#maybe even that sodding second part.

[transfemgeorgecostanza]

finished the new walter moers book last night, and i loved it. it is not flawless - some of it feels a bit too familiar within the series - and he may perhaps never again reach the heights of Rumo, City of Dreaming Books, and whatever Der Schrecksenmeister is called in English, but it feels like a return to form. it's less about plot and more about dabbling in the sending up of northern german island culture/tourism, but more focused, more engaging, more Zamonien than, say, whatever Prinzessin Insomnia und der albtraumfarbene Nachtmahr is called in English, or the two thinner volumes of Zamonia novels that felt more like writing exercises than actual writing.

#walter moers #german stuff #zamonien #SOME people have the theory that Moers is not Moers but rather a collective / someone else writing and the writer of the first five novels #as stopped writing them #which i find very weird #and dont believe #MY theory #and this is really nothing but a theory #is that moers has some sort of mega writers' block perhaps brought on by 'external' reasons like illness (or depression or sth) #which is why he a) had someone else draw Prinzessin Insomnia and write sth that is definitely not Zamonien #b) afterwards wrote those two thin books which as mentioned felt like exercises of trying to get back into it #and c) also sorta why the second part of his two part Dreaming Books sequel has still not made it out after what. 12 years? #including i think changing publishers after the first of them? or around that time at least. #we will never know probably #but this makes me hopeful for a future of the series #maybe even that sodding second part.

[moongreenlight]

WIP WEDNESDAY!!

A little 600-ish word snippet of a toxic ex-boyfriend!ghost x reader fic I've been letting collect dust.

Maybe he found out you’re on dating apps (or maybe he’s had your phone tapped) and he’s been texting you about how moronic it would be for you to start dating again. You’ve been able to ignore it for the most part.

But tonight now that you’re out with some guy whose invite you really only accepted to prove a point, your phone will not stop buzzing. You left it in your coat pocket, but even though it’s slung over the back of your chair, it’s all you can think about. It drags your attention away from your date who’s talking about all of nothing.

So you try to fish it out of your coat and set it on your lap so you can silence it and salvage an already bleak situation. It doesn’t work.

There’s texts and phone calls and voicemails coming through even though you swore you turned it all the way off. To a point where you start to get a little worried that maybe it’s a legitimate emergency?

So you excuse yourself just for a second to take a call out the front.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You don’t bother even attempting to be cordial. Hissing like the words would sear your mouth if you didn’t spit them out right then.

“Go home.”

He is exceptionally good at matching your tone. You’d worry he was mocking you if you couldn’t so clearly recognize the venom laced in his words.

You hesitate for a moment. Trying to weigh the pros and cons of getting into some sort of bitching match with him. But then ultimately decide to hang up.

Immediately another call pops up. Faster than you think should be possible. You decline and move to go inside, but still another incoming call lights up your screen.

You pick up just to get him to stop.

“Seriously, Simon, sod off.”

“I’ll put him through that fuckin’ table if he puts a hand on you again. Go home. Leave him the-“

You hang up again before he can finish. Fuming. Exercising what little self control you have in you not to tear into him. Powering your phone down completely and shoving it hard into the bottom of your coat pocket.

You go back to the table. Keeping your head on a swivel all the way in. More angry than unnerved, but unnerved nonetheless. You don’t see Simon. You don’t expect to even if he was there.

You get fifteen minutes with your date until he takes your hand from across the table. It makes you tense up. Accidentally dig your nails into the tablecloth. Smile tightly and try to hide the way your eyes dart around at the other patrons. There’s nobody even looking in your direction. You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold.

Another five minutes pass until your date gets out his phone to show you a picture of his motorcycle. His words die mid-sentence and he goes white as a sheet when he looks at the screen.

“Everything okay?”

It’s mildly genuine concern. Not that you cared to see what he was going to show you, just at his reaction.

“Yeah. No- yeah. Give me- give me just a second. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he talks. He stumbles up. His chair screeches its protest at being so unceremoniously pushed backward.

You twist in your seat and watch him half-jog out the front. He knocks into two tables on his way out, nose still inches from the screen. You don’t know what else to do but push around the half-eaten pasta left on your plate while you wait for him to come back in.

“Hang up that phone on me again n’ see f’I can stay this polite.”

#On my knees begging this to inspire me to start finishing my drafts instead of letting them rot #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #wip wednesday

[thesherrinfordfacility]

okay let's get them hard truths out in the open following episode 6, bearing in mind that i am in the UK and am therefore chronically sleep-deprived, and have watched the Feral Domestic™ maybe only like oh 7 times:

crowley is as much at fault as aziraphale. they are both as bad as each other. their own individual idiosyncrasies are literally the other's emotional downfall and if im honest im not entirely sure there's any way they can adequately move past it.

waxed on and on and on about it, but aziraphale's issue is not that he has any allegiance to heaven. he doesn't at all, and that is obvious in his initial reaction to the metatron, in that he essentially says that he knows his place and it is not Up Above. it is right there in the bookshop, and with crowley (even if he didn't consciously think it that explicitly at the time). he doesn't want any part of the heaven that it currently is, he has had enough and is tired of trying to be the angel that hides who he is and what he wants from his existence. that much is very much clear.

but the mantra throughout most of life is to be the change you want to see in the world. look at the major societal issues that are happening in the world today; people are rising up and fighting for what is right, and what they believe in, and wanting to make changes. now look at this opportunity that aziraphale has been given. regardless of the questionable motive of the metatron offering it to him; if you were in his position, could you say you'd find it easy to refuse that?

the issue here with aziraphale is that he (again, ill harp on about it until the cows come home) thinks that crowley - this demon that isn't a good demon because he is good and kind and gentle - would want to have his place in making that change happen; be by aziraphale's side whilst they create the world and heaven that is different from the largely shit one they've always known, hated, and feared. this is where the Pedestal comes in; like i said before, aziraphale has now been confronted with the fact that this demon, his best friend and love of his life, is acting in the way he's always acted but that aziraphale refuses to acknowledge... because to acknowledge crowley's shortcomings (which ill discuss in a sec) would be to question aziraphale's faith in him, and mean falling from the pedestal that has been aziraphale's status quo for the last few thousand years at minimum.

edit: this also needed adding because it touches on aziraphale's tendency to hold himself superior to crowley, which he also does in the Domestic scene.

crowley's issue is twofold. one, he cannot move on from the fall. second, that he is sometimes a manipulative and childish shit. the first is obvious, and his recent experiences with heaven have only compounded this (ie his conversation with gabriel/goob, where he lays into him about gabriel's part in the cruelty shown towards aziraphale to the point he almost makes goob kill/injure himself). crowley can also however be incredibly cruel borne out of his own pain. there were major hints in s2 that not only did crowley fall (no matter what the metatron says, im still not convinced he fell for only asking questions) but he fell from a great sodding height that in his mind should have made him untouchable. my thoughts on morality in heaven have already been discussed, but that must have had a huge impact on crowley; it is no wonder that it's a sore point and he feels bitter, resentful, and angry.

in the above context, id want nothing to do with heaven either. but crowley doesn't communicate and im guessing that his feelings about the fall are a No Go area in terms of what he's shared with aziraphale... so for crowley to assume that aziraphale turned down the metatron is grossly unfair - how was aziraphale necessarily meant to know how deep his trauma (if we're applying human mental health constructs) runs? he isn't to know that at all - so it does track that aziraphale would think that crowley would want to help him make a difference so they don't have to keep getting involved in the toxicity that is the heaven/hell politico-moral dichotomy.

what also upset me about the Domestic was the kiss. i loved it for what it was in isolation and it was a long time coming, and a huge movement in the dance they constantly have with each other, but it was in essence manipulative. i realise crowley was on his last emotional straw and yes, perhaps the love and devotion got too much for him to contain... but he literally just stood there and heard aziraphale tell him that he wanted crowley and he wanted them to be together. there were no qualms at all that aziraphale loves him as much as he loves aziraphale. so, what was the kiss meant to prove?

to my mind, it was manipulation; specific, a temptation. whilst very romantic and 'sweep him off his feet with the violins playing', it was also non-consensual and unwarranted on crowley's part - to the point of being derogatory and redundant (lets be clear: not a criticism on Neil for adding the kiss, im purely talking about crowley as a character and his Choices here). there was nothing to prove, nothing that that kiss could have possibly convinced aziraphale to do. so the only thing that leaves, imo, is that it was a temptation. crowley does not typically use temptation in this way, or at least that's the impression ive had throughout s1 and s2, so he chooses now is the time? to tempt aziraphale into staying with him? of course he does!

he's desperate, but also childish and immature and completely ignorant of what aziraphale is actually saying to him. aziraphale never denied him; aziraphale wanted him in this opportunity exactly by his side as he always has been. but that didn't fit with what crowley wanted, so he tried to make aziraphale bend to his will. aziraphale says the fatal words "i forgive you", but if he has (as i suspect he has) realised that crowley was trying to manipulate him... well, id probably say something as damning to crowley as 'i forgive you' too.

when aziraphale said 'nothing last forever', i realise crowley took that to mean him and the life that they built together, but it obviously wasn't that at all. aziraphale is saying that they have eternity ahead of them, that he wants to spend it with crowley, whatever has to end around them (ahem the world? apocalypse from s1, anyone?). aziraphale demonstrated consistently throughout s2 that he is trying to give crowley his own agency where heaven/hell are concerned (paraphrased but: "I want you to help me but if you don't want to, you are free to leave"). crowley however seemed that he was constantly one foot out the door in case things got Too Much (which, you know - valid) but aziraphale really did his best to make crowley not only not feel suffocated but also that crowley was wanted. and for anyone that is a tough balancing act.

the two of them have had 6000+ years of Not Really Communicating. this is the detritus that remains when they don't, and it was absolutely needed in this season. for them to break apart and break in and of themselves. s3 needs to be where they learn more about themselves than each other, and stop believing that the other is infallible, because such thinking - worship, blind faith - only ends badly.

#good omens #not the analysis this fandom wants #but the analysis that it needs #i will proof read this at some point so if shit doesnt read well or make sense just pretend that it does #aziraphale meta #s2 meta #feral domestic/final fifteen meta

[actual-changeling]

Crowley watches him silently, motionless, and with his shades securely in place. If he has been counting correctly, and he rather assumes he has, then Aziraphale has been talking uninterruptedly for twenty-five minutes and two seconds now.

Three seconds.

"…so, I'm sorry, Crowley. I'm so, so sorry."

He is wringing his hands, unable to stand still, and shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot, searching for Crowley's gaze and failing. The sudden silence feels almost odd, the expectation rolling off Aziraphale in waves even more so, only infinitely heavier, and for a moment, he entertains the thought playing the part Aziraphale has thrust upon him.

But only for a moment.

"Right," Crowley responds, tightening his grip on the door and pressing his other palm against the frame, effectively barring Aziraphale from entering like he has been for the last twenty-six minutes.

"Anything else?"

Confusion wrinkles his forehead, and his fingers no longer turn his ring round and round over a stretch of reddened skin. Maybe it is the utter monotony of Crowley's voice or the lack of reaction in general, but Aziraphale seems, finally, at a loss for words. His mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyebrows knitting together, and Crowley allows him another thirty seconds of patient waiting, after which he calls it a day.

"Great."

He steps back and closes his front door, normally and without slamming it, locks it, and then miracles up a deadbolt for good measure, before picking up his cup of coffee from the chest of drawers (still hot if it knows what's good for it) and strolling back to the living room.

Eighteen months. A year and a half. Another apocalypse is dawning on the world, but if there is anything the last six millennia have taught him, it's that humanity will fix it anyway; they have a knack for that, always outsmarting heaven and hell alike. Well, and him, since he is neither here nor there—so, a special mention to the former angel slash demon Crowley, thank you very much.

A familiar pain tugs at his stomach nevertheless, a faded lightning bolt of distress shivers down his spine, and Crowley sinks into the cushions with a sigh, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and pressing play on Queer Eye again. The ache will never fully disappear, but it has lessened, and he has learned how to live with it, how to breathe around the crudely stitched-up black hole in his chest.

Aziraphale left, and Crowley stayed. It's really simple, in hindsight, and after weeks of moping and crying, being completely wasted for days at a time, and overall being so miserable, every single one of his plants stopped being scared and became concerned instead, Crowley had picked himself off the floor and kept moving.

Not moving on is worse, Nina had told him during one of their board game nights (none of them can resist Muriel's angelic puppy eyes in that regard, and it is, admittedly, kind of fun), and she had been right.

He still loves him, fuck, of course he does; he doubts he will ever stop. Yet if Aziraphale thinks showing up uninvited and monologuing without pause for twenty-five minutes is going to fix anything, he is sorely mistaken.

'Listen, do you hear that?'

'I don't hear anything.'

Ironic, somehow, that Aziraphale is still not listening to him. Crowley will wait because it's Aziraphale, because he loves him, because despite everything, he is fucking lonely and misses him enough to be tempted to take him back without any apologies whatsoever.

Just tempted, though. His barricades and well-practiced self-control are going strong.

He has to be sure this time. He has to be sure that Aziraphale won't break him again, because the most recent incident almost killed him, and Crowley loves earth, loves him—but he has to love himself more than he loves his angel, or it will destroy them both.

Jonathan van Ness gives some poor sod a new haircut, Crowley drinks his piping hot coffee, and Aziraphale goes home.

It's a nice Tuesday, all things considered.

-

i'm sorry but also not :)

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #good omens ficlet

[hellshire-harlot]

Can’t stop thinking about Childhood Best Friend!Simon Riley. So here.

TW: Mentions of bullying, based heavily off my own childhood, Reader is GN and a child (and presumably American), Fluff and a sprinkle of angst, Autistic!Reader, Simon’s backstory

You meet him when your locker is placed next to his in the second grade. He’s a scraggly little kid, quiet with studious, curious eyes. He doesn’t talk much, like you. You like him almost immediately. Then he opens his mouth, telling the boys who always pick on you to ‘sod off’. He has a funny accent, and you like it.

His name is Simon, which you think is a pretty name. And like all childhood friendships, the bond is as strong as it was quickly sealed. When your teacher calls all of you to the carpet for a lecture or a lesson, you and him always sit together, criss-cross-applesauce like you’re supposed to. When you get fidgety, you bump your knees against each other’s, a silent little language only the two of you know.

Where once both you and him were very quiet, together, you come out of your shells. As much as your teacher likes seeing the two of you blossom, she does have to remind you not to chat during class when there’s work to be done. But it’s hard! You’ve never connected with someone like you have with Simon.

At lunch, you both sit together, always. Usually you sit in a quieter part of the cafeteria, at the end of the long tables where few people sit. During lunch he tells you about his brother, Tommy, and you think he talks so much to distract you from the fact that he has precious little to eat. You don’t like how little he eats, so you parcel out portions of your own (admittedly meager) lunch for him. He insists you don’t have to, but you insist that you do, because that’s what friends are for! He likes being your friend. From that day forward his stomach rumbles a little less each day.

At recess you and him play the wildest games, either just the two of you or with another group of kids. After all, the playground is the neutral ground- all rivalries, all bullying stops the second the recess bell rings and everyone steps out into the mulch. He’s really fast, and a little too strong for his age and size, and you think maybe sometimes he lets you win. Never once do you stray too far from one another; you and him both silently fear that leaving even once will reveal that the other is merely an illusion.

You think differently than most other kids. Simon does too, and in that you find kinship. When numbers jumble in your head, he helps you, solving problems with ease, and when he struggles to get through his writing assignments you guide him through each paragraph. Art class is a favorite you share. Watercolors stain your little fingers, and a dot of pink paint remains on your nose from when he dabbed just a bit on the tip. Together, you make works of art that your teacher is left in awe of.

Where once classes were an endless boring struggle, time passes in a golden, hazy bliss with him at your side. He has the same mind as you, something you’ve never encountered, and it’s magical. Suddenly all the bullies, the cruel kids and the indifferent teachers, cease to matter, because you have the bestest friend in the whole wide world. He takes the bus home, and you get picked up by a parent each afternoon, and every time you have to part for the day you hug and promise to bring him something nice to eat for lunch tomorrow. From the car window, your parent watches on, thrilled that their child has made such a wondrous friend.

Weeks turn into months turn into years. Simon cries when you make him a Christmas gift in class, you hug him so tight he can barely breathe when he leaves a Valentine’s gift in your locker, the only one to do so. You beg your teachers and parents to keep putting you in the same class as him, and blessedly, they allow it. From second to third to fourth grade things remain the same. It’s hard sometimes, but Simon is going through the same things. It’s nice not to be alone, and even when everyone else turns against you, he stays by your side.

It’s in fifth grade that you both finally convince your parents to have him over for a night or two. And when Simon comes to your house, your parents go a little quiet. You don’t know why- yeah, he’s a little scrawny and thin for his age, and he gets banged up sometimes, but who doesn’t? You’re too young, too sweet, to know the truth behind the visible ribs and the endless bruises and scars on your friend’s body. But your parents are keen, and when they realize the extent of Simon’s situation, they know they have to do something.

The next morning, your dad cooks a huge breakfast for all of you, and Simon is thrilled to be eating so much delicious food! Your parents, though worried and protective, are utterly enchanted by your friend. They make sure to keep you and him occupied over the weekend while they do what they need to do. Neither you nor him overhear the endless calls they make in adjacent rooms to various services. The final straw is when you accidentally knock something onto the kitchen floor, and Simon panics. When your parents come in to see if you’re alright, he puts himself in front of you and orders them in a voice far too mature to leave you alone. As if they’d do anything to you, as if they’d hurt you. As if he needed to protect you.

That night, you and him share a sleeping bag because he has nightmares about snakes and men in skull masks. You give him one of your stuffies to hold. Deep into the night, two people, skittish and dirty and scared, are welcomed into your house.

Simon’s mom and little Tommy.

Through the school’s counselor your parents got ahold of Simon’s mother, telling her to pack what she could and come to your home, where she and Tommy would be safe. Simon is both confused and happy to see his family at the table for breakfast the next morning, and you’re thrilled to meet his family. But the talk around the grownup table is all serious, and so you and Simon and Tommy are left in another room to play.

In the afternoon CPS comes knocking, to interview Simon and his mom. They look him over, jot down his address, and leave, and only a few hours later they call your parents again to inform you all that Simon’s dad has been arrested. He’ll never touch Simon or Tommy again.

After that, things are kind of a blur. Simon’s mom gets full custody when his dad gets life in prison for his crimes, which you learn more about as you grow older. When the house next door to yours opens up, you help the Rileys purchase it, and the fence between your adjacent lawns gets taken down. More years pass, as you and Simon and Tommy grow up all together.

Some things get worse over time, but Simon is there. Always. And he’s not going anywhere.

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #cod ghost #call of duty #cod x reader #Ghost X Reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x Reader #Fluff #kid fic #I feel like if I had grown up alongside him I would have turned out better. #I think we would have been friends. I think that would have been lovely. #From the desk of Lovelace #my writing

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Jaskier retreated from the main hall. Leaving the remaining Wolves to see to their injured and dead and readying himself for another night tucked away in his wreck of a room, determined to stay out of the way after already having been largely ignored since his arrival and then shoved away by Lambert twice. He found himself wondering if he should count the first time, considering that he probably saved Jaskier’s life in the process? Probably not. The second time though was just plain spiteful. But then, he and Geralt had been travelling together for years and the white haired Witcher tolerated his casual affection at best – why else would it always be down to Jaskier to initiate when he'd seen the Witcher freely hug and give causal touches to Ciri and Yen multiple times?

He swallowed down his self pity as he realised he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere – he definitely didn’t recognise that particular crack in the wall.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he slumped against the wall. Part of him wondered if he should maybe be feeling a little more panicked about this turn of events, considering he’d been warned that some parts of the Keep were unsafe (whilst neglecting to tell him which parts. So that was incredibly fucking useful). Then again, it wasn’t exactly like he’d be missed, even if the Wolves weren’t currently preoccupied with the aftermath of a possessed princess unleashing almost literal Hell. He closed his eyes and rest his head against the freezing stone. Sod it, this was just as out of the way as anywhere else. He’d try and get his bearings in an hour or two.

“Jaskier. Jaskier!”

Jaskier jerked awake at the shout of his name, squinting at the sun through the window, surprised by how little time had actually passed.

Geralt barrelled around the corner just as he was trying to shake some of the stiffness out of his shoulders, the Witcher looking panic-stricken as he practically ran to the Bard, “Jaskier.”

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Has something else happened with Ciri? Has Yen’s chaos - oh!” He was cut off as Geralt pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly and effectively trapping the Bard’s own between their torsos as he hid his face in Jaskier’s shoulder, “Fuck. Geralt, talk to me. What’s happened?”

“I couldn’t find you.”

Jaskier gave an eloquent “Huh?” at that, “Geralt, did you hit your head and not say anything again? You did find me. You broke me out of prison, remember?”

He felt Geralt shake his head, “No. Just now. You weren’t in the hall, or where Yen showed me you’d been sleeping or anywhere else I checked. I thought something had happened to you and none of us had noticed. I hadn’t noticed.” He pulled his face away, allowing Jaskier to fully look at him, “You scared me.”

Jaskier lowered his eyes, ‘Congratulations Julian. Yet another fuck up.’

“I’m sorry. I thought it’d be better for everyone if I stayed out the way.”

“No, Jaskier.” Large fingers tilted his chin up until sky blue met molten yellow, “I’m sorry. For pushing you away on the mountain, for keeping you at arms length here, for how the others have treated you.”

“I don’t think you have much control over the last one to be fair.”

“Yes, I do. Ciri made me realise I should have set them right as soon as I arrived back. She gave Lambert an earful for shoving you like he did after his injuries had been checked over.”

Jaskier gave a brief smile at that before the mood turned serious again, “Can I ask why though?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought we were ok after you trusted me to escort Ciri and then you just acted as if I were invisible. what did I do wrong?” He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, “I know I can be too much. I was too much when we were together, I see that now and I want to try and fix things. Stop being so, well, me. But I can’t when I don’t even know what I did between the prison and here to make you angry at me again.”

Geralt looked at him like Jaskier had just been the one to sucker punch him, “You did nothing Jaskier, you never did. I acted as I did because, well, you terrified me. Still do.”

Jaskier gave a wet laugh, “I seem to be making a habit of that today.”

“I mean it.” Geralt continued, “You shoehorned yourself alongside me and you were – are – so full of life and joy and light. I wanted to keep you for myself. Something I’ve never felt so strongly before, not for Yen, not for Renfri. I wanted to know you completely and be known in return and that realisation scared me more than any monster I’ve faced. I didn’t know how to let you in like that, so I pushed you away.”

In a moment of bravery (or perhaps madness), he brushed his lips against Jaskier’s forehead, hearing the Bard’s breath catch, “You’re not the one who needs to change, Jaskier. You never were. I just don’t know how to start, but I’ll try. For you and Ciri and Yen.”

“My darling Witcher, you already have changed.” Jaskier, squirmed until he was able to loop his arms around Geralt’s waist, finally returning the embrace, “You and Yen are able to be in the same room and act like actual adults, you finally took responsibility for Ciri, and as for me-“ Jaskier gave Geralt’s waist a squeeze, “You do realise this is the first time you’ve hugged me first?”

Geralt brushed his lips against Jaskier’s brow again, firmer this time, “First of many. If you’ll allow it.”

“Always.”

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #jaskier/geralt #jaskier x geralt #witcher geralt #geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher jaskier #jaskier

[chachadelight]

Celle qui s'est enfuie

Part 1 | Part 2

Rating & Warnings: Swearing, smut, a tiny bit of violence

I’d also like to thank those who encouraged me to write this and! also thank you to @rymndsmth for some of the inspo I had for some of the saucyness that happens here. Their ‘kyoto’ series is top fuckin notch, please do give it a read!! This is a one shot technically, but if it’s well received I might write a second or third part, probably nothing longer than that but who knows! Enjoy!

Pairings: Tangerine x Assassin!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: All he has to do is follow the rules; but Tangerine’s never been big on rules. Where does that leave him?

“Yeah well, he’s a diesel innit?”

“Lemon what’d I say huh? If you talk about Thomas the Tank Engine again I’m gon- “

“You’re gonna’ shoot me in the face—I know”.

Yet there he went on again. It had only been about 30 minutes since they had gotten onto the train and Tangerine was already at his limit. If he hadn’t loved his dear brother as much as he did he most likely would’ve fulfilled his promise a long time ago.

Lemon sat back against his chair, huffing with annoyance as he adjusted the lapel of his jacket. “Right well, all we gotta’ do is get this fucker his lazy sod of a son and his hard drive and we can go home”, Lemon gestured to the opposing seats, a young tattooed boy blissfully passed out and pressed up against the window. “You’ve got the drive yeah?”

“Yeah thanks for the update Lemon I got it”. Tangerine rolled his eyes before checking the time on his watch; they had hours before they made it to their stop at Kyoto. Maybe this would be a great opportunity for them to actually relax for once considering that only a few hours ago they were about knee deep in blood just trying to get their hands on the White Death’s son.

It was a job they hesitated for that’s for sure, but after hearing about the pay out and just how keen their contractor was on getting them specifically for the job, they just couldn’t say no. They were professionals after all, they weren’t going to scrutinise that for nobody.

Tangerine’s gaze was suddenly stolen as one of the train crew members rolled by with a cart full of food. Without even thinking the male reached over at pinched a couple of bags from the cart.

“You don’t need to nick the biscuits”.

“Why do I do that? It’s like a compulsion or something”. 

“You should see someone bout’ that”.

Tangerine cringed at himself, knowing full well his little klepto issue was something he needed to attend to but just never really got around to addressing.

The two men’s attention was stolen away when the chime indicating the train was coming to a stop sounded off, but only briefly once they noticed only a

couple of average looking citizens made their way through the cart. All but one.

“Mate she’s right lush”. Tangerine’s upper lip twitched upward ever so slightly as his head gestured forwards, causing Lemon to turn his head in an oh so not very inconspicuous way.

“Fuckin’ make it look any more obvious would ya, fucken git”.

There she was. The woman Tangerine was referring to. Hair ever so slightly covering her gaze, only adding to the sensual nature of her kohl lined eyes and red tinted lips. She walked with poise and a sense of elegance to her, she seemed unsuspecting but the way she carried herself said more about her that Tangerine just sensed deep down. What the sense was he had no idea but he really didn’t care at this point. She wore a black pleated skirt and socks that stopped just at her thighs, god, her thighs. The edge of the fabric hugging her flesh oh so perfectly it almost made Tangerine huff...almost.

His eyes flicked back up to catch the silver chain around her neck sat stark against the fabric of her black turtleneck. The man had obviously stared a little too long because she had caught his gaze by the time, she found her place into a seat that had her in perfect sight of him. The woman’s lip quirked into a shy smile, a blush forming on her cheek as she quickly looked away once realising his stare was for her only.

“Who’s the one makin it obvious now mate?”

Tangerine however didn’t look away, why would he? He wasn’t some shy schoolboy. He held her gaze for as long as she was staring back, knowing her bashfulness was his doing only fed his already massive ego. With a tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, Tangerine only chuckled with pride once he saw the effect he had on her, of course, too easy.

Lemon shook his head quickly in succession, twisting his face in disagreement. “Nah nah nah, none of that”.

“None of what?”

“None of—” Lemon tilted his head quickly to the side, motioning to the woman. “That”.

Tangerine scoffed and reached up to slick back his hair in a show of confidence and ease. “Dunno what you’re on about mate”.

“The last thing we need is you goin’ off and shagging some girl in the middle of a job”.

Immediately Tangerine showed offense to his brother’s accusation and started adjusting the collar of his suit with a shake of his head. “Don’t be stupid”. He shook his head again in dismissal but still managed to sneak another look at the woman, quickly getting the chance to catch a glimpse of the way her thighs pressed together as she sat cross-legged. Fuck she looked good just sitting there. Lemon and Tangerine’s line of work wasn’t exactly the most social occupation in the world, there wasn’t really time for making friends let alone a sexual partner. So, to say that Tangerine was a little ‘deprived’ might have been a slight understatement.

“Whatever Tangerine...I’m gonna’ go secure the train. Make sure everything’s in check”.

“Yeah right”.

A sudden slam to the table had Tangerine’s attention onto his brother in an instant, his eyes wide as if to say, ‘what the fuck Lemon’?

“I fuckin mean it, no funny business”.

‘Yeah yeah alright, fuckin ell’ you’re like my mother or somethin”.

And with that, his brother disappeared into the next train cart and Tangerine was left alone. Just him, the White Death’s sleeping son and his raging hormones.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her and she was well aware of it herself. There was no such thing as sneaky stolen glances anymore. Tangerine had no shame at this point with the way he tapped his fingers lightly against the table, his gaze fixated on her form, tracing a line up from her legs to her face he noticed her looking back.

Although this time she didn’t look away shyly, if anything she was now smiling back. Her red lips pulled back unto a smirk as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. With a wave the woman wiggled her fingers in Tangerine’s direction in a form of a flirtatious wave, a completely opposing energy to what she showed only moment before when she first boarded the train.

Tangerine lifted a brow as a chuckle escaped his lips, curiosity was definitely getting the better of him. He peered behind his shoulder, wondering if Lemon was going to turn the corner any moment. He did say he would behave himself.

Well who the fuck cares about what Lemon tells him what to do? He was never big on following the rules anyway.

Just like that Tangerine found himself walking towards her, a hand smoothing down his hair and fingers making quick work at is sleeves to roll them up to his elbows. Soon enough he slipped into the chair opposite to the woman, leaned back with a coolness Tangerine had long ago perfected with ease.

“Now what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ here eh?”

“Just visiting a friend in Kyoto”. Her voice rang like bells in his ears and the smile on her lips was only making her that much more tantalising.

“Got a long way to go just to visit a friend no?”

She grinned “Maybe. I guess I’m just devoted like that”.

Tangerine reached up and smoothed a finger over his moustache as he gave her another once over she didn’t fail to notice. “I guess we’re both gonna be here for a while then?”

“I guess so”.

It was almost nard to keep her focus. Almost.

Those blue eyes paired with that accent had no doubt gotten this man anything and everything he’d ever wanted. And now here he was facing her, leaned back in his seat with the scent of his ego practically oozing off of him. The way he looked at her was predatory, his gaze eating her up with every chance he could get. She was amused to say the least, and the grin on her lips was impossible to get rid of. Her job was relatively simple, get the drive from the twins and get off the train before they ever noticed. But what her handler failed to mention was just how delicious a certain curly haired killer

“I guess we’re both gonna be here for a while then?”

“I guess so”. With that she leaned forward against crossed arms, her breasts provocatively pressed up against each other. Tangerine’s eyebrow twitched upward with interest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip as he simply followed her movements by leaning in towards the table, closing the gap between the pair.

“What am I going to do with you luv?” She couldn’t help herself when her teeth grazed her bottom lip, why was he so hard to ignore? He was so close to her now and she could smell his cologne so vividly. He smelled of vanilla, cigars and smoke, no doubt fresh from a fight and it was a sent that could make her legs shake from excitement. She wasn’t supposed to get too involved but now he asked her that question and she didn’t really feel like behaving.

She had a little time to spare and she just couldn’t find herself not taking this delicious opportunity.

Their gazes were locked and for moment she let her eyes dip down to peer at his lips, head tilting ever so slightly as the next sentence slipped from her mouth with a little too much finesse. “Anything you want”.

It was clear they were on the same page. Yet what made everything in her favour was that he had no idea that she was after exactly what he had. He hadn’t even asked for her name; it couldn’t have been any better.

Tangerine let out a huff from his nose as he promptly stood from the chair, picking at an invisible piece of lint from his shirt before making his way past her. However not before slyly grazing his fingers over the edge of her jawline, letting his fingers glide through her hair for a moment before he continued his b-line to the train bathroom.

She smiled to herself, a breath seizing in her throat for just a moment as she felt the warmth of his fingers against her skin.

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

She soon found herself slipping into the too small train bathroom, her palms pressed against the door for just a moment longer before she turned around to find the man leaning himself against the too small sink. The air inside suddenly turned thin, and the beating of her heart thrummed wildly against her chest. Why she did not know, she was not one to get nervous in a situation like this but this man...this man was unlike any other she had come across. He made the others seem insignificant and judging by the way she almost shook just from his burning gaze; she could tell this was going to be different.

“You know...” She cooed softly as she took a step forward, noting the way his forearms flexed as his grip on the edge of the sink tightened. “I don’t even know your name”. Reaching forward she looped a single finger over the gold chain decorating the empty space on the man’s neck, a single tug forward causing him to snicker.

She was playing a dangerous game and as soon as she took her grip on that necklace and it tightened around his neck something inside him snapped to attention. “Just call me Tangerine luv”.

“Like the fruit?” She quirked an eyebrow “and his hands found her hips. “Yeah, like the fruit”.

“How – “She looped in a second finger and tugged once more causing Tangerine to grunt at the sudden squeeze he now felt around his neck. “– Cute”.

Tangerine let out a puff of air that sounded like amusement, their lips so close to one another she could feel his warm breath fan across her face. “Watch it luv”.

“Or what?” She liked this game. But so did he.

Lips against lips in a matter of seconds. The kiss was hungry, desperate, it was angry. She had clearly pressed the right buttons because the grip he help on her hips was bruising. Fingers digging deep into her skin as they both fought for the dominance of the kiss. He tasted just as he smelled, smoke and vanilla permeated her lips and mouth, and she couldn’t help herself as she whined into the kiss.

He pulled he in closer, hips pressed flush together that had her melting into his touch to the point that she let go of her grip on his, completely forgetting that she was trying to win dominance only moments before.

His fingers soon found home in her hair, digits twisting into her locks before tugging roughly to pull her head backwards, exposing her neck to him. “Not so cheeky now hey luv?” His voice had deepened, laced with arrogance as he dipped down to attach his lips to her neck and leave a trail of hungry bruises he knew she would have to look at for days to come.

If she could see herself she knew she would be mad; mad that she had let this man cause her to become so undone in a matter of minutes. This wasn’t what she had in mind but it had been so long since someone had made her feel this alive.

“Don’t—” He cut her off quickly when his mouth found hers once more, tongue slipping past her lips without a moment wasted. “Get—cocky”. She managed to let out a few breathless words between the sloppy kisses, her breath heaving in her chest to keep up with his hunger.

Tangerine chuckled against her lips before he hauled her upwards with a little too much ease, her arms found solace around his neck whilst her legs wrapped securely around his waist. He carried her over towards the closed toilet seat before settling down, allowing her to find herself seated comfortably in his lap. This gave her a chance to catch her breath from the bruising kiss, hazed over eyes peering down at an equally dishevelled Tangerine.

He was beautiful like this, in the dim lighting of the train bathroom, perfectly gelled hair now a mess on top of his head. Blue eyes turned a storm cloud grey and hooded with desire. It was almost a shame that she was going to have to steal from him and run away, never to been again.

That’s when she saw it. Peering down his vest pocket she saw the glint of the hard drive poking its head out, her heart skipping a beat. It was right there, un his pocket. And she had him seduced and sexed up in the bullet train bathroom.

This was too good.

His hands slowly slid their way up the exposed part of her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her skirt before stopping dangerously close to exactly where she wanted him. The cold of the varying rings decorating his fingers sent a shiver through her.

With her new position she didn’t miss the way his hardened length pressed against her clothed core, a coy smile on her lips growing as she took the opportunity to grind her hips downwards. Immediately eliciting a groan from Tangerine that wanted to make her go wild

“You gonna’ ride me sweetheart?” He cooed.

She leaned in towards him, her fingers snaking their way into the back of his hair before tugging softly. Doing what he had done to hair by yanking his head back to give her more access to his neck. “Anything you want handsome”.

Tangerine’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her lips against the shell of his ear, the tightness of his hair being pulled sending him into a craze that his grip on his hips and thighs tightening even more. He pulled her down against himself, the sound of her soft mewl letting him smirk with pride.

She couldn’t help it, the feeling of having him press against her was driving her crazy. She had found herself at a rhythm, hips swirling back and forth. Her movements at his command as his hands guided her every move. It didn’t take her long to get panting, her head falling back to indulge in the feeling of his hardness rutting against her. His soft grunts filled the small space and run in her ears.

The heat that was overtaking her body was indescribable and at some point his hands had found home against the slope of her arse, kneading the flesh generously. She needed to feel him, just him.

And it seemed like he had the same idea because Tangerine was rushing for his pants—she reached down with him when she was able to become coherent enough to pay attention. They both knew this was going to be anything but sweet and slow, this was going to be quick and hard but neither of them was complaining.

“You’re gonna take me like a good girl...” Tangerine gripped the base of his length, pulling her panties to side to teasingly circle the head against her folds. “Aren’t you sweetheart?”

She whimpered softly, her breath catching in her throat as his length prodded at her entrance, threatening to enter her at any moment. He was too good, and the way those pet names rolled off his tongue in that accent was doing things to her she had just never expected. But she was losing patience, and the more he had her coming undone the more frustrated she became with herself.

“Fuck me good and find out”.

He growled and with one sudden upwards thrust and guttural groan he sheathed himself inside her. She cried out at the sudden intrusion, almost regretting her show of defiance before the painful sting was replaced by the sweet sting of pleasure. Tangerine reached up, his palm pressing against her mouth to muffle her scream as he let out an amused chuckle.

“Careful luv, wouldn’t want anyone to know we’re doing in here”.

She knew he was right but the way ne filled her just right had her eyes rolling to the back of her head and all her inhibitions disappeared.

“That’s it...” He cooed again, one hand squeezing against her hip and the other snaking its way up her chest. It didn’t take long to build up a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping up against her almost painfully. The pace had her biting down on her own lip, hard enough to the point she drew a small amount of blood, the taste of iron coating her tongue as she propped her hands behind her on his knees or support.

Tangerine watched her with a lust in his gaze, hard muffled grunts leaving is lips with every thrust of his hips. He kept his hold on one side of her hips whilst the other had found its way around her throat, fingers squeezing a firm pressure onto her neck that was already littered with his bruises.

Now with the added loss of oxygen, she was being sent into complete bliss. Pleasure was already overtaking every inch of her body and she could feel that familiar twinge in the centre of her core, that feeling of unwinding threatening to break at any moment.

He never let up his pace, sweat beading at the crown of his head as he focused himself on her, on her body and the way she started to tighten around him. She was close and her warmth only egged him on, encouraging him to only wreck her even more.

“Let go for me sweetheart”. He managed to grunt out his words, focusing on getting her to the end.

She whined softly, trying her best on not screaming out as the searing hot burn of her climax finally imploded inside her. Her body seized from the pure pleasure. Tangerine’s hips stuttered with her release, the constant feeling of her core flexing around him sending him over the edge shortly after her. He filled her with his warmth, the feeling sending a shiver through her already sensitive body.

“Fuckin’ ell”. Falling forwards into Tangerine’s surprisingly caring embrace his arms wrapped around her to help her ride out her orgasm, “Good girl”. Tangerine stroked the back of her head, heavy breath blowing past her ear with the words of praise.

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

Surprisingly he helped her clean herself up, where she had expected him to leave as soon as they were done. But now, here she was, watching him primp himself in the mirror, smoothing those beautiful curls back down to a somewhat more presentable way.

She hadn’t forgotten about the drive in his breast pocket however.

He had his back turned to her as she silently stayed leaning against the door of the bathroom, her head tilted in observation as she waited for the exact moment to make her move. He was gorgeous, he really was, and shit he made her feel good. Him standing there now, examining every little detail of himself in the mirror, ensuring he was presentable or perhaps just liked looking at himself a little too much. But he was charming, too charming for his own good. Damn...she was starting to like him.

“You know...it’s a real shame”. “What’s that luv?” “Sorry about this”.

“Sorry about wha—" Without letting him finish his sentence she had already gripped the side of his head, using maximum force without being lethal to send the man’s head directly into the side of the porcelain sink. With a deafening crack and a loud groan of pain, Tangerine was on the floor, a sizeable cut on that beautiful forehead of his.

She sighed dramatically before squatting down beside a groaning Tangerine, clearly disorientated from the hit to the head. “No hard feelings?” She cooed, a grin on her lips as she slipped the hard drive from his pocket and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“Oi...you—f...fucken ch...cheeky”.

“Shhh, you’ve hit your head. Rest a while”. And with that she disappeared through the bathroom door.

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

“You’ve got to be fucken’ kidding me”. Lemon stood before Tangerine, hands on his hips as his twin held a bag of frozen whatever against the forming lump on his forehead. “What’d I fucken say?”

“Shut up mate”. “Thomas would nev-“ “Don’t even fucken go there”.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #bullet train #tangerine fanfic #tangerine x y/n #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train fanfic

[george-weasleys-girl]

oii it's me again🍄 Can i request a fluff/"angst" one-shot

"Are you sure you’re not jealous?" "PFFT, absolutely not. Of course not. By the way, totally unrelated question. You wouldn’t care if that person randomly disappeared off the face of the earth one day, would you?"

With older Fred, maybe in their store

Jealousy

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: a couple of curse words

~•~

Fred drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes locked onto Y/N and Alex Burke. He came into the store every week with his stupid little haircut and his stupid little outfits and his stupid little face with his stupid little smile.

And he asked specifically for her.

Every damn time.

As if Burke even had a chance with her. Which he didn't. Of course, he didn't.

"You know you could just ask her out," George stepped over to stand beside his twin.

Fred bristled. "And why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've been head over heels for her since she walked into the shop looking for a job."

"I'm not - " Fred began, but George barreled on as if his brother hadn't spoken.

"Annd, because your head is on the verge of exploding, and I don't feel like cleaning up the mess."

Fred rolled his eyes in response and went back to glaring at Burke, who was now laughing his stupid little laugh.

~•~

"Ugh, I can't stand that guy," Fred grumbled to Y/N after Alex had left. "He was all over you today."

"What do you mean, all over me?" Y/N looked up from the register. "He touched my arm once. I hardly consider that being 'all over me.' "

"Well, his eyes were," Fred huffed. "I can't believe you don't see it."

Y/N turned to stare at him. "Are you - jealous?"

"What? No!" he said. "I just don't like the way he stares at you like he wants to devour you."

Y/N continued to stare at him.

"What?" He shrugged.

"Are you sure you’re not jealous?"

"PFFT," Fred waved off her question. "Absolutely not. Of course not." He said, then paused for a few seconds before continuing. "By the way, totally unrelated question. You wouldn’t care if he randomly disappeared off the face of the earth one day, would you?"

Y/N had turned her attention back to the register, but her head snapped back up at that. "What??"

"What?" He shrugged again. "I just don't like the way he looks at you."

"Why do you even care? It's not like we're dating or anything." Y/N shook her head and stalked off.

"She does have a point, you know," George whispered, leaning in close to his twin.

"Oh sod off," Fred snapped and stomped away.

~•~

Y/N parted the crowds as she stormed down the street. She'd chosen to walk to the cafe on the other side of Diagon Alley instead of taking her lunch at the shop.

She'd realized months ago that she'd fallen for Fred. She'd done everything she could, short of just blurting it out, to let him know. And for what?

Nothing. Not even the tiniest ounce of interest returned.

And now, suddenly, he's upset because someone flirted with me? No. That's not how this gets to work.

Next time I see Alex, she decided. I'm asking him out.

~•~

Y/N peeked her head in the open office door. "Hey, I was wondering if I could leave work a little early on Friday?"

George looked up from his desk. "We're usually pretty busy on Fridays."

"Oh, I'm only asking for about a half-hour. I have a date - " she tried to explain but was interrupted a loud clatter when Fred dropped a box of new supplies. "I... uh..." Y/N began again, side-eyeing him. "Alex was able to get reservations at that new restaurant next to Ollivander's. But, it's for a little earlier than I'd expected."

"No." Fred snapped.

"No?" Y/N looked from Fred to George.

"It's only a half hour," George smirked at his twin. "I think we can manage - "

"I said NO," Fred pushed past Y/N and thundered out the door.

Y/N looked back at George, who shook his head, giving her an apologetic look. "I'll try to talk to him. But he seems pretty set."

"Don't bother," Y/N huffed and followed Fred out. The only reason he refused to give her the time off was because she had a date. If it'd been anything else, he wouldn't have cared. He would've probably told her to take the whole afternoon.

"Fred!" She called after him.

He stopped and looked back at her, and then, without a word, he continued on to the warehouse. Y/N followed him. "What is your problem?" She yelled at him, no longer caring if he fired her.

"Problem?" Fred put the box on a shelf and turned to glare at her. "I don't have a problem."

"Ok, great!" She said. "Then give me the time off."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not giving you time off to go on a date," he said. "Do that on your own time or not at all."

"Excuse me," Y/N put her hands on her hips. "You have no right to dictate my personal life."

"If it interferes with your job, yeah, I do!" Fred commanded, then turned back to organizing the shelf.

"No. You. Don't." She reiterated. "I quit!"

"What?" Fred whirled around.

"You heard me. I quit."

"You can't quit! I won't let you!"

Y/N laughed out loud. "Like you have a choice in the matter."

"I do! I'm your boss!" Fred stepped toward her.

She laughed again. "Not anymore."

"But, you can't just quit!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"Because I'm in love with you!" The words spilled out of Fred's mouth before he could stop himself.

Y/N went as still as a statue.

"Fuck," Fred muttered under his breath.

"You - you're in love with me?" Y/N took a step forward.

"Never mind. Forget it," Fred's voice went cold and flat. "I'm your boss, and I shouldn't have feelings like that for you. I'll have your severance check ready by the end of the week."

"Oh, no, no, no," Y/N moved to stand before him, waggling her finger. "You don't get to tell me you love me and then tell me to forget it. Especially when I feel the same way!"

"Because you're - wait, what?" Fred stared at her, wide-eyed.

"I love you too!" She said. "But you're too much of a dumbass to notice."

Fred blinked. "You just called me a dumbass..."

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. "I just told you I love you back, and all you heard was that called you a dumbass?!"

"Well, no... I mean... " He stammered. "I just..."

Y/N cut him off by slamming her lips into his.

Fred was never one to turn down a kiss, but for a second, he froze, waiting for the surprise slap to happen.

But it never did. And he lost himself in the softness of her mouth on his and the little moan that escaped it.

"Wow..." He marveled once they came up for air. "You're a really good kisser."

Y/N grinned. "You're not too shabby yourself."

Fred chuckled, his ears inexplicably burning bright red. "So, um, does this mean... well, you know..."

"That I'm canceling my date and going out with you instead?" She slipped her arms around his waist. "Oh, absolutely."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @Havenater1920

#fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #hp fandom #hp universe

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 14 - Sex on Fire

📓 We have fluff! We have some smut!

This song specifically was one of the big three that inspired this fic! When I saw TGM and the scene at the end when Mav takes Penny up in his plane, this song matched the vibe, and I knew I wanted this for Jake and Liz.

Though I would love for you guys to try and guess which one is the song that inspired the whole story! Cause there is one! 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child character, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18,), FLUFF, aerophobia, and second dates.

#7k

Part 13 | Masterlist | Part 15

(Bradley's Spin-Off one shot here)

Jake and Sadie were conniving little lunatics. 

Scratch that. Sadie was an annoying insect who knew how to push buttons to get what she wanted. Jake was a gullible poor sod who had the habit of being played by said insect more than once. Because you knew without a doubt, sitting in the front seat of Jake's truck, blindfolded without any idea where you were going, this had her name written all over it.

"Is the blindfold really necessary, Jake?"

"If you knew where I was taking you, you'd jump out of my truck in an instant."

"That's not very reassuring."

Jake chuckled, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Sadie would kill me if I didn't follow through on this. After all our hard work."

"So you're doing this more for her than me," you tease. You could hear the smile in his voice when Jake replied, "The ladybug incident didn't scare you enough. Sadie's scary when she wants to be."

You chuckled softly, Jake joining in as you felt his thumb stroke across your knuckles.

Going on a date had been the last thing on your mind.

Tyler was still a major concern. Even with Cyclone keeping a watchful eye on the group of police assigned to Sadie and your case, they still needed actual leads. You hadn't paid much attention to his phone call the other day, explaining the pressure on Tyler's father to drop out of his political race or how Tyler's stupid white car was spotted on the interstate, leaving California altogether.

It should have brought you some comfort, but it didn't. The longer time stretched on, the more anxious you felt, wondering when he would make his next move.

Then there was also the matter of Bradley. Stupid, over-emotional, Bradley.

It had been days since Sadie found you in the bathtub - days since the fight. You hadn't heard from him, nor did you expect to. Maybe a tiny part of you didn't want him to reach out. But any nasty thoughts you harboured for him in the days following only managed to turn themselves into pity.

You knew his story. Mav told it enough times for you to recite it by heart. Bradley had only been two when his father tragically passed away. And Carole, his mom, had been devastated. You couldn't begin to understand the circumstances he had to go through as a kid. Each time Mav told the story, he always stressed that no love could have matched Carole and Goose's.

It's no wonder Bradley felt their loss in the way that he did. And you did feel partially guilty, wondering if talking to him about everything before it had gotten this bad would have made a difference. But it was clear he was internalizing something bigger than just hurt feelings. 

You weren't going to make the first move. That would have to be up to him.

It better be a damn good apology.

The idea of a possible date started when Sadie had called you a panicking-inducing hermit, much to Jake's amusement, scared to do anything remotely fun outside the confines of the house. Honesty? It was more to do with the fact there had been no sign of Tyler, no white car following you or sitting outside your house to encourage your paranoia.

You had gone to bed early after that, Jake and Sadie staying up playing a game of cards. You had no idea what time it was when Jake climbed into your bed, waking you up in the process when he pulled you into his chest. But it was definitely later than it should have been for a game of cards.

Jake had stayed with the two of you. Every morning you got to wake up either next to him or in his arms. The Daggers were still grounded; whether it was repairs or upper politics of the Navy, you weren't sure. But you were utterly grateful for his presence. 

It became evident that it was clearly more than a game of cards the following morning. Because in the hours after breakfast, Sadie made herself scarce. And Jake purposely kept you away from the garage, where he had parked his truck, in case Tyler decided to visit.

Sadie's maniacal laughter was another indication, so loud you could hear it through the garage walls. You were slightly concerned about what Jake was letting her do in there. 

But it all came to a head when Nat and Bob showed up at your door, telling you they were watching Sadie for the night, the Bug in question grinning ear to ear as she joined you at the door. You tried to refuse. You didn't want to leave her alone. In a surprise move, Sadie pouted at you. 

She had never once pouted over anything. No, she pushed, sassed, humoured, and produced receipts when she wanted to get her way.

 It freaked you out, so much so you couldn't bring yourself to say no. Which is how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jake's truck, Nat and Bob standing with her on your front porch as she shouted for both of you to have a good time as he backed out of your driveway.

This was the worst possible timing. And yet, after everything they did, you felt like you owed it to them to try.

"You deserve this, darlin'." Jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, knowing you feel guilty. You squeeze his hand, dropping your chin to your chest. You have to remind yourself that Sadie is safe at home with Nat and Bob, probably arguing over music or what board game to play. And most importantly, you were allowed to take time to do things like this.

It's a few more minutes before Jake finally parks his truck, letting go of your hand and gently taking hold of your face. "Do you promise to give this a chance?"

"I don't even know what you've gotten me into. What Sadie and you got me into."

You can't see his face, so you can't tell what he's thinking. But you can imagine what he looks like right now as you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You bet he's staring at you apprehensively, gritting his jaw, and letting out a tiny huff of breath.

"You trust me, right?"

You turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. "You know I do, Jake."

"Then trust me when I say you won't regret this." You sucked in a breath before you nodded.

Jake lets go of your face to get out of his truck, walking around to open your door and help you out of your seat. You were instantly met with the smell of gasoline and pavement, the hot waves travelling up the bare skin of your legs, and your dress slightly flowing in the wind. There's a second where you think you heard the rumble of an engine or a zoom of a plane, but Jake doesn't give you much time to think about it as he helps you step down and shuts the door behind him.

Looping your arm through his, he leads you away, walking for a bit until he stops and turns to face you, squeezing your hand.

"Stay here," he says, letting you go. You cross your arms over your chest as you wait for him, hearing the sound of keys rattling together, sliding metal and a chain dragging along the ground. And then that's it. Besides the sound of wind in your ears and a few birds chirping, you don't hear any sign of him, and it makes you wonder if he's left you alone, standing in the middle of nowhere.

Until you feel his hand gently touching your arm, and you jolt slightly. "It's just me, Liz."

He guides you forward, making you stand in one spot, hands steadying you by your elbows. You feel him against your back for a few seconds before he's working at the knot of the blindfold.

"Just remember you promised," he said before taking it off.

You opened your eyes - to Mav's plane staring back at you.

You understood why the blindfold was necessary. You would have jumped out of his truck in an instant.

"Jake..."

"I said I would get you into a plane for our second date," he said, proud of himself. You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to do. You subconsciously stepped backwards, the words "absolutely not" escaping your lips.

You didn't get very far. Your back met Jake's chest, and he instantly had his arms around you, trapping your body against his. You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm terrified of flying, Jake."

"I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise Liz, nothing bad is going to happen to you." He has the entire nape of your neck in his hand while this other hand is rubbing down the length of your spine in a comforting manner.

You don't know where your fear of flying came from. You've never been up in a plane before, a fact you certainly wouldn't admit to Jake. You were okay with heights, hikes on mountainside cliffs and long car drives.

Maybe it was the idea of not being in control of your body or being grounded.

"Jake, I don't know about this," you admit into his shirt. He presses his lips into your hair before explaining, "I won't let anything happen to you. We're just going up for a simple flight. The wind is perfect right now. There will be no turbulence. Trust me; I'm not called the best aviator at Top Gun for nothing."

He takes his hand off your neck to lift your chin. "Please," he urged, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me share something about my life that I love."

It was then, at that moment, you realized Jake and Sadie had something very much in common.

You could never say no to either of them.

___

If anyone had told you a week ago you would be sitting in the backseat of a plane, currently taxing down to a runway, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot. Even with your nerves on fire and a strong case of nausea, you let Jake help you up and into the back seat once he pulled the plane out of the hangar with little protest.

He was so excited to share this with you. Whether it was in how he helped buckle you into the seat or when he placed the headset on your head, there was a side to him you hadn't seen before. Almost giddiness, you thought, despite every internal voice you ever had screaming at you to run for the freaking hills. Even then, you were grateful you got to see this side of him.

As Jake speaks with the control tower expertly, you dart your eyes around the cabin. While there wasn't anything in terms of controls in the backseat with you, everything still looked old. The seat felt old. The buckles of the straps tying you down looked old. Even the walls looked old.

You also felt higher than you should, staring down at the plane's wings, eyes scoring the features, the colours, and the bumps. You knew you wouldn't find anything wrong. Jake was extremely thorough in his flight check, and you knew Mav cared for this thing like it was his child. But you were still scared, even believing if Sadie could do this multiple times with Maverick, who without a doubt took her for joyrides, you could handle a simple flight with Jake.

You should have fought harder to say no. You should have fought harder to say no.

Jake turns back slightly, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "I know it might seem scary, Liz. But trust me. I got you. We'll go slow."

Jake flies in an F-18, a machine capable of much more than whatever Mav's hobby plane could do. So his definition of slow is highly relative. It makes you feel nervous, wondering what he had planned for you.

It isn't until Jake pushes the plane forward onto the runway that you realize you have to accept that this is happening. Then he's accelerating forward, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

Adrenaline floods your veins as the plane takes off, gravity attempting to pull you back down in heavy anger. You slam your eyes shut, trying to force air into your lungs. The angle seems wrong, and you have this feeling both of you will crash into something, making you turn your face into your shoulder to hide.

Even when the plane levels out and things seem okay enough, you can't open them. Your heart is in your ears, and you're trying not to hyperventilate or make a noise. You don't want to ruin this for him. Because deep down, you knew, even with all the teasing and assurances, Jake would turn the plane around for you the second he got the slightest indication you were seriously freaked out.

So, for the longest time, you keep them shut, nothing but your heartbeat in your ears and the rumble of the old engine to keep you company. Even with Jake making this ride as smooth as possible, you couldn't help but alternate between gripping the edges of the seat or hugging yourself tight.

Don't open your eyes. Don't look down. Don't open your eyes. Don't look down.

"You alright?" Jake's voice crackled through the headset. First, you nodded with a hard sallow. But then you realize Jake couldn't see you. Your voice trembled as you managed to reply with, "Yes."

He chuckled to himself, the noise warm and full of amusement. He knew. He always did when it came to you.

"Open your eyes, Liz," Jake urged gently, his voice a mix of reassurance and excitement. "I'm not going to murder you if that's what your thinking."

Despite your anxiety, a smile manages to break through at his words. Actually, they are your words from the day of the hike when you took him down that hazardous unpaved road to the thrift shop. That had been so long ago, way before anything to do with Tyler, Bradley, or even before whatever this was with him.

He had given you the benefit of the doubt then. You owed it to do the same for him now. Shuttering a deep breath, you gathered the courage to open your eyes slowly.

At first, you half expected to fixate on the view of the ground underneath the plane's wings or catch a glimpse of the shoreline or ocean. That you'd hyperventilate, witnessing perhaps an engine on fire or a piece of Mav's plane missing, flapping in the wind.

You saw none of those things.

Jake had taken the two of you further North of the airport, towards a group of mountains. You were right in the middle of them, green caps and tall peaks making you forget you were even bound to the seat of the plane.

This wasn't flying.

This felt like soaring.

Jake banked the plane around one particular mountain, a tall one at the very end of the group. It wasn't until he purposely straightened out after circling around it, did the sun fully come into view. It was already beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with various hues and shades of fiery oranges, soft pinks and yellows.

The view from the Ferris wheel at the Fair had nothing on this.

Humans weren't supposed to witness views like this. They weren't supposed to be up this high, feeling like they could touch the clouds or be this close to the sun. Or see the shine, this bright, off the peaks of mountains or even be this parallel with them.

This was only something anyone could ever dream about seeing

As the plane glided through the sky, you could feel the sun's warmth casting a gentle light on your face. You closed your eyes, not out of fear this time, but contentment, placing your hands on either side of the window and taking a deep breath.

But when you opened your eyes, your eyes began to water, and you found yourself biting your lip as you looked back toward the sun. The words spilled out of you before you knew you had said them, your voice almost sounding broken as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

"Hi, Ridely."

Because there was something about being up here, in the clouds and the surrounding mountains and feeling the sun on your face, that brought you that much closer to her. Some part of you felt guilty for refusing Mav, Nat and even Rooster, to some degree, to take you up and experience this.

She was here with you. And you had never felt more free.

"You ready?" Jake asked you. Unknown to you, he was smiling, having heard your remark. You looked at the back of his head, a grin adding to the happy tears gracing your face. "For what?"

Jake didn't give you a reply. Instead, the plane tilted, and suddenly, the world was turning on its axis. A squeal caught in your throat as you found yourself spinning upside down.

"JAKE, YOU MOTHERFU.."

But your voice caught in your throat before you could finish your sentence, Jake laughing at your reaction.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You didn't really know what to think about it, whether gravity would be pulling you out of your seat or seeing the world below would make you pass out.

The small part of you, still holding on to your fear, wanted to be mad at him. But the part of you, the one secretly enjoying the entire experience, won out.

The truth was, you couldn't help the laughter suddenly escaping your mouth. You couldn't help the smile as Jake accelerated the plane. Or when he let the nose dip ever so slightly to let it fall, you couldn't help the shout of exhilaration.

The rules of aviation or flight were beyond you as he controlled the plane through the air, nerves dying out and instead being replaced with pure joy.

You really could have cared less about being mad at him now.

The world below, and every problem in it, disappeared. And you were alright with that.

___

You didn't want to admit to yourself as Jake finally landed the plane that you never wanted that to end. Even if you should be feeling relief at being on solid ground or when he parked the plane in front of the hanger, you were high on adrenaline and sheer joy. 

You peered up at Jake's hesitant face after he helped you climb out of the plane, standing on wobbly legs. You couldn't do anything but pull him down by the back of his head and kiss him hard. He laughed into the kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your side as he spoke against your lips. "I take it your not afraid of flying anymore?"

You pull away, pressing your forehead to his chin. "Only if you are flying the plane."

It's feeding his ego, you are sure. His chest puffs out under your hands, and that cocky smirk he's known for returns, present in the kisses he's placing on your head.

"So I still have a girlfriend, then?"

You stiffen. Jake would want to put a title on this, even if it was only your 'official' second date. The both of you have done so much of this backwards, way outside the box of how 'normal' relationships were supposed to go. But in a few weeks, Jake and you went from a first date to sleeping in the same bed to him staying over for a week.

When was your and Jake's relationship ever straightforward? And as you told yourself in that bathroom at the fair, there was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

"I didn't know you had one," you say nonchalantly. Jake plays along, hands gripping your hips. 

"Oh, you didn't hear? Big Bad Hangman is suddenly enamoured with this assertive, savvy bartender at the Hard Deck. Turned him down flat on his ass the first time they met. Didn't stop him from wanting to be around her, though." 

"The shameless, cocky flirt who says the wrong thing at the wrong time, humbled by her and her sassy niece." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not to mention she's fucking hot."

You hummed, nodding your head and purposely avoiding looking at his face when he pulled back, your cheeks flaring up hard. 

"Will you look at me, Liz?"

"I can't."

Jake laughs at your reply. "You can't? Now why's that?"

"Because you're all ego right now and boastful, and you get that cocky smirk when you do," you mummer, still purposely avoiding his eyes. That cocky smirk grows even wider as Jake tugs your hips into his.

"You mean this cocky smirk?" he teases, pressing his nose to yours, maintaining his smile. You're fighting with yourself not to smile, but it's a battle you've already lost. Jake nuzzles his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still grinning. And then another to your cheek, just below your eye, before he's littering your face with them, and you laugh as you try to escape him.

"But if you really want to know," he says after you give in, smiling at him as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. "I think you were mine the second you gave me that clean slate in your kitchen."

 "I was yours?" you press playfully, quirking an eyebrow. Jake pauses for a second, making a show of having to think about his answer. Till his face lights up in recognition, and he says," Oh wait."

He makes a show of standing straighter, dropping his voice lower and making his southern accent purposely thicker. "You've bewitched me body and soul since that night in your kitchen."

"Oh," you laugh wholeheartedly, knowing precisely what he's doing. "You're not trying to, Mr. Darcy, this!?"

He frowns. "I thought you liked Pride and Prejudice."

You grin at him, your hands working through his hair before you kiss his lips, pulling back slightly to mummer against his mouth. "That was before I had a decorated hotshot Navy fighter pilot sleeping in my bed."

Jake growls, and you giggle as he bends you backwards, kissing you again.

Stowing away Mav's plane didn't take very long. The two of you were on the road with daylight still out and Jake telling you the night was far from over. He took you to your favourite takeout place before driving to an Outlook, telling you he'd like to come here to think things through.

You know he intends for the both of you to sit on the flatbed of his truck when he backs it into the parking spot, purposely making it face out towards the water. He presses a button before the two of you get out, making the back cover come off. 

But Sadie's involvement in conspiring to get you into the backseat of Mav's plane clearly didn't end with the blindfold. Because the second two of you walk around and Jake drops the tailgate, Sadie's handiwork glares back at you.

You don't know where to look first. Your air mattress sits in the flatbed with a spare mattress cover. A few pairs of blankets are covering it, and you know she would have needed help to get the two spare pillows sitting at the back, the ones you kept on the top shelf of your linen closet.

Of course, Jake could have managed this all on his own. But the dead giveaway was the lights. It only could have been Sadie who had taken the battery-operated string lights you had on the bookcase in your family room and strung them to the sides of his truck, the electrical tape you knew had been Jake's idea.

When you get over your shock, you turn to Jake, absolutely speechless that he let her do all this. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "What? I have to give her credit. Bug's creative."

He set the bag of food down before placing his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the tailgate. "Get yourself comfy, darlin'."

You didn't move. For the sole fact you were wearing a knee-high dress, and if you turned to climb on top of the mattress, he'd get a pretty nice view of your ass. He shot you a look once he hopped up, and you shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You can go first."

He chuckled knowingly. "Nothing I ain't going to see eventually."

It was nice to know Jake's ability to make you bush hadn't waned after recent events.

The two of you settled up against the pillows, takeout containers in both of your laps as you ate, talking about Sadie and what it might look like for her when he had to return to school next week. Then his phone rang. You spied the face-time ID as Jake reached for it on the blanket in front of him.

Janet.

He looked guilty as he asked, "Do you mind if?"

You shook your head, smiling around the fork in your mouth before managing, "Of course not."

Jake handed you his takeout container, bringing his phone up to answer the call. But instead of his sister's face, he was greeted by the sight of a baby in a blue cap.

"Surprise!" Janet's tired voice rang out through the speaker. "Meet your nephew!"

Jake's eyes glazed over the second he stared down at his phone. His hand holding his phone slightly shook, and he reached out to grip the edge of his truck with a thump. You couldn't help yourself when you dropped the takeout containers onto the blanket in front of you and peered up over his shoulder.

"Oh my god, he's adorable."

Suddenly, the camera flipped on his phone, and Jake's sister was staring back at both of you.

Even in a hospital gown, her exhaustion evident, it was clear Janet was Jake's sister. Her hair was the same colour, her eyes the same shade of green. Her mouth was the same shape, and you were sure if she smiled, you would undoubtedly see Jake's same smile beaming back at you.

"Shit, he wasn't kidding when he said you were gorgeous."

You ducked, hiding your face behind Jake's shoulder, heat rising in your cheeks. Whether it was the quickness of your escape or Janet's revealing words, Jake seemed to snap out of his daze.

"Janet!"

"Hey, I gotta embarrass you where I can. Call it payback for all the times you shared my dirty little secrets with Ian."

"Those weren't secrets, Jan. He needed to know what he was getting himself into."

"Bless his heart for it too."

You shook your head, chuckling into the back of Jake's shirt at their banter. Jake looks over his shoulder at you, slightly amused.

"Come out, Liz," Janet called out from the phone. "I don't bite."

"Much," Jake grumbled.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined meeting his sister, one of the few people he actually considered his family. Slowly lifting your head from behind Jake's frame, you managed a hesitant smile, gripping him for dear life. "Congratulations, Janet."

She smiled at you, replying, "Twelve hours of labour, but it was so worth it."

"What did you name him?" you asked, unable to contain the joy in your voice.

"E.J.," she said, looking down at the bundle in her arms before returning to look at the screen, clarifying, "Elijah-Jacob."

Jake drew in a sharp breath, and Janet didn't hesitate when she cried out, "As if I would name him anything else, you idiot."

Resting your chin on Jake's shoulder, you peered up at the side of his face with an affectionate smile. "Your full name's Jacob?"

But he didn't answer you, instead asking his sister, "Now, why on earth would you do something as stupid as that?"

Janet shot him a disappointed look before her eyes tracked over to you. "Liz, will you help me out here?" she said, tilting her head toward Jake.

"Glady," you replied, tapping the back of his head. Jolting under your chin, Jake faced you, slightly shocked. But you only shot him a disapproving glare.

"You're my baby brother. You risk your f-ing life day in and day out every single time you go up in that jet of yours or go out on deployments to make sure everyone else can sleep safely at night. And when you are home? I won't even start on all the shit you stand up against, not with Liz here."

Janet lets out a huge sigh before exclaiming, "So don't question my judgment or my choice. There was no way I was going to name him anything else. Suck it up."

Jake could only shake his head in disbelief, a humbling smile growing with each passing second.

"Now, hand me over to Liz. I wanna talk to her properly."

This is so backwards, you think, as Jake passes his phone over to you with a knowing smile. You are suddenly filled with nervousness you are not used to. This was the one person you knew Jake sought approval from. Everything was riding on this one interaction.

But your nerves settle instantly when she grins at you and casually mentions, "So, he managed to get you up in that death trap."

"It seems everyone knew about this little plan but me, even my niece, dead centre in the middle of it."

Janet grins at the mention of Sadie. "From what Jake has told me about her, she's a girl after my own heart."

"Sassy? Opinionated? Knows how to get her way?"

"Something more like being an insect, but I can see where the similarities lie."

You chuckle softly, feeling Jake rub your side, before you say, "You remind me of her."

"I'd love to meet her one day. And you in person. "

"I'd like that. I'm sure she'd love you."

Jake shook his head violently, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. "My nephew will get all sorts of horrible ideas if he meets Sadie. Don't start him that young!"

You gasp at him. "Are you saying my niece is a troublemaker, Jake Seresin?"

"You know she is."

You shake your head, bumping him with your shoulder.

"Please get my number from my little brother over here. I want somebody to send cute baby pics to," Janet pouts.

"Could you send me embarrassing stories?" you wiggle your eyebrows. Janet smirks, a playful look in her tired eyes. "Oh, you want them. I'll give them to you, no problem."

 Oh boy, did you like her.

"Nope." Jake tries to reach for his phone, but you are quicker, laughing at his attempts as you stretch your hand out of his reach. "You have a ten-year-old in the palm of your hand who has an honesty problem and years of embarrassing stories about me. Let me have my chance!"

"In comparison? Nope. Not even close. Give me my phone." Jake holds out the palm of his hand. And then you get an idea, shooting him a playful stare as you extend your hand farther.

"Come and get it, Cowboy."

Suddenly, Jake lurches forward, almost toppling you over. Jake's efforts to retrieve his phone only cause you to break out in a fit of giggles, your stomach cramping so much you fall over into the air mattress, Jake landing on top of you. Your grip on his phone is still tight.

"If my sister wasn't on the other end..." There is no threat in his words. Jake's smiling with you as you continue to laugh, trying to pry the device out of your hand. Janet's shout through her own laughter interrupts the two of you. "Keep it pg, you two! Literal newborn ears over here!"

Jake manages to swipe his phone back when you laugh even harder at her words. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his as you try to fit yourself into the view of his phone screen when the two of you settle.

Janet looks up at something in her room and frowns. "I gotta go. The nurse will come back any minute and yell at me, I swear."

The both of you say your goodbyes, Janet explaining more than once she was happy Jake found you. But just before he went to end the call, Janet called out his name. 

"Watch out for a package from Texas coming up there."

Jake's smile flees at Janet's words, slowly dissolving into a sombre expression. His body tenses under your touch, and you see the second his eyes darken with a deep-seated seriousness. It's a side to Jake you've only truly ever seen once before - when he found you handcuffed on the floor of the Hard Deck.

Growing up, you and Ridley had all sorts of codewords and phrases for different things. Those were the unfortunate circumstances you had to live with as a kid. So you knew right away Janet didn't mean an actual package. Whatever it was, Jake was clearly not happy about it. It was making you deeply concerned. 

Jake reaches for your thigh, grip tightening when he replies, "Yeah, okay."

He hangs up. And doesn't mention anything else about it.

__

After finishing your dinner in silence, you sat next to Jake, staring out at the horizon. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tight to his side. At some point, you had placed both of your legs over his lap, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

It was still light out when Jake and you left the tiny airport, and the sky was now turning dark, leaving the small parking lot of Jake's outlook out secluded, the two of you alone and in utter peace. His fingers were absentmindedly stroking your skin as you both took in the last few minutes of the sunset.

"You okay?" you asked him, kissing his shoulder before looking back over the water, suddenly aware of Jake's hand slowly getting closer to the inside of your thigh. He kissed your cheek, replying, "Never better."

You don't buy it.

"You're an uncle now," you wondered aloud. Jake shrugged. "I already was one."

"But it's different. Sadie is..."

"Sadie counts." He quickly corrected you, kissing your forehead before looking back to the water. "She'll always count."

It warms you, his level of affection for her, but you cannot help but detect a sense of finality in his tone. Reaching up, you cradled the side of his jaw, turning his head back to you so you could lean up and kiss him.

Jake presses his lips to yours softly before pulling back to look at you. There's something in his eyes you cannot name.

Then his lips are back on yours, this time steady and encompassing, parting your lips with his tongue. Your grip on his face tightens as you suddenly find yourself being tilted backwards, sliding down the pillows until Jake is half on top of you. Your head is pillowed on his bicep as he kisses you, your hand still cradling his jaw. 

He then goes for your neck in a desperate breath, open-mouth kisses, sucking harder and harder. You're used to this. The two times Jake had you pinned up against him, he had marked up the side of your neck. But his hand, not trapped under your head, is wandering. Groping at your breast, sliding down your stomach to the outside of your thigh, testing his grip. 

He hikes your outside leg up, fingers brushing the sensitive part inside your thigh.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into your ear. You hummed your reply, nodding once. But Jake grazed his nose along your jawbone lightly, fingers delicately sliding up and down the inside of your thigh.

"Words, Elizabeth."

Damn him and his accent, saying your full name.

"Yes," you gasped out, wanting him. "It's absolutely okay."

"My good girl," he says before diving back to your mouth. You know he's teasing you as he strokes your skin, making you quiver with anticipation of what is to come. But then he's reaching for the helm of your dress, lifting and folding it over your stomach, as he releases your lips in a harsh pant. 

The question is there in his eyes as he looks down at you, fingers resting just on the helm of your underwear. You swallow, opening your legs wide. Jake's eyes glaze over, and his arm flexes under your head. You're giving him this—this first experience of letting someone be with you. 

He doesn't hesitate when he starts dragging them down. You eagerly lift your hips to help him take them off. Once he gets them past your ankles, he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Jake hisses when he takes you in, so spread out for him. "Can I touch, darlin'? Can I touch what is mine?" 

Fucking hell, Jake. Do you have a consent kink?!

"I'm yours," you gasp into the night air. "Please, Jake, Please."

Jake rests half on top of you, swallowing your whimper as he finally reaches and presses down on your clit, slow, gentle circles that have you closing your legs and sharp breaths racking your chest. Your hand shoots out and grips his wrist, feeling his muscles contract under your hand.  

"Keep them open, Liz," he warns, shifting down slightly so he can turn you and press you back against his chest. Jake slots his leg between yours, expertly thrusting his knee so your leg hooks up over his, never stopping in his efforts.

He rubs at you with ease, carefully watching how each movement makes you react before he switches to his thumb, and a single-finger probes at your entrance. You thrust your hips back into him, a strangled noise crawling out of your throat, and Jake uses it as an opportunity to push his finger inside. 

"That sound, " He breathes against your cheek. "You're driving me goddamn insane."

You used to worry back in university that you'd feel trapped if you ever found someone you trusted enough to do with this. But even with Jake poised at your back, working between your legs, you did not feel as if you weren't in control. Your body is open to the air, and Jake is only holding you down by his hand and the weight of his words. 

You feel safe. 

He adds another finger, curling them inside you, searching for something when you let out a sharp whine. It burns. The stretch. The sensations that were spreading across your groin. 

You felt full with Jake's finger's inside you, squelching sounds accompanying each time pumped them in and out of you.  "You're so tight," he moaned into your neck. "I won't have you here, but fuck Liz, the day I can have you gripping my cock." 

You bury your squeal into the flesh of his arm, your arm not currently gripping Jake's wrist, whipping out to find the side of his truck, making a string of lights fall. 

Not slow. This is not slow. 

"Knowing I'm your first." He bites the soft skin behind your ear. "That your mine." 

Your cry is muffled into this arm, and Jake glides his nose up the back of your neck to your ear. "Don't look away, Liz," he soothes. "Let me see your face."

It's the last thing you want him to see, ironically. The faces you make aren't pretty, and your eyes are slammed shut. And you were sure if you did open your eyes, you'd explode at the slight; you spread out so shamelessly open to the sky. Jake's hand between your legs, working you higher and higher off an unknown edge from the flatbed of his truck. 

But you do manage to turn your head back, Jake immediately catching your mouth with his in a desperate kiss. When he lets your mouth go, you whine out with a pant, "Fuck Jake, I can't." 

"Yes, yes, you can." Your words must have encouraged him because suddenly, his thumb is circling faster, and his fingers are pressing harder, working that spot inside you. Your eyes are screwed shut, tears seeping through as the ball in your abdomen grows tighter and tighter, nails biting into his wrist. 

"Are you going to let go for me, darlin'," he gasps into your open mouth, hovering above you. You wanted to, desperately. "Will you let me have it? 

You drop your head to his arm, the feeling too much to bear. You are on the edge of something, fire radiating from your core and making your thighs shake. Jake pants into your ear, once, twice before he moans, "Will you cum for me?"

His thumb swipes over your clit as he presses hard on that spot inside you. You keen, lights exploding behind your eyes as you arch your hips towards his hand, legs trembling as you clench around Jake's fingers. The cool breeze from the sea or the cool air from the night sky does nothing to the heat flooding your veins.

He's there. Turning your head back, catching your cries into his mouth, and taking the bruises you're pressing into his arm without flinching. In fact, he's smiling ever so slightly, watching you come apart underneath him.

You weakly turn in his hold, whimpering and trying to bury yourself into his chest as every emotion hits you at once. Jake pulls his fingers from you as you do, and you feel embarrassed at the wetness coating your thighs. Gripping the back of your leg, he rolls, taking you with him. Your body crashes limply onto his chest, and the one leg he's holding straddles his waist.

Your trembling, gripping his shirt to ground yourself and will strength back into your body.  There's a hyper-awareness you are not used to dancing across your skin - allowing you to feel the fabric of the blanket underneath you, the chill in the air, Jake's warmth, your release cooling on your thighs and covering his fingers, grasping your bare leg.

Any rational thought has gone out the window. Except for the fact you know Jake could not have gotten off from that.

He's hard against the inside of your thigh, through the denim of his jeans, the rough fabric creating friction against your clit as you rock lightly to the pulses aching in your core. He's groaning with each press, fighting with himself not to cant his hips up into you.

Even as you continue to whimper your aftershocks into his neck, you find yourself trailing your hand down his chest and to his stomach, fingers barely slipping under the waistband of his jeans, just reaching the first few strains of hair.

But Jake grunts, pulling your hand away and shaking his head. He brings it up to his mouth, kissing the palm before stating, "It's not about me right now."

"Jake..."

He doesn't give in to the soft pleading of this name. Instead, he grips the roots of your hair at the base of your skull, ensuring there isn't an inch of space between you as he pulls you close. His other hand is gripping the bare skin of your ass, keeping your dress up around your hips and lower half exposed to the cool air.

This time, you do feel trapped.

He's holding you like you'd be carried off by the breeze, ready to disappear at any second. As if faced with another deployment, off to fight a war with the fear of never making it back. The switch in him is so sudden that the aftershocks of your recent orgasm are reduced to cooling embers, and it only adds to your unease when Jake gasps through a sharp breath, "Just let me hold you and forget about everything else."

The concern you felt for him earlier returns with a vengeance.

Jake's anxious about something, and he's not telling you why. Suddenly, the chill in the air is too cold, the blanket is too rough, and Jake's fingers and the insides of your thighs are chalky, rubbing against your skin.

You focus on breathing instead, trying to calm your rapid heart. You weren't going to hold whatever this was against him.

Because despite not knowing what to think about having your real first sexual experience in the flatbed of Jake's truck, you today were the happiest you had felt in a while, even with literal hell overtaking your life. 

But listening to Jake's heartbeat pound under your ear, the paranoia you've ignored so many times before makes a home in your chest, and the allusion that was today dissipates, and everything comes rushing back. Tyler. Bradley. And now, whatever Janet warned Jake about that was making him act this way.

It was all a possibility again.

You couldn't help but feel this silver of happiness wouldn't last that much longer.

Tag List:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy

Part 15: Have you ever seen the rain? Coming soon

Wickett ;)

#horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #jake seresin fanfiction #controlled chaos squad #hangman x oc #damn those dog tags #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #hangman smut #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun smut #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman #top gun hangman #hangman fluff #hangman seresin #top gun fandom #call sign lucky #Spotify

[hughungrybear]

Me watching Only Friends Ep 7:

1. I still think Mew is a sh*tty friend for letting Ray leave when he is highly emotional, high (from drugs) and drunk just to deliver a perfect revelation to Top. That's effed up.

2. Well, look at Sand gaslighting Ray. C'mon, dude. You are at fault too. You know Ray is vulnerable but that didn't stop you from using him to get even with Top. This is the first time I'm feeling annoyed with First's character.

3. <after a minute> Oops, I take that back. Sand apologised and acknowledged his part in Ray's accident. I'm all good now. 😊

4. Oh, wow. Ray's dad IS an a**hole. Maybe he is the reason why Ray's mum drunk herself to death.

5. Oh, Cheum. You naivé little thing. This is what happens when we are too ready to believe in happy-ever-afters.

6. Ooh, Mew the psycho is coming. Can't hardly wait.

7. Oh-oh. Boston figured it out. Nick, you should have created a backup plan for this scenario during your free time instead of wasting your time thinking of how you can get Boston to commit to you.

8. Oh, Nick. You poor, lost sod. This isn't a surprise. Boston has told you time and again that he will not commit. Why did you think you will be different?

9. I got distracted by the quote on Mew's red shirt. "Friends don't let friends go. To Stanfund". What? 😅

10. Well, well, well. I have to admit, Top nearly had me on the first half of his apology. And then he goes on to say that he doesn't care if Mew and Ray f*cked, he just wants a second chance. Boy, if you really don't care, you shouldn't have mentioned it. You were so close to looking sincere 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

11. Mew, I understand the sentiment. But don't go burning your apartment in the process 😅😅😅

12. Puppy dog eyes-Ray is back. 😅😅😅 Sand, you really are in trouble. 😂

13. Addicts always are in denial, Ray. You really should consider getting some help. Also, "chill out and talk about life's problems" is so freaking hilarious and depressing at the same time.

14. Oh, shut up, Mew. You also caused Ray's accident.

15. No, Ray. Stop. Go back to Sand.

16. Boston being Boston. No sincere apologies - just plain a**holery. He did deserved that kick.

17. Let's face it - Nick, Sand did you a favour. There is no redeeming Boston. He will never love anyone but himself. No great loss there.

18. Wait, is there a possible Mew/Nick collab? But Nick is still balls-deep in love with Boston. I don't think he will be up for a true revenge against Boston.

19. So, that's why we had Drake in the first episode? Niiice. Mew, what are you up to? 😳😳😳 Oh, I thought we are going to have some revenge s*x lololol nvm, just stealing Boston's vid.

20. It's official. Psycho Mew finally unleashed.

21. The audacity of Boston to beg Mew not to release his s*x video for the sake of "friendship". Ngl, I laughed. 😂

22. Look out, Cheum. Your friend group's personal issue (Top) is here. 😅😅😅 Also, Cheum spraying water to stop the fighting is 🤌

23. No. Just no. Ray, just stop it. Mew stay the fvck away from Ray. Stop making decisions when you're all emotional/pissed off. That's not gonna end well.

Well, gods damned. Looks like Mew will use Ray as a rebound. Ray will still continue on his destructive path and will drag Sand with him. Also, a possible new love for Nick? Oh, I hope so.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #topmew #sandray #bostonnick #forcebook #firstkhao #neomark #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #neo trai #mark pakin #only friends ep 7

[luveline]

i love your writing so much! could you maybe do remus comforting you after you failed a test that he helped you study for :,)

thank you for your request im sorry this took an enitre momth! <3

“I feel so guilty,” you confess quietly, your head against Remus’ chest, his hair tickling your ear where he’s leaning against you.

The arm he has wrapped around you tenses. 

“What for? For not passing?” He’s too kind to say failed.

“You helped me study and I still couldn’t do it.”

Remus has already wiped away the frazzled, surprised tears when you found out that you failed, has already reassured you and calmed you down, but the guilt is eating you up. Guilt that he wasted his time helping you and wasted it again making you feel better. 

“It’s not some moral failing that you couldn’t do it, dove. You just have to try again.”

“No, I know, but you wasted your time going through all those stupid flashcards with me.”

“The flashcards weren’t stupid. And wasted? Time with you is never wasted,” he says. 

You sulk. He watches. You can feel his gaze and are only mildly surprised when his lips touch your cheek. He kisses you, lightly and sweetly, fast little pecks into the same spot. “You’re brilliant,” he says, followed by more and more kissing. 

His hand rubs over the back of your neck and the side, tilting your head up so he can spread kisses like wild daisies across a field, affection blooming over and down your face, one last flower pressed to your jaw. 

“You feel guilty?” You nod. Remus rubs his nose into your face and then pulls away. “My darling-“ your heart soars, “I don’t mind that you failed. I’m upset for you, of course, but I’m not angry.”

“I didn’t think you were,” you mumbled, dropping your head back against his arm with a sigh, neck arched and face to the ceiling. You blow a raspberry. 

“Here, give me a kiss.”

“I don’t want kisses.”

Remus snorts. “Alright then, don’t give me one. Break my heart, why don’t you.”

“We did those cards for hours.”

“We did. You worked very hard.”

You roll your eyes at him. He sees it, spluttering, his arm pulled quickly from under your head to pinch at your sides. You yowl like a cat and throw yourself on your side, away from his tickling fingers. 

“You did work hard!” 

“Let me apologise for wasting your time!”

Remus sighs and leans over you, his hand between your thighs, holding himself up. “Alright, apologise. Let’s hear it.”

You frown. “I’m sorry that I failed after you spent so long helping me revise.”

Remus grins at you, his brown eyes full of a mischief that you usually love but currently hate, his pretty pout already parting before he says, “Thank you for your apology. But I can’t accept it, it wouldn’t be right.”

“Remus…”

“Do you want,” he says slowly, the words all dragged out and playful, “a kiss? Say yes. Please, dovey.”

“You shouldn’t beg.”

“I’ll always beg if it’s at your feet.”

“Ych.” You throw your hands over your face. “I’m sorry, I know I’m still going on and on about this stupid test. I didn’t expect to feel so awful.”

Remus leans sideways heavily into your torso, his elbow pushed into your ribs as his hand searches for your face. He tugs your wrists down, looking slightly more serious than he had. “I liked doing those flashcards with you.”

“Yeah?” you ask miserably. 

“Yeah. I like the face you make when you get one right. You try to hide it, but you look so happy.” He smiles, his teeth peeking from under his lip. He has pointy canine teeth. They’re adorable. “And I like it even more when you get one wrong, I know it’s evil, but you’re so pretty when you get frustrated. Your eyes go all dark.”

“That’s good, ‘cos I got most of them wrong.”

“You got better. The more we did the more you improved. We’ll do it again for your retake.” He says everything with finality. 

You finally give the poor sod his kiss, a quick press of the lips that makes you want another. The second is slower but chaste, his hand tentative against the column of your throat, holding you in place as he smiles into your mouth. 

“What?” you ask, his grin contagious. 

“Nothing. Just thinking about your angry face. Wanna start revising now?” he asks cheekily. 

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader

[another-blog-about-miis]

Prt 2? (Sorry I'm really invested XD)

Sam tells Kyle and maybe apologizes to cm?

Hey I hope it's cool if I only write for this one, because I've been thinking about this since before you asked for Part 1.

Sam sods as she runs away from Eteled into the darker parts of the Mii channel, Eteled calls out for her to come back.

She stops running and leans against a wall, then slides down that wall and sits down. Sam just stares at the floor feeling numb.

a little later...

CM walks down the hall and sees Sam, a wicked smile forms on his face as he gets an idea. He walks up to her and crouches down, his hand holds her face up. Sam gasps.

"Well hello there Sam, what are you doing here all alone?"

He stands up and lifts Sam up by her turtleneck dress.

"P-PUT ME DOWN!"

"How about no! I have something electrifying planned for you~"

Her eyes widen as the reality of what's going to happen to her sets in.

Sam squirms around trying to get out of CM's grip, but it's no use! CM starts walking to the hallway.

"DAD! KYLE! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"You can scream all you want, but nobody is coming to save you now!"

The two enter the hallway, Sam gets more desperate by the second. She tries to pull CM's claws off of her with no luck.

"Just except your fate, it'll be over soon."

They enter the room with the electric chair, Sam starts to cry from the sight of it. CM puts her in the chair and straps her down, he puts the headphones on.

"Awww, you're getting yourself all worked up! The pain hasn't even begin yet!"

"PLEASE DON'T, I-I'M SORRY FOR WHAT MY DAD DID TO YOU! I'M SO SORRY!"

"I'm surprised you know. I thought that bald fuck was never gonna tell you. To bad for you though, I'm not going to stop, how do I know you're not just saying that so I won't hurt you!"

CM turns the nob turning the electric chair on, Sam starts screaming on the top of her lungs as the electricity courses through her body.

CM starts laughing as tears roll down Sam's face.

"That's what you get for being related to that murderer!"

The screams can be heard from down the hall into the entrance of the Mii channel.

Suddenly an axe hits the wall barley missing CM.

"TURN THAT FUCKING MACHINE OFF YOU SON OF A GOAT!"

Eteled runs into the room and turns the nob down. He then pulls his axe out of the wall.

Sam passes out from the pain.

"Well hello Henry!"

"Leave my daughter alone Austin! They didn't do anything!"

CM rolls their eyes.

"Well you're a bit too late Henry! I already electrocuted them for a good while!" CM leaves the room "I already had my fun!"

Eteled drops his axe and walks towards Sam. He takes the straps off and picks her up.

"Sam... I'm so sorry sweetie!"

Eteled walks out of the hallway and back to the Mii Channel, he lays Sam on the bed. He strokes her hair.

Hours later...

Sam slowly opens her eyes and sees Eteled, she remembers getting electrocuted and sits up on the bed shocked.

"Woow! Sam lay back down, you're hurt!" Eteled pushes her back down. "I'm so sorry Sam, it's all my fault!"

"No I'm sorry dad! I was the one who ran off, I don't even remember why I ran off!"

Eteled's eyes widen when he heard that, he thinks to himself if it's a good idea to tell her the reason why she ran off.

"She'll probable just run off and get hurt again" Eteled thinks to themself. "A little white lie doesn't hurt anyone right?" He smiles with this thought.

"It's okay Sam, I forgive you just don't do it again okay!"

Eteled hugs Sam tightly.

"I promise! I won't even leave your side!"

#wii deleted you #wdy #wii deleted you sam #wdy sam #wii deleted you eteled #wii deleted you corrupted mii #fanfic

[wrongdodo]

Pairing: M!Whitney x F!Reader (no reader pronouns)

Genre: Smut 18+

Warnings: NonCon, humiliation

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Been reading lots of enjoyable DOL fanfics and ya'll got me INSPIRED. Big love to all the writers out there. I enjoyed using lots of Bri'ish slang in this - the word "lairy" is criminally underused.

Whitney doesn’t give a fuck about you.

So why do you do it to yourself? Maybe some part of you thought the next day might be different, that maybe he’d notice you.

Everyday like clockwork, as English class ended and lunch began, you abandoned your friends and your sense of reason, feet and heart skipping to the roof, just to catch a glimpse of him.

Rain or shine, hail or snow. What would he be doing today? Tormenting some poor sod and threatening to shove them off the building? Or smoking with his lairy mates, hurling colourful language at anyone thick-as-pig-shit enough to get in their way?

Whatever the agenda, you were just happy to see him. Whitney, doing his thing. Oozing easy confidence; menacing and captivating all at once. Staff despised him, peers idolised him, and losers feared him. Because when Whitney was around, all eyes were on him – it was the only way of possibly anticipating what he might do next.

Today, he and his mates swung easily against the railings, beautifully silhouetted against the dingy, grey sky. Cigarette dangling aimlessly from between his lips, rolled-up sleeves and defiant grin. Whitney was stupidly gorgeous, and horrible to everybody.

You couldn’t hear their conversation from where you’d settled yourself against the side of the building, but that’s okay.  You just liked to watch.

Besides, it somehow felt safest to keep him in your peripheral.

So you watch. Whitney seemed in a good mood today, and for some dumb-bitch reason, that contented you too. There’s an occasional bark of laughter, or yelled expletive. You couldn’t help but wonder what made him to act the way he does; cocky, abrasive, and lashing out at the world.

You watch him grapple one of his mates in a headlock, and wonder what it might be like to be part of his circle, orbiting Whitney like a moth. They’re so lucky to get to appreciate him up close.

You aren’t aware you’ve been staring until another friend leans close to Whitney, and they share a hushed exchange. Then, their eyes are on you.

Fuck.

And they stare back, as if working you out. For a second you feel flimsy, like a gust of wind might carry you away – rattling you off the roof like dead leaves. More hushed words, then a snort of laughter. Whitney’s gaze chisels a hole through you and into the brickwork behind. They’re approaching you now, and your legs chatter.

“Enjoying the view, slut?”

Whitney feels dangerous up close; lithe and animal-like. He moves too casually, eyeing you from a few feet away. You pray that he’ll stay there.

But he’s on you, closing the gap in seconds; grabbing fistfuls of jacket and shoving you hard against bricks. There’s no time to flinch.

“Fucking nosey bitch, aren’t you?”

Whitney’s sneering face is inches from yours as he exhales smoke, making you cough pitifully. A wicked smile spreads on his lips.

But this is what you dreamed of, right? Being noticed?

One hand grips your jaw roughly, squeezing the plush of your cheeks against molars and manhandling your face side-to-side as Whitney takes a long, hard look at you. By now, his mates have fallen into formation, looming at his flanks.

He jabs his fingers into your mouth, parting your teeth like he’s inspecting you for something. You fucking hate that, even now, you’re thinking he looks dreamy up close.

“Don’t be shy now…”

Whitney taunts you. If you have anything to say, it’s not like you could make yourself heard between his probing, violating fingers anyway. Plucking the cigarette from his lips, Whitney’s eyes bore into you as he extinguishes it on the sleeve of your jacket, then flicks it rudely at the ground. Dragging his fingers from your mouth, he wipes them slickly down your cheek, slapping you hard as he grins.

“… You wanted my attention, right?”

Swallowing hard, you will yourself to say something. Fucking anything. Your dumb little mouth feels all dried out.

“I… I wasn’t…” you stammer – and even you can agree it’s pathetic.

“You’re a fucking liar,” comes Whitney’s instant retort, and he’s sure of his assessment. He glances to his accomplices on either side, his grin almost incredulous, as if to say can you believe this stupid slut?

And then he grips your hips, slamming you back against the wall once more for good measure, making you yelp. Now he’s shoving your shirt up, up under your armpits to expose tits, and it’s impossible to know whether your knees are weak with some feral longing or total shame.

Whitney’s hands are all over you now – one roughly tugging your hair while another pushes your bottoms down around your knees before instantly snapping to the surface of your cunt like a sinister magnet.

“Is this enough attention for you, slut?” he mocks against your ear, fingers rudely bullying their way into your slit, and he’s about to discover you’re more fucking wet that you probably should be.

He chuckles darkly, invading your wet hole with venomous strokes. He’s thumbing your clit like it’s too fucking easy, making your legs fold and crease and leaving you writhing against the wall with ragged breath. You close your eyes.

“… What a pathetic cunt… fucking gagging for it…”

“… Fuck the lying slut, Whitney…”

You hope he does.

The feeling of approaching orgasm already twists in your gut, and you know when you cum – if you cum – it’ll be incidental, or just because he fucking can.

Slickened fingers abandon your needy core and grip your face painfully, digging in. His belt rattles. There’s the sound of a wrapper. When you open your eyes, Whitney glares right back with malice.

“This is what happens to nosey fucking sluts,” he spits.

Tugging one of your legs against his hip, Whitney enters you abruptly and uncarefully, crushing into your asinine cunt and ripping a breathy moan from your lips.

He thrusts like he’s fucking you into the brickwork. You cling to any bit of him you can - desperate for any form of stability as you bury your head against him. But Whitney’s not having it - he tips your face upwards to meet his cold, smug gaze, because you will fucking look at him while he does this to you. How else you gonna learn?

It’s a shame his thick cock nudges your g-spot with every thrust, because you feel the familiar sparks of orgasm begin to crackle into life. And the pathetic, choked little whimpers you’re making are annoying even you.

He’s fucking battering you, fingers tangled close to your scalp making your eyes water. Sensation cruelly builds and flourishes in your gut; tingling and pooling around your clit because his fat cock feels so fucking unbearably good.

Whitney’s assault feels endless, yet it’s over far too quickly – way, way too quickly, robbing you of any chance to tip over into your own climax because he’s a fucking hateful bastard. He presses into you as he cums, filling the condom with seed; his breath hot, wet and surprisingly uneven for a moment against your ear.

And when he withdraws from you completely, he leaves you empty; scraping down against the wall into a dumb, exhausted little heap. A fucking used slut. You pant, legs still quivvering a little as your ass meets the ground with a thud.

Apparently, it’s hilarious too, because as Whitney fixes his trousers, his mates heckle and joke and slap him on the back in some kind of celebration. They’re just noisy shapes looming above you now.

“… Look at the fucking state!”

“…You fucking showed that daft bitch, Whitney!”

You tune out their banter, letting your chin drop to your chest. Until a figure crouches beside you, tilting your face to meet his blue eyes behind a messy blonde fringe for a final time.

“Stay the fuck away from me unless I tell you otherwise, slut.” Whitney sneers. He empties the used condom into his outstretched hand, letting the fluid pool on his palm before wiping it down your face with a vile smirk.

He stands and lopes towards the stairwell, lighting a fresh cigarette without giving you a second glance.

Whitney doesn’t give a fuck about you.

#whitney the bully #dol whitney #dol #dol fanfic #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #whitney x reader #i lack confidence in my writing lol #degrees of lewdity

[tegu-the-tegu]

Would you become a random pokemon in the mystery dungeon setting, if given the opportunity? Like the player characters in the series?

Because yeah, being turned into a pokemon sounds pretty fun, and NO ONE is having an objectively bad time in the setting, but when you are saying "yes, obviously!" You are thinking of being a lucario, or a grovyle or something, but that's not gonna be the case, most likely.

I get it, you can do pokemon moves, you can have a life of exploration and adventure, you can make new and interesting friends, you can live in a world that has none of the flaws of our own, where everyone (for the most part) is kindhearted and happy! But there is one VERY important thing you're forgetting: not all pokemon have opposable thumbs. In fact, most don't.

Not just thumbs, too! Quite a few don't have arms, or legs, or other objectively useful body parts! Sure, some of us would be lucky enough to have telekinetic abilities, or some kind of dextrous extremity with which to manipulate the world around us, but how are you meant to tie a knot, or write a letter when you roll pineco?

What I'm saying is, for every one of us who lucks out and gets a blaziken, there's got to be another poor soul who has to get used to navigating life as a wailord.

And even if you DO luck out and get a species with hands, feet, and the like, you think you're gonna be able to adjust to hariyama's built-in oven mitts? Or gallade's blade arms? Or excadrill's drill claws? You're gonna take out somebody's eye with those things!

And that's before you even get into the poor metapods. Because that's right! A small chunk of us are going to get stuck with a shape that doesn't actually have built-in locomotion options!

Then you have pokemon that come pre-built with awful ailments. Psyduck has chronic migraines, komala is in a permanent coma, I'm pretty sure the galar fossils are biologically incapable of surviving, and are closer to sins against nature than actual pokemon. I'm pretty sure a couple can't see, which is definitely less than ideal for exploring a new world.

And your move pools! Imagine being a beldum and thinking "ok, if I manage to get to metagross, I'm looking at psychic powers and pseudo legend statlines- but wait! Good bloody luck getting to level 45 when your level up move pool consists exclusively of ramming your face into the target. Every hit you land, 50% of that damage is coming right back to you. Then you have folks who roll pyukumuku, with zero direct damage options, or wobbuffet, which I'm pretty sure is biologically closer to a punching bag than a living creature.

And that's assuming evolving is even an OPTION! Mystery dungeon has a bad habit of not allowing you to change to a less scuffed form until you've beaten at LEAST three demigods in a fistfight, and I doubt the poor sod who is stuck in the body of a severely concussed beldum is up for the task.

This is all to say, if I woke up one day and found I'd traded my human body for a mildly weaponized pancake like stunfisk, arceus better find SOMEONE to pray to because, as soon as I figure out how to flop my way over there, he's gonna have to meet me outside for a few minutes. Come to think of it, is that why stunfisk learns revenge by level up? Probably.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still taking the deal, but I'm gonna be making it my life's mission to make it arceus' problem if he has the audacity to make me a nosepass or something.

On a side note: what happens if you become a falinks, or a maushold or something? Do you just become one, and have to find your own squad? Or do you get cloned? Maybe a hivemind situation? And what of multi headed ones like doduo? Imagine if you and your second head don't get along!

#pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon

[lunarheslwt]

Let's start the year off right (with a kiss)

Written by @lunarheslwt

“You said you hate New Year's Eve and all the sappiness, but don't even try and tell me that a little part of you doesn't want all that too.”

“I couldn't care less about New Years Harold.”

“Wrong. You would very much not be opposed to having someone to kiss right now.”

“Oh sod of Harry,” he retorted, but it was weak, he couldn't meet Harry's eyes, and he was chewing at his lip nervously, not even aware Harry could see right through him. There was a tension that buzzed between them, but for once, he didn't care, he was edging on recklessly.

30 seconds to go

“Admit it,” Harry muttered lowly, and Louis scoffs, shaking his head resolutely, but finally meeting his gaze, and his eyes betray him, because there, as clear as day, was want, need, a hungry sort of desperation that burned wildly.

20 seconds

He tugged at the soft hair at the nape of Louis’ neck sharply, boldly, and paused a second to marvel at the quietest whimper that left his lips. And then pressed on, more desperately this time, “Admit it, Louis.”

“Fucking fine, yes. Maybe I want to kiss someone at New Years, so what??"

Or Louis hates New Year's Eve and thinks it's overrated, and Harry loves New Year's Eve and is hyped for it. Louis might just change his mind this New Year's Eve though. Or rather, a specific someone, and a specific something might nudge him along.

3.8k one shot | fluff, best friends to lovers, pining, idiots to lovers, new years eve, first kiss | fic post edit by me, all pictures belong to their original creators/source

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[chuchiotaku]

[PREVIEW] Pendragon HoP Chapter 3: Of Plans and Rituals

Happy New Year, everyone!

So it feels like forever since I updated. (It has been). My bad. It hasn't been easy to write lately, but I am still writing at least. Hopefully I'll be able to update more consistently? I have it in my New Year's resolutions list.

And we all know how those usually turn out. Hahahaha…

TARGET RELEASE DATE: January 2023

“...Regulus!”

He felt hands grab on either of his shoulders, making him look up to meet a pair of vibrant blue eyes. It was only then that he realized that he had fallen off the couch, that he was trembling in cold sweat, and that he was still on his knees because Ron was holding him up.

Wh—wha—?

Ron let out a breath. “Bloody hell, I was worried for a second that you blacked out again.”

“I—I’m fine—“

“Sure, and I’m Merlin.” Ron said dryly as he helped Regulus back on the couch. “What was it about this time? Looked something awful, if your face is anything to go by.”

“Try something else. Sirius always said I was the less good-looking Black brother.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Because he got all the good looks and charm instead of you, I imagine. Typical older brother shite.”

Regulus couldn’t help the short laugh despite his dry throat. “You have an older brother too?”

“Five.” Ron’s expression suddenly darkened again, making Regulus’ own amused smile drop. “Anyway, about your House Elf. If it means that much to you, then you don’t have to ask. Just...just let us know if there’s anything Dobby and I need to brace ourselves for.”

Regulus internally sighed at Ron’s poor attempt to change the topic (I need to teach him how to be more eloquent about that.) but allowed himself be redirected...

=*=*=

...It was right before Ron left Regulus and Dobby at the Room of Requirement. The other wizard had fallen into a potion-induced slumber not long after their discussion ended, having worn himself out over trying to find a solution to his being wandless predicament. Dobby reassured Ron that he will look after the still feverish Black, which opened the opportunity for the red head to come clean to Dobby about his current situation.

“Maybe Wheezy can asks help from Harry Potter and miss Granger about sir Regus?” Dobby suggested after making sure that Regulus was sound asleep. “Maybe they is being able to thinks of other plans to get sir Regus a wand?”

“That’s,” Ron swallowed audibly. “Dobby, I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

“Sorry? Dobby is not understanding.”

Another harsh swallow. “Dobby, Harry and I...we’re—we’re not friends anymore.”

The House Elf was silent for a few seconds before his eyes grew even comically larger. “Wh—what? But hows? Did—Did Wheezy and Harry Potter gets into another fight?”

“No, no, not a fight. It’s...” Ron irritably wiped at his eyes when he felt them burn again. Merlin, not this again! Apparently he hadn’t had enough of crying like a sodding wimp over what happened. But he owed Dobby an explanation, so, “You heard that You-Know-Who’s back, right? And that he’ll be after Harry? Well, the adults are preparing for that, and...part of their preparations is...making sure Harry associates with the right people. People who could help him better.”

Dobby’s widened eyes narrowed quickly. “And they is thinking Wheezy is not?” Those eyes became wide again. “And did...did Harry Potter agree?”

Ron realized that telling the truth, even just a brief version of it, had put Harry in a bad light. And his former best mate did not need any more on his plate, considering all the shite that he’ll most likely face in the future. Well, I can’t change the story for Dobby now. But I’ll have to remember to mind that in the future...

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