#Shout out to the guy for having a main character fit at 7 that's fucking SICK

[weaponsdrawn]

when i was like 7 i fell in love with this autistic boy who loves dragons and pokémon and always wore the same blue v neck shirt and elastic jeans fit. like he had multiples of each item but it was his main character fit yfeel. then i moved away and we lost touch and i haven’t even seriously crushed on anyone since then BUT when i started fixating in ttcc i realized i had fallen in love with high roller in a sort of way and i find it funny. there’s no point to this story i just find it amusing lawl

i think the conclusion here is that you love fellas with a sparkly autism swagger I'm talking sparkly autism not literal sparkles but it's like oh fuck yeah ✨Autism✨

#queenie.txt #Honestly tbh you seem like someone #Who would vibe with the kids who had a dragon fixation #Shout out to the guy for having a main character fit at 7 that's fucking SICK #Also if it helps I think I've also unironically fallen in love with hr in a way y'know #I mean she's my wife #I've got two wives!!!!!!!! Ones a piano duck the other one is my gf who is so awesome #That's how it is to me tbh #This was rlly nice to hear thabjo you man :D /gen

[scover-va]

The fandom-determined The Hex Sexyman (among other things)

The google form has been open for, what, a month ish now? So I'm documenting the results now. Hoorah. Edit bc I forgot to add a read more and this is fairly long

Sexyman Results

Am I surprised by this one? No, absolutely not.

First place goes to Irving! I am in no way whatsoever surprised, I'm very aware of the grip that guy has on this fandom, so hey, kudos to him. Proud of him, or whatever. His prize here gets to be art. Kinda. If any of you have been following a recent trend here on good ol' Tumblr then I'm sure you know what to expect here.

Second place goes to both Lazarus and Vallamir, which I'm once again not surprised about in the least. I wouldn't exactly give mr wet paper towel of a man the title of sexyman, but hey, the guy probably has the highest or the second highest kill count of the main characters. So, he gets that. Vallamir doesn't surprise me, though. I mean all this in the nicest way possible btw

And then finally, third place goes to both Bryce and Lionel! Which! Both of those surprised me! Especially Lionel. But hey, glad to know y'all like him or whatever.

If enough people ask I'll add the written explanations for everyone's picks. I'm gonna wait til people say it's okay, just in case

Sexywoman Results

This one obviously had much slimmer pickings compared to the guys, and I would be lying if I said I was surprised by the results.

Sado gets first place, which was expected, she IS on the Sexypedia Wiki AND fits the criteria much better than a lot of other options. I mean. Colour palette, being evil, being chaotic, clown, suit, blah blah blah. She fits the bill perfectly, and I'm sure she'd be flattered. Or she'd kinkshame you guys. I don't know.

Rebecha got second place! Also not surprised! I'm, like, 99% convinced at least half of the fandom played the game post-Inscryption just for Rebecha content, so her coming up right behind Sado is NOT a surprise to me. She's fucking earned it though. Her reward is some goddamn sleep, because holy FUCK.

And then third place goes to Chandrelle, which to be fair, she's the only remaining reoccurring female character with a design. So, her getting third doesn't surprise me, especially since she's up against Sado and Rebecha.

And also shout out to my girlfriend, who voted every single female character. Without her, Catarina, Town Girl, Trish, and The Kraken would be forgotten about. Which, fair. Catarina appears the most out of the four by a whopping, what, 5 or so times? Maybe 6 or 7. Actually now that I'm thinking about it she does kinda pop up a considerable amount. Huh. Anyways,

Dilf Responses

And surprising no one at all with who got the most votes for this,

Rust! Who's winning by a whopping 60%! Good on him, he's earned it, despite technically not having a kid anymo-

And while Reggie getting a couple votes doesn't surprise me, VERY surprised to see the gay dads both get a vote each. By different people, too! But they've been through a lot, they've earned it.

Genderless Swag Results

A simpler one than above, but the canon nonbinary/agender character vs the one who's commonly hc'ed to be nonbinary.

I'm not really surprised. I mean, Steambot Willy's never acknowledged by the fans meanwhile FPP obviously is, so hey! I'm just happy to see Steambot Willy managed to score two votes. Good on them <3

Babygirl Results

Now. Usually, this is where I'd insert an image, and continue on talking about it. But. For some reason, the short answer question results are formatted like. This.

So. I'll just list them

Lazarus: 6 votes

Lionel: 1 vote

Rust: 1 vote

I'm not surprised Lazarus is #1 babygirl, I mean LOOK AT HIM. Like one person said, he's a pathetic wet cat of a man. Absolute sopping wet piece of paper towel. He is THE malewife AND babygirl. No one's doing it like him. AND he scored second on the Sexyman section. Shout out to him fr, I'm so proud of him

Twink Results

Wizarro: 3 votes (Deserved. I mean, look at him)

Moji: 2 votes (Personality wise? Yeah I can see it)

Junior: 1 vote (Like father like son, ig?)

Rust: 1 (Fair. His dietary options in the Wastes couldn't have been the best)

Irving on account of people don't know what a twink is: 1 vote (God, yeah,,,Granted skinny dudes always get beef'd so ig it's a 2 way street. If the fandom was popular, Irving would DEFINITELY be woobified, though)

Reggie: 1 vote (Yeah fair he can't exercise and his diet probably consists mostly of fucking root beer. What the fuck, Reggie)

Closing Statement Or Whatever Idfk

And THAT, everyone, is the results. Obviously Lazarus got 10 votes on malewife, he was the only option because really, who's a better option than him? So he doesn't get his own section on that, but yeah! Again, I'll post the typed up explanations if people want me to, up to you guys! But that's about it for now. Expect some celebratory art for Irving soon

#the hex #the hex game #scov.txt #im never doing this again /j #im not tagging everyone. thats too much #daniel mullins games #this has been a scientific experiment brought to yall by urs truly. im gonna go collapse now #the hex sexyman results #tagged in case anyone wants to find them in the future #including myself in case i edit this

[justineangelrococo]

I posted 6,740 times in 2022

That's 4,486 more posts than 2021!

16 posts created (0%)

6,724 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@funnytwittertweets

@werewolfbarista

@1percentcharge

@daily-cat-memes

@jenorca-archived

I tagged 254 of my posts in 2022

#the lady speaks - 8 posts

#scp - 8 posts

#from the palace - 7 posts

#black panther - 7 posts

#diy - 6 posts

#goncharov - 6 posts

#the owl house - 5 posts

#black panther 2 - 5 posts

#michael jackson - 5 posts

#dr common - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#never tell a customer why the item was not on sale.  instead of going 'oh i see' they just want you to die

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ok gonna copy and paste the majority of my recent owl house theories and thoughts so

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ALRIGHTY EVERYONE ANOTHER CARTOON BANGER TWEET COMING YOUR WAY FOR THE OWL HOUSE

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THEORY TIME🌔🌛🌞🌚🌝

me and friend were talking and me looking and thinking about the collector made me realize he has a lot of traits people wouldn't like from peter pan, the main one being of how childish he is or the proper representative of a child, children don't know empathy at a certain age and have to learn it.

The collector from what we have seen is very much a child or like it, they are bored, they wanna play, they would burn ants if they could.

They are waiting on a chance to have fun, every scene with them they act and give that vibe of a child. But we know that is no God damn child. That is something ancient, powerful and like a child no real concept of what's good or bad so they go for what's fun even if it hurts others, unless it's a act.

But let's say for now it's not, the collector is far too powerful to be left on their own. The titan knew that the collector could not be left alone think of what it was like and the chaos of what they did. So much so that the titan trapped them beneath their own body, Belos is the type of guy to think he is in control at all times, but this, this is a powerful child one with powers Belos can't just compete with, the collector has been helping Belos because they think it's fun.

That this is all a game and more than likely thinks of Belos of a fun toy till the next thing comes along, Belos may not be a witch, but he does fit the bill for a warlock and his patron will toss him away when given the chance.

But also look at how much of jester the collector looks like, they give off a silly clown vibe. Also a shout out to my friend Koi for pointing out the dislike of wizards on the isles and that maybe the collector is a wizard thank you this has been my theory.

🌚🌝🌛🌞

And if you find my twitter congrats now *Shush* you didn't.

11 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#4

I'mma put this here and twitter

In light of the new twst character being the "priest" I would kindly ask disney not the blorbo or uwu the villain from pocahontas that man is a colonizer

12 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

#3

ALRIGHTY COMING WITH A NEW CARTOON THEORY, MAINLY FOR THE OWL HOUSE SPOILER WARNING

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ALRIGHT THEORY TIME AFTER SEEING WHAT OLD RACIST COLONIZER GASLIGHT BITCHLOS, from what we can see in the background of the latest episode the hollow mind. We see who Bitchlos really is and more this theory is going to touch on some things.

We know the brothers got stuck and as belos said he is a witch hunter, but I wonder if he started off that way, this theory points out things we see in the background mainly his older brother who from what we can tell met a witch and fell in love. They got married and she was obviously pregnant at the time, and Bitchlos being a racist asshole who more than obviously has control issues and mega narcissism couldn't deal with the fact his brother thought he could just leave him and marry and have kids with one of those less than human witches?!

This man like any other racist is totally fucking pissed as someone who comes from a family who racist family members said fuck you to my side this gives me those vibes.

He feels possession of his brother, and so indoctrinated on what they were taught that he was willing to kill him. But him being Bitchlos couldn't accept that he did this to his brother he blames those witches they seduced him with their magic and wild ways, he had no choice their magic was too strong.

But we know he wants to end all magic he cares not for witches and he may not be talking to the titan he's talking to the collector who is trapped under the titan.

My theories for now are that the witch we saw is Eda and Lilith's grandmother or great grandmother, and that some how some way they are related to Bitchlos.

Flapjack choose Hunter because he is the closest to looking like his previous Master, Bitchlos brother, and remember birds are a clawthorne palisman type. He has a grudge against the Clawthornes is because they are a remnant of his deceased brother and the witch who stole him from him.

This is not including on hunter pointing out Darius looking sad, and him saying he knew the previous golden guard, who was his mentor.

Look we are in pain and Dana I am scared, we love you Dana 💖💋

26 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

People really getting mad at folks shipping Shuri x Namor, talking about it being predatory with him being 500 years old, but at the same time not batting a eye and thor and Jane, lord forbid any vampire fics, or *cough*Twilight*cough* people are excited and we know he did what he did without spoilers people can just stop before he did what he did write fanfics where it doesn't happen, this isn't to say that other ships aren't bad, like I like Shuri x Riri, but also Shuri x namor hits differently.

I hate to say it but we don't see a lot of poc characters getting this much love or hype a lot of times, and fandoms tend to not treat poc characters well, and I just feel weird people are saying shipping this is awful and predatory, because of him, it's calling a poc man a predator when he has done nothing to her in that kind of way.

Also we understand the message and the importance of the film, but at the sametime let people have fun there are so many other movies that have a important message, and people let them go ahead with their fun like it's no problem but when it comes two poc characters now everyone has a problem.

Everyone Chill out have fun enjoy the film it was made to be enjoyed, ship some characters that I will once again both legal ages have fun.

Ps,

I look forward to all the reader inserts keep me fed beloveds💖❤️‍🔥♥️💖❤️‍🔥💖

64 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I saw the invitation I'mma need more of that, black female horror movies like that it's a spot that I don't really get filled. So yeah I'mma need ya'll to watch it so we can get more movies like that. We need more black horror brides or with romantic overtones with horror.

141 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[reidgraygubler]

bowling shoes (franklin/reader)

Title: Bowling Shoes

Request:  yes! It was requested by the wonderful @sunlight-moonrise​​

Couple: franklin (mgg’s role in beginner’s luck)/fem!reader

Category: smut

Content Warning:  SEXUAL CONTENT (degradation, praise kink, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, little bit of cockwarming ;), spanking, heavy petting, slight humiliation (i think), spitting, hair pulling, groping, creampie/unprotected sex, fingering, penetrative sex), dom!franklin, kissing/making-out, swearing, implied age gap (but they never specify Franklin’s age. So idk) (if i missed anything that needs to be tagged, PLEASE let me know!!)

Word Count: 4,224

Summary:  Reader is new in town and works at her grandfather’s bowling alley, where some people spend late nights practicing for the town-wide bowling competition.

A/N: The third day of my seven days of seven fics! This particular one shot has been sitting in my wip list since September 2020. And I just finally decided to write it. This was written with matthew gray gubler’s character from the short film Beginner’s Luck. If you haven’t seen it yet I highly recommend watching it bc it’s amazing and I love Franklin. I hope you’re all enjoying the 7 days 7 fics! I really cranked it out on all of these oneshots! Here is the masterlist for that! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!  

{***}{***}{***}

Little Falls… I never understood this town's love for bowling… and I probably never will… It’s probably a good thing that I moved from Little Falls before I got old enough to actually learn how to bowl, mostly because if I did, and I didn’t bowl, I’d probably be chased out of town with a crowd of pitchforks and torches.

So, it’s probably an even better thing that I just work at the town’s precious bowling alley. But, to be fair… This alley has been in the family since it opened. 

Long story short, I hate bowling. I just needed extra cash, and my grandfather just so happens to pay me extra. Not because I’m fami-No that’s exactly why...

“You are busting my balls here!” A man shouted from the lanes. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked in that direction, looking for the owner of the shouts. I gently placed the pair of shoes down on the counter before walking around to the lanes. “You can’t be serious!” A guy wearing a yellow bowling shirt was shouting down the lane he was standing on. 

“Is… Is everything okay?” I leaned against the half-wall beside me. I propped my arms on top of the wall as I looked at him. I looked across the tables behind the lanes and noted there was only one other person, who was watching the man with such intent I was sure they’d kill him. “It’s just you playing,” I half-laughed at the guy. He spun around on his toes and pointed a finger at me. I tried to not take it as accusatory, but everything in my body was telling me he meant it as such.

“I would have gotten that pin down if it wasn’t for you,” he half-shouted at me. I lifted my hands as some form of surrender as I stepped down to the lanes. The guy in the yellow bowling shirt looked at me and cocked his head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just came down here to see if everything was alright… And if it was, I was just going back to work… Cleaning smelly rental, bowling shoes,” I gestured back towards the counter where a pile of rental shoes was sitting, waiting to be cleaned. “I just heard all the shouting down here and wanted to make sure someone wasn’t fighting with the balls,” I shrugged as I looked up at him. My joke about the balls was only mildly humorous if you knew that there were only 3 people in total in the alley. Myself, the angry stranger, and his unusual friend.

Glasses that kinda reminded me a little of Jeffery Dahmer sat on the tip of his nose, and just under his nose was a porn-stache. And the way he styled his hair just looked like a mop sitting on his head. But there was something, I don't know, attractive (I guess it was attractive) about this man. A certain handsomeness that I couldn’t exactly describe. 

“No, no, no one was fighting with the balls,” he spoke as he stepped closer to me. He looked down at me with a smile before resting both his hands on my shoulder. I sighed deeply as I stared up at him. “Now, go, run along… You said you have rental shoes to clean,” he smiled as he turned me around to face the 3 steps behind us. 

“Hold on,” I stepped away from him and turned back to face him. I had to crane my neck up to meet his stare, him being nearly a foot taller than me. “I can easily kick you out of here,” I scoffed as I looked at his shirt, finally noticing the patch sewn into the pocket of his shirt. The name Franklin was stitched into the patch with black thread in a fancy script. “Franklin,” I looked up at him and smiled. The cocky and smug expression on his face faltered for a moment as he looked at me. 

“Oh, aren’t you’re so cute,” he brought his hands to rest on my cheeks before squeezing them together, pushing my lips out. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked as he cocked his head to look down at me. I couldn’t exactly answer with my words, so I just nodded lightly. My eyes never left his face, and his never left mine.

“There’s just one thing you’re missing then. I own this place. This bowling alley... Is mine,” he kept his voice low as he spoke and the smugness returning, “Do you understand, Sunshine,” he asked, the condescension in his tone really coming out with the pet name he used. I tried to laugh and shake my head before I pulled away from his grasp. I stumbled back, nearly falling over the steps behind me.

“Since when are you my grandpa?” I asked, cocking my head to my shoulder. I could feel a teasing smile grow on my lips as I looked at him. His face shifted from being very smug to being shocked. “Yeah, bet you didn’t see that one coming… Did ya, Franklin,” I smiled at him. 

Franklin stepped back away from me but kept his stare on my face. “You’re not Hank’s grandkid. I would know when his grandkid would be here,” he pointed at me as he backed away from me. I snickered and shrugged.

“Well, you’d be wrong,” I smiled as I folded my arms over my chest. Franklin looked over his shoulder at his companion, seeking some sort of backup. But it was clear that she had no intentions in answering, she was far too busy just admiring him. How did he not see this as uncomfortable and wrong? 

“Aw, now you’re intimidated by the bowling alley girl? I don’t even bowl,” I scoffed before pulling my eyes off him, “I just work here,” I laughed. Franklin looked genuinely offended by my statement. Again, I don’t understand this town’s love for bowling.

“I’m sorry… What did you just say?” he looked at me and furrowed his eyebrows. Oh, I really did offend him… Do I feel sorry? Not really...

“Oh, yeah, you heard that right. It’s stupid. And, frankly, Franklin, I don’t understand how a town so quaint is so obsessed with throwing a ball at some plastic things,” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. He stepped closer to me, and for the briefest of moments, I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. And suddenly a tension was in the air between us. It was suffocating. “Did I make you mad? Did I piss poor Fwankwin off,” I furrowed my eyebrows and pouted, "Did I huwt your feewings," my head falling back as I broke into a fit of laughter.

“Be quiet,” Franklin scoffed as he stared at me. I felt my smile become a little smug as I looked up at him. 

“Oh? Really? Why don’t you make me?” I shrugged and stepped closer to him. We were so close, breathing each other’s air. One step from either of us and our chests would be pressed together. Our toes, however, were touching. His rented bowling shoes barely standing on my canvas shoes. 

That was when the air tensed even more. But, the level of tension shifted from an awkwardness… to a certain awkward-sexual tension. I personally loved it because he’s a dick. Men like him need to be messed with. Plus, I’m bored...

“Is that what you want me to do?” his voice was lower than before. My smile fell away and I swallowed roughly. I could feel my heart in my throat, cutting off any words I wanted to say. “Oh, I see how it is. All that snark and attitude is fake. Because the second someone… An older man, maybe, says something… It goes away,” he smirked as he slowly brought a hand to my face. I went to move my face away from his touch, but failed when he forced me to look at him.  

“You’re a brat,” he whispered as he kept his eyes on me. A shiver went down my spine and I had to press my legs together, slightly shifting my feet. I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling my breathing pick up slightly. 

And the moment was ruined before I even got the chance to say something. It seemed as if we both had forgotten something. Rather, someone. 

“We should get going, Franklin,” a voice asked from behind him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and pulled his hand from my face. It was obvious we both forgot that someone else was here. We were both so involved with each other that we just forgot about his companion. After a brief moment of awkward silence, he opened his eyes and looked at me, sighing deeply before speaking.

"I'm gonna be here late. You should just go home," Franklin spoke to his companion but kept his eyes strictly on me. His friend looked up at him like he was some sort of celebrity. I wasn’t exactly sure why she was staring at him like that. He wasn’t a god or anything. Unless he was, then I’d be screwed.

"It's okay. I can wait,” she smiled as she longingly looked at him. I looked back at Franklin before nodding to his friend. I’m starting to think she wasn’t even a friend of his… just a creepy and overly-devoted fan. I don’t think Franklin even noticed her obsession. “I’ll always wait for you, Franklin,” she murmured. I shifted on my foot before I stepped back.

“Bomber,” he spoke, turning to look at her. He looked down at her, his eyes telling her to leave. I only know that because Bomber (I suppose that’s her name) gathered her things and quickly left the alley. “Sorry, now where were we, Sunshine?” 

“Your friend seems nice,” I muttered, looking away from him for a brief moment. Franklin scoffed out a laugh before shaking his head.

 “She’s not a friend, just a teammate,” his voice was low as he brought a hand back to my face. Part of me was expecting him to be gentle, and I’m not really sure why I thought that. So when he jerked my head back up to look at him, I was left in shock. “But, that wasn’t where we left off. Bomber’s gone now,” he dropped his head down and looked at me through his eyelashes. 

“Which means we’re alone now,” I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He smiled and nodded lightly before bringing my face closer to his.

“Now you’re getting it,” he returned the whisper before harshly pressing his lips to mine. I couldn’t help but moan as he pulled me closer to his body. It was so hard to keep my focus on the world around us. My knees carefully buckled beneath me. If it weren’t for Franklin, I probably would have fallen to the ground. He stood his ground firm, like he was a brick wall in the wind, keeping me upright as I almost fell to the ground. 

He moved his face away from mine, but we were still close enough to feel each other’s breath. Franklin moved his free hand to my hip before carefully pushing it past the waistband of my pants. My body shifted slightly, trying to get more of his touch against me.

“The… The door,” I whispered, my eyes going to the door. Although, I truthfully didn’t care too much about the door and it being unlocked. The bowling alley closes in 5 minutes anyways.

“Who cares about the fucking door,” he muttered. I instantly looked back at him, feeling a whimper work its way out of my mouth. Franklin smiled as he moved his hand against the flimsy cotton blocking his hand from where I wanted it most. 

“Please,” I whispered, moving my hips against his hand. I hated the way he smiled. Mostly because it only further turned me on.

“Ohh, you’re such a needy slut. So wet and I’ve barely done anything,” he whispered as he squeezed my cheeks again. “You’ll get what you want, in due time,” he smiled. He pushed my underwear to the side and carefully moved his fingers between my folds. I couldn’t help myself as I ground down on his hand.

“Franklin,” I whimpered, my eyebrows furrowing slightly. He smirked, watching as I struggled for a moment. His finger slowly moving around the sensitive bud at the apex of my legs. My hands quickly held his arms, I was worried I’d fall if I didn’t hold onto him. My legs and knees became more and more wobbly as time passed.  

“Don’t cum till I tell you you can, Pretty Girl,” he whispered and pouted, “how about you open that pretty little mouth of yours, Sunshine,” he whispered, moving one of his hands to rest on my chin. I widened my eyes and took a deep breath.

I kept my eyes on him, a shaky breath leaving me, as I slowly opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out. Franklin smiled slightly before holding my cheeks and spitting right onto my tongue. He nudged my mouth shut, forcing me to hold his spit in my mouth for a moment. I had to force myself not to gag as I held his spit before swallowing it. 

“What a good little whore,” Franklin cooed, cocking his head to his shoulder. I took a shaky breath as his movements in my pants picked up pace. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked at me. I wanted to have a snarky reply, I really did. But I swear to god, my mouth and body betrayed me because an honest to god moan came from me. 

“Oh, you certainly did enjoy that,” he laughed as his movements in between my legs quickened. I looked up at him with wide eyes as a familiar tension grew in my abdomen.

But instead of saying anything else, he just put his mouth over mine, swallowing whatever sounds emitted from my mouth. He smiled, clearly enjoying my mild suffering. 

My body struggled to move, almost missing the sign of Franklin moving. On wobbly legs, my feet carried me backwards, and with Franklin's guidance, up the steps. My arms were wrapped around his neck to keep close to him. 

I was so close, I could feel the tension about to snap within me. The noises that were coming from me were becoming more desperate the closer I got to the snap. Franklin didn't seem bothered by my sounds at all. In fact, he was amused. 

He was so amused, that when he pulled his hands from my pants and pushed me over the counter, he laughed when I cried out. I wasn't sure the sound was from annoyance from him stopping, or from shock from being pushed down over the counter. His hand was firmly placed on my back, keeping me in place.

“What was that for!?” I shouted, trying to stand back up, only to be forced back down by Franklin, “You better do something better than leaving me high and dry! I swear to God!” I shouted as I wiggled my butt into his crotch. A certain hardness pressed into my butt and leg, causing me (and Franklin) to hold back a groan. Franklin’s hand was still around my waist, planted firmly on my hip to hold me against him. “Please, just fuck me already! Fuck!” I shifted my feet a bit and tightly pressed my thighs. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Franklin laughed as he shoved his knee between my legs, blocking his foot between mine to keep my legs apart more, “If you’re going to finish, you’re gonna finish on my cock. You got that, Sunshine?” he groaned as he pressed his front into my butt more. I bit my lips together, nodded and whined, hoping that was a good enough answer. “Uh huh, use your words, Sunshine. Do you understand that?” he asked as he leaned closer to my ear.

“Yes! Yes, I understand! Please,” I whimpered as his grip loosened on my hip and moved to the button of my jeans. I let out a deep relieved sigh as my jeans fell to the ground around my ankles. Although my moment of relief and excitement was cut short by a loud crack in the air, and a sudden pain on my bottom. 

“Fuck!” I gasped once I finally regained the ability to talk and breathe. My chest began heaving as my body started to get more worked up. The sudden smack on my ass went straight to my core, causing me to involuntarily moan. Franklin laughed lightly, and I could just see him shaking his head in amusement.

“What do you want, Sunshine?” Franklin asked, his voice low, lower than before. I swallowed roughly before lifting my head slightly.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, trying hard to look over my shoulder at him. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and his hair was covering his eyes. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and swept across his lower lip.

“Wrong,” he muttered before striking my butt again. A pleased shriek fell from my lips as I dropped my head down to the counter. “What do you want,” 

“Franklin, please,” my words were soft as my breathing got rougher, “Fuck me, please, do… Do whatever you-you want… To me,” my statement was punctuated by another strike on my ass. A mix of a cry and a moan escaped my lips as he gently rubbed the sore spot on my bottom. But it was only a moment before he smacked my other butt cheek. 

“Do it again! Please,” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. I waited for his hand to make contact with my bare bottom again, but instead, I got nothing. I sucked in a deep breath before letting out a soft whimper, “Please,” I begged as I swayed my hips slightly from side to side. I hoped my begging would have given me what I wanted. But at this point, I’m not sure what I wanted more, to be fucked by him, or to be spanked by him over, and over again.

After he spanked my butt for the 6th time, Franklin’s hand grazed over each cheek before lightly dragging his fingers over my core. 

“You’re so wet, Sunshine,” he whispered as he moved his fingers over my cunt. Any response I thought I had gone out the window when he pushed two fingers into my entrance. So, I guess my response came in as a moan. “Fuck,” he groaned with pleasure.  

I was in trouble. He knew that too. The way he was playing with me, toying with me to get even the slightest reaction. Trying to get me as close as possible, without actually getting me over the edge. But whenever he curled his fingers just right, or just slightly touched my clit. 

“I-I’m so close,” I cried, my body moving closer to him. Franklin laughed again as he pulled his hand away from my body. This was the first time tonight that he wasn’t touching me. His hands were away from me, and as I tried to move closer to him I found nothing.

“Stay still, I want to remember this moment,” Franklin muttered as he rested a hand on my lower back, “Are you ready, Sunshine,” he asked, his tone seemed gentle. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Mmm-hmm, yes,” I nodded, feeling my hair move around before finally falling around my face. My body shivered as the sound of his zipper went down. And my body jerked once his hands were on my hips. 

I folded my arms on the counter. But what I should have done was brace myself against it in a better way. My body’s excitement was getting the better of me, and I could feel myself stray from the counter, and slowly towards his body.

“Stay still,” he muttered as he pushed me closer to the counter. My lungs ceased to function as I felt him rub the head of his cock against my slit. I choked back a moan and pressed  my lips together. And then he slowly began pushing into my entrance.

“Oh god,” I cried, pressing my face into my arms. 

“Name’s Franklin, but God works just fine,” he laughed behind me as he slowed his entrance. I gasped as he stopped, before slamming fully into me in one go. I couldn’t stop the shout that came from the pit of my stomach.

Once we were both used to each other, he started moving, his hips quickly finding a rhythm we were both pleased with. The silent room was quickly occupied by the grunts or moans from its only two occupants, and the sound of skin hitting skin.

I slowly lifted my head, looking out at the bowling alley. Is it bad that I didn’t think that this was weird or bad? That I was being fucked over the counter by a guy I just met? What would my grandfather think if he ever knew about this? Good thing he was never going to find out.

Franklin wrapped my hair around his hand before pulling me back up so my back was flush against his chest. His movements stilled, his hips pressed against mine as he stayed totally in me. My body froze like ice as I tried to take a deep breath. My senses were suddenly overwhelmed, and I honestly loved it. 

“Fuck,” I cried, pushing my hips against him to get some sort of relief. But I only groaned as he wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me still as well. “Please,”

“So greedy, so filthy,” Franklin groaned as he buried himself deeper into me. I whimpered as I bit my lips. The bitter, metallic taste of blood found its way to my tastebuds. “How does that feel? Does it feel good,” his voice was so low, nearly a growl in my ear. I sucked in a deep breath of air, slowly turning my face to look at him. “Just holding my cock in you?” he asked before pressing his lips harshly to the side of my face. 

“I… I do…” I spoke quickly and in a harsh whisper. My muscles clenched around him, wanting something to give me help for my finish. While Franklin kept his lips pressed to the side of my face, while his hands were otherwise preoccupied. One hand was holding one of my breasts, gently kneading at it. While the other was between my legs, slowly moving around my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, please move,” I whimpered, pressing my shoulder into his shoulder a bit more. Franklin removed his hand from my chest before gently pushing me back over the counter. I let out a pleased moan once he started moving his hips again. It only took a matter of moments before the tension in me snapped, sending me over the edge. My vision turned white, and my hands balled into fists, my nails would cause indentations in my palms once my hands relaxed.

And, after a few more faulty thrusts into me, Franklin finished close behind me. His body hunched over mine, his hands holding himself up on the counter beside me. Neither of us wanted to move, still trying to calm down from what just happened. But also, the mess to follow once he finally stepped away from me. 

“I didn’t know I needed that,” I truthfully stated. Franklin laughed before standing upright. I’d be lying if I said I wanted him to step away from me. So when he eventually did, I held back the whimper. 

“Paper towels?” he asked as he fixed himself back into his pants. I swallowed roughly as I blindly pointed towards where I was cleaning the rental bowling shoes. He stepped away from me, going to grab the things he sought after. 

The mixture of the two of us slowly leaked down my inner thigh, and I just knew that mess would not be fun to clean, now or later. When Franklin returned and wiped a damp paper towel up my thigh, I jumped. 

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked as he helped me stand up straight. My legs and knees were so shaky, I almost fell. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me upright. I only struggled a little bit to pull my jeans and underwear back up, but I was very relieved when they were back around my waist.

“I had a great time,” he laughed. I swallowed roughly before stepping back away from him. I hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the counter, only to let out a sharp cry and jump off the counter. How the fuck did I forget about the pain on my ass?

“Did it feel like winning?” I asked, feeling a smile grow on my lips. Franklin looked up at me with a sly smile, cocking his head to his shoulder.

“I always win in this bowling alley, Sunshine,” he muttered as he stared at me. I blinked slowly. “Except for that one time. But every time after… Always a win,”

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow posts stuff #shadow writes stuff #franklin #franklin smut #franklin fanfiction #franklin fanfic #franklin x reader #beginners luck #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gray gubler smut #masterlist

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part5)

Warning - smut (always)

Taglist Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x

You'd spent the rest of that afternoon discussing your characters, and rehearsing your rewritten scenes together. The new dynamic working well for you both off screen and on, and both Steve and the Director Anto couldn't help but be impressed at the new found chemistry the two of you had together over the last week. James, the assistant director, had pulled Cillian away for a chat in his trailer, and he had a face like thunder when he came out afterwards.

"Hey... You okay?" You bumped into him as he was walking back to his trailer.

"I'm good." He squeezed your arm, but carried on walking away from you.

"James had a word then." Sophie's voice behind you startled you.

"About what?"

"There's rumours flying around - about the two of you, have you not heard them?"

"What rumours?"

"The two of you? Sleeping together?" You scoffed at her.

"God, don't be ridiculous Soph, he's nearly 20 years older than me for goodness sake..."

"Y/n... Just be careful. Okay?" You were stunned - what business was it of anyone's who you shared a bed with? You looked round to see if anyone was nearby, wanting to go to his trailer but there were cast and crew members everywhere. You headed to your own trailer instead.

"Sophie told me what James said Cill..." You texted him, sitting down on your sofa.

"Why can't I just be allowed to move on? Why is there always something that's standing in my way huh?" A quick reply.

"What do we do?"

"If he finds out we're together off camera it could cause you real problems y/n. He sees it as massively unprofessional.. thinks it'll affect the way we are together.. I think it's fucking bullshit personally, you're playing my wife for god's sake..."

"Not married yet Cill... That's next week's scene."

"We need to spend less time together off set.. we're clearly raising suspicions." Your heart lurched, but you knew what he said made sense. At least until filming finished next week, then it was no one's business what happened.

"Okay... Gonna be hard though.."

"Can't wait til I can see you again properly xx"

"Me too. I've seen Clara's wedding dress already, it's beautiful Cill xx"

"Not as beautiful as you will be in it xx"

"I'm heading back to Ireland for a couple of days in the morning - mam's birthday. I'll be back Sunday night xx"

"I'm heading to my sister's place in Liverpool tonight. Wish I could spend it with you though xx"

"Me too babe. Gonna be a long weekend without you xx"

The weekend was the longest you'd been apart since day one of filming, and it was just as difficult as you thought it would be. You'd tried not to bother him so he could spend time with his family, but he couldn't get enough of you. He'd send you photos of him and his brother drinking in Cork city, you replied with photos of you and your sister in Liverpool.

You were waiting onset, your hair pristine, makeup done, and the long, white, flowing dress fitted to perfection, even over the small 'bump' you were wearing underneath your dress - Clara was 5 months pregnant. You hadn't had chance to see Cillian since his return the night before - his flight back had been delayed and he didn't get in until nearly 3am. All you were waiting for was Paul Anderson, his character Arthur, was to walk you down the aisle, after your onscreen father had been killed off in an earlier episode. Paul came onset and couldn't take his eyes off you. He pulled you close for a gentle hug, earning a glare from your hair and makeup lady Jenny. He chuckled and pulled away, before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Cillian's a very lucky man, and I hope to god he realises that y/n." You pulled back sharply, shaking your head.

"There's nothing between me and Cill, Paul.." he winked at you and offered you his arm, ready to film the scene. Jenny came over to fix your veil over your head, covering your face. The main director, Anto, called Action, and the wedding march music played. The doors to the small newly built chapel opened and you and Arthur walked down the aisle. You could see Cillian in his navy blue suit at the end, his eyes on you. You could almost feel the emotion radiating from him.

You stood next to him, and he lifted the veil over your head. You could tell he was fighting Cillian, and trying to remain as Tommy, but he couldn't stop himself winking at you when he knew the camera wouldn't be on him, making you blush. His eyes also wandered down to the bump under your dress, and you could tell it was bringing back painful memories for him, but he held it together to get the scene done.

The scene complete, it was time for the cast to move onto the reception set. You were about to walk with everyone before an arm pulled you behind a curtain.

"Paul's covering me for 10minutes, y/n, I needed to see you..." His lips were on yours in seconds, as he pulled you down a small set of steps into a secluded backstage room. Locking the door behind him, he pulled you back to him quickly. You could feel how hard he was underneath the trousers and you gasped as he started to hitch your dress up your legs.

"Fuck.. Cillian we can't do this here..."

"We've got... 7 minutes.. yes we can..." He spun you round and leaned you over an amplifier, must've been a spare for the music they needed for the wedding scene. Lifting your dress over your hips, you heard him unzip his trousers and line himself up against you.

"No underwear?" He questioned.

"Tight fitting dress... Shit..." He pushed himself in and quickly built up a powerful rhythm. You'd gone on the pill after your little mishap earlier that month.

"Fuck.. you got tighter.."

He pounded into you, you had to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your much needed orgasm was building rapidly, as you heard him panting behind you, his hips snapping into you harder.

Before you knew it, you came hard over him, and he followed quickly with a deep groan - hot streams of cum flowing into you like a fountain. He pulled out slowly, and you felt a tissue between your legs as he cleaned you up - you couldn't risk a trace of anything being left on you before you did the next scenes. He zipped his trousers up and helped to pull your dress back down, checking both of you over to make sure you still looked as you did before, incredibly you did. He pulled you to stand, and adjusted the bump under your dress slightly.

"You look beautiful, y/n. You really do."

"You look so handsome in that suit Cill..." He kissed you, his hand lingering on the bump a little longer. You felt butterflies, you couldn't help it. Separating, you made your way to the next scene.

Walking into the set, you could see James eyeing you from the corner suspiciously. Cillian was already there, stood with Paul having their hair and makeup readjusted slightly for the new lighting. Jenny waved for you to come to her for the same thing. The penultimate scene for the cast and crew.

You and Cillian were wrapped up in each others arms that evening on the sofa in his hotel room, some cheesy 90s horror film on the TV, but neither of you really paying much attention to it.

"Babe, I think we need to talk..." He said, as he pulled back and you sat up, fingers still entwined with his as you played with the hard skin by his thumb nail.

"Sounds ominous..."

"Filming ends tomorrow... James has already threatened to go to the press about us if we don't stop this.."

"What are you saying, Cill?" You released his hand, preparing yourself for the worst.

"Y/n this is your dream.. and I can't be the one to end that for you.. but at the same time I can't be the one to end this either. I need to know what it is you want? The press will eat us alive - there's 20 years between us.."

"I want you." Not even a glimmer of doubt. "I've been thinking long and hard about this all weekend. If I have to choose Cillian, I choose you. Every time. I don't care about the tabloids."

"Your career -"

"My career means nothing if I don't have you beside me! Don't you want me?"

"Of course I want you, that's not even a question.."

"Then what's the issue? Steve is one of the nicest guys in the industry and he ADORES you.. surely he can't feel the same way as James? I'm sick of sneaking around, pretending like nothing is going on between us! I wanna shout it from the rooftops! I want to be with you properly, and if that means I take a beating from the tabloids then so be it. If it means I'm not in series 2, so be it. There will always be other stories, other roles - there will never be another you..." You leaned forward and captured his lips in yours. He returned the kiss, and pulled you into his lap.

"I'm falling for you.. in fact no, I've fallen for you. Completely. Seeing you in that dress, with the bump underneath.. even though you were Clara, all I saw was y/n. I saw everything. Our future - what could be. It terrifies me but excites the shit outta me at the same time."

"Cillian.. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

"I love you. I'll sort this. Let me talk to Steve tomorrow. James clearly had this weird little power trip going on.. but I'll sort it. You'll be in series 2, I promise you that."

"Even if I'm not - "

"Y/n, I'm executive producer of series 2 - trust me, you'll be in it." You smiled.

"And the press?"

"Fuck the press."

"I'd rather fuck you?" He grinned and kissed you again. Deepening the kiss as you grinded your hips into his, that erection pushing into your core with each push.

"You coming to Ireland with me when we wrap up tomorrow?"

"Try and stop me."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x smut

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard

Part 2

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: It’s the day of Pooch’s wedding, emotions are running high and it all comes to a dramatic conclusion.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So here is part 2 of Chapter 7…and it’s explosive! Translation: Chinga tu madre, Cabrón = Go fuck your mother, asshole.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 Part 1

Lay your demons at the door, this is what we're fighting for, trying to clear the air but nobody's talking. We've been breathing this disease, trying to find a way to see, but the end is in your eyes, let's finish this tonight.

“What I don’t get,” Jensen looked at the bridesmaid who watched him with rapt attention, twisting a strand of hair round her finger, “is why come to Mexico and not get married on the beach?”

“Well they thought about it, but then Jolene decided she didn’t want to get covered in sand.” The red-head shot back. “So they chose this terrace, it’s kinda on the beach, I mean, you can see the ocean.”

“But if you don’t want to get sandy, why come here in the first place?”

“Because it’s cheaper.” She shrugged.

“So you’re saying Pooch is a cheapskate.” Jensen raised his eyebrow and she hesitated before she shook her head.

“No, that’s…” she began to talk, protesting that wasn’t what she was saying when he heard Roque shout out Stella’s nickname.

“Hey, Arty!”

Jake instantly glanced over his shoulder to look for her, and when he saw her, the air was completely knocked from his lungs.

Her dress was a gorgeous watercolor-like ombre blue. The deepest of sky blue shade covering her shoulders with wide straps and a deep v-neck line that wrapped at her breasts and it lightened just at the lower ribs to a cotton blue, before trailing down at the hemline in a pale blue almost white shade. The cut exposed her leg to mid-thigh, giving just a peek of the petunia inked into her skin. Her hair was pulled back off her face in an elegant, sleek pony tail and her lips popped a deep, burnt red. Her blue eyes stood out under thick lashes and perfectly lined eyebrows, the rest of her make up remaining neutral. She'd only been in the sun a day, but just as it always did, it had kissed her body in a way that made each little freckle pop and her entire frame glow.

The salty sea air and sunshine always looked good on Stella Stevenson and today, the overall effect made Jensen's mouth water.

“Holy shit.” He muttered, turning away from the girl and conversation without so much as a goodbye, leaving her stood there shooting daggers at his back.

Stella smiled as Roque kissed her cheek, then Cougs and finally Clay before she stepped back and smiled as their Colonel’s arm curled around the slim, petite brunette to his right.

“Stel, this is Emma, Emma this is Stella.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Emma smiled, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Why doesn’t that fill me full of confidence?” Stella laughed and Emma shook her head, smiling.

“Oh, no, I assure you, it’s all been good!”

As the two women continued to chat and laugh, Jake stood there, waiting for his turn, hands jammed into the pockets of his dress slacks. Eventually, Stella nodded and turned to him and he flashed her a smile.

“You know, that’s the second day in a row I’ve seen you looking like a grown up!” She quickly scanned him up and down, taking in his well-fitted, steel grey suit. The top button of his jacket fastened, nipping in at his slim waist and spanning over his broad chest and shoulders. The crisp white dress shirt underneath stood out against the suit, and matched his white pocket swatch, the entire ensemble pulled together by the steel grey tie which matched his jacket and slacks.

As she was looking, Jake leaned forward, her perfume sending him lightheaded as always. He placed a gentle peck to her cheek, his chin brushing her ear slightly. “You look stunning.” He whispered, and he didn’t miss the goose-bumps that appeared on her skin as she swallowed and pulled away.

“Thanks.” She stood still, simply looking at him, and the two of them were locked in a gaze before Stella cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “You guys know where we’re supposed to be seated?”

“Yeah, we’re on the right,” Clay gestured, “Grooms side or whatever.”

The gang moved to find their seats, Jensen stepping forward ready to offer Stel his arm but Roque beat him to it.

“Always the gentleman, huh?” She smiled at him and he chuckled, a deep, low timbre rumbling from his chest.

“You know me, Arty.”

Jake watched them go, before he gave a yelp and clutched at his side, glaring at Cougar.

“Stop drooling, Jensen.” Cougar peered at him from underneath his hat, smirking as Jake rubbed at the place on his ribs where he had dug him with his elbow.

“I’m not drooling, shut up Cougs.”

Thankfully, Cougar left it there and they moved to take their seats along the row that Clay, Emma, Roque and Stella had already occupied. Cougar, whether on purpose or not, reached the end of the row first and slid in next to Stella, separating her from Jensen. Jensen rolled his eyes, but before he could get too pissed about it, Pooch arrived, in a simple black pinstripe three piece with an ivory and red striped tie, and made his way down the aisle, greeting everyone. He stopped at the row that contained the Losers and smiled, Jensen pulling him into a hug, clapping his shoulder as he pulled away.

The thing with weddings, is that no one can actually tell you were the day goes. They seem to pass in a whirl and Pooch’s was no exception. What felt like mere seconds after The Groom had arrived, but was in fact more near to twenty minutes, the music started and Jolene appeared at the large arch at the back of the terrace, walking slowly with her dad down the aisle, in a gorgeous knee-length fitted lace dress, which set off her curves and legs perfectly, her curly ebony hair pinned up elegantly at the back of her head. As she reached Pooch, she reached up and straightened his tie and Stella heard a “Pay up, Captain” to her right. She turned to see Roque reaching over Emma, handing Clay a twenty, not even looking at him, and she let out a soft snort, shaking her head.

The Bride and Groom exchanged simple vows and Pooch head tears in his eyes as he made his declaration. At that point, Jake couldn’t help but take a glance at Stel to find her looking down at her hands, the fingers of her left twisting the white gold and ruby solitaire ring that sat on her right ring finger, a gift from him for her twenty-first. He swallowed a little, as he hadn’t seen her wear it in a while before she glanced up, and he took the opportunity to study her pretty profile for a second before he turned his attention back to the front for the ring exchange.  Before long the new Mr and Mrs Pooch headed down the red carpet in the middle of the aisle to cheers and the guests filed their way back inside for drinks whilst the staff set up the outside terraced area for the reception.

To Jake’s delight, there was no huge stuffy sit down meal, it was just a large buffet which meant he could eat what he wanted and how much he wanted, which suited him perfectly. What didn’t suit him, however, was that he didn’t see that much of Stella, at all. Post eating and listening to the speeches, whether intentionally or not, she avoided him, spending most of the time sipping champagne and cocktails chatting to Emma and few of Jolene’s friends. Jake was left to mooch around, mainly with Cougar who was absolutely trying to get into the blonde bridesmaid’s panties. Unfortunately, she was stuck like glue to the red headed one that Jake wasn’t interested in.

“You make a shit wingman.” Cougar gave a jab to Jensen’s rib with his elbow as the two girls wandered off.

“Good job I’m not a pilot then.” Jensen shrugged, taking a pull from his beer as his eyes scanned the room for Stella.

At that point they both got strong slaps on their shoulders as Pooch drew up behind them both, leaning between them a little.

“Your momma was a pilot.”

Cougar and Jensen both looked at one another before they slowly turned to glance at Pooch.

“Did you just drop a momma joke on your wedding day?” Jensen snorted

“A shit one at that.” Cougar added, tipping his hat slightly with the neck of his bottle.

“Come on guys! As you have just said it’s my wedding day so let’s have a drink together before Jolene’s, sorry my wife’s,” at that he grinned, “bridesmaids hunt you down again.”

“What if I want to be hunted?” Cougar shrugged

“Hence why I said before. Pay attention Cougs.”

“Chinga tu madre, Cabrón.” Cougar smirked, causing both Pooch and Jensen to snort as they knew that insult very well having heard it a few times.

“I dare you to say it to her face.” Pooch looked at him as Cougar merely smirked, giving him a wink.

Pooch rolled his eyes, “what about you, Jensen?”

“I don’t wanna fuck Momma Pooch!”

“Why? What’s wrong with her?”  Pooch looked at him.

“What? Nothing, that’s just gross!” Jensen pulled a face.

“He’s considering a trip down memory lane instead.” Cougar teased and Pooch groaned.

“Dude! Seriously, you need to get over it!”

At that Jake turned to look at Cougar. “No I’m not, stop making shit up!” Cougar shrugged, smirking slightly and simply held his gaze as Jensen groaned. “Whatever, man.”

Cougar merely shrugged, as chilled as ever whilst Pooch laughed and handed them a drink from a passing tray. “Well, I think that deserves a toast. To the first married Loser…oh, wait, that would be me! And to Jensen who seriously needs to stop flogging a dead horse!”

Jensen took a deep breath, once upon a time he’d fully expected to be married by now, full disclosure, to Stella. Maybe a kid on the way if there wasn’t one around already. And that thought gave him a perfect way out of this current train of conversation.

“How long till Baby Pooch comes along?”

“Dude, if it was up to me he’d be on the way already!” Pooch grinned.

“He?” Jensen shook his head. “Nah man, you want a girl.”

“What? No! I want a little Pooch. Why would I want a girl?”

“A girl always loves her daddy.” Jensen shrugged. “Like Gracie, man, she’s awesome. There’s just something about seeing her with Robert. It’s cute.” He paused and grinned. “I want a girl. Imma call her Daisy.”

At that Cougar let out a snort as Pooch began to howl with laughter.

“Who’s Daisy?” Clay asked as he appeared with Roque, the pair of them smirking at something.

“Jensen’s first born. Apparently.” Pooch wiped his eyes.

“Wait, what?” Roque frowned and turned to Jensen. “You have a kid?”

“No, it’s a hypothetical one.” Jensen shook his head.

“Good.” Roque blew out a breath. “Do me a favour and never reproduce, Jensen.”

“Fuck you Roque,” Jake snapped back. “I’d make a great dad.”

“Yeah, well, you might wanna start ‘daddying’ that chick in the red dress over there, because she’s eye-fucking you shamelessly.” Roque nodded over his shoulder and Jake turned around. He gave the girl a once over, she was pretty but…his trail of thought died as he spotted Stella was stood alone at the bar. He necked his drink and holding up his glass he stated, “need a refill.” before he turned and headed over the room.

“Yeah, sure.” Pooch rolled his eyes as Cougar gave a low chuckle.

“Told ya.”

“Man he just can’t help himself, can he?” Roque shook his head as the three of them watched Jensen who approached Stella, his hand dropping to the small of her back as he leaned over to talk to her.

“Nope” Clay let out a sigh as Stell laughed at something Jake said. “Ahh, leave him to it, we can always do damage control, as usual where he is concerned.”

“How do you damage control a suicide bomb?” Pooch looked at Clay and Roque snorted.

“Pooch is right, dude is basically a hand grenade right now.”

“Don’t get involved guys.” Clay shook his head and Cougar nodded.

“I agree with boss. If Jensen’s gonna pull the pin, he can dive on it.”

“The problem will come when he tries to ‘pull her pin’ and she kicks his ass. But, fortunately I will be enjoying my wedding night.” Pooch shrugged. “See ya, Losers. Don’t have too much fun!”

The three of them watched him wander off over the room, shouting to someone, and Clay’s eyes fell on his date, Emma, who was smiling at him and waving from her spot at a table.

“I will also be enjoying Pooch’s wedding evening.” Clay winked and walked off.

Roque turned to look at Cougar. “Don’t even think of it…”

Cougar merely chuckled, tipped his hat and also wandered off, hands in his pockets as he sauntered over to a group of girls.

“That’s okay, just leave me here, I’m good!” Roque called after them before he let out a sigh. “Assholes.”

****

As the hours passed they drank, a lot. And naturally, where alcohol is involved inhibitions start to lower. There was a lot of fun being had, a lot of jokes being shared and other stupid activities being partaken in, such as a raucous drinking game Stella and Jake played against  Pooch’s uncle and his brother.

Which they lost, spectacularly.

Stella was feeling fairly light headed thanks to the mix of champagne, beer and cocktails running through her system, along with a few shots of tequila and somehow, she had no idea how, the two of them ended up on the dance floor, dancing to some really random shit when ‘La Bamba’ started playing. Jake grabbed Stella’s hand with a whoop of joy and started twirling her round, her face creasing in laughter as they let loose, Jake showing off his pretty neat footwork

“I thought you said he wasn’t taken?” The red headed bridesmaid gestured to Jake as she stood next to Pooch and he snorted.

“He’s not”

“Could have fooled me.”

“It’s complicated.” Pooch shrugged. “Long story short, she’s taken, he’s not. He wishes she wasn’t as it’s his fault she is.” He turned to the woman besides him. “If that makes any sense.”

From the look on her face, it made no sense at all, which wasn’t surprising to Pooch as he struggled to make sense of Jensen and Stella’s fucked up dynamic, but before she could reply there was a slap on his shoulder.

“Ten bucks says they end up in bed together,” Roque slurred.

“No way man.” Pooch shook his head, “she won’t cheat on Evan.”

“Fuck that guy,” Roque snorted. “Look, she’s hammered, here alone, I’m calling it.”

Pooch was about to tell Roque that Evan present or not, Stella would cut Jensen’s balls off if he tried anything when the familiar opening bars of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ cut across the dance floor.

Both Stella and Jake paused a little, Jake running his hand through his hair as he gestured to the tables, clearly asking Stella if she wanted to quit dancing when she shook her head, giving him a smile, which Jensen returned as she took his hand, the pair of them beginning to sing and dance along.

“Twenty bucks,” Roque hiccupped, upping his stake.

“You’re on.” Pooch shook his hand as the bridesmaid snorted.

“And you’re losing.”

Pooch watched her go and then turned back to the dancefloor to see Jake and Stella now dancing pretty close...

This had always been their song. That was why Jensen had asked if she wanted to sit it out when it had come on, but she’d refused, and as such he’d been twirling her round to the music just like he always had. After one spin, they end up facing one another, singing very loudly as Jake threw his arms up and around, Stella snorting and laughing at his antics.

“Do you remember dancing to this at prom?” Jensen grinned as he continued to throw his arms around wildly, Stella shaking her head. He smiled, his mind straying back to that night, how amazing the entire evening had been, not least for the fact it had been the first time they’d fully given themselves to one another. He remembered laying there, after, as they both giggled and kissed and cuddled, thinking there and then that was it for him, there’d never be another girl who came close.

And then he’d pulled a Jensen, and ruined it.

“Of course I do.” Stella smiled. “Life was simpler back then, huh?”

“Isn’t it always?” Jensen asked as he spun her back round, pulling her in so her back was to his chest, hands dropping to her hips as the electric guitar solo struck up signalling the song was almost at and end. He felt Stella take a deep breath.

“Well we were kids.”

“But it was easy.” Jensen dropped his chin to her shoulder, his cheek brushing hers. “It was just you and me and the rest of our lives ahead.”

Stella tilted her head to look at him as the song faded into ‘I’ve Had The Time Of My Life’ and she pulled away, turning to face him with a shrug.

“Didn’t quite work out the way we thought though did it.” She asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

Jensen sighed, his fingers flexing against her hips. “I know. I fucked up.” He swallowed, the lump thick in his throat and Stella shook her head.

“Don’t.” She warned. “Not now.”

But Jensen wasn’t listening. He had to get it off his chest, he couldn’t stand the sick, hot feeling he got every time he thought about her and Evan. He needed to tell her, even if she told him there was no chance for them ever again, at least he’d know.

“No, just listen to me, Stelly, please.” His eyes locked onto hers. “There’s not a day goes by I don’t regret it. You know that, right? And no matter what happens I’ll always-“

He was cut off as Stella landed a harsh, stinging slap to his left cheek, his head whipping to the right. He took a deep breath, stunned, before he turned his head to face her, shocked splashed across his handsome features.

A few people around them stopped dancing, and Stella could hear a few hushed whispers, along with a louder shout of ouch, from who she had no idea. She opened her mouth to say something, the tears spilling from her eyes before she realised she needed to get out of there, and fast. So she did.

She hurried out of the room towards the hotel lobby and elevator, wiping the tears that were falling down her face. She knew she shouldn’t have done that, and maybe it was a little harsh, but the anger she felt towards Jake at that moment in time was insurmountable. He had left her, twice basically, and continued to fuck with her head, and then had the audacity to try and ...well, she didn't even know what he was trying to do. Her head was a mess, a fuckery of conflicting feelings, and she was as drunk as she could remember being in a long time, which wasn't helping.

She was also well aware that she'd just made a complete scene at Pooch's wedding, potentially seen by his entire family and friends, and that not only embarrassed her, it also made her feel like crap for being that asshole guest that everyone would be talking about for months to come.

*****

Jensen ignored both Roque and Clay who had crowded round to ask him what the hell he'd done to deserve a slap, but he simply pushed them out of the way, only one thing on his mind, getting to Stella and making her listen. He hurried out of the room, skidding to a slightly unsteady halt in the corridor before he jogged down the hallway and into the lobby where he spotted her at the elevator.

“Stel!" He yelled her name in an attempt to stop her, drawing intrigued and surprised looks from the guests and staff alike in the atrium. "Stella, wait!"

She didn't turn around, but he could tell she'd heard him, well, everyone in the lobby had heard him, but if that wasn't evidence enough to show that his calls across the foyer had reached her, the fact that she began angrily slamming her hand against the elevator call button certainly was. Jensen hurried across the shiny tiled surface, the heels of his dress shoes clicking as he went, expertly side stepping a couple who were walking through with cases, cursing as he saw Stella stepping into the elevator. He continued running, but just as he skidded to a halt he caught a glimpse of her angry tear stained face as the doors shut.

"Fuck!" He shouted, banging his hand on the wall just above the call panel. Spinning, he almost collided with a young couple who were looking at him, and the man shot him a filthy glare as he pushed between them, running to the stairs. He took them two, sometimes three at a time as he raced to the fourth floor in an attempt to catch her, and he burst into the corridor in time to see her stalking to her room.

He paused to take a breath, relief flooding his system at the fact he'd manage to catch her before she got to her room, before he realised he still had to stop her.

“Stel!” His shout was a desperate plea, and she spun to face him, her face surprised clearly at how he'd managed to get there so quick, and whilst she was still he took his chance. “Look, I’m sorry I made you upset but-“

With that she gave an angry growl almost as she turned around and carried on, the heel of her shoe catching a little as she did, causing her to stumble and Jensen felt his anger boiling over, this was fucking ridiculous, and here he was shouting down a hotel corridor, to her fucking back.

"For fucks sake, Estella, will you a stop being a bitch and just listen to me?"

At that she stopped dead and wheeled round, sheer venomous disdain etched across her face. "I am SICK of listening to you Jacob." She spat his full name back at him, in response to him using hers. "It’s always the fucking same. You know if anything I should have listened to you years ago when you dumped me and stayed the fuck away from you and your stupid-"

"You just slapped me, Stella!" Jensen exclaimed "In front of everyone in the fucking room! The least you can do is hear me out, I deserve that surely?"

"You don’t deserve shit." She snorted. "Now take a hint and leave me the fuck alone!"

"What, like your boyfriend?"

The words flew out of Jensen's mouth before he had even registered them, and from the look on Stella’s face she was as shocked as he was that he'd gone there. She took a deep breath, looked at the floor before she raised her head and stared at him, fresh tears in her eyes and Jensen sighed in frustration at himself.

"You know, just when I think you can’t go any lower." Her voice was soft and sad now, and Jensen stayed silent as he knew that had been a low blow. She took another shaky breath, shaking her head. "I’ve never come so close to hating you as I have right now. You are an asshole."

"Stell, look, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that..."

"Go to hell." She stated, her voice flat as she turned and carried on walking towards her room.

"Cougar told me what Evan said." Jensen blurted out, more words he hadn't planned on saying, and once more she stopped dead.

"Fucking-"

"Did you say it back?"

There was no answer.

"You didn't, did you?" Jensen continued to press as she started walking towards her again. "That's why he isn't here, aint it? Because you couldn't say it, and you fell out, and-"

"You tell me," she stopped at the door to her room, foraging in her purse for her key, "I mean, clearly you have all the answers and know everything about how I feel and-"

"Damnit Stella, just-"

"You know what?" She spun to face him as he stopped besides her. "Evan might not be perfect but he’s never dumped me for no fucking reason, then used me as and when he wanted. But, I suppose that’s on me because I was never strong enough to tell you to fuck off and now that I am, you don’t like it." She raised her hand and jabbed him in the chest. "You don’t like the fact I’m not there when you want to fuck something because I’ve got someone else in my life-" another jab "-someone who… who loves me and I-."

"And you what Stel?" Jensen interrupted her rant with a snort and she fell silent, her eyes flashing. "See you can’t even say it, can you?"

Stella glared at him, a look that would make anyone else quiver in their shoes but not him, not now. He was too far gone trying to make his point, trying to make her see his point, to care how angry he was making her.

“Just admit it Stella," he arched his eyebrow, stepping forward. He planted one hand by her head, palm flat on the surface of the door as he leaned closer to her, his voice level and even as he stated, “you don’t love him, you never will.”

“Fuck you.” Stella stumbled over her words a little, before her hands planted on his chest and she shoved him. Jake stepped back, slightly off balance more to the alcohol in his system than the force of her push, but he steadied himself, moving forwards again. She made to shove him once more but this time he was ready, and his hands caught her wrists, fingers curling round them as her room key fell to the floor.

“Fuck me yourself.” He shot. At that she shook her head and scoffed. “What’s the matter, Stel?” Jake’s voice dropped a little as his grip around her wrists tightened, and he pressed her further into the door, his head dropping, face inches from hers. “Scared you might like it, still?”

“Asshole.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper and she pulled her arms violently to the side, Jake letting go. Once more she pushed him, this time he stepped away so she could bend and retrieve her room key from the floor, which took her a few attempts, her hand and eye coordination impaired from the drink. Eventually, she grabbed it and stood, a little unsteadily, turning her back to him.

As she slid the card into the slot, Jake was once more in her space behind her, his hands softly on her waist and he leaned towards her, his breath hot on her ear.

“Don’t be a chicken, Stel.” His voice was gravelly and he braced, waiting for another blow, but it never came. She swallowed a little, her chest heaving, and she made no attempt to stop his advances. She'd let go of what she had to say, and now she was physically proving him right in his assumptions and her denials

Emboldened by this, Jensen placed a soft kiss to her neck as she pushed the door to her room open, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turned to him, her eyes locking into his and Jensen could see the conflict behind them. There was a war going on between her head and her heart and, had he been sober, Jensen probably would have walked away, knowing what he was doing was pretty shitty and unfair. But he wasn’t sober. He was drunk, and not just on alcohol but sheer desire for the woman stood in front of him. His Stelly. The girl he still loved.

As her large, clear blue eyes bounced across each of his whilst she grappled with her internal turmoil, Jake stood stock still waiting for her to make her move. He took a deep breath, expecting her to shove him away for that final time, and he would have taken it then, having already proven his point to both her and him, but then he saw it, that familiar darkening of her eyes.

The spark Stell still carried for him, that small flicker of a flame that for so long had been starved of oxygen, suddenly exploded and she reached out, grabbing his loose tie, bringing his lips crashing down to hers. Jake surged forward, pushing her backwards as he continued to kiss her, kicking the door to her room shut with his foot before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close,  pouring every single bit of emotion and frustration he’d felt over the past few months into the kiss.

It was urgent, it was desperate, and the pair of them stumbled around the hotel room, Stella pushing his jacket off and tossing it to the floor somewhere before she yanked off his tie, her fingers moving to undo his shirt. Jake's hands fumbled with the floaty tulle skirt of her dress as he pulled it up around her waist, trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck whilst Stella pushed his shirt down his arms where he shrugged it off. Her hands planted on his chest as she smoothed her delicate palms over the solid planes of muscle, sliding them down over his defined abs and he gave a soft hiss as he felt her nimble fingers undoing the buckle of his belt. In a quick move that made her squeak slightly, he reached down and grabbed her ass, hauling her off the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist as he backed her up against the large sliding doors which led out to the balcony. His lips pressed back to hers whilst her back hit the thick glass a little harder than he had intended, drawing a soft grunt from her mouth as it rattled in the frame.

“Ow.” she mumbled against his mouth, grabbing a fist full of his hair and tugging harshly so he looked at her. He gave an apologetic grin she looked at him for a moment before her hands moved and plucked off his glasses, in a movement that really shouldn’t be hot but for some reason it always was. He took them from her, depositing them in his pocket as his lips gently latched onto her neck, sucking at the pulse point. A barely there whimper sounded in his ear as he nipped at her skin and his attention moved downwards, hot, open mouthed kisses traced down her sternum which was exposed between the deep V neckline of her dress. A low moan left her mouth and her hips pushed down against the bulge in his trousers and he pressed into her, giving her the friction she was asking for. Her hands skimmed down his spine, her fingers making his skin burn and prickle as they danced over his back, coming to rest on his broad shoulders , digging into his muscles as Jake pushed his hips up again, grinding against her.

Neither of them were thinking straight, it was way past that point. This was a pure, carnal desire between two, once-upon-a-time long term lovers, both desperate to scratch that deep itch that they still had for one another. But still Jake paused, pulling back so he could take a moment to look at her. She was slightly dishevelled, strands of her hair had fallen loose from her up-do, framing her heart shaped face. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, but it was her eyes which caught him. He'd always loved her eyes and now they were staring at him with a wild, lust filled look that he knew so well. He swallowed a little, before she moved her hands to his cheeks, pulling his face back to hers. Jake moaned into this kiss and his hands moved round her back, her feet landed on the floor as her back slipped slightly against the smooth surface she had been pressed against. Their mouths remained open, pressed together, sharing air as Jensen slid the zipper of her dress down, causing it to gape a little at the front and he reached up, thumbs gently running on the underside of the straps before he slid them down her arms, placing a soft kiss to each of her shoulders in turn. As he pushed the soft, blue chiffon of her dress down to her waist he couldn’t help the carnal growl that rumbled in his throat as he saw she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Fuck, Stel. You're beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful." He muttered, his lips back on hers as his hands cradled her face. She stepped out of her dress, his hands moving down to grip her hips, fingers curling over the softness of her flesh as he pushed her back against the cold surface of the window. His lips claimed hers again before he moved his mouth, nibbling his way down the column of her throat, tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of her neck, teeth grazing her collar bone as he mapped his way down her body in a way he had done so many times before.

Stella felt Jensen's hands sliding down her bare thighs as he sunk to the floor and her brain had barely registered the fact he was on his knees, when he hooked one leg over his shoulder, shifting her soaked panties to one side. At the first touch his mouth made to her inner thigh she sighed in pleasure, the raw scratch of his short beard a contrast to the warm, softness of his mouth as he moved upwards before he finally gave one long lick over her sex, dipping his tongue into her a little, causing her to cry out in pleasure, one hand falling to his head, the other palm slapping against the glass surface behind her. He repeated his action, his tongue flicking up through her sensitive outer lips and this time he sucked on her clit, causing her back to arch, her had dropping back in sheer pleasure as her shoulders pressed further onto the glass in an attempt to keep herself up-right, all the time writhing at his actions.

His tongue and lips worked in tandem, un-doing her lap by lap, all the time she was vaguely aware of the fact she was begging him not to stop, her words punctuated by gasps and pants, manicured nails digging into his scalp as her hand curled over his head, fingers tangling into his short hair. It wasn’t long before Stella felt that familiar tightening across her stomach and her leg trembled slightly as she fought to keep herself upright.

“Fuck, JJ,” she stuttered, as he let out a groan, the vibration so pleasurable it was almost painful as his tongue dipped in and out of her entrance, continuing to fuck her the way he had always been able to do. The burning in her stomach suddenly took over her entire body and she gave a loud cry as she came, her head falling forward before it rolled back again against the window with a hard thud as the world around her went silent. She grasped Jensen’s shoulder as her leg gave way and he quickly stood up, catching her easily, a grin on his face as she opened her eyes and looked at him, her pupils blown with lust, her thighs once more locked round his waist. He kissed her again, the kiss absolutely filthy as he stepped back and turned them, crossing the room where he dropped her gently onto the bed.

She knelt up on the soft mattress, her now almost completely loose hair falling over her face as she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his dress slacks and pulled him to her. In one smooth, fluid movement of her hands she’d undone his flies before she slid his pants and boxers down in one swoop. She dropped her head and took him in her mouth without so much as a warning, her eyes locked onto his.

“Shit, Stel” he mumbled, his hands tangling into her hair, guiding her softly as she moved, her head bobbing back and forth before she pulled away to lick along the base of his shaft, tracing the vein in the underneath, and Jensen knew then if she carried on he was going to blow his load before he’d even gotten to the main event.

“Get up here.” His voice was low as he cupped her face and guided her back up, kissing her again. With a gentle shove, Jensen pushed her back on the bed, stepping out of his remaining clothes before he crawled over her, sliding her lace underwear down her long, smooth legs. He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he gave her ankles a soft tug, pulling her down further on the bed, crawling between her thighs, his mouth tracing its way up from her belly to her breasts which were heaving, nipples pebbled in excitement. Knowing exactly what would leave her nothing short of a wreck underneath him, he turned his attention to her right breast, lapping and sucking, grazing with his teeth whilst his hand palmed at her left. She let out a soft, breathy moan, which was music to Jensen's ears as his mouth and hand traded places. He worked her over, till she was begging to feel him where she needed him, her knees clenching around his slim waist, desperate for something to help the burning that was between her legs. He shifted his position a little, propping himself up so he could kiss her deeply again, hands on either side of her face as he buried himself inside of her, with a loud groan.

“God you feel so good, Stel.” His mouth moved over her jaw to her ear as he praised her, nipping at the lobe. At his words Stella gave a loud groan as he thrust up into her again, deeply, burying himself to the hilt before he rotated his hips in a dirty grind, a move he knew drove her wild. She cried out, clawing at his back and he groaned as she tipped her hips up to meet his.

"You know,” another thrust, "he’ll never be able,” another thrust, “to fuck you the way I can," he rotated his hips for another grind which caused her once more to cry out, nails biting at his back as he drove a little deeper, "because he doesn’t know you like I do."

To prove his point, one hand moved and gently wrapped round the front of her throat, giving the gentlest of squeezes but he knew that would send her feral. It was something he had discovered a long time ago, being so in control the rest of the time, Stella loved when he would take over like this, dominate her a touch and whisper cheeky, dirty little things into ear. It had always driven her crazy and tonight was no exception. He’d succeeded in throwing fuel onto the fire that was already raging, and a sharp, strangled wail of his name stuttered from her lips as he felt her fluttering around him.

"You were made for me, Baby Girl." Jensen’s own voice was a low growl as his hips picked up their pace, Stella's head falling back onto the pillows as Jake's mouth claimed hers again, the kiss sloppy and desperate matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Because he was. He was desperate for this woman. Desperate like he’d never been desperate before.

“Jakey.” She keened underneath him, hands still clawing the muscles of his back which were flexing under her touch, equally as needy for him as he was her. He reached down to hook a leg over his shoulder causing her to mewl loudly at the change of angle and depth as he continued to drive into her like his life depended on it. He bent over, mouth swallowing another loud moan as he did, feeling her sweat soaked skin slick against his.

“Fuck, baby I’m close,” he stuttered, his hips snapping back and forth, “see what you do to me?”

Her beautiful eyes were wide, her mouth pressed to his as she let out a broken lament as her walls fluttered around him again, causing him to almost purr in delight as she did. She was close, so fucking close. And it felt good. As his cock dragged in and out of her, the feel of him sliding up against her spot had her worked into a complete frenzy, and she was teetering right on that edge.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her head falling back further onto the pillow as she grasped his arms whilst he continued to fuck her into the mattress. And then, her stomach tightened and she felt the rush of pleasure that she knew was the end, beginning to wash over her. "Oh, God, Jake...I'm..."

"Come on, Stel." Jake growled, his hips still pumping in and out of her "Cum for me, Baby, just like you always do."

At his words, she gave a low, sultry whimper and her eyes fluttered shut, nails digging into his biceps as she shuddered underneath him, her back arching as her walls clamped down on him, milking his cock and that was it. He was done for, just like he always was when it came to this woman.

“Shit, Stel," he groaned as he felt his abs tighten as he came with a force he hadn't felt in a long time. His hips faltered as he cried out, shooting his load straight into her, before after one final, deep thrust he collapsed on top of her, his face buried into her neck.

The room was silent bar the sounds of their deep, heavy breathing as they both came down, fighting for control. Jake felt her hands gently move round to tangle in his hair, nails scratching his scalp and he raised his head, eyes still closed, enjoying her touch.

“Jake,” she finally whispered, still slightly out of breath but he didn't miss the tremble in her voice and he raised his head, opening his eyes to see her looking back at him. Her cheeks were flushed, hair all over the place and fuck, he’d never see anything so damned beautiful in his life as her undone underneath him. But her eyes, they were misting over with tears and he swallowed, shaking his head.

"Stel… " he began, and she turned her head away from his, screwing her eyes shut as her face crumpled.

"Fuck, what did we just do?" She whispered, opening her eyes and she looked at the wall to her right for a moment before Jensen tipped her face back round to him.

"Don't." He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. "Don't do this, not now." He pressed their foreheads together, his nose bumping hers and she gave a quiet sniff as he pressed his lips to hers softly.

“Do you want me to go?” He didn’t really want to ask the question, for fear of her answer but she shook her head, her eyes a little lost as she looked at him.

“No, I don’t. And that’s the problem.” She whispered.

He wanted to try and assure her that it was all okay and that they hadn’t done anything wrong but his words died in his throat, because he knew technically they had. Whatever was going on with her and Agent Shitname, she was still with him, meaning she’d cheated and he knew that would be cutting her up inside.

And now Jensen felt like shit for putting her in that position.

He gently pecked her lips again and with a soft movement he pulled out from her and lay on his back, his hand rubbing his chest. After a little pause he felt Stella turn into him and her head lay on his chest, his arm curling round her shoulder as she sniffed a little, turning her face into his sternum.

“It’s gonna be okay, Stelly.” He pressed a kiss to her head.

It was lame, but it was all he could thing to say. He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply, and there wasn’t another word spoken between the two of them before they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

****

Stella woke the next morning, her bare back pressed into a hard, muscled chest and didn't even need to turn round to know whose arm was thrown round her waist. As the memories of what had happened the night before flooded her brain she squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the urge to snuggle further back into the arms of the man she knew so well. Instead, she gently untangled herself from Jensen and without a glance back headed quietly into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She glanced in the mirror and grimaced as she saw the previous day’s make up was streaked all over her face. Grabbing her cleanser from her toiletries bag she wiped it away, tossing the cotton pads into the trash before she turned on the shower and stepped into the stream. She stood there for a while, her face titled to meet the water as it beat down on her, washing away the silent tears that were pouring down her cheeks.

Ten minutes or so later she stepped out, almost working on auto pilot and dried herself off, before grabbing one of the hotel provided towel robes. Once wrapped in it, she squeezed the water out of her hair, dragged a brush through it and then opened the door.

Just as expected, Jensen was still flat out in the bed, although he'd now turned onto his back. It had always been a joke between the two of them that he could sleep through a damned earthquake after a heavy drinking session, yet never failed to hear his alarm. Stella took a moment to study his face, a face she knew by heart, every freckle and line, the curve of his nose and angle of his jaw. Biting her lip, she moved towards the back of the room, made herself a coffee as quietly as she could before she retrieved her phone from her purse that had been tossed down carelessly the night before and headed out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind her.

She sank into one of the chairs, tucking her legs under her and glanced at the screen. There wasn't much battery left but she had a couple of missed calls. One from Clay and another form Cougar, both probably wondering where she had bailed to, and one from Evan. She swallowed as she also spotted she had a message from him too.

Ev- Hey, Pumpkin. Look, I'm so sorry about how things went down the other night. I overreacted, and that's on me. I really hope you're having a good time. Please call me when you can, and we can talk when you're home xx

Stella felt the guilt twist in her gut even more and she gave a sigh, tossing her phone onto the table.

"He’ll never be able to fuck you the way I can, because he doesn’t know you like I do."

Jakes voice rattled around her head and she took a dep breath, looking over the balcony down at the pool area below. Try as she might, she couldn't even deny he was right. The sex with Evan wasn't bad, in fact she would go as far as saying it was pretty damned good, likely to be earth shattering to most women. But, to her, there had always been something that held her back.

And now she was forced to admit head on what she'd been trying to deny for months. It was because he wasn't Jake.

Jake Jensen had worked her way into his heart from the day they had met when they were merely eleven years old, and try as she might she couldn't shake him. That year they had been apart, she'd tried so hard, and had been sure she'd managed, and then she'd seen him and they'd fucked, and fallen back into that awful cycle of being together but not being together.

She couldn't stay with Evan. She'd known that even before last night had happened but the fact she'd basically opened her legs so easily for Jensen went to prove that she didn't love Evan, and she wasn't sure she ever would.

She took a shuddering breath and then her attention jerked upwards as Jake opened the balcony door, his hair mussed, top half bare as he rubbed his eyes, his glasses in his hand.

"Hey." he offered, almost shyly and Stella gave him a nod.

"Hi."

There was an awkward silence as he sat down on the chair opposite her, slipping his glasses onto his nose. He watched as she avoided his gaze, glancing over the balcony, occasionally looking at her hands which were worrying one another. Eventually, he could stand it no more and he reached over to take her hands in his.

"Stel, look, last night..."

"Last night was a mistake." She spoke, her eyes locking onto his. Jensen felt his gut churn, her words an icy blade digging into his heart.

"So, you’re just gonna pretend like it didn't happen and go back to that prick?" Jensen looked at her, his voice measured and Stella shook her head.

"No, I can't do that. Not now. Me and Evan are over, I'm gonna tell him when we get back. I don't love him, you're right. Because if I did I would never have given in and slept with you." She licked her lips.

Jake swallowed and looked down at his hands which were clasped around hers before he raised his head to stare her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry." he said eventually. "I'm sorry if you felt like, well, like I pushed you..."

"No, that's not what I'm saying." She squeezed his fingers. "I just, me and you, we can't keep doing this. We go round and round in circles and…" She took a shuddering breath as she trailed off, unable to articulate what she was trying to say.

"No, I get it." Jake gave her a small smile. He let go of her hands and stood up. "I should probably erm, go,” he gestured to the door, “I need to shower before breakfast and the taxi to the airport arrives."

"Okay." She nodded.

She watched him open the door to head inside, before he paused and turned to face her.

"I know you said what happened last night was a mistake, but I just want you to know that I wouldn’t change it for the world."

With that he gave her a final smile and headed back into the hotel room. Stella could see him through the glass doors as he hastily dressed, before without so much as another word he left, and as she heard the door to her room close, the tears once more began to fall.

**** Chapter 7 Part 3

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #the losers #the losers fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

[moral-turpitudes]

Deal with the Devil: Ch. 10

(gif creds: @shallowthinkersunite​)

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Violent Descriptions of Death, Fighting, Explosions, Guns, Knives, Angst.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Isla Maxwell (OC)

Word Count: 3,315

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | *7* | 8 | 9 | 10

The clock struck 7pm as the townspeople milled about on the cold, damp roads. The sounds of cars and incessant chatter filling the entrances to the race track as everyone trickled in.

“Everyone knows the plan right?” Isla asked, getting silent nods in response while checking her knives and the rounds in her gun.

“Aye what if we make it? Can we get drinks after?” John asked, Nick elbowing him in the shoulder.

“You really can’t think of anything else right now? Jesus.” Nick said, his hands shaking slightly as he grabbed a handgun and grenade.

“If we make it through we will. Focus on our targets and not dying though, please.” Isla said, wrapping her coat around her where a machine gun was concealed. Snow was falling sporadically as they made their way to the back entrance, the skies creating a gray fog over the dirt covered path.

As they stalked forward, Thomas looked straight at the doors for anyone standing guard. With a quick motion, he put his hand out in a fist to stop the rest of them from walking ahead and quickly got his gun ready, holding it out and aiming through the fog.

The shots pierced the air at a blinding pace, going through two of Mosley’s security members before they could return fire. Their blood coating the white-washed bricks as they fell limp in front of the door.

As they neared the back entrance, Isla looked up to see some of her connections perched atop the roof, giving her a quick nod as she stepped over the bodies and went inside.

The area was dark and smelled of hay and horse manure, which was typical for a day spent at the track. But what wasn’t so typical was the four men in the distance, barely blinking an eye as they heard the commotion down the hall.

“Oi! You aren’t allowed back here! Go to your seats!” They yelled through the dark room, the lack of light working to Isla’s advantage. She quickly grabbed two of her knives and flung them as she stalked forward, their blades sticking in two of the men’s bodies like darts in a dart board. The other two quickly ran after her, attempting to grab her before being shot at close range by Arthur, who’d came in from where the tunnels were.

“Anyone down there besides our men?” Thomas asked, crouching down and slitting one of the men’s throats to silence him as he wailed in pain.

“There were two but I got ‘em. It’s so loud in here you can’t even give a bloody command.” He said, looking out at the rowdy crowd that was forming in the stands, Isla’s connections getting in their places near the stage and blending in.

“Right, so that leaves around sixteen of them.” Nick said, looking down the vacant hall where Mosley’s room was located. A faint shot rang out from above as music started playing, the band looking weary as they played for another night in a row.

“Sounds like your sniper got one.” Thomas said, walking down the hall with Isla following, not wanting to waste any time.

“Back!” He yelled, his arm shoving her behind him as they dashed around the corner, four of his men walking out of his room and down the hall towards the stage.

Thomas looked at her and nodded as she got her knives ready, John and Nick keeping an eye out towards the stage as they hastily prepared for anymore attacks.

“I’ll get them from behind.” Thomas said suddenly, tilting his head to another hall that led around to where they were. Isla caught on and nodded, taking her coat off to adjust her revealing dress and quickly retrieve the pocket watch. She put on a worried face as she walked out from the corner, her hand gun concealed under her coat as she stalked near them.

“Excuse me...I must’ve gotten turned around. I have this watch Mosley wanted me to give back after last night. Is his room this way?” She asked pushing a stray hair behind her ear, their eyes carving into her as she adjusted her dress, dangling the watch in front of her. In the distance she could see Thomas aiming and nodding for her to duck down.

She flicked the watch off her hand haphazardly, sending it to the floor with an audible crack, and bent down quickly to pick up the glass shards as the bullets ripped through the men. The loud noise sending Mosley’s door flying open as three more of his members came out, each pelted with bullets as Thomas shot them.

John and Nick ran over to help her once it was clear, kicking the ruined watch out of the way before they all sprinted down towards the stage.

“He goes on in five minutes.” Arthur said, closing his watch as he stalked back towards the tunnel once again.

“Fuck.” John said, pacing the area as the time ticked down.

“I looked in his room. He’s not there.” Thomas said, walking away from the bloody mess.

“When the snipers see me nod, they’ll know to take him out. We could just wait him out in the crowd.” Isla said, her plan only half working as reality set in. Mosley cheated death before, so it was only fitting if he avoided it this time.

“John, you and Nick stay here. Take out any men you see, except Mosley.” Thomas said, taking Isla’s hand and leading her out the back entrance and around to the front where the last few followers were heading in.

They kept their heads down as they crept in, Isla pulling him to the side when she found a couple of her connections standing in the vacant halls.

“He’s about to go on. Take out as many of the members out as you can, we’ll be in the stands. Tell the others.” She said to them quickly, clutching Thomas’ hand tightly as her nerves set in, scanning for open seats just out of Mosley’s sight.

Once seated, Isla looked up and saw the snipers faintly as the night closed in. The cold air creeping in amongst the crowd as the eerie music started up.

The lights dawned on the stage as his followers clapped. Mosley coming out with a smug expression as he spoke.

“Thank you everyone. Tonight has started off a bit unsettling, given the attempt on my life once before, but don’t you worry. I have protections in place now more than ever. You are all safe here.” He said, smiling his wicked smile as some of the crowd shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. The sight made Isla’s stomach churn as he continued his speech, knowing some of them would follow anything he said without questioning it.

“You’re pale, are you alright?” Thomas asked, noticing her face changing color.

“He makes me sick.” She said, eyeing her men in the crowd as they watched Mosley speak, their guns nestled in their coats, ready to shoot at a moments notice.

The crowd grew more rowdy as he went on, Thomas fleetingly looking at his rival as he spoke, careful not to show his face too much.

“What’s going on?” She asked, ripping her eyes away from Mosley to see Thomas staring at him.

“Oh...just thinking. I can’t believe I couldn’t kill him last time.” He said, mentally tearing himself apart as she clutched his hand.

“He’s a hard man to catch, we’ll get him this time.” She said, focusing on her men in the crowd. Mosley’s passionate shouts erupted from the stage as his followers stood and clapped, the music blaring from the trumpets and other instruments near them.

Behind the stage stood Alfie and a couple of his men, blocking the view to the back portion where John and Nick were. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw him, he was a welcome sight after all, even amongst the chaos.

“Well if Alfie got here that means they got through alright. I wonder how many are down now.” He said, looking up at the snipers, only the tips of their guns poking out from the roof.

“At this point as long as we get Mosley that’s all that matters.” She said, watching as Mosley waved at the crowd. Her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area.

Thomas gripped her hand, getting her attention as he nodded in the corner where some of her connections were. They were fighting a few of the members and one of them waved back at the members sitting near the stage.

“You see that?” Isla asked.

“Yes. We have to go.” Thomas said, slowly getting up with her following his lead. He pushed through the crowds frantically as they made their way towards the back of the stage, their eyes adjusting to the darkness and chaos that was ensuing as Mosley spoke.

As if on cue, the rest of his men came in except for the ones in the crowd, a hail of bullets flying through the air as Thomas shoved her behind him and led them around the corner.

“Fuck!” Thomas shouted as he got his gun. Aiming from behind the corner as Alfie and his men shot at the others.

“Go find Arthur and the rest of our guys Tommy. I’ll take these ones.” She said, loading her gun and shooting from beside him, the loud recoil almost shattering both their ears.

“No.” He said, helping her into the main area where Mosley’s members were firing. Alfie was fighting one of them and the others were knocking each other senseless amidst the gunfire.

As the light came in from the stage, Isla saw two men lying on the ground, their eyes open and breathing shallow as they bled out on the floor.

Her heart sank as she crouched near them, realizing it was Nick and John.

“No! No....you both have to stay with me!....Please...” She said, her eyes welling up with tears as she clutched onto them, anger rising within her as she grabbed their weapons, shoving their grenades in her coat pocket.

Before she could move away from their bodies, Thomas grabbed her hand, putting it up to his face.

“Look at me aye? They’re gone. You couldn’t save them alright? Keep going.” He said, his heart tearing at the shock and anguish on her face.

“We have to end this.” Was all she said before she got up, walking past Alfie and shooting at whatever moved. She saw fire whenever she looked at his members, their faces menacing as she pulled the trigger. There were now two of Mosley’s members left, excluding the ten of his men sitting near the stage, blissfully unaware of the carnage that took place behind the scenes.

“Isla wait! Wai-“ Thomas started to say before a sharp pain hit him in the shoulder.

Isla panicked inside as she shoved him out of the way, causing them to fall onto the dark wooden floor.

“Tommy? Tommy! Hey!” She said looking into his eyes as he searched hers.

“Don’t you fucking die on me.” She said, tearing a strip of fabric from her coat as she tied it around his arm.

“It’s just a shot to my shoulder I’ll be fine, love. Go on I’ll be there soon.” He said, wincing as she tied the last knot.

“You better be.” She said, looking into his eyes for a moment before she headed off towards the tunnels.

Her footsteps clamored along the damp floors, echoing as she ran into the darkness. As she made her way down she was dragged forcefully against a wall, a hard punch landing straight to her jaw as she tried to wrestle free.

“Let me go you bastard!” She yelled, grabbing at the mans arms and eventually wrestling her way free. The man swinging as she dodged him.

In a swift motion she retrieved her gun, shooting the man without hesitation, sending him falling back. She looked around after that, scanning the long tunnel for any signs of movement and finding none except a heavy set of boots running in the distance.

“Isla! It’s Arthur! I heard you! You alright?” He asked, almost running into her as her eyes adjusted.

“Y-yeah. Are there anymore down here?” She said panting, looking around and over Arthur’s shoulder.

“No, you got the last one. C’mon we have to get back to the stage.” He said, leading her back to where she’d left Thomas. Her heart dropped as she looked to where he’d been, seeing the blood smeared on the wall of where he once sat.

“Where the fuck did he go? Tom?” Arthur asked, panic in his eyes as he walked towards Alfie and a few of his men.

“Oi! Where did he go?” He asked.

“I’m afraid he went out to the crowd I think. Had a mad look in his eyes mate.” He said, following Isla.

“If he doesn’t make it love...you can always-“

Isla turned on her heels and slapped him, her eyes blazing as she spoke.

“Don’t you fucking say a word. Just do your job.” She said, pulling her machine gun out from around her, the grenades securely put away in her coat as she walked towards the stage.

The crowd was roaring as she crept along the wall, his members in the stands clapping and yelling along with him as his voice carried throughout the track.

“I told the guys near the entrance. The snipers will know.” She heard a voice say behind her. She turned with her gun raised up, only to be met with a pair of blue eyes.

She sighed as she lowered her gun, walking towards him with tears in her eyes.

“How’d you get over there? You’re hurt.” She said, looking at him as he tightened the tourniquet around his arm.

“I ran and snuck through some hallways, made it to one of the upper floors and managed to snag one of the snipers attention.” He said.

“So they’ll know when to shoot?” She asked.

“Yes. Now c’mon. He’s lived far too long already.” He said, sneaking back into the room near Arthur and Alfie and his men, the rest of their small band of connections all gathering there.

“How many have we lost?” She asked, looking at each of their worn faces.

“Three people. They were killed in the fight that happened near the entrance.” One of the hitmen said.

“Alright. I lost my two so that makes five. Let’s just finish this alright? For them?” She asked, hearing what seemed to be the closing music to Mosley’s speech. He stood there with his arms open as if summoning something from above, basking in his own glory for all to see. He stayed there looking down at his notes and dismissing the crowd, before going back to his weird meditative state. Forever relishing in the fact that he managed to pull off one of his largest rallies yet.

“He’s been yelling for half an hour. I think it’s time we shut him up.” One of the men said. Alfie smirked and grabbed his gun, patting Thomas on the back as they glanced at Isla. She looked forward to this moment for ages, knowing all the pain and suffering she went through would finally be worth it.

With a deep breath, she got her gun ready and walked towards the open area near the stage, watching as the followers left in droves. Waiting patiently until the place was almost empty before giving any orders. As the last groups dispersed, she gave a quick few nods to her allies above. As she did so, she looked back at Thomas one last time before she headed towards the stage. The rest of the small crew following after her as they went towards the heavy curtains. The thick fabric being the only thing separating good and evil.

The sounds of bullets fell from above as the snipers aimed at the men below. Their shots taking them out one by one, narrowly missing Isla’s other connections who helped hold them at gun point at their seats.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Mosley opened his eyes at the podium to see his men slaughtered, hearing a slew of footsteps behind him as he turned around. He was soon met with Thomas shoving him to the ground, using his cap to slice his face as he pinned him to the ground.

As his beating ensued, Isla looked around for any other threats, making sure the others went to scope out the place.

As she looked back, her heart raced as she realized this was the moment she trained for.

“You...you can kill him. Go ahead.” Thomas said, breathing heavily and slamming his head into the floor once more before getting up, leaving Mosely a bloodied, battered mess.

She nodded at him, Thomas’ hands were shaking slightly as he wiped his bloodied knuckles on his shirt. Watching as she stalked towards him with her knife.

“I’d shoot him but it would be too quick.” She said aloud.

“Why would you want to kill me sweetheart?” He asked between painful breaths.

“You killed my whole family in a fire remember? All for your stupid party. You fucked with the wrong family though Mosley. Now you’re going to burn.” She said. Slitting his throat slightly so he bled out slowly. The floor turning a slick crimson under her boots as she backed away.

She pulled out a grenade, stepping off the stage.

“Everyone out!” Thomas yelled as they heard everyone scattering out the door. A wicked smirk playing at her lips as she let the pin go. She hurled the grenade onto the stage, grabbing Thomas’ hand as they ran towards the door. The explosion causing them to drop to the ground just outside of the track. The debris from inside the track mixing in the air with the snow that fell frantically outside.

As they sat up on the cold ground, they watched as the flames grew higher. Illuminating the winter sky as the sounds of guns went off in the distance.

Moments later they heard cheers and footsteps running towards them as they shared a cigarette, the shock of the evening not yet snaking it’s way into their bones.

“So uhm...what now?” She asked, smiling as everyone made their way over to them, her eyes still fixed on the flames.

“I say we get drinks...” Arthur said loudly as the fire rumbled through the building before them. The rest of them walked on, leaving Thomas and Isla to themselves along the dirt path they’d walked only hours ago.

“I’ll have to agree with Arthur. Do you want to join?” Thomas asked, a playful smirk gracing his features as he helped her up.

“I will only If your family doesn’t completely hate me, I didn’t exactly give them the best first impression.” She said, walking next to him.

“There’s always room for second chances.” He said.

“Let’s hope so.” She said, holding his hand as they walked towards the car and to whatever else awaited them.

It was in these moments after the chaos that she always dared to hope. Knowing this could one day happen again. But as she grappled with that reality, she knew one thing was for certain. One of their main enemies were gone, never to reign over their lives again. And with careful steps she cautiously looked towards a more hopeful future, knowing that the flames couldn’t touch her. Knowing that despite all the pain they suffered through, that their world would never be the same. That there may come a time where they’ll have to fight again, but for now they could rest easy knowing that justice was served and that her particular deal wasn’t done in vain.

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x female!reader #thomas shelby

[devil-dxrling]

Boredom and Money, No.3

Pairing: Dio x Reader

Warnings: Smut, roughness, blood play, riding crop.

Words: 1693

Summary: Dio shows the reader the greatest high.

That night opened up a new part of my conscience, suddenly, I wanted more. Yes, it was rather easy to stay up to date with all of my work and manage my busy life, but every now and then I would just zone out. My thoughts constantly ran to that ‘Dio’ guy that Diego had talked about. I checked up on the website to see his schedule and, believe it or not, actually called them to book an appointment with him. First time I had ever called to book something, it was a new experience and I was really shy on the phone, I literally had to lock my door and make sure that I had decent soundproofing. Luckily we had a recording studio with soundproofing since one of my friends, Marianne, was a rising artist. When it was time to actually head out, I wore the most basic black skirt, black shirt combo with a pair of black trainers. Obviously, I had my purse with me and I tied my hair up in a ponytail. Not bothering to wear a bra, my breasts bounced as I ran down the stairs - I should’ve taken the elevator. Taking a small boat, I got to the brothel in about 20 minutes. When I walked in, I had 10 minutes before my appointment, so I sat down on one of the couches, and rested on the armrest, scrolling pointlessly through my phone. When the clock struck 7 pm, there were 7 chimes, and just as the last chime ended, I saw Dio strut in and talk to the receptionist. They both spared me a glance before she nodded and Dio walked up to me, offering his hand. Taking it, he led me to the bar and we sat down to talk. We agreed on an arrangement and then sat down to have a couple of drinks. We talked for an hour or so about the most random things, like our birthdays, and favourite food, and the more drunk me got, the more brave we became. We even went as far as to talk about our sexual preferences. He seemed awfully sober compared to me, but I knew he wasn’t FULLY sober. The way his eyes accidentally narrowed down in the most perfect way made my mouth water and the way he smirked and played with my emotions and words made me feel a special type of way. He was completely different for Diego and yet, he played a similar teasing game. He could come off as extremely cocky and self-centred, but that just added to his larger-than-life character. At one point I said the one thing that would change the course of the whole night.

‘You know, I bet I could dominate you if I really wanted to.’

That set off something inside the teasing, cocky, funny Dio I had known. His gaze shifted. Now, his eyes narrowed in malice, and he was fully sober. Just as I put down my drink, he grabbed my by the arm and dragged me out of the bar. Once we were out of the bar, he pushed me against the nearest wall, knelt down, grabbed me by the back of my knees, and threw me over his shoulders. We had already established safe words, and he knew the boundaries I gave him, but this felt weird. I lightly punched his back before giving up and falling limp. I raised my head up to see Diego, he looked at Dio, looked at me, then gave me a shit-eating grin. It boiled my blood as I shouted, ‘Diego, when I’m gone here, I’m coming for your head!’

‘Keep ‘er busy Dio, give me some time to escape ‘eh?’

That bastard with his remarks and comebacks, he was an absolute asshole! Once we got to the room, Dio pulled the handle, kicked open the door, closed it, and locked it.

He threw me onto the bed and said: ‘Undress.’ With that, he walked into what I could only guess was a walk-in closet of some sorts, maybe it connected to the bathroom. He came out shirtless, with a pair of black sweatpants on, holding something is his hands. I was almost done undressing, I just had my panties left, he was really quick after all. The more I looked at it, I realised that he was holding a riding crop.

‘I told you to undress. Why don’t you ever listen?’ He walked up to me and hit my ass with the riding crop before ripping the underwear off. I lightly screamed before I was shoved backwards, my knees hitting the bed as I fell, the soft mattress softening my fall. I went to crawl backwards before he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back towards him.

‘You are not even worthy enough for this cock. You won’t even be able to make me cum with your small, feeble body. I could crush you like a little insect. I’ll slit your neck open and watch you slowly bleed out, squirming, accepting your painful death before you black out. Would you want me to do that?’

‘N… No Dio, please don’t.’

‘Maybe try listening to me for a change!’ The riding crop came down onto my now-pink ass cheek, it stung and brought pleasure at the same time.

‘I won’t hold my breath, kid.’ With that, he lowered his sweatpants and shoved his erect dick into my pussy, giving not a second to adjust to his thicc cock. That riding crop slapped my skin more than I cared to remember. At one point during the night, he threw the crop away and pulled me up onto his lap, glaring into my eyes with that rough anger and passion. He roughly smashed his lips onto mine but wasted no time moving on to my neck where he left his mark. Then, a pan of serious pain struck through me like a wasp’s sting. A scream erupted from the room and pierced the environment, making a glass cup near us shatter. He had just bitten down onto my neck. He lifted his head away from my bleeding neck as a drop of blood ever-so-slowly cascaded down his perfectly carved chin. I don’t know why that turned me on as much as it did, and looking back at it now, it was super silly. Leaning down, I stuck my tongue out and licked the blood off of his smooth chin. It tasted metallic and disgusting but I could feel his dick start twitching under me. I leaned in to kiss him, both our lips bitterly tangy from my blood. It was not a pleasant taste, but it got him much further.

‘You wanna ride me, little girl?’ I gasped as he let those words slip past his lips and nodded. ‘Not like that, now, I want to hear you.’

‘Yes Dio, let me ride you.’ He lifted me up like I was a feather as he laid down and grabbed my ass cheeks. Guess it was my move. Unconfidently, I started to bounce on his cock, until I got the hang of it and started to go faster. It felt like bliss to ride him. We kept going for about 15 minutes and I was about to cum before I was thrown off of him and onto the bed.

‘Sorry, kid, didn’t have a condom on, don’t want to get in trouble with my bosses.’ My mouth gaped open as I looked at him with the most pissed off stare I’ve ever given someone. ‘You fucking jerk! You could’ve put one on before!’

‘Sorry, guess I forgot, you aren’t mad at me, are you?’ He slipped the condom wrapping in between his teeth and ripped it open, slipping the thing material onto his still hard dick. He stood up, discarding his sweatpants, literally walked AROUND the bed to get to me, and sat down in between my open legs as he moved his dick through my folds, giving me that mouth-watering smirk that he gave me at the bar an hour or so back.

‘Let me push you to your limits. I’ll show you what the greatest high can feel like.’ He slammed his cock down into my pussy. This was almost nothing like Diego. Dio wasn’t a tease, he nailed my g-spot every time as he banged me like I was the common whore! Not him, the person actually working at the brothel. He brought me down to a painful reality -  the reality where I was nowhere near as good as he was - his reality. After 20 minutes of being aggressively slammed into by one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen, we both came and just lay there. He threw the condom in the bin and plopped down onto the bed next to me. Pulling me into a hug, he told me he was free for the rest of the night. We fell asleep, drunk, and slightly high on the ecstasy we had just lived.

In the morning, I woke up with a splitting headache, he followed suit soon after, but he didn’t drink as much as I did. Giving me a few pills, he helped me get up, drink some water, and get dressed to leave. While he escorted me out, I saw Diego walk up to us.

‘Dio, ya look like you need some rest before your next job, want me to take beautiful, over here, down to the main lobby for you?’ Dio gave me one last kiss on the neck, where he had bit me, before nodding his head and letting Diego take me.

‘See beautiful, I told you he would show it wouldn’t be that bad. Why do you never listen. Alright, hope you enjoyed your night, I expect ya back! Cya!’ And with that, I made my way out and was almost launched off of my feet by the wind. I didn’t have any  panties on either, since Dio saw fit to rip those last night. Once I got home, I crawled to my room, showered, changed, and fell into deep sleep. Definitely taking the day off.

#jojos bizarre adventure #dio brando #smut #x reader

[wolferals]

audition

Arón Piper imagine

*

saturday, january 18th 11:22pm • Today was Monday, August 22nd and all I've seen since 8am were wannabe actors reading their stupid lines to us pretending they were fucking Johnny Depp himself. God I was so sick of it, but since I've been grounded my dad made me cast people for this movie he was going to direct. Why were you grounded, you may ask. Well let's say, we just moved to Madrid basically to the end of the world since I grew up in America all my life. Yeah, my first days of school didnt really turn out to be super great, my english teacher was super racist in my opinion. She kept making „jokes" about my country/ and at some point i just snapped and told her how she dared to be so fucking racist. My class agreed with me yet my teacher didnt and put me in detention first and then called my dad. So yeah, thats why he's making me do this.

Some might think, its not a punishment to cast people for a „super cool movie" but have u ever been in a all white room for 10 hours listening to the same sentences over and over, being read by the worst people ever? No, exactly.

Its been exactly 4 hours now, its been around 12 when we decided to take a short break to get some food. I walked around the building for a while, grabbed a iced coffee at the bar and then sat down on a couch in the foyer to immediately text my friends from back home about how horrible i was feeling.

I didnt even get to text 5 words until my dad came around the corner saying something like:"Y/n, lets go. The people wont cast themselves. I mean they'd love to but that's our job." He then laughed loudly and almost couldnt stop. One thing about my dad: He thinks he's hilarious but in my opinion he's a little too full of himself. No offense, i love him of course.

Therefore I walked back to the cruel looking white room and sat down on my chair sipping my iced coffee. „Alright, next up, we have a Joshua Hamilton reading for the part of Jamey." I rolled my eyes. Yet again another Jamey. Ive heard the line:"No way Daniel, are you insane?! Have you even thought about the fact that you could get fucking killed?" about 50 times today.

And to be honest, the only person i'd like to get killed right now would be myself.

„Hello, my name is Joshua Hamilton, I'm 22 years old and I'll be reading for the part of Jamey." The tall, skinny looking guy then spoke after *extremely happy looking* entered the room. Well no offense but super happy people make me puke.

He then read his lines, horribly. He was just too enthusiastic and grinning through the entire thing. It was supposed to be a mad Jamey yelling at his brother who was about to attack his ex girlfriend's killer.

Dad then told him, they will call him. But lets be honest here, obviously they wont. • Alright so another 4 hours passed and we had almost all important characters casted, except Jamey. The crew was getting impatient and we were all super tired. „Dad how many are left?" I then asked because I wanted nothing more than this to end. „26." he answered, sounding annoyed. So was I. „Jeez, for fucks sake." I exclaimed and leaned back in my chair. „Y/n, watch your language!" He scoffed and took a sip of his water before leaning back as well.

„Okay next off we have a Arón Piper. He is Spanish-German, which wouldnt quite match with the way we pictured Jamey. But lets get the guy, kay?" Evan, the producer spoke after reading some reviews.

„Mhm." my Dad hummed. He seemed extremely tired and messed up to be fair.

As I said, I was annoyed and super damn hungry but the second this guy walked in, all my senses were on and I couldnt help but stare at him. He was tall, had curly hair, an earring on his left ear, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could kill. „Hola,, I'm Arón." My dad seemed to like him too because he sat up straight scanning him up and down. „How old are you Arón?" Lucy, the executive producer asked him, smiling as well. „I'm 23." The handsome guy answered calm and sent me his billion dollar smile.

fuck • I smiled back and for whatever fucking reason I just said:"You must be working out, am I right?" Everyone looked at me but I didnt care, I just looked him right in the eyes and saw him laugh. „Y/n what the hell?" My dad whispered sounding pissed yet confused. „Jamey is a fit dude, he goes to the gym 6 times a week. We have to consider the fact that the actor has to be healthy and all as well." I tried to get out of the weird situation but actually I was just wishing for him to take off his shirt to show us -okay, me- his amazing abs I bet he had. „Uhm to be honest, I just dance, thats it. But you could call that a work out since Ive been doing it since I was 7 years old."

The others seemed impressed too, so Lucy cockily said:"So if acting wouldnt work, youd become a professional dancer?" Arón laughed again and answered:"Yeah, probably. But i havent even read my lines yet."

The entire time he was acting his lines, I was just staring at his god like face, every emotion, every move, every little change in his body language was perfect. My dad looked like he was impressed too and he then, after Arón had finished, spoke:"Thank you, Arón. That was amazing!" He smiled happily and answered fully paying attention:"Oh gracias, it means so much coming from you!" He walked up to my dad to shake his hand and then took back his portfolio. „Honey what do you think? Should we put him in round 2?" I looked over to my dad, took a glance at Arón who was smiling cutely at me. „Nah."

Everyone gave me a confused look and in Arón´s eyes I could see pure fear.

„I think we should give him the part.“

My dad smiled, nodded at me and then spoke:“Alright, Arón Piper, congratulations.“

Arón walked over to me and stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I slowly took his hand and, okay that might sound weird, but it felt so damn good to touch him. God I sound like a creep. No but for real his hand was a lot bigger than mine and really warm compared to my -always cold- claws. „Gracias." he said quietly and stared directly into my eyes while smiling. I wanted to say something like:"Of course, you deserve it, you were amazing." but i just couldnt, i wasnt able to look anywhere but into his beautiful brown eyes.

My dad saw that and cleared his throat loudly. „Thank you again Arón, we will call you next week for further information. But for now, since Jamey is the main male protagonist and we will be filming most of the scenes with you, we'd like to invite you and the other main actors to a dinner party tomorrow night. We hope you're free and we would text you further dates later on today."

-„Yes I'm free, that'd be amazing! Thank you so much! See you tomorrow then, bye guys." He grabbed his jacket from off the floor and left the room smiling brightly.

-„We've got it! We found, first of all the perfect Jamey, and we finally have all the actors, people!" Lucy shouted and sighed relieved. „Alright then, lets celebrate!" My dad exclaimed happily and the others stood up after him. „I'll be right out, I'll go to the bathroom real quick." I informed the guys and just simply hit the bathroom next to the audition room. When i checked back to see if the room had been locked, I noticed that a portfolio book was left on the table. I grabbed it, opened it and and noticed it was Arón's.

Right, he grabbed it before, then shook our hands and put it down again. Then he walked out without it.

So I quickly locked the door and ran through the building, past my dad saying:"Be right back." I figured, Arón couldnt have gotten very far, so I sprinted down the stairs, out of the front door of the building and i looked around if I might spot him. I then saw a guy that looked like him walking down the street towards a silver car and i ran as fast as i could to reach him.

„Arón!" I yelled and stopped once I finally reached him. „Yeah?" he was about to get in the car but turned around. „You forgot that." I passed him his book and tried to catch my breath real quick. „Oh god, thank you! I totally forgot about that. Gracias." He took it smiling.

While I was trying to breath, he opened the car door and said:"Just a second." Me, still dying from all the running, I was now leaning against a wall. „You okay?" -„Huh? Yeah. Im.. good." I was kind of embarrassed at how unathletic i was. „U sure?" he came closer and looked actually quite concerned. „Ya dont worry. Uhm.. See you.. tomorrow..at the.. party?" i tried to play it off and stood straight again Arón smiled again and answered:"Of course. Cant wait!" He then walked back to the car and sent me another smile before getting in.

Damn, this guy.

#aronpiper #aron x reader #elite #cute #casting acting #imagine

[myownworstenemyyy]

Listen I need some AIWWY directors cut please 🥺

ahhh beautiful, amazing, wonderful Aeryn! you know i got a soft spot for that series, especially since it brought you into my life 🥺👉👈😍💕

okay, as you know, the main plot of the story is that Reader is taken hostage and gets tortured and then Javi rescues her and the whole second half of the series is how she copes with her experience and her and Javi’s relationship. 

the idea for the series actually came from your AMAZING fics, Husband (with Javi) and Protector (with Din) - i absolutely love the idea of waking up in a hospital and having one character confess their love for the other, that shit gets me EVERY TIME 😭 and then the angst/torture of the Din fic just *clenches fist* does things for me

and speaking of torture 😏 here’s what i originally wrote as the opening scene for Part 1, in which Reader was already taken but it was like intentional/part of the DEA’s plan to catch Pablo (warning: torture, blood)

"Is th-that all you -- got?" you manage to mumble after receiving what felt like the hundredth hit to the face. This Narcos asshole has been going at you for the past two hours and you've just about reached your limit on how many blows your face can take. They should be here by now, you think to yourself as your personal torturer takes a break to wipe your blood off his hands, something in Spanish to one of his "colleagues" on the other side of the room.

not that strong, so you can see why i didn’t actually go with this plot 😅

ALSO (we're gonna skip ahead to Part 6), i originally wrote Serpiente as being shot point blank as soon as Javi entered the cabin where reader was being held, just because i fucking hated that guy and wanted him GONE 😂 but then i realized it would be more satisfying to have Javi beat the shit out of him instead. here’s the little bit i first wrote for that scene:

he spots a tall, lanky man hovering over what looks to be a person sitting in a chair - Y/N. Before the tall man can even react, Javier has already put a bullet between his eyes. He’s dead before his body hits the ground.

and originally i had the other guy get the shit beat outta him 😂 cuz he was hella creepy and gross and i wanted him to SUFFER. so here’s what i had written (again the writing might be a little cringy lol):

Then Javier sees another man in the corner, with one knee on the ground and propping himself up with the other as he has a violent coughing fit. Javier shoots him in the shoulder, making the man cry out in pain and fall onto his back with a loud thud. Javier doesn’t bother looking through the rest of the cabin since he hears Steve commanding the other agents to search the house behind him. With his gun still drawn he stalks over to the man he shot in the shoulder who’s now crying, holding his arm as blood seeps through his open wound. Javier scowls once he realizes this must be the man the bartender was talking about - the one who took you. Javier doesn’t remember grabbing the man by the collar of his ugly green button-up only to punch him hard in the face, sending him back to the floor. He does this several times, all the while shouting obscenities in two different languages at the sobbing man, “MOTHER-” punch to the face, “-FUCKER,”    another blow, “HIJO DE,” yet another punch, “PUTA - TE VOY A MATAR,” Javier lands a punch to the man’s face with a crack. Whether the crack is from Javier’s own hand or the other man’s bloody face, he doesn’t know - and I don’t really give a fuck either. Javier keeps wailing on the half-conscious man until Steve is forced to grab him by the waist, forcing him to release the man’s now limp form and stand with his back against Steve’s front. “Alright, partner, we gotta leave him within at least an inch of his life so we can question him,” Steve releases him, knowing full well that if he restrains Javier one second longer, Steve will be the next one earning a blow to the face.

and for Part 7 there was a whole part where Reader got like triggered by something the nurse said and she starts to have flashbacks of being tortured but i thought it was too much angst for what wanted to be a fluffy chapter (which is what it turned out to be) so i moved those flashbacks to Part 10 (ie, the Shower™ scene 😏) but that’s a lot to type out and I'm getting kinda nauseous from looking at my computer screen lol

I've got lots more commentary on this series, but for now I'll leave you with this 🥰 ilysm, thanks Aeryn! 😘💕💗💗💗

#aiwwy series #love you aeryn! #my writing #commentary #thanks love

[shinobi98]

Since I recently started Black Clover and I'm already invested in it I'd like to do a rating of the characters I've met so far at ep 35 (basically when Yami and Licht are fighting in that cave).

Asta: all his shouting gives me headache and he'd a weird mix between Naruto, Rin Okamura and Midoriya but I love him. I have a feeling I'll dislike him later on when he inevitably will become OP, but for now he's a really sweet boy. My only problem with him is that he already has 3 love interests, how?? 8/10

Yuno: he reminds me a lot of Yukio Okamura from Blue Exorcist, but ten times more likable. I thought he would be the rival turned villain who Asta would chase across the world (cough Sasuke cough) due to his character design but now I think he was just introvert and competitive and a little smug, but he's real nice. When he does his little smile he's really cute. Not as big of a jerk as he could have been. 6/10

Noelle: when we first see her, I thought she would be a shy and soft spoken, blushing useless healer, so I was pleasantly surprised when we actually got to see her personality. A bit too tsundere sometimes, but it was surprising. I wish she'd learn to control her magic some, though, so we could actually see her in battle. Also her love story with Asta is kinda cringey, hope they develop into a nice friendship. 6/10

Black Bulls:

Magna-senpai: I thought he was part of the main trio, but looks like Asta and Noelle have a different sidekick ever arc. Shame because I liked him. A delinquent version of FFXV Ignis. His baseball themed magic is really cool, like his broom. He's like Asta big bro. 7/10

Luck: what kinda name is Luck? Anyway, I thought he was 12 and turns out he's 18 OMG, he looks like a baby. Not sure if he's cute or a maniac with that creepy smile lol his obsession with fighting annoyed me at first but after we learnt his story I'll cut him some slack. 7/10

Finral: aka Loke from Fairy Tail. I feel bad for him because he's always bossed around but damn, does he fight at all? His magic his hard to use in combat, I'll give him that, but he's like Yami's transport and nothing more. RIP. He's still funny though. 6/10

Vanessa: her surname cracks me up because it literally means "wine shop" in my language, although it's pretty fitting I guess? I also refer to her as Cana because she's totally Cana from Fairy Tail minus daddy issue. For now she ain't much, but I hope she'll get an arc focused on her later on because she seems interested and a good person. 6/10

Gordon: he looked like a goddamn villain. Then we find out he's just really shy... But also a creep that keeps a journal about his "best friend" Asta so idk what to think about this guy honestly. 5/10

Gray: idk. Cool magic, but he never talks. 3/10

Gauche: his back history was so interesting! He think he's the first Black Bull to be introduced as noble (besides Noelle)? Poor guy had it rough. And he doesn't go on and on about saving people like the rest of the Knights, which is nice because it gives him and interesting character flaw but... Stop. Obsessing. About. Your. Sister. That's creepy. At first I thought it was a joke but now idk. He's on thin fucking ice. 6/10

Charmy: she's not just a comic relief. She's badass??? She got promoted up so many ranks?? Does that mean she's highest ranking after Yami? Anyway, she's really funny and nice! Just stop that romance thing with Yuno, it's unnecessary. 7/10

Yami: he's so annoying. I don't even know why. He does nothing, he sleeps all day and bosses people around, yet all Black Bulls are there kissing his ass. Needs some class on anger menagement too. 4/10

Others:

Klaus: he's my favorite character, I simply love him. After the Dungeon he was so sweet omg I can't. He's just very bad at conveying his emotions but he's definitely the best senpai. He single-handedly made my like the Golden Dawn. 10/10

Mimosa: Despite my hate for healers in these kind of settings, I really like her. Hopefully she'll be endgame with Asta. 8/10

Fuegoleon: His name is a bit too much and hard to spell he is my favorite character ever. He seemed just simply another royal jackass but he's so nice, loyal, strong, caring, he's perfect. 11/10

Leopold: after his brother and Klaus, definitely one of my faves. His brOTP with Asta is really nice too. Lowkey ship him with Noelle but I'm still figuring out whether they are relatives or not lol. 10/10

Nozel: disliked him from square one. He's entertaining to watch, but he's mean without a reason. Improved a little at the end of the attack on the royal city, since he wants to avenge Fuegoleon, but not much. 4/10

Solid/Nebra: crazy madman bitch, too full of himself for his own good and the same, but female. I don't like either of them. 2/10

Julius Novachrono: or whatever it's his name. He should take things more seriously, but he's overall nice. Too bad he's probably a traitor, I can't trust him. 7/10

William Vangeance : this one definitely is a traitor, but tries to be nice too hard. Besides, he's dressed like a clown. 4/10

Baddies:

Licht: he cares for his comrades so that's good but he doesn't care when civilians or kids are harmed or killed, which is less cool, especially since he's a self-righteous asshole. Also terribly OP. 5/10

Sally: (is that her name?). Hanje Zoe's from SnK and Franken Stein's from Soul Eater love child, but crazier? Calm down girl. Why are you so obsessed with dissecting Asta lol or poor random orphan children, which is probably worse. But she's the best out of the Eye of the Midnight Sun. 6/10

Rades: is he going to be a big deal? I surely hope not. For a change we could have a villain that is not completely bat shit crazy 3/10

That's it. I made it mainly because when I get to the end I'll look back at this and laugh at what I said, or cringe.

#black clover

[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Live blogging the Hobbit pt.7

Flies And Spiders

I’ve been looking forward to this one.

“There were black squirrels in the wood. As Bilbo’s sharp inquisitive eyes got used to seeing things he could catch glimpses of them whisking off the path and scuttling behinf tree-trunks.” I should write a fic about this myself, but I think it would be a funny scene to have Bilbo, with his sharper eyesight, mention the squirrels and the dwarves just. Have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about? What squirrels?? Bilbo: … the squirrels. Dwarves: wut. B:The squirrels that run around every once in a while. And him trying to point them out but being unable to because of their speed and their black colour. Eventually, after they’ve been in the woods a while, becoming irritable and kinda muddled and just really freaked out, Bilbo snaps and out of nowhere throws a rock at one of them, only stunning it, but effectively bringing it down. The dwarves are all like, Bilbo wtf, both because it was very sudden and because they didn’t know he had that good of an aim, but he just goes “you see it? you see it? oh thank heavens I was starting to think I was going crazy and just imagining it.” That’s when they decide to try to shoot them and eat them and when they realise… well, I’ll keep it for that bulletpoint.

“Even the dwarves felt it, who were used to tunneling, and lived at times for long whiles without the light of the sun; but the hobbit, who liked holes to make a house in but not to spend summer days in, felt that he was being slowly suffocated.”

Lmao why does he always get the worst of it? Tolkien, I’ll see you in hell.

“They tried shooting the squirrels, and they wasted many arrows before they managed to bring one down on the path. But when they roasted it, it proved horrible to taste, and they shot no more squirrels.”

Here it is, back to the story, they hunt the squirrels, realise they’re gross, and are like, “Bilbo, you’re the most weirdly skillful yet useless person we’ve ever met.”

‘Dori is the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and still has the best sight.” Fili is the what

“All the time he was wondering whether there were spiders in the tree, and how he was going to get down again (except by falling).”

why not

“They did not care tuppence about the butterflies, and ere only made more angry when he told them of the beautiful breeze, which they were too heavy to climb up and feel.” It is kind of tacky, Bilbo

Double fuck, my bookmark fell off and the spine got cracked. This has literally never happened to me before D:<

In theory, leaving a mark that something’s been used and loved is a concept I like. In practice? This is bothering me.

“That night they ate the last scraps and crumbs of food; and next morning when they woke the first thing they noticed was that they were still gnawingly hungry, and the nest thing was that it was raining and that here and there the drip of it was dropping heavily on the forest floor.” I mean, they’ve eaten the last of the food and they’re still hungry — chances are that even if they’d known they were almost out of the woods, they wouldn’t have made it anyway. (So certain authors can stow it.)

“There were many people there, elvish-looking folk, all dressed in green and brown and sitting on sawn rings of the felled trees in a great circle.” Why elvish-looking and not just elves?

“They were lost in a completely lightless dark and they could not even find one another, not for a long time at any rate. After blundering frantically in the gloom, falling over logs, bumping crash into trees, and shouting and calling till they must have waked everything in the forest for miles, at last they managed to gather themselves in a bundle and count themselves by touch.” First off, I want to serve this as an example of and proof that Tolkien, while not going quite so low as to make scatological and fart jokes, used plenty of slapstick comedy. Second, oh my god you guys, that is not the way to find each other in the dark!

“Thorin said: ‘No rushing forward this time! No one is to stir from hiding till I say. I shall send Mr. Baggins alone first to talk to them. They won’t be frightened of him--(‘What about me of them?’ thought Bilbo)-- and any way I hope they won’t do anything nasty to him.’” All praise the fearless and generous leader! 

It reminds me of a fanfic I really like, still in progress, where the fanon dynamic for Bagginshield (and indeed, most common tropes of romance) gets subverted by having Thorin trust and rely on Bilbo to protect him instead of being overprotective. It was started after the first movie but before the others, and I can really see it in the book. (Of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that Tolkien didn’t write it to be romantic.)

“‘They are the best I am likely to get in this beastly place,’ he mutteres, ad he lay down beside the dwarves and tried to go back to sleep and find his dream again.” Dwarf(and hobbit)pile!

“He was deep in thoughts of bacon and eggs and toast and butter when he felt something touch him. Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he fell over. 

Then the great spider, who had been busy tying him up while he dozed, came from behind him and came at him.” Almost executed for daydreaming about breakfast in the middle of Mirkwood at night crimes.

“He beat the creature off with his hands--it was trying to poison him to keep him quiet, as small spiders do to flies--until he remembered his sword and drew it out.”

Bilbo: *balls up fists and swings them like cartoon boxer* Let’s do this Shire style!

But also, I want to point out that it says he beat it off not tried to beat it off. That implies success.

Also, I’m kind of freaked out at the implication that that’s a small spider.

“Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke; and then he fell down and remembered nothing more for a long while.

There was the usual dim grey light of the forest-day about him when he came to his senses.” Fair.

“Bilbo was a pretty fair shot with a stone, and it did not take him long to find a nice smooth egg-shaped one that fitted his hand cosily. As a boy he used to practise throwing stones at things, until rabbits and squirrels, and even birds, got out of his was as quick as lightning if they saw him stoop; and even grow--up he had still spent a deal of his time at quoits, dart-throwing, shooting at the wand, bowls, ninepins and other quiet games of the aiming and throwing sort--indeed he could do lots of things, besides blowing smoke-rings, asking riddles and cooking, that I haven’t had time to tell you about. There is no time now.” There are so many levels of hilarity here, like

1- Bilbo used to be a fucking menace. And he didn’t quite get over it either!

2- They only ran away when he stooped? This just makes me think that he might have done nice things to make them at least tolerate him otherwise, instead of outright avoiding him or attacking him. Like, “ah, it’s that little boy, who’ll either feed us, he’s so nice and- uh oh he stooped, time to go boys.” Alternatively, it’s genetic memory warning them away from Bilbo. I was thinking maybe it was about all hobbits, but it does say “until they got out of his way”, meaning there was a time when they didn’t.

3- That’s such a hilariously late time in the story to introduce us to the fact that the main character has not only good aim but a strong enough arm to throw a stone right through a giant spider’s web, which would be thicker and probably more durable than the normal variety, already stronger than steel. And then kill the spider on the other side.

4- “Other quiet games of the aiming and throwing sort.” Idk man, other games of the sort, figure it out yourself.

5- I want to know about the other stuff Bilbo can do.

“This is what he sang:

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!

Old fat spider can’t see me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Won’t you stop,

Stop your spinning and look for me?

Old Tomnoddy, all big body.

Old Tomnoddy can’t spy me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Down you drop!

You’ll never catch me up your tree!

Not very good perhaps, but then you must remember that he had to make it up himself, on the spur of a very awkward moment.” Tolkien, shut up, it’s beautiful.

Also, lol, about to be eaten by spiders, how awks.

“Standing now in the middle of the hunting and spinning insects Bilbo plucked up his courage and began a new song.” Bilbo: If I’m gonna die, it’s gonna be as annoyingly as possible.

Honestly, though, this is my favourite song in the book.

“Bilbo’s next job was to loose a dwarf.” Very different from losing a dwarf, which he’s already done x14 (Thorin counts twice, especially considering he hasn’t even realized he’s lost him yet).

“Suddenly Bilbo noticed that some of the spiders had gathered round old Bombur on the floor, and had tied him up again and were dragging him away. He gave a shout and slashed at the spiders in front of him. They quickly gave way, and he scrambled and fell down the tree right into the middle of those on the ground. His little sword was something new in the way of stings for them. How it darted to and fro! It shone with delight as he stabbed at them. Half a dozen were killed before the rest drew off and left Bombur to Bilbo.” Bilbo’s gone berserk.

Also, Sting shone with delight? What a bloodthirsty blade.

“Away behind them now the shouting and singing suddenly stopped.” DUN DUN DUUUUUN

“Things were looking pretty bad again, when suddenly Bilbo reappeared, and charged into the astonished spiders unexpectedly from the side.

‘Go on! Go on!” he shouted. “I will do the stinging!”

And he did. He darted backwards and forwards, slashing at spider-threads, hacking at their legs, and stabbing at their fat bodies if they came too near. The spiders swelled with rage, and spluttered and frothed, and hissed out horrible curses; but they had become mortally afraid of Sting, and dared not come very near, now that it had come back. So curse as they would, their prey moved slowly but steadily away. It was a most terrible business, and seemed to take hours.” Love this part. All very heroic.

“They knew only too well that they would soon all have been dead if it had not been for the hobbit; and they thanked him many times. Some of them even got up and bowed right to the ground before him, though they fell over with the effort, and could not get on their legs again for some time.” I can imagine Bilbo all flustered, going “good. Hope you’ve learned your lesson and won’t be doing that again. Limit yourself to fawning.”

“All of a sudden Dwalin opened an eye, and looked round at them. ‘Where is Thorin?’ he asked.”Lmao, finally!

“They differed from the High Elves of the West, and were more dangerous and less wise.” Feral.

“All this was well known to every dwarf, though Thorin’s family had had nothing to do with the old quarrel I have spoken of. Consequently Thorin was angry at their treatment of him, when they took their spell off and he came to his senses.” Another change done for the movie: Thorin’s family wasn’t involved in the feud.

Also lmao this weapon, a prisoner and all “how dare you”.

I’m not going to talk about the conversation between Thorin and Thranduil bc it’s probably been done to death.

Definitely my favourite chapter this far. Main character’s skills and learned courage begins to show? Check. He uses them in a fight that gives him extra confidence? Check. Heroics mixed with witty commentary and one-liners? Check. Team begins to see them in a new, more positive light? Check. Elves being made fun of and painted as kinda ridiculous? Check. (This one’s very subjective ig.) 

#The Hobbit #liveblogging #Bilbo Baggins #Thorin Oakenshield III #dwarves #hobbits #The Company of Thorin Oakenshield #Gandalf #Elves #Mirkwood #Spiders

[rwbyconversations]

The four RWBY girls alongside Michael Jones and Vic Mignonga had a panel on July 14th at Florida Supercon. 

Panel finally starts after five minutes and a tangent about Titanic. Michael does a runway walk while people queue up for questions, Vic beatboxes for him.

Would the RWBY girls say that their friendship is as close as RWBY’s friendship? A: Basically, yes. Lindsay notes that she’s more like Weiss when talking with Kara and Kara is more like Ruby in that Lindsay constantly dunks on Kara. Arryn notes that Blake never talks to Ruby, so she’s got that over Blake.

Of all the characters in RWBY, which would you like to see development for? Also can I have a hug? A: Hugs are promised at the booth after the panel. Arryn: “I will touch you so hard.. in the most appropriate way possible”. As for the question, Lindsay would like to see more of Neo. Kara says Mama Schnee. Arryn says Zwei. Barbara says that she’d love to see Ruby get some development. “Out of all the main cast, we have yet to learn more about her.” Vic goes with Oscar, partly for the selfish reason of getting to hang out with Arron Dismuke (Oscar’s voice actor). “He’s my little baby brother who’s now 7′4, and he went from ‘brother!’ to ‘BROTHER.’” Michael chooses Neptune.

How is everyone today? A: Great! Q: In between all the voice acting stuff, do you find the personal time to do what you want? A: Lindsay: “I mean, we had a kid, so... yeah.” Barbara notes that recording for RWBY and other RT Animation shows is just something that takes an hour a week. Arryn notes that since acting is her full-time job, she doesn’t exactly like having downtime. “Please give me a job!” Vic stabs the viewer in the heart by saying “I’m doing what I want right now.” 

Does your voice ever get tired out, especially among the people who shift from Achievement Hunter to RWBY? A: Lindsay notes the big difference in going from AH to RWBY in that “Achievement Hunter is... Achievement Hunter and RWBY is family friendly!” She goes on to say that the most exhausting thing is ‘efforts’ or battle sounds. Ruby’s voice is difficult when it comes to crying and yelling. Michael admits he takes horrible care of his voice- other VAs have special teas and honeys to calm their throats down, but when Michael’s not doing VA work he’s usually screaming. Sun is based on Michael’s normal voice and as a consequence, he’s pretty hard to do if Michael is just out of a Let’s Play. Vic notes you can damage your voice from over-usage and that it’s important to know when to stop.

Would you rather ship Jaune with Pyrrha, Weiss (Kara raises her hand) or Ruby? A: Lindsay: “Let’s remove that third one from the equation. Ruby’s in a relationship with herself right now.” Barb: “I would like to see some Jaune/Sun.” Arryn: “Sun’s in love with Blake.” Michael jokingly laments that “volume after volume,” Sun’s been doing his best for Blake. Arryn more seriously says that “Jaune needs to focus on himself. He had his chance with a girl and he screwed it up.” Arryn then notes that Blake also needs to do some introspection. 

If RWBY fought Sun and Qrow, who’d come out on top? A: Lindsay isn’t sure Qrow would go all out against Ruby, even if it was a training match. Arryn and Lindsay both consciously snub Yang. (Lindsay: “Would Qrow really fight his lovely niece?” Arryn: “The one he’s so clearly obsessed with? I’m sorry, who are you again Yang?”) They pretty much all agree that Qrow’s Semblance would sabotage Team Drunken Monkey. Michael says Sun would hang back and let Qrow figure it out.

Vic, how did you come up with Qrow’s voice? The girls do Qrow impressions of varying quality. Vic shares a story of how he got into RWBY; at a panel in Perth back in 2014, Lindsay and Michael shared some footage of RWBY that got Vic hooked. As far as the voice, they sent him some test images of Qrow and some lines that he recorded in LA and sent to them. He did a few different voices, they picked one and the rest is history. Most of the rest of the group used something close to their natural voice. Barbara initially had a higher pitch for Yang but she toned it down. Arryn uses the same voice but changes her speech pattern. Lindsay based Ruby’s squeak on her own self-deprecating jokes about being the chubby kid. Ruby’s Volume 1 voice was because they weren’t sure how innocent Ruby was supposed to be. Michael says Sun’s voice nowadays is based on a surfer bro without the accent. There’s another bit of teasing for the Black Sun fans when Michael laments that Blake keeps shooting Sun down (”He’s trying though!”) and Arryn bemoans how oblivious Blake is. Barbara tries to fit in a Bumblebee joke about her loving Yang. 

Q: Did Ruby have a goth phase? Lindsay notes that Ruby is now sixteen as of Volume 5 (Arryn wonders if this means that Blake’s finally eighteen). Lindsay jokes that Ruby likes going to Fall Out Boy concerts. Arryn once had black hair with red tips like Ruby.

What weapons would the show be able to come up besides what’s already been seen? A: Arryn: “Well the show isn’t capable of ideas.” The question was meant to be “What kind of weapons would you come up with for a new character?” Barbara says a “gun-gun,” a gun that shoots guns. Vic: “I like to keep it simple. What I do is I take a bottle, and I break it. And then I cut you.” Arryn would love to see some kind of fan weapon. Kara: “What about a frisbee?” Michael likes the idea of a game controller that turns into a whip. The fan also has a statement that Blake isn’t the only black cat he knows that’s completely oblivious to love (Adrian from Miraculous Ladybug)

What does RWBY mean to you? Barb: “It means Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang.” Vic: “Can we change it to QRWBY?” Arryn talks about how much RWBY changed her life and let her find her dream job. Kara: “It’s been amazing, I have no words.” 

A Ruby cosplayer made bracelets for RWY. Arryn got hers on-stage. Q: Any advice for anyone who wants to get into voice acting? A: Lindsay says getting into VA work is a little bit of luck, but it comes down to who you know and how you network with people. Fan dubs are a great jumping off point since directors keep up with that. Yuri Lowenthal (Merucry Black) and his wife Tara Platt (Kali) have a three-part series on Youtube that covers how to make a great demo reel as a voice actor. Vic says to take any chance you can to develop your skills. Most of the actors he knows didn’t start as voice actors, they just performed wherever they could. Basically, never say no to any acting gig, get into community theater and go to acting school. “One thing you need more than talent, is a thick skin.” 

If you guys could switch characters with someone here who would it be? A: Michael: “I’M YANG!” Lindsay and Weiss would swap. Arryn would be Sun or Yang. Barb would do Qrow. Vic in his Qrow voice: “I’m Weiss. I drink a lot.” Lindsay: Like mother like daughter! Vic at the end of the question: “I’d like to play Winter so I can lose to myself in a fight!”

How do you guys get into character? Arryn: “Don’t really have to do anything any more.” Kara watches the most recent episodes to get into Weiss’s mindset. She also records in heels since it helps her posture, unless it’s a fight scene. For Chibi/Volume 1-3 Yang, Barbara would cause chaos and build her energy up, but for Volume 4/5, she’d wear a big hoodie like “emo yang.” Lindsay finds a theme song for her characters. For Ruby she uses anime OPs like Lucky Star (Beacon) or Red Like Roses Part 2 (Volume 4-5 Ruby). Michael runs in circles to build up energy for Sun, if he plays Max from Camp Camp he starts swearing up a storm. When he’s driving in he’ll shout along with songs on the radio.

Michael, favorite character that’s not Sun? Winter. 

Who can do the best robot dance? Barbara.

Who do you ship in RWBY? (DAMNIT WE NEARLY MADE IT TO THE END WITHOUT THIS FUCKING QUESTION GAAAAAA) Barb- Bumblebee. Kara- White Knight. Lindsay- Nuts and Dolts. Vic- the USS Enterprise. 

Barbara, how was it to provide your voice for Blazblue? She rapid-fire says “I nearly lost my voice from all the power up sounds.”

Barbara, how can fans support Rooster Teeth beyond just buying First? A: Watch the shows, First is the absolute best way to support them.

Do you believe in destiny? Yes. Favorite OST song? Lindsay- Red Like Roses Part 2. Arryn and Michael- This Will Be The Day. Barb- Gold and Cold. 

Barbara, is Yang gay? Barb: “I don’t know, I kinda hope so though.”

Where are Yang’s puns? A: Watch Chibi. 

Arryn, when is Blake gonna stop being so melodramatic? “I’ve already ended it. Just wait!” 

#rwby #florida supercon #lindsay jones #kara eberle #arryn zech #barbara dunkelman #michael jones #vic mignogna #rwby panel #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #qrow branwen #sun wukong

[sunbrights]

fic: somewhere surely lived (7/14)

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: fuyuhiko & peko as main POV characters + a "relationship of the day" character + some side characters. kuzupeko + 6 secondary ships. rating: e (not all chapters have smut, but a fair number of them do) summary: Hope's Peak is not just a dating program; it's a guarantee. With the right compatible partner, the benefits are endless: boosted life expectancy, improved self-esteem, increased productivity, new opportunities, better overall work and life satisfaction. For society's elite, Hope's Peak makes finding that partner straightforward, if not easy.

It provides an Ultimate Match-- provided the participants are willing to go through its paces.

(AU based on the Black Mirror episode, "Hang the DJ.")

read on AO3

He’s late. He knows that even before he gets dumped off at the central hub. His device had beeped at him in the middle of the afternoon and he ignored it, kept ignoring it, until a preset alarm kicked in half an hour before and wouldn’t shut off until he manually dismissed it.

He’s not going to stand someone up. He’s not that kind of guy. It’s just exhausting, the idea of it, having to go back to that same fucking booth and talk about the same fucking shit and go through the same fucking motions until it’s over. A day, a week, a month, a year— it ends the same, no matter what.

So, he’s late.

She’s already at the table waiting. She hasn’t ordered her food, or touched her wine glass. She’s sitting there at an empty table with her hands in her lap, and the twist of shame in his stomach speeds his feet up.

She looks up at him when he gets there, and it’s only then, that close and at that angle, that the recognition hits him. She has high cheekbones, pale hair, and bright, focused eyes. The dim lighting of the restaurant softens out the harshness of her face a little, or maybe that’s just because he knows better now.

The careful neutrality in her expression opens up into surprise.

“Oh,” she says. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He puts his hand on the back of the booth. “... I know you, don’t I?”

“Yes,” she answers. “We met at Ruruka and Sounosuke’s pairing day, a few months ago. You might not remember, but—”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I remember.” He slices the air with his index finger. Color rises in her cheeks. It brings out her eyes.

“I didn’t get your name, before,” she says. “I wanted to thank you. For…”

“Fuyuhiko,” he tells her. “And don’t mention it.”

She smiles, that little curve that’s almost not a smile. “Peko,” she answers.

His stomach is doing something stupid. He told himself he wouldn’t let himself get dragged down this early in the game.

She holds her hand out. “... Would you like to sit?”

Right. “Right.” He unbuttons the front of his jacket and slides into the booth. “Sorry. Made you wait this whole time and now I’m just standing around like an asshole.”

“It’s alright,” she says. She turns in her seat, opens up her purse, and then she has her device in her palm, held out over the table. She looks back at him expectantly.

Right.

He fishes in his jacket for his, and thumbs through the options: Main, Info, Expiration. It’s just a button. If they both tap their screens at the same time, the system will tell them how long they have.

He looks up at her. She must already be on the right screen, because she’s watching him, one finger poised over her device. She’s still smiling that little not-smile. He tries to put ‘thirty-six hours’ to her face, and his stomach sinks. He tries ‘eight months,’ and feels sick.

Technically, checking the date is a choice. The system doesn’t force it. It’s just that everyone does check. Why would you not want to know if you were about to waste your time?

Impulse grabs him. “What if we didn’t?” he asks.

She frowns. “Didn’t?”

“Didn’t check it. Didn’t know.”

She looks down at her screen. Her finger curls back around the edge of the device.

“Just— Listen, hear me out,” he says. “What’s the point of knowing, anyway? No matter how long it is, you still just end up waiting for it to be over. You’re setting yourself up, every single fucking time.”

“I suppose,” she says dubiously.

“How about this,” he says, “if either of us ever decides we do want to know, we look. No questions asked. But to start out…” He shakes his jacket back open, puts the device away, and shows her his empty hands. “You and me. That’s it.”

Something about that gets her attention. She looks up at him, contemplative.

“If you decide right now you want to know, we’ll look,” he tells her. “But… how about it?”

She sets the device aside on the table. “Yes,” she says, and her eyes are warm. “Alright.”

He finds himself smiling, too. “Great.”

*

The house has a full kitchen.

It’s a stupid thing to be relieved about, after he just got done trying to make an argument for not checking the expiration, but it at least means they made it past the thirty-six hour mark and the two week mark. He’s okay with that.

(She runs her hand over the wide granite island, and lingers there. Maybe she's relieved, too.)

“You can have the bed,” he calls back to her, when he goes for the extra blanket in the bedroom. It's in the same style, in the same place, like always. “I’ll sleep on the couch for now.”

She looks at him from across the kitchen. She says, “... Why?” like he’s just suggested the dumbest thing she's ever heard.

“Because,” he says. “I’m not gonna force you to share the bed with me on the first night.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she answers. “It’s fine. There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable when there’s room enough for both of us.”

“It’s not about that!” His ears are hot. He glares at the wall. “It’s- It’s the principle of the thing.”

She stares at him. She steps around the counter, past him, up into the bedroom. He thinks maybe she’s decided to let it go, except then she tears the second, full blanket right off the mattress.

“Hey!” He twists in place, when she stalks past him again. “What the hell?”

The couch is sectional. She’s able to split it into two roughly-equal pieces; either one is technically long enough for him to sleep on without breaking his knees, but neither is even close to long enough for her, which is why it makes no fucking sense when she bundles herself down onto one.

“Are you serious right now?”

She stares back at him, resolute. She’s not the shrinking, unsure girl from the pairing day.

“You know what?” He flings his blanket on the opposite couch. “Fine. You’re on.”

1 DAY

When he wakes up, she’s still asleep. She barely fits on the couch, even with all the pillows thrown off, but she’s still perfectly peaceful. A loose lock of hair curls over her cheek, and flutters with each slow, even breath.

Meanwhile, his back hurts like hell. It’s somehow worse than the last time, like it got used to him sleeping in a real bed for eight months and is lashing out at him now for switching back to couches.

He keeps doing it. He’s not gonna be the one who cracks first.

3 WEEKS

They get invited to a pairing day.

He doesn’t want to go. It’s irrational and stupid, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to go, and he’s fine with that— until he tells Peko he doesn’t want to go, and her expression briefly crumbles into something crestfallen.

“Of course,” she says, “I understand,” and just like that she’s bounced back up into neutrality, like the downswing never happened. It annoys him in a familiar, prickling way.

“Do you want to go?” he asks her. “I didn’t think you liked them, either.”

“They can be tiring,” she agrees. “Especially when they last the entire day. It’s alright. I understand.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.

“I don’t want to go if it will make you uncomfortable.”

“Dammit, Peko, that’s not what I asked.”

For a second she looks so pained that he thinks he may have pushed too hard. She’s not Rantarou. Her walls aren’t the same.

“I... think they can be enjoyable,” she admits. “Under the right circumstances, and…” She looks down at her hands. “... with the right person.”

Shit.

She isn’t even wrong. The last pairing day hadn’t been all bad. The food had been good. For a few minutes, the company had been good.

“Alright,” he says. “Okay.”

“Please,” she says, “don’t feel like you need to—”

“But,” he says over her, “if it sucks, we’re leaving early. Deal?”

He sticks his hand out between them. She almost smiles, and clasps it back. “Yes.”

*

It’s not bad. The party itself is a classy affair. It’s held on the patio of some hollowed-out mansion down by the river, with colorful fairy lights strung up around the railings. They dress to match, both in black: him with a subtle gray pinstripe and her with sheer silk ruffles on her sleeves.

It starts in the early evening and goes on into the night. It’s warm, but not sticky; the river keeps tossing rolling breezes their way, enough to always keep things on the edge of comfortable. Summer stars spill out into the sky over the water. There’s drinks, food, music. It’s romantic. As far as fancy dates go, it’s solid.

The only problem is, he can’t seem to keep himself from spending the whole night neck-deep in his own ass.

She’s got more patience than he deserves. She puts up with him the whole time, all his comments and little scoffs and sour mood. She tries to bring him back up. She stays at his elbow, talks with him, keeps the two of them away from the cloying chatter of the main crowd.

She tries the whole night, and it falls apart anyway. Not because of her. Because of him: how he blows up over nothing, how he shouts loud enough for people to turn to look at them, and how he stalks off like a child, shoving his way through the crowd of guests.

She saw someone she recognized. She’d wanted to say hello. That’s it. That’s all.

He hops the railing of the patio to get closer to the riverbank. It’s the only part of the yard that’s mostly devoid of people, and it’s where all the fresh air is coming in. He needs the fucking air.

She finds him, even though she’d have every right to leave his sorry ass behind. She hops the railing, too, effortlessly, even in a little dress like that, and sits down on the bank. Not beside him, but close enough, a few feet away.

She doesn't say anything. She wraps her arms around her legs and watches the water.

The speakers dim. There’s a stretch of long minutes where there’s no music at all, just the gurgling of the river and a few buzzing crickets. There's no one else out here. Back at the house, someone has picked up a microphone, and the rest of the party has crowded together for the grand finale.

Peko is here, with him.

“I left early, the last time,” he says. He can’t look at her, but he sees her turn her head in his periphery. “Right after the ceremony, like you said. That’s why you couldn’t find me after.”

“I see,” she says, carefully. She’s confused. Who could fucking blame her?

“My last relationship got all fucked up at that pairing day,” he says. “I’m not- I’m not making an excuse. I’ve been an asshole tonight. I know that. I just— It’s not fair to you, when it’s my shit I’m all hung up on. So… I’m sorry.” He folds his arms over his knees. “That’s it.”

She’s quiet. She’s watching him. “It’s alright,” she decides, and that’s the only way he can think to describe it. A decision: hers, not his.

“Yeah?” he demands anyway, because apparently he can’t fucking stop even after he’s just gotten done apologizing. “How do you figure?”

“You need time,” she says. “The system doesn’t account for recovery. It can take a toll.” She stretches her legs out in the grass. “I understand.”

Whoever it is finishes giving their speech. The house erupts into cheers and applause.

“This could be over tomorrow,” he tells her.

“It could,” she agrees.

“And you’re okay with that? Letting me fuck around for however long trying to get my shit together, while you’re stuck wasting your time?”

“I don’t see it as a waste,” she answers, and it’s soft, but her eyes are steady.

There’s a commotion up on the patio. The crowd is starting to spill out toward the steps. “They’re leaving,” Peko says, rising to her feet. She dusts off the end of her skirt. “Would you like to see them off?”

“I don’t even know their fuckin’ names,” he says, “do you?”

“Chisa and Kyousuke,” she answers, without missing a beat. He looks up at her, and her smile is embarrassed. “... It’s written on most of the decorations.”

“I hate these fucking things.”

She holds her hand out to him. “If you prefer,” she says in that same careful, noncommittal way, “we could leave instead.”

He lets her pull him to his feet.

5 WEEKS

They keep sleeping on the separate couches. She rolls off of hers every morning like it’s nothing; she does a few stretches, laces up her shoes, and is on her way out the door, all before he’s even managed to get his spine in the right alignment.

“Fuck,” he groans into the pillow, “how do you do that?”

She twists her hair into a high ponytail at the top of her head. “There’s room in the bed, I believe,” she says, “if you’d be more comfortable there.”

He bows over the edge of the couch, and hangs his head down to stretch out the line of his vertebrae. “Fuck off,” he mutters into his knees.

She hovers. “I could show you a stretch,” she says. “It may help.”

He’s fine. He doesn’t need it.

But she offered, so he lets her.

*

They figure out how to get the system to let them order ingredients, instead of just more of the pre-made meals. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but she insists and keeps insisting until she manages to hit on the right voice command.

They go the full gambit: meat and fish and grains and vegetables. They fill up the kitchen. They order for weeks in advance, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s reckless, potentially pointless, and for once, in the moment, he doesn’t even think about it.

She orders a parade of different cheeses for a casserole recipe she loves, which is how she finds out he’s lactose intolerant. He orders a bottle of a sweet, fruity Merlot, which is how he finds out that she doesn’t like sweetness much.

She does try it, though. She manages three or four sips before her mouth puckers and her nose scrunches, a pinch of delicate disgust. It’s an expression he hasn’t seen on her before. She wears the negative ones even less often than the positive ones.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “Message heard loud and clear. I’ll get something drier next time.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, but she’s smiling when she leans over to put her glass down next to his on the countertop. They’re standing close enough that her sleeve brushes his elbow. The wine has left a faint red stain on her bottom lip.

She’d taste like the sweet plum of the Merlot, if he kissed her.

She doesn’t like sweetness, she said, but he does. He could sweep the flavor out of her mouth for her. All it would take is for him to shift his weight forward, part his lips, catch her open mouth, and—

“What is it?” she asks.

He clears his throat. He steps back from the counter. “You got ideas for dinner?” he says. “I’m gonna warn you right now, I’m a shitty fucking cook.”

2 MONTHS

He doesn’t need any more time.

If he knew they had a day left, or a week left, he wouldn’t waste it. He’d kiss her right now, tumble her down into their unused bed, and use every goddamn second to make up the difference for the mess he’s made her sit through.

He doesn’t want to do that, though.

He wants to take her somewhere special. He wants to have the date that pairing day was supposed to be, the two of them together under a smattering of summer starlight, maybe some dancing, maybe to a waltz on the piano. He wants to be able to wake up a month from now with his arm around her waist and take a few extra minutes of their morning, just because.

He decides on, “Let’s go somewhere,” over breakfast, when she’s still damp and shiny from her shower, pale hair turned dark over her shoulders.

She smiles at him. It still makes his stomach do something twisting and stupid.

*

It’s not fancy. There’s no starlight or piano waltz. They hike one of the shallow paths through the woods to see where the first licks of autumn are starting to turn the leaves orange and yellow. They have lunch on a couple of stumps. He asks to hold her hand on the way back, and she says yes.

When they get home, they sit together on the couch (his couch, he thinks, and it rings in his head the same way his bed might), and he opens a bottle of Bordeaux that she likes much better.

It’s an accident when it happens, maybe. They're sitting close enough that their knees are touching, talking about what other commands for the device Hope's Peak might be keeping on the down-low. She turns away to set her glass down on the coffee table.

Maybe he doesn’t need to have his head at that angle when he says her name. Maybe she doesn’t need to dip her chin like that when she turns back to him. But he does, and she does, and they catch there in the middle. It’s a brush, that��s all it is, but neither of them do anything to turn it into less than that.

He reaches for her with both hands. He frames her face, thumbs behind her ears and fingers tangled in her hair. She inhales just a little, sharply, and when he tugs, she sinks forward. She kisses him like that: no accidents, no pretense.

There’s not enough room for both of them on the couch, not like this; they slip and fumble trying to find a configuration that’s comfortable, and keep bumping hands and elbows. It’s fine. He doesn’t care. He loses traction once when his knee slides on the slippery fabric of her dress, and the smile that breaks against his mouth is more than worth it.

He pulls back enough to look down into her face. Her mouth is red. Her eyes are dark. His hand hovers at the high edge of her dress, where the skirt has slid up to the top of her thigh.

“Do you…” His whole mouth feels dry. He wets his lips, and it barely helps. “Tell me to fuck off if you want, but I was thinking… maybe…”

Behind him, his device chimes. It’s so loud it makes him jump, and she exhales a breathy laugh when he has to make a grab for the armrest behind her.

“No consent preference registered,” it chirps. “Fuyuhiko, do you consent to oral sex as the giving partner?”

Beyond the edge of the couch, he can see that her device has lit up, too, on the end table. They’re always tracking them, he realizes. Reading their intentions— and sharing that data, when it’s relevant.

Peko’s realized it, too. She’s gone scarlet— not just pink, fully red, right up to her hairline. She turns her face down against his shoulder, and the only benefit of that is that she can’t see his face, either.

“Shit,” he says into her hair, and it’s as much laughter as it is disbelief. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The system requires that all participants submit their consent prior any sexual activity,” his device explains.

“Fuck, alright, yes, okay? Yes.”

It chimes again. “Thank you, Fuyuhiko.”

“I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. “I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” he says. “Next time we gotta remember to do that part first.” She still won’t raise her head. He turns his lips against her temple so that she can feel him smiling. “What I was gonna say, was, uh… Y’know.” He slides his hands up her thighs, beneath her skirt, and hooks his thumbs into the elastic band of her underwear. “That. Basically.”

Her head snaps up from his shoulder. Her eyes are wide.

“I mean,” he hedges, “if that’s okay with you. It really only asked me, I guess, so—”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I- I… yes.”

He sinks to his knees in front of the couch. She lets him skim his hand back under her skirt to help her slide her panties down and off; they’re plain, black cotton, simple and practical. From this angle, he can see how every heavy breath rolls from her belly through her chest and out her throat.

She’s flushed and beautiful.

Her device chimes. “No consent preference registered. Peko, do you consent to oral sex as the receiving partner?”

She draws both hands up the inside of her thighs, and lets the hem of her dress catch on her fingers. She murmurs, “Yes,” with her eyes on him, lidded and intense, and it makes him feel like his hair is standing on end.

“Thank you, Peko.”

He leans in.

The angle’s bad, at first. The couch cushions are soft and deep; that’s fine for when he’s trying to sleep, but not so much when she keeps sinking back too far for him to keep pressure where she needs it. Her hand flutters on his shoulder, clenching and releasing. He’s getting a crick in his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and then, “Hey,” again, until her eyes flutter open. “Try- Try scooting up a little.” He spreads his palms wide on the outsides of her thighs. “Closer to the edge, so I can…”

She bites her lip. She’s flushed down to her chest. “But...”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. He scoops his arms around the small of her back in a clumsy hug, the most he can think to do. “I got you, alright? Last thing either of us want is for you to fall on your ass, I swear.”

She nods, unsteady. She lets him draw her down to the edge, and lets him lift her knees over his shoulders. It leaves her sprawled on the couch cushions, dress hiked up around her waist, with her hips pressed close and spread open.

He brushes his lips against her, not even a kiss, and she inhales, sharp and quick.

“Oh.” She pulls his collar hard against the back of his neck. “That’s… That’s better.”

He laughs against her, so that the sound vibrates on her skin, and her breath stumbles back out. “Yeah?”

Her hands scrabble for purchase against the back of his head. She’s trying not to press down, and doing a bad job of it. “Yes,” she whispers. “Go- Go, please.”

She’s dead fucking silent, the entire time. She lies there with her head tipped back against the cushions, her throat bobbing with every swallowed sound, and he thinks he’s fucking it up, at first. He starts to pull back, means to ask her what he’s doing wrong and what he could do better, when her fingers twist around his ears to keep him in place, hard enough to hurt.

He switches gears. He turns off the part of his brain that focuses on sound, and focuses instead on the things that make her knees tremble around his ears, or her nails rake back across his scalp. He figures out where her line is, learns to feel when she’s right up on that edge but not letting herself past it.

“Come on,” he growls against her. He sits up on his knees, and smooths his thumbs into the grooves of her hips. “I got you. Come on.”

She shudders. She spills over. She gasps, “Fuyuhiko,” at the ceiling, and it hits him like a stone, right in the gut.

He carries her through it. He tries to. Maybe the best he does for her is make sure she actually doesn’t fall on her ass. He has to come up for air as much as she does when it’s done, when she’s looking at him like that, lips parted and eyes dark, with the fingers of one hand curled around his ear.

“Fuck, I wanna kiss you,” he manages. “Can I kiss you?”

She surges forward, and grabs him by the face with both hands. She kisses him, full-on and messy, even though his mouth must still taste bitter and slick. She wraps her arms around him and drags on his shoulders until he gets the memo to come up off his knees.

He holds himself over her, both hands on the back of the couch. He has to brace one knee on the cushion between her legs to keep himself upright. “Shit,” he whispers against her mouth. “You’re incredible.”

Her lips move against his, too, only he can’t concentrate on what she’s saying because his blood is roaring in his ears and she just thumbed through the button on the front of his slacks. She fumbles with his belt, finds his zipper, and then she stops.

He’s dizzy. It’s a struggle to find her face, until he realizes it’s because she’s bent her head forward, against his chest.

“Wh-What?” he pants. “What’s wrong?”

She tilts her chin. He can see the flat edge of her smile. She’s trying not to laugh. “It wants to know… if…”

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Goddammit.” He rearranges his grip on the backrest, and clenches his eyes shut. “I consent, you stupid piece of shit.”

“Thank you, Fuyuhiko,” his device chirps behind him.

The momentum is broken. Her thumb at the top of his zipper feels more awkward now than promising. “Sorry,” he whispers, “I- I should’ve thought this out better. You don’t have to— I mean—”

She turns her face back up to him. Her fingers curl around his cheek. She presses gently, until he tilts his head in the direction she wants, and then her lips are on his again, softer this time, slower.

Her hands settle on his hips. Her thumbs hook in his waistband, tug until it slides down enough to give her room to work, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Peko,” he gasps against her mouth.

It doesn’t take much, even after all that. The warm curl of her fingers, the touch of her tongue to the roof of his mouth, a few quick twists of her wrist, and that’s it: he’s done. He tries to garble out a warning, but she just presses her free hand against the back of his head to hold him in place while it shudders through him.

They’re a wreck, the both of them, when it’s over: her with her hair a mess and her makeup smudged, hanging off the edge of the couch, and him half-draped on top of her, barely able to keep his balance.

He touches his forehead to hers. She traces the curve of his jaw with her thumb.

“Bed?” she asks.

He breathes in her smile. “Yeah,” he answers, “fuck this.”

*

It’s the best goddamn sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, it’s abrupt, and dark, and cold. He doesn’t know much with his brain operating on empty like that, but he does know that his half of the bed is wider than it’s supposed to be. He reaches for her, paws out into the space, and finds the edge of the blanket again. He drags it back around his shoulders.

He just barely remembers to grumble, “Peko.”

“Go back to sleep,” she murmurs, and there, she’s there, close to his ear. He can’t keep his eyes open long enough to look at her.

“What the fuck,” he slurs into the pillow. “It’s nighttime.”

“It’s morning,” she corrects. “I shouldn’t miss my run.”

He swings his arm blindly sideways, and finds the curve of her shoulder. He grabs, and only gets her sleeve. “Don’t go.”

She presses a kiss to the side of his neck, just behind his ear. She’s smiling. “Go back to sleep.”

Somewhere along the line, he does.

10 WEEKS

“What do you think about tiny dogs?” he asks her. They’re on the couch together, sharing a blanket, his legs tented over her lap. “The yappy, strung-out looking ones?”

She traces the line of his shin with her thumb. She doesn’t want him to see it, but the corner of her mouth tugs sideways. “I think they’re nice,” she answers.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fuckin’ crazy,” he tells her. “They’d bite your fingers off as much as look at you.”

She doesn’t rise to his bait, and she doesn’t take back her answer. It’s her turn. “Are there any sports you like?”

“Baseball,” he answers. “Played it for a while. I’m better at watching it, though.”

“I see.”

“Right, so, if you—”

She squeezes his knee. “I get to ask again.”

“What?” he laughs. “No, you don’t. How come?”

“You asked two.”

“Bullshit I did! ‘Seriously?’ doesn’t count.”

She holds her ground. She lifts her chin at him, and she’s not smiling, but her eyes get narrower underneath like she is.

“Alright,” he says. He leans forward, his elbow on the back of the couch beside her head, and lets his knees fall flat into her lap. “Fine. What’s your second one?”

Her hand finds the side of his face. The tips of her fingers trace the edge of his ear, and it tickles, but he’s determined not to show her any weakness. He sighs, a long, slow exhale, and touches the tip of his tongue to his lips.

Her eyeline drops down.

“Peko,” he says, and it rises back up, painfully slow. He’s won, and she knows it. “What’s your second one?”

(He’s an idiot. He’s underestimated her, like he does every time.)

She curves her thumbnail along his hairline, dips her chin, and asks him in a murmur, “What would you like to do next?”

He loses, right then and there. No chance. He accepts the defeat gracefully, and rolls her over so that she's the one in his lap.

3 MONTHS

He wakes up with his arm around her waist.

They take a few extra minutes in their morning, just because.

15 WEEKS

“You’re not paired with her,” Natsumi tells him. “You know that, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that just because you dumbasses didn’t check the expiration, it doesn’t mean you don’t still have one.”

“Obviously,” he says. “I know that. We both know that.”

She stares at him over the lid of her smoothie. It gurgles as loudly as she can make it.

“Really?” she asks. “Because it kinda seems like you don’t.”

4 MONTHS

He counts the days up. Four months, almost exactly. They’ve overshot it by a few, and it turns out he likes that less than if they’d been a few days shy.

He’s done the math. His average is two months. Hers is five. They’re sitting pretty at almost exactly the point their expiration date should be creeping up on them.

He doesn’t say anything to her. It’d defeat the purpose. Just because he let Natsumi get under his skin again doesn’t mean that he should be making Peko anxious about it, too. What they have is working. Letting the system shove its nose between them adds nothing and takes away everything.

Still.

It’s too late for the summer stars, but the autumn ones are just as good. He takes her out by the river, down to the spot where the sprawling, rickety house they used for the pairing day is sitting empty. She lets her arm unwind from his and steps close to the water, her chin tipped up to the sky. Moonlight and starlight spill over her, and gleam silver in her hair.

He taps his device. The hidden speakers in the trees fade in: a slow piano waltz.

She looks up at the sound, and then down to him. He holds his hand out. “Dance with me?”

Her lips turn up into her not-quite smile. Color rises in her cheeks, and brings out her eyes. She reaches her hand out, too, and her fingers curl into his.

They spin lazily together, there on the riverbank, in the grass and soft soil. It isn’t even a real waltz; it’s way too slow and uncoordinated for that. But his arm fits around her waist, and she’s looking back at him with her eyes soft and open in a way they hardly ever are, and the rest of it doesn’t matter. None of it. The steps, the device, the system, the goddamn fucking wall.

The song slows down. So do they, swaying steps devolving into swaying shoulders.

He imagines that tomorrow is their last day. He imagines that this’ll be the last time he sees her like this, touched by silver moonlight like that, looking back at him with her eyes like that. He imagines her at a pairing day with someone else, beautiful in a light spring gown, with her name on all of the decorations, and he kisses her.

When he pulls back, her eyes are shining. She presses her knuckles into the corners of them. “Wait, wait.” He wraps his hands around the back of her neck, tugs her down until her forehead is pressed against his. “You— Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

She blinks the tears away. She shakes her head, just a little, just enough for him to feel it. “I love you, too,” she murmurs against his lips. “That’s all.”

22 WEEKS

He keeps counting. He can’t help himself. Once he knows the number, each morning is another increment. Each new total carves itself into the inside of his skull like tic marks on a prison wall.

*

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

They’re having breakfast, toast and coffee and sliced fruit. She has one hand on his knee below the table. They don’t have anything planned for the afternoon; she’d wanted a quiet day in, just the two of them, and so had he. He wants as many of those as he can get, from however many days there are left.

There are soft frown lines between her eyes, and he needs to be honest. It’s too late now not to be. “We've been together five months,” he tells her. “More than that. Hundred and fifty-seven days, tomorrow.”

She doesn't understand, at first. Her gaze goes soft, at first, like he’s told her good news, because it is. It should be. It’s something they should be proud of. A mark of what they’ve done, and what they could do.

It isn’t, though. Not where the system is concerned.

She sees it in his face, maybe, or maybe she just knows him well enough now that she understands the implication of his counting. She gets there. Her hand lifts off his knee.

“You want to check the expiration date,” she realizes.

His stomach twists. “No!” He leans forward, and his elbow jostles the edge of his plate. It sends cutlery to the table with a clatter. “No. Peko, no, that’s not it.”

She’s not listening. Her device is on the table, by her elbow, and it lights up under her touch. She swipes through the menus with quick, deliberate precision: Main, Info, Expiration.

“Peko—”

“We agreed,” she says. “As soon as one of us changes their mind, we look.”

He has this sudden, irrational panic that she’s going to look at it without him. He doesn’t even know if that’s possible, and he grabs her wrist anyway. “Stop it,” he says. “I didn’t change my mind, alright?”

“Will it make you feel better?” she asks him.

He hesitates.

“Then we should look,” she says, and holds her finger over the screen.

“You're not listening to me.”

“Please,” she says through grit teeth. Emotion still manages to tremble its way through. “Whatever time is left, I…” It trembles out into her fingers. She clutches the device to keep hold of it. “I don't want it to go to waste. So if doing this helps you, then…”

“This isn’t gonna fucking help!”

It’s louder than he means, sharper than he means. He seizes her hands with both of his, and shoves the face of the device down into the table. It makes a sound like splitting plastic, but he knows it won’t break.

“Maybe it would make me feel better,” he tells her, and forces his volume down. “Maybe. For a second. That’s not what this is about, okay?” He swallows. Breathes. “I don't want to know when it ends.” He can feel her trembling. He drags his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles. “I don't want it to end at all.”

Peko is looking down at their hands. She’s not crying. She’s wearing the same sort of carefully neutral look she had when he was late for dinner the very first night, lonely and quiet, slightly strained at the edges.

“The system makes mistakes,” he says, and now he's trembling, too. “99.8. That’s .2 percent of people who get fucked over. You wanna look at me and tell me this doesn’t feel like a mistake to you?”

She looks at him. She doesn’t say anything.

“Everything happens for a reason,” the device chirps, muffled between their fingers.

*

She kisses him every morning, before her run, while he’s still half-asleep. She brushes her lips wherever she can reach him, between the tangle of blankets: his cheek, his temple, his chin, his wrist.

He teaches himself to count those, instead.

6 MONTHS

He’s in the bedroom, fixing his tie in the mirror. She’s in the kitchen, packing their boxed lunch for later. It’s too cold for a picnic now, but the central hub has a cozy little lounge area with some fireplaces and worn-comfortable loveseats. They’re going to the aquarium first, then lunch, then a concert in the evening.

“Yo, Peko,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“When is this thing tonight again? I was thinking if we have some extra time, maybe—”

His device chimes on the vanity in front of him.

It's programmed with maybe four or five distinct sounds. They all get used for different things: notifications and alerts and acknowledgements. They overlap in a lot of places, by categories. There’s only one that’s unique. There’s only one he can recognize without trying to, or needing to, or wanting to.

He looks at it through the mirror, and the letters are backwards, but he knows. He knew before he looked.

END

He thinks: they didn’t even make it to thirty. She’s given him twenty-six sleepy, early-morning kisses since he started counting.

He barely even remembers the one from this morning. He tries. He grips the sharp edge of the vanity until his palms hurt, and tries to remember. She kissed him on the shoulder, he thinks, the outside curve of it. It’d been lazy, a brush. She’d been tired, too. She’d wanted to stay in bed with him, but she hadn’t.

He grabs the device. He turns on his heel, and stops in his tracks.

She’s already in the doorway. Her device hangs from her limp left hand, but it’s still lit up. He can still read the face of it.

END

“Peko—”

She talks over him. “I would like to say something.” Her voice is steel bent to its maximum; her face is a sheet of ice about to shatter.

“The relationship has ended,” their devices say in echoing unison. “Both participants must vacate their living quarters.”

“I want you to know that I have treasured every moment we spent together,” she says, rushed and clumsy. She struggles. It’s not like her at all. “And that I- I will always treasure them. It has been… unlike anything I’ve experienced in my life.”

“The relationship has ended. Both participants must vacate their living quarters.”

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask. I know that this will pale in comparison to the connection you will have with the person you are matched with, when you meet them. But I… I hope, if you can, that you’ll remember this, too.” There are tears in her eyes, and she lets them spill over. “I hope that you’ll remember me, too.”

“No,” he rasps.

“Fuyuhiko—”

“How can you still not get it?” Emotion bubbles up his throat, and then his eyes are stinging, too. “How can you stand there and say that kind of shit to me? Like- Like I was going to forget anything. Like I ever could, like I’d ever want to?” He can’t stand it. She talks about herself like she’s a ghost, like she doesn’t matter, and she’s so goddamn frustrating. “I don’t want their fucking match, Peko!”

Her device lights up: a red, flashing ring around the face. He can see the reflection of it on her skin. He looks down, and his is blinking, too.

“Failure to vacate is considered a breach of system rules. Failure to comply with the system may result in banishment.”

He drops it. It hits the floor flat on its face and goes spinning into the wall. He crosses the space between them in two long steps, and reaches for her with both hands.

“I want you,” he tells her. “Only you.”

She sways into him. She lets out a breath, shaking and damp. Her free hand comes up to curl loosely around his wrist, and the other presses her device into her stomach, where the pretty lace of her blouse swallows up the warning light.

He sees it in her eyes. He swears he does. A spark, like possibility.

“Failure to vacate is considered a breach of system rules. Participants have three minutes to vacate, or security will be called.”

He watches her let it wink out.

She whispers, “Please.”

He lets go.

#fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #peko pekoyama #kuzupeko #danganronpa #sdr2 #YOU KNEW IT WAS COMING MY DUDES #also: pour one out for my poor battered schedule #hopefully the fact that this is MONSTROUSLY LONG makes up for it #and/or my inaugural kuzupeko smut #what a rollercoaster of a revision #fic: somewhere surely lived #sunwrites

[theoldestweasleygirl]

Underage Champions

This is the first fan fic I started writing back in 2015, so far there are 4 chapters,  w ho knows if I will go back to writing it, I hope so. Any constructive criticism is appreciated. First chapter shown, rest are under the cut.

What if the Goblet of Fire had really messed up? What if, not only were there two Hogwarts Champions, but they were both underage? Fred's name is called as the Hogwarts Champion. Mix in an angry girlfriend and a twin who was left out of the plan, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Chapter 1: A Little Background First

Not officially part of the story, but just a little background information to get you started. (Some of this information may be repeated through the story but I felt needed to be introduced to start as well) Written through the eyes of the main character.

My name is Dallas Millicent. I am a fourth year Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Growing up I lived not too far from the Weasley's. Since I had no siblings of my own I spent nearly every waking moment at the Burrow, sometimes for weeks on end without going home. My parents and I have never had a good relationship, and as I got older, I stopped going home all together, and to be honest I don't think my parents have even noticed.

The dynamic between me and the Weasley's is sometimes hard to wrap one's head around, but I'm really one of the family and honestly considered to be the 8th Weasley child (Or 6th if you wanted to get technical, being as my birthday is a few months before Ron's) and I fit right in with my (hair dye induced) red hair. Strangers have honestly mistaken me as one of the family. But anyway, Ginny and I have always been extremely close (being the only girls in a house full of boys will do that to you!) but no friendship rivals the pranking trio of Fred, George and I. Which is why, when the pair left for school, it was so hard on me. I knew that I'd see them at Christmas, and they'd be back for the summer, but I couldn't help but feel as though I'd lost my two best friends. And knowing that they had a whole nother year after this one before I'd join them killed me.

I had always been close to both twins, hell I’d been practically raised a Weasley. Growing up, it was always the three of us, locked in their bedroom, scheming up new pranks and reeking havoc on the house, laughing hysterically when someone was unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle of our mischief. Molly had joked that, despite the 2 year age gap, I was the third triplet who had been separated at birth. And although Fred and I’s relationship took a romantic turn, I would still always be “one of the guys” in the sense that we’d been best friends for over 10 years, and nothing about our friendship changed except now Fred and I were more than friends. I really am the third triplet in a sense, I consider George just as much my brother as he is Fred’s. Which is part of the reason some people find it so weird that I'm dating Fred Weasley. I'll admit I'd always had a teeny crush on Fred, but I'd never admit it, not even to Ginny! When we were younger, George used to tease us both, insisting that I had a crush on Fred, and vice versa. Me, being "one of the guys" and not knowing how Fred would react, would simply roll my eyes at George and deny that the idea had ever crossed my mind. Fred too, had blatantly denied the idea and threatened to hide a dung bomb under his brothers pillow if he ever mentioned it again.

On the train to Hogwarts my first year I, unsurprisingly, found myself in a compartment with Fred and George. It was then and there that Fred, looking more red and nervous than I had ever seen him, asked me to be his girlfriend. I was shocked, but truthfully excited and I happily agreed. George just smirked at us and replied knowingly with, "Told you so." Ever since then, the two of us have been dating and the three of us have been reeking havoc across the school. Filch, needless to say, was less than excited (to put it nicely) at the addition of a third member of the pranking troublemakers.

Chapter 2: Finding Out

Fred's name is called as the Hogwarts Champion. Mix in an angry girlfriend and a twin who was left out of the plan, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Dallas POV

It was Halloween, and this year the Halloween Feast was also the time when the Triwizard Champions would be chosen from the Goblet of Fire. I hadn’t been paying much attention up to this point, I was more focused on my boyfriend and my food (my food is very important to me). Fred’s arm was wrapped around me and I was nuzzled beside him as I ate my dinner, laughing in amusement at George’s look of disgust as Fred leaned down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “Oh stop” I laughed rolling my eyes at him from across the table as George began to mime gagging. I knew he didn’t mean it, he’d been the one practically telling us to date since I was 7 and they were 9. He stuck his tongue out at me and Fred smirked, tossing a bread roll at his brother.

“And now, the Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore’s voice roared through the hall, and I turned to look just as the flames of the Goblet once again turned their glorious shades of red and shot a charred scrap of paper from the flames. Dumbledore smoothed the paper in his hands and read the name “ is Fred Weasley!”

I pulled back, looking at him as a million different emotions flittered through my body, anger, confusion, sadness, hurt... Time froze and what must have been seconds ticking by felt like hours. I looked at him with complete shock on my face and without even thinking, grabbed the plate nearest to me, and smashed it with surprising force against the table as a wave of anger took over. And with that, I stood up, turned on my heel, and walked out of the Great Hall, my thunderous footsteps echoing against the star studded ceiling, and the eyes of every person in the hall boring holes into my back.

As I stormed up the stairs I heard the footsteps behind me, and I knew before he even grabbed my arm who it was. He spun me around to face him and I shot daggers from my eyes as I turned. “Let. Go.” I growled trying to keep my voice from cracking, and I pulled my arm free continuing my thunderous exit.

Just as I was about to reach the common room, I heard footsteps behind me for the second time that night, and spun around to see the same face as before staring back at me, only this time it was a completely different person.

“He didn’t tell me either..” He choked out, and I saw him visibly cringe as his voice cracked despite his efforts to be angry. I knew that of all people, George knew exactly how I felt in that moment. He too felt the waves of emotions crashing over him as he tried to process what had just happened. Fred had always told me I was his #1, but I knew that in reality I was 2nd only to George, and I was okay with that. But this was also part of the problem, we were arguably the two most important people in his life, and he’d left us in the dark about such a big, what do I call it? Accomplishment? Mistake? Decision? Whatever it was, it was something he should have shared with us.

George must have seen how defeated I looked, or maybe how downright miserable, and he opened his arms and without even hesitating I found myself wrapped in them, sobbing into his robes as he did his best to hold back his own tears.

Most people would think it was strange, the way I wound myself into George’s arms just as I would Fred’s, but it was just our group’s dynamic. Others could never differentiate and on more than one occasion had seen the way I was with George and had started a rumor about how I was secretly playing both twins, much to all of our amusement. We’ve even played along with it before, pulling off one of Hogwarts’ “greatest scandals.

George and I made our way into the common room, sitting beside each other on the plush couch, and sat in silence as we both tried to process what was going on. We sat there, waiting for everyone to return from dinner, but nobody came, and hours after dinner the common room was still empty with the exception of us two. They must have had a celebratory party in the Room of Requirement. It was moments later that Fred finally appeared through the portrait hole, and you could tell that he knew what was coming for him.

Chapter 3: Confrontation

Fred faces the wrath of his twin brother and his girlfriend who are madder than he’s ever seen either of them before.

Fred POV

I stepped through the portrait hole and sure enough, there they were, sitting silently beside each other on the common room couch. It reminded me for a moment of the looks on my parent’s faces after they had discovered one of our tricks and were waiting to confront our trio about it. Somehow though, I knew this would be much worse than that, and if you’d ever seen Mom mad, you’d know that was saying something.

I took a deep breath and before they could even open their mouths I just crossed my arms and stood in front of them, knowing there was no use in trying to avoid them.

“Have at it, I know you two’ve got something to say” I sighed waiting for them to start firing questions at me. And sure enough, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, Dallas blew up.

“How could you fucking do this?! Sign yourself up for a tournament you very well could die in? Without even telling either of us?!” She shouted, springing to her feet, each word pelting me like a bullet.

I looked past her to my brother, still sitting on the couch, in a state of complete confusion. The hurt and confusion so plain on his face hurt me more than the venom behind Dallas’ words.

“I.. just...how? Why? Without me?” he finally managed to choke out, cutting me deeper with every word.

I sighed, defeated, and finally addressed them both. “I fucked up, okay? Plain and simple. I fucked up. I was just testing out a theory, and it was a long shot, more so than the aging potion, but somehow, it worked, and by that point, I was so confused myself that I didn’t know how to tell either of you..”

I knew from the moment I decided to do it that I should’ve told them. But George and I had already tried, and failed, to trick the age line with an aging potion, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up when, I thought, that my idea was even more of a long shot than that had been. And how could I tell Dallas, who disapproved of our schemes to enter the contest from the very beginning, and had been so relieved when our best bet had failed us? I didn’t want to worry her any more than was necessary and I didn’t want to get George’s hopes up only to crush them again.. and by the time it was done, I was so astounded that I couldn’t find a way to tell them then either, and then before I even had a chance to tell them, my name shot out of the goblet.

I saw what was coming next before the words even left her lips...

“That’s not an excuse Fred!” she shouted steam practically shooting from her ears. “Don’t you even have a brain in that big head of yours?! How could you even think to enter a competition that very well will kill you?! Forget the fact that you excluded the two arguably most important people in your life from the decision.. Don’t you understand? This isn’t a game Fred! You can’t just joke your way out of it!”

I did not, however, see what happened next coming. As I opened my mouth to reply, I was interrupted.

“Take a deep breath. We’ve all got a lot to say, there are lots of emotions here, but for the love of Merlin just quit shouting!” George yelled. He had hardly said one sentence this whole time, and George, the least confrontational of the three of us, had just actually yelled, at me and Dallas of all people. We both stared back at him, wide eyed, and he simply motion for us to both sit down. Dallas sat down beside him on the couch, and I pulled up an armchair so I could properly face them both. Once we were seated, my brother motioned for me to continue.

“Yes love, I realize it’s no excuse. I knew from the moment before I even did it that I should’ve told you two, and as I said, I simply fucked up. I realize that this isn’t a game, and I realize the danger i’ve just put myself directly in the middle of. But I never meant to hurt you, either of you.” I added glancing toward my brother. “You know you’re the two most important people in my life.. and that’s why I’m going to need both of your help if I’m going to have any shot at surviving this thing.”

Chapter 4: The other half

What does George think of this whole business? We’ve peeked through Dallas’ and Fred’s eyes, but what about the more quiet of the trio?

George POV

I hadn’t meant to shout at them… and you could tell they weren’t expecting it. They shouldn’t, I’m always the peacekeeper between the three of us, I almost never yell, and certainly never to my two best friends, but sometimes, the peacemaker has to yell. I couldn’t take another minute of the two of them screaming at each other like a couple of banshees, it wasn’t getting us anywhere. I knew Dallas was hurt and angry, and so was I, but Fred would never get a word in edgewise if I’d let her keep shouting at him like that. Did it hurt that he hadn’t told me, his twin brother, his best friend, the one he told everything, and I mean everything, to that he’d found a way to get his name in the Goblet of Fire? Of course it did! I’d never felt more betrayed in my life. I wanted to scream at him too, right beside Dallas, but I knew that that would do nothing but tear the three of us apart, and I’d never let that happen.

My brother may have just made the most bonehead move he’s ever made, which is saying something, but it was my job as twin brother and third member of the trio to keep the untamable wildfire that was Dallas under control. Don’t get me wrong, I love her as if she were my own sister (she practically is in more ways than one) but she’s been known to find the weak spot in any opponent she takes on, and using it to her advantage. And in that  moment, her target was good ole Freddie and she had one hell of an advantage over him, we all knew what, or rather who, his weak spot was, and I feared she’d use that advantage as she would with any other opponent. That would be a disaster of brand new proportions, the end of the trio, Fred moping around, paying no attention to the tasks he was about to face. Fred needed us now more than ever, and I needed to make sure nothing got in the way of that.

I was still sore about the fact that he had left me out of this decision, but I could tell by the look on his face that he felt absolutely awful for the way everything happened, and I could see the pure terror in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Dallas was right, this wasn’t a game, there was real danger here. “I’m in.” I stated matter-of-factly looking my brother dead in the eye “We’ll find a way to get you through this, won’t we?” I added looking over beside me.

“Of course we will” She sighed suddenly deflated. “You’re not getting out of this that easy Fred Weasley” she added, a smirk spreading across her face, the teasing tone returning to her voice.

“Now kiss and make up you losers” I laughed, glad a complete disaster had been averted.

“Oh now you want us to kiss?” Fred laughed, referencing my gagging earlier in the Great Hall.

“You’re right, I take it back. Too much PDA from you two.” I laughed shaking my head. Fred gave me a look and I knew just what he had in mind, I nodded in agreeance.

“TWIN ATTACK!” We shouted lunging to wrap Dallas in a group hug, laughing as she squealed in protest as Fred started to tickle her while I held her arms back. In that moment, we were all back to normal, and nothing was wrong.

#Fred and George #George and Fred #Gred and Forge #Harry potter #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #weasley fan fiction #fred x oc #fred and george weasley #writing #the weasleys #Weasley #Weasley Twins #the weasley twins #harry potter and the goblet of fire #fred x original character

[junker-town]

A Pokemon Sword/Shield draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by David McNew/Getty Images

Gotta draft ‘em all!

Pokemon. Domesticated animals trained to fight for the amusement of humans in an alt-history hellscape where children are forced from their houses in their preteens to capture and battle others under the guise of growth into adulthood. It’s perfect and we love it!

Friday marks the release of Pokemon Sword/Shield, the latest game in the series. Being the avid sportspeople we are, and thriving on competition at the expense of others we decided to draft a six Pokemon team made entirely of Pokemon which are returning to the series. We were not allowed to draft the only returning legendary Pokemon (Mew), and were given the freedom to draft to our heart. Here is what we did.

Brittany Cheng

Lucario, 10. Hydregion, 11. Gardevoir, 20. Bewear, 21. Gengar, 30. Lapras

The moment I signed up for this, I was stressed — especially because I’ve been AWOL from the Pokemon world after Gen 4. Thankfully a mix of Silph Road message boards, Quora replies, and the kindness of a top Pokemon expert from our sister gaming website, Polygon, helped me select the best team.

I got lucky, too. If Zion Williamson is on the board, why wouldn’t I take him first?

I don’t need to defend my other picks; I know I already won the draft since my No. 1 pick made my boss react “OH FUCK YOU.”

Graham: Honestly I’m not sure that spending your first pick in the draft deliberately spiting your boss is a good career choice.

James: I’d burn you, but I’ve never seen someone so stressed out about the basic concept of drafting Pokemon. Sorry to break the fourth wall for our readers, but you were definitely wracked with anxiety every time your pick came back up. I don’t want you to endure that pain so I love your draft. Good picks. Zero problems.

Christian: Would eat: Lapras. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Gardevoir is definitely on Tik Tok so I’m upset to miss it for my team of social media All-Stars. Also shouts to Britt for drafting Graham’s favorite Pokemon No. 1 and sending this draft in chaos mode from the get-go.

Graham MacAree

2. Aegislash, 9. Toxapex, 12. Charizard, 19. Ferrothorn, 22. Togekiss, 29. Weaville

Aegislash gives a strong counter to Lucario at 1.1 and can sweep with Swords Dance while using King’s Shield to disrupt any physical attackers taken later. The rest of the Pokemon were taken with roles plus type composition in mind, with something of an eye towards specific checks:

Toxapex can deal with James’ Tyranitar, Scald physical attackers and sit as a very difficult defensive barrier.

Charizard gives some versatility with its different mega-evolution forms and wide moveset, but will mostly be used as a drought-powered special wallbreaker.

Ferrothorn is another answer to Tyranitar plus can set Stealth Rock and stall with Leech Seed/protect.

Togekiss running Defog is not an ideal hazard clearer but the available Pokemon who can use Defog or Rapid Spin is astonishingly low. Can also help with team status and go for flinch locks.

Weaville is here as a fast revenge killer, if necessary, and gives some type coverage we were missing with Pursuit.

Aegislash can do most of the hard work and, given the Pokemon available, I think the rest of the team balances and supports it well enough. I’m a little worried about that Gengar on Britt’s team, though, and there’s also no clean way to bring in Pokemon through pivot moves. Prediction and smart play, as always will be key.

James: Nerd.

Britt: Nerd.

Christian: Would eat: Charizard, Togekiss. Wouldn’t eat: everyone else.

Matt: Charizard is the only real Pokemon on this list in my opinion. Also, nerd.

James Dator

3. Tyranitar, 8. Wishiwashi, 13. Mimikyu, 18. Drampa, 23. Sawk, 28. Vikavolt

I’m not going to sit here and tell you my team is perfect. I’m not going to tell you they’re a top-tier team of killers and world-ruiners, but I will say that they make me happy. In the end that’s all that matters.

Tyranitar is my beefy thick boy to hold down the fort, while also offering that excellent rock/dark type to get me through some early fights. Mimikyu is my sad pokemon, which is personally important to me, considering my natural proclivity for Psyduck.

Wishiwashi is the pick I know people will criticize, but he’s my Rudy, my Hail Mary. I really like the Pokemon who go from zero-to-hero like watching an episode of Queer Eye, but with Wishiwashi it’ll hit school form and become a murderer in one battle — not like waiting on a sad-ass Magikarp to get its act together.

Britt: I offered to trade you Bewear for Wishiwashi, so you deserve all the burns you get.

Christian: I bet I could eat all these Pokemen. Maybe not Vikavolt.

Matt: Tyranitar is def a bully who gets likes on IG because people are afraid of it, so I’m upset to not have it on my socia media team. Also Wishiwashi is a hilarious name. Proud of it.

Christian D’Andrea

4. Mamoswine, 7. Mudsdale, 14. Unfezant, 17. Pelipper, 24. Vanilluxe , 27. Wobbuffet

I have never played Pokemon, but we needed a fifth for the draft. My picks were solely based on how much I’d like to eat each of these characters. With a bottom-two pick, I invested solely in winning the “most delicious” crown.

Mamoswine: Half pig, half mammoth. You remember the opening credits for the Flintstones? This is where those car-destroying ribs came from.

Mudsdale: I could only find one cow-looking Pokemon (Tauros), and he wasn’t eligible for selection. I’m gonna have to settle for horse steaks instead. And since this thing is half Clydesdale, I’m gonna have a ton of them.

Unfezant: The most spatchcockable Pokemon on the board. Can’t believe he lasted to the third round. Plus you can save all that unfezant fat and fry potatoes in them afterward.

Pelipper: I kinda choked on this one. I thought this was a giant, fat, belligerent chicken, like Foghorn Leghorn (delicious). Instead it’s a pelican. I bet I could still eat it!

Vanilluxe: It’s literally ice cream. Most obvious pick of the day.

Wobbuffet: BUFFET IS RIGHT THERE IN THE NAME

What’re you guys gonna do when your Pokemen fall in battle? Bury them solemnly? Pretend like nothing happened?

I’m gonna eat like a goddamn king.

Britt: I told you to draft Oddish for a balanced diet. Better check your arteries and cholesterol.

Christian: The idea of eating a radish is by far the most unrealistic thing to happen in this draft.

Matt: Why are we eating Pokemon again? I’m concerned and I think I have to call the police? Actually, you can eat Wobbuffet.

Matt Ellentuck

5. Milotic, 6. Gyrados, 15. Machamp, 16. Ninetails, 25. Snorlax, 26, Ludicolo

I had very important criteria for my picks. I selected the six who I felt would make the strongest social media team, and I’ll explain why.

My first two picks were Milotic and Gyrados because they are both hot sea monsters. That means they’ll get a lot of likes on IG. Then I picked Machamp because it’d make a dope fitness account, and Ninetails because it definitely wears designer clothes for the ‘Gram. Snorlax is, without a doubt, a depressed meme poster. And Ludicolo def gets WILD on main. He’ll get a lot of “SIR” reply tweets, but hey, engagement is engagement.

That’s a damn squad right there.

Graham: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises some concerns about ... well, a lot of things.

James: While drafting entirely for Pokemon hotness is a fun goof it also raises my opinion and value of you as both a coworker and a person. Live your truth.

Graham: Yeah, James is right. No* judgement.

Christian: I don’t want to eat any of these sexy Pokemen.

Britt: Matt, you’re on cancellation watch.