#lucy is a pretty decent friend

[barcaatthemoon]

heyy, hope you are having a nice day/night so far!!

I would like to request the prompts: “if you cry, i’ll cry ─ and that won’t be fun for anyone.” or “you canceled plans for me?” with Ona Batlle, please <3

hi, it's only been 3 minutes, but my day is going pretty good so far. hope you have a nice day too stranger.

pick me up || ona batlle x reader ||

everybody could see it coming, but you were the one who knew when to stop in. lucy's departure from barcelona didn't have to mean a break up. ona had told you every single time her and lucy had talked about it. you knew that they'd come to the conclusion that the distance was too much, and when they did, you came running straight to ona's side.

"hey, what are you doing here?" ona rubbed her eyes as she stared at you. your romantic life had been unfulfilling to say the least, despite your various efforts to change that. it was a little cruel that all of your friends were pairing up when you felt like you couldn't get a decent date. "i thought you were going out with that bartender tonight."

"yeah, but you're here all alone and lucy just left. this felt more important," you told her as you shouldered past ona to get inside of her apartment. ona smiled to herself as she shut her door. you had always been incredibly sweet, but the timing was never right between the two of you. lucy may have just left, but ona didn't want to let this opportunity to pass by.

"you cancelled plans for me?" ona asked in disbelief. you nodded as you flopped back onto her couch. ona sat next to you and hugged you tightly, tucking herself beneath your arm. "i'm an idiot."

"no you're not. you couldn't have predicted that lucy would go to chelsea," you said. ona shook her head as she looked up at you. "this isn't about lucy, is it?"

"not at all. i was an idiot about you. you left spain to play with me, and i didn't realize why. i'm sorry that i've made you wait around for so long, but thank you." you were about to ask what ona was talking about when she leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips. it was barely anything, but it meant the world to you. "you're not just my best friend, and i don't think that you ever have been."

"yeah, but i'll be anything you need me to."

[thebisexualdogdad]

can u make a sequel (or maybe even a prequel 😉) to ur tim x male! chen reader fic?

Lucy's brother part 1

Tim Bradford x Male!reader

So finding out that you had slept with your sister's training officer was pretty awkward to say the least but you really liked Tim and talked to them separately to see if there was any possible way you could continue to see him.

They each had valid concerns and neither wanted anyone to think Tim would give Lucy special treatment just because he was dating her brother but after a couple of weeks the two of them decided you and Tim should give this relationship a real shot.

You didn't necessarily keep it a secret but you weren't so open about it either which wasn't hard for Tim since he already preferred keeping his private life private… well, except for his best friend Angela who still found this whole situation quite amusing, most people at the station didn't even know he was gay.

Lucy on the other hand had a much harder time not spilling your relationship to everyone especially Jackson and Nolan.

“Tim seems in a good mood, maybe he'll take it easy on you today,” Jackson laughs as they collect their war bags for their shift.

“Huh? What? I have no idea what you're talking about I wouldn't know why he's in a good mood,” she rambles, avoiding eye contact as she ejects herself from the conversation and hurrying out the door to the patrol cars.

You rarely brought Tim to the apartment, usually spending time at his house to avoid creating any awkward run ins like the time he used your shower after a day at the paintball range and Lucy came home to him walking around in only a towel.

Tonight however Lucy told you she was going to be gone due to plans to go bar hopping with Jackson, Nolan and some of the other rookies they graduated with from the academy and her crashing at Jackson's apartment afterwards.

You took the opportunity to invite Tim over for a date night in, cooking him dinner and watching a movie however the movie was forgotten about half way through when Tim started kissing your neck.

Now you were on top of him making out on the couch, your phone on the kitchen counter where you couldn't hear your it buzzing with texts from Lucy saying how plans changed and Jackson was crashing with you guys instead.

The movie was too loud for you two to hear the front door opening and Lucy turned the light on to the sight of you in Tim’s lap, both of your shirts gone but luckily you were still dressed from the waist down.

“Oh my god,” she says covering her eyes.

“Hey Tim what are you doing here?” Jackson says pretty tipsy, taking him a minute to put the pieces together yet, “woah wait, are Y/N and Tim dating?”

You quickly hop off Tim and you scramble for your shirts, “you can open your eyes Lucy we’re decent.”

“You really couldn't go to your bedroom to do that?” Lucy questions, her words slurred, “now I have to burn the couch.”

“Don't be so dramatic nothing happened,” you sigh, “come on you are both drunk you should drink some water and go to sleep.”

“I can't wait to tell Nolan that you and Tim are dating Y/N, he didn't believe me when I said Tim was totally gay,” Jackson laughs.

After getting Jackson set up on the couch and Lucy in her bed you stand outside your apartment door with Tim saying goodnight to him.

“Sorry our date was a bust,” you apologize.

“It's alright let's just stick to having dates at my place,” he chuckles, “but uh could you talk to Jackson? I don't care if Nolan knows about us but I don't need him going and blabbing my personal business to the whole station.”

“I'll talk to him in the morning,” you smile, “but you know he's gonna tell Angela about this right.”

“Oh great, something else for her to tease me about,” he laughs, kissing you sweetly, “are you still in for the double date with her and Wesley next weekend?”

“Looking forward to it,” you say, kissing him one more time.

Dating your sister's TO was a lot harder to navigate than you thought it would be but you had fallen hard for Tim so you wouldn't change a thing.

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[who-is-there]

Deciding to write a fantasy high au where the Rat Grinders hide their connection to the overarching plan better than in canon. This is achieved by them actually (basically) stalking the Bad Kids everywhere, so they know more.

Or that was the plan. But it turns out that Kipperlily is really the only one sneaky enough to get away with it, so for the time skip between the beginning of Sophomore year and spring break, the Bad Kids keep accidentally finding the Rat Grinders watching them. It’s weird the first few times, but then the Rat Grinders are sort of- unofficially invited? to hang out with the Bad Kids? Like, they aren’t told when and where, but the Bad Kids usually just invite them into the conversation and talk to them more if they’re found out. Kipperlily encourages this because it means they’ve got more intell.

Except that’s not what happens. They ask Ruben about school, and the way he describes bard classes actually convinces Fig to give them a try. She introduces him to new music, and they start writing songs for each other to look over. When Fig starts her band, she asks Ruben and his band to be her first opener. The two have a decent overlap in audience, but they also pull their own listeners into each others music.

When Fabian asks Mary Ann about her tamagotchi friend, she’s the most excited they’ve seen her. Gorgug asks about it a little, and confines that it’s the small, complex kind of tech he’d never be able to make. The bad kids encourage him, and around winter break he comes in with a- strange looking bird that he says is named Chloe, but that’s not what it responds to. A few weeks after they come back from their spring break, Gorgug gives Mary Ann a construct of her tamagotchi, small enough to fit in her bag, and she cries.

Ivy tries to get Fig on the ‘mean girl’ idea, but Fig shuts it down pretty quickly. She introduces Ivy to Baxter, and Ivy now comes to the Manor solely to pet him. She meets Sandra-Lynn, who sees this girl that is almost her, and asks Jawbone to have a talk with her, just once. Ivy tends to be quieter nowadays, but a little nicer too, and Fig can understand her mom a little more with Ivy next to her.

Adaine and Oisin meet earlier, and the two talk more about their school work. Adaine apologises for not remembering him, and the two are a speed team in their class that semester. The first time Oisin made a comment concerning lower classes, Fabian pulled him aside and they have a talk about family, and what it means to use your class to help others rather than insult them. They both come out of it a little better.

Lucy and Kristin talk some. Kristin still likes hearing about other Gods, and Lucy doesn’t often get to talk about her ancestral religions. She helps Kristin and Tracker, since she doesn’t have anything against other Clerics or their religions. When Kristin gets doubt, she talks it out, and Lucy learns some spine from Kristine assertiveness.

With Riz, the Rat Grinders have been told stories from Kipperlily, so they expect things, but Riz isn’t like that. He isn’t dismissive or impersonal, and while he’s definitely- intense, there isn’t superiority there like they thought. When he talks about his dad or his home life, they don’t see a great backstory like Kipperlily wants, they see a kid at their age, that has to do twice as much for half the reward. They don’t know how to tell her.

But he does relax. With more people helping each other, Riz is a little less stressed. And the Rat Grinders, more than anything, see an adventuring party that are actually friends, that rely on each other and actually hang out together outside campaigns.

And then Spring break happens, and it’s a little better. The Rat Grinders convive Kipperlily to go on another quest, instead of to the mountains. Gorgug is more secure, Fabian’s more aware, Adaine has pushed her spells more, Riz is a little less stressed, Fig’s more focused and Kristin still doubts, but she’s better at taking about it. But it’s still bad. They still go through the forest, still have to deal with fighting and their fears, still get beat up and everything.

And when they come back, the Rat Grinders don’t see them getting praise. They don’t see all the great rewards for saving the world they expected. What they see, is a change to a deadline that was going to happen anyway, and that this group of people that were kind to them have gone through absolute hell. They’re tired, they’re scared, it’s rough. And then a week later, they’re running off again, after an endless night. And when they come back, it’s just more consequences and reprimands from a system that the Rat Grinders have been told favours the Bad Kids. And they realise that maybe Kipperlily doesn’t understand the Bad Kids as well as she thinks.

[themaclean]

We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

“Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

What are your head cannons for characters in different factions within Zenless being friends? (Example: Lucy and Corin being friends because they have the shared experience of not great parents based on what the game reveals).

Ooooooh I hadn’t thought about this til now—

I’m gonna try and include as many characters as possible in this!!

So first off, everyone in the Cunning Hares gets along with everyone in The Sons of Calydon. Considering Billy used to be a former member of the gang, I’d say the two work pretty closely/know each other fairly well. For specifics, I think Anby and Caesar have the same mindset when it comes to combat, and Nekomata and Burnice bond over being chaos gremlins. Nekomata would also love Piper, nap taking gang go Brrrr. I think the only ones who wouldn’t like each other would be Nicole and Lucy, and they tend to just hate each other in secret/behind everyone else’s back’s cause they care about their own groups too much.

Similarly, I think Belobog also has similar ties to Victoria Housekeeping. Lycaon and Corin both like Ben, but for different reasons. Lycaon likes Ben due to thiren solidarity, and Lycaon also thinks he’s a pretty decent guy who’s chill and all that. If Belobog ever needs a commission from Victoria, or vice versa, the transactions are made between those two.

Corin likes him cause of how gentle and understanding he is. She sees a lot of her new father figure Lycaon in him.

As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t really think anyone in Victoria Housekeeping would like the company of the more criminally aligned factions (so far being the Cunning Hares and Sons of Calydon). Sure, Victoria Housekeeping may not have the greatest moral compass, but they do have a reputation to uphold.

The only one I think does make sense is Corin and Nekomata considering their actions in canon. Maaaaaybeee if you squint, I can see Anby and Ellen getting along, too

Seth being the himbo that he is would definitely befriend Rina on accident. Like, she would just be doing the mind manipulation stuff and being super condescending and shit, and he’d be none the wiser and think her insults to be genuine compliments.

And obviously because of that, I think Rina and Jane would also be besties. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss solidarity.

Lycaon and Qingyi I think would also get along at least somewhat well, considering both are very peepaw coded characters. Lycaon also deems it good to have at least one cop friend for emergencies.

Soldier 11 often works with NEPS, but hasn’t been able to form a close bond with anyone outside of Phaethon due to how insanely busy she always is. She’d definitely like Qingyi the most if given the time to actually hang out with the NEPS faction.

Seth, if ever given the chance, would also probably like Anton’s company. The two have similar moral compasses and even more similar himbo mindsets.

Anton would also love Billy for the same reasons. He has to keep their friendship somewhat hidden though, lest Grace finds out Billy exists and tries to cut him open to see how he works.

Piper seems to be the mechanic of the Sons of Calydon group, so I think she’d get along with at least Koleda and Anton from Belobog. Solidarity in working with big machinery and all that y’know?

Soukaku would definitely be friends with Burnice, no explanation needed. Chaos gremlin x chaos gremlin.

Harumasa and Seth probably have a history together the same way Zhu Yuan and Miyabi do.

Until they reveal more about her, I don’t really know what to say about Yanagi, but I think she’d probably get along with people like Lycaon and Qingyi

I ran into Lighter once in Lumina square and he had dialogue about being kinda shy so y’know what, fuck it, anxious mf solidarity between him and Corin. Let the tall scary looking biker guy have social anxiety and let it be the most normal thing ever please Hoyo I beg do not make him like fucking Mika from genshin

I really hope they officially reveal the idol/livestreamer faction, as well as the vampire guy in Lycaon’s story quest soon, cause I’d love to see how their personalities are, and how they’d fit in with the rest of the cast

[cassafra5]

besides the anti-feral drug (which is theorized to be something else), what are your thoughts on how the Fallout tv show Buffed the Ghouls?

Sorry for the delay! I wanted to take a bit of time on this. I’m not sure if the ghouls are necessarily buffed. They seem to be for the most part the same, albeit there’s the dependence on the drug and there seems to be more of a chance of ghouls to decay/breakdown overtime if they can’t get proper care. For example, Roger has a full chunk of his skull showing. Without the drug, overtime, it seems like they start to lose themselves like Roger and Martha who needed to remind themselves of who they are. Pretty heartbreaking not gonna lie :/.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR FO4/FALLOUT ON PRIME

Roger brings up that Cooper has outlasted everyone to which Cooper responds that he’s just always been good with money so there was, at one point, a community and overtime they became feral. Cooper does look healthier than the other ghouls who seem much paler and have their skin pulling away. When we finally see Lucy’s mother in the final episode, she is mostly skeletal and missing an arm and has probably been that way for years. I know a decent bit of damage would have come from the attack on Shady Sands but it’s also been many years as well and there could have been ongoing deterioration despite Moldaver’s best efforts. She could have gone feral soon after and may have been unable to be further treated.

How the ghouls turn feral reminds me of Rachel and Oswald the Outrageous from the Nukaworld DLC. After the Great War, they were turned into ghouls by the radiation and, overtime, some of their friends began to deteriorate and become feral. They describe it as a type of “affliction” and Rachel heads out to find a cure but ultimately concludes that ghouls are doomed to go feral eventually and takes her own life when she, too, begins to deteriorate. Maybe the cure she was looking for would have been something like the drug in the show.

I don’t think we’ve seen as of yet whether radiation cures or promotes healing in ghouls in the show. In regards to Thaddeus, I’m not sure if he is necessarily becoming a ghoul since the serum the snake-oil salesman gave him immediately healed his foot without the use of radiation and he also healed after being shot with an arrow. The salesman mentions that he has “serums that will make you grow an entire new foot.” Once Thaddeus takes the drug, the salesman is in a hurry to leave and even remarks that radiation “isn’t a thing to worry about” anymore. Some people have been saying it could possibly be the healing factor serum and that he now has that mutation, which is a possibility but I’m a bit skeptical of the salesman acting the way he did if that was the case. I actually like Thaddeus so I am a bit worried though with what clues we do have, it may be more likely that he could be turning into a super mutant of some type. FEV can have some regenerative properties depending on the strain and it could be that it’s taking a while to work…but we’re going to have to see what ends up happening in Season 2. I hope he’s okay though :(

[masha-nikita]

The Archetypes of Red Rose, White Rose

I need to balance my brain out due to sudden onset of depression. It is the result. Rommel is probably the only general who, even if you draw him from the back, he's still recognizable- flowers, a camera, and love for beauty. Rommel has a Venus-Mercury conjunct with a direct Neptune influence; he is going to appreciate artistic expressions.

In fact, this colored-doodle with an unintentional Mucha vibe has the energy of his wife Lucy in mind. According to some sources, Rommel wrote home to Lucy daily, as it was reported to be his mental crutch- I imagine it to be transcendental emotional support, not unlike my own experience, my own relationship with our Tumblr community here. Whether you guys interact with me directly or not, you keep me alive. My sincere thanks to you.

Lucy was a formal dancer in Danzig with a decent middle-class background, her father seemed to be a land owner- Lucy being able to do art, probably added to his admiration for her- fellow artists, angelic companionship.

I suppose he did need emotional supports, and a lot of it-- Rommel is the only high commander with whom Kessering "the smiling Albert" did not get along-- which is a feat. After all, Kessering was very renowned for his exceedingly cordial and diplomatic temperament. The same could be said of von Rundstedt, the calm, gentlemanly, old Prussian field marshal. These two could put up with some bad BS from any one else, except Rommel. He was too intense, too mentally off-balance, too difficult to deal with for his colleagues.

There are a few things I noticed from Rommel's biography (including the Trail of the Fox, 2005), that allow me to make some observations. His love for Lucy appears to be non-sexual. They had their only son 12 years after marriage. That is a pretty long time, not customary with a Scorpio man who has a 8th house Mars (who is supposed to have at least above average sex drive).

As a matter of fact, Rommel had a daughter with Walburga Stemmer before his marriage with Lucy was finalized. At that point Rommel’s family felt the need to step in and strong-armed him back with his fiancée-- one reason being to prevent the young lieutenant from the pitfalls of sex and alcohol. In my humble opinion, the subtext here might be Lucy would not lead him astray in that regard, therefore his conservative family would rather have him marrying Lucy.

A side note, Stemmer family still holds a collection of hopelessly romantic letters from Rommel. Did Rommel write comparable letters to Lucy at that point in time? A bit hard to tell.

I could not recall which article comments that Rommel was "hen-pecked' in the household, but Lucy was dominant at home, that part had been very true.

Ouch, I don't know, some aspects of this living environment must've been toxic to Rommel no matter how much some folks wants to romanticize it. It is horrible to be in a friend group where there's a mean girl boss who takes pride in ruling over her husband and turning any girl who crosses her into a persona-non-grata. But I digress. Back to my title.

Nevertheless, for me, Lucy being archetypal White Rose still holds water as a concept.

The Red Rose- White Rose archetypes originated from the same-titled short novel by Zhang Ailing, one of the 20th century's greatest female writers. She depicts love's tragedies as Chin dynasty fell apart and China marched into an era of post-colonialism, world war II, civil wars and partisan conflicts-- and eventually, modernity.

White rose is your ideal wife, the guardian of your family's social standing. She is angelic, she seems docile, she reminds you that you are from a place of honor and integrity, not of seedy backgrounds and carnal desires. White rose kills love by loving you, by being stable, by calming you down whenever you freak out. Very slowly, she castrates you, she brings you home to domesticate you.

The Red Rose symbolizes those dark desires, a black hole that sucks you in to have sex with you, a fragrant bed, a sex dungeon you do not have the will power to claw yourself out of. Red rose loves you by conquering you, destroying you and everything you represent and cherish with triumphant strides. Very quickly Red rose tears you down, burns all your bridges, until you are beyond recognition, until you are flesh, blood, fire and desire, a literal mess.

It is implied in Ailing's novel that men invariably choose the White Rose, because they are human, all too human. Marrying her, he regrets it; not marrying her, he regrets it even more. Such is love's tragedy in the face of humanity, and tragedy is the only inevitability in Ailing's universe. That's why I pull Lucy in as a faint through-line in my Montgomery x Rommel fanfics... not that I am going to write any more, I don't think so.

And yes, Red Rose is synonymous with Bernard Montgomery, in my fandom brain's humble opinion.

I know I am weird.

[skuttlesstrawberry]

So the Official Dropout Preview tells us we’re getting into Kipperlilly’s backstory this week, which means it’s time to go full Pepe Silvia on the Rat Grinders and try to figure out their motivations before all our theories and predictions collapse like a house of cards getting smashed into during a shrimp jump!

So Kipperlilly has anger issues and some sort of fixation with Riz Gukgak. She’s also pretty clearly the leader of the Rat Grinders; I’m betting it was her call to kill Gavin and Buddy Dawn during the Last Stand. I’m also betting that she’s the one who killed Lucy Frostblade in the woods when she died.

Given that last little bit of theory, it’s completely possible that the rest of the Rat Grinders are terrified of her and are going along with things in order to not get murdered themselves for getting in the way of Kipperlilly’s obsession.

On top of that, three of the remaining Rat Grinders have some specific contextual shit going on that may be affecting their judgement:

Oisin is a wizard, and like Adaine needed to come up with a LOT of money to afford wizarding classes this year. Unlike Adaine, he is still in the good graces of the family money, so resources weren’t an issue. The thing is, though? The source of that scratch is a dragon’s hoard, and Brennan recently offhandedly confirmed (via Fabian’s tattoo) that dragon madness was still a thing in Spyre. As such, since Oisin is explicitly using a dragon’s hoard as a resource this season, it’s entirely possible that he’s suffering from dragon madness this season and isn’t in complete control of his faculties. He might legitimately be a decent Dragonborn who’s friendly and into Adaine while simultaneously not being able to connect the dots about how his other actions are hurting her and her friends.

Mary Anne Skuttle is admittedly my blorbo this season, so I know I’m biased. That being said, she don’t give a shit and she’s somewhere on the spectrum like a lot of us, so it’s not unreasonable that she simply hasn’t noticed yet that Kipperlilly’s plans are sinister as fuck.

Finally, Reuben has some sort of messed up dynamic going on with Jace Stardiamond, to the point that his own (quite sketchy uncle) has raised concerns. Could there be some manipulation going on that’s pushing him in this direction?

Ivy Embra, on the other hand, does not have any obvious reason for fucking around with Fabian’s heart and his party. Her I find to be really suspicious, and I would not be surprised to find out she’s actually been pulling strings this whole time.

So! I look forward to finding out how entertainingly wrong I am on these points this week; I do hope I’ve called at least one thing right in my analysis here!

[potatocitytechnology]

The Black Cat - N.YT

Kinktober Day 3

Shibari: Shibari, which translates to "decorative tying," is a form of rope bondage that originated in Japan and dates back to the seventeenth-century Edo period. Shibari involves rope made from jute or hemp and is considered an aesthetically pleasing form of BDSM.

INTRO: For the first time in your life you found something that made you feel alive and beautiful. Then you and your boyfriend broke up. Little did you know meeting Yuta would be the best thing for you and your obsession.

GENRES: Smut

PAIRING: reader (afab) x softdom!yuta

WARNINGS: profanity/swearing, rope bondage/shibari, extensive use of ropes, temperature play, blindfolding, gagging, use of a vibrating toy, a little humiliation and degradation, oral (F), crying (F), slight suspension, mentions of full suspension, reader has a rope kink?, softdom!yuta, bdsm themes - overall explicit content - PLEASE, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG OR POST IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

WORD COUNT: 5.7k (shit.)

AUTHORS NOTE: Wow, this was not meant to be nearly 6k long... especially since i'm trying to keep all kintober works under 2k (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶) I ended up doing a decent amount of research into shibari and just couldn't keep it short (it needed a backstory!). i really wanting to write for it but i had absolutely no confidence in my ability to describe something so intricate and complicated. However, this is my interpretation of this kink with some other bdsm kinks thrown in to make it interesting. Anyways, enough of my rambling, enjoy! 𖦹 ̫ 𖦹

You met Yuta through a friend of a friend. To be honest you don’t know much about him, even after meeting up with him a few times to discuss your mutual… interests. You met up at normal places, coffee shops mostly, but this time was different. This time you were gonna do what you’d been planning all this time. 

The reason you heard of Yuta was because you were talking to your friend about why you keep going back to your ex. One of the main reasons was the sex. And trust, it wasn’t just sex. Your ex, Ethan, was into shibari. Something you never even knew about before you met him, but it quickly became your favourite obsession. 

There’s just something about the feeling you get when you're tied up, all pretty and captive. The dopamine that courses through your veins is pure addiction and the stress leaves your body immediately. Ethan made you depend on him even after you’re broken up, it being second nature to call him up when you needed your fix. You hate how much you need it. 

Yuta became relevant when your friend said she knew an old friend from Uni who was into shibari, too. She offered to get in contact with her again and ask if you and she could meet up. You were eager to say the least, not having met anyone else with the same kink aside from Ethan and you would do anything to not have to go to him anymore. 

Luckily, her friend agreed and that’s when you met up with her. Lucy is a very funny and warm hearted person. She was incredibly happy to help you learn more about rope bondage and introduce you to more people through parties and clubs. 

On one of those nights was when you first saw Yuta. However, you could say he saw you first judging by the way he stared at you for a good hour before you locked eyes with him from across the room. It was an instant attraction, your breath catching in your throat as you looked him up and down. 

He then walked over to where you and Lucy were talking with some of your new friends, an extra drink appearing in his left hand. His dark hair covered his forehead, dipping just past his brow bone. Eyes twinkling, lips full and plump as they turn into a smile. 

When he reaches you and your friends, his gaze linger on you as he introduces himself to everyone, leaving you for last. “Hi, I’m Yuta.” it’s simple the way he says it, but you can’t help but feel there’s something lying beneath it. You pay it no mind, however, introducing yourself to him. People around you start mumbling, even those caught up in… introductions, stop their activities to peer at your group. 

You can’t help but to feel shy, their unwanted attention making your eyes cast down as you try to become as unnoticeable as possible. Yuta leans in closer to you, “Don’t mind them.” And that’s when you knew he was the one you wanted to do it with. There was something about him that made you feel like he was safe and knew what he was doing. 

On the cab back to Lucy’s place she turns to you as soon as the doors shut. “Oh my god, y/n, you don’t know how big that just was.” her tone is one of disbelief and excitement but you’re absolutely confused. “What do you mean?” 

She grabs your wrist, “Yuta Nakamoto, the one who had his eyes glued to you?” you nod your head, unsure why she’s asking you a question about a guy you met two hours ago. How're you supposed to know who he is? Her eyes widened, “shit, I never told you about Yuta.” she sits back in thought and you begin to panic. Well that was ominous, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? Sure doesn’t sound good. 

She angles her face back, ready to explain while your mind reels thinking you’ve met someone who’s way past your level of expertise. “Yuta doesn’t take interest in a lot of people.” is all she says before pausing again. A frustrated look passes your face, “Lucy, what the hell is with this guy?” She nods her head. 

“Don’t worry, he can’t be bad for you.” She concludes and you give her a very unimpressed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifts her shoulders, as if in some sort of defeat. “Well, I’ll put it like this,” her eyes pierce yours with a slight look of worry passing through them. “Who better to teach you the art of Japanese rope bondage than Yuta Nakamoto?” 

After that you were cautious, how could you not be? But when Yuta, somehow, got ahold of your number and invited you out for coffee, you didn’t have it in you to say no. From there you learnt what his intentions were with you. He wanted you to be his next ‘muse’. Yuta said he only picks a select few people to teach and participate in his activities, and he wanted you. 

You were hesitant, but your need to be tied surpassed your fear of the unknown. When you were discussing your inexperience with Yuta and his with you, it came up. The fact that you would do almost anything to feel the weight of rope on your skin. Yuta’s reaction was a slow nod, but you saw the look that passed through his irises. It was lust, laced with approval and it made you feel proud. 

After these few meetups, you began to be much more confident around Yuta, unafraid to say the things you wanted and him the same with you. On your last meetup, Yuta asked the question you knew was coming; “Do you want to actually do it next time?” You gulp, a lump forming in your throat. “Of course.” You nod, your eyes reassuring him that you want to do this. Besides, you refused to see Ethan for over three weeks while you’ve been talking to Yuta, and you need this. He smiles, his approval making you happy. 

That brings you to the present moment. You stand outside the address Yuta gave you to meet at. It seems like some sort of club, you think as you observe the outside of the building. Big, bold letters read on the front, ‘The Black Cat”. Spooky, you think to yourself before double checking the address, pulling your coat closer to your shivering body. 

Confirming it is the place, you tame your wildly beating heart by taking in deep breaths as you walk up to the entrance. Your stilettos click on the pavement as you do, and you can’t help but feel overdressed and underdressed at the same time. Not to mention cold, the chilly Autumn air biting at your skin. 

You hear the thumping of slow and sensual RnB resonating from within the building as you get closer, eventually only a foot from the door. Thoughts of regret rush through your mind. What the hell are you doing here? This isn’t you.

Before you get the chance to turn and hurry back to your car, a throuple pushes through the doors, startling you, as they giggle and laugh. The two girls sloppily lie kisses on the guys neck and face as they disappear into the night and you’re envious. They look like they’re having pure, carefree fun. You want that too, and right now your key to that life is waiting for you inside this building. 

Holding your breath, you push through the doors into the warm and sensual atmosphere of the club. Your eyes are greeted with dark furniture and bodies moving together as everyone minds their own business with the people they’re with. You try not to show your shock, as you walk past couches and tables where people are kissing and groping, making your way to the bar at the far end of the room. 

You grasp the surface of the bar with both hands as you roll into it. The air feels heavy in your lungs as the bartender comes over to you. “Need anything, love?” He asks, a heavy English accent lacing his voice. You go to shake your head before someone calls from behind you, “A cosmopolitan for the lady, thanks.” 

You turn around, hoping to see Yuta but instead it’s some other guy. His shirt is off, which isn’t surprising, though it’s not the way you’d introduce yourself to someone. He takes a seat beside you as you prop yourself onto the bar stool. “What’re you doing here, pretty?” He asks, a slur in his voice indicating he’s had a lot to drink. 

“Waiting for someone.” you reply, a coldness lingering in your tone. He either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care because he keeps talking. “You sure? Don’t see anyone running to claim you.” His voice is suggestive and you start to feel slimy while he eyes you up. You only hum in response, hoping he gets the hint to fuck off. 

“Pretty things that don’t get claimed around here, are taken by others.” He says, obviously thinking that you’ll jump into his arms if Yuta doesn’t show up. Luckily, you don’t have to reply as the bartender steps in, “Piss off, Tyler. She’s with Yuta.” his tone is low, like a warning and you begin to wonder just how much power Yuta has within these communities. 

“Like I give a fuck if she’s Yuta’s or not.” He laughs, swinging an arm around your shoulder and you grimace, the smell of sweat and alcohol radiating from him. “You should be.” The bartender replies, who’s name tag reads, Jordan.

The guy harassing you, Tyler laughs louder and more obnoxiously. “And where is big bad Yuta, right now, huh?” You scowl, as he shakes around you. You honestly feel like you could punch him at any second. 

Thankfully, you won’t have to, as an angry sounding voice emits from behind you and Tyler. “Get your hands off of her, Tyler, or I swear to god you’ll loose them.” It sends shivers up your spine and you smirk as it clearly scares the absolute shit out of Tyler. His arm quickly leaves your shoulders as he whips around, his arms in the air in mock surrender. 

“H-Hey man, I was just kidding. No hard feelings.” he stutters, every ounce of his confidence leaving his body as Yuta watches him with stalking eyes. “If you touch her again-” he begins to threaten, but catches the look of fear and uncertainty flash through your eyes and stops himself. He takes a deep breath, “You are never to be anywhere near her again, do you understand?” 

Tyler nods and disappears as fast as he appeared. Yuta gives an appreciative nod to Jordan, the bartender, before grabbing your hand. Tingles shoot up your fingertips as he gently tugs you behind him. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.” you nod in response, trailing after him as he leads you down a long, dark hallway beside the bar. 

You pass doors, each of which have names on them, like offices. Except you know they’re probably not offices. At least not in the traditional sense. He stops close to the end of the hallway when he pulls out a key. You’ve stopped in front of the door labelled, Yuta.N. He gestures with a smile for you to go in first as he cracks open the door. 

You walk in, one hesitant step after the other as he follows you quietly. You’re taking aback when your eyes adjust to the dark atmosphere of the room. The only light being some LED’s scattered around. A four poster bed acts as the centrepiece of the room, and god does it attract your eyes. What catches your attention the most are the hardpoints attached to the posts all around and above the bed, not to mention other odd ones in different corners of the room. 

“They’re for suspension.” Yuta says softly from behind you, patiently letting you take in everything you need to. You nod in reply, casting your eyes to the ones above the couch and the bed to the few that’re just in the middle of the room. It’s daunting you can’t lie. 

There’s a dark chest that is situated near the couch and you can only imagine what’s inside it. This is some fucking fifty shades of grey shit, you think to yourself, a laugh of disbelief almost leaving your mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks, his voice still timid. Truth be told, Yuta's nervous about how you’ll react to everything. He knows you’ve never really delved into more accurate BDSM, and he wants nothing more than for you to want this. He’s been itching to get you into this room, all of his favourite things are in here and now you are too. 

“Yeah. It’s just a lot.” You mutter and Yuta nods even though you can’t see him. You turn around and he takes a moment to watch your expressions. “Just remember we’re not doing that tonight,” he lifts a hand to rub a thumb over your cheek and you sigh. “unless you want to.” he adds. “Okay.” you agree.

“Alright then, why don’t we get to the part you’ve been craving then?” He questions, and you nod your head. “y/n I really want you to speak up and talk to me okay?” he asks and your eyes widen. “That might’ve been how you did it with your ex, but for this to work for us, we need to communicate.” 

He’s right, with Ethan communication wasn’t really a thought. Verbal conversation didn’t matter as long as he got what he wanted, and you obviously never picked up that that’s not how this is supposed to work. It’s refreshing to be doing this with someone who knows what he's doing and wants to make sure you’re okay with it every step of the way. 

Though, it does little to calm you on the fact that Yuta is much more experienced than you. The only person that you ever participated in rope bondage with was Ethan, and you never paired it with suspension. Despite the nerves you have to admit that the thought makes your pussy clench embarrassingly. 

“Yes, Yuta. I want you to tie me up.” you try to say with confidence, your eyes holding contact with him. He smiles, relief flooding you. “Perfect. Let’s begin then.” He clasps his hands together, guiding you by your elbow to the centre of the room. 

You’ve talked about how he would tie you up for the first time, but he still talks you through it as he begins by pulling a few bunches of hemp rope from the dark chest. He unravels the first bunch, laying it in his palms before gesturing to you. “Take off your clothes, y/n. Did you wear what I told you to?” Your breath hitches, as it actually dawns on you. You’re doing this, and by the look on Yuta’s face, you’re gonna love it. 

“Yes, I did.” you reply, surely removing your woollen trench coat. The material falls to the ground, you only being left in the black bondage harness and heels he sent to you. It seems that now you’re without the coat, you’re feeling hot but when it was the only thing covering you, you were cold. It’s strange how your body reacts to him, a practical stranger. 

“Good girl.” he purrs, looking you up and down. You shudder at the compliment, satisfied to have pleased him. He steps close to you, picking up the coat and gesturing for you to take of the heels. You do and he walkd to the corner of the room before placing them on the coat and shoe rack. Your eyes track him as he does and when he comes back to stand in front of you, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Yet, it feels forbidden.

His breath falls on your lips as yours is held in your throat, not wanting to ruin the moment by breathing. “On your knees, now.” is all he says and you’re falling to the ground before the sentence is finished. When your knees meet the hardwood your eyes peer up at him through your lashes. He pulls the rope through his fist, your attention shifting to his hands. They’re large and veiny, and you want them on you but you sit quietly and wait for his request, eager to please. 

“We’re gonna start today with something simple and pretty.” he starts fighting the urge to coo at the way you look up at him. “Shibari is a form of decorative tying as you probably know, but it’s also used for pleasure. That’s what we’ll be doing too.” he explains and your head becomes light with the thought of the ropes wrapped around you, all pretty and confined. 

Now, my little rope bunny,” he says, a tinge of admiration following the pet name. “I’m going to first start by doing ‘shinju’, which is a traditional breast bondage technique.” he adds nonchalantly, and it sends more wetness to your pussy, a throbbing ache already burying itself deep in your abdomen and he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

You nod, a weak ‘uh huh’ leaving your lips. He grins, kneeling down to your level where he starts to gently glide the rope across your skin. An involuntary groan escapes you and Yuta freezes. “Jesus, never had anyone react that quick.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. You nod, deciding whether or not to just say what you want to, in the end you bite the bullet, wanting to see how he reacts. “Was wet before it even touched me.” You let out breathily. 

Your eyes close in bliss as he continues, making the first knot. You hear a curse slip from his lips and you internally smile in glee, glad you’re having an impact on him like he does on you. True to the name ‘shinju’ the rope goes around your waist, under your breasts before wrapping around your shoulder and beneath your armpit. Circling around your neck creating a halter. It then goes between your breasts before looping under the rope beneath them. Yuta takes his time with the rope, truly enjoying the art he’s making. Finally, the end of the rope is wrapped the whole way around both of your breasts, forcing them to bulge outwards. 

Your nipples perk towards him, his fingertips brushing them making you moan again. God, the feeling of the rope tight on your skin is alike to nothing else. The way you sense you’re constricted is blissful. Yuta watches the way you react like a hawk. No one he’s ever done this with has reacted like you do and it's fascinating.

Goosebumps follow every part of your skin he touches, the rope making you gasp and breathe heavier every time he places it across a bare area. When he ties each knot with careful precision, you can’t help the way you feel like a piece of art. 

When he finishes the ‘shinju’, he sits back on his heels, admiring his work. A smile graces his gorgeous face and you can’t help the way your face mirrors his. “How does that feel?” he asks, tugging at the knots to make sure they are all firm but not too constricting. 

“Feels good.” You reply, surprising you both as your voice is cracked and strained like you’re already wrecked. He nods, keeping an eye on you. “Do you want to try ‘koutou ushiro te shibari’? It’s just a hands behind the head tie.” You know you’ve hardly gone deep into what Yuta knows, really only skimming the easiest methods from his knowledge. It’s just the way he sounds so confident about these different ties. Ethan was never like that, always unsure of himself and constantly hurting you. 

You nod, a small noise of agreement leaving you. He strokes your cheek adoringly and you shift slightly on your knees, the rope around your breasts tightening eliciting a moan from between your lips. Yuta chuckles, “you really are enjoying this aren’t you, bunny?” The pet name causes you to only moan in response. 

He stands and walks behind you. “Hands above your head.” He instructs and you obey. He never has to ask twice with you and he loves it. Grabbing your wrists he wraps a new piece of rope around your left one a few times before pulling it tight and doing the same with the other wrist, effectively binding them together. 

You grunt as he pulls them firmly before looping around the connective piece of rope between your wrists. He then brings the ends down your spine till it reaches your waist. Wrapping his arms around you he curls it around your waist, making a pretty knot at the back that sits in the curve of your spine. 

“There.” he sighs, admiring the way your arms are now restricted, folded towards your neck. You whimper, the soft rope tight around your waist making you wiggle against the delicious pressure. “Ok bunny, how would you feel about being attached to that hardpoint there.” He points to the metal ring hanging above you and you nod, a sound of compliance coming from your chest. 

“Alright, stand up then.” He says watching to make sure you’re okay. Your knees wobble, weak from being on your knees for so long but you manage to stand in a stable position. Shibari is beautiful but all beautiful things take time. Yuta probably spent over 30 minutes tying these knots on you, each pretty piece of rope accentuating your body features. 

Yuta turns around, going back to the dark chest and pulling out a longer piece of rope. Reaching above you, he loops the rope through the ring. Pulling it down tight, he walks behind you and ties it to your arm tie. He laces it into the knots, focusing on making it museum worthy. 

This is part of the reason you love rope bondage. The attention to detail and goal of perfection makes you feel like a art piece to be worshipped, like the Mona Lisa. It’s also very intimate, the time you spend together, both parties enjoying their role. The last aspect you love is the build up to the intimate part. Sometimes it takes hours to tie someone how they want and it’s all so exhilarating. 

You gasp as Yuta pulls the rope tight, not quite suspending you but your feet are only just still on the ground. You whine in disappointment, wanting to be fully suspended. Yuta laughs, “there’s gonna be other times, bunny. We can work up to it.” he says, dragging a finger around your waist as he walks to your front. 

His fingers catch the rope around your waist, pulling you toward him, effectively lifting your toes from the ground. Your weight pulls down on your arms’ muscles, the burn delicious but not enough to sustain for more than a few seconds.  “See.” he whispers into your ear, sending a chill through your body. Yuta’s right, you need to get stronger to be able to hold your own weight comfortably.

“I’m not going to tie your legs today either, I don’t think you could handle it to be honest.” he smirks as your face twists. He turns to go somewhere behind you, not being able to see him you whine out loud. “Be patient, bunny.” he scoffs as you hear what you presume to be a fridge door open and shut. He rummages around with a few different things where you can’t see him before he comes into your vision again. 

On a small tray he has an assortment of objects. A dark blindfold sits neatly next to a ball gag and a small bowl of ice cubes. The last object on the tray is something you’ve never seen before, it's not large and sorta egg shaped. Seeing your confusion at the object, Yuta picks it up, showing you closer. “It’s a vibrating egg, this goes into your sweet little pussy.” 

You suck in a breath, an innocent ‘oh’ leaving your parted lips and it takes everything in him to not kiss you. That’s what the gag is for. He gets close to you, the ball gag in hand before he brings it to your lips. “Open.” he demands and of course, you comply. He places the ball part in your mouth, tying it behind your head. It’s a comfortable size, you note, especially since you have a rather small mouth. 

Next he picks up the blind fold, navigating around your body so he’e behind you again. Bringing it over your eyes, you groan into the gag. He makes sure you can’t see before securing it and you must admit you’ve never been gagged and blinded before. Ethan usually wanted you mouth free and eyes open so you could suck him off. You can tell with Yuta though, that this is more about pleasuring you for him. 

Without your sight, everything immediately becomes more sensual. The only thing you can really count on is the hearing, due to your loss of touch as well. You listen closely as he shuffles around you, when suddenly he’s pressed against your back. You can feel all of him on you like this and you can’t help the noise that emits from you, muffled around the gag. 

His fingertips dance around your waist, moving to the front of your body before he reaches between your closed legs. “Part them.” he mutters deeply into your ear and you groan, complying instantly. Brushing over your pubic bone you begin to pant around the gag. The increase in the rise and fall of your chest causes the ropes around your breasts to tighten and loosen periodically. 

He finally tickles your clit with his fingers, only ghosting over it in a teasing manner. You shiver in his hold, body vibrating and he makes a noise of approval. “Such a good little bunny. So responsive.” he murmurs in your ear, flicking your clit harshly. Almost painfully, but you couldn’t give a fuck, a strangled moan slipping around the gag. Your hips buck, looking for his fingers and the fact you can’t see them, makes you drip. 

“Okay, no more teasing. Just know I’m being extra nice since it’s your first time.” He confirms in your ear. Oh, you know he would tease you for hours and not get sick of it. But you’re happy he’s serving it to you on a silver platter this time. You moan out in response, it being the only noise that gets past the gag in your mouth as drool begins to dribble from the corners of your lips. 

He runs his fingers through your folds, another moan leaving from deep within your chest. “So wet.” He muses to himself and you begin to blush. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed, bunny.” He’s coos into your ear. “It’s so sexy that I barely have to touch you and you’re ready to go for me.” You’re always ready, is what you want to say, but the gag would make that near impossible. 

His fingers dip into your soaking pussy, beginning to slowly pump in and out of you. You can’t help the string of muffled curses that you grumble out, nearly choking on your saliva as you do. “Careful, bunny. As much as I’d love to see you choke, it won’t be on your own accord.” Your eyes roll back at his words, your pussy squeezing around his fingers as he chuckles at the reaction he gets from you. 

Suddenly he slips something inside of you and you’re guessing it’s the egg toy. It feels foreign. Smooth and round, snug deep in your pussy. His fingers leave you and you whine, the noise pitiful as he pats your hair soothingly. You hear the sound of sucking and your heart rate increases. “Mhm, you taste good, little bunny.” he moans into your ear as he licks his fingers and you wish more than anything right now, that you could see him. 

You wiggle against your ropes, groaning as they tighten on your skin. You hear him laugh at you as you embarrass yourself. It only turns you on more. “Right. Are you ready to see just exactly what this little toy can do?” He asks. You nod in response, thinking he wouldn’t expect you to answer verbally. You were wrong. 

He slaps your thigh. Not as hard as you’d like, but hard enough to hurt a little. It makes your back arch against the ropes as you throw your head back, a deep, primal sound emitting from deep within your chest. “Answer me.” he demands and you try your best to be good and answer. A barely understandable ‘yes’ is filtered from your mouth, drool now running down your chin like a stream. 

He doesn’t even think before he leans in close to you, using his tongue to lick up the mess you’ve made of yourself. You let out a high pitched moan as your mind races. He’s so fucking dirty and you love it. He gets to the corner of your lips, where he flicks his tongue into your mouth briefly, before pulling away. A noise of disagreement leaves you and he looks on, amused and intrigued by you. 

He grips the little remote in his hand, pressing the on button. You immediately react. Your body jolts as the little toy vibrates to life and so it starts. You officially can’t keep the noises in and Yuta only encourages you with his sweet and filthy words. 

The feeling of the toy vibrating deep in your pussy is ecstacy. With both your sight and will to string together a sentence evaporated, you are left to only focus on your impending orgasm. Wanting to participate Yuta picks up an almost melted ice cube, running it across your already hardened nipple. 

The sting of the cold makes you hiss, the feeling a painful pleasure. He creates a process of making your abused nipple freeze, before defrosting it in his mouth then switching to the other. The sensations make your head loll to the side and Yuta notes that next time he should tie you so that your neck gets more support. 

Your toes still on the ground begin to tingle as you feel an orgasm rise in you. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and Yuta notices. Nipping and pinching at your sensitive nipples brings you to the edge quicker. A final bite to your chest pushing you into your orgasm. 

However, Yuta doesn’t turn the toy off. You try to argue your disagreement around the gag as a couple moments pass. When he still makes no move to turn the little buzzing toy off, you wiggle in your restraints. “Shush, bunny. It’s alright, do you trust me.” He mumbles against your chest. Luckily a nod is enough to satisfy him this time as he replies, “Good girl.”

Quickly you’re brought to another orgasm, but before you can cum, Yuta is on his knees sucking your clit between his lips. When the cold touches your sensitive nerves you all but scream into the gag, thrashing as he loops his arms around your thighs to stop you from moving. Definitely tying your legs next time, he thinks to himself. 

You cum hard, but he still doesn’t stop. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you sob into the gag. “Aww, is my little bunny ready to throw in the towel already?” He asks, a degrading tone in his voice. You shake your head, a muffled ‘no’ crying from your sobbing mouth. 

“Just one more for me, bunny. I promise.” You nod your head, only wanting to please him so bad. Even though he makes every nerve in your body burn, he’s a flame you’d gladly walk into every time. “Good girl.”, he praises stroking your thigh adoringly. You’re absolutely perfect for him. 

He pops an ice cube in his mouth, ghosting over your poor, swollen clit once again as you sob harder, feeling his breath on you. He attaches his lips around it, a broken moan turning into a weak scream as he places the ice cube directly on your clit. With the egg still vibrating inside you, his lips sucking your clit and the damned ice cube making it throb, you stand absolutely no chance. 

You cry out loud as you cum again. At this point a mix of your tears and drool stream down your face and neck, while cum dribbles down your thighs. Yuta wastes none of it, sucking your sticky thighs clean of the substance, caressing your skin as he does. 

After a few moments he’s quick to stand up. You hear him behind you before he loosens the rope holding you up, the slack causing your knees to collapse as you try to hold your own weight again. He catches you, arm securely wrapped around your waist as he guides you to the bed where he swiftly removes all the rope from your body.

When he removes your blindfold and gag, you begin to hiccup as your eyes adjust to the dim room before landing on him. He’s looking at you proudly with a hint of worry showing on his features. “You okay, y/n?” he asks softly. You nod, a quiet ‘yeah’ forming as your jaw adjusts to being closed again. 

Every muscle in your body burns, and this is the last part of rope bondage you love. The way you can always feel it long after you’re finished. He grabs a damp towel and begins to gently wipe the sweat, cum and drool from your body before you collapse into him. He hugs you close to him and you feel completely safe and satisfied. 

“That was amazing.” you sigh into him, and you swear you almost feel him deflate around you. “That’s good, I’m glad you did.” He mumbles into the top of your head. 

“Next time we should stretch first though.” you grumble and he laughs, his whole body vibrating and you can’t help but laugh lightly too. 

“Okay.” he replies, obeying you for the first time tonight.

[rimunagenius]

Best Friends Don’t Kiss

❦ Pairing: Naomi Mcpherson x reader

❦ Word Count: 3.1k words

❦ Warnings: Fluff, a lot of kissin ;) , confessions

❦ a/n: so i’m pretty sure i can speak for everyone when i say that the julien and jo, lucy and katie, kisses, in one concert…broke the internet and the whole munagenius fandom. so obv had to incorporate that into this fic…that’s it. Just those earth shattering kisses and Naomi and Reader breaking the fucking internet.

This was lowk ass i’m ngl LMFAO

Having multiple features on Muna's album, Muna, and as their bestfriend since college, you make a decent amount of guest appearances on their tours. You don't have a music career yourself, and your not even on the featured title, opting to not out yourself out there under the guise of releasing your own music. You stuck to being the bands photographer and part time tour manager when you could, but continuing having your job as a tattoo artist.

But your favorite featured song to perform had to be 'Solid'. You and Naomi may have caused scandals during the performance of that song at any show you have attended. Maybe not scandals but on stage personas. It was speculated among Muna’s fans, and your own friends, that you two had been dating. Ever since college, you and Naomi were not beating the allegations.

Muna’s whole thing was similar to boygenius. Your favorite band besides Muna of course, of course duh, kissing eachother whenever the moment felt right. But the kissing wasn't how you and Naomi happened to attract attention to yourselves.

Recently, for the last 6 shows you accompanied Muna on, either Naomi was caught looking to you when they sang background for the chorus or you were caught being more provocative towards Naomi. That could have easily been misconstrued as you two being inlove and in a secret relationship. But if it wasn't Naomi creating an uproar, it had been you.

The fans have caught onto Naomi but you quickly counteracted by slowly sauntering over to them or Jo, mostly Naomi, and grabbing their face while singing the same lines in the chorus. All too much passion for two bestfriends. Atleast that’s what the fans thought.

Needless to say, your onstage personas were definitely two queers in love with one another. The fans ate that shit up.

Tonight, Muna was opening for boygenius. The concert was moving along perfectly. The energy was alive, and the crowd was jumping. You honestly loved watching your best friends have everything they have ever wanted out of their passion for music. Naomi especially.

You had met Naomi before they met Katie and Josette. Photography being the reason you went to school with them, music or Naomi, being the reason you changed your major halfway through your sophomore year of college. Never having the intention of pursuing it, but full intentions of helping your closest friends get to where they wanted.

Naomi was a special person in your life. Watching them grow and the ambition to pursue the dream they have wanted from a young age was something so surreal and exciting. Which brings you back to tonight. Watching them play alongside y’all’s lifelong friends.

Side stage, a few feet away from Naomi, they smiled at you, signaling your entrance, to sing one of the featured songs you are apart of. Solid.

Moving about the stage, dancing with Josette, big smiles on your faces while Katie took the first half of the song. Singing supporting vocals for Katie, you eventually found your similar path that led you to Naomi. She’s so solid. You sang as you moved your hips to the rythm.

Reaching Naomi, you looked to the crowd, seeing eyes on you, you grabbed Naomi’s face, My baby’s so solid, you sang. The crowd screaming.

As you sang the words into the mic, Naomi looked at you, singing the words right back to you. She’s so solid, My baby’s so solid. They sang. You smiled at them, your noses brushing close together, gauging the reaction from the crowd before kissing their cheek and moving to Katie.

You sang your half of the song, soon turning it into a duet with your bestfriend Katie. Josette occasionally jamming out with you two. The rest of the set was short, Muna ending it with Silk Chiffon. You occasionally in awe of Josette as she played guitar on her knees infront of you and Katie. Performing was so fun when you were with them.

You and the band eventually went back and side stage decompressing while the headliner band, your dearest friends, boygenius, set up for their show.

“You think Y/n and Naomi broke the internet yet?” Josette asked, wiggling her eyebrows at both of you.

“If that didn’t break the internet, this for sure will.” Katie said as she put her phone up, taking a picture of you and Naomi. You again, grabbed Naomi’s cheeks with one hand, softly pinching their cheeks, kissing the corner of their lips. A little too close for best friends.

“Oh, wow. Okay, Katie. Let’s not.” Naomi said as they waved one hand in the air to her, their other hand holding your waist, as you had been seated in their lap.

“I really thought you guys were hard launching whatever this was out there, not gonna lie.” Katie said, pointing towards you both, looking to Josette for agreement.

“No seriously. Thought Y/n was going to start fucking you, Naomi. Was about to have Frankie get you guys a room.” Jo laughed as she looked to Kelli.

“Haha, very funny Josette Maskin.” You laughed before turning to Naomi. “What exactly did she think we were hard launching?” You asked.

“I don’t know but that just means we have undeniable and palpable chemistry, baby. We got the whole world thinking we’re in love.” They laughed, kissed your cheek, and continued talking to Katie.

You weren’t going to lie and say that you weren’t inlove with your best friend. It was pretty fucking obvious to anyone in the room. You and Naomi just always shut it down. You didn’t know if it was because they didn’t reciprocate the feelings or if it was so they didn’t discover a truth neither one of you were ready to admit.

Either way, you’d continue to make the harmless jokes and suggestions, until one day they reciprocate it. Or better yet, admit they love you just like you love them.

Soon, a stagehand found you guys backstage, Julien apparently wanting all of you on the stage to perform with them. You had all been a close knit circle considering all of your age differences. You all just bonded over the same passion for music and doing what you love infront of thousands of people.

The set for ‘Salt in the Wound’ just started, Naomi on piano/keyboard, Josette playing background guitar with Julien, Katie, you, Pheobe, and Lucy all singing.

It got to the chorus and all of you were singing, the crowd matching the volume and energy. Suddenly something had been in the air. Everyone had been loving on eachother. Lucy the first one to make rounds with everyone.

You and Pheobe started hugging Julien and Josette. You letting go with a kiss to both their cheeks, Pheobe pushing them together. They shared a kiss on the lips, the crowd losing their minds. You and Pheobe looked at eachother, you grabbed her hips and pulled her in. Your hand now holding her head against your lips as you two kissed eachother passionately.

Pulling apart, Lucy and Katie were rolling on the ground full on making out. Eventually Lucy had pulled away, Katie scrambling from under Lucy to then snatch you into a kiss and a meaningful hug. Lucy had made her way from Naomi, over to you, kissing your cheek. You looked at her face, her red lipstick smudged, hair tousled.

She then winked at you, as you made eye contact with Naomi, your smile already taking over your lips. You were originally going in for a small kiss on the cheek, knowing how Naomi doesn’t really feel comfortable with the lip kissing since everyone is kissing everyone. Germs and stuff.

What you hadn’t known was that Naomi had dodged any pass that anyone had made on them. But as you were about to stand on your tippy toes, tilting your head to reach their cheek, they grabbed the bottom of your jaw, pulling your lips onto theirs.

The impact immediately set fire to your skin. Warm fuzzy feelings alive and around your stomach as you both kissed eachother. Your hands landing on their hips, their hands on either side of your face, holding you to their lips. The contact not breaking until either one of you run out of breath.

The crowd was losing their minds, your kiss projected on the big screen behind the band. There’s no way no one was missing this, and there was absolutely no way you guys were beating the couple allegations now.

You smiled as you both pulled away. The crowd losing their shit. They had suspected it for a while now, just seeing the passion and affection conveyed through the kiss live and well, was a change for them. A significant change for you.

Before you started to walk away, Naomi had grabbed your hips, yet again pulling you into another kiss. Your lips moving in sync. Your tongues meeting each others. Your hands on their cheeks. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you pulled apart.

This concert had to be your favorite of this whole tour. Hands down. Once Muna and boygenius closed the concert, you all had met backstage.

You were all standing in a circle, talking and laughing about what you all had just done and making plans for later after everyone was done. The usual debrief, of course. “Okay, lets talk about Naomi and Y/n. What the actual fuck was that?” Pheobe asked, giggling.

“Yeah, that wasn’t very ‘we’re just friends’ of you.” Lucy looked at you. Her knowing glance towards everyone else and then to you two. The constant deferring you used to do whenever she brought up you and Naomi. Julien laughed as she hid her face in Lucy’s arm as she continued to belly laugh.

“Yeah, explain.” Katie looked quizzically at you both. Her eyes jumping to both of you every second. Josette standing with her arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

“Hey man, I thought we were all just kissing. So I kissed Y/n.” Naomi shrugged their shoulders. Their arm slinging around your shoulders.

“Yeah, totally.” You nodded your head in agreement. “Can’t friends kiss?” You smiled as you looked at your friends knowing they have all kissed eachother. Including the ones who have significant others. You guys do it all the time on stage. Nothing was different about this kiss, right?

“Best friends don’t kiss like that.” Jo pointed between the two of you.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It was just for the show.” You shrugged her comment off. Really hoping this wasn’t because you two were ‘just friends.’

“Was it just for the show?” Naomi found themself standing infront of the foot of your bed in the hotel room you both wanted to share. You were performing here again tomorrow.

“Was what for the show?” You asked. Putting your phone down, the lock screen of you and Naomi posing in the mirror of your bathroom back home.

“The kiss. Practically the make out on stage.” They sat down near your feet. Awaiting your answer.

“I don’t know you tell me, Nomi. You’re the one that kissed me like you needed me to breathe.” You chuckled awkwardly, sitting up fully, looking at the person across the from you. The person you had been inlove with for soooo long already. It wasn’t normal.

“Because I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you like that unless I knew for sure that I wanted you. I do. I need you. But I just want to know if you need me and wanted me too.” Naomi wasn’t afraid to admit that they had been totally enamored by you to the point of insatiable desire. Granted they weren’t one to publically display their passionate makeouts with a partner infront of thousands of people, but they couldn’t possibly hold back from you in that moment.

“Of course I want you.” You whispered. The confession leaving their lips leaving you shocked and breathless. A weight lifting from your chest as the relief of the years worth of longing, yearning, and desire was matched by the one person you wanted it from. Naomi moved from the foot of the bed, now sitting next to you, forcing your bodies to face eachother again.

“Yeah? No bullshit?” Naomi asked. Suddenly becoming nervous at the thought of you reciprocating their feelings. “I didn’t actually think-“

“Hey, Naomi?” They stopped speaking, eyes growing wide.

“Yeah?” They asked you, their eyes focused on yours. Butterflies becoming an overwhelming sensation in both your bellies. Both your guys’ skin on fire; the cold hotel room blankets and sheets not doing a goddam thing.

“Kiss me.” You said. Immediately there was contact. Your lips found theirs. The feeling a lot more sensual and real. The kiss you had shared on stage was passionate and full of love. But this one; in private with no prying eyes to watch you exchange the love and affection you two had for one another. The feeling was unmatched.

You moved into their lap. Now straddling their hips as they sat under you, in the bed you two were sharing tonight. Your hands enveloping their face. Their arms pulling you in by wrapping completely around your waist.

Another make out ensued but this time, a lot slower. A lot more intimate than before. A moment you knew you’d both cherish forever. No one else, just you two.

Pulling apart, you continued to hold their face in your hands. Suddenly and totally enamored with every small detail about them that you realized you never took the proper amount of time to admire before. The crappy hotel room lamps casting the perfect glow on their face. You started counting all the small freckles across their face, the shiny and polished jewelry of their nose piercings.

Each individual curl that fell onto their face. You just couldn’t get enough of Naomi. They consumed you. Everything to you was about them. “What are you looking at?” They chuckled nervously, as their eyes scanned over every inch of your face.

“You, and how amazing you look.” You smiled, your eyes meeting theirs. Naomi’s nose scrunched, a big cheesy smile, their perfect teeth on display.

“Oh my god, baby. That was so cheesy.” You both giggled, Naomi rolling you guys over so you’re laying on your back, with them hovering over you. Kissing again before looking at eachother in the eyes. “Guess we can’t say we’re best friends anymore, huh?”

“No, because best friends don’t kiss.”

“Uh yeah, they do. Me, Katie, and Jo do it all the time.” Naomi said, giving you a ‘are you serious’ look.

“Oh, my bad. They don’t make out in each others arms in the bed that they’re sharing. That’s something couples do.” You replied, pushing loose curls out of their face.

“Oh, so we’re a couple now?” Naomi asked, semi serious look on their face, in a joking tone. Full intent on making you their girlfriend whether you were suggesting it or not.

“I don’t know, are we?” You wanted them to say it. To hear it come from their lips, looking at you, is something you have fantasized about for the longest time. The better part of your friendship. You obviously never saw yourself making it official…why do it now? You wanted to so bad but you wanted them to. Selfish, but you wanted it. You were gonna make them your partner, whether you had to act like you already were or for them to say it.

The little game of back and forth was eating you both up alive. One of you needed to say that you were together. Your eyes daring eachother to.

“You wanna be my girlfriend, gorgeous girl?” Naomi’s eyes grew soft, their long lithe fingers pushing your hair behind your ears. Naomi loved that they could see all of your face like this. They loved you like this. You, lying under them, them asking you to be their girlfriend. There was nowhere else Naomi wanted to be then right here over you. Looking at you like you had hung the moon and the stars.

“I would love to be your girlfriend, baby.” You kissed Naomi, smiling into the kiss. Rolling over again, you ending up back in their lap, straddling their hips. Pulling apart, your foreheads resting on each others, you simultaneously whispered ‘finally.’

Unbeknownst to you both, the sudden synchronous exclaim had you in a fit of giggles before you decided to take a picture of Naomi. To announce that what you two shared was real and not some show for the fans or some way to express your love for eachother while being completely and utterly in denial of the other loving you back.

Your hand pinching their cheeks, because when did you not take pictures of them like this…literally never. You still straddling their lap, Naomi smiled widely. We’re talking the biggest smile you have ever seen grace their handsome face. You put your phone up, making sure to get your legs wrapping around their hips before taking the picture. You changed the filter to black and white, captioning it ‘my baby💍💋’ before posting it.

You set your phone down, and kissed Naomi passionately once more. Turning off the big lights in the room, the small lights creating a nice calm, romantic ambiance. You both layed in eachothers arms. The total bliss you felt to be together—officially. It was amazing.

You two turned on the TV, and about ten minutes after turning it on, fifteen minutes after posting your hard launch, Josette, who happened to be sharing a room with her girlfriend next door, started yelling.

She was so loud you could hear her through the walls. It didn’t take any longer to gather what she had been yelling about. “Fucken finally! They’re finally official!”

You and Naomi both laughed at your bestfriend before interlocking your fingers together and enjoying the rest of your peaceful and romantic time together. As a couple. The allegations definitely got to you and were in no way gonna be beat now.

[swiftiefirefighters]

this started as me just working out some tommy headcanons/thoughts/whatever i'm having and sort of ended up being first time i love yous/tommy finding his family fic idk im on a role im obnoxious and im a terrible writer who is not proofreading or going back over anything i'm spewing from my fingers tonight so please just.....scrolls

the thing about tommy that hits so hard is just how much he longs for a family like you have to wonder if that's why he joined the army - he's my age, probably graduated right after 9/11 in the peak of patriotism and brotherhood and blah blah blah, after growing up with a father who clearly didn't show him love at best and was actually abusive at worst and we don't know anything about his mom but we can assume he just didn't have that family he needed but the army just brought him into a situation of war and homophobia and violence that he probably didn't expect because it's not the pretty lie that was sold and then he got of the arm and probably joined the academy - a lot like eddie, maybe he longed for the team-feeling that the army had or at least sold and maybe there was a part of him that felt like he would be able to finally settle into himself.

except he landed under vincent gerrard and every single defense mechanism in him just reverted - reverted back to the person he became under his dad, the person the military forced him to be under dont ask don't tell, because it was just easier (and boy he regrets it - he regrets it so much because that's not who it is and he wants to think it's not who he was but it doesn't matter does it because it's the person he showed himself to be and he's lucky hen or chim will even speak to him now). and then he slowly started to find a bit of a place under bobby but then that never quiet felt right either, did it? so he left there too and kept trying to find his place. hen was queer and chim was accepting and bobby wasn't homophobic, but he still never quite felt like they were his family - never really belonged.

and he thought he could maybe find that at harbor. lucy is great and they get along and they go out sometimes, like he did with the 118, and eventually he just stops hiding. he comes out and he thinks maybe this is when it happens, especially since it was a non-thing to the people at his house. he never shouted that he was gay from the rooftops or anything but he just stopped pretending and it was freeing but he still didn't find his family.

and the thing is, what this whole post started with, is that that's such a queer story isn't it? there's a reason so many queer people are drawn to found families. because a lot of times we find our people outside of our blood relationships. even when we have decent relationships with our families but especially when we don't. it resonates with us. and tommy is still looking for that even once he lands at harbor. they're friends and they're co-workers, but it's still nothing like the 118 has built.

and then he meets buck.

and, well, maybe he's starting to find a family in evan, but he's not quite sure how or where or if he fits because evan has this whole family with group chats and inside jokes and sure he gets along with eddie and that's such a huge step, to be let into the whole buckley-diaz family dynamic, but he still feels like he's on the outside, like he's looking for his own family and his own place. and he still isn't sure how much the 118 wants him around, even though he's kept up with chim through the years, and even maddie and chim have had him and evan over to dinner together. and it feels like it could be something, but he still doubts because how can he feel like he deserves something he's never been allowed to touch.

so one night when they get back to the loft and they're getting ready for bed his phone goes off at the same time as evan's and he quirks an eyebrow before looking to see that he's been added to a big group chat for the 118 and they're partners he just looks at evan questioningly.

"what?"

"did you do this?" he shows evan his phone.

"obviously not. did you see me do that?" Evan laughs and slips into bed. "It must have been Maddie or Chim. I keep telling you everyone likes you. Now plug in your phone and come to bed."

"it's just - "

"I know," Evan says, rolling to his side, reaching out to pull Tommy onto the bed. "You're so so jealous of this family or whatever. You realize you're part of it, right?"

"Not really. I'm just - "

"My boyfriend?" Evan slips his arm around Tommy's middle, sliding his hand inside Tommy's shirt. His fingers are cold, but Tommy can't bring himself to care. "My partner."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly. You're my family, Tommy, so you're there's. Get used to it. They can be kind of annoying."

But Tommy doesn't think that's true because he's never had a family. He can't imagine being annoyed by it.

"Oh."

Evan laughs and it's almost a beautiful enough sound that he forgets what they were even talking about.

"Oh, he says." Evan presses close. "You are so lucky I fell in love with you a long time ago - " And that's another first that Tommy isn't sure he's ready to wrap his head around.

"You - "

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make a big deal of it, Kinard." Evan reaches up to turn the light off. Evan settles next to him and Tommy almost thinks he's asleep. He's not even sure if there's a point in saying it but -

"I love you too, Evan."

Evan hums a quiet sound, and Tommy knows that means he's heard, but he also thinks it might spook Tommy if he says anything else.

So, yeah, Tommy finds his family.

[the-forest-library]

July 2024 Reads

Funny Story - Emily Henry

Summer Romance - Annabel Monaghan

Until Next Summer - Ali Brady

All Roads Lead to Rome - Sabrina Fedel

Expiration Dates - Rebecca Serle

Director's Cut - Carlyn Greenwald

How to Get the Girl - Anita Kelly

Once Upon a Leap Year - Anna Bell

On the Bright Side - Anna Sortino

Near Misses & Cowboy Kisses - Katrina Emmel

Heir, Apparently - Kara McDowell

Only One Survives - Hannah Mary McKinnon

The Lost Alchemist - Samantha Vitale

The Fireborne Blade - Charlotte Bond

The Elizabeth Stories - Isabel Huggan

Pirate Stew - Neil Gaiman

Little Ghost Makes a Friend - Maggie Edkins Willis

Woe - Lucy Knisley

Give Me Space But Don't Go Far - Haley Weaver

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me - Mariko Tamaki, Rosemary Valero-O'Connell

Cat + Gamer, Volume 1 - Wataru Nadatani

None of the Above - Travis Albanaza

Cactus Country - Zoe Bossiere

Soundtrack of Silence - Matt Hay

Just Add Water - Katie Ledecky

I've Tried Being Nice - Ann Leary

Did I Ever Tell You? - Genevieve Kingston

I Shouldn't Be Telling You This - Chelsea Devantez

Little Earthquakes - Sarah Mandel

You Couldn't Ignore Me If You Tried - Susannah Gora

Healing Through the Vagus Nerve - Amanda Armstrong

Adult Survivors of Emotionally Abusive Parents - Sherrie Campbell

The Love Prescription - John M. Gottman, Julie Schwartz Gottman

Better Sex Through Mindfulness - Lori A. Brotto

Stop People Pleasing - Hailey Paige Magee

True to You - Kathleen Smith

Bold = Highly Recommend

Italics = Worth It

Crossed Out = Nope

Thoughts:  The latest Emily Henry audiobook narrated by Julia Whalen did not disappoint. And overall, this was a pretty decent reading month.

Goodreads Goal: 257/300 2017 Reads | 2018 Reads | 2019 Reads | 2020 Reads | 2021 Reads | 2022 Reads | 2023 Reads | 2024 Reads

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 1/3

Guys, I don't even know. Have some Vampire!Tommy/Witch!Buck for shits and giggles.

(CW: age gap? In that Buck's like 22 and Tommy's like 800; morally ambiguous!Tommy in that he's decent for a vampire but does not have a problem with hunting humans)

Read on AO3

The music was louder, the skirts were shorter, and lights were brighter, but somehow nothing at all had changed about these parties in two hundred years.

Wall-to-wall bodies, all of them vying to show off who had the most money, the finest jewelry, the prettiest partner hanging on their arm. The din of voices rising and falling to be heard over the music pumping through the room. Liquor flowing like water, waitstaff carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres that probably cost more than they made in a month. People practically falling over themselves to be seen, to be noticed, to be admired.

All of them completely unaware of the predators that walked among them.

“You don't look like you're having much fun, Kinard.”

He didn't react outwardly beyond raising an eyebrow as Lucy sidled up next to him, a glass of what was most assuredly not red wine in her hand. She leaned back against the wall he'd been holding up all night, scanning the crowded room in front of them with a practiced eye. No doubt she'd already identified the major players here tonight and had been working the room to their advantage since she arrived. Lucy was the youngest of their little coven–turned a mere fifty years ago–but she was already Alonzo's right hand. A position he had been only too happy to cede to her.

“I'm not,” he said dryly, waving away pretty waitress when she started to approach with a tray of champagne flutes, and ignoring the look of pouty disappointment that flashed across her face.

Lucy gave a neutral hum and sipped at her wineglass, her nose wrinkling briefly. Tommy could smell the anti-coagulants in the bagged blood Gerrard was serving the special guests…cheap bastard. Though he supposed it was better than the old days where he would just lure some desperate, destitute souls in off the street and bleed them dry right into the decanters he had sent up to the banquet tables. Okay, maybe these parties had changed a bit in two hundred years.

“You trust that shit?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the glass. Lucy smiled and threaded her arm through his.

“Gerrard's not stupid enough to try and poison me with you and Sal right here,” she said. “Spiteful enough, sure. But not stupid enough.”

Tommy grunted, a slight smile twitching at his lips. It was true. Gerrard was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires on the west coast. His coven sprawled across several cities, and his place at the forefront of coven politics was undisputed. In comparison, Alonzo’s coven was tiny. But they were incredibly respected, well-connected and well-established. Sal had friends in nearly every coven apart from Gerrard's and Tommy…well.

Tommy was also one of the oldest and most powerful vampires on the west coast.

He and Gerrard had history that stretched back much farther than the two centuries Gerrard had been hosting these “parties,” a long and (quite literally) bloody history. He hated the man more than he had ever hated anyone or anything in existence. Including the vampire that had made them both. Gerrard was better at politics, had amassed more power than Tommy could ever have even if he wanted to.

But Tommy had always been stronger.

So yes, Gerrard may have been spiteful enough to try and fuck with their representatives at this little soiree…but he wasn't stupid enough to try anything with Tommy right there.

“Any chance we can duck out before the finale tonight?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

Lucy dug her elbow into his side before letting go of his arm. “Hey, I know you can get by on a couple pints every month, but I'm fucking starving,” she said. Then she sobered and glanced around before leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Besides, Gerrard's been trying to put some bugs in ears about us going soft, not hunting properly. We can't afford to look weak with Gerrard trying to ally with Ortiz. The humans he brought in tonight are gonna die no matter what. Sucks for them, but things are too volatile. You don't have to tear some kid's throat out, but you're not leaving.”

“I hate it when you're logical,” he muttered back, leaning down to kiss her cheek before disengaging from her entirely and straightening up from the wall. “Guess I'll go do a lap. Remind everyone I'm here,” he said. Lucy chuckled.

“Oh trust me, Kinard. Everyone knows you’re here.”

He flipped her off as he skirted the edges of the party, scanning the crowd of writhing bodies with distaste. There were a lot of humans here. Maybe a few coven pets or potential turns–but if he knew Gerrard (and to his everlasting despair, he did) most of them were completely ignorant of the nature of this party, and the bloodbath in their very near future. No doubt they were all people not many would miss–struggling actors who'd come to LA with nothing but audacity and a dream, broke college kids with few family ties, temp agency regulars who barely stayed on a job long enough for people to know their face, let alone their name. Cattle, as far as Gerrard was concerned.

Granted, Tommy used to share that attitude. And hell, it wasn't like he was protesting the mass murder that was about to happen, or trying to warn anyone. He did, as a rule, avoid the wanton violence that Gerrard enjoyed so much, preferring to drink from willing coven pets or flit from victim to victim in the anonymous atmosphere of a club or bar, taking a sip here and a sip there until he was satisfied. Tommy had the self-control to do that, though, and at his age his hunger was easily sated.

He waded through the crowd, expertly ducking away from wandering hands and flirtatious glances, and nodding politely to the members of other covens he knew. Gerrard was hosting in one of the many sprawling mansions his coven owned, the party spread throughout the entire ground floor of the house. Eventually he found a parlor or gameroom or something that had been set up as a sort of bar area. Several bartenders were stationed at various points, all of them dressed in rental uniforms from the same temp agency. Idly, he wondered if Gerrard had someone on staff funneling victims to him. Probably.

Fucking bastard.

The guy holding court at the section Tommy ended up at was just a kid. Granted, pretty much everyone in the room, fellow vampires included, was a kid to Tommy. Hell, there were world heritage sites that were younger than him. But this was a kid. Tommy knew he had to be twenty-one for the temp agency to send him to tend bar, but if he was much beyond that, Tommy would kiss Gerrard when he saw him. He reminded Tommy almost painfully of Lucy the first time he'd seen her.

Granted…he'd never been quite so aware of how beautiful Lucy was.

And the kid was. Beautiful.

Unfairly blue eyes. An easy, charming smile that lit up his whole face like sunshine. Sandy brown hair that was starting to curl where his hairline was damp with sweat. A pink splotch of a birthmark over his eye that gave his handsome face a bit of character in the sea of LA-good-looking people. He mixed cocktails and poured drinks with a smooth confidence that didn't quite go all the way through, the whiff of false bravado in such a pretty package drawing the predators around him like catnip.

What was weird, though, was the guy seemed to be noticing. Not that it was particularly noteworthy that some hot young thing in this line of work would notice unfriendly eyes on him…but as Tommy watched, the kid's blue, blue eyes skated dismissively over the humans watching him with hungry eyes, but zeroed in on every single vampire that approached him and watched them unblinkingly until they moved away from him.

Intrigued as well as admiring now, Tommy slid into an open spot at the bar being tended to by another young man (not nearly as interesting or attractive) and ordered a whiskey, neat, and separate glass of Coke. Human food and drink was useless to him, of course, but he did still enjoy the taste of good alcohol. He could while away quite a bit of time just sipping on a drink, holding the taste in his mouth, savoring the flavor, before reluctantly spitting it out into another glass.

He watched the young man with the birthmark get jumpier and jumpier as the night wore on, though he hid it well. He didn't have any of the tattoos or sigil rings or jewelry that the covens used to mark their pets, didn't smell like he spent a great deal of time around vampires (although whatever cologne he was wearing smelled fucking delicious, and Tommy usually hated the artificial scents humans doused themselves in). He wasn't exactly sure why he was so interested in the kid…but damned if he wasn't curious. There was maybe even the thought that if he had to participate in tonight’s “feast,” he may as well indulge in such a tempting offering. The poor boy was going to die, anyway…Tommy could make it gentle. Pleasant, even.

He'd resolved to hang around the bar and stake his claim quickly when Gerrard announced that dinner was to be served, when the kid quietly grabbed the bartender who had served Tommy by the elbow and jerked his chin towards a darkened hallway that led off into another part of the mansion. The other bartender rolled his eyes, but followed willingly enough. Tommy was debating on following them, when one of Gerrard’s newer turns melted from the crowd and followed the path they'd just taken.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, recognizing the expression on the younger vampire's face. He was hungry. And he was tired of waiting.

It wasn't really his business. But unaccountably, he didn't like the idea of one of Gerrard's lackeys following the pretty human. He didn't like the idea of anyone else sinking their fangs into the intriguing kid, but especially one of Gerrard's people. Damn it.

He got up from the bar and made his own way down the hall.

“I'm telling you, man, something’s off here! We should go.” The urgent voice was whispering, but away from the music pumping in the other parts of the house, Tommy was able to hear it easily.

“Go? Are you fucking crazy? Evan, we're getting two grand each plus tips. That's rent and bills for this month and it's only the first!”

“Exactly!” ‘Evan’ hissed back. “You don't think that's fucking weird? The temp place doesn't book us in places like this! Please, let's just cash out and go. Something's…something's really wrong here. Something bad.”

“Evan,” the other bartender sighed. Tommy paused in the shadows of the darkened hallway, cocking his head and just listening. “Dude, normally I would totally take your word on vibes, but we need the money, man. Like–are you seriously telling me you can't show some creepy old dude a good time for a couple hours? For two grand?”

“Max! I'm not talking about some old creep grabbing my junk, something is wrong here and we need to leave.”

‘Evan’ sounded increasingly desperate, and Tommy frowned. Just what was freaking the kid out so much? What had he figured out? Tommy fucking hated Gerrard, but credit where credit was due, he was good at hiding the true nature of these parties until it was too late.

“Look man, you can leave if you want. I'm sticking it out. If one of these rich fucks tries to touch your no no box, send ‘em my way, okay? I will be happy to show them a good time for this kind of cash.”

“Max!”

Tommy heard a scoff and then the sound of feet rapidly approaching. The other bartender stalked past Tommy without even acknowledging him. Shame. He should have taken Evan's advice. It had to be getting close to midnight, and Gerrard was a dramatic fuck. If all the doors and windows weren't locked, yet, they soon would be.

But Tommy wasn't interested in Evan's friend. He continued down the hallway, ears pricked and listening for the other vampire that had followed the young men. The mansion was a labyrinth of hallways and interconnected rooms…the other must have skirted another route to avoid being seen.

His suspicions were proven right when he rounded the last corner of the hall and came out into an unused parlor. It was too small to be of much interest to the party-goers, too far removed from the main part of the house. It did have a lovely pair of French doors that opened out onto the moonlit garden, though. The other vampire must have detoured through the gardens.

He'd burst through the French doors.

And he had the pretty human pinned up against the opposite wall.

He wasn't even trying to hide his true nature, his fangs fully dropped and grinning, his eyes the gleaming, blood red of vampire about to feed.

“No need to leave early,” the vampire hissed, like a fucking cartoon villain. “We can get started on the main event right now.”

God, even Gerrard's turns were dramatic fucks.

The kid was clawing at the hand around his throat, his eyes wide with terror, the piercing scent of fear filling the room. He kicked and hit at his attacker, fighting like a maddened animal. Gerrard's turn just laughed, enjoying his struggles, a cat playing with a mouse. Tommy growled, low in his throat. He didn't really mean to…it just happened.

The other vampire startled a little, his gaze whipping over his shoulder towards Tommy, his grip on the kid's throat loosening.

Evan dragged in a desperate gasp of air, grabbed hold of his attacker's shoulders, and croaked out a word in a language other than English. Tommy's ears caught on it, the shape and sound of it dimly familiar, calling up barely-there memories of sitting in church with a woman whose face he hadn't been able to picture clearly in centuries.

Beneath Evan's hands, the other vampire's clothes started to smoke. Still facing Tommy, his face contorted in surprise. And then pain.

And then he was burning.

Fire raced over his body, exploding outwards from his chest, consuming him in a flash, in a heartbeat, in an instant. Before Tommy's very eyes, the turn's body dissolved into glowing ash, erupting into a cloud of fine grit that scattered over the floor in front of the kid.

A witch.

The thought skipped through Tommy's head, shock almost making him slow, almost making him miss the way the kid's head snapped up, his terrified gaze zeroing in on Tommy. A witch. The kid was a witch. He was a witch and he was looking at Tommy, realizing Tommy was another of the things that had just tried to kill him.

He saw the kid's face harden, saw him reach one hand out towards Tommy, pointing as he opened his mouth again.

The kid was a witch. But Tommy was very powerful. And very fast.

In a flash, he was across the room, snatching the witch up and shoving him against the same wall Gerrard's turn had. He clapped his hand over the boy's mouth, crowding in close and holding him immobile with his bulk.

“None of that,” he said, “someone's gonna have to vacuum this carpet tomorrow.”

The witch, Evan, glared at him furiously, his chest still heaving, his scent still sour with fear.

Behind them, the thumping music of the party suddenly cut off. A moment later, the first piercing scream rang out in the mansion.

“Guess it's dinnertime,” Tommy sighed, groaning and looking up at the ceiling a moment. “Well. What am I gonna do with you?”

[unrepentantweirdo]

Robert Joseph MacCready Headcanons and Birth Chart- Part One!

Hello everyone! It's time for what has been months in the making. I promised to give you my MacCready headcanons and his astrological birth chart, and today I'm delivering. (Partly because y'all are going to hate me when I post the next chapter of Defenders At The Crossroads (DATC), because it's going to be sad angsty RJ hours.)

Part one is going to be the headcanons I have so far. So without further ado, let's get to it!

Full name: Robert Joseph MacCready Born: April 4, 2265, around 8:35 a.m., Capital Wasteland (Aries sun, Scorpio moon, Taurus ascending; will be explained in one of the next parts.) Hair color: Light brown Eye color: Blue, kind of like this- https://www.pinterest.com/pin/eyes--375839531382357679/ Height: 5' 8.5" (173 cm) Build: Lean and wiry. Muscular arms and legs from all the walking and carrying he has to do. After starting to travel with Cassie, he develops a bit more muscle and gains a little weight, since he's able to eat properly. * Like atombonniebaby, I HC that Mac is of Scottish descent, but I think he also has a bit of Irish thrown in there. * Has plenty of scars across his body from his adventures in the wastes. Couple of bullet wounds from a sentry bot, some cuts here and there. * He has decent posture, only slouches when he sits sometimes. * Is attached to his current clothing, but especially the duster and hat. Both were gifts from Lucy. That's why it hurt when the sleeve got torn off by ferals during his first attempt to clear Med-Tek. * As an adult, his temper only comes out when someone is disrespecting him, someone is abusing their power, or someone is harming kids or loved ones. * Prefers to bluff his way out of confrontation, because Duncan needs him. But he isn't afraid to get down and dirty and fight. * Is actually a bit allergic to dust. Cassie ends up giving him a bandana (that isn't Gunner) for when they explore old buildings. * While he hates being wet (because wet=cold), he likes warm showers and baths. He'd be a shower hog, I think. * He has a few missing teeth, the ones that are left are a little messed up (cavities, crooked). When they start bothering him a lot, Cassie drags him to Vault 81 to get them fixed. She stays with him and holds his hand, even when they knock him out. * His best friend was Lucy, both growing up and as an adult. Yes, I HC that Little Lamplight Lucy is his Lucy, and I will die on that hill. * Him and Lucy went on a trip to the Commonwealth shortly after they reunited. It was there that they got married, and where they found out Lucy was expecting Duncan. * He has PTSD. Usually manifests in night terrors of Lucy's death, sometimes panics when surprised by ferals. On really bad days, he's crying when he wakes up. * Carries a lot of guilt. Not telling Lucy the truth about being a mercenary, him not being able to save her, Duncan getting sick. So much guilt. * Slightly afraid of thunderstorms and being in open spaces. * Hates staying in one place for too long, loves to travel. * Is abrasive and hardened toward others, but for his loved ones he's soft and affectionate. * Smells like gun oil, leather, and a hint of cigarettes. Whiskey if he's drinking, and gunpowder after a firefight. * Super observant, whether it's looking through a scope or reading people up close. (He's not as good as Deacon with the latter, but that's mostly because of age and experience.) * He's touch-starved. Other than Duncan, he hasn't had close contact with anyone since Lucy died. * He loves homemade gifts. * Love languages: physical touch, quality time, acts of service; both giving and receiving. * When it comes to flirting, he's pretty smooth. But when Cassie flirts back, he turns into a blushing, stuttery mess. Over time, it just becomes blushing. * When he first starts having feelings towards Cassie, he panics and feels like he's betraying Lucy. Hancock and Daisy are the ones that help bring him around, as well as a near-death experience. * Worries about Cassie more the closer they get, as she is a close to mid-range fighter. It eases some when he teaches her how to snipe. * Mentally swears almost all the time; it's why he almost slips up so often. * He likes to draw, whether it's silly doodles in his letters to Duncan or drawing things he likes. * Loves to read to Duncan (and any kids he and Cassie might have, so far I have one planned for sure).

PART TWO (MORE HEADCANONS!)

PART THREE (THE BIRTH CHART THAT NAILED HIM!)

[luminouslywriting]

I read and adored Timeless, and I now have the biggest crush ever on Gale (also would love to be friends with Bucky and all his chaotic energy). I know you have a million projects in the works, but if you ever get the chance, would you consider writing some domestic headcanons for Gale? ❤️

ABSOLUTELY! The way that I screamed when I saw this in my inbox haha! i don't nearly get enough asks and I love this kinda thing! So yes yes yes!! And also, you're so sweet and it absolutely made my day to get your message about Timeless 🥰

Let's get into it!

-Gale Cleven is above all things, a man that keeps his emotions close to his chest and isn't super verbal about the way that he's feeling. But you know what he's really really great at?? ACTS OF SERVICE!

-He is a firm believer that the little things make the difference in people's lives!

-You've had a tough day at work or school? Flowers for you when you get home

-The car is a little low on gas and he's fully aware that you're capable of getting it yourself BUT he's getting it for you because he wants to

-He's out getting a few things to fix things up back at home (be it plumbing or lighting or whatever it is) and he'll see a small thing and think of you. So maybe it's a piece of candy or something he knows that you've been wanting for a while, but he gets it! This is also goes along with gift-giving, but I digress

-He notices you're tired and a little low on energy? Don't worry babe, he's got you covered with the dishes or cleaning up a mess or whatever it is

-Now I do really think that he expresses a lot through physical touch

-So if you're brushing your hair or doing a nighttime routine, he's gonna be watching you starry-eyed and wanting to help in some way

-He's absolutely the type of man to brush your hair for you or do his attempt of putting it up if you prefer it that way.

-LOVES physical affection when it's just the two of you

-It's the quiet hand-holding during dinner

-Or the way that he'll pull you closer while trying to fall asleep because he loves the way that you fit against him and it's really comforting

-There's at least one time where he's washing the car himself and you're watching from inside and THIRSTY and I can't say that I blame you, okay?? That may or may not be how you ended up pregnant, but that's ANOTHER STORY haha

-Saturday is work day and Sunday is a day of rest even if you two aren't necessarily religious

-Like, he wants to get all of the shopping and house-work done on Saturday so lazy Sundays can exist for the two of you

-But also he doesn't like to just laze around so he's usually up before you and Sunday mornings might just mean breakfast in bed for the two of you

-I do think he's actually pretty decent at cooking and would definitely get better at it as time goes on

-Sunday afternoon walks around the neighborhood, especially when you have babies haha

-Washing the dishes together absolutely ends in water fights if you're in a playful mood

-He's a dog person so you guys definitely adopt a dog or maybe two or three together

-Loves working with you, especially with his hands

-He also really likes late-nights when you're reading in bed together or just cuddled up on the couch to watch some late night tv shows or movies

-He's an I Love Lucy fan and this is just the facts

-He's a caretaker so be on the watch for if you're sick because he will absolutely baby you and take care of you

-But if he's sick? Hahahahaha, that man is working through it until you can convince him to rest

-Some spicy things next haha

-He has an authority kink in the bedroom and you can't convince me otherwise

-SOFT-DOM GALE, SAY IT WITH ME NOW

-He's absolutely relentless when he's in the mood and there are so many little domestic things that get him in the mood. It can be as simple as you bending over to put something away or something as mundane as you playing the piano and watching your fingers move. That doesn't necessarily mean he's VOCAL about it, but if you find yourself suddenly pinned and he's giving you a certain look, then you know what's about to happen haha

-Gets more comfortable being vocal in your sex life as things progress and time goes on

-PRAISE SO MUCH PRAISE

-Sometimes he comes home from work and he acts like a man half-starved and kitchen sex is a thing, though i could not tell you why haha

-ANYWHO, it would just be the most loving relationship and you'd always be taken care of

-And as always, let me know if you want to see me elaborate on anything or if you just want to chat! I'm always down haha!