Your body language shifted when you realized he was actually a nice guy. He clearly paid attention to you and was impressed by what he saw. You didn’t say anything, so Peter kept going.

“People lean in to listen when you start speaking instead of tuning you out.” He brought up your insult from earlier, and you felt bad. You didn’t realize he admired you in any way and you felt guilty for always teasing him. Peter’s kept his eyes down, playing with his fingers to distract himself.

“You’re…you’re kind of every thing I wanted to be.” He said quietly. You smiled softly at him, but he didn’t see it. It was the first time you had a nice moment with Peter, and you didn’t hate it. You could tell he was beginning to panic for sharing so much, so you reached forward and tilted his chin up to look at you. His wide eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile.

“How did your parents die?” You asked quietly, immediately ruining the moment.

“Damn.” Peter pulled away with a shocked laugh. “When was your first period?”

“All right. I get your point.” You rolled your eyes. “That was a little abrupt.”

“You’re telling me.” He teased. You sat in silence for a moment, neither of you sure where to go from there. You knew Peter was still processing you touching his face, so you talked first.

“My parents are dead too.” You said without looking up at him.

“They are?” He asked, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

“Yeah.” You looked up and gave him a sad smile. “But if you think we’re gonna take a turn and fall in love because we have similar trauma, you’re wrong. I can’t stand orphans.”

“But you’re an orphan.” He reminded you.

“And?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling I won’t be getting through to you.”

“Probably not.” You agreed. “Tell me more, though. Did your parents die doing something cool?”

“I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “It was a plane crash. That’s all I’ve been told.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Sounds lame.”

“What?”

“A plane crash?” You raised your eyebrow. “That’s so boring. Yawn.”

“Excuse me?” He laughed in shock again. “Fine. How did your parents die?”

“Firefighters.” You said proudly. “Died saving three children.”

“Wow.” Peter sat back, stumped.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I was one of them.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he fought the urge to hold your hand.

“No. I’m fucking with you.” You began to laugh as he let out a groan.

“Why would you do that to me?” He whined. “You had me, for a minute there.”

“What can I say? I’m an actor.” You flipped your hair ostentatiously.

“What actually happened?” He wondered. You stopped smiling and bit your bottom lip.

“Drunk driver.” You told him. He didn’t fight the urge this time and reached over to take your hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, wondering if you should pull away or not. On the one hand, he was your enemy. But that didn’t make his warmth any less inviting.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “That must have been really hard on you.”

“You know the feeling, don’t you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I do.” He nodded. “And I know how much it sucked to not have someone who knew how it felt. You don’t have to feel that way anymore. Neither of us do.”

You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it, not wanting to ruin the moment again. The guy holding your hand was not the same guy who sat behind you in physics. This guy was someone you actually liked.

“I might have misjudged you, Peter Parker.” You laughed shyly. “You might not be as unbearable as I remembered.”

“And you might not be the frigid bitch I thought you were.” He matched your tone.

“Watch it.” You warned.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You were right.” You said after a beat. “We are pretty much the same person. I never realized that before.”

“Maybe that’s why we don’t get along.” He shrugged, rubbing soft circles into your hand.

“I’d be willing to give it a try, if you were.” You said sheepishly. “Who knows? I might just like you.”

“You want to give this a try?” He asked, eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Why not?” You shrugged. “What do I have to lose?”

“Okay.” He nodded eagerly. “Then we’ll try.”

“Cool.” You smiled.

“Cool.” He said before leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as his fluttered shut, making you realize you were on different pages. His lips made contact with yours for a few seconds before you pushed him off.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Kissing you?” He asked in confusion as hurt flashed in his eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?” You exclaimed, still in shock. You got off the bed and backed away from him, trying to process what just happened.

“You said we were giving it a try!” He was shouting now too, but not out of anger. “I thought we were finally admitting that we like each other.”

“I meant giving friendship a try! I never said anything about a relationship.” You shouted. You quieted down when you saw the upset look on his face. “You... you like me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” He said quietly. “I-I thought you knew. You said it before and I just…I thought you knew.”

“Peter, I was joking when I said all that stuff.” You calmed down and sat back on his bed. “I didn’t actually think you liked me.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times before looking down. “I…I do.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You reached for his hand again but his withdrew it.

“No, it’s my fault.” He shook his head and got off the bed. “I misunderstood the situation.”

“Peter, wait.” You caught him by the wrists and pulled him back down to the bed. He sat down again but looked anywhere but at you. You could see that his eyes were glassy so you put a hand on his face.

“You were right.” His voice wavered. “I did like you and I did think you’d never like me back. That’s why I always tease you. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

“Pete.” You whispered, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be here right now. I’ll email you my part of the project and-“

You cut him off by wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You both had your eyes closed this time and it lasted much longer. Your lips moved against his slowly and you could feel how inexperienced he was. Even so, it was perfect. You pulled away after a minute and looked into his eyes, feeling better now that there were no traces of sadness in them.

“You kissed me.” He said, dumbfounded.

“I can’t know I don’t like you back if I never give you a chance.” You shrugged as you withdrew your hand from his face.

“Well what did you decide?” He asked curiously. You puckered your lips and tilted your head, staring at him as if you were making a decision.

“I still think you’re super annoying.” You concluded.

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

“But it’s an annoying I’m willing to put up with.” You decided as you slipped your hand back into his. Peter broke out into a smile and nodded again.

“Okay.”

Tag List 🏷

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper  @thestylestour  @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @satanswitchings @okkulta @parkerlovebot @jungkxxkk @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @whatthefuckimbisexual @olixerwxxd @starkbrain @creatorofthegalaxy @far-from-holland @f-hollands @ilovefrogs1000 @itstaskeen @itmatteredatthetime @wrendermeuseless @amazinggracy @slutforsebstan @iprobablyshipit91 @magicalxdaydream @whereismytelephone @theonly1outof-a-billion @leilanixx @namoreno @bi-lmg @dracoswhore007 @tomhollandloml @avengers-hamiltrash @sunshinepeterparkr @gh0stgurl @so-very-asleep @veryholland  @white-wolf1940 @spideycheles @w0nderzwndaya @fanficaddict13125 @pinklxmonade @thebestqueenoftheworld @nowayhomeparker @willowestelle

[e-vasong]

I’ve already talked about a Leverage crossover where the Hargreeves are conmen but I'm. losing it thinking about. a Leverage AU where the Leverage team sees these kids on tv, and they just go.  oh shit, that’s just fucking wrong.  (I know the timelines don’t match up but let’s pretend the umbrella kids were born a little later, or that Leverage takes place a little earlier, or something like that.  I don’t know.)

But these fucking umbrella kids show up on TV, and at first none of them are paying much attention. Not right away.  They’re busy running cons, and none of them except Hardison watch TV for fun very often.

So they’ve all heard bits and pieces about this Umbrella thing, and aren’t quite sure what to make of it.  Superhumans, huh? Eliot mutters at one point. Whatever. Our lives are already so goddamn weird.

But eventually they catch a broadcast while they’re home in between cases.  it’s playing in the background while they’re enjoying a meal together at the brewery.

The Umbrella Academy saves the day yet again! the broadcaster declares cheerily. We go now to a statement at the Louvre from their leader, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

It’s just novel enough to catch their attention--being who they are, they all perk up at the word Louvre--and it gets them half-watching as they chat over breakfast.

It’s Parker that sees it first.  She’s Parker, so what catches her attention is actually not the fact that one of them is covered in blood, nor is it the fact that their father is calling them by numbers instead of names.  It’s the way that they stand, tense and upright.  It’s the way that the one covered in blood is trembling minutely, so fine that it’s almost imperceptible. But she notices. And she notices the way that the one to the bloodied boy’s left--the fifth one in line--leans over ever-so-subtly when their father is looking away. Whispers something with the barest movement of his lips. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he links hands with his shaking brother, twining their fingers together.  Parker knows that whisper, knows what this is. She used to do that with her brother.  Used to hold Nick’s hand, just like that, when their fosters were scaring him, trying to provide comfort even despite the fear of being caught.

It’s not long before the others follow her gaze. She’s stopped engaging in the conversation entirely, is just staring at the television with a death glare, nose wrinkled.

“Parker, baby,” Hardison says.  “That’s your angry face.”

“I’m angry,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Got it,” Hardison takes it in stride, as he always does.

Eliot’s frowning at the TV.  Unlike Parker, his eye does jump to the most obvious thing first.  To the boy, no older than eleven or twelve probably, drenched head to toe with blood.  There’s no rips in his clothing; Eliot’s pretty sure the blood isn’t his. He’s standing up straight, but his shoulders are slightly hunched.  Like he’s injured.  Broken ribs, maybe?  And he’s been taught to hide them too. He’s also not the only one with that too-stiff posture. These kids aren’t standing up straight. They’re standing at attention.  Number One, their father calls one of them, and what are those? Fucking callsigns?  

Sophie and Nate are watching too.  Their faces are carefully blank.  They aren’t happy, Parker’s pretty sure, but they’re trying not to react.

“What the hell?” Hardison says slowly.  He’s the last one to catch on, though only by a very narrow margin.  He lacks Sophie and Nate’s cynicism, and the years of personal experience Parker and Eliot have, but he’s still too smart to not figure it out almost immediately.  And he is first one to abandon the stunned stillness that’s fallen over the rest of them, pulling his laptop out of his bag, already quickly tapping away at the keys.

“This ain’t right,” Eliot says, voice a growl in his chest.  “This is--this is--it’s televised child abuse.”

Sophie makes a quiet noise of agreement then. “It is,” she says, quietly disgusted. “Those poor children.”

Nate is still staring at the screen, lips pressed flat.

“This Reginald guy looks rich,” Parker says.  Then: “Can we kill him?”

Eliot chokes on his drink.

“How is this even legal?” Sophie asks.  She sounds curious, though not particularly surprised by the grievous violation of child protection laws before her. “It’s so...blatant.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” Hardison says, no longer typing.  “He is--oh shit.” And the typing resumes, faster and a little more panicked than before.

“Hardison?” Nate prods after a moment, giving Hardison a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good,” Hardison says.  “The INTERPOL files on this guy are locked up tight though.  Almost tripped their security system there.  I didn’t, of course, but--”

“You couldn’t get in?” Eliot says, smirking.

“Yet,” Hardison says.  “Dammit, man, it’s been less than five minutes.  Give me a couple hours and that thing is mincemeat.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.  But I do see what’s going on here and,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment.  “Y’all, this is hinky.”

“Yes, I think we got that,” Nate says.  The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardison says.  “This guy has got friends everywhere.  No one knows how he got the kids, but it looks like he technically bought them--”

“He what?” Sophie sounds like she’s been suckerpunched.  Parker can’t think of the last time she heard Sophie sound so shocked.

“Oh yeah.  You think that’s bad?  The numbers aren’t code names  The numbers are their name names.  Like, legally.  I just found an article that said he ordered them by how useful he thinks they are, but judging by the adoption papers it was actually in the order he, uh,” Hardison coughs, “acquired them.”

Eliot is swaying where he stands.  “Common tactic.  He’s pitting them against one another so they’ll be easier to control.  It undermines the self worth of the ones lower on the scale and makes the ones that are higher up feel obligated to do what he wants.  Son of a bitch.”

“...And it looks like he leveraged their powers as excuse to gain exemptions from child protection laws,” Hardison continues like he hasn’t been interrupted.  “Claimed their abilities meant they don’t need the same safeguards.”

“That’s bullshit!” Eliot sounds thunderous.

“I know, buddy,” Hardison reaches over blindly, waving his hand around vaguely until he finds Eliot’s shoulder.  He gives it a comforting squeeze.  “I didn’t write it.”

Eliot heaves in a shuddering breath.  “That’s just--”

“Evil,” Sophie finishes.  

“I’m inclined to agree,” Nate says.  He’s not watching the TV anymore.  He’s staring off into the middle distance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” Parker perks up.  All the grief and distress that had been brewing on her face vanishes like storm clouds parting for the sun.  “Nate! Nate, are you scheming?  You look like you’re scheming.”

Nate makes a noncommittal grunt.  “It would be dangerous.”

“They’re in danger,” Sophie says softly, jerking her head in the television’s direction.

Eliot’s long-since gotten to his feet.  He’s pacing, and that’s how Parker knows he’s furious.  When Eliot is too angry to stand it, he has to move, has to find some way to handle the rage roiling under his skin.  Usually he cooks, chopping vegetables with furious aplomb.  And when he can’t cook, he paces.  

“They’re fucking child soldiers,” he says.  “I can’t--” he cuts himself off with a furious shake of the head.  I can’t believe, he was about to say, Parker thinks, but he had to stop because that’s not true.  Eliot knows better than anyone what the government--what the world does to people they find useful, whether its skill or power that makes them so.

“Y’all are behind,” Hardison says in sing-song.  “I’m already trying to burn this motherfucker down.”

“Hardison, do not tip our hand,” Nate says, snapping into his leader-voice automatically.  Parker grins.  He’s already got a plan, then.  She knew all that reluctance was just for show.  Sophie laughs, as clear and bright as the ringing of a bell, and even Eliot perks up.  

Hardison grumbles, closing his laptop and stuffing it back in his messenger bag.  

Nate is grinning a little too, though it’s that angry smile he gets sometimes when Parker knows he’s thinking about hurting bad people.  She understands.  She's wearing hers too right now.  Nate glances them all over, and for all the malice dripping off the knife’s edge of that smile, his eyes are soft.  Maybe even a little proud.

“Fine. Fine. You guys win,” Nate says, lifting his hands in defeat.  He’s putting on a show of being beleaguered, but Parker can hear the sparking anger in his voice, and oh, how could she have forgotten?  Sophie is so gently righteous, Hardison so achingly distressed, and Eliot so full of fire and fury that she almost didn’t notice Nate’s seething wrath, nearly forgot that Nate looks at every injured child in need of help and thinks of Sam.  “Everyone, get your things.  Hardison, get us some plane tickets.  Let’s go steal some children.”

“Okay, okay.  I ain’t complaining cause, like, fuck that guy,” Hardison says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  “But stealing children?  Could you have made us sound anymore like kidnappers?”

“Hardison!”

“I’m just saying.”

[heliads]

Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part One)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

series masterlist / part two

Jesper is almost one block away from the Crow Club when he senses that he isn’t alone.

Technically, he hasn’t been alone in a long time. There is no place to get away in Ketterdam, no alley left uninhabited or room without a listener. It’s certainly nothing like Novyi Zem, where you could find miles of farmland with nobody to talk to and nothing to do. No, the Barrel has never been somewhere to stay away from people.

This, however, is a different kind of presence. Jesper only notices it now, and he has no idea how long the Wraith has been following him. Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose, walking behind him, footsteps silent as ever, just to see how long it takes him to figure out that she’s there. Jesper halts in his tracks, raising his voice to the hooded figure no doubt a pace or two behind him. “I know you’re there, Inej, and if I turn around just now you had better not do that thing where you wait two inches behind me just to make me jump.”

There is silence, as expected. Jesper turns in a slow semicircle, ready for the inevitable, yet he still stiffens just slightly to see Inej standing behind him. Jesper has been in the Barrel for a long time, and gotten used to the skulking and sneaking of the various goons. He fancies himself at least somewhat capable at figuring out when people are following him, but for some reason, he cannot do the same with Inej. Not at all.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You did the thing.” Jesper finishes lamely. Something almost like a smile tugs at Inej’s lips. “That’s not exactly my fault. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for a while. I’ve practically been stomping my heels against the cobblestones.” Jesper groans. “You have not. You’ve been as silent as ever, and you know that.” Inej ignores this, jerking her chin behind her, back in the direction of the Slat. “Your Crow Club endeavor will have to wait. Kaz needs you.”

Kaz Brekker needs him. “What a surprise. I’m very useful, as it turns out. Couldn’t this wait a little longer, though? I’ve heard they’ve got a new dealer over at Makker’s Wheel.” Inej just turns around, starting to walk back towards the Slat. No matter how hard Jesper tries, he cannot hear a single footstep echo against the stones. “This is more important.” Jesper raises an eyebrow. “More important than earning the Dregs money by supporting a local establishment? He doesn’t need to worry, you know, I’ve got money.”

Jesper grimaces at the look of incredulity starting to color Inej’s eyes. “Alright, it’s not a lot of money. But it is at least enough to buy a round or two. Besides,” Jesper continues, eager to shift the conversation away from his less than prosperous gambling habits, “Why did Kaz send you? He could have just delivered a note.” Inej lifts a shoulder, even the slightest of shrugs a graceful movement. “I told you, this is important.”

Jesper is intrigued by this. “Whenever you say ‘important’ more than once, it’s always good. Is it another heist? Extortion? Maybe a good clash of rival gangs?” Inej rolls her eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. That was the whole point of me going.” Jesper sighs dramatically. “You could tell me a little bit. I wouldn’t even mention it to Kaz.”

Inej instead lets her eyes trail upwards, towards the ramshackle glory of the Slat which is visible down the block. “You’ll get your information soon enough.” Her voice grows quiet, quieter than usual. It’s practically impossible to hear over the clack of footsteps on stone as pigeons and gang members alike rush to finish their business before it grows too late and the thieves come running. “I will say one thing, though. While we’re still away from prying ears.”

Jesper leans closer, fascinated. “What is it?” Inej looks up at him, and Jesper realizes that she looks almost regretful. “Don’t be too upset.” Jesper waits for more, some explanation to this excruciatingly vague statement, but nothing happens. “Don’t be upset? What, is Kaz going to cane me to death?” Inej tilts her head to the side. “There’s a plan, and it will involve some things that you won’t be too fond of. That’s all I can say for now.”

Jesper wants to pry a little further, even if he senses that the Wraith will remain silent, but the door to the Slat is already in front of him, effectively stopping any conversation. The Dregs may be Kaz’s gang, but loyalties can always be changed. Jesper has wandered the canals long enough to know that all secrets should be kept to locked doors, and even allies can turn against you. Some conversations are best when they’re not shared at all.

Jesper looks around for Kaz in the main room of the Slat, but he doesn’t see the dark-haired boy anywhere. Instead, Inej inclines her head towards the rickety set of stairs at the back of the room. “He’ll be waiting for you in his office.” Jesper moves to ask her something, anything, about what else is waiting for him there, but before he can even open his mouth to speak Inej has disappeared. It’s fascinating- Jesper hadn’t even turned away or looked elsewhere, yet she had vanished right before his open eyes. He hadn’t seen her go, just witnessed her blink away into the shadows.

Jesper stares at the empty floorboards where Inej had once stood, then, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a particularly nerve-wracking round of cards, begins to ascend the flights of stairs. He pauses once outside the door to Kaz’s office, touching the hilts of his pearl handled revolvers for luck, then pushes open the door and steps inside.

Kaz is waiting for him, standing at his desk and running through a map spread out across the wooden surface. He looks up when he sees Jesper enter, straightening to nod once in greeting. Jesper’s eyes travel to Inej, who had somehow beat him up the stairs and is now perched, catlike, on Kaz’s windowsill.

Kaz doesn’t bother with pleasantries or questions about Jesper’s day, as per usual, just dives into an explanation. “There’s a mercher living down near the Financial District. He’s like the others- snotty, pretends to be pious, unseasonably rich for someone who just arrived at his title, but he’s strayed too far from his gilded walkways and tried to start restrictions on Fifth Harbor.”

Jesper lets out a snort. “Merchers. Always getting too big for their tie pins.” Kaz ignores this. “Under his new plan, we’d have to pay out reparations to him and also ease back on coaxing pigeons into our establishments. There’s no way in hell that would ever pass, but this mercher just happens to have some pretty significant blackmail on key members of the Merchant Council, and they’ll pass whatever bill he wants so long as he keeps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him directly, but we can break into his mansion and steal his proof of the Council’s less savory transactions. Without the blackmail, the Council will never pass the bill, and we’ll be fine.”

Jesper raises an eyebrow. “As easy as that?” Kaz lifts a shoulder. “There’s a slight complication. This mercher, Joeri ter Steege, has a certain thing for oceanside views. He’s found himself a nice little inlet near the water’s edge, and access to his mansion is only available by boat. This means that any attempt to access his house would mean we would travel by water, and any boat could easily be sighted by guards that patrol the area.”

Jesper squints at Kaz. “What do you mean, only available by boat? If he’s living in an inlet, shouldn’t there be some dock connecting it to the mainland?” Inej flashes him a smile. “The merch has got himself a moat.” Jesper stares. “You’re kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me. This merch is so extravagantly wealthy that he’s gone and got himself a moat? Ghezen’s hand, maybe I should become a banker. The things I could do.” Inej hides a laugh. “The moats you could build.”

Kaz’s hand tightens around his crow’s head cane. “Regardless of the merch’s terrible landscaping decisions, the fact remains that access will be practically impossible. To get across, we’d need a boat, and any boat would be sighted by guards. That’s why we need a Tidemaker.” Jesper’s smile starts to drop from his face. Suddenly, pieces are starting to fall into place. Inej’s warning. Kaz’s mention of a Tidemaker. Jesper shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you got the one Tidemaker I’m thinking of. Please say you brought in somebody else.”

Kaz opens his mouth to either condemn this or save Jesper’s skin, but then a voice rings out from the newly opened door and Jesper’s spirits sink into his boots. “Afraid not, Fahey. They’ve brought me.” Jesper turns around, finding himself face to face with a girl just walking into the office, hand loosely wrapped around the wooden doorframe. She tosses him a smile as if they’re old friends, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jesper whirls back around to face Kaz. “You didn’t. You’re really trusting her? Y/N L/N?” Kaz shrugs. “She’s the best there is, unfortunately. We need to remain hidden, and she’s the only one who won’t rat us out or let us drown.” Y/N walks further into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I appreciate the vote in confidence, but don’t worry about me. I can get you in and out, no problem. Well, the only problem will be you, sharpshooter.”

Jesper feels the sudden need to grab one (or maybe both) of his revolvers and let fly with his bullets. Can a Tidemaker wash away a hail of ammunition? Jesper’s assuming not. Kaz taps his cane against the floor. “Let’s not reach to violence just yet, Jesper. Wait until after the extraction is over.” Jesper throws one last glare Y/N’s way. “Trust me, I’ll have no problem with that.” He can wait, after all.

The problem with Y/N L/N is this: she keeps finding a way to meddle with everything he does. First, Jesper was on a heist by himself, breaking into a stronghold of the Dime Lions to snatch up an encoded message left by Pekka Rollins. He was doing fine until a wave of water cascaded in through the windows, knocking him aside and thoroughly drenching the paper. It was useless now, both to Rollins and to Kaz. Y/N had only bothered to toss a wink across the room before leaving, allowing her wave to soak Jesper’s boots while she was at it.

The second time was during a shootout. She’d been hired to the other side, although Jesper hadn’t known it yet. Jesper was just about to fire upon the lousy goon who’d hired her when she’d used her powers again, this time specifically intending to ruin his guns. His precious pearl-handled revolvers, soaked through with water. It had taken him forever to get the saltwater out of every crack and groove in the metal, and during all of that time he’d vowed to himself that he’d be the one to darken her doorway and make Y/N regret ever stepping foot against him again.

Jesper had won the third time. This time, he was the unexpected guest, and she was seconds away from drowning an entire swath of gang members to protect a secret. She was just raising her hands to move the water into place when a gunshot sounded from out of nowhere and she was knocked sideways, hand already raising to the stain of red starting to bloom out from her arm. It wouldn’t kill her, unfortunately, but it was enough to give the gang members time to escape. Some of them were Dregs, after all, and Jesper had some friends to protect. That isn’t to say that he didn’t walk away with a smile, just that he had multiple motives.

Needless to say, he didn’t exactly have the best history with Y/N L/N. And now Kaz was asking him to have her back during a heist? It sounds like a joke. Unfortunately, Jesper has a sinking feeling that there’s no getting out of this. If he’s going to have to depend on Y/N for his life, things might not exactly go according to plan. He has no idea where Y/N’s loyalties lie, he reasons, but Jesper thinks there might be more to it than that.

The group meets up at the water’s edge. The canals bleed into the harbor here, and Jesper can just make out the lights of Joeri ter Steege’s mansion across the glittering black of the waves. He can also make out a slight tension in Kaz’s grip on his cane as he takes in the sight of the undulating water, but that isn’t for him to notice. Y/N melts out of the shadows, a blue lining on her coat the only indication that she might still cling to Ravkan traditions for Grisha. “Well?” She asks, walking past them as if not expecting an answer, “Are we ready?”

Y/N spreads her hands and the water of the harbor flickers and shifts on the surface. As Jesper watches, Y/N steps forward, and the water solidifies under her feet as if she’s walking on glass instead of the tides. She pushes her hands apart, and the area of solid water expands until it’s large enough to act as a bridge. She turns to the rest of the group. “We can walk from here. It’ll be faster than a boat, and far more quiet.” 

Kaz nods, beginning to walk after her on the bridge of water. Before his feet leave the ground, his mouth moves once. “No mourners.” Jesper nods. “No funerals.” They won’t be able to speak as freely at the mercher’s island, so this will do best. Jesper considers the unmoving waves one last time, then follows him. He’s half expecting Y/N to let the water liquify under his feet just a little bit, out of spite, but it holds. They continue along the harbor, and if Jesper turns his head he can see the bridge rippling back into normal water after they pass by it. It raises the hairs on the back of his neck to see his escape route disappear so quickly, but Jesper does his best to quiet the voice of warning. Kaz would never bring Y/N in if he thought she would betray them, and even if he did, Kaz would have another way out. That’s just the way Dirtyhands worked.

All the same, Jesper feels a little better when his heels land on solid ground once more. Kaz doesn’t have to say a word, just points at the roof. Jesper nods, remembering the plan. He and Y/N split away from Kaz and Inej, heading towards the roof for their line of entry. When Jesper had heard this part of the plan, he had complained viciously. Why should he have to go scale the building alone with Y/N? Why couldn’t Inej go instead? In the end, it hadn’t mattered- the plan needed them both there, so that’s where they would go.

Jesper doesn’t exactly have Inej’s skill in climbing, but ter Steege makes it easy. There are balconies and handholds practically everywhere, as if the merch is offering free mansion climbing lessons to anyone interested. Jesper supposes that one would be less concerned about robberies if you had a moat, but still. You have that much money, you might as well pretend to make it hard for light-fingered con artists.

Soon enough, Jesper and Y/N are standing on the roof, staring down at the fourth skylight from the left. This is where they’ll enter, once it reaches eleven bells and it’s time to move. Now, however, all they can do is wait as Kaz and Inej get into position. Jesper carefully sits down, letting his long legs prop up against the tiles of the roof. Y/N sits next to him, staring up at the sky. The moon is out tonight, the pale light illuminating her eyes and dusting her cheeks.

Distantly, Jesper realizes that he’s never seen her like this- letting her guard down for once. He’s not shooting at her, she’s not trying to drown him, it’s almost like a peace offering. Y/N must be having the same thoughts, because she turns to face him. The moonlight still stays on her face, as if unwilling to let go. Jesper has the sudden thought that he wouldn’t want to do the same either, if he had the opportunity to linger here, then shakes himself mentally.

Y/N’s voice is quiet, a whisper cutting through his thoughts and scattering them to the wind. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been fighting when we first met each other? Would we have been friends like you and Kaz?” Jesper chuckles in spite of himself. “If you think Kaz Brekker makes friends, I’m starting to think that you’ve suffered a head injury.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “He trusts you. That’s rare.” Jesper shrugs, conceding this. He keeps speaking, though, even when he has just decided to remain silent. “I think we could have been close. We have similar interests.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Money? A good time?” Jesper flashes her a grin, easy as flipping a coin and landing it square in your palm. “Exactly. See? We already understand each other perfectly.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh at that, moonlight still teasing at the corner of her lips. Jesper’s eyes linger longer than they should. Curse his tendencies to start rivalries with the prettiest of enemies- it’s beginning to get him into trouble. Y/N’s head tilts towards the tides below, and then she stands. “It’s time. The bells are about to ring.” Jesper mourns the moment lost, then stands and takes his position by the skylight. He waits for the bells to begin to toll, then grabs his revolver, spinning it back and forth in his palm like a nervous tic before firing four times at the corners of the window, exactly where the locks will hold.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes track the spin of the gun, or the admirative tug of her lips into a half smile. However, now is no longer the time for schoolboy glances, and Jesper kneels at the window, carefully removing it from its frame. This is their entrance, and they would do well to hurry along.

The plan almost goes well. Almost. They manage to break into the mercher’s office, stealing the documents and meeting up with Kaz and Inej to get out, but just as they’re about to cross through the main atrium of the mansion, a loud dissonance of bells breaks out. An alarm. Jesper sees identical looks of panic reflected on every face- this was not supposed to happen. Not at all. They don’t hesitate, just run. Jesper’s lived in the Barrel long enough to remember this one lesson: when you can’t count on gangs or anyone to have your back, your feet always will. Just remember to keep moving.

They’re almost to the water’s edge when the shots ring out. Guards have followed them out of the building and fire even as their feet pound down the beach. Jesper’s revolvers are in his hands before another second can pass, bullets aimed with precision as he runs. They’re almost to the water when he hears a sound from behind him that draws all breath from his lungs. From here, it almost sounds like a cry of pain. It’s soft, as if someone’s trying not to draw attention, but Jesper hears it nonetheless.

He turns around and his stomach clenches with horror as he realizes he was right. Y/N is stumbling, clutching a terrible scarlet stain across her chest. It’s deep, too deep, and far too close to her heart to be safe. Y/N has time to fling her arms up, casting out the bridge of water once more, before she falls to the ground. All of a sudden, Jesper’s vision tunnels. He can only see two things: Y/N, hand limp over the spreading blood, and the guards, pistols still smoking.

Jesper’s shots ring out again and again. He can’t hear anything other than a buzzing in his ears, something that might be his pulse or just a sign that he’s gone mad. To be honest, Jesper’s not sure that he cares. Bullets careen through the air, curving around pillars and corners to reach their targets. His da would panic to see him, grab Jesper by his shoulders and tell him to be more careful. Anyone could know now, could see the way the bullets fly through the air as if guided by an invisible hand and figure out what that means, but Jesper doesn’t think about that for a second. All he can think about is revenge, and making sure that every single body falls to the ground.

Jesper’s haze leaves him, and he realizes that all of the guards are dead. All of them. Then his guns are back in their holsters, and he’s scrambling towards Y/N. When he picks her up, she feels cold. Too cold. Blood is staining his hands now, turning the long fingers red, but he barely notices at all. His heels flash down the beach, then onto the water, which is still solid. It must be killing her to keep this up, but she’s still doing it.

Jesper swore that it took far longer to make the trip over the harbor, but it feels like he’s barely taken a few steps before he’s on the other side and the water bridge is swallowed up by the tides once more. Kaz and Inej have just made it onto the other side, and their eyes widen at the crazed look on Jesper and the bloodied form of Y/N in his arms. Jesper doesn’t have time to consider this, and he shouts at them as he runs. “Get a healer! Get somebody- Nina, maybe. Anybody.”

Inej takes off into the streets, but Kaz remains, giving Jesper a particular look. “I remember you saying something about how Y/N was your rival. This is your chance, you know. The Barrel can be a ruthless place, and nobody would suspect you if she never made it back.” Jesper has the feeling that this is a test, some challenge placed before him to see how he’ll respond, but he can’t find it within himself to care. Jesper has always had an affinity for the odds, but this once, it’s not enough. “No. I’m getting her out. I need a Healer.”

Kaz steps back, allowing Jesper to pass, but not before he sees the appraising look in his eyes. Kaz nods once, briefly, and then Jesper is around the corner and sprinting headlong towards the Slat. A Healer is indeed waiting there, and holds out her arms to receive Y/N. For a second, Jesper’s arms clench around her body, unwilling to give her up, and then he forces his arms to relax and she’s gone, carried away into another room.

Jesper is left with the blood staining his shirt and the decision staining his conscience. If Y/N died, was it his fault? Should he care this much? He’s not sure that question can even be answered. The Healer comes out eventually, nodding at him. She’s not ready to have visitors, or at least she won’t be awake to see them, but that doesn’t stop Jesper from disappearing into her room the second the Healer leaves.

Jesper feels his throat close up when he sees her. Y/N is lying stiff and unmoving on a narrow bed, breath unnaturally slow and eyes closed. It’s strange- he’s seen her fiery and powerful, glowing as a Grisha does after they use their powers, but now she looks seconds from death. Jesper’s feet carry him woodenly over to the bed, and he stands there for a moment before reaching down and taking her hand. He doesn’t expect to feel anything at all, yet there’s a slight pressure and her eyelids flicker open.

“What, trying to finish the job?” A slight smile cracks Y/N’s lips, and Jesper feels like he could cry out in relief. Maybe it’s time he takes up Inej’s saints after all. “You’re alright?” She nods, although even this small movement appears to hurt. “As well as one can. I think I have someone to thank for that, though.” Jesper nods slowly. “Yeah, the Healer was great. We should keep her around just in case.”

Y/N laughs, the sound undamaged even as her blood still stains the bandages. “You’re impossible. I’m talking about you.” Jesper’s cheeks feel hot. “Oh.” Now this is unreal- usually he’s the one eliciting blushes, never the other way around. “I couldn’t just leave you there, you know.” She nods once, smiling, and then her eyelids seem too heavy to stay open and she starts to drift off to sleep once more. If Jesper happened to stay with her even after her eyes shut, and even if a kiss just happened to be pressed to her cheek, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

45 and 46 with tom please? 💗

You've got it! I just went to the fair so I felt like it was the perfect time to write this lol. I hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is appreciated, love you guys xx

Reminder that you can keep sending in requests for the Summer of Love until September 22nd!

Penguins and Popsicles

45 - Trying to win a prize at the fair

46 - Your mouths getting dyed different colors from popsicles

Pairing: Tom x Reader

Summary: You and Tom spend the day at the fair

Taglist

Summer of Love

Masterlist

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“I think this is the last of the big rides,” (y/n) peaked around as they joined the line for the tilt-a-whirl.

Tom sighed in relief, “Good, I don’t know how much more my stomach can take.”

“We don’t have to go on this one,” she frowned.

“No, no, I’ll be fine darling,” he assured, “I’m sure I’ll still be able to handle the ferris wheel tonight.”

“Alright,” she smiled and kissed his cheek, “After this we should go play some games, I wanna try and win that cute penguin we saw.”

“Oh you’re getting the penguin, I’m gonna get you the fucking huge one too darling,” he beamed.

“Well considering all the games are totally rigged, I’ll be happy with just the small one.”

“No way, my peach deserves the best, I don’t care how much I have to spend, I’m winning you that penguin.”

“Will it be the pink one too?”

“Of course it’ll be the pink one! And we’re gonna put it right in the living room so everyone can see how much I love you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“The tilt-a-whirl was a bad idea,” Tom groaned as they got off the ride, holding onto (y/n) for stability.

She frowned, “If you throw up on me I’m ditching you.” “I’m not gonna throw up,” he rolled his eyes, “And I’d at least be able to make it to the trash can if I did.”

“As long as it doesn’t end up on me I’m happy,” she squeezed his hand as she weaved them through the crowd, “Drink some water, it’ll settle your stomach.”

“Thanks peach,” he chuckled as he sipped at her water bottle, “Alright, where’d you see that penguin?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down for a little while first?”

“Of course not, a little tummy ache isn’t going to stop me from winning you that prize. Now, where is the penguin?”

“Up this way, it was at the balloon dart throw thing. You know those games are totally rigged though.”

“Well my love can overcome any obstacles,” he wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed a loud kiss to her cheek.

She laughed as she pushed him off of her, “Knock it off.”

“Don’t fight my love darling,” he kissed her again.

“You’re such a dork,” she rolled her eyes as they approached the booth, “Alright lover boy, give it a go.”

“You two playing?” the girl running the booth smacked her gum before motioning for them to pass them their ticket cards.

“Oh no, just him,” (y/n) pushed Tom up.

He offered his wrist with a smile, “How much for the big penguin?”

“Three balloons, two balloons gets you a small prize, one gets you nothing,” she slammed three darts down in front of him and sighed, “Go ahead.”

“Can I get a good luck kiss?” he smirked, wiggling his brow suggestively.

(y/n) rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek, “There, you better win now.”

“I will, I will,” he assured. He took his time aiming and missed all three shots. (y/n) laughed behind him while he flushed, “Yeah I was warming up, let me go again.”

The woman scanned his card and Tom went again, managing to pop a single balloon. He didn't manage to hit even two of the balloons until his fifth turn, winning (y/n) a small stuffed dog. But it wasn’t enough for Tom, he kept going, burning through their tickets without ever managing to win the big prize. He’d collected a small fish and snake in addition to the dog, but the penguin remained elusive.

“One more time,” Tom insisted.

“Tom we only have enough tickets left for the ferris wheel,” (y/n) whined, “And I’ve already got these three little prizes, there’s no more room in my purse.”

He looked between her and the booth before sighing, “Okay, I guess we can forget about the penguin…”

She nodded, “Yes, let's just go ride the ferris wheel instead,” she pulled him away from the booth as he flashed his sad puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t win you the penguin peach.”

“Tommy I don’t need a penguin, I’ve got a dog, and a fish, and a snake,” she emphasized each animal as dramatically as she could, “And the best boyfriend in the world. I'm more than happy with all of that.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “And I’d be happy with a nice, romantic kiss at the top of the ferris wheel.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

Their walk to the ferris wheel ended up taking a detour to a popsicle stand, Tom picked cherry while (y/n) opted for blue raspberry. It was (y/n)’s suggestion, she insisted they’d need something to keep them cool while they waited to reach the top of the ride. Which was good because Tom couldn’t stand how slow the ferris wheel moved once they were actually on it.

“This sucks,” Tom whined, “I mean can’t they just let us go?”

“You get sick on the fast rides, but then the slow rides are too slow?” (y/n) rolled her eyes, “Are you ever satisfied?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I like the thrill rides, they just make me sick. And this one just sucks while they’re loading people on, which is taking them forever. I could load these carts in like two seconds.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just open the little gates and shove the fuckers in there, it’s not that hard.”

“I like how slow it is, you get to enjoy the view for longer.”

“Oh yeah, like I really care about a view when I spend all day looking at you,” he rolled his eyes.

Her cheeks flushed and she turned her attention back to the popsicle, “You’re so cheesy.”

“I think you like it,” he teased.

“In your dreams,” she stuck her tongue out, making him laugh.

“Tongue’s blue lovie.”

She giggled, “Yeah, your lips are like, bright red.”

“Red huh?” he smirked before pulling her towards him, “You know what my favorite color is peach?”

“You’re gonna say blue and then kiss me aren’t you?” she smiled smugly, “Cheesy and predictable.”

“No, I was gonna say purple and then I was gonna french you,” he corrected before pecking her lips, “But you ruined it.”

“I didn’t ruin it, we’ve still got a whole half of a ferris wheel ride to make out,” she reminded, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him once again.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(y/n) peaked around curiously as she left the bathroom, she’d sprinted there straight after the ferris wheel, expecting her boyfriend would be right behind her. Now she was worried he’d gotten lost in the crowds somewhere, taking her purse and phone with him. She couldn’t imagine how impossibly embarrassing it would be to have to go to the missing kids booth because she lost her boyfriend. Luckily she spotted him wiggling his way through the crowd, attempting not to hit anyone with the giant pink penguin in his arms.

“Tom!” her jaw fell, “How the hell did you get that?!”

“I won it,” he beamed.

“How? I was only in the bathroom for like, a minute!”

“By giving the girl at the booth twenty bucks,” he shoved the penguin into her arms with a smile.

She bit her bottom lip as she hugged the penguin against her chest, “You didn’t have to do that Tom.”

“No, but I told you I’d get you that penguin, no matter how much I had to spend,” he paused to kiss her forehead, “Plus just look how happy you are now. You know I’d do anything to see that pretty smile of yours.”

She sighed before throwing her arms around him, “I really do have the best boyfriend in the world.”

He laughed and squeezed her against him, “And I’ve got the best girlfriend in the world. This beautiful, perfect, amazing girl who I’ve just had the best day with, and now I’d like to have the best night curled up in bed with.”

“Now that sounds absolutely wonderful,” she agreed, “You, me, the penguin, and Tessa.”

“Nothing better than a night with my three favorite girls.”

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Taglist:

@niallberry @spideyssunshine @namoreno @thevery-firstpage @outshineallthestars @roseke @zspideyy @emistrash @andreagf956 @tomsirishgirlx @peachyafshawn @agbspidey

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 3: Counteroffer

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements Continue; Dub-Con; Angst; Politics; Possessive/Manipulative Behavior; Spanking; Choking; Crying; The Dove is Probably Dead: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The return of an old friend brings back the ghosts of old memories.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2

Notes: Shorter chapters my ass, these outlines are getting unreal. Andy Barber has arrived, Steve Rogers does not approve, the Reader bears the consequences. Things are going to be angstier from here on out and I can feel it in my bones. Please don’t yell at me — or do, your feedback is well-loved and appreciated even if it’s yelly.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

You met Andy Barber fresh from the ashes of his divorce, escaping the gossip and scandal and pain of his past life only to dive into the gossip and scandal and pain of politics. Senatorial campaign, in need of an aide and a law student desperate to do more for the people than hours in clinics and mock trials. Hungry for something grassroots, angling for the impossible.

A match. Whether made in Heaven or Hell feels irrelevant now, long ago as it was.

It was then. This… is now.

Hey Sunshine, didn’t think you’d be able to make it.

He looks the same. Keeps the same beard. Same hair. It’s uncanny and familiar and safe all at once and you slide into the booth with your purse by your side and feel genuinely smiley for the first time in a long time.

It’s been a while since I heard that name.

Yeah? It’s been a while since I got to use it.

The silence is heavy, unwelcome, unwieldy, a reminder of the space between what was and what is.

How’re you doing? Last I heard you were making a name for yourself taking down the…

He trails off, eyes fixed on the slide of your gaze, the sudden interest in a drink menu you wouldn’t normally touch, the tremor of your lips. A man doesn’t serve as Assistant District Attorney for the many years he has without picking up tells.

Sunshine.

Andy…

It’s a warning, a plea, a… confession, all at once, and all the dogged determination in the world can’t hold against the break in your voice, in your control. You’ve cried more in the past few weeks than you can recall and now here he is, soulful eyes and a worried expression and he’s never hugged you really, but suddenly you might want it just that much more.

Don’t be an idiot.

It’s dangerous, your stress, and you know it.

Dangerous enough to send you into the arms of the next safe thing — this is why you don’t do this, isn’t it, this reaching out bit, but no advocacy group on the planet is going to save you from yourself today.

I saw… I saw you win that case. Pretty brutal, standing up to the Syndicate, and getting what you did. He steamrolls past the way you wince, his thumb on that metaphorical bruise and pressing, the Prosecutor’s dogged determination demanding answers, I have a friend in the office, he was convinced you’d be climbing the ranks.

Every word is a twist of the knife, couched in quiet concern, gentle admonition, a warm hug in a smoky tenor and you want to tell him everything, you want to break down in his arms and tell him every word, every buried piece of you he never learned, everything that’s led you to this.

You don’t.

You know better than to trust him too. No one’s going to take care of you but you so instead you shake your head and wave it off and Decided going into the private sector was the better option — one big win doesn’t really make up for the stress, you know.

Private sector. That’s what you’re calling the SHIELD Syndicate now? C’mon, Sunshine…

Look. It’s the Syndicate’s New York, when he made the offer it was… safer than saying no. It’s a cushy position anyway, and I didn’t want anyth—

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you and you’re digging a hole trying to explain your way out of it so you just… shut up, shaking your head, It’s not important. I’m fine. I’m more curious about you — what year is it now, your fourth? What are you doing in New York?

The deflection works, but the look on his face is obvious — you’re not getting out of this so easily. He gives in for now, just for now, for you.

Almost fifth, gearing up for re-election. Had a meeting up here… about the organized crime situation for both states, and I remembered you were in the area.

Oh. You… it’s been a while since we talked, you remembered?

You expect me to forget you, Sunshine?

That stops you in your tracks, or whatever road your mind had been racing on, thoroughly not enjoying the defensive you’ve been on since you met with Steve, constantly under watch and waiting for yet one more shoe to fall on you.

That’s fear, sweetness.

Andy…?

You were the best campaign aide I had — I told you then too, I would have made you Chief of Staff if you’d let me.

It’s a good save. A clever save, and you want to believe it more than anything, want to believe it was all business and no pleasure because the alternative makes your nails bite into the table and want to turn tail before he can say another word and he… sees that panic flicker over your face so keenly it’s almost embarrassing.

You’re not used to this.

You’re not used to the warmth of his eyes when he searches your face for the answers you can’t give voice to. You’re not used to the way he reaches for your hand and rests it over your fingers, curling around your palm like he might actually keep you close and keep you safe and keep you free of the demons you made a part of yourself too.

Sunshine, why does his voice have to be so soft, why does it have to sound like molten honey on your senses, why does he have to say your name like it’s the very definition of the word hope, If you’re not safe…

No. No you’re not, tell him tell him the truth, tell him you’re atoning for the girl you could not protect tell him you aren’t worth it tell him this is your penance tell him you signed a death warrant tell him tell him tell him.

Andy, really. I’m fine. It’s a good job.

It’s a shit lie.

He drops it. Drops it just long enough for a waiter to finally come by, for his hand to leave yours while he talks through the wine menu. Drops it long enough for you to check your phone, realizing with horror that you must have silenced it absentmindedly sometime on your way here.

Ten missed calls.

All from Steve.

And one text, stamped from just five minutes ago.

[SMS] Either you pick up your phone or I pick you up, Counsel.

The next one comes right before your eyes, a picture of a map and a GPS pin. Your location.

You glance up at Andy, still talking to the waiter about the small plates options, feign a smile and Go ahead and choose, you have better taste than me, and return to staring at the picture and the three dots at the bottom of your screen, waiting to see his next message.

[SMS] Make your choice.

The haptic feedback of your keyboard feels like an electric shock with every letter, hurried fingers until you manage to tap out something that won’t immediately put the man in front of you in the crosshairs of the most dangerous organization in New York.

You can’t do that to him. You can’t.

[SMS] I’m at a dinner with a friend.

[SMS] And since I know there’s no emergencies pressing, I’d like my time, thank you.

You have the good sense to set it next to you this time, watching your screen light up with whatever furious response he sends next, glancing over only occasionally every time another one comes through. Don’t let him control you. Don’t let him think you’re at his beck and call.

You’re not.

You’re free, you’re free and you’re going to prove it.

Sunshine? What’s going on?

His voice cuts through the haze of panic like a knife and you swear you don’t mean to jump but you do and there’s no denying what he notices, eyes narrow and lips turned down in a sharp scowl, Sunshine…?

You are not that girl. You cannot be that girl, never again.

Steel. Steel yourself, flash him a smile, take a sip of the ice water left in front of you while you’d been checking your phone, reset yourself. Steady. Steady on.

Don’t let them know.

Nothing, nothing, just the boss — let him know I was busy.

Why is he texting you after hours? The Syndicate can’t be that busy.

He’s too watchful for your own good. Probably just making sure I’m staying out of trouble.

Are you?

Are you calling yourself trouble, Senator?

You like this. You can handle this, the trading of jokes, the crooked way he smiles. His eyes are a little more distant than you remember but you can still see them sparkle softly when he suppresses a laugh, lighting up properly when the joy reflects in them.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he really laughed was.

By the time dinner is over, his hand, warm and steady, is back on yours as you talk — and for a moment you almost enjoy the way he runs his thumb over your knuckles absently, like he’s making careful appraisal of each one. Could use your skills for the re-election campaign, you know.

Really? You’ve got a gorgeous approval rating, what are you afraid of?

Not having my good luck charm on the staff.

Andy…

I’m dead serious, Sunshine, you ran that ship. You were what, a 2L? Rising 3? You had canvassing down to a science. We need that energy down on the Hill.

The curve of his fingers is a little tighter now, squeezing yours, like proof of his earnestness and oh, you want to keep believing him. You need to keep believing him.

There’s so much in New York I have to get done first. And besides, you know me. I want a life on the bench.

Justice Sunshine, and it sounds absurd when he uses your nickname and it sounds so real when he uses your nickname and in the warm smoke of his voice those contradictions can live together all at once.

That’s the one. Closest you’ll see me to Washington is when I’m appointed to the Supreme Court. It’s a dumb, arrogant, silly joke but it’s the same one you used to make with him over drinks, teasing him about his political goals and making him promise to “go easy on you” at your eventual Senate confirmation hearing.

It’s the one that makes him crack that too-beautiful crooked smile while he takes a sip of his drink — hiding the curve of his lips behind the rim of a heavy glass.

Well. If you ever decide to ditch—

Ever decide to ditch what?

The world moves in slow motion: hearing the low growl from behind you; Andy Barber looking up and rising to his feet, his hand slipping from yours with just the ghost of his comfortable touch to assure you; Steve Rogers coming into view as you turn, flanked by the not-entirely-unfamiliar faces of two of his enforcers — it looked like Wilson and Banner had been selected this evening — and the sudden pressure of knowing you’ve done something terribly, terribly wrong.

You stood me up, Counsel. Steve’s voice is a threat, a half-drawl as you stand up and face him, Andy right behind you, Something wrong with taking my phone calls?

She was busy, the sound of Andy’s voice is a balm to your soul and fuel to Steve’s fire, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth and resists the temptation to throw the first punch — you can see the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist, can’t you? The slow curve, the watching, wondering if you’ll make the right choice now that someone has chosen to try to lead you astray.

And who the fuck are you? If he can’t get you to respond, he’ll get something from the man talking for you, eyes trained on him like he’s debating whether his own frustration will make this interloper turn to nothingness and return you to his arms where you rightfullybelong.

Do you? Rightfully belong?

Senator Andy Barber. The title practically knocks the wind out of Steve’s sails and you can see it — he may be the Captain here, King of New York, ruler of his domain but he’s not stupid enough to openly attack a man with connections beyond the Syndicate’s web of influence. It’s a comfort and it’s not, all at once.

The room is still, vibrating with tension, the two men staring daggers at one another and you caught in the middle. I worked on Senator Barber’s campaign when he first ran for election, you manage out in some vain hope it might explain and mollify, only to be thoroughly disappointed — and judging by the way Banner winces, only to dig your grave further.

We’re talking about this later, Counsel. You’re coming home.

And what gives you the right to give her orders? You really are going to have to look back at Andy and beg him to not make this worse. You really are going to have to let him see your face, see that you’re afraid, sweetness. He’s not going to let you go easy and this should not terrify you as much as it does.

Senator Barber. It’s fine. Something must have come up,turning to face his burning eyes, until his face softens like he’s seeing you for the first time. And is he? Is he seeing how you just need him to let it go, let you go, drop the protectiveness and step back?

He has to, because he does, nodding before he grabs his coat and glances to the host station. If you say so, Sunshine. Take care of yourself. He doesn’t press, not knowing when he’s beat but knowing when you don’t want him to. When you’re not safe.

And Steve Rogers offers you his hand to walk you out.

And just what the hell did you think you were doing!?

Oh, and you control my time off the clock now too?

He dragged you back home.

No. Not to your apartment, that sanctuary away from all this you’d been allowed to keep as part of the “deal.” His home, the bedroom where you signed yourself away, the space he unraveled you and left you tangled in your new life.

He dragged you back home, in the grim silence of the backseat of his car and you waited. Waited for the inevitable explosion, the one prefaced by Wilson’s nervous looks and Banner’s cautious stare.

This explosion, where he rounds in on you, where livid is still too tame a term.

Meeting with a Senator? Ignoring my calls? I told you, you were mine tonight.

And I told you I had plans.

After I told you that you were mine, Counsel.

Okay. That’s true, even if you’re loathe to admit it.

Plans adjust. Andy wanted to—

Oh, Andy now? I thought it was Senator Barber? You’re really familiar with him, aren’t you, Counsel?

Just what the fuck are you implying?

Maybe you need a reminder of who you belong to.

He loves to do this. Wrap his big hand around your throat, remind you just how easily he can impose his power onto you, watch your protests die behind your eyes when you realize how useless words are in the face of his violence.

The furious look in your eyes is something to behold, the way you embed your nails into his wrist to try and drag him off you, all soft snarls and indignant huffs, You fucking asshole…

You’re mine, Counsel, and don’t you forget it. You gave yourself to me, remember?

Like I… like I had much of a choice, breathy, furious, and clawing at him.

Doesn’t matter. You’re mine, and clearly I need to make sure you know it…

Steve—!

Captain, sweetness, Captain, and don’t you forget it.

There’s a moment, when anger becomes transcendental, when it turns into something cold and calculating and prepared, when a plan forms behind his eyes and you watch as he looks down at you, so full of fury and fear all at once and you watch as he leans in so close and you feel his hand slide until he has you by the back of the neck, until his thumb is the thing pressing under your chin to keep your eyes on him, until the heel of his hand is the thing keeping you from shouting at him further. Such a stubborn little bitch…

You can almost see the words forming in his mind, the ones his mouth won’t say, I could be so good to you, but he doesn’t say them, sliding his lips over yours instead and it is… soft. A capturing of your mouth with his, not caring that you protest, only insistent on leaving you breathless and hazy-eyed from each tug of his lips on yours and there stokes the warmth of more than your rage, a different fire rising in your core, unbidden and unwelcome but yours to own and his to play with.

He can sense it, practically feel it, that mad serum racing through his veins and making his nostrils flare as he pulls back and watches you, lets the scent of your perfume fill his senses like a drug he can’t get enough of and, I should hate you too, for this, whispered low and hushed and you barely catch it, don’t you? Barely, but enough, enough to remember it was said just before he pulls you down with him into the depths of his own lust.

And into his lap, it seems, as he drags you down, sitting on the bed with you draped over his lap, an effortless shift in his skillful hands. You can protest, and you do, even daring to try to pull away with a kick of your legs and an indignant, What the hell do you think you’re doing?But you know it’s all futile, useless as he places one heavy hand on your back and lets the other slide over the smooth chiffon of your blouse, tracing a line along your spine with careful, practiced ease.

Would have preferred this with a little more… circumstance, sweetness, but you need to learn a lesson now and drastic times call for drastic measures.

You can turn your head slightly, to look at him, that wild-eyed fury so sweet on your face and you are still a wild creature he needs to tame but he is patient and he can do this for as long as it takes.

But you’re a sight like this, draped over his lap in a pencil skirt and blouse, so put together and proper and now so prone to him, helpless under the appraisal of his hands and the way he takes no time in hiking your skirt up around your waist. Captain! Your protest is met with a low chuckle, especially as he lets his palm curve around the round swell of your ass, before leaving a light swat on the soft flesh, to draw a yelp from your furious mouth.

If that’s all it takes to get you shouting, sweetness, you’re going to hate what comes next, smug and cruel, as you try to hold yourself up enough to look at him, met with his smirk and the simmering fury still bubbling in his eyes. To say you’re in danger still is an understatement, no doubt, and you know it.

I won’t make you count this time, but piss me off again, sweetness, and we’ll just see how much you can take, you hear me?

Oh you loathe him, really and truly loathe him, hissing with anger and embarrassment, so close to twisting in his arms and clawing at him but remembering his size and just how much worse it could get — but then there lies the undercurrent.

The one you loathe too, more than you hated him, that warmth. Seeping into your core, a low heat kindled by the sly softness of his lips on yours and the sure tenor of his voice, low and soothing even as he promised damnation. The one that — just like now — leaves you flushed and writhing while he purrs threats to you, massaging the soft skin and sliding the lace of your panties down to remove all barriers to the sex he owns so surely.

You open your mouth to argue with him but as you do, you feel his hand lift from your flesh and then the resounding SMACK of palm on skin, turning words into nothing but a sharp cry of pain, surprise, and lust. The heat rises just as your body tenses, reacting to the sudden attack on your delicate form, cheeks flushed. Even as your eyes well with tears your sex strives to betray you and — Oh do you like that, sweetness? — damn him for noticing.

Let me go, Captain, the threat is shaky, your voice wavering with something like want and panic all at once, and all it does is draw another laugh as he soothes the stinging mark left on your cheek, gentle as a lover and four times as cruel.

Do you know what I think, sweetness? And another raise of his palm, to strike you once more, listening to the way that cry of pain and surprise turns into a soft, involuntary moan the moment he begins to soothe the ache, I think you need this. Always so uptight, trying to be the head bitch in charge, aren’t you? Just looking for someone to take over, take control, remind you where your place is.

His fingers slip further, more interested in exploring the soft slickness of your sex, listening to your protests die in your throat with every press of his fingers into your plush folds. That’s why I’m here, to keep you in my lap, all fucked and soft, sweetness. Don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of you. Even if I have to teach you just like this.

You should hate the way he talks, hates how he finds your center with effortless ease, like he’s known your body for years. Holding you down in his lap still as he draws mewling moans from you with every curl of his fingers, finding the proof of his accusations in the slick need coating your thighs, soaking his fingers, You’re making such a mess of me, sweetness. Are you going to be good?

Hiss at him. Snarl at him, buck your hips and twist in his arms, push him away. Do something more than what you are now, with red-rimmed eyes and tears staining your face, do more than listen to him talk, feel his cock pressing against you as you lay in his lap, I’m going to ask it one more time, sweetness. Are. You. Going. To. Be. Good?

He punctuates each word of his question with a harsh smackagainst your ass, leaving little time for you to do more than cry out, until the last spank draws something like a moan from your perfect lips and therein lies your surrender for tonight, that soft mewl of pleasure born of pain and he soothes you again with soft shushes and gentle touches, back to inspecting the renewed slickness of your cunt, back to enjoying that plump tightness wrapped around his fingers and back to trying to control the shift of his own hips and you can feel him, hard against you, needing you as much as he is compelling your body to need him.

Captain… a low, desperate sort of mewl, the squirm of your body less to escape and more to enticeand he notices. Notices the way your fingers try to cling to him, notices how you look so very sweet when you’re so very desperate and in some way this is your own game of control, a push and pull and the curl of his fingers is suddenly so much angrier, driving you to the precipice of the fall and you are tumbling, tumbling down into a darkness of want you may never recover from.

Say it again. Tell me you need me, sweetness, tell me you need me and I’ll give you everything, and there’s an edge to the way he says everything, like he might meanit, like he might give you the world if you just gave in and you hate him, sweetness, you hate him but you need the things you hate once in a while and you can’t keep bearing his fury on your body and so you sob out your surrender and whine—

I need you, Captain, please…

And that is enough.

Let him believe you.

[canonobsessions]

Hey there and welcome to tumblr!! i’m a huge simp for Julian lol im so happy to see somebody writing for TPB! <3 i was wondering if you could write something involving Julian and a cudding -> confession -> sex sort of situation with a female reader?

a/n: I'm so sorry for this late response! I'd be so happy to!

Fandom: Trailer Park Boys

Word Count: 4,243

Scenario: Julian and Reader have an impromptu cuddling session that results in a confession and subsequently, a steamy encounter.

Julian didn't know how it got to this point, but he wasn't about to complain. Sometimes everything just fell into place, so when you arrived that night at his trailer on a cold, dark winter's night he rolled with it. It was just a mishap, your car breaking down before you were able to get home. Like many people, you came to him with your problem.

Unlike with some other people, Julian was happy to help you out. He didn't hesitate when he stepped aside and let you track slushy snow into his home. It didn't even cross his mind until he was stepping in it himself. Even then, it only made him more aware of your state of dress.

You definitely hadn't intended to be out long, with your short sleeves on and little to no protective clothing. You looked frigid and he had just the remedy for it.

So, you wound up on his couch, wrapped up and sharing a blanket with him while watching some schlocky action film. Nothing he was actually paying attention too. How could he be with you in the room, taking a small sip of his Rum and Coke with that pretty smile on your face.

It was almost like a dream.

"Julian, I really can't thank you enough again. I'm sorry to just drop in on you like this," He'd just gotten ready to go to bed when you'd arrived, but even then, it wasn't any kind of a bother with you around. But, he had to play it cool as he always did.

"It's no trouble, [Y/N]. Stop worrying about it," He reassured you for the fifth time, taking the moment to wrap his arm around your shoulder and squeeze reassuringly. "You couldn't help it, probably the cold messing with your car. I'll get some of the guys to help get it fixed in the morning,"

And there was that damn smile that roped him in from the moment he'd met you. At first he'd just thought he was drunk, but he'd come to learn you were as capable and friendly as you were pretty. You were one of the few people who came around the Trailer Park and helped him and his friends out on occasion.

The situation had gotten twisted up to where it almost seemed awkward to pursue you with how close you'd gotten to Bubbles and Ricky as well. That being said, he was also always in a relationship when you weren't. Nothing really ever seemed right until now.

Now. He had to find the courage to say it, but there was that pitch of anxiety in his stomach, the one he thought he could stamp out in almost any occasion, but you were special. He didn't want to mess this up.

"You're really too good to me, Jules," A damn shiver nearly crawled up his spine when you said that. That and the way you were shaking just sent a small thrill through him.

Were you still cold or were you nervous to have his arm around you? With the way you leaned into him further, it couldn't have just been nerves. You did still feel chilly, so he gently rubbed your upper arm. He wasn't just feeling your soft skin under his rough finger tips. This was just part of helping you.

Man was that stupid, he was acting like he hadn't had his fair share of pretty girls over. But, you were more than pretty, you were beautiful. Classy and sweet.

"Just doing what any good friend would," The word friend had a near sour note to it, not from leaving his mouth, but it just rang oddly. He wasn't malicious about it. It just wasn't right.

"Yeah, right!" There was an awkward inflection in your tone, but he wasn't going to push it. You were probably just more comfortable with being friends after all.

"Damn, my feet are still freezing," You'd complain quietly after a brief silence and Julian reacts without thinking about it.

"C'mere," He reached down to your ankle and grabbed it, gently coaxing your feet up onto the couch. You adjusted to the hold folding your legs off to the side. Your [E/C] eyes are filled with curiosity. He offered a smile before drawing your feet into his stomach, where he was more than warm enough to help bring you up to temp.

"When I was a kid, my grandmother would do this for me when I'd come inside after playing in the snow," He recalled the late nights he spent watching old movies with his grandmother, eating snacks and keeping warm and cuddled up together. Of course, she'd been plenty warmed up from the brandy she'd consumed time and time again.

That sweet smile of yours was back once again, but accompanying it was a pretty blush that colored your face perfectly. He couldn't help his mind when it wandered to a less wholesome thought. What would you look like, red and panting under him? What were other ways you of all people could let him warm you up?

"That's really sweet. She must have been one hell of a lady to raise someone as gentlemanly as you, Jules," You might have been somewhat teasing, but he felt warm from the compliment. She had been as good of a role-model as she could be, doing everything she could for not only him, but for Bubbles as well.

"Thanks, [Y/N]," He patted your blanket covered calf with his hand and left it there for a moment, idly tracing his thumb over your muscle in a soothing manner.

Things got quiet again as you both sat there, watching the screen with little interest in what was going on. Julian was far more focused on how good it felt to have you curled against him and to feel your legs move. You were warming up and you were tantalizingly soft. It was driving him crazy, but he was being good.

You didn't drink much of his Rum and Coke, but you did have a sip or two, just to stave off any lingering cold.

"Julian, can I ask you something?" You'd knocked him out of his thoughts with that soft inquiry. He looked at you and felt his stomach flip, seeing your uncertain look.

"Anything," It was one small word, but he put a lot of feeling behind it. It sat heavy between the two of you for a heart-beat. Time really seemed to slow as he felt the way you were starting to shake again. The way you bit your lip and fluttered your lashes, looking at him with those eyes. It really felt like you told him everything he needed to know through body language alone.

Julian leaned in, his dark eyes searching yours for a solid answer, something more than just the way your body was calling out for him.

"Do you like me, just as a friend?" He wanted to kiss the uncertainty right out of your mouth and swallow it. How could someone as beautiful and amazing as you be so unsure of what you did to him?

"More than that," His words came out softer, rougher as he tried to reign himself in. "Does that make you uncomfortable?" He didn't want to scare you. You didn't have a ride home, it was too cold to walk off. He didn't want to misread what was going on. He was playing it safe.

"No!" It was like you were yelping, like he’d hit you in the stomach with that simple question. It gave away how eager you were and Julian couldn’t help but chuckle when you clasped your dainty hand over your mouth. “No, I’m sorry. You could never make me uncomfortable. Well, not like that,” The words fell from your lips like snow from the sky. “So I do make you uncomfortable?” He was teasing you now, relishing in the fact that you’d made that first move. You’d been the one to bravely ask him just what he thought of you and it made you flustered. You weren’t uncomfortable and you didn’t feel unsafe. Good. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it otherwise. “I like you too, Julian,” Finally, you’d admit it yourself. You’d put it out there that you were interested in him and he was interested in you. It was like that last wall came tumbling down. It made you look bare and vulnerable and unsure. That just made him want to scoop you into his arms and show you just how sure he was of the situation. “So, what now,” You’d asked, looking to him for guidance. Those big, beautiful eyes drew him right in. He wasn’t going to answer you with flowery words, he was going to show you. Julian made slow moves, roping you into him with room enough to say no if you wanted to. His large palms felt right at home, gripping your thighs and tugging you to where you were seated firmly on his lap. That little gasp that left your lips only made him drag you down harder onto him, letting you feel just how much he liked you. “What do you want, [Y/N]?” He felt the way you were shaking against him, the way you tilted your pelvis to align yourself with him. As if he were a virgin again, you had him shuddering with his restraint. He palmed your thighs, rubbing them soothingly. “I-I mean, I want you, Julian, b-but not just, ah,” He couldn’t help but to rock himself up into your core when you admitted you wanted him. There was no missing that you wanted more though, so he stilled, his dark eyes searching yours again, wondering what had you hesitating. “I don’t just want to be a fling,” Of course you didn’t, he didn’t either. But, it wasn’t like he had a particularly strong history of long, stable relationships. He had more one-night stands than he did real girlfriends he’d kept in his life. How could you not see you were different than those other girls was lost on him. Both of his hands traced up from your thighs, jumping to smooth up your arms and to your neck. He savored touching you while he thought about just how deeply he wanted to reassure you. He traced a path up to your neck, where he threaded his fingers into your hair, his thumb resting on the slope of your jawline. You wouldn’t be able to look away if you tried. He met your gaze, dark brows set into a serious furrow. “Never. [Y/N], you could never be just a fling for me,” He admitted, his voice hoarse with desire and love. He didn’t want to give you a chance to respond. Gently, he pulled you into a solid, warm kiss. Your lips molded to his perfectly. Just slightly wet from how you’d licked it only moments before. He poured his passion and love for you into it, hoping to smooth out any worries that he wasn’t dead serious on how much he liked you. Julian pulled a weak moan from you when he pulled away, your lips sticking together for a split second, sending a firework of pleasure down his spine. He wanted to devour you. His big hand cradled your head as he went in for another kiss, mouth opening just slightly to mouth your lips, to trace your tongue with his own. Just the coupling, the breathy noises and moans he pulled from you were drowning out the sound of gunfire from the busted up looking television just behind you. Nothing could distract him from how perfect you felt seated on top of him. How delicious your lips were, how easily you opened up to him. How many times had he dreamt of this? Could he even count the times you’d been at the forethought of his mind when he’d jerked himself off in the shower? Now that you’d both been honest, he could make those wild

fantasies real. “Julian,” Your voice was quaking, full of lust and need that he felt hit right through him. If that wasn’t enough to tell him you needed more, the way you were grinding on his hard cock was. A near growl left the dark haired man as he greedily grasped your ass, hoisting you further onto him. He stood up with ease, the blanket covering the two of you quickly forgotten. Any previous cold having been ripped away by red-hot need. That squeal had him chuckling between your dainty kisses. He easily brought you down that narrow hall, taking just a moment to push you against the paneling to indulge in tasting you. His tongue was more than eager to tangle with your own, the sloppy noises louder still now that you were away from the TV. Back on the move, Julian kicked open his bedroom door, relishing in the way you giggled at how forceful he’d been. Instead of throwing you onto the bed, he moved all the way to it’s edge, lowering you down onto it like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his hands. “God, you are beautiful, [Y/N],” Julian rasped as he admired how perfect you looked on his bed, flushed and lips swollen from how excited the two of you had been to do something as simple as kiss. “Julian,” Your voice took a serious tone, your own brows ticking down as you reached up with your now warm hands, letting them rest on his face, thumb tracing along the sharply trimmed line of his beard. “Julian, you’re beautiful too, so handsome. I can’t believe you want me too,” You were gushing, about him of all people. Shaking his head, Julian took your hands into his own, placing a kiss on your knuckles. He allowed himself the chance to really look at you, just as you were. His heart filled with affection for you. For just the way you spoke to him, marveling at him. “I can’t believe an angel like you would want anything to do with a man like me,” Julian’s voice was low and dark as he leaned back in, dying for another taste of you. This time, things went further, his hands roaming eagerly while your mouths met passionately in their own special patterns. He squeezed your shoulders, massaged down your arms and to your stomach. Testing the waters, his thick fingers peaked under your flimsy shirt, stroking at the soft skin of your belly. The way your muscles flexed and you moaned made him take liberties, inching up your ribs to rub smooth, firm circles there. With your last chance squandered through a needy moan, Julian’s large hands cupped your breasts for a firm squeeze, savoring in a moment he’d imagined just a short time ago. Julian swallowed every needy noise you made as he massaged your breasts, his hips rolling down to meet your needy movements. All at once there was too much fabric in the way. You were pulling at his shirt as soon as he move away, pulling it off of his body and revealing his strong chest and shoulders. Just as excited, Julian hooked his thumbs into your shirt, pulling it up and hooking your bra with it, baring your chest to him in one smooth motion, proving just how experienced he was. God, you were a delicious sight. Your breasts heaving in the dim light of his room. Gravity knew what it was doing and it had Julian speechless. Before long, the temptation was too strong, he dove in for another kiss, smoothing over your shy features with a reassuring kiss. His lips were eager to move, leaving a damp trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. He licked at the dip of your clavicle and relished in the way you shook and gasped. Smirking up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust, he licked a trail to your right breast, nipping at the flexible flesh he found there. Every little sensation was drawing up for the moment he took your nipple into his hot mouth, tongue lapping as he suckled. He made sure your left breast didn’t go unattended, his thick, rough fingers plucking at the pert tip, rolling the bud in between his fingers, toying with you as he enjoyed himself thoroughly. “God, Julian, your mouth is so warm,” You whimpered, egging him on, your legs curling

around his thighs, beckoning him in for more. But, yet again, there were too many clothes in the way. But, he was a practiced man, he wanted to rile you up. There was an art to getting a woman ready. He switched to the other nipple, leaving the right to tighten and harden in the cold air. Your fingers found his normally tidy black hair, mussing up the styling by tugging him closer. “P-please, stop teasing me,” You needed more, that much was obvious with how insistently you rolled up into him. He could feel just how hot and burning you were at your core, the heat between the two of you felt like it was enough to burn the clothes right from your body. Julian chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he pulled away from your breast. His eyes locked onto yours once more and he gave you a dark smirk. “No need to rush, [Y/N]. You’ll be here until your car is fixed after all,” He teased. You looked so cute when your covered your face, no doubt feeling embarrassed for your needy reaction. He took his time with you. He tasted you, licking a path down your ribs and your stomach, coming to the button of your pants. He didn’t take too long to pull off both them and your panties, revealing your glistening petals to the cool air. You groaned at the sensation and he marveled at just how beautiful you were. Thick fingers traced lazy circles into your inner thighs working their way to your core. He wasn’t ashamed as he looked at your folds, the way your clit was already swollen and eager from the bare minimum frotage. His thumbs swiped along the outer lips, pulling them apart, making way for his broad tongue as he licked a line up from your core to your clit, popping it into his mouth swiftly for a change of pace. You tasted delicious on his tongue, tart and sweet all at once. Greedily, he buried his face into your core, his tongue diving into your soft folds. The tight ring of your cunt was no match for him, the muscle pushed as deep into you as it could, the pad of his thumb taking up stroking your taut pearl in tandem with his thrusts. He listened to your moans as he worked you over, dragging more of your wetness out, preparing you for him. And when it sounded like you were just at your apex, he pulled away. “Oh god, Julian,” It was nearly scolding the way you said his name, but he wasn’t going to leave you wanting for long, deciding to instead unfasten his pants, eagerly ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He stood nude in front of you, taking his large, girthy dick into his hands, stroking it slowly at the debaucherous sight of you, of all people, spread out on his bed, all for him. “Please, I need you, I need you,” That could’ve nearly done him in there, just the way you were pleading for him. Telling him you needed him, and god did he need to be needed. The fact it was just in this way was icing on the cake. Not wasting anymore time, Julian’s hands gripped your hips, lining you up just the way he wanted you. He bent over and steadied himself, peppering your lips with kisses as he guided himself in. Already he could tell you were going to be a tight fit, there was going to be some discomfort, but not for long. It didn’t seem like you minded much, with how eagerly your heels dug into the strong muscle of his back, eager to sink him in. His swollen head pushed into you, sinking deeper with one slow push that had him groaning, his head tilting back as he savored the squeeze around his manhood. His free hand massaged lazily at your stomach as he sunk in. You let out the most tantalizing little grunts and moans, soft hisses as your body adjusted to take his massive size. “Soo big,” You whimpered. God if only you knew what you did to him with that tender little voice. He wanted to bury his cock in you forever and stay there until the day he died. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the last few inches in, steadily massaging you while holding himself back. It wasn’t until you tested the fit by rocking your hips back and forth that he finally allowed himself to take pure pleasure in your body. It wasn’t the

slow pace he’d initially wanted. No, as soon as he was in you, he realized how badly he needed this. For every smile and sweet word, he wanted to set a punishing pace. He wanted to completely fold you in half and hammer his way into your body and show just how badly he needed you. But, for the sake of your health, he set a steady pace. He leaned back to look at the place where your body met his and nearly came right there. “Fuck,” He cursed, staring at the lewd way your cunt was stretched out over his cock. “Sit up, just a bit, fuckin’ look at it,” He coaxed you into sitting up, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck again. Your eyes almost glazed over with how eagerly you looked at your coupling. Your plump, tantalizing lip was gnawed at between your pearly whites. Julian drew back his cock with a hiss, his head rolling back again, only to snap to attention, watching the show as he sunk back into your hot, silky insides. “You’re taking me so well, [Y/N]. You’re doing so good,” He grunted out praise after praise, his pace rocking steadily now, your wetness coating him and guiding him in with more ease. Finally, it seemed you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, instead falling back to moan his name. He doubled over, catching himself again, bracing himself on either side of your head. His pace quickened, he could feel the way his balls slapped against your ass, damp from how wet you were. It made degenerate sounds, slapping skin against skin. It drove him up a wall, almost as much as your blissful expression. He burned the memory of you savoring his cock into the back of his mind, before hooking both of his hands under your knees. With his strength, Julian nearly folded you in half, angling you to where his cock would hit your deepest, most sensitive parts. When he found the place that made you sing loudest, he hammered into it. Not to be ignored, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, freeing up a hand so that he could reach between the two of you and work diligently at your little bud. “Oh god, oh god, Jules, Julian, fuck, fuck, fuck! I-I’m gonna cum,” And he could feel it when it started, the way you arched your back, your hips taking a mind of their own, jerking up to meet his deep thrusts. Your walls clenched so tightly around him he could barely pull away, but he managed to keep his pace, drilling into you. “Fuckin’ cum around me, cum around me, [Y/N], just like that, just like that,” He grunted, thrusting so hard he was shaking the bed beneath you, the sound only adding to the symphony of sex. The rush of sticky fluids made him pound that much harder into you. Your crying, writhing form the perfect state for him to hammer at until he felt his own familiar band pulling tight, eventually snapping as pleasure overwhelmed him. He didn’t pull out as his cum filled your tight little body. He empty his balls as deep into you as he could, his pulsing manhood twitching with every stream of the load. He only realized as he began to come down from his high he’d came right against your cervix. He shuddered out another low groan, joining your soft panting in the air. “Fuck, Julian, ah, hah. I love you,” You were unabashed now, looking at him with your dazed look, as if he were a god and not some backwater trailer park boy. “I love you too, so much,” He hung over you, his sweaty forehead coming to rest against yours. He breathed with you, coming down from his high to finally ease out of you, ignoring the mess he made in favor of pulling you into his arms. The air slowly quieted as you both lay there, basking in bliss, warm and naked despite no blanket. It was hard to believe that he’d been uncertain of your feelings for him. Just an hour ago, neither of you had been aware of just how quickly things would go. But, there were no regrets. Only love and a sense of safety.