#(and might come to group outings they organise like 5% of the time)

[soaptaculart]

My very specific headcanon that these five characters have a group chat called The Girls and Klavier has always wanted to be in it so badly but they won't let him be one of the girls

#ace attorney #klavier gavin #mostly #ema skye #franziska von karma #kay faraday #sebastian debeste #maya fey #apollo justice #look at me bothering to tag everyone today. proud of me #i drew something #i think this is my biggest contribution to society so far #i have been rotating the The Girls gc in my mind for several months #(apollo is a fringe member he never really talks in it he just scrolls through it when he's bored at work) #(and might come to group outings they organise like 5% of the time)

[ughgoaway]

playing on my mind

content warnings: swearing, referring to Matty as tall (look we all lie for plot purposes okay), dilf Matty and rushed writing... i think that's it? word count- 3.3k ish

a/n: woah this was quick but I am nothing if not impulsive!! this is just a one-shot but if y'all want a series I might do one?? idk it depends on how inspired I am lol. but yes this is just my little blurb-thing from yesterday fleshed out into an actual story!! I'm so glad people liked the idea, I hope this doesn't disappoint <333

(I didn't proofread this so I apologise if its utterly shit </3)

“And off you go! If you need your pencils sharpened or help, make sure you raise your hand! I’ll come to see you!” You say to the group of 30 little balls of energy in front of you. 60 eyes looking up at you might seem intimidating to most, but when it's a hyperactive group of 5-year-olds; the fear wears off slightly.

It was family tree week in your classroom, and you had given your little ones the usual task of drawing their family, each set up with pieces of paper and various pencils and pens to create their masterpieces. Seeing them smile and talk about their older sisters and brothers or how much they love their parents always warmed your heart. 

You originally got into teaching with every intention of working with teenagers. You were sure you shouldn't be moulding such young minds - you were never sure your mind was a very good example. But one test week in a year 1 classroom changed your outlook entirely. Seeing the pure, unadulterated joy on a young child's face was something beyond comparison. 

Getting to watch them grow and develop into little people brought you so much happiness that it could never compare to standing in front of a group of grumpy teenagers. Each teen boy clearly trying to get you over to their desk to “flirt” with you, well as much firting as a 15-year-old boy can do.

Seeing a child come out of their shell, make friendships, and discover their passions made your heart warm in a way nothing else did. So as soon as you qualified you jumped at the opportunity to teach these little ones, this class might be your first but you are sure it will always be your favourite.

And of course, despite what every teacher tells you, they have a favourite student. You were adamant when you began that you really wouldn't have a favourite but then little Annie Healy came bounding into your classroom with a mop of curly hair, untamable energy and the cutest slightly wonky smile you've ever seen. 

She very quickly stole your heart, always wanting to tell you stories and going off on tangents rather quickly, organising tea parties but soon getting distracted leaving you at a small table surrounded by teddy bears giving a toast. Her little body seemed to be filled with enough energy to power the world 3 times over, and you couldn't love her anymore. The idea that she would be leaving your class broke your heart every time you thought about it, despite people telling you not to get attached - you did,

You had just settled at your desk after explaining for the 4th time to Zach that sticking pencils up our noses isn't a very good idea. You ended up telling him if he pushed too far, he'd touch his brain, and soon after that, the pencils stayed firmly in his hand rather than up any nose. If any student was the problem child, it was him. You couldn't hate any student, but let's just say he's given you one too many impromptu haircuts this year to be in line for your favourite.

Soon your real favourite student stuck her arm into the air and wiggled it around in an attempt to get you to see her sooner, little Annie Healy was ever impatient- a trait that is only endearing on her. You quickly nodded and started wandering over, trying not to laugh at her large toothy grin back at you.

“Hi sweetheart, do you need some help?” you say, crouching down to her eye level, flashing a sweet smile.

“Hi miss y/n!” she began, her eyes flittering around your face before landing on your hair, and soon, her hands were stroking your head.

“Wow! I like your hair! It's got sparkly clips in it! You know I asked my daddy for some like that, and he said-” you gently placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to stop the tangent before it started. You knew she'd somehow end up keeping you there for 20 minutes, giving you a detailed list of all of her Barbie dolls and their jobs if you didn't redirect her quickly enough.

“Thank you, Annie! I saw your arm wiggling in the air earlier. Did you need some help?” her eyes light up as she remembered why she called you over here.

“Oh! Yeah, I want to write what's in my daddy’s hands, but I don't know how to spell it. Will you help me?” she says, bringing her attention back to her drawing and grabbing the black pencil to continue her work. It's the first time you actually looked at her drawing, and to say you were concerned would be an understatement.

Most drawings of family consist of the same basic elements; a mum, a dad, a sun in the corner, and a house that is wildly disproportionate to everything else.

So imagine your surprise when you look down to see 4 men in what seems to be leather jackets, holding various musical instruments, and a very tall dog next to them.

You blink a few times. Just checking what you're seeing is right. The lineup starts with a tall man holding a guitar, next to a slightly shorter man also holding a guitar with a mess of black scribbles on his head. Next up is a very tall man with drumsticks in his hands and a kit behind him, and finally another very tall man with a beard and a bass. The concern briefly melts away as you consider how impressive it is she knows the difference. In the bottom left corner is a black dog with very long legs and a big pink tongue sticking out, the dog was almost as tall as the first man but you're aware kids aren’t known for their skill with proportion.

No one had prepared you for this in teaching school, there was never a lecture about what to do if one of your kids does a mildly troubling family drawing of 4 men in leather jackets and a horse dog. You try to stutter a response to Annie, but no real words are leaving your mouth. Just a jumble of sounds, each one sounding more confused and stressed than the last.

You flash a look at her only to be met with a confused head tilt and sad eyes. Oh god. She thought you hated her drawing. Shit.

Time for damage control.

You make the decision then and there not to ask her about the details of her drawing, desperately trying not to make her cry. 

Maybe you could go and see her mum in the playground? Yes, that's what you'll do. You'll walk her out, have a brief discussion with Mum, and make sure Annie knows her family isn't 4 men in a band and then leave her be. That sounds like the professional thing to do.

You take a deep breath and smile at Annie, and soon her downturned lips flashed that cheesy grin you knew so well. You tighten your hand on her shoulder and grab a pen, ready to help her any way she needs. 

“Do you mean the word ‘guitar’ Annie?” she gives you an excited nod as you continue speaking, “Ah yes, that's a really hard word for even grown-ups to spell. Let's work it out together, hmm?”

With your mind racing you help her sound it out and label her drawing, even stopping to sharpen her black colouring pencil for her- there's a lot of black for young girls drawing but she's committed to an aesthetic, and part of you respects that.

On the walk back to the desk, you begin practising your speech in your head, trying to figure out how to ask why she’s drawing a band as her family without unknowingly offending mum. Maybe she just really likes music?

You run through your memories trying to think of her mentioning a band before, but nothing comes to mind, Annie doesn't even stay on track long enough to talk about her family. Always seeing something shiny and discussing that instead. 

You flick your eyes to her one more time just to see her animatedly talking with another little girl on her table, her hands gesticulating wildly and her curls bouncing as she tells her story.

The sight calms you slightly, seeing the little girl you know so well acting exactly as she should be. You have the fleeting thought that you might be overreacting, but eventually, you collect the drawings to see Annie had dated her work “1975”. Yup, that discussion with her parents was definitely happening.

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

The bell rings, and you manage to catch Annie just before she runs off into the playground without you, “Hi Annie! I have your drawing from today. Should we show it to mummy and daddy together?” her eyes light up as her curls bounce from her excited nods. 

You walk hand in hand out onto the playground, crouching down you make eye contact with Annie before asking, “Can you point out your mum or dad Annie?”

She nods and begins scanning the playground. You stifle a laugh at the look of concentration on the young girl's face. Her nose is scrunched along with her eyebrows, one hand pulling at a curl by her ear and the other holding yours. Soon, you see her face brighten, and her eyes fill with joy. 

“DADDY!!” is the scream that comes from the little girl as her hand shoots from her head to point to the corner of the playground, she starts dragging you before you even look up but as you do, you feel your heart drop.

As a student teacher, you'd definitely seen some hot dads, but they were still dads. Most were slightly creepy, partially balding, and talked about nothing but golf and their “annoying” wives. You were used to that kind of dad, not exactly this kind.

Standing nonchalantly in the corner of the playground was a tall man. A pile of salt and pepper curls sat on top of his head; untamed but effortlessly and obnoxiously cool. The white t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide the patchwork of tattoos that snaked up his arms. The low neck of the top even teased the top of his chest tattoo. Sunglasses sat on his face, they gave him an "I'm too cool" rocker vibe that, for some unknown reason, made you dizzy.

In one hand, he had a lit cigarette, something that was not allowed on school property, but the way his cheeks hollowed as he took a drag had you forgetting that rule completely. He dropped the butt of the cigarette to crush it with his heavy boots before taking a sip of the can of coke that was in his other hand. 

As he noticed you coming over, a dazzling smile broke out on his face. You felt your knees weaken as you tried to brush off how hot he was. 

You then realised you actually had to speak to this man. Fuck. You're not sure you even have a voice currently. If you opened your mouth, you're sure incoherent noises would come out, followed by wild hand motions trying to explain your insane behaviour.

The closer you got, the less you stared at him, feeling too intimidated to keep looking in his direction. This did mean you almost tripped 3 times, but you would rather fall than risk making eye contact with this intimidatingly attractive man.

Annie dropped your hand as you finally reached the man, and she jumped into his arms. He grunted at the force but soon began pressing kisses all over her face, smiling at her uncontrollable giggles.

Quickly, the man noticed your presence and stuck a hand out to introduce himself, “Hi! Sorry about that, you know what it's like when kids miss you. I’m Annie’s dad, Matty.” 

And this is where a normal person would introduce themselves, stick their hand out, and shake Matty’s. Maybe even say their name and start talking, but oh no. Not you. You stood there motionless and just said “Matty” breathlessly to yourself 3 times over.

Time dragged on in the 10 seconds Matty stood there with his hand out. If you weren't aware of how time worked, you would swear you stood there in stilted silence for 10 minutes. 

By some grace of god, little Annie Healy saved you and introduced you, “Daddy. This is Miss y/n. She wanted to come and show you my drawing." 

Matty retracted his hand and pushed the sunglasses that sat on the bridge of his nose up to his mess of curls, just as wayward as his daughters. His deep brown eyes met yours as he tilted his head questioningly at your behaviour. His smile remained wide at you, his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and you felt your heart stutter. A litany of inappropriate thoughts swirling through your mind.

He quickly diverted his attention back to his daughter, “Oh really munchkin? Is your drawing just that amazing? Is Miss y/n going to send it to all the museums?” he said whilst tickling her sides. You smiled at the pair of them watching Annie throw her head back with erratic laughter. 

Finally, you manage to right yourself and begin speaking, “Right. Sorry about that, long day,” you explain, looking apologetically at Matty, who only nodded and tried to hide his widening smile at your flustered state. 

“I'm just here to talk about Annie's drawing,” you pause briefly and look at Annie in her dad's arms. Not wanting to disappoint her, you form a plan in your mind. “Hey Annie, why don't you go practise some hopscotch! I'm just going to have a quick chat with your dad, okay?”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Annie was wiggling out of her dad's arms and running off.

“She's got endless energy that one hasn't she?” you say wistfully, staring off in the direction she ran, watching her jump around and giggle with some of her friends.

“Ah like father like daughter, I suppose” Matty says, grinning at your clear love for his little girl. He feels his heart warm at your caring eyes. “So what seems to be the issue? I'm sure you're not over here because the Louvre has asked for Annie’s drawing?” 

You laugh at Matty's joke, perhaps a little too hard. Nervous laughter was one of your less attractive traits, but you try to shake it off and have an actual adult conversation with Matty. 

“Ah no, no phone calls from Paris yet,” you begin laughing lightly, you pull out Annie's drawing and pass it over to Matty and start to analyse his reaction as you finish speaking, “I was just coming over to ask why Annie's family portrait is seemingly a band? I wanted to make sure she knows her family isn't 4 tall men in leather jackets and a surprisingly tall horse dog.”

As you finish your sentence, Matty bursts out in hysterical laughter, folding over as his chortling laughter takes over his whole body. Your face scrunches up at his reaction, your eyebrows are pinched, and a small frown overtakes your features. 

Eventually, Matty catches his breath and looks up at you only to realise how strange his reaction appears. His hand shoots up to your arm and begins to stroke it lightly as he attempts to explain himself.

Each featherlight stroke of his fingers made your breath hitch. You felt your eyes fogging over, and your ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton wool, the surrounding sounds suddenly becoming muted.

A shake of your head brought you back to earth as you fought to focus on the words Matty was saying.

“Oh I'm so sorry, once you know the story you’ll understand my reaction” Matty began explaining with wide apologetic eyes, “basically Annie's mum isn't in the picture, it's just me and my 3 best friends,” he said smiling.

You lightly laugh and say, “Ah I'm assuming they are the man with the guitar, the one with the bass and the other with the drumsticks?” You finish with a teasing tilt of your head.

Matty's fingers encircle your wrist as that smile you've quickly grown to love appears on his face once again at your teasing.

“Yes those are the ones. You see we’re all in a band - hence all the instruments. I always tell Annie that Uncle George, Ross, and Adam are our family. So when you asked for a family drawing...”

“She drew her family!” You finish his sentence for him, staring at his hand and holding your wrist as you do. He quickly drops it, and you curse yourself for bringing it to his attention.

You wrap your arms around your stomach protectively in an attempt to hide your mounting embarrassment.

Matty smiles and starts to speak again, only to be interrupted by you, “Wait I understand that, but why did she date it ‘1975’?”

Somehow, Matty's smile grew again, “Our band is called the 1975. Weird, I know, but it comes from me being young and pretentious with a Jack Kerouac book.”

Before you could respond, Annie came bounding over and wrapped herself around her dad's leg, “Dadddd” she complained, pulling out the last letter to announce her annoyance to the world.

“Annieeee” Matty teased back in the same tone as her, picking her up as he did.

“Can we go home now? I want to see mayhem!!” she said, excitedly clapping her hands as she finished.

You shoot Matty a questioning look, and he quickly answers your silent query, “the horse dog” he says teasingly, parroting your earlier words back at you.

“Okay darling, let's get going then,” Matty says with a grunt, putting Annie down, grabbing her hand, and taking her backpack from her.

“Say bye to miss y/n Annie,” he says, smiling sweetly at you, but you can see the mischief brewing in his eyes.

His eyes keep your attention so long you almost miss Annie's sweet goodbye, “bye miss y/n! See you tomorrow! Can we talk about your sparkly clips tomorrow?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“Of course, little miss Annie!” You say smiling at the young girl. You focus solely on her in an attempt not to get lost in her father's eyes again.

You watch them walk away but after a few steps they pause, Matty turns over his shoulder and waves with his free hand, “Bye miss y/n” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice and a flirty wink.

Before you can even process what just happened, he's strolling away casually, and all the mums in the playground are silently lusting after him.

A heavy breath leaves your chest as you start to watch him leave.

“Isn't he gorgeous” a voice behind you whispers, causing you to jump and let out a small scream. You hold a hand to your chest and look at your colleague with wild eyes.

“Oh my god, Amanda, please do not sneak up on me like that! I'm fragile” you say, now laughing at your ridiculous reaction.

“Sorry, sorry,” she begins giggling, “but isn't he just so hot? Annie was in my class last year, and I used to count down the days until parent’s evening! I mean, who wouldn't want to sit across a desk from a man who looks like that?” Amanda says, wiggling her eyebrows flirtatiously.

She begins to teasingly poke your sides at your awkward silence, and you quickly brush her off and straighten up, “Amanda! You can't talk like that about a parent!” You say, trying and failing to have any conviction in your voice.

“I can when the parent looks like that!” she says, smiling and watching Matty stroll away.

You huff at her behaviour and walk away, desperate to sit down and process what just happened.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your desk chair squeaks as you sit down behind your desk. You spin the chair and pick up a pen to begin marking some spelling tests from last week, but before long, you give up.

Staring off into space with endless thoughts poisoning your mind, only one thing can come out of your mouth. 

“fuck."

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #the teacher reader obsession was too real #once again an obnoxious number of hashtags but we move #i hope you dont all hate this #unsurprisingly i do hate it <3 #teacher au!

[emeritusemeritus]

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 8.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, p in v sex, 69’ing, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Mentions of dominant behaviour. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Love potions? But none are actually used. Not beta-read nor spell checked, we die like Sirius ❤️

The Freddie smut train isn’t stopping 🌹

George returned a little while later, taking a suspiciously long time in the shower which you didn't doubt had been organised by Fred.

"Are you both decent?" He asked as he crept in, smiling at seeing that you were both now clothed and sat on the bed laughing.

"Reckon tea will be ready soon," George says, hopping onto the bed, now clean and redressed. He immediately pulls you into his arms, getting the cuddles you'd promised earlier as you absently draw shapes onto the skin of his arm with your finger as you all chat until Molly calls you for tea.

You all sit and chat as you eat, Fred, Harry and Ron all celebrating their win from earlier in the day. Molly has made a heap of mashed potato, steak and onion pies and veg which you excitedly tuck into, knowing how much you'll miss her cooking when the week comes to an end. It was Hermione's last day at the burrow tomorrow before she went home to her parents and so you were all trying to think of something you could do tomorrow, gathering ideas or group activities but not quite deciding anything.

Fred looks increasingly fidgety throughout dinner, which made you glance at him questioningly a few times. It wasn't entirely uncharacteristic for him to be squirmy and hyper but this seemed different, like he couldn't wait to get away from the table. Once the meal had been had, you and both twins make your way up to their bedroom with Fred immediately fluttering round the room grabbing random things and slinging them into a little shopping bag he'd knicked from Molly.

"You'll probably need a sweater princess, want one of mine?" He asks as he delves into the drawers, not waiting for an answer as he pulls out a green knitted jumper with a big 'F' on the front in gold lettering. You gladly accept and look down at what you're wearing, suddenly wondering if they're suitable.

"Fred, do I need to get changed?" You ask, making him pause briefly as he looks at you up and down.

"No princess, though if you want to wear less I'd have no qualms," he smirks before returning to his digging. You roll your eyes and turn your gaze to George who is lay on the bed reading. You slink into bed beside him and without ever taking his gaze off the page, he opens up his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

"Gonna miss you," you whisper in his ear, quiet enough so Fred wouldn't hear. You see him smile and turn to you as his hand creeps down to reach your bum, giving it a little pat.

"You already know I'll miss you," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Right! Princess if you would like to follow me," Fred says, standing beside the bed and offering his elbow to you like a man in an old fashioned movie. You giggle and stand to grab his elbow, casting one last glance back at George before you slip out of the door and down the stairs, following Fred until he leads you out of the house.

"Where are we going?" You ask, your arms still gripping his arm as he guides you. He looks over at you with a smirk and winks, not disclosing anything.

You follow the familiar path up to the back field, praying that he wasn't going to make you play quidditch.

When you got to the field, he pulled the bag off his wide shoulders and pulled out a large picnic blanket and laid it on the floor as he knelt down, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Okay my princess, we have a blanket, some candles, some beer and."

"Where did you get that?" You interject, laughing as he pulls out two bottles of beer from the bag, no doubt stolen from Arthur's stash. He gives you a wicked smile and leans in to pull you into a kiss, both of you giggling as your lips meet. He then lights the candles around you and reaches into the bag to pull out a little box.

"Okay we have Weasley's whizzbangs, whizzfire bangs, whammy rockets and miraculous mystic mayhem makers," Fred smiles as he pulls out a selection of fireworks from the bag, all tried and tested Weasley products they'd been developing.

"Putting on a show for me handsome?" You flirt, looking at the selection of explosives in front of you.

"Sweetheart, I'm constantly putting on a show for you, have been since second year," he admits with a little chuckle, making you laugh.

You actually end up sitting and talking for the majority of the night, reminiscing about previous pranks you'd all pulled and memories together over the years as you sip on stolen beer. You were both lay on the blanket, your head on his chest as you looked up towards the stars, feeling at peace.

"You're so beautiful," Fred says suddenly, making you turn to face him. Instead of a teasing smirk that you'd expected, he actually looks a little bashful with a smile tugging at his lips. You blush at the sudden intimacy and lean up to kiss him. The kiss starts off slowly and playfully but in no time you are beginning to rut against each other, hands wandering and little breathless gasps falling between your lips in between the passionate kisses.

Something changes in you immediately like a switch had been flicked and you needed to feel him on you, in you, however you could get him, surrendering to the intense desire that Fred always seemed to pull from you.

You began tugging at his sweater, needing to get it off his body to feel him. As he sat up slightly, you immediately began attacking his brown, woven belt to get to what you really wanted.

"What's your rush princess? You need me?" He asks, his hand coming up to grab the side of your face, long fingers tangling into your hair as he feverishly kisses you. You nod and a little whimper falls from your throat without realising as you carry on trying to undress him, the lust you felt becoming a burning need.

Fred pulled off his sweater and T-shirt, leaving him in just his trousers which were quickly pulled down as soon as you'd worked his belt.

"A little unfair don't you think sweetheart?" He smirks, pulling your body to his, your hips meeting as you feel the growing bulge in his underwear against your thigh. He immediately pulls off the sweater and top you're wearing, gasping and growling as he realises that you aren't wearing a bra, your naked breasts spilling out. He immediately latches onto your nipple with his mouth, feasting on the feverish skin as his other hand grabs hold of your neglected breast and toys with the nipple. Your hips chase his at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation as he sucks and nips at your pebbled nipples.

"Fred," you groan, throwing your head back as he sucks little lovebites into the side of your breast, never neglecting the nipple as his tongue switches back and forth, devouring your aching breasts.

"That's it princess, tell me who makes you feel this good," Fred smirks, pushing your breasts together to pay attention to them both. "Such perfect tits," he mumbles as he dives right back in.

Your hands begin to wander on his body, running down his smooth abdomen until you reach the little fuzz of his happy trail and the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand into his underwear and immediately reach for his big, swollen length earning a loud growl from Fred as you wrap your hand around him. He breaks apart from your breast just for a second to pull down his underwear, exposing his perfect cock and balls to you, allowing you to toy with him without restriction.

You slowly begin to move your hand on his cock, tugging and gliding gently just how he likes, causing a broken moan of your name to fall from his lips. He bends his neck to reach down and kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as it wrestles with your own, the sensual glide making you squeeze your legs together to relieve some tension. Fred misses nothing and immediately moves his hands to your jeans to tug them off. You reluctantly let go of his length to let him pull off your jeans and panties in one go. He then pulls off his boxers the rest of the way and slings them away, leaving you both completely naked and exposed.

A single moment passes as you look at each other, your eyes wandering all over his perfect body, really trying to commit it to memory as you look at him with sheer adoration.

He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, smirking against them as his hand begins to trail up your thigh with teasingly delicate touches which only fuel the fire within you further.

His hand meets your wet folds as his fingers slip beneath them, earning a groan from him as he discovers just how wet you are.

"Is all of this for me princess?" He smirks.

You nod, desperately trying to buck your hips so he'll touch you more, chest heaving already at the sensation.

"Have you been thinking about this sweetheart? About how my big cock is going to stretch you out? Filling you up just right."

"Fuck, Fred yes!" You moan as his long, talented fingers slip inside you, curling up to hit that special spot that makes you keen.

"There it is princess, fuck you're so hot, can't wait to get my cock in you," he says as he leans back down, attacking your breasts once again as he works his fingers in and out of you. You immediately reach for his cock and begin pumping him, making deliciously lewd noises fall from his mouth.

"Come here sweetheart," he suddenly says pulling away, gesturing for you to sit up. He moves you and positions you into a similar fashion to what you'd done that afternoon but instead of being on top of him, you are laid on the blanket in opposite directions whilst facing each other.

His cock is right in front of your face, flushed pink and leaking precum already, just begging to be sucked. Fred parts your legs with his big hands and moves to rest his head on your thigh, wrapping the other one over his shoulder as he kisses your pussy lips, teasing you. You buck your hips, trying to get more than just butterfly kisses and he immediately reaches up to spank your ass, causing you to let out a gasping moan.

His hand comes up to spread your little lips and he begins giving little kisses to your sensitive clit, swirling his tongue teasingly around the exposed nub as you gasp.

You can't hold back any longer and grab hold of his cock at the base, squeezing gently before wrapping your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue devilishly around the fat head, licking up all the little beads of precum. Fred immediately moans out your name and begins feasting on your cunt perfectly, both of you trying your hardest to please the other. Your paces are slow and unhurried, trying to tease and please the other to give the most pleasure you can.

You can feel your orgasm building as your hips undulate over his face. He moans, sensing your impending release and strokes your thighs as he begins wildly sucking on your clit, tugging gently and licking over the spot repeatedly as his pace increases, keeping perfect rhythm until you cum.

You have to pull off his cock as a loud moan erupts from you, your body completely at the mercy of his as your climax takes over, the white hot flames burning you from the inside out as you shout if his name.

"Fucking hell princess," he gasps, stroking your thighs as you come down from your high, a blissful smile plastered on your face. "So hot when you cum."

Fred leans up and moves to lie beside you again, smiling and kissing you as he sees your little blissful, fucked out smile and heavy eyelids.

"Want you Freddie, please," you moan, reaching for his cock again.

"One time not enough sweetheart? Or do you need my big cock?"

"Need it Freddie, please," you beg, completely overwhelmed by the emptiness you felt, needing to be filled by him.

"I've got you sweetheart," he cooes, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are directly facing each other. He kissed you passionately, hands wandering as they slip down to your ass again. He squeezes and massages the skin of your ass before reaching down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip. You gasp at the sudden feel of his heavy length pressed against your pussy, just begging for entry.

You reach down and hold his cock steady at the base before rolling your hips just right so that he sinks into your wet heat, both of you gasping and moaning in sync as the bliss of him stretching you out.

"Oh princess, so tight for me," he gasps, thrusting deeper inside of you until every inch of him was buried inside, making you breathless. "Oh you feel perfect princess, so fucking good."

He begins to thrust in and out and you have to hold back your loud moans which you're sure could be heard all the way back at Hogwarts.

You begin to roll your hips in time with his thrusts and you both immediately cry out at the sensation as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands come up to grab at your ass, guiding your movements, helping you to roll your ass back and forth as he fucks you deep.

"Fuck Freddie, so good, you're so deep," you moan out as the angle of his cock presses hard against your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

"Princess, y/n," he moans, "not gonna last, you feel so fucking good."

"Cum Freddie, please, want you to cum inside me!"

He begins brutally thrusting into you, abandoning your hip movements as his hands dig deliciously into the skin as he grips you hard. His groans and moans mix with yours as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with abandon as he nears his end. He suddenly grips you bruisingly hard and slams your hips down onto him one last time, holding your body tight to him as he buries himself as deep as he can. His face scrunches up deliciously as he cums, the blistering hot cum shooting deep into you as his hands keep you firmly in place as your walls clench around him, another orgasm surprising you and taking over your senses.

As the climax slowly begins to wear off, Fred's grip loosens and he slowly rubs the skin where his hands have been to soothe it. He looks up at you with a wide smile and leans down to press a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips as your hands run over his chest.

"Didn't even need the fireworks," he quips as he leans his forehead on yours. You laugh, causing your muscles to contract around him where he's still inside you and you hear him let out a little gasp of over sensitivity. He slowly pulls out, limp cock now resting between you in his thigh as you both take a few moments to catch your breath before untangling yourselves .

"You never needed fireworks to get me into bed... or the ground I guess," you laugh, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. He smiles, watching you dress with a tenderness that made butterflies spread within you.

"You know, it would be a shame to waste these," he says, sitting up and fiddling with the magical fireworks.

"Alright big boy, clothes on first though," you laugh, chucking his T-shirt towards him. You were surprisingly warm and so opted not to wear the sweater, staying in a T-shirt and your jeans as Fred quickly dressed and started preparing the whizz bangs.

You couldn't help but watch him as he moved with proficiently, seeing him in his element of causing mischief as he lined up the whizzbangs.

Moments later, the enchanted fireworks erupted in the sky with a resounding bang, illuminating the entire sky with a prism of colour. One of the particular fireworks turned into a dragon midair and began circling around the rest of the explosions in the most spectacular sight you'd ever seen.

You sneaked a look at Fred's face seeing him smiling in utter delight which made you feel so proud of him and George at their incredible inventions, forever thankful that you could always get a firsthand show.

When the ash settled, the familiar scent of gunpowder and settling smoke overwhelmed your senses and took you back to the potions classroom, smelling the Amortentia. The scent was so unmistakable, like the smell of an extinguished candle with a little more dry smokiness and a lingering musky that was entirely Weasley's wizzbangs.

"Y/n?" Fred asks, bringing your attention back to him. You realised that whilst you had been spaced out, he'd tied away the leftovers from the fireworks and was now lay back on his elbows with his long legs crossed at the ankle, watching you. "Where did you go pretty girl?"

"Nowhere important," you smiled, lying down with him as you looked back at the Burrow, seeing a couple of lights still on throughout the house. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed you. "No one can see us right?"

He laughed and shook his head, "only window that looks out back here is mine and George's," he explains with a smirk, "think he was watching?"

"Fred!" You laughed, hitting his chest at the thought.

"Think he was taking notes on how to please a woman?" He laughs and you nudge him again, throwing him off balance of his elbows, forcing him down. "You didn't argue it, he really that bad?"

"Merlin no, just didn't think you'd want to know all the details about how your twin brother pleases me and how he likes when I-"

""Alright I get the point," he says quickly, pulling a disgusted face at the idea. You had to chuckle as you settled back onto the blanket, sprawling your legs back as you looked up at the stars.

You sneaked a glance over at Fred who was doing the same as you with his eyes closed as he relaxed and thought back to all the times you'd tried to sneak glances at him over the years without him noticing. It was one of those moments when you realised how incredibly lucky you were to have not only Fred but George too, for however long you could have them.

The whizzbang smoke had brought back memories of the Amortentia incident and had stirred something up inside you which was eating away at your happiness, never truly knowing who it was you desired more.

When you and Fred were alone together, it was easy. You'd liked him for years, daydreamed and fantasised about him every chance you could, even so much as scribbling his initials in little notebooks in your younger years like any good schoolgirl would. You'd fantasised of your life together if he ever reciprocated your feelings, your wedding, your future children, all a distant but hopeful thought. It should be easy really, he liked you back and for that you were eternally grateful.

You'd been best friends for years, even closer than you and George had been and it was constantly exciting and passionate, like everyday was a new relationship but without all the awkwardness of learning about each other. Your mischievous best friend turned boyfriend, the constant prank master and joker, always the ringleader; he kept you on your toes at all times, bringing joy and laughter to your life like no other. Your relationship was filled with teasing and witty banter that you hope never faded and you were almost certain that you loved him, and had for a long time.

But then there was George. A prankster and joker at heart but with a stronger conscience and greater moral compass. He was sensitive and kind, at-least more often than Fred tended to be and he was comforting, above all else. George made you feel secure and loved. He was the personification of that feeling after a long, stressful day when you finally got home and could relax, putting on your cosiest, comfiest clothes and shutting out the world as you sought comfort. You'd never anticipated falling for him so hard and just like his brother, you were near certain that you were falling in love with him, if you weren’t already fully there. How were you ever going to chose between them?

"Your thoughts are loud," Fred says and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Sorry," you say, turning your attention back to him, "I think I'm just tired."

"Want to go to bed sweetheart?" He asks tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You had to admit that going to bed did sound very appealing right now, but you didn't want to cut the cut your little date short.

"Not just yet Freddie," you say, leaning back against him. He hums and extends his arm out to you so that you can lean on it.

"Love when you call me that," he says bashfully, touching the braids on your head as he brushes away the little wisps in your face. You smile up at him and immediately your mind, filled with problems and negative thoughts is calmed and quiet again.

You decide to head in not too long after, throwing everything back into the shopping bag and walked back to the house. You managed to sneak in undetected and immediately head up to the twins' shared bedroom, carefully avoiding the creaking stairs whilst trying not to wake anyone, if they'd been able to sleep through the fireworks at least.

Upon entering the room, you noticed that George had in fact made himself scarce and wouldn't be sleeping here tonight, his pillows gone from the bed. You briefly thought of asking Fred but it was his night with you and you didn't want to bring up any potential conflict. Fred had gone to the toilet and so you took the opportunity to take off your makeup with a wipe and get dressed.

You tossed the jumper in your arms over to the washing hamper and shimmied out of your jeans, replacing them with your sleep shorts. Your T-shirt was switched out to one of Fred's old ones that you kept and you dragged yourself into bed, your tiredness from the night before hitting you like the hogwarts express.

When Fred strolled back into the room, he smiled at seeing you in bed. He tore off his clothes, opting to just sleep in his boxers and climbed into bed behind you. It was strange sleeping without George but you didn't fixate on it, you just hoped that wherever he was, he didn't feel pushed out or alone.

Fred's arm immediately falls over your waist, falling just underneath your breasts as he pulls you tightly to him so that his body is directly connected to your back.

"How do you fit so perfectly in my arms?" He whispers into your ear, musing at the near perfect fit of your body in his. It was true; you suspected that his height versus yours had a lot to do with it but you fit neatly into the plains of his body. Your ass was pressed against his crotch whilst his arm reached perfectly with the curve of your waist, your head slotted right under his head to rest against his chest whilst his arms encased you.

"Maybe you just fit perfectly around me," you smiled into the dark room, feeling him squeeze you tighter at your words.

"Did you have a good time tonight princess?" He asks quietly and you can sense a slight hint of vulnerability in his tone.

"The best Freddie," you answer honestly, "atleast, the fireworks were great." He immediately grabs you and begins tickling your ribs as you fight back, squirming and struggling to hold in your squeals at the horrendous sensation.

"Oh I see how it is, I give you some of my best work and all she remembers is the bloody pyrotechnics," he says dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes.

"It was perfect Fred, every bit," you say quietly, no longer playing around. You twist slightly in his arms to seek out his lips, placing a kiss of sheer gratitude on him.

"This is really nice," Fred says after a few moments of comfortable silence. You hum in agreement, enjoying the peace and the feeling of his arms securely wrapped around you. "One day we'll be able to do this every night," he says, sounding as if he's narrating his thoughts. "When school is over and me and George have opened the shop, you can move in with us and every single night I'll kiss you goodnight and hold you until you fall asleep."

"That sounds perfect," you say with a yawn, feeling as if you could fall asleep within mere seconds.

"And every morning I'll bring you a cup of tea in bed and kiss you before I leave for work," he adds, clearly daydreaming though he sounds increasingly more tired with each word. "You can help me pick out my tie, checking that it matches with my suit. Did I tell you me and George decided we'd wear full suits at the shop? Like real businessmen. Anyway, you'd pick out my tie and straighten it for me before I leave because you know I always leave it wonky."

He tiredly mumbles out more of his dreams and secrets to you in the still, dark room but you don't hear them, having fallen sound asleep, comforted by the sound of his voice as it acts like your own personal lullaby.

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #george weasley smut

[teyamsatan]

So It Goes... | Jake Sully x Reader

Summary: You meet Jake Sully at a party thrown by your dad for his military friends, and your life is forever changed as a result.

Pairings: Jake Sully x Human!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings/notes: just pure filth (18+, Minors DNI).

A/N: I had a dream about Jake Sully last night and this is the result, hahahah. I might turn this into a series if people like it x

You did a number on me But honestly, baby, who's counting?

You don’t know how you found yourself in this scenario again, getting fucked dumb by a man you swore you were done with just a couple hours before. 

The noises coming out of your mouth were unholy, much like the way he was thrusting into you so hard, so deeply it was making you see stars. Over and over. Over and over.

“You like that, don’t you? You’re such a fucking slut for my cock.” 

You were, you always have been, ever since you first laid your eyes on Jake Sully, you were his. 

It was one of the nights your dad organised a get-together for his friends and colleagues, all military men, all 10 feet tall and so fucking hot and muscular, so forbidden, you were dripping in cum just at the thought of one of them drilling into you. 

You put on some nice clothes for the occasion, your dad stressing the importance of this evening to you several times. A little black dress, hugging all of your curves in the best way, some black pumps and a simple necklace with a pearl pendant. Your long hair was flowing softly down your back, covering some of the bare skin on display. You were wearing natural makeup, except for the lips, painted red, your favourite colour. You made your way downstairs to the living room, where you could hear soft chattering from outside the door, and with a deep breath and a glass of champagne in your hands, you walked in. 

You felt eyes on you as you moved towards your father, who was animatedly chatting to some of his colleagues. He smiled fondly at the sight of you, his only daughter, the jewel in the crown of his endless accomplishments. 

“There she is. The best thing I have ever done.” 

“I don’t know, dad, that car you built from scratch is pretty up there, if you ask me. I pale in comparison.” 

All the men around him laughed, and you knew you have done your part for this particular dinner. You came in, you looked pretty and presentable, you made people laugh, all in the span of a few minutes. You were getting good at this. 

You made the rounds, saying hello to all the people you have grown up seeing, knowing, making small talk with. They were nice men, most of them, and you felt comfortable in this situation, surrounded by them, knowing that you were safe in this house, in this life, that if anything were to ever happen to you, you have about 30 trained, powerful soldiers in your phone that would fuck up whoever wanted to mess with you. 

Eventually, you reached a smaller group that was chatting softly, and your eyes immediately glued to one man, that you haven’t seen before. A little taller than the rest, you were barely reaching his ribs even in 5 inch heels, and your knees went weak taking him all in. He was gorgeous, the most gorgeous man you have ever seen; younger - younger than most people here, although that still made him probably twice your age. His hair was shoulder length and braided in small braids, one rogue braid in front of his face, and you felt the sudden urge to touch it, and then his face, his chest, his - 

“So good to see you, kid. How is everything going?” 

“Good, Frank. How about you? How’s the family? I heard Emily got into her dream University, that’s a big accomplishment!”

You felt eyes on you - you felt his eyes on you. There was heat everywhere in your body where his gaze fell, and you felt yourself cowering a little under its intensity. You couldn’t give less of a fuck about Emily and her upcoming trip, not when you were worried all of them will see a line of your arousal dripping down your leg with how wet you were for this man who is yet to speak a word in your direction. 

“Have you met Jake? He’s a new transfer, best of us all if you ask me.” 

You forced yourself to look up at him, and your lips parted with a small gasp when you saw how he was eyeing you. Like you were prey, like a meal he was dying to eat up. Fuck. 

His hand was stretched out in front of you, expectantly, and you took it, shaking it once. He lingered, not letting you go for just a second longer - not long enough to be suspicious, but long enough that you noticed, that it mattered. There was ache in between your legs now, cunt throbbing painfully and desperate for attention. You have never reacted in this way, never had such a visceral reaction to anyone else you have ever met before. The way he was making you feel was so primal, so raw, you were panting in need and you knew then you had to have this man. Whatever it took, you had to have this man fuck you til you passed out. 

“I thought they were all exaggerating when speaking of your beauty, but I now see it was an understatement. It’s nice to meet you…?” 

“Y/N.” 

His head tilted slightly to the sight, and with a small smirk, he said. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m sure I will see you again sometime.” The way your name rolled off his tongue drove you mad. You needed to excuse yourself. Now.

You hurried to your bedroom on the upper floor of the house and closed the door. You didn’t even have it in you to remove your dress, the agony too much, too palpable to allow for such frivolous, pointless distractions. You pulled your lace panties down your legs and threw them carelessly to the side, and reached in your nightstand for your best friend in these kinds of circumstances. You lay on your back in your large, king-size bed and spread your legs, your fingers quickly finding your folds, that were so wet there was a small pool forming on the sheets, and you haven’t even started. You moaned at the contact, so turned on that you knew it was going to take very little to make you cum so hard your legs would be shaking. When you were ready, you directed the vibrator to the entrance of your pussy, sliding it in slowly, feeling every inch. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped, and you couldn’t help the image of the man you just met that was plaguing your mind, driving you to your release faster. 

“Jake...” you moaned his name, trying to will him into existence, into you. 

You came violently, legs shaking and feet curling, panting loudly at the powerful orgasm that enveloped you. It was the best orgasm you have had in a long time - that’s what this man was doing to you - just his image, just the thought of him. 

“Well, I was going to at least buy you dinner first before I expected to see you cum moaning my name, but I'm definitely not complaining.” 

Your eyes shot open and your body upright, vibrator still deep inside of you, and you were shocked to see him, just standing there, just looking at you, same smirk plastered on his face as earlier. Even with a clearer mind, you were still perplexed at his beauty, at his magnetic force just pulling you towards him and you found yourself forgetting about the horrendous situation you were currently in just to admire him a little longer. 

“You like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow, smiling crudely at your fucked out form and your curious eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to check in on you. You seemed… a little flustered at the party, and I was afraid you might be sick. I wouldn’t want you to get sick on my watch, that would be against my duty as your father's friend and colleague.” 

He closed the door swiftly behind him, and made his away towards the bed. Towards you. 

You recoiled, removing the vibrator quickly and pushing your knees together, bringing them to your chest. 

“What do you think you are doing?” 

“I told you, I just want to make sure you are ok.” 

You wanted to tell him to go, but you couldn’t find your voice - not when he was stalking towards you the way he was, a hungry look in his eyes, not when you wanted him to devour you whole. 

He placed his knee on the bed and gently grabbed both your ankles in one hand, pulling you towards him so easily, like you were a tiny doll. You were startled at his actions, but curious to see what he was going to do to you, so you said nothing and waited. 

Once your feet reached the end of the bed, touching his knee, he spread your legs apart, and took you in, his mouth parted to accommodate for the deeper breaths he was taking looking at you. 

“Look at this. All of this for me?” He trailed his hand up your leg and you shuddered at the contact, at the feel of his rough hands on your body, sending pulses of electrical current up and down your entire being. You felt yourself becoming wet yet again, and the anticipation rising in your stomach was making you dizzy. You closed your eyes and let yourself feel him, feel his touch, feel the way his hands reached your folds and tentatively stroked them, removing the slick liquid with two fingers and watching as it dragged when he touched them together and pulled them apart.

Your back was arched now, eyes tightly shut, silently pleading for more, for anything to help you release some of the tension in your lower abdomen. 

“From the moment I saw you walking in that room, tight dress and those lips, those fucking lips, my cock got so hard I thought they would all be able to see, see what you did to me. I could smell you, smell your dripping cunt, and I knew you needed a good fucking, I knew you wanted it as much as I did. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” 

You moaned at his words, so hot, so wrong, you almost came just hearing them. He pushes two fingers in your damp pussy, and the groan he releases when he feels you nearly sets you off, and you buck your hips wildly on his fingers. He pulls them out just as quickly, and when your eyes found his, he had a serious, dangerous expression on his face, which made you gulp audibly.

“I asked you a question.” 

“Yes, yes...” you say panting, “that’s right.”

He pushes his fingers back in, starting a slow, torturous pace that drives you fucking crazy. “That’s right, what?” 

“That’s right…sir.” 

“Good girl.” He quickened his pace, not stopping until your undoing, which made your entire body convulse uncontrollably, cumming all over his long fingers. 

“Fuck, you are so hot. God, I will ruin you, girl. And you will let me, you will beg me to.” 

You knew then he was right. This man will ruin you, and you will watch, unable to do anything about it, but pray that when he’s done, there’s still something left of you to go on. 

#༊*·˚ andra's works #◘ andra's oneshots/drabbles #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully fic #dilf jake sully #avatar smut #jake sully angst #avatar twow #avatar #avatar fanfic #jake x reader #jake smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x yn #jake sully reader #avatar reader

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

For Richer or Poorer

Part 5 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Smut (18+), toxic relationships, office sex, mentions of consensual somnophilia, pictures taken during somnophilic acts (also consensual), cheating accusations, attempts at humiliation, masturbation, talks of Billy's past attempted assault, mentions of murder, cunilingus, a sprinkle of sub!Billy.

This is completely dedicated to my love, @idaofinfinity who celebrated her birthday this weekend. Happy birthday baby, I'm so glad I met you ❤❤

Photo credits

It's been a month since you started working at Anvil, you've been learning the history of the company's charity donations in that time, and brushing up on the ethics of each organisation.

You share the same office with Billy, at the far end of the room where you sit at your desk and work quietly each day. When you need to make calls, or take meetings, you do it in the adjoining conference room, making sure to work around Billy's meetings.

Sometimes, you catch him staring at you when he's talking quietly on the phone, or deep in thought, and you grow accustomed to him zoning out in your direction.

You haven't seen much of Dominic, your schedule being very flexible. Which meant that you usually come in late, and then leave with Billy long after he's gone.

And you don't want to admit it, not to yourself, and definitely not to the man that coerced you into marriage, but you kind of maybe like it here.

It's a big responsibility though, and you know things will get harder as time progresses, but sometimes you look over at Billy, answering calls and sending emails, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you.

Once a week though, he's a magnificent force to be reckoned with.

You remember the first time you saw him in tactical gear, and you had to fight the urge to jump him in the office, on his desk.

It had become a silent fantasy, once a week, he'd go down to the training floor to help run tactical simulations, and observe the skill of his men.

You'd never seen him fight, but you could imagine it, and the imagery ruined your panties constantly.

You think about it a lot. The insanity of your situation, a month ago you were crying in your bathtub after being aggressively dumped.

Now? You're sitting in Anvil's rooftop restaurant looking out at the New York skyline during lunch.

You were wondering when would be a good time to tell your family and friends. Maybe you could downplay it, say you wanted something private. You knew your mother would take it like her own personal insult, acting as if you'd done it because you secretly hated her.

But maybe your friends would make a more reasonable focus group, there was a message from the group chat asking to hang out later this week sitting in your phone, and maybe, their reactions would help with your family's.

Maybe you could introduce him as you boyfriend? Would you hurt his feelings? Should you care about his feelings? You really didn't want any more people silently accusing you of marrying him for his money. Especially when you couldn't even remember the wedding.

You had more questions for Billy, things you were honestly afraid of knowing. Why you? Did he pick you on random? An easy target? Or did he scout you thoroughly before entrapping you in holy matrimony?

You didn't know which scenario was worse.

And what about the rings? You look down at the unique design sitting on your finger.

You remember the night you showed Dominic. He'd gone home after a night of drinking with his friends, and he'd just started telling you the sweetest things. It had made you giggle at the time. Explaining to you that he thought you might be it for him, and that he'd want you forever. In a quick moment, as a little laugh, you'd shown him the rings, telling him that you'd love to wear these if he'd ever- whenever he decided-

How could Billy have known?

Unless he'd been tapping Dominic's phone. Or maybe, by a long shot, Nic had shown him?

You blink.

Scarier thoughts.

You were a little afraid to act against Billy, like really act against him. You didn't know what he was capable of.

But surely, by marrying you, he'd given you the resources and opportunity to be capable of things that could match him?

Something to look into.

If you wanted.

That's what you think you should want... under the circumstances... but what did you really want?

You wanted your heart to stop pounding when you finally returned to his office to find him working quietly, after being in a meeting through most of lunch.

"Did you have lunch?" You ask, looking at him carefully.

He glances up, and you can kind of see the masked frustration in his eyes.

"Not yet, baby, it's okay, I'll manage."

You make a hum of dissatisfaction, moving up to him to lean against his desk.

"Mister Russo," you chide, and you watch him resist the smile as he looks up at you, he looks so boyishly innocent and your hand cups his chin gently, tilting his head higher so that you can place a gentle kiss on his soft lips.

Surely you had to be some type of lucky? To be able to kiss this man freely whenever you wanted? This couldn't be wrong.

"If you get something to eat soon, I'll sleep naked next to you tonight."

His eyelids droop, pleased at the thought.

"I'll have my secretary bring something up in a minute then."

You smile, a kiss to the nose.

"Good boy." You whisper.

A small sound of pleasure leaves his chest that you pay no mind to, completely missing the way his eyes widen in shock as you walk away from him.

There's a file on your desk, and you hum curiously, sitting down comfortably before flipping it open- and then immediately flipping it shut, eyes widening in shock.

Blood rushes to your head as you look up at Billy, whose eyes are already on you, a pleased look on his face, his deviousness shining through.

Your mouth opens to say something to him, but no words come out.

You're interrupted by his phone ringing, and he keeps his eyes on you as he picks up the device and greets the person on the other end with his last name.

He's temporarily distracted, and you grab the edge of the manilla folder and open it slowly.

There are.... pictures of you.

You remember suggesting it to him, asking for him to take pictures of you but you'd never expected that he would.

Which was honestly your fault because of course he would.

What did you expect? When he was fully sheathed in your sleeping body- that he wouldn't lean back a little to take a shot of the way you look stretched around him?

Where did he even get a polaroid camera from? How did you not wake up from the flash?

Another picture, your hand wrapped around his cock, his hand covering yours, you can see the peek of your breasts through your sleep shirt. The tip of his cock is slick and shiny with precum and your mouth waters for a taste. You think about the ways he must have touched you- used you while you were asleep in his bed.

You flip again, two of his obscenely large fingers are pressed into your mouth to the second knuckle. It's like you can still feel them, pressing against your tongue even though you weren't conscious when he took the photo. The images alone are able to elicit that much of a reaction from you.

The last picture is a shot between your legs, spread open wide to show off your most intimate parts, dripping an abundance of his come.

You swallow, body tingling and flick your eyes up to meet his.

He's still got the phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes are fixed on you, warm and inviting and melts every thought from your head in a sizzling sweep.

All you feel is desire, the need is so tangible inside you that you're not sure if you can do anything else but follow the feeling.

You stand, grabbing the folder, and moving to sit on the couch on the far end of the room, directly opposite to him.

You feel devious, and also maybe a little bit curious about how he'll react to what you're going to do next.

You avoid his gaze, casually opening the folder and leaning back a little. You prop your arm on the side of the couch so that the folder blocks your face from view. You study the pictures for a long time, listening to his clipped responses as he talks on the phone. It's a bunch of 'yes' and 'no's' followed up with dates and times for various things. His voice stutters when you spread your thighs, moving your free hand over your skin casually, as if there's no one looking at you.

You push it further, tugging your skirt up, spreading your legs wider so that you can press your fingers to the damp fabric between your thighs.

You hiss as your body gets some much needed pleasure, your eyes skimming over the pictures, using them as fuel to carry out your little show.

You want to sneak a peek at him, look at his face- Is he looking at you? Is he touching himself? But you know one look into those domineering, dark eyes and you'll be on your knees crawling to him.

So instead, you meander your fingers lower, pushing under the fabric of your panties, to touch your bare clit.

You hum, your body relaxing as your fingers dip lower, catching some wetness from your entrance and drawing it up to your clit to reduce friction.

You moan, your head falling back as you touch that spot just right, arching your back when you speed up and relaxing when you slow down.

The folder drops from your face, but your head is tossed back so that you can't see him, your eyes closed as one of your fingers tease your entrance, pushing in to the first knuckle.

You breathe his name, thinking about the ways he's pleasured you, about the way he looks at you and smiles at you and kisses you-

When there's a knock at the door, you raise your head in a panic, pulling your skirt down in a rush, making sure the folder is closed.

Your eyes meet his naturally. He looks calm outwardly, but there's a tenseness to him. His jaw is clenched, his breathing is sharp. One of his fists is curled tightly, resting atop his desk.

His eyes send a shiver over you, warm and inviting and you feel yourself get wetter in response.

"Come in." He calls, and his secretary pokes her head in.

"Hey Mr. Russo, Mrs. Russo," she greets, "I got that lunch you asked for."

"Great, here, put it on my desk." He says, and you watch her move easily to place the small box on his desk.

"I heard there's a small weather system moving in tonight, you guys be safe." She says.

You wish her the same with a smile as she leaves.

Your eyes are on each other in the next moment, his are heated and daring, challenging you to do something else.

You take his challenge, reaching up to unbutton your blouse.

The door's not even locked, but who would dare to enter Billy's office without knocking?

Your blouse is open in the next second, and you reach up your skirt to tug your panties down your legs.

God you just want him so badly, you couldn't stop thinking about him, you probably shouldn't be feeling this way, but you didn't care. You just wanted to have him, and hold him, and keep him just as much as he keeps you.

You wanted to own Billy Russo.

Your fingers are in your mouth in the next second, teasing him, getting them wet and spreading your thighs to resume your play.

It's hot, having him sit at his desk and watch you, you bet he's just rock hard and desperate for a touch of you. The lunch on his desk sits untouched at the edge, as your body fights the magnetic pull it has to his.

Your other hand, free from the folder, tugs one of the cups of your bra down, fingers worrying your nipple into a stiff bud, gasping as you push a single digit into yourself.

It's an empty feeling, of not being full enough, your entrance clenching around your finger, begging for more, begging for a Billy sized intrusion into your body.

You keep going, with no protest from him, pushing a second finger into yourself and pumping slowly.

Your body responds easily, the photos, paired with the right flush of arousal and you're gasping desperately, pushing yourself into the throes of pleasure.

It's so much easier, knowing your body, knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use, your back arches and you come with a stuttered cry.

The pleasure blooms in your head, and you let out another little groan, your fingers still buried inside of you, riding out the orgasm.

When you hear the sound of a belt being undone a lot closer that you expect, you raise your head, your fingers slipping out.

He's a few steps away, dark eyes fixed on you, his belt undone and jingling with each step he makes.

"Getting yourself nice and ready for me, hmm?" He asks, undoing his pants, reaching into his boxers to pull his cock free.

You watch with open mouth as he sits beside you, reaching to grab your hips and pull your body to his.

"Put your fingers in my mouth." He says, and you oblige silently.

His mouth seals around your fingers just as he pulls you onto his cock, his tip stretching you open easily.

You both groan in unison.

The way he fills every inch of you, has you gasping, eyes rolling back from the very pleasure of it.

He's so deep inside you, it almost feels like he's deeper that he really is- you can almost feel him in your gut.

He sucks on your fingers as he begins to fuck you. He pulls and pushes your body, guiding you into riding him as an even pace.

You don't think too much of it when you push your fingers deeper into his mouth, pressing down on the back of his tongue for a moment.

He gags a little, and you give him a small smile, tugging your fingers out of his mouth slowly. His pace increases, your hips slamming forcefully together, small grunts leaving your lips.

"Did you enjoy that? Putting on a little show for me?" He asks between breaths. You mewl, unable to respond as you try to roll your hips on top of his.

"I know you did- God you're so fucking wet for me- how the fuck do I get any work done when I have you so close?"

You let out a little giggle, circling your hips and hearing him grunt in approval.

His fingers sift into your hair, pulling you forward and you sigh blissfully as your mouth meets his. He doesn't stop there, tugging your hair free until it's loose around your face.

You pull back, smiling curiously at him as he pets his hands slowly down the back of your head.

"Every inch of skin that isn't touching mine is criminal." Billy murmurs, pulling you close until your foreheads touch.

You sigh into his mouth, little puffs of air as he bottoms out inside you.

You pick up the pace, and he groans in approval, his hands firm on your hips as you gasp every time he bottoms out inside of you.

He's so deliciously big, and you know you think about it every time he's inside you yet you can't help it. Billy just pleases you in a way no one else ever could. The chemistry between you two is potent, the attraction is too strong to fight. You ache to crawl under his skin and live in the space between his lungs if he'd only let you.

"Gonna cum." You warn, swallowing his grunts eagerly.

He groans, his forearms pull you to his body tightly, his lips pressed to yours.

"On my cock, just like we practiced." He encourages and the words go right down your spine.

There's a loud roaring in your head, a warning that this orgasm is going to knock you flat.

You tighten around his cock, and he feels so much bigger, definitely making a space inside of you that was only his.

Your fingers fist the material of his jacket harshly, the other hand gripping his shoulder for dear life as you both chase your swift approaching highs.

Logically, you know this can't be love. You barely remember consenting to the marriage in the first place- and Billy had taken so many things away from you already.

So why do the words 'I love you' threaten to spill from your mouth as you reached your peak?

Thankfully, Billy's cock renders you speechless, your mouth opening wider, your back arching to press your body even closer into him as you cum. The world comes to a pause as your body tenses, before you shake with your release. Through it all, he doesn't stop, and the next thing you know, you're on your back, with six-feet of solid husband pressing into you.

This position gives him all the control, and his thrusts get that much harsher.

"So fucking beautiful when you cum, baby." Billy grunts into your neck.

"So pretty when you take from me.... Gonna fill you up now, just like you deserve."

You can only let out an unintelligent sound of approval. The give and take of your bodies transcend the barriers of your skin until you can feel him, everywhere, all at once and you know with indisputable fact, that Billy Russo belongs to you.

You say his name, because it's all you can remember after he's stripped your barriers bare and opened you up to him with wanton fingers and desperate eyes.

Your orgasm is sweet in your mouth, tacky and slippery under your skin, and sticky where your bodies meet. He groans against your mouth when he feels it and your body can't contain the pleasure, so you tilt your head back and you scream.

It's cathartic.

Like the lid being lifted off a pot that's been building pressure, and you scream in bliss as he guides your body through release.

"Good girl." He pants, "Good wife- oh fuck I'm gonna-"

And then he's groaning primally, barely contained, his hands in clenched fists beside your head as he comes deep inside you, his body shuddering for just a second when you clench around him to help him empty all of his cum into you.

It feels like a gift, that you accept greedily, always eager to keep his cum safe inside of you, silently thinking about the possibility of it taking.

You wonder if he wants kids. You wonder if you do. You sigh when he drags his softening cock out of you, reaching for an embroidered handkerchief in his pocket, using the silky material to clean up whatever slips out of you.

"You're perfect, y'know that?" He says to you softly, and you swallow nervously.

It wasn't something you were used to hearing, especially not after sex, when he'd already gotten what he wanted from you. Before sex? Sure. During? Maybe.

Billy had been the first person to praise you after the act. After. When he was already sated and there wasn't any reason to.

"Really?" You ask softly, and he looks up at you from his gentle clean up. Another thing he wouldn't let you do. Always insistent that he cleans you up.

"Really." He says with a firm voice, "You're perfect, and you're gorgeous and you're mine."

For the first time, those words don't scare you.

You can feel easy acceptance of the words. They're true, and you want them to be.

"I'm yours." You confirm to him softly, and the rest of words are unspoken, but you think them to yourself.

Are you mine?

His lips are soft on yours, insistent.

"Did I hurt you at all, baby?" He asks quietly into the space between your lips.

You look up at him, shaking your head easily. His hands cup your face and you close your eyes as he leans in to give the top of your head a kiss.

"You know you can always tell me right?" He says.

"I know." You respond simply, because you really did know.

When his phone rings, he turns to look at it with an adorable frown on his face, looking back at you. You give him a little smile and a nod, telling him it's okay, before watching him move to pick it up.

After a few minutes, you finally build up the resolve to make your way on shaky legs to his bathroom and back. You don't even bother with your heels, leaving them kicked off on his office floor.

It doesn't take you long to fall asleep, though you don't really mean to, only wanting to close your eyes for a few moments, but suddenly you're asleep.

.

You wake when he tries to move you.

"Wha?" You mumble, sleepily, breathing a deep sigh when he guides you to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Time to go home, baby." Billy says, and your eyes close of their own accord.

You don't realise or register what he's doing until he's picking you up.

You let out a little sound of protest.

"'M too heavy." You say, still half asleep in his chest. Your eyelids are so heavy, and your brain is full of fog.

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when we get home."

You make another sound of protest, and you hear the elevator bell ding as it reaches your floor.

"You can put me down if you want. I can walk." You try again.

"Hush, sweetheart, relax, I've got you."

"You'll hurt yourself carrying me."

Billy chuckles.

"I won't. I've carried marines heavier than you on my back in the desert for miles."

You feel his lips on your forehead, "I can carry my pretty wife for a couple of minutes."

You groan.

"But 'm too heavy." You try again.

"Who told you that, hmm?"

Dominic's face pops into your head and you sigh. Honestly, he'd never said it in so many words to you... but you knew... from the way he'd raise his eyebrows when he caught you with a piece of cake, or the way he'd get just a little too happy when you said you were going to the gym. You knew what he thought, even though he never had to say it.

"No one... it's just logic. I'm heavy."

"Well, if I can lift you, then you can't be that heavy now can you? So why don't you go back to sleep for me?" He murmurs softly, and though you try, you can't fight it.

.

"I love seeing your tattoo." You murmur against him.

He chuckles, cupping a handful of warm water to trickle over your shoulder in an attempt to help you bathe.

The snake in question moves as he does, you smooth a hand over the ink of the open maw on his chest.

Like you'd noticed before, the body of the snake covers two raised scars on his shoulder. You're of the opinion that the snake covers those scars on purpose.

"Will you tell me how you got them?" You ask, tracing a thumb over the scars, feeling him take a shaky breath.

"Got beaten pretty bad when I was a kid." He says in a breath and your heart freezes in your chest. You can tell that there's something worse coming.

"I grew up in a group home, wasn't bad, could have been worse I guess, but they used to let people come around to help out sometimes."

He scoops some more water over your shoulder, deep in thought. You don't want to break his focus, eager to hear him open up about his childhood.

"There was this one guy, he used to play stickball with us. I thought he was the coolest. Told me I could go pro if I kept practicing."

A lump rises in your throat when you realise where this story is going.

"He- well he tried to- " Billy stops, takes a deep breath, shakes his head.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me." You say quietly, and he gives you a little smile.

"He called me pretty, he tried to touch me, I fought him off, he fought back, broke my arm... the end."

You frown at his quick retelling.

"So... he didn't-?"

"No... but I pissed him off enough."

"How old were you?"

"Ten?"

"Jesus, Billy." You press your head into the crook of his neck, your body against his in the bath, your heart breaking for him.

"He got away with it?"

"Our legal system is a joke."

Your shoulders drop.

"He's still out there?"

"No."

You raise your head curiously to look up at him.

He can't meet your eyes.

"I killed him." Billy confesses to you quietly, he's shaking, refusing to look at you.

It's a tense moment, and you don't think before you respond.

"Good."

He finally gives you a shocked look.

"You're not... disgusted?"

"That you killed someone who hurt you and probably other kids? Not at all."

"I murdered him, I put a stickball bat through his chest." Billy clarifies, in an attempt to show you how terrible he is. Or at least that's the impression you get.

"I hope he felt it." You say, resolved to idea.

Billy's eyes shift from shocked to something warm. He gives you another little smile.

"You mean that? You're not saying that now and running away later?"

The words are too much to say. You're afraid of them, of what it means. So instead, you raise your head, and you press your lips to his.

Soft, and the taste of his mouth sets you on fire. But you're content to just kiss him, chase away his insecurities with your reassurance. His hand moves from your hip to the back of your neck, holding you securely, little kisses broken between sighs and gentle smiles, until finally you relax against him once more.

"Is that why you got this here?" You ask, tracing his tattoo with gentle fingers.

Billy hums in confirmation.

"Snakes shed their skin all the time. They're symbols of transformation, rebirth... healing. They're misunderstood creatures, but can be deadly when underestimated."

Not unlike Billy himself, you think, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and you hope that he understands that you're not going to run, without having to say it.

.

"There's absolutely no way I am ever going to sleep with my employee." Abigail announces.

You swallow, listening to all the other girls react to her comment, butting in with 'what ifs' and other scenarios. You look down and stir your drink as you take it in.

You'd been friends with the witty group of girls since you shared a living space with them in college. There was Milla and Katie and Bryn, of course Abigail and you, made five.

Milla was dating Dominic's best friend, and it was in part one of the reasons you'd decided to come today, to find out if Nic had said anything to them. Billy hadn't accompanied you having some extra work to do, but he'd sent you with two bodyguards that had initially started out as five.

You kind of missed him, wondering what he was doing right now, and you imagined him typing away at his laptop at home, or reading a business report with a pair of glasses that he claimed to not need but it made him see the fine print just a little easier.

Loud laughter gets your attention and you smile, looking up. You wait for a casual break in the conversation to speak.

"So, I actually have some news." You say to them, and you freeze when all eyes swivel to you.

Oh shit, this was a lot.

"Yeah?" Bryn encourages when you've been silent for too long.

"I kind of did something... maybe a little stupid, but I'm kinda okay with it." You say, knowing that you were more than okay with it.

There's more silence as they wait for you to continue. At this point you were hoping for an interruption.

"After Dominic and I broke up... I went to Vegas, and I got drunk one night and uh...." You make an odd sound of distress, "I got married."

There's a moment of stunned silence, before everyone reacts all at once, above it all you hear Abigail's voice loudest.

"You got what!?" She screams.

You can't help laughing at their reactions.

"I kind of can't remember how it happened? But I woke up married." You say raising your hand to show then the ring.

"Oh my god I thought that was just a random ring- You're telling me that's a wedding ring?" Bryn says with a hysterical inflection in her voice.

You smile, nodding along at their reactions.

"You're getting it annulled?" Milla asks, and when you focus on her, you notice her features are calm, not as shocked as the others, and you think she might have known before.

"I'm not. I like him, he's nice, and we're... living together." You say just as Abigail takes a sip of her drink and she has to fight with spitting it out.

"Living with him?!" She says after she manages to swallow, "Who is he?"

You blink, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on it for a moment.

"His name is Billy Russo.... He uhh... he's Anvil's CEO."

It gets so quiet you can hear the conversations happening in the table across from you.

"You married Dominic's boss?"

"Well... no.... his boss' boss' boss... if we're being technical."

"Is he hot?"

"Very."

"And you waited until now to tell us?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Wait." Abigail interrupts, "How did Dominic react when he found out?"

You fiddle with your fingers under the table.

"I didn't get a chance to explain it to him. He thinks I cheated on him."

"He does think that." Milla says, grabbing everyone's attention. Her face is stern, commanding, she looks as though she's about to stand up for a friend, and you're of the realisation that the friend is not you.

"Dominic said you cheated on him, that you must have, because the rings are custom made to you. How do you explain that?"

Oh fuck.

"I- I'm not too sure-"

"-And his boss? Out of everyone to 'accidentally' marry? How convenient is that?"

"N-no- it-"

"-Dom thinks he introduced you to his boss, and you just worked your way to the top. Isn't that why you convinced him to stay with Anvil all those years ago?"

"That's not true at all." You say, your voice shaking with the stress.

You look around at Bryn, Abigail and Katie, but they're all giving you curious looks.

"It's not? What do you think about that, Dominic?" Milla says, looking behind you.

Ambush.

It's the first word that comes to mind and honesty if you were a smarter person you would have seen it coming.

"I think it's really convenient that she quit her job and started working at Anvil almost as soon as we broke up." Dominic says, grabbing a chair and fitting himself into the space between you and Katie.

Your shoulders drop.

"I didn't." You say weakly, looking at Dominic with sad eyes, "I never cheated. I wouldn't. I really liked you, and you broke up with me."

"Well you got over me really fast, then, didn't you?"

You bottom lip wobbles. You can see it in their eyes that no one believes you.

"Was that the point of this?" You turn to look at Milla, "Was that the reason you guys invited me here today?"

"We just wanted to expose a cheater."

"I didn't!" You try again, and she rolls her eyes at you.

You realise that there's nothing you're going to say that will make them believe you. You realise that you've just lost your friends.

You grab your things, shoving them into your bag, standing.

"I'm leaving." You say, dropping some bills down on the table to cover your drinks in afterthought. Dominic stands when you do, blocking your path.

"No you're not, we didn't even bring out the cake yet. Here it comes now."

Your heart is stuck in your throat, glued there with something that hardens into cement and makes everything hurt.

The waitress brings out a cake. An actual cake with white frosting and red lettering.

The words 'Congratulations, Cheater,' stares back at you.

You didn't think Dominic had this level of spite inside of him.

You back away from the table, but you flinch when Dominic reaches out to grab your wrist tightly.

"Woah, hey, let her go." Abigail says, getting to her feet, "She can leave if she wants."

At the same time, one of Billy's bodyguards notices the little commotion and steps forward to intervene, pushing Dominic away from you.

You back away, you don't look at anyone, avoiding all eye contact as you leave.

.

.

He finds you curled up on the couch of your office with one of his old t-shirts gripped in your hands.

You must not have locked the door, because he'd never violate the boundaries of your office otherwise, even though you knew he could if he wanted to.

"This is all your fault." You whisper out loud, not turning to look at him, pressing your nose into his shirt and breathing in the remnants of his scent.

Your statement wasn't completely true. It wasn't all his fault. It was also Dominic's, for breaking up with you and thinking he was entitled to embarrass you that way when you hadn't done anything he'd accused you of.

"I am, so, so sorry this happened." He says earnestly behind you, and you curl in further on yourself.

"Everyone thinks I'm a bad person." You say, a couple of hot tears slip from your eyes and trickle down the side of your face. You swallow the painful lump in your throat. Your face was swollen and aching from all the crying you'd done in the hour it took Billy to get here from wherever he'd been before.

"You're not a bad person." Billy says with conviction in his tone, leaning forward to press his nose into your hair.

You huff.

"Only you think that." You say to him, using his shirt to dab some of your tears.

His sigh tickles the back of your neck. It's one of frustration, you figure he must be out of his depth with this one and can't figure out what to do.

"Okay... let's get cleaned up and ready for bed, and you'll be a lot more comfortable there. I can get us ice cream, or we can watch something dumb on TV."

"Billy." You say with a tone that said that you just wanted to be left alone.

"No, I'm not leaving you here to mope. Come." he says, gripping your hips and forcing your body to uncurl and turn to face him.

When you catch sight of him you sit up in shock.

His face is dirty, covered in dirt and a splash of blood. There's the beginning of a bruise on his chin and cheek and he looks rough for wear.

"What happened?" You ask in shock, reaching out to cup his jaw, you feel him press his face into the palm of your hand. He's dressed in his tactical wear, but it's all scuffed and dirty.

"I was in the middle of a training sim when I heard what happened. I might have sped things up by running solo into enemy territory." He murmurs, peeking an eye open to look at your reaction.

"Isn't strategy the point of those sims? Else what's the point?"

"The point was that my wife was in distress and I wanted to get to her."

You can't help the involuntary clench your body does at his words. A bad time to be feeling like you want to jump him but that's all you can think about right now.

The tactical gear looks good on him, it holds onto him securely as he kneels beside the couch you're on.

"You have blood on your face." You say.

"Sorry." He mumbles and you shake your head, reaching for a clean corner of his shirt and using it to wipe away the splashes of blood on his cheek.

"I guess a shower would be okay." You say between sniffles and he smiles.

"Okay. Let's go."

.

You're not feeling your best, but even sad, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of a dishevelled Billy, tugging his tactical shirt off. A white vest on underneath, his arms are covered in bruises, the back of his hands are bloody. You think you could moan from the sight alone.

He tugs a gun from the waistband of his pants, setting it down onto the bathroom countertop, before untucking his vest and pulling it off.

You thank the stars.

Rippling ink as he raises his arms above his head in an effort to stretch any kinks in his back. You blink in surprise when you hear a soft 'pop', followed by his groan of blissful satisfaction.

You stay silent, afraid to make a sound lest he stop the shedding of his clothes. Like a battered deity, he leans down to tug at the laces of his boots, kicking them off.

You want to help, you want to touch, to do something more than look, but you're fixated on him as if he's your favourite painting come to life.

You appreciate his beauty, still embedded in the depths of despair, you can only blink in surprise when he looks at you. For a moment, you'd forgotten you were real, but when he looks at you... he reminds you.

You don't hold his gaze for long, turning back to look at the shower, reaching to unbutton your pants.

It's only a means to avoid his gaze, because when he turns away from you to shed his pants, you turn back to look at him.

His thighs aren't thick, but shaped well for his body type, muscles flexing as he kicks them off.

You see his ass next, as his boxers follow down his legs, and your heart kicks up a beat as he turns confidently, doesn't say a word as he steps toward you.

He gives you a smile, opening the shower door and stepping in to turn on the controls.

You watch in awe as the rain showerhead starts up, scattering droplets down the planes of his body. The water runs a little red with blood, and a little brown from dirt before it clears.

When he looks back, you gulp.

"Coming?" He asks, and you reach for the edge of your top without a second thought.

.

.

Curled into him.

You let out a soft sigh of peace.

His hand is roaming over your back in slow circles. His skin is a little cold from your recent shower.

"Why me?" You finally say to him, your curiosity finally spilling out of your mouth. You think you're ready to hear the answer.

His hand pauses it's rhythmic motion on your back for a second, and only resume when you shift in discontent.

"Sure you wanna know?" He asks carefully.

"Yeah."

.

.

TWO YEARS AGO:

"There's really no vision here," Dominic says, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, guiding you away from the small office party happening on the top floor of the old Anvil Facility. It was more of a gym than a start-up company, catering to tactical training more than office jobs.

"You think so?" You say to him, wrinkling your nose as you wonder where Dominic was taking you. Were you going to see his desk?

"Yeah, this'll never work because we just don't have good enough contacts. Russo is a military man, he wasn't made for business." Nic says easily, and you hum, realising that you've wandered far enough from the party, your little lilac dress molded to your skin.

"I don't think that's true." You murmur to him, deep in thought, thinking about the man you'd just met.

"And what do you think you know about the company I work at?" Dominic says with a haughty tone and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes.

"I mean, the man you're describing, and the man I just met in there aren't the same person. You can see, that he clearly has the drive to succeed. I don't think you should give up on that. I mean sure, things aren't good now, but I think you'd benefit from sticking around so much more in the long run."

"Really?" He murmurs, and you can hear the indecisiveness in his voice and you know now's the best time to prove your point.

"A really basic example could just be the Christmas bonuses this year. He could have cut those in half safely and no one would have complained, he could have kept the money, or put it into getting word out through ads or whatever." You wave your hand in the air dismissively, "Instead he put it into the resource he found most important- the people. With a mindset like that, there's no way he'd struggle to get Anvil off the ground. You have to stop thinking in what's happening now, and think about what the company is capable of."

There's a moment of silence as he mulls over your words.

"That's a good point I guess, he also buys the best gear for the people on the field, instead of cheaping out."

You nod along to his words.

"Imagine the things the company is capable of. Don't you want to be a part of that?" You ask, deep in thought, just like he was, about the possibilities.

"Huh. Okay, I guess I'll stick around a little longer then." He says, kissing the top of your head and you laugh. Going with him wherever he wanted to go.

.

.

"I'd been just around the corner, stepped out to take a phone call or something and I heard you." His hand slides up your back and his fingers roll over the muscles at the behind your neck easily.

"You have no idea how that made me feel. It was like you knew me. Made me want to be a better man just to prove you right. You believed in me, and you'd barely met me."

You let out a long sigh, a hand on his bicep, moving up till you touch the tail of his snake tattoo.

"But, I'm sure a lot of people believe in you."

He laughs quietly.

"I think back then, everyone thought I was out of my depth, just waiting to watch me fuck up... and hearing you say those things was exactly what I needed. I wanted to become the man you thought I was capable of being."

The words shock you deeply, unwilling to admit that you could have such an effect on another person.

"So, you liked me since then?"

He hums.

"Not exactly then, when I got to learn about you more... yeah."

"How did you learn more about me?" You ask.

He's quiet for a moment. You raise your head to look up at him. He's got a pained frown on his face.

"I'm not a good man." He confesses to you quietly.

"I know, but you can tell me anyway." You reassure.

"I... cloned his phone, I'd read your messages to him."

You swallow anxiously.

"My private messages to my boyfriend." You clarify unnecessarily so that he gets the idea.

His eyes squeeze shut.

"Yeah, it wasn't a good moment, but I needed you so bad, and I knew he wasn't good enough, and I knew you'd realise that eventually, so I just sat back and waited. I didn't read every message, but once a week I'd check and make sure you were okay."

"Oh, Billy." You say with a sigh, leaning forward to press your body closer to his. He presses against you eagerly.

It's not something you hadn't already expected. In your assessment of possible scenarios, you knew someone as powerful as he was would find no trouble in getting access to things he shouldn't have access to.

You didn't know what the right way to react was. You knew it was a red flag, a borderline scary and toxic trait exhibited by a man that had coerced you into marriage. But you also knew him. For all his flaws he'd never lied to you.

"Why don't you hate me?" He whispers under his breath, and you don't think he meant to say it out loud.

You respond anyway, not because you want to reassure him, but because you feel like returning his truth with some of your own.

"I don't want to." You say simply.

He pulls you even closer, your face pressed into his shoulder as he holds you tight. You spend a long time like that, locked in his arms, half asleep.

When he tilts your head up to give you what you assume is a chaste goodnight kiss, you find that your body heats up, instead of relaxing.

Your toes curl as you slant your lips against his, unable to stop yourself from delivering passionate kisses. He lets out a little groan, hand smoothing down your body easily and back up again. You sit up, pushing him onto his back before kicking a leg over his hips.

It's only then that you break the kiss.

"Are you sure?" He asks, before you can voice a similar question to him.

"I want to. Do you?"

He studies you for a moment, dark eyes, deep in thought.

"Yeah." He says with a nod, you smile, mimicking his nod as you bend to reach his mouth again.

He's hard between your thighs, hot and insistent against the little fabric of your underwear.

When he brings his hands up to your hips, you react without thinking, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to either side of his head.

He blinks up at you in surprise.

He can obviously overpower you at any moment, but instead he pauses to see what you're going to do.

"Do you trust me?" You ask quietly.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, in deep concentration, before giving you a little nod.

"Close your eyes." You instruct, and he does so after a little moment.

When you pull away from him, he sits up.

"Where-"

"-shhhh, trust me." You interrupt, and you leave the room for a minute to gather supplies.

You grab all the little candles you can find, placing them around the room and lighting them one by one.

You have a odd want to make this one special, and you take your time, shedding your clothes and grabbing one of his white shirts from his closet, draping it over your body and leaving a small gap open between your breasts.

You dim all the lights, admiring the way he waits patiently, the only sign of his anxiety is the way his fingers twitch at his sides.

He definitely had a reason to be anxious. He'd put a lot of trust into you by closing his eyes. After the scary revelation from earlier, you could bet he was probably expecting you to run away.

"Take your boxers off for me." You finally say, and he lets out a breath, pushing the black fabric off his body.

Gorgeous.

Every inch of him.

His knuckles are still red from their earlier use, and he's got some bruises worsening on his chest and one on his thigh but none of it takes away from him. The light of the candles dances shadows onto his skin and you marvel at how easy his beauty can make you forget about everything else.

You admire the snake on his shoulder, with its winding visage, before giving him permission to open his eyes.

You're hoping you look just as breathtaking as he does, wearing his shirt in the light of the flickering candles, you really pray that he finds you nice to look at.

His lips part, taking you in, you can't help looking away from him for a second.

"You are... so beautiful." He says, voice barely above a whisper, and your heats flutters, a shy smile forming on your face.

"Thank you." You say, moving toward him, bringing yourself to sit carefully on his lap. When he raises his hands to touch you, you catch them, pressing them back to his sides.

You lean forward, and when he shuts his eyes, thinking you're going to kiss him, you deflect, kissing his shoulder instead. You kiss from one shoulder to the next, listening to his shallow breathing, bringing your hips closer until his cock is nestled between your thighs.

"You're tormenting me." He says matter-of-factly, and you smile against the column of his neck.

"And don't you think you deserve it, even just a little?"

An exasperated sigh.

"I deserve it," Billy acknowledges, "Is that what you're gonna do now? Punish me?"

You feel the way his cock jumps after he says it, you know he likes the idea.

"Mmm," you hum, continuing to kiss his neck, "I like the idea, but I've never done it before."

"That's okay, just do what you feel like, if you feel like stopping, I'll take over."

"How considerate." You say, just before you bite down on his sweet spot.

He lets out a loud groan, his body tensing, before it relaxes. You lick the bite gently to soothe it.

"Too much?" You ask carefully.

"More. Please."

Your breath stutters in your throat. You feel your body flush with approval for his words.

There's a spot that clenches inside you- right below your navel- a spot that flutters when you think about being filled with his come.

You bite him again, toes curling in response to the blissful sounds he makes.

You watch his skin redden, you know they'll fade after a while, but you can't help admiring the beauty of marking him.

You want his tongue, but you're too shy to actually say it, instead, opting to climb off of him, ignoring his sounds of protest to make your way up the bed to settle against the pillows.

He turns to look at you, his shirt widening to expose your breasts.

Carefully, you part your thighs and watch his throat bob as his eyes drift down to your aching cunt.

You reach to slip a finger between your legs and he moves without command, settling his body between your thighs, stopping your hand from touching yourself.

"I'll do it." He offers, kissing the wedding band on your finger, before adjusting himself to flatten his tongue against your clit.

You let out a gasp of surprise, your head falling back in bliss.

He keeps his tongue in place for a few moments, prompting you to raise your head and look at him.

His eyes are on you, as he begins sweeping his tongue from side to side slowly. It feels so good, as Billy sets the perfect rhythm in the place you need it most.

Your pussy makes a series of clenches, desperate for more of his tongue, and a shiver goes through you as he continues.

He reaches up, warm hands gliding over your thighs, bruised knuckles gripping at your hips for a moment before grabbing your hands that are fisted in the sheets and bringing them to sift through his hair.

He groans when you pull, pressing deeper into the space between your thighs until there's no air left between his mouth and your pussy. The tip of his tongue rolls over your clit, up and down, and then side to side, until he finally settles on a slow circular motion.

Your hips buck into his mouth, you press his head as close as possible for a moment before feeling a little guilty and releasing your grip on his head.

"Sorry." You murmur, which prompts him to stop, shaking his head as he speaks.

"Don't be. I love your little cunt so fucking much." He praises.

You make a sound of approval as he drops his head again.

He licks you repeatedly, his tongue applying just the right pressure to your clit that makes you boneless. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to process the undeniable pleasure rolling through your body. His beard scratches harmlessly between your thighs, your skin tingling from the gentle sensation that only helps to work you up.

The sounds are sloppy and wet, the eagerness of his movements make you want to own him in any way you can.

"Billy oh god yes." You cry, can't stop yourself from singing his praises.

He moans against you, you can feel his tongue drift lower to lick over your entrance.

You gasp at the sensation, wanting to feel his tongue explore you.

He pushes his tongue in as far as it will go, no doubt getting the most undiluted taste of you, humming while he does it.

His tongue is dextrous, just like it always is, with passionate movements that show you his eagerness. To drink you in like a man starving, to make you feel like his current position was the most desirable on the planet.

His grips on your hips tighten, and when it's not enough you can feel him press his face even closer. You worry he might be drowning in you. But he doesn't seem too concerned about it.

You say his name again. It only encourages him to take what he likes from you until your thighs are shaking and your clit is begging for just one more kiss.

Your brain scrambles when he does it. You make the most unintelligent sound as your body tenses up, locking in place for just a moment right before you fall over that edge and into him.

That spot below your navel flutters again, begging for him as he pulls away from you.

You're still catching your breath, his shirt is warm on your skin and you sit up to push it from your shoulders.

You grab his arm, pulling him over to you and lying back until his body covers yours. Your grip is firm on the back of his neck as you guide his mouth to yours.

You both moan into the kiss, starting slowly before the build of emotion is just too much for you to resist kissing him hard.

He kisses over your jaw and neck, giving you a moment to breathe before his lips are on your again.

He slots his thigh between your legs and you press your dripping centre against it shamelessly, happy to feel some relief.

You know you should wait a little longer and get more prep work done but you can't. You can't fight the fire burning inside you to take him.

He falls onto his back easily when you break the kiss to give him a hard shove.

He smiles, gripping your hips as you straddle him.

"If this is a punishment then I should do bad things more often," Billy teases.

You playfully smack his hip and he lets out a groan. You watch his face redden substantially and he looks away from you for a second.

Does he like it when you hit him?

You table the conversation for later as you adjust your hips and reach for his erection.

Sliding onto his cock isn't easy, and you have to take several deep breaths throughout, groaning at the little pinch of pain, as he fills every inch of you.

"So good Billy, fuck." You sigh, he nods mindlessly in agreement.

You start slow, rocking your hips against his, his hands on your hips grip so tightly that he leaves and indent of his ring behind on your skin- as if you needed another reminder that you're his.

You hiss, increasing the pace of your rocking, the muscles in your thighs burn from overuse.

You remember how he told you that he liked it when you ride him, and you decide to make things more difficult for him.

You grab his wrists, pinning them beside him as you lean down to kiss him.

Billy gasps, his breath his hot in your mouth and when you pause your hips to catch your breath, he groans loudly.

"Hit me." He asks quietly, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You- Are you sure?" You ask easily.

He swallows, nodding, and when you give him a gentle tap on the cheek, his laugh is filled with delirium.

"No baby, harder."

You bite down on your lip, doing as he says.

He groans, pushing his hips up into you. You gasp in surprise, feeling him fuck into you easily from below, your hips moving together in harmony.

"Hit me again, please." He begs and you can't resist him.

It's a proper slap, and his face gets turned to the side. His cheek is red but all he can do is groan loudly and fuck upwards into you.

You're a little surprised at his reaction, and he gives you a heated look before he grips your wrists, sitting up so that he's face to face with you.

He grips both your wrists in one hand and smiles, leaning in to kiss you before he's sucking a mark into your collarbone.

You groan his name and his pace increases.

"You feel so fucking good. I don't think I'm gonna last." He says desperately and you nod your head easily.

"It's okay, I'm close too. You can cum when you're ready."

He groans. His hips hammering up into yours, cock fully fucking you hard like there'll never be another time.

"I'm sorry I did all those things. I just wanted to be yours." He says in between breaths.

"Shhh Billy, we can talk about it later, I'm so close." You reply, too cock drunk to keep your head up so you tuck it into the crook of his neck.

You pull your hands from his grip behind your back, digging them into his biceps as you let out little whines, close to orgasm.

"Yours." Billy breathes, "I'm all yours."

You clench down around him hard, gasping as your orgasm hits, he holds you down on his cock as you trigger his orgasm too. You cling to him like a lifeline as you come down, you stay with your face buried in his chest, exhaustion from the entire day finally catching up to you.

"You mean that?" You ask, half asleep, sighing as you listen to him catch his breath.

His hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close.

"Every word." He confirms.

Falling asleep in his arms is easy after that.

.

.

.

A/N: yeah so I'll correct any mistakes I made later 💓

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #accidentally on purpose #accidentally on purpose married billy

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 6

You meet up with Santi, again, about your news, and it goes much better than last time. Also, your friends are the best people you know.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Abortion mentions (I am personally pro-choice). An awful lot of dialogue. Reader refers to her friends as 'guys' and Courtney refers to her as 'dude' at one point, and 'girl'. Swearing. I'm from the UK so I'm not 100% sure what happens in America regarding doctor/midwife appointments, but from what I've researched, it looks a little similar, so I'm going to try and be as accurate as I can moving forward. This hasn't been my favourite chapter so far, it's mostly been just a filler. Slightly proofread. Word count: 2,833 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 5 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 7

These are your texts. These are your friend's texts. Initials will be at the start of each text in the GC.

You both agreed to meet back at the coffee shop after work. You made the effort to finish at a regular time, that your clients could wait until after the weekend. Nothing huge was coming up for a while, so you had the time to relax, just a bit.

Which reminded you, you needed to organise something with your friends. You haven’t contributed to the group chat for nearly a week, and they’d been texting you separately to see if you were okay, and you’d been overly short with them.

You walked through the door of the coffee shop, looking around before your eyes land on Santi sat in a corner, looking at something on his phone. You take a moment to just check him out.

You’ve said it once, and you’ll say it again (probably forever), he was still so good-looking. Even with the nervous energy he had, he still made your heart skip a beat. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for a few days, his beard matching his mixture of black and salt and pepper curls. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt, and jeans. You didn’t understand how someone who could dress so simply could still look so well put together.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way over to him. He looks up from his phone, his eyes widened as you approached the table. You gave him as small smile as you approached.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Santi greeted you, standing from his seat and motioning to the empty seat opposite him.

“Thanks for reaching out,” you said, sitting down and placing your bag by your feet. He nervously sat back down, wiping his palms on his well-fitted jeans, a cappuccino and an iced latte already in front of him. You melted at the fact that, despite how badly your last meeting ended, he still remembered what drink you had in front of you.

“How are you doing today, are you doing all right?”

You huff out a small laugh. “Well, I threw up about ten times today, I think it might be a new record for me. I’m bloated and constantly hungry…” you bite your lip as you saw him avert his gaze awkwardly, his hands still rubbing against his jeans. You sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant. I’m fine.”

Santi nodded. “I’m sorry again about how I reacted on Sunday.”

You shake your head at him. “Really, you don’t have to say you’re sorry – “

“I said some not very nice things and it’s been playing over and over in my head, and it wasn’t right.”

You hesitated for a moment before you nodded. “What you said was kind of uncalled for. But I get it. I just threw this bombshell on you.”

“It doesn’t excuse it. I’d take it back if I could. Or never say it at all, because that’s not what I think of you.”

You nod at him before picking up the iced latte. “You’re forgiven. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Santi nodded, his hands finally stilling on his thighs. “Okay. Yeah.”

You take a sip of your coffee. It was a little stronger for what you would order usually, but you appreciated the effort. You take a deep breath and swallow nervously. “I know it's a lot to take in, but I think we need to figure out how we're going to handle this.”

Santi’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a subtle sigh of relief at you bringing up the elephant in the room. “Yeah, I agree. Have you made any decisions yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Well…I've been doing some research, and I’m leaning towards keeping it. I did look into terminating. But I’m not sure yet.”

Santi gave a single nod. “Okay.” he rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, what role do I play in this? Do you want me to be involved, or what?”

“That's entirely up to you. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with.”

Santiago went quiet, reaching over for his coffee and taking a sip. You both sat there in silence for a few moments, just drinking your coffees as you take in your situation.

You didn’t want to push him. You really appreciated that he reached out to you to talk to you about this, to get his input. If he wanted to be child free, then you could come up with some sort of agreement, where he wasn’t involved and wouldn’t have to pay child support. He could sign away his parental rights before the baby even arrived.

Or you could terminate, like you had looked into.

You shake the thought from your head. You have your first appointment with your doctor next week, you could explore your options then.

“Have you told anyone you’re pregnant yet?”

You were surprised by the question, merely because you weren’t expecting that to be his next one. You shake your head. “No. Have you?”

“No.” Santi placed his now empty coffee mug on the table. “You’re one hundred percent sure you are?”

You nod. “I took four tests, and they were all positive. I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday to confirm, but it’s more of a formality thing. And to get me on the books.”

“Yeah. Okay. Right.” Santi frowns at you. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Your breath hitches at the question as you suddenly felt exposed…stunned, and honestly, you felt a slight lump in your throat. You swallow nervously as you avert your gaze for a moment before you look back up at him. You didn’t think to ask. You assumed he wouldn’t want to go. But, really…you didn’t want to go alone. “If you wanted. You don’t have to decide now. But I would appreciate it if you could be there for emotional support.”

Santiago nodded. “I can do that, I’ll be there.”

“I appreciate that. And we can talk about a DNA test to confirm the paternity, if that’s something you want to do.”

Santi was already shaking his head. “No, I believe you. I don’t…we don’t have to do the paternity test.”

Your breath hitches slightly, tears finally filling your eyes. “Okay. Thank you.” You place your half-drunk coffee on the table before you lean forward. “I know this isn't what either of us planned, but I'm glad we're able to have an open and honest conversation about it.”

“I never thought I would be in the position,” Santi said. “Someone telling me that I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Never pictured yourself settling down?” you asked, sniffing as you wiped at your eyes. You pick up your drink again, finding you needed something to do with your hands, and take a large gulp.

“No. Not with work, or my lifestyle,” Santi replied. “Was never in the cards for me.”

You nod, understanding. “I get it. With my dating life, I didn’t think it would happen with me either.” You both settle into an awkward silence. You finish your drink and place it down on the table before clearing your throat. “So, the doctor’s appointment is after work, at five-thirty, do you want me to text you the address?”

“I can come and get you after work, if you want,” Santi replied.

You weren’t expecting that. “Oh, really, it’s okay. It’s a little out of your way – “

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be taking my car to work anyway, so…”

After a few moments, Santiago nodded. “Okay then. I’ll just meet you there.”

You gave him a small smile before grabbing your bag and standing, digging through it for your purse as Santiago quickly after you. “How much do I owe for coffee?”

Santi waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I – “

“I’m sure you paid for mine on Sunday when I stormed out.”

You gave him a look before continuing to dig through your bag. “I insist, Santi.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. I got you pregnant, so the least I can do is get your coffee.”

You look at him, seeing him raise his eyebrow at you and give you a pointed, unamused look. You sigh before closing your bag, giving him a small smirk. “Fine.”

He walks you out and down the block to your car, making small talk about work and how well the launch went, since you mentioned it on your date.

“It went great. I threw up during the big speech. Emily followed me to the bathroom.”

Santi groaned. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

You shake your head. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but I think she knows something is going on.”

“I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” muttered Santi, causing you to giggle as you reach your car.

You turned to Santi, giving him a smile. “Thanks again for…this. I really didn’t know what I was going to do.” You unlock your car before opening the door. You turn to look at him. “See you on Wednesday?”

“See you on Wednesday.”

You don’t hug. You don’t kiss. You don’t even shake hands. You just stare at each other for a moment before you climb into your car, giving him a small wave as you start it and back out of the space, driving away. You watch him for a moment in your rearview mirror, seeing him standing, watching you drive for a few seconds before he turns and walks away.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Why was that so awkward? The guy had seen you naked, had sex with you, and got you pregnant. Surely you were past the awkward stage in your not-relationship? You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. It was probably awkward because you were pregnant with his child. You barely knew each other.

Maybe he just needed a few more days for it to sink in. He hadn’t been around you much, after all, since you announced you were carrying his child.

You arrive back to your apartment, biting your lip as you stare at your phone screen, contemplating telling him you got home okay. Was that a bit forward? He might need just a bit of space after your meeting. You decide against texting him.

You get yourself out of your work clothes and into your comfiest pyjamas, slipping your feet into the fluffiest socks you own. You made your way into your kitchen, intending to heat up some leftovers, not really feeling like cooking much tonight. You turn on your oven, waiting for it to heat up.

You meander out of the kitchen, grabbing your phone from its place still in your bag, seeing that your group chat has been a little active since you left work to meet up with Santi. It wasn’t anything important, just your friends talking about their days. Gabrielle was dealing with two kids with chicken pox, and Beth’s newest client was being a nightmare and difficult. Courtney had offered her usual down to Earth responses, both in support of her friends.

You smiled. You wondered what they would say when they found out you were pregnant.

You. The perpetually single friend.

You type out a quick text, telling them exactly what was happening before you delete it all, and rewrite it. You stood there for a full ten minutes, contemplating letting them know what’s been going on over text. You should tell them in person. These were your girls, your family. They deserved better.

Sorry I have been MIA ladies. Been going through some stuff.

You sigh as you send the message in the group chat. It was simple and kept to the point.

It wasn’t long until you got a response.

B: Jesus, finally. Thought you’d died. You okay?

G: Do you need anything? I can come by tomorrow and drop some stuff off for you.

C: Glad you’re okay.

I’m okay, thanks guys. Is everyone free next weekend? We could have lunch somewhere.

G: I’ll see if I can get a sitter. Matthew is away with his brother for their cousin’s bachelor party.

B: I am free. I have something to ask you guys about the wedding.

G: Bridesmaids!?

B: You’ll just have to wait and see.

C: I’m free after 1pm. Got a work thing.

B: On a Saturday?

C: Rude, not all of us are our own boss.

B: Shut up.

Great, I can book a late lunch on Saturday. 2pm good for everyone? I’ll take a look at what’s available if not.

G: I’ve heard Bella Cucina is good, not sure if they’re open for lunches though.

They’re not, just the evenings. That’s where I went for my date with Santiago.

C: Lol.

You sent a not-very-ladylike emoji to Courtney before telling them you’ll send them lunch details when you can. You snort at Courtney’s not-so-ladylike reply back with a similar emoji before she sent you a message privately.

So, what’s going on? Did you take a pregnancy test?

You bit your lip. You appreciated that she asked you separately from the group chat, but you also wanted everyone to know what you were going through in person. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust her, Courtney wouldn’t breathe a word of it, but you just weren’t sure what was going to happen in the next few weeks. But you know that if you don’t say something now, Courtney will be suspicious. You could lie, but it would seem silly to.

You just had to bite the bullet. With Courtney anyway.

I did.

You immediately put your phone down, the panic rising in your throat. You did it. You were ‘publicly’ acknowledging your pregnancy to someone to wasn’t Santiago. You busied yourself with your almost forgotten leftovers, putting them in the oven and setting a timer. You went to your bathroom, took off the day’s make up, and placed on a face mask. You set up your couch, where you planned to plant yourself and watch Netflix all night, ignoring your phones constant chimes of Courtney’s messages.

You pottered around a bit more, closing your curtains, putting away your clothes, and cleaning up a few dishes you had left out that morning. You removed the face mask and moisturised your skin before finally going back to your phone.

And? Are you pregnant?

Come on, you can’t just throw that on me and disappear.

Seriously. Are you pregnant or not!?

I know you’re doing this on purpose, you haven’t just put your phone down and got distracted by something else!

You’re not subtle.

Girl, if you don’t answer your phone!!!!!

When she sent you your full name in capital letters, you thought it best to reply.

I’m pregnant.

Holy shit. How are you feeling?

Life has been a little upside down. I’ve been dealing with it.

Does Santiago know?

Yeah, it’s why I’ve been MIA. It’s been a challenge.

Fuck, dude, are you okay?

It’s fine. Well, it will be fine. I have an appointment on Wednesday with my OB, Santi will be there. So he says. I won’t blame him if he changes his mind, it’s not exactly an ideal situation.

Are you keeping it?

You hesitated, because you didn’t know how to answer that. You obviously took too long to answer because Courtney rang your phone. You took a few seconds to answer it. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep it.”

“Is it because of Santiago?”

“Well, partly. It’s his foetus too.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “And other factors. Obviously. Money. My living situation. Work. It’s all just…overwhelming.”

“You know we won’t judge you for what you choose to do, right?” Courtney said. “Is that what lunch is about next week? You don’t have to say anything to the others if you decide not to keep it, don’t feel pressured to let the others know.”

You try to hold back tears, sucking in your lips and biting down on them before you take a shaky breath. “I know.”

“We’ll be here for you, whatever you need. Do you need me there on Wednesday?”

“No, really, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay…you know Andy is a cop, right, he knows how to hide a body where no-one will find it if Santiago fucks you over.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I know. But Santi’s a good guy.”

“The offer is there.”

Your timer goes off in your ear, causing you to flinch. You turn it off, before finally telling Courtney that you had to go, you were about to have dinner. You told her you would tell her all about the week you’d had another time, and that you would keep her updated on anything regarding the baby, and/or Santiago. She told you that she would always be available for you. You both hang up.

In that moment, you knew you’d be okay. You’d be fine. No matter what happens with the baby and Santi, at least you had your friends. And that was all you needed.

Tagged - @khonsulockley

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader

[the-remaining-half]

I think I have finally slowly internalised the fact that motivation is a feeling, an emotion just like any other. It comes and goes as it please.

And well my study schedule cannot change to adjust to my bouts of motivation.

The key for me, I realised, was discipline.

Yes it’s hard and sucky and I hate it. But I do it anyway. Because if I don’t, the regret that I feel later on makes me hate myself. And I fear that regret so much.

So for me its a choice - I can either suffer the pain of discipline or I can suffer the pain of regret. And if I’m going to be in pain anyway, why the heck should I not gain something out of it?

So I sit down to study.

Sure I also add things that will make it easy for me to do that. Because I, I love studying. Once I start, I really really enjoy the subjects I have chosen and the concepts I understand. I love learning.

But for me the really hard part is sitting down to study. So I work on that…

1. I just sit down. On time. With a schedule that I follow everyday so that I exert less mental strength trying to convince myself. I just know its time for me to study if I follow my schedule.

2. I am all about the little things, all about feeling good and in control. So I do that. I make a big and aesthetic affair out of sitting down to study. I prepare myself a snack and get myself something to drink and set my study area and books - I create a visual setup that appeals to me and makes me want to study.

3. I limit how many times I get up. I know people say that our attention span is short and we should use the pomodoro technique, but personally speaking it just does not work for me. I find it hard to get in the study zone but really easy to stay once I am there and concentrating and so taking many breaks actually really distracts me and take me out of my study zone. So I take less breaks and I make sure I already have everything I need with me before I sit down to study so that I do not have to get up.

4. I make the process fun for me. I know my way of studying, my strengths and my weaknesses. So I use them to my advantage. I am a very conceptual learner, I am a visual learner, I am prefer to write things down to slow myself and understand, I prefer my study material in my own language and my own way of explaining, I am a very organised person. I am very bad at memorising random facts that have no logic. So I incorporate all these in my notes - I make my notes very organised and aesthetic notes that help me memorise. I add diagrams and flowcharts of my own explanations. I use mnemonics that relate to me and are easy for me to remember (they are usually jokes that make people thing I have a very broken sense of humour).

5. I do not study in groups. I know again this is very controversial specially for med school but when I am understanding a new topic, I find the presence of people around me very distracting. I prefer to study in my room by myself. On the other hand, once I have studied the topic, I benefit from group discussions. I sit down with my friends and make them understand the topic… this helps them and it helps me. Teaching someone else is a very good way of revising for me and their questions make me think and understand parts I may have missed while studying.

6. I plan what I am going to study the next day, the might before. I put my pen on the first page of the topic or chapter or whatever and shut the book. This way I know I simply have to open my book and get down to study because everything else has been done before. It’s almost like I get rid of my possible excuses before hand. I decrease the resistance.

I feel sitting down and understanding your way of studying is important for this very reason. So that you can make your plan and study accordingly. It decreases so much resistance and makes you so sure of your ways.

It makes me enjoy studying and study better all the way!

#blog #rants #life #medical school #college studyblr #writing #medschool #study blog #university student #uniblr #medicine #medstudent #med school #medical student #college #college student #college life #study #studyspiration #study inspiration #studystudystudy #study aesthetic #study hard #motivation #discipline

[ae-neon]

Nezriel drabble?

NSFW Look Away (but also I clearly can't write nsfw lmao)

Context? Nesta gets to live and train with Azriel like she wanted I guess??

Soft music floated out from the doorway and they entered, ducking through a dim hallway until the world opened up into a well furnished foyer.

A woman - a Fae, red skinned and with a tail trailing behind her nodded in greeting. Azriel nodded back, no doubt an important and frequent enough guest to warrant his specific taste be catered to.

But tonight was not about him.

Nesta trailed behind him, in a slim fitted white dress and her hair in a bun at her nape.

Her stomach tightened as the reality of it hit her - excitement and nervousness colliding.

She'd been curious and after he'd poked light fun and raised a few brows at her choice of reading material, they'd talked about it - about the world that existed around sex, the one Nesta had only guessed at, one Azriel was apparently quite familiar with.

He'd asked her, weeks later, if she'd wanted to see it for herself and Nesta had fought off the blood rushing to her face to ask what he meant. The House of Inarus.

"According to legend," he moved towards an opening blocked off by heavy velvet drapes then pulled them aside, "Inarus, known to the Fae as the Traveller, was a Seraphim. He endured 5 trials in his mission to win the hand of Oriana, daughter of the first High King. This place has 5 floors, each descent symbolises a commitment to...endure what comes next."

The room was an organised chaos: here and there were chairs and tables collected in little groups with beings of every kind littered about the room, in every form of dress and undress available. The walls were a smooth dark stone that reflected the little light the chandeliers gave off. Soft music floating down from unseen space.

Nesta tried not to gawk as a water sprite wearing nothing but a pearl belt around her waist offered her a glass of swirling gold. She took it, unable to think as she watched the woman sway away. A second later she turned to see Azriel quietly observing her, a little bemused.

The glass in her hand suddenly felt ten times its weight, "I didn't mean to take it, I-"

He shrugged, casual in a way he rarely was outside the house, "Try it. It's a special import from Day, the recipe is courtesy of Helion's wild youth if he's to be believed."

Nesta hesitated but Azriel wasn't the type to be unnecessarily cruel, he wouldn't turn around and sell her out. The wine sparkled and fizzed, surprisingly light in flavour.

He moved, putting a gentle hand on the small of her back and his mouth near her ear, "This isn't what we came here to see."

He guided her around the room, which seemed to be a meeting place of sorts, until they had crossed to the other side and found a set of stairs descending into the dark.

The next room and its occupants were less shy, the furniture was arranged with the idea of display in mind and at the centre of every gathering was a pair or more putting on a show.

Nesta's eyes snagged on the intertwined forms, unfamiliar but not shocking. She'd read enough to understand, had touched herself to the thought of it.

She walked ahead of Azriel, vaguely aware of him trailing behind her, her eyes taking in every performance but her legs leading her to where she thought the next set of stairs might be.

Here she almost stopped, a little thrown off by the seemingly endless ocean of bodies writhing together. More than once a hand reached out to hers, beckoning her to join, but Nesta only glanced back at Azriel then continued around the room. Some dead part of her proprietary warred against the idea of having so many partners, unable to tell where one group began and the other ended.

On the third floor, she found Fae dressed and acting familiar roles; servants, slaves, priestesses, dogs, cats, cows, warriors and royalty. It caught and held her attention and Nesta found herself engrossed in one pair until the green eyes of the male caught on her, he grinned - sharp and wicked - as he pressed a heeled boot into the shoulder of the male kneeling before him.

"Care to join?" Azriel's voice seemed to somehow slip under the noises in the room rather than rise above it. Nesta shook her head, wondering if the warmth in her body was because of whatever Helion had baked into his strange wine.

Once again Azriel's hand moved to guide her, "Last one."

"I thought there were 5 floors."

"There are, but for now, this will be enough."

Her curiosity irked her but a larger part of her trusted Azriel. She had guessed at what might come next, wondered at the things Azriel might enjoy after they had begun their talks, and even dreamed about him once.

Nesta was met with the sight of a female, iridescent scales for skin, suspended by thick ropes. Behind her another female, an Illyrian, stood with a whip in hand.

The whip cracked on the merling's ass and she screamed, the sound caught on the gag in her mouth. Nesta watched, warmth spreading as the merling struggled against her binding, muscles flexing in an attempt to squirm. The whip cracked again and the merling's body shook, the wetness of her inner thighs catching in the dim light as she slowly rotated.

The Illyrian female lifted what Nesta almost thought was a second whip until it was turned and slowly inserted into the merling. All the while the Illyrian alternated between slapping and placing soft kisses to the dark blue bruises on the merling's ass. Each action eliciting a different reaction, the sounds almost hypnotic.

Around them, others watched, some pleasuring themselves and some pleasuring others. In other parts of the room, she spotted male bound to the floor by his neck and in another she thought she might have seen two people tied together. But still her eyes returned to the two females.

She didn't know how long she'd stood and watched but eventually her silver eyes dragged from the display to where Azriel stood leaning against a door on the other side of the room. In the dim light and with the shadows that always wreathed him, he should have been almost invisible but like this - when her eyes burned - Nesta saw everything. Even the small smile playing on his lips. He nodded towards the door, telling her to follow, then slipped through it.

Inside, an array of items meant to facilitate similar sorts of activities were arranged on tables against the walls. Rope, rods, paddles, gags, clamps and items that she really couldn't guess at.

"What did you think?"

Nesta moved towards the tray of more wine set beside it, "It was interesting."

Azriel followed, "Would you like to try something like that?"

She'd been prepared for the question, it seemed only natural after everything that had led them to this moment, so she nodded.

There was a part of Azriel that might have warned her off it, might have wanted to show her more than she could handle to scare her. It was how he had dealt with certain people in the past. It was the kind of thing he might do if it were Elain standing before him.

But he had seen it in Nesta's eyes, sensed in the way her breath caught when she read the more risque books. She'd taken up her training and given up her drinking according to Feyre and Rhys' wishes once her own to be away from Cassian and Windhaven had been granted. And yet he could sense she still needed some sort of outlet.

"You should know, before you start, the rules of engagement. It's not something I would recommend rushing into and it takes a lot more vulnerability than you might think." Azriel moved towards her, drawn in by the way her heart beat a little faster than usual. He imagined the rush might be intoxicating though Nesta hid it well enough. She did that often. This might be the place she finally let it all out. Azriel wondered what that might sound like. "For tonight, you can watch, get to know some of the others and maybe try a few things - or we could go home, it's up to you."

Her gaze slid past him, surveyed the items laid out, then flicked to his face, "When you come here, what do you do?"

He couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped him, he didn't want to scare her, "This room is mine, for private use."

Nesta nodded, again surveying the items, mind working, "Do you like pain?"

The question almost caught him off guard, "Sometimes."

"And if...if I said yes, you'd do that to me?"

The words twisted his gut. All at once it was an admittance of trust, of longing, a confirmation that their shared silences and the way Nesta seemed to never run out of questions - all of it had meant the same to her as they had to him. He was not a monster for liking the way she felt in his arms when they flew together. He was not wrong for looking forward to returning to the house after days away. Even those dreams, liking the scent of her, having to touch himself when he knew she was doing the same...

But he was a traitor to his brother.

"Do you want me to do that to you?"

"Maybe," A faint blush coloured her cheeks and she glanced at the floor, the space between them, "...but... it's just...I would want to start...slower?"

Azriel stepped forward, closing the distance and drawing her attention up at his face. He reached for her - he had learnt with Nesta that she was weary and tended to reciprocate rather than take the lead when she felt uncomfortable, "Start slower?"

He moved impossibly closer until they were almost flush. The thumb of one hand traced her jawline while the other rested on her hip. It was more than he had ever dared to do but not enough to raise her defences.

Her silver eyes met his then dipped to his lips and Azriel resisted the urge to spend the rest of the night simply kissing her.

Again there was that blush that had her averting her gaze, "I haven't...yet shared my bed with anyone."

He was a little surprised, especially when gossip had spread of the High Lady's sister seen kissing sailors in the dim corners of dingy taverns. But another part of him was just as unsurprised - she was still Nesta, still walled off and, until a few months ago, she might have been waiting for a certain someone to be the one she shared all this with.

Azriel wondered if he should have felt guilty as he leaned in and met Nesta's mouth with his own. She hesitated for less than a second, maybe a little surprised they had finally crossed that bridge, but it didn't last.

She moved to meet him, mirroring the slow way he kissed her, tipping her head back and leaning her body in when their tongues met.

One of Nesta's hand cupped his face and the other held his nape. His own moved to pull at her hips before one moved across her back and the other slid down to find the slit in her dress. He bent a little to find the back of her knee then pulled her up and settled her against him.

Nesta gasped into his mouth, the sound burning into him, but simply moved her hands to his shoulders. In a second, the world moved, wind brushing against them and then Azriel was sitting.

The position forced her dress up, too tight to fit over her straddling thighs and hips. Without thinking, Azriel's hand followed, tracing the soft skin of her thighs and squeezing her ass. This time her gasp was half moan and Azriel let his mouth follow the column of her throat instead, licking, sucking and biting until she was squirming in his lap.

Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled until he was forced to look up at her through lidded eyes. Still his hands moved under her dress, groping and squeezing as they worked their way closer to her panties.

Nesta's other hand moved to unbuttoned and unclip his shirt, pushing the fabric away and brushing over the inked skin.

He at last traced his fingers over the wet fabric between her legs and felt Nesta's body tense slightly then shift to grind against him.

-------

I cannot write sex but know that they do have sex. And then, weeks later they go back and Nesta ties up Azriel and dommes him.

#nezriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar drabble #my writing

[a-zira-fell]

This post is a Work in Progress and will be edited.

The Second Coming

Jesus comes back in a Judgement Day kinda situation - some Good Omens thoughts

(Footnotes under readmore) (1)

1. Who is Jesus?

At the time of the setting of Season 3 (2026?), he should be in his mid thirties (2)

A carpenter? It seems in keeping with the humour and charme of GO that he may well be a carpenter

I don't care about Jesus's gender at all. Might be a guy, might be a girl, might be neither or both, but what i know for sure is that Jesus has to be queer (3)

2. His Parents

Son of a Carpenter and the 'Virgin Mary'

maybe their names are Joseph and Mary maybe not

Young couple just got pregnant (Jane the Virgin type situation?), decide to keep it, one time there was a weird posh guy who told her she would bear the Second Coming of the Son of God and she replied "I don't even want an abortion, man" and forgot about it (4)

Punk adjacent working class parents in the 90s

Atheist-raised Christ?

3. Jesus had a hell of a weird childhood

Sparks of divine energy at random times, often emotionally triggered

Brought objects to life and revived dead pets for friends

4. Good Omens tie-in

The events of GO 1 may have triggered something in him (5) and since then miracles happen more and more frequently and he's learning to control them

He finds himself speaking truths he can't quite wrap his own head around

There are still bursts that are linked to emotions, so sometimes it's not as easy to hide. With social media and all

It has attracted people to him, some of whon may see in him the Second Coming of Christ. It's true, he knows, but it feels like a dark secret because there is so much he doesn't understand

It's like a cult that he's barely a part of, yet he is the leader

5. His Environment

He's got this close circle of friends but twelve is a lot by those standards and it's mostly just hanging out with some of them at one time

There are few occasions with all of them present but it's always a good time.

Jesus doesn't have a favourite. He has some friends that are closer but everyone contributes to the group.

He still feels set apart from them all except:

6. Judas

is the boyfriend

Absolutely devoted to Jesus but also a natural born helper who puts the cause first and manages the budget of the group as organisers of protests or booths at pride

Crowley finds he is easy to tempt to do many things, but his resolve to protect Jesus is unwavering, temptations that involve Jesus in any way don't catch on Judas (6)

Jesus relies on Judas a lot. He's torn between his fate, this whole unknown side to the world, and Judas, his foot in the real world. His rock in the stormy sea.

7. Miscellaneous

Jesus has for sure taken apart a queerphobic booth next to a church once, at the far side of a Pride Event

He was drunk one summer night and came by a plum tree in someone's yard, plums not ripe just yet. He cussed it out half jokingly, forgetting about magic bursts. Then next day the tree is completely shrivelled up

Got thoughts about Jesus? 💌 (69)

(1) yeah, it's that kind of post

(4) is there one christ per generation? That never goes off bc it's never the time. Like a switch needs to be switched to activate the sleeper agent Christ within. (All humans are made the same. Anyone could be christ.

(2) to my knowledge (adequate) Christ's birth is placed ca 4-7 BC, making him 34-37 in 30 or even 37-40 in 33 ad where his main work that we usually know him from (not the carpentry) took place.

(3) I'll refer to Jesus as he in this post bc that's easier

- is there one woodworker's kid per generation, across the globe that is just Soooooooooo fucking weird?

- does Gabriel visit one mother per generation and activate a Jesus Gene or ...

(5) or was the book of life used to activate that?

(6) I am a firm believer in 'Judas tried to deescalate the situation in Jerusalem before Jesus could come to any harm by choosing the lesser of all evils, which to him seemed to be having Jesus arrested and locked up for the duration of Pesach.' This plan however, spectacularly backfired. He unknowingly sent humanity's God-approved sacrificial lamb exactly where it could be most effectively used. Poor sod. He was just in love and unaware of the power of a mimetic crisis.

---

(69) This is the last footnote. Please step into my inbox 💌 with opinions and ideas. As I update this post, I will tag to credit ideas that weren't mine.

#good omens #the second coming #jesus #crowley #judas #quip #my writing #wip

[severitus-big-bang]

Icebreaker questions!

You have just contacted a complete stranger and don’t know what to talk about? Fear not! Here are some questions that might spike conversation and hopefully will let you get to know them better.

Teambuilding:

Preferred name, pronouns, fandom handle(s)

Since we already covered the DNWs: List 5 things you especially enjoy in stories (e.g. a kind of trope, story line, etc.).

What strengths will you bring to the group?

What things do you struggle with when it comes to group work? How can your collaborators help you with these things?

Have you ever collaborated on a fanwork with someone before? If so, describe what it was like, which things worked for you, which things didn't work as well.

If you feel comfortable, suggest ways that your collaborators might be involved in your creation process that would work well for you.

What are you hoping for from this collaboration experience? What would your dream version of SeveritusBB collaboration look like?

Tell your partner(s) about a good and a bad group work experience you've had, either in fandom or at school or work (or other). What made the good one good? What made the bad one bad? What did you learn about what makes group work successful for you?

What's one thing your partner(s) could say or do that would feel really good to you? (For example, compliment your fanwork, offer to help with organisation/beta/cheerleading, reach out to you to say hi every few days, etc.)

If one or more group members become unhappy or uncomfortable with how the collaboration is going, what are your preferences for how it be handled? (For example, a preference that your partner(s) tell you right away if something bothers them, a preference that they give you some time after telling you something heavy for you to process and respond, etc. Please note that for any conflict that cannot be resolved within a single conversation, we STRONGLY ENCOURAGE coming to the mods for support and not allowing things to escalate! Participants should also all feel welcome and encouraged to come straight to the mods without having talked to their partner first if that feels safer/better!)

Funsies:

Name as many books, movies, TV shows, animes, comics, celebrities, etc. as you can think of that you have felt or feel fannish about.

If you could be any fictional character for a day, who would it be, and why?

If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?

If you were stuck on a deserted island with no access to the internet, which 3 Severitus fanworks would you take with you?

What are 3 facts about yourself (fannish or otherwise) that you haven’t already mentioned?

What would be your animagus form / patronus?

If you had to listen to one song on repeat for a whole day, which one would it be and why?

Have fun, and make the teamwork dream work!

With thanks to the pod_together mods for the question suggestions!

#severitus big bang 2024 #icebreakers #severitus #fandom #creativity

[criminvls]

Name: Liv Bastias Aliases: Olivia Childs    (Everyone will know her as Olivia Childs, only those who knew her before she faked her death will know her original name, this is currently just Zane) Gender/Pronouns: She/Her Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Heterosexual Age: 38 Birthdate: November 2, 1985 Occupation: Commercial cleaner at The Royal Opera House Height: 5 ` 7 “ Hair: Dark brown, corkscrew curls, often worn naturally. Eyes: Brown Identifying Marks: Tattoo on right wrist that has been laser removed Positive traits: Adaptable, focused, and calm under pressure Negative traits: Selfish, secretive, and impulsive. Group/Organizational Affiliations: Non-currently / civilian. Family: Former Husband - Zane Bastias Best Friends: (OPEN) Relationship Status: Single / Technically still married to Zane under her previous identity. Other Relationships: (OPEN)

Backstory:

No one in Olivia Childs' life knows who she really is. Before becoming Olivia Childs, she was known as Liv Bastias. She was a thief who had a talent for pulling off heists with precision and care with her husband and partner in crime, Zane Bastias. For Liv, the thrill of the heist, the rush of adrenaline, and the risk of getting caught is what kept her going but despite this they eventually decided to leave their criminal life behind to pursue something more normal, discussing the possibility of one day starting a family. 

However, as time passed Liv began to feel restless and missed the excitement and intensity of her old life. To Liv, normal wasn't all she had thought it would be. She had kept her feelings to herself, not wanting to disrupt the life that she and Zane had chosen. But then, Liv received a threat that would change everything.

Someone had reached out to Liv with the threat of exposing her. The last heist was perfectly planned and executed but somehow something went wrong. Something was missed. They had incriminating evidence but it was only Liv, not Zane. Although she tried to stamp it out, the threats kept coming and they were not just threats against herself anymore. Living under this constant fear was suffocating her and feeling like she had no other choice she constructed a plan to disappear and start over, leaving Zane to live his life.

Paying off the coroner was only the beginning of Liv’s complex escape plan. In order to disappear she had to make it convincing. Liv enlisted the help of a friend who she knew she could trust, slipping them a little money helped too of course. In order to disappear convincingly she had to make everything appear legitimate and Liv had to die, so that Olivia could be born.

The violent fire that destroyed everything was no accident, and changing her identity proved to be a difficult task. But Liv had to keep moving, never looking back, and never leaving a trace of her past life behind. It's a sad thought that Liv had to die so that Olivia could live, but it's a testament to the lengths that Liv was willing to go to keep herself and Zane safe.

Fast forward years later and Olivia can be found working as a commercial cleaner at the Royal Opera House. It's not the most appealing job and the pay is terrible, but a job is a job. She has been there for a couple of months and can already feel the boredom of such a monotonous, mind-numbing job settling in but this is just one of many stepping stones she has to hop across. Whilst barely making ends meet the small thefts she now does solo alone aren't nearly enough to make up for what's missing in her life. Currently looking for more exciting work and that thrill she craves so much, who knows where she might end up.

3 fun facts about your character: 

- Olivia is still seeking that thrill and she misses it dearly, dare she say more than she misses her husband?

- Olivia isn't involved with any organisation currently, and whilst she's been working solo, she wants to feel like she is part of something bigger again.

- Olivia still wears her wedding ring and though she has been close to pawning it a few times it's the one thing she still has from her old life that she doesn't really want to let go of.

#olivia childs : bio #tw fire #tw death

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me pt 3 | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 ** Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

It's Sunday, it's update day x

A few weeks later, Rhys and the gang organise a beach day.

It’s been surprisingly easy to settle in here, but that might be because Rhys pops round every other day and makes sure I’m alright. I would have thought I’d hate that, after the way Tamlin used to hover. But it’s not like that. Tamlin would comment on the way I dressed, or what I ate, or whether I was keeping the place clean. Rhys just wants to feed me tea and biscuits.

He has a ridiculous sweet tooth, and always has different biscuits. Loves biscuits. Chocolate, cream filled, iced, you name it. He’s like a middle-aged lady stuffed into the body of a young Greek god, and so even though he’s covered in tattoos, he’s quickly established as the least threatening person I know. I don't know how he brews it differently to the way anyone else does, but I find that his cups of tea warm my insides so well that they stay warm long after the mugs are empty and for a while after he leaves.

I think he feels a little protective of me because of his history with Tamlin. I haven’t probed, but every time his name comes up, the corners of Rhys’s mouth turn down. Mor tells me they’ve had it out for each other since childhood, and I’m not sure I want to open that decades-deep can of worms. And besides, I know Tamlin. It’s not a stretch of the imagination to guess at why someone might not like him.

We pile into Cassian’s pick up truck, Azriel in the front seat and me wedged in the back between Rhys and Mor. I hadn’t wanted to come at first, the group in full force can still be a little overwhelming, but Mor said it was exhausting being one of the boys and that if I came she’d get to be a girl. I didn’t quite follow that logic, but Rhys said he’d buy me fish and chips and honestly, I’ve always been motivated by free food.

After an hour’s drive, of Cassian singing along loudly and badly to the radio, we get out of the car and everyone starts immediately pulling their clothes off. I’m not quite prepared for this, and not for the first time I’m slightly scandalised by the raw confidence that steams off these people. In fairness to them, maybe I’d be like that if I looked like them. Mor is in a one-piece swimsuit, which sounds innocent except that nothing is ever innocent on Mor. It’s red, and if it wasn’t already low-cut it’s got a zipper down the front which is currently pulled only half way up. She looks like she’s about to step onto Bay Watch.

Azriel and Cassian are in wetsuits, but the shirt halves are peeled down to the waist and hanging low about their hips. Rhys is in shorts and has just discarded his t-shirt. I decide to keep my loose shirt-dress on until we hit the sand.

It’s early in the Summer and the sun is out but the water is freezing. Azriel and Cassian disappear beyond the waves with surfboards pretty quickly, Mor has struck up a conversation with a nearby volley-ball team, and Rhys is sitting on a towel next to me applying sunscreen. I watch Mor start to toss the ball, and am jealous of how easily she makes friends.

“The sun is the worst thing for tattoos,” he tells me. I notice that he’s paying much more attention to his ink than his face or anything, and wonder if his dark skin means he doesn’t burn easily. I wriggle out of my dress and start applying the lotion everywhere, since I do not have the luxury of differentiating between tattoo-sensitive skin and white-girl-sensitive skin.

“Hey, would you do my back?”

I look up and Rhys is already turning his broad shoulders to me. He’s got dark, curving tattoos down his scapulae, like wings.

“Sure.” I force my casualness into my voice, but I suddenly realise that although he’s around my place all the time, he rarely initiates physical contact. The last time he touched me was when he was applying salve to my arm, but since then he’s kept his distance.

I squirt a good-sized amount of lotion into my palm and then start rubbing him down. It is impossible not to notice the bulk of his muscle under my hands, and I blush a little before remembering he can’t see me. I try to stay professional, giving good SPF coverage, going back for a second squirt after underestimating the size of him, and wonder if Rhys knows his tattoo well enough to know if my fingers slip beyond the borders of the ink. I tell myself I can’t help it, I’m an artist and I like beautiful things. I tear my hands away. “All done,” I say, perhaps a little too brightly.

“Thanks.” Rhys turns. “Now you.”

I hand the tube back to him and spin obediently. He lifts the length of my hair over my shoulder, before I hear the squelch of lotion, and then he touches me.

Rhys’s hands are enormous. I can feel him all the way across the span of my shoulders, and when he squeezes a little it’s everywhere. His touch is slightly rough where his hands are calloused, and warmer than the sun. Incongrouously, an involuntary shiver runs through me and I hope Rhys doesn't notice.

It’s over and soon as it’s started.

“Thank you,” I tell him. Rhys just winks at me, and then walks down to the water. “You know if you don’t wait a while you’re just washing it all off,” I call after him. He doesn’t stop though.

I lie back on my towel and fish my book out of my bag. For the next little while, time loses meaning.

At a guess it’s about an hour and a half later that the group returns. I’ve stayed with everyone’s bags and towels, and I don’t know how they coordinated to come back together but my attention is snagged when when a shadow falls over my page and I look up and there they all are. Mor is slightly sweaty from her game, but somehow instead of gross she’s just flushed and glowing. She’s pulled her blonde hair back into a pony tail and is talking to Azriel. Cassian and Rhys have come up on the other side. Rhys is dripping on me a little. His hair is slicked back, apart from a rogue curl at the front, and I catch one glimpse of the way his wet shorts are clinging to him before I pointedly return to my book. Cassian sits down next to me.

“Have you been in the water yet, Feyre?” he asks me. “Come for a surf. You can take Az’s board, he’s going to look for some food.”

“I don’t know how,” I tell him, closing my book before it gets soaked.

“Well that’s no problem, I can teach you.”

“Isn’t it freezing?”

“It’s not too bad if you’re in a wetsuit. You can wear Rhys’s, it’s in the car.”

“It’ll be huge on me,” I argue.

“It’ll do fine for now.”

“I’m extraordinarily uncoordinated.”

“You can swim, can’t you?”

“Yeah I can swim…”

“Well then let’s go!”

I run out of arguments. Saying no to Cassian is like saying no to a golden retriever, and I can’t quite manage it.

“Okay?” I give him a weird grimace and I guess the pleased look on his face is worth it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Rhys says.

“I… no I want to try.”

“Yeah Rhys she wants to try,” Cassian says. He puts his arm around my shoulders and frowns at Rhys as he leads me away.

“Look after her,” Rhys just says mildly.

“Of course I’m gonna look after her.” Cassian's annoyance grows. His eyebrows go up when he turns back to me. “I’m gonna look after you,” he reassures me.

So I let him put me into Rhys’s oversized suit, talk me through the motions on the sand and then tow me out into the ocean.

I’m not convinced my efforts are worth recounting, seeing as it involved a lot of me getting dumped and struggling to remember which way is up. I scramble onto the board, get knocked off by a wave with a right hook, drown for a minute, and then emerge above the fray to the sounds of Cassian’s whooped encouragements. I repeat this process so many times my throat is raw and burning with salt, and my eyes are stinging and puffy. I’m bruised from bumping the board wrong, attached as it is to my ankle. I croak my defeat to Cassian after what feels like an hour, and he helps guide me back to shore, where I struggle back to the group like a wet cat and land in a heap on my towel.

“So surfing, probably not for me,” I rasp.

“What are you talking about, you did great!” Cassian says. I squint up at his face and am not sure whether to be surprised that he is being completely genuine. “First day, baby,” he says. “It can only get better from here.”

“Yeah Cassian was shit his first day, don’t worry about it,” Mor says.

“Still is shit,” Azriel adds. He gives me his towel to wrap around my shoulders, since I am sitting on mine. Mor hands me a bottle of water, and it tastes strangely sweet on my sea-savaged lips.

And despite myself I laugh and agree to try again, because although I am exhausted and bedraggled and sore, I do feel like I accomplished something, and I feel a little more at ease with these guys than I did before.

Rhys arrives then, with the promised fish and chips and I realise I’m starving. The steaming hot, battered fish is everything I need, and I am content with filling my stomach while Cassian regales Rhys with the tales of my valiant attempt. He acts all impressed and gives me the rest of his chips.

“Oh I ran into Cress and Tarquin,” Rhys says, while helping me out of his wetsuit. The words don’t mean anything to me, but the others all react positively. “They said they’ll be around our area next week so might try to organise something.”

“Sounds good, I haven’t seen those guys in forever,” Cassian says.

“Beach people,” Mor shrugs, looking toward me. “Pretty but boring.”

“Helion’s coming down too,” Rhys tells her. She immediately lights up.

“Oh then I’ll be there!”

“She and Helion used to have a thing,” Azriel fills me in. Mor sighs fondly.

“The last dude I ever banged,” she sighs. “He’s almost as good in bed as a woman.”

“Hey,” Cassian pouts. Mor ignores him and closes one eye at Rhys.

“Didn’t you go out with Helion at some stage?” she asks him.

“No, he dated Cress,” Azriel says. Rhys just clears his throat and starts packing things up.

“Okay time to go everyone,” he says, dodging the question. Mor rolls her eyes and loops her arm through mine, telling me how they had met the group when they had come up stay at the beach after high school graduation. From what I gather, unsupervised teenage shenanigans ensued.

Later, we are back in the car and this time Rhys is driving. Azriel went off to visit a girl in town and did not return home with us, Cassian and Mor are snoozing in the back seat, and I am sitting in the passenger side in my swimsuit, with my towel folded under me and Rhys’s sweater over the top. I feel like maybe I should be embarrassed that my bikini top is making two wet patches in the front of his shirt, but I’m too tired to worry about it. I just lean back in my seat, with my legs folded under me and my dark glasses cutting the glare of the setting sun, and peek at Rhys in profile.

He’s driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his open window. His hair is drying in the wind, the salt curling the ends, and his violet eyes are warm in the orange light. He glances at me, and winks when he catches me staring, before turning back to the road.

I drag my gaze away too, and watch the trees blur beside me. I wonder how I ended up here, how I came so far from where I was a month ago, and how I got so lucky as to find these people.

And I make myself a promise that I’m not going to screw up these friendships. Not with Mor and not with Cassian, not with Azriel and I’m not sure if Azriel’s my friend yet but I decide that he will be. And especially not with Rhys, because I’m pretty sure he’s saved me in more ways than he knows.

***

I feel the need to put out a warning that this is a thing i plan to start fluffy and turn dark and i dont want to be misleading (but also i'm fairly sure y'all are a bunch of kinky shits soooo should be fine right) Also idk what the fuck is happening with this taglist but some of them dont work and the editor is making it extremely difficult for some reason so I'm very sorry for that. Also also if you don't want to be on the taglist just let me know, it's been about a year since some of you have been on here and I haven't checked in!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @themoonthestarsthesuriel @rarephloxes @timesconvert

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #rhys x feyre

[semper-legens]

114. Bitter, by Akwaeke Emezi

Owned: No, library Page count: 261 My summary: Bitter lives in a divided world. Lucille, her home, is a warzone. Kids fight corporations and politicians in the streets, and nothing ever changes. But when she bleeds onto a painting that she made, she lets loose something unexpected into Lucille. Something beautiful. Something deadly. The angels are here, and they aren't going to compromise. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

When I wrote my original thoughts on Pet, I remarked that I would very much like to see another outing in this world, fleshing out the worldbuilding and being able to peek into the corners of this setting. Well, as it turns out, Emezi already wrote that book, and it's this one! I was very pleasantly surprised to see this on the shelf, so of course I grabbed it and read it. And I very much enjoyed it! The book was exactly what I had wanted from a prequel to Pet; it's a story about Jam's parents, Bitter and Aloe, back when Lucille was a horrible place to be. And, of course, the first appearance of the angels.

Speaking of, let's talk about monsters and angels. As presented in Pet, there are two categories here; those who helped save Lucille and make it into the near-utopia it is now, the angels, and those who are bigoted and responsible for systemic inequality, the monsters. Pet's thing was, however, that there was a monster left - an angel who is now abusing a child. Because getting rid of all the monsters doesn't mean that no new ones will appear. Here, though, the monsters are more conventional - though that doesn't mean there's no grey morality, or that the angels are wholly good. See, while the monsters of Lucille are exactly the hateful bigots that you might imagine, the angels aren't exactly squeaky clean in their tactics either. The angels summoned by Bitter and her schoolmates are terrifying beings, and their tactics are pretty much straight to murder. Which Bitter doesn't like. She wants things to change for the better, but that doesn't mean public executions are the way forward either. Which is a totally understandable attitude for a scared kid living in these sort of times. Shit's complicated when you're struggling to survive.

And this book certainly doesn't have a straightforward relationship to violence as an ideal. The angels want to hunt and murder, and over on the human side of things, there's an organisation of kids who are fighting in the streets to take back Lucille from their oppressors. Bitter's on the outside of both groups - the mere idea of being out on the streets is enough to give her a panic attack, but at the same time she understands the goals they're reaching for. She just isn't sure if putting more people in danger is the solution. That idea is strengthened by an elderly man in the community who is accidentally killed in the climax, who just made pie and told stories - a valuable member of Lucille's community, but killed pointlessly in an ever-escalating war. Violence begets violence, and while there's never going to be a bigoted oppressor who just rolls over and starts being nice just because you asked, it's not a naive dream to hope for a solution where nobody has to be hurt, or at least as few people as possible. Getting rid of the angels and the monsters seems the best way. And that's exactly what they do.

Bitter herself is an interesting character. Once again, I really like how the different characters use different dialects - AAVE, standard English, et cetera. And in the narrative, it's just a different way of talking, it doesn't denote intelligence or lack thereof, which is always refreshing. Poor Bitter is a traumatised kid, having grown up in a series of abusive foster homes before coming to the art school where she now lives. She's very reluctant to get involved in the conflict, but she's still a very active and engaging protagonist. She makes her own choices, and it so happens that through most of the story, those choices are non-confrontational. It's an interesting dynamic, particularly as Jam was a lot more curious and willing to stick her nose in. It also informs Bitter's strong reaction to Pet's existence in Pet - she's had such a horrible experience before, no wonder she didn't like Pet. This story as a whole felt so self-contained, but for the reader who knows Pet, there are a lot of echoes and beats that are so similar to it. It's an interesting read! And I definitely enjoyed it.

Next…sigh. I promised House of Night wouldn't break me. So I guess I'm doing another one.

#Bitter #Akwaeke Emezi #bookblr #book blogger #book blog #4

[ravelights]

I posted 453 times in 2022

That's 403 more posts than 2021!

125 posts created (28%)

328 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@redoaktreehill

@gentrychild

@ravelights

@rain-coat-killer

@psychomurderz

I tagged 276 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#bnha - 164 posts

#all for one - 133 posts

#boku no hero academia - 57 posts

#midoriya izuku - 57 posts

#dad for one - 56 posts

#mha - 38 posts

#my hero academia - 32 posts

#yoichi shigaraki - 23 posts

#izuku midoriya - 22 posts

#bnha spoilers - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i actually didn’t look at the original while i was drawing i just remembered it from my head and was shocked to se how much i had changed

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So is the little villain au DFO? If so, it's hilarious to imagine AFO's reaction when he tracks down this new upstart villain who's been making a nightmare for the HPSC (good) but hasn't paid proper homage to him (bad), only to find out its his adorable five year old, founding a new criminal empire already! They grow up so fast! Now he can have all sorts of new daddy son experiences!

Yeah this is basically what happened, at first All for One thought someone was using Izuku because his son was five, but nope, Izuku did it all on his own. You can imagine the whiplash All for One got from finding this out, for a man that has seen everything that was a first. Although how I imagined them meeting changed this was originally the prompt for it:

All for One had been struggling through a unnecessarily hard process of meeting the boss of a growing villainess organisation, that seems to know how everything goes before it happens. But no matter how much All for One tried, the members refuse to let him have any contact with their leader. It isn't until after he forces his way into one of the organisations strong holds and finally come face to face with their mysterious leader did he realise why they been so relucted.

"What's wrong?" A four year old with green curly hair, and freckles yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Having just woken up from his afternoon nap, something he couldn't escape from these days.

All for One stared down at his four old son, sleepily tumble off his bed, blanket still in hand. "Oh" All for One whispered, not quite sure if he should be proud or angry, so he chose surprised instead.

582 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#4

I know it's not official so grain of salt; but this is really sus that AFO knows that A) Bakugou grew up watching All might winning and wanting to be just like him (to win). B) The fact that he also knows that Bakugou was blinded by his ego, instead of what Tomura though of before was that Bakugou was oppressed in hero society. And C) AFO knows that Bakugou feared being in Izuku shadow no matter how hard he tried to be stronger then Izuku.

it's disturbing that AFO knows so much about Bakugou fears that have stemmed from his childhood, and considering that Bakugou was friends with the doctors grandson, I have a feeling AFO been keeping an eye on Bakugou for a lot longer then realises.

674 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

#3

Please tell us more about tiny villain, time-traveller, Izuku. It’s a delightful au

Sure!

Some more funny facts over this:

-Despite being a five year old boy who looks like a cinnamon roll that could kill you, Nagant find Izuku miles better then her old employees and becomes the wine aunt group.

-She convinces Hawks to join them via hot gossip, chicken wings and the joint power of flipping off the commission together.

-All for One follows around Izuku when the boy is doing his jobs, so you have little pre-school Izuku running around trying to set up an organisation with All for One chilling in the background, occasionally helping Izuku reach tall places.

-This backfires one day when they run into All Might at the shops.

-Izuku stops Toya from exploding into flames by spraying water on him every time he burst into flames.

-Toya follows Izuku soon after, he say it's because of the fire resistance quirk he got, but Toya also set Izuku up to play with Shoto every now and again, so yeah.

-When AFO finds out Izuku ate the replica of his quirk to get it, he never lets the child live it down.

-Izuku also takes quirks from AFO, but never anyone else, he get's them ethically, like a good kid, AFO the exception.

-Izuku meets Tomura and humbles him real fast, but then Tomura also basically adopts Izuku as his little brother

-Inko is has an interesting backstory in this AU.

-Izuku doesn't know All for One is his dad, everyone else guess it five minutes into seeing them together.

-Doctor Ujiro and Izuku hate each others guts, but unfortunately the Doc is the only one who can treat the All for One quirk and Izuku injuries.

-Izuku lowkey ditches bakugou because there are more pressing matters and bakugou actually misses Izuku.

-Izuku really underestimates learning to control All for One the quirk.

730 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

#2

Izuku travels back in time fix it AU...with a twist.

11 pm idea that hit me one night (might have been done before but hey, here's my turn at the idea) Izuku is transported back into his Five year old self, and has the chance to do everything all over again; and makes things right this time...

But there are several problems getting in the way of saving everyone, namely that he's a quirkless five year old, that has none of his friends, allies or strength he had in his teens. All of them don't know he exist, plus half of them are toddlers. There's also a lot of stuff that won't happen until much later, not to mention he isn't sure how a lot of stuff came to be. He has no idea how Dabi survived were toga grew up, and Tomura has already killed his family four years prior and is living somewhere with All for One.

He knows won't get OFA until he's fifteen, and he's not even sure he might this time around. Because changing history means that All Might won't get injured and never have a reason to pass it on. Getting it when he's four would be impossible since he's young, and because people might not believe him when he say's he from the future, and can he blame them?

So after thinking over all the options, Izuku decides that if he can't be a hero, then he's going to be a villain...or at least pretend to be one so that he can stop the villains before they become huge threats. Basically Izuku decides to fight fire with fire, which he cranks up to 100 because he know a way to get a strong power that could go toe to toe with All for One and the person to go to get it from.

So Izuku sneaks into All for One doctors office and get's a hold of the replica of All for One quirk, with added hijinks. Now Izuku my have the replica nicely stored away in a glass tube, but he doesn't know how to acquire it... so he just decides to eat it because it worked the first time.

It's not meant to work like that, but for Izuku it does, after falling sick for like three days. Because eating a quirk wasn't the best idea. But who cares Izuku now got All for One, foresight on future events and his New villain career to kick off at the ripe old age of five.

And boy does he go off with a bang, by breaking Nagant out of Tartarus (Izuku needed a body guard, and Nagant was innocent), convincing hawks to run away from the HC (it was Nagant idea really) and recruiting the number two hero eldest son (Well Toya more recruited himself) among other things.

This unsurprisingly, this get's All for One's attention, but Izuku sure that he won't get caught because who would expect "quirkless five year old Deku" to the the next be up and coming villain? Apparently All for One, because the guy awkwardly walks in to his preschool one day, picks him up and is both quite shocked and amused to find this villain, that's been causing the Hero commission so much strife, is just a four year old boy.

Izuku thinks this might be the end, but instead of snipping of this bud before it grow, All for One decides he'll let Izuku keep doing what he's doing, because the whole things amusing. Except Izuku still "only a baby, not quite a big bad villain yet" so All for One will be "probably supervising" Izuku growth into villainy.

Izuku doesn't know weather to yell in joy at getting a one up on All for One or scream in anguish that now he's got the worst villain in the world making him his personal pet project.

Izuku decides to burn that bridge when he get's there.

I have more of this AU if anyone wants to know about it, but just baby toddler villain Izuku getting followed around by his older villain father, during his first errands. All dress up in his preschool uniform carry several books on "how to commit crimes and get away with it" well telling AFO to buzz off.

1,658 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fun chapter this week.

1,896 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[mattpoitrass6thgoal]

Next Season Outlook:

Bergeron: dude please I love you but for your health retire

Krejci: if he isn’t a Bruin he isn’t playing. I’ve seen people say about him going back to the Czech Republic but I’m pretty sure I read something that he doesn’t want to do that because his kids struggled over there especially since they grew up in a English speaking country it was difficult for them to get accustomed to life there. His in the bergy boat for me too, like I love you but the amount of injuries he gets for your health retire.

Reilly: fingers crossed he is able to be traded to another team or I’m just waiting for the buy out. Like come on Sweeney do it already, guy suffered through a providence season.

Forbort: please do the same as Reilly and try and trade him aswell the guy is only maybe 5% good during a game. Great on the PK sometimes but you have younger d players that need time and can play better than him.

Clifton: Cliffy, my cowboy I’m sorry to say this but if I see you again I will commit a crime.

Nosek: love Nosek and what he brings to a game but at his age it may be time to bring up a providence player to start getting rotations

Hathaway: grew to like his play, a good 4th line guy hard to see where he can get placed

Orlov: I liked him but he feels slightly committed to going back to the caps if they can organise it

Bertuzzi: he is looking for a payday which will be difficult for us with our negative 5 bucks. Sweeney will have to work his magic to organise this

Frederic: his a RFA, I want him back the guy was just starting to get into his groove this season so im excited. Get him on a good deal and I’ll be happy

Foligno: he’s gone which sucks grown to like the dude. Questioning what team would want to pick him up. Extremely injury prone, but a great veteran presence. Might be good a younger team on a cheap deal just not for us in this stage.

The goalies: I know people are saying one or the other are getting traded, we haven’t seen Bussi at NHL level so I don’t get why everyone is so ready for him to be brought up. I know Sway needs a payday, so I’m interested to see where this goes. If there’s one type of player the bruins produce well it’s a goalie.

For most of the bottom 6 forward groups it may be time to start looking at some prospects I’m interested mainly in bringing up Merkulov I feel he may be good a addition. Maybe Beecher to start getting experience for him. Fabian is still young I’d keep him down maybe brought up for emergencies at best.

Defensively, sucks to say but hopefully Sweeney can find a way to dump Mikes contract and get him onto an NHL team that could really use him. Forbort I’m iffy on sometimes really good for the PK but overall play just isn’t what I like to see. If Ahcan gets signed it may be his turn up to replace the Cliffy hole because if I see Cliffy again I will throw a brick at him. You’ve also got Lohrei could use him in emergencies but I’d love to see him get NHL time next season.

#kim talks to no one

[skymaiden32]

Out of This World

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @janetm74 @thundergeek59 (Feel free to ask if you would like to be added)

Enjoy! :3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Thunderbird 5’s control room turned from stunned silence, to organised chaos within a few seconds of everyone processing the news. Gordon had retreated to Thunderbird 3 with Brains, unable to get a grasp on the satellite’s controls, and to prepare the rocket for takeoff as soon as things were ready. John and Alan were in the cargo bay, preparing any supplies they might need to help Virgil refuel Thunderbird 2, leaving Scott to talk with their father about what was going on. 

Jeff’s face filled the screen, frowning all the while. “This is a problem.”

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t say…” The field commander sighed. “We’re working on getting some supplies and extra fuel together right now. We’re lucky he’s fairly close to Thunderbird 5.”

His father hummed, showing his age as he grunted in concern. “I bet he doesn’t have a lot of oxygen in there either…”

Scott sighed. “Not to mention we have no idea when a rescue call may come in.” 

Jeff sat in thought for a few moments, trying to think of a plan. He sighed. “Well, the best thing you guys can do is refuel Thunderbird 2 from 3. We better hope Thunderbird 2 doesn’t burn up on re-entry...” At Scott’s scandalous look, Jeff blanched and quickly backpedalled. “Not that it would, Brains most likely thought of that, plus he overengineers everything anyway.”

Scott hummed in concern. “Either way, I’d prefer if Virgil wasn’t in Thunderbird 2 when it’s ready to attempt re-entry. Thunderbird 2 can be rebuilt, but losing Virg isn’t an option at all.” The patriarch nodded.

“Fair enough.” He leaned back in his chair a little, relaxing now the plan to get all his boys back to safety was more solid. “I’d like you to stay in 5 to remotely pilot Thunderbird 2 back to Earth, Scott.”

Scott seemed a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be helping his brothers on the other side of the rescue, but he supposed someone had to stay and control Thunderbird 2 remotely. He nodded to his father, making to sign off. “FAB, Dad.” Just as he was about to switch off however, his father stopped him.

“Just a second, Scott. Is there something else you wanted to talk about?”

The eldest Tracy brother considered it, telling his father about how much the five of them wanted to have some bonding time as a whole group for the first time since International Rescue started. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago, but Scott shook his head. “No Father, it’s not that important right now.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow, and Scott could’ve sworn he saw the hint of an amused smile. His father knew him too well to think it wasn’t important. “Are you sure?”

Scott sighed. “Not as important as getting Virgil to safety and Thunderbird 2 out of orbit.” If at all possible, the eyebrow seemed to raise even more. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”

His father noticeably relaxed. “FAB, Scott. Over and out.” The screen winked out, and Scott turned round to the airlock just in time to see three of his brothers walk out the airlock, having prepared everything on board the faithful crimson rocket. Brains was nowhere to be seen, more than likely still on board Thunderbird 3. Gordon grinned at him, crossing his arms.

“So, what’s the plan, commander?”

Scott sent a small smirk the aquanaut’s way before entering his serious mode, folding his arms behind his back. “Thunderbird 2 is vital to International Rescue, but Virgil is vital to the Tracy family, so getting him back home safely is our main priority. This will be a three-pronged mission.” He glanced toward his two younger brothers. “Gordon and Alan, you two are going to be in charge of ship to ship refuelling. Fill her up as much as you can.” He turned his gaze to the most experienced astronaut out of all of them. “John, I’m counting on you and Brains to get Virgil out of Thunderbird 2 and onto Thunderbird 3. There’s a possibility, however small, that we could lose Thunderbird 2 on re-entry, and I’d rather not take that chance.”

John gave him a look, tilting his head to the side. “How do we get Virgil on board? There’s no escape hatch that’s vacuum proof, as far as I know.” Scott shook his head.

“Well, there wasn’t until after that so-called, ‘Vault of Death’ fiasco, as Gordon calls it.” Their fish-loving brother smirked mischievously. Scott chose to ignore him. “But after that, Brains got a little paranoid about the ‘Birds being in vacuum filled spaces with no other way out, so he incorporated some vacuum-proof escape hatches into each of the land-based Thunderbirds. Thunderbird 2’s one doubles as the top entrance hatch.” At John’s bewildered look, he felt the need to clarify. “The hatch that Virgil’s chute goes into.” John nodded in understanding, giving Scott a thumbs up. Alan peered around him.

“What about Thunderbird 2? It can’t re-enter the atmosphere by itself.”

“That’s where me and Thunderbird 5 come in. I’m gonna be remote piloting it from here once it’s been refuelled and Virgil’s safe on Thunderbird 3.” Gordon snorted, causing his family to look at him.

“If it ends up burning up, he’s not gonna be happy about that…”

John scoffed. “Well, he’s just gonna have to suck it up. It’s either that or we lose him as well, if that does happen.” Gordon glared, John stuck his tongue out in return, and Scott, sensing a fight about to brew, cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him.

“Save the sibling rivalry for when you guys get home, okay? We have a brother and his lady to save.” His brothers nodded in determination. “Alright, let’s get to work. Thunderbirds are go!”

His brothers filed out of the airlock as he turned his attention back to the readings on his dashboard, waiting to conduct his part of the mission already. That is, all but one. 

“Scotty?” His head turned automatically at the sound of his baby brother, and he raised an eyebrow. Alan continued. “Have you talked to Dad about the five of us spending some time together yet?”

Scott smiled sadly. “Not yet Sprout, but I definitely will once you guys have grabbed Virgil and Thunderbird 2 is back home, okay?” Alan nodded, seemingly satisfied, and made his way back to Thunderbird 3.

The eldest Tracy sighed once the airlock slid shut, and he saw the red ship slide out of Thunderbird 5’s docking port. All he had to do now was wait.

Too bad the anxious waiting was always the worst part of every mission for him…

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #jeff tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #virgil tracy #brains thunderbirds #elodie writes stuff #thunderbirds calendar 2022 project