#petition to just ship tag from the very beginning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catcatb0y · 3 years

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Hi why are people getting mad at the development of a character in their own ship as if that doesn't help them, too???

Like bruh you're gonna tell me that Kirishima didn't see Bakugou's apology and tear up because 'how manly,,,'

Like??? Y'all aren't going to take Kirishima watching Bakugou rush to Midoriya's aid, and thinking that they're,,, you know,,, but Bakugou just comes back to Kirishima like, "Are you proud of me?"

OR EVEN BETTER HE COMES BACK LIKE, "I love you," whispered under his breath in exhaustion.

Kirishima coming downstairs to see Bakugou watching Midoriya sleep and being like, "You're dedicated, huh?" and Bakugou's like, "I owe it to him," worrying about whether or not Midoriya will accept his apology, worrying about whether or not he's actually grown-

And Kirishima comforting him about it, like, "You've already changed so much," telling him that Midoriya would be a fool not to see!

There is so much left up to interpretation at the moment, are y'all not going to capsize on the idea of Bakugou awkwardly going up to Kirishima and asking for his advice on how to apologize?

We haven't seen much of Kirishima, but a lot of Bakugou's actions have been purposefully mirroring Midoriya's because, you know, that's the narrative of saving to win, winning to save. However, can you imagine Bakugou putting Kirishima ABOVE that? Saying that, yeah, I will go that far to help a friend, but I am in love with you.

Back to when Midoriya was playing Vigilante on dark nights, when Bakugou can't help but worry, looking out the window and cursing his own wounds. Kirishima sneaking into his hospital room, or knocking on Bakugou's dorm hesitantly. The physical touch, physical comfort that Bakugou and Midoriya could never get because of the wall between them.

How easy it is for Kirishima to reach his hand out and grab Bakugou's.

Kirishima being Bakugou's anchor while Midoriya is out doing fuck knows what, because they're BOTH worried, but Kirishima will be strong so that Bakugou doesn't have to.

Midoriya is canonically important to BOTH of them, even if Bakugou's worry gets more screen time.

Deadass, you can even say that maybe Kirishima is the one pulling the strings behind Bakugou and Midoriya rekindling, because he knows how much it would mean to Midoriya- even if he does love Bakugou.

What about Bakugou crumbling under the weight of the war and confessing just how awful he had been to Midoriya- how he fully expects Kirishima to hate him after hearing it.

Maybe Kirishima has to take a moment. He freezes, but he pulls Bakugou into a hug anyway because he can see how much Bakugou regrets it.

Maybe he doesn't think about it at first, because comforting his friend is top priority, but he remembers the bullies he tried to stand up to... maybe he imagines Bakugou amongst one of the bullies... like!!! Angst!!! What can he do!! Maybe this is Kirishima's chance to be open with Bakugou, too, about how he hasn't always been as upstanding as he pretends to be,,,

Mutually inspiring each other!!!

Kirishima canonically looks up to Bakugou's strength and tenacity and thinks of him in a crisis (gaygay!), but like?? Bakugou being envious of Kirishima's amicablitiy! Especially since Bakugou has never really had real friends, because everyone around him was only after his strength and his name (you know a good chunk of the reason he started bullying Midoriya to begin with)*

*Y'all can literally talk about how Kirishima's friendship and love for Bakugou was one of the major catalysts that led to Bakugou's growth and his apology arc!!!

Can you imagine a talk between Bakugou and Kirishima, where Kirishima is looking at Bakugou's scars, maybe he runs a finger along them, longingly! Maybe he asks if they hurt, or he confirms that, yeah, Bakugou really got those saving Midoriya's life! And maybe Bakugou puts his hand over Kirishima's and says, "If that had been you, these wounds wouldn't have been able to stop me from kicking that villain's shitty ass."

Kirishima lets out a watery laugh and says some shit like, "Please don't do that."/"Please take care of yourself." Maybe he confesses! "I care about you, you know?"

Like I am a huge Ba/ku/De/ku no hiding it, but the angst!!! Of Kirishima looking at Bakugou and thinking that he likes Midoriya, but Bakugou's like, uh, no actually I'm just trying to apologize for being an ass to him. Or thinking that Midoriya's obsessive ass likes Bakugou, but haha actually he's just a natural fanboy whoops!

Maybe Bakugou does like Midoriya, and realizes his stupid bullying was pigtail pulling, but Midoriya is like (sorry, I only see you as a rival and a fellow Hero)! Bakugou knowing that he can't even really be upset, because he was kind of awful, and Kirishima reassuring him that he WAS awful, but he's not any more!!

Kirishima steadily filling up the hole in Bakugou's heart as they grow closer and close together-

Maybe give them a sappy exchange journal!! Writing down all of their thoughts and feelings (either as a way to get over Midoriya or in general just as a way for Bakugou to get better at expressing himself)!

Literally yall can have Bakugou telling Kirishima that he was the one who inspired Bakugou to apologize! And Kirishima being flustered because he's not used to people looking up to him!! Especially not Bakugou, who he has looked up to almost since the start of the series!

Like KiriBaku goes so strong because Kirishima looked at season one Bakugou, and looked past his... well everything, he was kind of an asshole, and saw the Bakugou that we are seeing today!

So, uh, with all that being said what the fuck is up with KiriBaku Twitter?

Do yall know or are you just as confused and annoyed as the rest of us?

#fuck it i'm tagging it #kiribaku #bakukiri #bakugou x kirishima #listen they have such a place in my heart despite Ba/ku/De/ku being my main ship #but like wow that side of the fandom is such a joy sapper #like can't all of us just come together and say 'some Ba/ku/De/ku shippers are cringe and ignore canon characterization for UwU effects'#and some KiriBakus also ignore canon characterization for UwU effects #and everyone getting mad at Bakugou's development is stupid and will be fed to the wolves #like this has been building up from the very beginning #I mean also Bakugou has two hands so like why can't we all just celebrate KiriBakuDeku #but polyshipping isn't for everyone okay #but ship wars are fucking stupid #also can the people who agree with that part of the fanom (seeing as this is the second time a KiriBaku fan (group) has targeted Horikoshi)#stop trying to blame it on Ba/ku/De/kus?#like if you're going to tell a creator to make your ship canon and then years later make a petition to make your ship canon #stop blamining it on a different ship just because you are cringe #if you're a sole KiriBaku shipper like 'I'm sorry they what?' or 'we don't claim them' you're cool I fuck with you #but stop blaming it on BakuDeku fans lmao #why is this like the third time (BAD) KiriBaku fans have done something cringe and everyone blames it on BakuDeku fans #please #they need to do what Ba/ku/De/kus have been doing from the beginning and just saying 'fuck canon' this is our domain #like three years ago we were laughed at and mocked for imagining Bakugou's growth even when it was tangibly in front of us #which uh no offense never really looked good for KiriBaku shippers I'm sorry like obviously not all of y'all but #if a character's growth and development hinders or deconstructs your ship it's not really a good ship #and Bakugou's growth DOESN'T hinder or harm KiriBaku just because it is centered around Midoriya #but the amount of people acting like it is?? I love the ship but y'all get how bad that looks??#I'm sorry but I have hidden my love for KiriBaku for years because of the toxic side of that fandom. I love this ship but I can't even #interact or share my love for it because I've had so many personal negative experiences and heard so many other horror stories #and that's not a good thing for anyone... it doesn't matter what becomes canon as long as we have fun right? right??

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dadolorian · 3 years

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Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 4

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: established relationship, P in V sex, fingering, Oral ( F receiving) , multiple orgasms, over stimulation, dirty talk, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl) checking of safe word, possessive language, aftercare, toys, squirting, pussy slap, nipple/clit pump, some mild fluff

Let me know if i forget anything

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day four, jack gift Honey Bee a special gift.

Thursday 12th of February

As promised, you were left with a very sore and tender pussy.

You awoke in uncomfortable pleasure with Jack's face buried between your legs, devouring you as if he hadn’t had his fill of you less than eight hours earlier.

Lazily, you tried to push him away with your hand, in a feeble attempt to fall back to sleep, however thanks to your lingering sensitivity and the skill of his tongue he managed to coax you to orgasm despite your meager attempt to recede back into sleep.

You whimpered, grogginess clear in your high whines, as Jack lapped you up, savoring your taste before beginning to kiss his way up your body, pushing up his t-shirt you still wore to kiss at more of your soft skin. He gravitated towards your lips finally, lazily melding his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue, alongside that taste you couldn’t describe as anything other than Jack. You moaned together, as if relieved to be connected once again finally.

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around you and lifted your hips to his, he hissed into your kiss as your soaked core rubbed up against his erection through his sweatpants.

“Is your sore pussy up to taking Daddy this morning?” he asked when you finally separated your lips from one another. His voice was raspy with sleep and need.

“If I'm not too sensitive for you to eat me out before I’ve even woken up, then I’m sure I can take your cock Daddy,” you cooed, giggling at the way his eyes darkened and the hungry look he gave you as he quickly hooked his sweats under his cock and balls.

“If you can still take me after last night, then clearly I didn't do a good enough job,” he teased before he pushed himself inside you with a satisfied groan.

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Even with Jack’s morning distraction he had the two of you out the door, before noon, dressed ready in warmer clothes than usual due to the reported snowfall.

He took you to Piazza Navona, it was beautiful, even with the overcast gray sky, thanks to the cold February air it was not as busy as you expected, giving you and Jack plenty of space to roam about the decadent square to observe the beauty of the architecture and fountains.

Snow covered the ground, which did not dampen your experience in the slightest. Jack promised to ‘make up for it’ in the future by taking you back in warmer months, but you silenced his worries with a kiss.

“I am thrilled we are here, even if it's cold, I don't need blue skies and sunshine to appreciate any of this Jack.”

He gave you a soft smile in return, feeling some of his worry lift.

“I still want to take you back here Sugar, one day.”

“I would love that, I just don't want you thinking I'm somehow disappointed because you took me here in late winter. I love it Jack, thank you.”

You shared a deep kiss in front of one of the fountains, as the only two people in the square.

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You were equally as excited when Jack took you to your next location for the day, and found it was just as empty as Piazza Navona. Trevi fountain was covered in snow, the blanket was growing steadily thicker as snow began to fall, Jack was grateful he had the foresight of an umbrella that day, opening it up and pulling you to his side as you both made your way over to the famed fountain.

“This is amazing, that we get to experience such a place, just the two of us” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder, huddling closer to him against the cold.

“It seems surreal Darlin,” he hummed beside you, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.”

You giggled. “Hmmm, and is this what we would do? If we were? Travel around, seeing the sights?”

“If it were just the two if us, I would want nothing more than just to explore the rest of the world with you, Honey Bee,” he smiled.

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You flipped through photos you had taken that morning on your phone as you sat in the passenger seat, Jack beside you holding your free hand as the driver took you to wherever he had planned for your lunch.

You giggled at one particular photo, Jack was pulling a face into the camera as he would often do when in a playful mood.

“Send me them when you get a chance Darlin,” he said warmly beside you, smiling at your smile. You gave him a nod before swiping through more.

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Lunch, as it turned out, was very similar to yesterday's lunch, as Jack had surprised you with another workshop. However, this time you were taking a pizza class.

Your stomach growled as you entered the warm Pizzeria, shrugging off the thick winter coats you wore and hanging them up. You were grateful for the change in temperature as you both cleaned off the snow clinging to the rest of your clothes before joining the small class.

You decided to spend the time this lesson enjoying the experience more than teasing Jack, who seemed just as agreeable to the notion as you stood side by side at your station, listening to your instructor.

You had a lot of fun, Jack kneaded the dough for you as you stood to the side, admiring his arms as he rolled up his sleeve and got to work. As the dough was stored away to rise, you cleaned your station together, sitting down to decide what toppings you each wanted.

Your pizza base was an uneven circle, Jack rolling it out once they were all deemed acceptable. You giggled at the lopsidedness of it, taking a quick photo of Jack’s pout as you giggled over your lumpy pizza base.

Together you made the sauce and spread it on your base, before you were finally allowed to decorate it with toppings. Before you could start, Jack made an equally uneven heart shape out of your shredded mozzarella, and with sauce bottle in hand, he managed to write a very messy “JD ❤️ HB”

You ‘awwed’ at the gesture, quickly snapping a picture of Jack next to his creation, smiling proudly.

“How very ‘cheesy’ of you,” you joked lamley, making Jack groan.

You finished putting the rest of your toppings on before you were finally allowed to deliver your pizza to the pizza oven. Jack was thrilled to get to use the large wooden pizza peel, and you made sure to take a video of Jack putting your pizza in the large oven to cook with help from the instructor.

While your lunch cooked you cleaned everything up, leaving your station as spotless as you found it. When the food was ready you and Jack sat at the tables, alongside other couples, chatting away happily as you all ate together, his arm around you lazily.

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You were surprised when Jack led you back to the hotel much earlier than you expected, having just finished lunch and bundling back up in your coats to brave the increasing snow.

You weren't complaining though, as you entered the lobby just as the snow had started to become a blizzard, more than happy to escape the cold for the rest of the day.

You were taken back to your room, and perhaps a little disappointed as you entered the bedroom, finding no gifts laid out.

Jack took notice, chuckling and kissing your cheek.

“Later Honey, we’re only stopping by to get rid of our winter gear,” he said warmly, shedding his coat once more and changing into some comfortable lounging clothes. He encouraged you to do the same, so quickly you dressed into a large baggy sweater dress, warm leggings and soft ugg boots. He took your hand once you were ready, and just as quickly as you had arrived to your suite, you were swept away to some unknown part of the hotel.

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You were delighted when you passed through two large glass doors to what you could only describe as a mini spa resort.

The air was warm and misty, smelling vaguely of vanilla and pine, tiled floors made shoes click as they passed over it, the walls were gray, with a large mural walk behind the tall reception desk. The hotel's logo stood out on the mural of trees, and sitting underneath, behind the desk were two petite young women who greeted you with a smile.

“Mr Daniels?” one of them asked in a strong italian accent.

Jack smiled and nodded, pulling you with him as you were led down a short hallway to the side, and then into a changing room where robes and towels waited for you.

You both undressed in your cubicles, putting on the towels and plush white robes provided for you. Jack took your hand back once the two of you were ready for whatever treatment you were about to get.

As usual, Jack had spared no expense, and the two of you were treated to a full spa experience. Jack had even gone the extra mile to give you a full beauty treatment as an added bonus.

You were able to relax in the Sauna together, your head resting on Jack’s shoulder as the heat sweat away your stresses. That was followed up by your beauty treatment. Mani and pedi, facial, exfoliation, face mask, eye mask, you experienced the full works, all while Jack cooled off in an Ice bath.

You enjoyed your pedicure along with a small sample of fruits and sandwich , followed up with a delicious slice of decadent cake, and a glass of champagne.

And the entire spa experience was topped off with a couples massage.

Jack reached across the small gap between your tables whenever he could to hold your hand in his. Any tension you had in your body melted away thanks to the expert hands of your masseuse and the scented oils coating your skin.

Sighing, you closed your eyes, trying hard not to fall asleep due to your extremely relaxed state, waiting to enjoy the feeling as much as possible by not drifting off.

You giggled, along with your masseuses when Jack's steady snore revibriated along the tiled walls, his hand relaxing in your grip as he drifted off, completely and utterly relaxed.

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By the time your massage had ended you were feeling more loose and relaxed than you had ever felt in your life, you rolled your shoulders with a content sigh, loving how loose your muscles felt.

“Damn Darlin, I didn't even realize my back was hurting so much until the pain went away,” Jack sighed beside you, taking your hand as you made your way back to the changing room to shower off the oil still coated to your skin.

“You enjoy your beauty treatment?” he asked, taking your hand in his once you were dressed, inspecting your manicure and affectionately stroking your fingers with his.

“Yes,” you nodded smiling at him. “Thank you.”

He smiled back and kissed your forehead. “Not that you need a beauty treatment Darlin, you’re already stunning,” he said, making you blush.

Washed, dried, and dressed you made your way back to your suite together.

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As he had promised earlier, gifts were now laid out on the bed, you bounced over to them excitedly, making Jack chuckle at your eagerness. Three boxes, with no clothes set out that evening, which surprised and intrigued you. As expected, one of the boxes contained a lingerie set, red and lacy, but unlike the other set the had bought for you so far, they were not intended to be practical, usable underwear as well, as the cups of the ‘bra’ were not there, the lace would perfectly frame your breasts, leaving them exposed for Jacks viewing pleasure. The ‘panties’ were matching, crotchless, this set was purely to wrap you up nice and pretty leaving everything open to Jack so he would not have to remove a single piece from you to get what he wants.

He growled softly behind you, wrapping his arms around you to kiss at your neck. “Gonna look so good in that Darlin,” he said, voice deep with lust already at the thought of you wearing it.

“Open the others”

You placed the first box down back on the bed, reaching for the next closest box and lifting the lid. Instantly you felt yourself growing wet at the sight of its content.

“I hope after last night you won't be too sore to play with these tonight,” Jack’s teasing voice tickled your neck as you stared down at the toys in the box.

So far, in the short time you had been together you had experimented with toys only a handful of times, and so far, they had been simple bullets and vibes. Evidently tonight, Jack wanted to be a bit more, experimental.

One simple, silver bullet vibe, a finger vibe, a silicone egg attached to a silicone string you could only guess vibrated, and the largest dildo you had ever seen in person. Your heart was beating fast in anticipation, and you were sure Jack could feel it with his lips latched to your pulse point.

“Open the last one,” he rasped.

You almost dropped the box as you opened it, overwhelming anticipation making you shake as you stared down at a toy you had only ever dreamed about being used on you.

Nipple and clit pumps, you were certain Jack was planning on a night just as intense as the last night, and you were more than looking forward to it.

“Go, get changed, I’ll be waiting for you.”

You were quick to change in the ensuite, touching up your hair in the mirror and re-applying Jacks favorite mascara. When you came back out to the bedroom, dressed in the exposing red number, Jack was laid out on the bed, even more exposed than you, completely nude as he lay back with a cocky grin, slowly pumping his hardening cock.

You feigned feeling bashful, hiding half of your body behind the door frame and avoiding his eyes. He chuckled, becoming you over with his finger.

“No need to feel shy Darlin, you look good enough to eat,” he hummed, still stroking his cock slowly with one hand while the other was open to you in invitation. You padded over the soft carpet, still pretending to feel shy. As soon as you were in reach he pulled you to the bed, pushing you onto your back and bending over you to give you a kiss.

“I really could eat you up, you sexy little thing,” he teased, his fingers dancing across your skin to the lacy edges of your ‘bra’, the pads of his fingers brushing against your bare breasts as he played with the lace.

“These,” he said, squeezing your breasts, weighing them in his palm. “A meal fit for a king,” he continued, growling before dipping his head further to mouth at your breasts. He lavished attention to them, making sure to toy with the one not currently in his mouth with his hand, squeezing, kneading the flesh in his large calloused hands, and tweaking your nipple while he licked and suckled on the other one.

You moaned, already aroused just by looking at the toys he had selected for that night, but even further so now. You felt your arousal leak out of you, with no barrier to hold it thanks to the lack of material covering your centre.

Jack switched, making sure each of your breasts felt the attention of his mouth, you looked down at him, and found him staring back at you with intense, dark eyes, watching your every reaction, every gasp and moan.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he moaned agaisnt your skin, placing a few soft kisses to your peaked nipples before pulling away. His hand stroking the flesh of your thigh as he sat up, erection proudly twitching against his stomach.

“Which of those toys caught your attention most, baby?” He asked, positioning you gently further back on the bed.

“T-the pumps,” you answered truthfully, rubbing your coated thighs together in anticipation as Jack got up off the bed to collect the boxes.

“Yeah? You want Daddy to torture your nipples and poor little clit?” he asked, setting the boxes beside you on the bed.

You nodded up at him eagerly.

“Daddy will do just that,” he promised, picking out the finger vibe from the box and sliding it over his index, switching it on so it buzzed lightly. “But I want to try them all out on you baby.”

His finger started at your nipples, trailing slowly down your body until he reached your clit, circling it gently so the vibrations barely tickled you. You whined, lifting your hips , trying to gain more pressure to your clit, but Jack slapped your thich in warning.

“You take what Daddy gives you,” he reminded you, torturing you further by rubbing his vibrating finger over your clit directly, so lightly you could only just feel the promise of the vibrations against your swollen bud.

“Daddy please,” you whined, pouting when he chuckled at you, not taking pity on you.

“Patience is a virtue sugar,” he teased, leaning over to rasp in your ear. “Daddy will will make you cum so hard so much it fucking hurts if you be good for me.”

You moaned, knowing full well Jack always kept his promises if you behaved for him.

“Imagine that big one inside you,” he continued, knowing full well his words could turn you on just as much as his touches. “I wanna see your sweet little peach of a pussy stretch around that, your hungry little hole taking that massive cock, fuck, I bet it would hurt to cum around that thing, your cunt stretched so much and tightening around that, fuck I could cum just imagining that.”

You moaned again, nodding your head and silently begging for just that, wanting to please him, wanting that painful pleasure.

Your eyes were closed, imagining his little fantasy, how good it would feel when he surprised you by pushing the vibe right onto your clit, making you yelp.

“We’re gonna start small, and make our way up,” he said, sitting back up to watch you writhe under the pleasure of the vibe. “It’s going to be another long night Baby girl.”

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Jack had successfully made you cum with the finger vibe without ever sliding anything inside you, and had slowly worked you open with the small silver vibe, pumping it in and out of you slowly, bringing you back to the edge of pleasure before abandoning it to the side. You whined in frustration as he took his sweet time picking the next toy, much to your annoyance. There were two toys left in that box and you knew he was going to end with the larger one. He was simply trying to rile you up.

Deciding you were being just a bit too bratty with your complaints, he gave your pussy a harsh slap.

“Patience Baby,” he warned with a growl. “That's your second warning!”

You bit your lip, trying to silence yourself as he pretended to decide which toy to use.

Eventually he picks up the silicone egg and returned to his previous position between your legs, laying on his stomach so he could watch up close.

He turned the egg on, feeling it buzz in his palm before slowly pushing it inside you, cooing gently about how good your pussy looked, framed by your panties as it stretched around the widest part of the egg. Shoving it inside you as deep as it could reach he watched with fascination how slick leaked from you with each powerful buzz.

“Remember, you can’t cum until Daddy says you can,” he laughed before licking up your arousal with a moan. You heard him whisper against your folds how you tasted so good.

You were focusing hard on not cumming until he said so, but that was made far more difficult when he took a hold of the silicone ��string’ attached to the toy, slowly pulling it down your channel and stretching your hole again.

You keened, arching your back and trying so hard to wait for his permission. He repeated the action, pushing the vibrating egg deep inside you before slowly pulling it out, stopping when you stretched around the widest point. He watched entranced, growling hungrily every time your entrance stretched around it.

He kissed your clit, circling his tongue around it, drinking up your moans.

“Fuck baby, watching my sweet little cunt stretch like this, just makes me want to see what else I can fit in you,” he moaned, lapping up at your folds now. “Im gonna buy the biggest fucking toy I can find when we get home, we’re gonna find your limit one day.”

His lips latched onto your core, eating you out vigorously, and still playing with the toy with his hand, he was struggling to grip it securely with how much you were leaking.

He shoved the toy back inside, pushing up right against your g-spot as he began suckling your clit.

You shrieked, trying not to wriggle too much as you begged, helplessly, for permission.

“Daddy! Please! Please! Pleasepleaseplease!” You wailed. Looking down at him, between your legs, eyes watching you intently again, you saw him nod.

Permission.

You thanked him with a cry as you arched further off of the bed, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he drank down your release, tongue lapping at your hole beside the silicone still hanging out of you. You clenched down around the toy, shaking as your walls contracted around the vibrations.

“Daddy!” You whined, slowly rocking your hips into his face as you rode out your orgasm. As the waves of pleasure washed away, Jack ever so slowly pulled the toy out of you, kissing your clit in praise as he did so. You whimpered, sensitive as he kissed you there.

He cooed again as you stretched around the toy, watching as he pulled it out at a snails pace, enraptured at the sight.

“My pretty little pussy,” he praised, diving to lap up at you again once the toy popped out of you. You mewled, lazily trying to push him away, but he wouldn't be denied his sweet treat.

Jack tossed the toy to the side and crawled up your body, lifting your thighs around his waist. Teasingly, he rocked his hips so his cock, now leaking pre-cum onto your skin.

“Daddy wants to be inside his pretty little pussy,” he rasped. “I know you’re sensitive baby, oohhh but daddy wants to make you a creamy mess before you take that big one, I need you slick with both our cum before I stretch you out with that thing.”

He was rambling, but watched your expression carefully as he lined himself up with your hole, smearing his pre-cum around your folds, waiting for any kind of refusal before pushing his hips forward and filling you easily thanks to his attentions with the egg.

“Fuck, there we go,” he groaned when the flesh of your ass met his thighs. Bottoming out inside of you. You moaned loudly as he filled you up, feeling his tip meet your innermost wall. “I aint ever been in a pussy this good Baby.”

Having neglected his cock for so long, choosing to pleasure you ahead of himself, Jack didn’t bother wasting time building up a slow and steady pace. He pounded into you hard and fast as he always did when chasing his own release and slaps echoing in the room.

He crashed his lips on yours, noses bumping together as the taste of your cum flooded your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, and messy, but Jack desperately seemed to need his mouth on yours as his hips rammed yours. You could tell by his desperation he would not last long, he rarely did when he had aroused himself so much by pleasuring you.

Once, twice, three times he bucked into you hard before warm cum flooded your insides, he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and bit hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, groaning loudly.

You didn’t complain about the fact that he had sought his own release as he lazily pulled out of you, pushing his seed back inside you with his thumb, knowing full well he intended to make you cum at least once more that night.

“Baby,” he sighed, licking his thumb clean of your combined releases. “What's your color? You still good to try take that big one?”

“Green Daddy,” you sighed, settling into the pillows comfortably, preparing yourself for the challenge.

“My perfect girl,” he said proudly, kissing your cheek and retrieving the toy.

You knew there were larger toys out there, but this would be the largest you had ever taken personally, it was bigger than Jack, who was already an impressive size himself. He placed the toy beside you on the bed before opening the bedside drawer for a bottle of lube.

“I know you’re wet Darlin, you’re always wet for me, your horny little cunt’s always up for more, isn’t she? But we still need to prep you” he said, coating his fingers in lube and putting two in you straight away. The artificial lube, mixed with both of your cum made obscene noises as Jack pumped his fingers and stretched you open.

“Daddy can get hard again on that noise alone Honey Bee,” he chuckled, laughing harder as your eyes widened as you glanced down at his spent, wet cock that was already twitching with interest.

You bit your lip and wiggled slightly, stopping when his eyes cut back to your face in warning.

“Are you going to take me again Daddy?” You asked as a third finger pushed inside you.

“Ohhh, you can bet on it Baby,” he moaned, watching your hole stretching around his fingers. When he managed to fit a fourth, large finger inside you, he stretched you wide open so he could stare into your hole, groaning at the sight.

“My perfect little cunt,” he whispered before spitting into your hole, giving you an obnoxiously cocky grin before pulling his fingers free and shoving them in your mouth to clean.

Obediently you lapped them up, cleaning your combined cum and lube off of his fingers while his free hand opened the bottle again. Once he deemed his fingers acceptably clean he pulled them out of the hot cavern of your mouth and picked up the toy, coating it generously in lube.

“You sweet little pussy’s gonna look so good taking this,” he growled, shoving your legs apart as wide as they could go and lining the tip of the toy up at your entrance. He was extremely careful, as he pushed it forward, watching your reaction carefully for any sign of discomfort. Even with the stretching and copious slick from the lube and cum it was a struggle to take, the stretch was burning and so far he had only pushed the tip in. Jack paused, waiting patiently for your face to relax as he slowly pulled the toy out, then back in, pushing just a little bit deeper each time, pausing, waiting for you to adjust each time you grimaced.

It took a lot of hard work, but with both your efforts the toy was eventually pushed as deep as it could go. You both moaned in unison once the toy could go no deeper. Jack laid down on his stomach, between your legs, staring longingly once again at the stretch of your pussy.

“Baby,” he cooed in adoration, running this finger around the toy where your hole stretched around it, making you whimper. “Look at that, fuck, just imagine how much we could get to fit in you with practice. Your sweet, tiny little pussy’s stretched so wide, Can’t wait to make you cum on that, bet it’s gonna hurt, make you cry, sweet thing.”

You were stretched so wide that the arousal you felt at his words could not escape, simply filling you up further, making you whine.

“Wait here, hold your legs open,” he ordered getting up off the bed, you noticed he was hard again already, having worked himself up watching you stretch around the new toy.

He picked up the last box.

Oh.

You had forgotten about that.

Jack gently picked up the pumps before returning to you, gently attaching the suction cups to each nipple and your clit. He loved how your breasts look, framed by the ‘bra’, pump attached to your nipples.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, it’ll hurt so good baby,” he rasped, voice deep and gravely with lust.

He squeezed the pump gently in one hand, watching how you would react with fierce intensity and hunger. The first pump was just enough to feel a slight suction, a mild sensation, but he continued to pump away slowly, watching the way your nipples began pulling up into the clear cups. He groaned at the sight, and once your nipples and clit started to feel the tight suction you whined loudly in both pain and pleasure, unintentionally squeezing around the large toy inside you still.

Without warning Jack repeatedly squeezed the pump hard and fast, startling you with the sudden, constant suction.

“Ahhhh! Daddy!” You yelped, struggling to keep still for him.

“You know your words,” he reminded you. “They’re there if you need them.”

You shook your head no, wanting that painful orgasm he promised you and was intent on giving you.

You were sobbing as he pumped away, clit and nipples red and raw as they were pulled up into the cups, there would be marks in the morning, no doubt about that.

It was painful, but incredibly arousing at the same time, they had never been this sensitive before, this abused and your head was swimming in the delirium of it.

Jack jerked himself off with his free hand above you, as you squirmed beneath him, the painful, burning stretch of the toy, and the constant and the arduous suction on your most sensitive parts were driving you insane.

To torment you further, Jack placed the pump down but did not release the suction, instead, grabbing onto one of the cups on your nipples and tugging at it. You cried, the pain agonising but it just made you anticipate your orgasm all the more.

Proud of the reaction he pulled from you, his hand moved to the suction cup on your clit, repeating the action. You shrieked, louder than you ever had before and Jack abandoned his cock to cover your mouth, as he repeatedly tugged at the cup, muffling your shrieks.

“Normally I love your noises Baby but we don't need people coming to investigate that now do we?” he teased. “Now I'm going to let go and you’re going to cum for me. You understand?”

You nodded into his hand.

“Good, you need to scream like that, do it into the pillow,” he said before pulling his hand from your mouth to grip the toy filling you up by the base and jackhammering it inside of you, still tugging at the pump on your clit.

It was instantaneous, and as painful as he had promised. Your hole was stretched as wide as it could possibly go right now and gripping hard on the toy that was stuffed inside you. Jack growled, watching with rapt fascination as your poor abused hole rhythmically clenched around the artificial cock.

You didn't shake as much as you thrashed, pulling the pillow to your face to scream your voice hoarse as tears escaped your eyes due to the pain you were drunk on.

Wet squelching, screams and Jack’s praises and curses filled the room as you came and cum gushed from you. Your body was both trying to milk the toy and push it out of you at the same time, and you realized the toy was being forced from you because you were squirting around it. Jack seemed unaware given how big the toy was, but he was preparing to enter you the second he pulled the toy from you, the hand previously tugging at your clit pump was stroking his cock while the hand still on the toy quickly pulled it out of you, coating him in the cum still squirting from you.

“Fuck Baby!” he shouted, surprised for just a moment before he growled and quickly shoved himself in your gaping pussy before you finished. Pounding into you at a brutal pace, unintentionally but happily massaging that spot making you squirt, drenching his front in even more cum before your body could take no more.

“Fuck I didn’t think this would be how I made you squirt the first time, but Im not complaining,” he groaned in your ear, ripping your pillow away from your face and pounding into you, holding your still thrashing body tightly to him, ignoring the pump still on you as his cock destroyed your hole. Over and over again.

His pace was brutal and you cried, from the intense pain and pleasure of your orgasm, from the suction still on your nipples and clit, from the overstimulation of him pounding into you before you had even finished, how tender and swollen your sex was that was continuing to be abused, and the words that dripped from his mouth.

“My fucking pussy, this is mine,” he growled, his voice sounding feral and animalistic. “No ones ever going to please you the way I do, fill you the way I do, every inch of you is mine!”

“Y-yours,” you eeped out, voice faint after screaming so loud.

That was all he needed to push him over the edge, shouting his release as he pulled you up into him and he pushed in as deep as he could go, ignoring how the pump dug into both of you, hitting your cervix, making you cry out as he came.You felt it leak out of you, your abused hole unable to hold it in as he pulled out. Pausing a moment to free you of the pump, making you hiss in pain and relief before Jack collapsed on top of you with a groan, resting his head between your breasts and wrapping his arms around you.

You weren't sure how long the two of you lay there, clinging to each other, hearts and breath slowing down and sweat cooling from your skin as you stroked his hair.

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

Eventually, once he was no longer panting, Jack sat up, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead as he took survey of the mess on yourselves and the bed.

“You good baby?” he asked, the need for sleep clinging to his voice.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That was…”

“Intense?” he supplied with a weak chuckle, getting up off of the bed. “Come on baby, let clean up and get you sorted.”

You whined in complaint, rolling to your side, back to him.

��I know you’re tired,” he cooed, gently picking you up and carrying you to the ensuite. “But you’ll regret waking up in a wet bed, covered in cum and sore as all hell.”

“Fine” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, more than happy to let him do all the work, and you knew he was more than happy to do it.

He took extra care with you that night, cleaning you up, removing the lingerie from your body, soothing your sore abused nipples with ointment, changing the bedsheets and praising you as you snuggled to him every chance you got.

You were already asleep by the time he put you to bed and tucked you in beside him.

Taglist:

@thats-one-tender-foot @luminescentlily @nuttybeardetective @ishqinbbc @ben-is-a-hoe @calamity-queen @phoenixhalliwell @talesfromtheguild @the-arctic-violet @jeeperky @mando-amando

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #my fic #Seven Days of Valentine's #DIamonds&Daddies #SugarDaddy!Whiskey #thots #smut

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sweetspunsugar · 2 years

Text

want some salt with that tea?

alright y'all, it's been a while, but i'm back with some new (great) tea! if you're not caught up, go back and read my first teatime post, because i will be discussing a lot of that.

so, for starters, you know I's little stunt with asking out S? days after I was rejected, she brought it up casually, claiming it was a dare, but An knows (and spreads!) the truth. I very much likes S still--though she didn't make it subtle, spending so much time around S. however, if you remember from my last post, S already had a crush on T, and she was pretty certain T liked her back--the two even dated in the past! however, when S approached T for Valentine's, she was brutally rejected…or, well, simply rejected. turns out T's got her eye on a cute tennis boy.

next up, remember how As was part of the friend group, which shall from hereon be referred to as the stairs friends? well, turns out it wasn't a slow growing apart. it was way more than that. in fact, in a server V's in, le friend group has dedicated an entire channel to all of As's shit. and trust me, there's quite a lot in there, including a wholeass document with "proof" of all the awful and manipulative things As has done. is it true? i don't think we'll ever know. but one things for sure, and it's that *le friend group* has not got each others' backs. why do i say this?

well, As is not the only one who's pulled attention stunts before. I has had her own little show, including a specific incident where she "had" dissociative identity disorder for all of one week (overdramatic switches and all), and everything simply vanished the next week. there are also rumors of Ja faking certain things as well, but those are merely whispers in the wind. it is a little ironic, however, that I, with all her attention stunts, temper issues, and boundary breakings, is still in the friend group, while As has been banished to the far ends of the earth.

speaking of I and her boundary breaking, there was quite an incident last year involving I making a petition about D's pronouns, an action that landed her in the principal's office and sending out emails apologizing to the whole school. however, it has recently been found out that I not only did not have D's permission, but D was also very hesitant about the permission. but then again, does this come as a surprise? not at all.

and while we're discussing D, not only has D's last relationship become completely forgotten by both parties (*ahem* for real this time…), but D and Js's relationship is still going strong, and though D has sworn everyone who knows to secrecy, they aren't doing much to hide it, with all that cuddling in the corner. in fact, complete outsiders have questioned them, and V's accidental "Js, control your boyfriend!" didn't do much to help people's suspicions. but then again, D was never known for much beyond obvious love bombing and then dirty breakups.

all right, just about ready to wrap up, but anything else we got? well, there's some more scandalous moments with I: namely, one recent one where she was discussing Mandarin and went up to a Japanese girl in the grade and asked, "do you speak Chinese? I mean, Mandarin?" and this is after I's repeated slurs against colored people…she's certainly not doing well socially, but then again, as cruel as the trio made up of An, Gr, and El is, they don't care enough for drama to confront I, and so she continues to tag along.

oh, Ah had a crush on An, but then again, that's not old news…just another suspicion of yours truly confirmed. i've been suspecting such going on ever since last year, when An came on a call and started with "so you know how Ah's not straight…", then ended abruptly. real subtle, An. and thanks to an inside source, i now know another dirty secret of yours that i suspected from the beginning: you and Gr are indeed running our school's new ship account. so much for a good liar, huh?

well, that's all i've got for now, my gossip-seekers. but there's still so much left unknown. how will D and Js's situation play out? will I get what she really deserves? a certain new substitute is not willing to put up with I's bullshit; will she finally take I down a notch? will An, Gr, and El get caught in their shenanigans? which friendships will fall apart, and which will turn out stronger than ever?

stay tuned, and enjoy the tea.

#teatime #gossip #tea #secrets #rumors #T #online diary #yes i've gotten this bored #hot gossip #whispers #drama #news #school drama #gossip girl vibes

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 3 years

Text

for @stillthesunkenstars based on her tags from my Gallifrey/BS incorrect quotes post!!

for the permanent record i didn't write or intend this as a ship, just two slightly insane DWEU antagonists meeting. and i haven't read the book(/s?) with Avril Fenman, so her characterization here is based entirely on Georgia Moffett/Tennant's portrayal in the audio The Curse of Fenman, hope that works lol

(fic below the cut!!)

~~~

"You're pretty," says a voice from behind her. "Or, rather, whoever's form you're using is pretty."

Pandora turns slowly around, eyes flashing indignantly at the fact that someone has managed to sneak up on her. The woman leaning against a nearby pillar is petite, and blonde, and unfamiliar. That is to say: she's fragile, vulnerable. But her air is one of complete confidence, even cheerfulness, and Pandora is both wary and curious.

"She is, isn't she?" she calmly replies, making a show of glancing down at herself. Romana had been beautiful in this body. "She is -- I am -- the President of this planet, you know."

The blonde nods and smiles. She's not actively baring her teeth, but the expression seems casually threatening nonetheless. "Yeah, I heard." She pauses, moves from her spot against the pillar and takes a step closer. Her next words are almost random. "Try to get into my head."

Pandora, internally appalled, raises one dark eyebrow. This small woman is strange: she's appeared out of seemingly nowhere and cornered her in a courtyard that Pandora knows for a fact is well-guarded; she seems utterly at ease here despite that Pandora's impression is that she's a foreigner, and although she looks young, it's clear that she carries some sort of power. As Pandora hesitates, the blonde woman paces even closer with a playful gleam in her eye.

"Who are you, human?" Pandora asks, then, in a rare moment of uncertainty: "K-9, she is human, isn't she?"

The robot dog, who to this point has been silent at Pandora's feet, makes a whirring noise as his scanner works. "Affirmative, Mistress Pandora. Life-signs indicate that she is human."

The other woman's eyes light up. Before Pandora can blink or even move, she's darted over and crouched down in front of K-9. "Oh, good boy!" she exclaims with a wide grin. "Such a good robot dog!"

K-9's ears spin back and forth in appreciation of the attention. Pandora frowns. "You waven't answered my question, human. Who are you?"

She stays knelt by K-9, one hand stroking him as if he was a real animal. Pandora is beginning to think this woman is quite insane, and she doesn't know why she hasn't already called a guard over to deal with her.

Fascination, perhaps, which matches that which the woman looks up at her with.

"Call me Avril," she says, "Avril Fenman. Try getting inside my head," she repeats her earlier prompt.

"Why should I?"

Fenman -- Avril -- pouts. "Please?" she adds.

Pandora sighs in exasperation, but relents. If a masochistic human with far too much enthusiasm wants to have her feeble brain shredded, who is she to say no? At the very least she'll have a bit of fun.

Avril stares up at her expectantly, and Pandora doesn't even bother to physically touch her for this. There's no need, with how powerful Pandora knows herself to be and how simple she knows humans to be. She simply stretches out her mental field and stops short in sudden realization-

-Because she can't reach Fenman's mind. Pandora hasn't been in a human mind in oh so long, but she remembers how easy they are to break into and twist and play with. "Brainwashing" is such a petty word to use, but the action of doing it brings a sadistic pleasure. This one is closed off to her, and strangely bright -- like a wall of solid crystal. She doesn't betray her shock, just steps back and rosses her arms. She understands now why this woman wanted to test her this way.

"You're like me," she observes.

Avril nods and, giving K-9 one last pat, pops to her feet. "Yep!"

"And that," she adds, "Is not, strictly speaking, your body either."

"Nope." Avril copies Pandora's earlier motion of glancing down at herself. "I do like this one a lot, though. Might end up keeping it!"

"You do that," Pandora replies dryly. "What do you want with me, telepath?" Only an exceedingly strong telepath could keep Pandora out of their mind, and only a very stupid or very suicidal one would dare to tease her like this. She doesn't know if she's unnerved or impressed -- just that she needs to know more about this Fenman woman. She could be an asset to her campaign, or a potentially crippling enemy.

"Just to stop by and say hi." Avril smiles disarmingly. Her attitude is almost childish, which only adds to the dissonance of her. "I ran into you -- well, sort of -- somewhere and sometime else. I wanted to meet you in person."

"What do you mean," Pandora queries suspiciously, "You ran into me?"

Avril shrugs. "You were in somebody else's head. Can't really say any more -- timelines, all that; I'm sure you understand." Her smile turns suddenly sharp and dangerous. "Good luck with all this, by the way." She gives Gallifrey as a whole a vague wave of her hand to imply her meaning before she abruptly turns on her heel and walks away.

"I didn't dismiss you," Pandora shouts futilely after her, but the blonde is already out of sight. She lets out an undignified growl of frustration as she's left alone with the knowledge that she's been toyed with.

#fanfic #Lu rambles #Lu writes #big finish gallifrey #big finish audios #bernice summerfield #pandora #avril fenman #flash fic #i wrote this in like an hour on a car ride today #imagine these two actually teaming up tho #it would be so fun and so scary #scary telepathic power duo

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rowansparrow · 3 years

Text

Rowan’s 30-Day Prompt Challenge, Day 4

Day 4 Prompt: Overworked (Thank you @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life!)

Ship: Commander Fox x Riyo Chuchi

Rating: Teen (Some innuendo)

Tag List: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life, @theloveablepenguin, @flybynite19 (I know you are the Foxiyo President, so I thought I would perhaps give you a tag?) @cheesemachine44

Comment Below if you’d like to be added to the writing prompt tag list!

This is my first time writing Foxiyo, please be gentle with me.

Senator Chuchi did not enjoy going on relief missions. Quite the opposite, she hated them. She hated that there were people out there who needed relief in the first place – hated that men, women, gods above, even children were thrust into a war that even as a Senator, she didn’t fully understand.

Riyo watched as hyperspace glowed outside her window, casting a pale blue light into the room. The chrono on the desk beside her indicated it was far past the typical time she went to bed, but paperwork waited for nobody. Especially when lives depended on her pushing through the slogs of it in order to petition for more relief supplies to be sent to small, largely ignored corners of the Republic space.

She counted herself lucky, this time around. The small moon to the north of Pantora, which she had been visiting as part of her mission, was considerably better off than many of the planets she had been to on previous relief trips. The villagers had seemed in high spirits, and were grateful for the supplies Riyo and her clone escorts had brought them.

She only wished it wasn’t necessary to begin with.

“You’re doing it again.”

Riyo jumped. She had not even heard the door open, much less heard Commander Fox step up behind her chair.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Riyo replied, a hand over her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Sorry,” he said, sounding positively not sorry at all. “And you know what I’m referring to.”

Riyo frowned up at him, and Fox extended a hand to her.

“It can wait until morning, Riyo.” He said, his voice soft. “Come to bed.”

They had been in this position before, it seemed. Riyo could remember times in the past when Fox had said “go to bed” and not “come to bed,” time they had wasted with formalities and sensibility, times they could have spent together. But that was neither here nor there.

“Not yet.” She said, turning back to her data pad already. “I have to finish my report on this latest mission, and then I have to begin prepping the next one. The paperwork moves so slowly, Fox, if I don’t get another relief package started right away, the requisitions won’t go through until -.”

“And how well do you expect to help others when you barely take care of yourself?” Fox interrupted gently, moving his hand instead to her shoulder. He ran his fingers lightly down her arm, stopping on her knuckles, and squeezed her hand. “You need to rest, Riyo. We both do. The reports will still be there in the morning, and I’ll keep you company while you fill them all out.”

“I think you’ll be a distraction more than anything.” Riyo groused, but was already turning in her chair to face him as he planted his palms on either side of her, against the armrests of the chair.

“That’s true, yes. I’ve been known to be a bit of a distraction.” He grinned, planting a kiss on her cheek before pressing their foreheads together. “But if I promise to keep my hands to myself tomorrow,” he began, slowly dropping to his knees as his hands slid down her arms again. “And I stay very quiet while you work,” His hands were folded on her thighs now, his chin resting on his knuckles. “Will you kindly come to bed, Senator Chuchi?”

Riyo was trying very hard to maintain her frown.

“I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Fox grinned, and immediately scooped her up into his arms. Riyo squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he dipped her low, giving her a long, deep kiss.

Three quick knocks sounded on the door.

“Senator Chuchi?” A clone’s voice asked. “Everything all right in there?”

Riyo clapped a hand over Fox’s mouth, keeping her legs and free arm wrapped around him. “Yes! All is well!” She said quickly. “Just got some rather good news. I’ll be out shortly!”

“Very well ma’am.”

Riyo giggled softly, slowly removing her hand from Fox’s mouth and grinning down at him.

“Now, are you taking me to bed, or shall I walk there myself?”

#ro writes #Fox #Commander Fox #Riyo #Riyo Chuchi #Foxiyo #Commander Fox x Riyo Chuchi #Fox x Riyo #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #sw #swtcw #tcw

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

I Couldn't Seem to Die

They get word that Alexander died at Schuykill river, before they can begin to process he walks in alive and well.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: they are sad abt Alex, but he's fine just a bit wet. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Any other day Laurens would feel bad for the young soldier who had to report such terrible news to the General, but now the words were ringing in his ears and he could not bring himself to feel anything at all.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton has been swept up by the river after he was shot, he did not make it out”

He knew how much Alexander hated the water, just being wet or the sound of rain would make him agitated and annoyed. Now, he was in a watery grave, forever surrounded by the water he had hated so much.

There would be no body to bring back or bury.

Laurens felt sick to his stomach as he remembered his friends face, the same face that had smiled at him not that long ago, filled with delight that he had been entrusted with his own mission as he promised Laurens he would see him again in the morning.

It just couldn't be true.

He didn’t allow it to be true.

This would not be the end of Alexander.

But one look at the General or Lafs face was enough to tell him the soldier’s words had not been a trick of his mind.

Alexander was gone.

The realization hit him all over again and he collapsed back into the chair he had gotten out of when the soldier had come in to give his report.

There was silence in the Generals tent as the three men tried to comprehend and deal with the opening that had been left in their lives.

Faintly Laurens wondered how he was going to write to Herc about what had happened. The other had been very fond of Alexander and hearing about his death would be as much of a blow to him as it was to them.

Hours, minutes, days could have passed as the tent remained silent.

A stack of letters written by Alexander was glaring at them from the desk, his handwriting familiar with scathing words wrapped in politeness meant for the Congress in hopes that they would answer with aid instead of more denials.

They were snapped out of it by sounds of an argument with the guards of their tent. No one really wanted to deal with anything besides their grief, but they still had a war to fight, an enemy army on the moveand the information could be important.

With a heavy heart reflected in his voice the General called out: “Let him pass.”

The tent flap was pushed aside and an annoyed ghost walked in as he grumbled, mostly to himself: “You get soaked and suddenly no one knows who you are anymore.”

“Alexander?” three voices called out simultaneously.

His eyes widened at the others there and he saluted the General, not waiting for permission to speak as he reported: “The mission was a success, sir. But I have send word to the Congress that we have to abandon the capitol. It is merely advise, sir, and I apologize for not reporting back first, but the British are already marching and there was no time.”

He was shivering from the cold and still soaked to the bone, his usual ponytail was in complete disarray and his hair was sticking to his head.

All in all he looked a mess.

And the others had never been more happy to see him, though they were not really showing it, since they were still in shock of seeing him right there. Alive and well. He was breathing in front of them when not moments ago they thought him dead at the bottom of a river.

“Uhm, have I done something wrong, sir?” he asked, confusion turning into nerves.

Laf was the first snapped out of it, rushing forwards to Alexander as he swept the younger aid into his arms as he exclaimed: “Mon petit lion, you’re alive! I am so relieved. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was just my horse that got shot out from under me, I had to swim, but I am merely cold, nothing worse.” Alexander assured him.

Immediately he was pulled next to the fire as the General also startled into action, getting his blanket from the cot in the tent and draping it over Alexanders shoulders, not caring if it would get wet.

Alexander was letting it happen, completely confused over the reaction of his friends. When it didn’t seem like he would be getting any answers, he asked: “Might I inquire about what brought this on?”

Laurens was the one that got the admission from his lips as he whispered: “We just got word that you died, Alexander.”

“Oh.” was all Alexander managed in return.

“Yeah, oh.” Laurens replied.

“Well, uhm, I didn’t.” he tried to comfort the others.

“And we’re glad for it, son.” the General said, “Now what was this about Congress abandoning the capitol?”

For once Alexander didn’t protest the ‘son’ part, instead starting up an verbal essay defending his actions that he had most likely written in his head while walking towards camp. Normally there would be eyerolls at his excessivetalking, but right now they couldn't be more glad to hear him rambling.

An Alexander who talked, was an Alexander who was safe.

#rr writing #hamilton #alexander hamilton #john laurens #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #george washington #schuykill river

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painted-piggy-ships-archive · 3 years

Text

Beetlejuice Rewrite 1

Non-romantic ship! Features; Edward and Lydia being step-siblings.

Word Count: 1302

Tag List: @heavenshipped @ghostlyvenus @the-schizotypal-cryptid @heartstringsymphonies

Summary: I’m going to attempt to rewrite some things from Beetlejuice with this new s/i in mind! First up; The Deetz move into the Maitlands’ house, and Lydia & Edward meet Barbra and Adam.

Warnings: None.

The Deetz’s car pulled up to an old, white house on a hill, a bit a ways from the main town.

“Well, we’re here,” Charles hummed, twisting in his seat to look at his daughter and stepson with a weary smile. Edward’s eyes were already focused on the tall tower of the place.

“I’m going to make my haven there,” he stated, gesturing to the small window at the highest point in the house. His stepfather followed his gaze, shrugging.

“Fine by me, Delia?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you’d like dear… but let’s see how much of a facelift the inside needs first,” Edward’s mother, a woman of haute couture and high standards, tittered as she exited the car. Charles followed, then the kids, one of which was no longer such. A work crew was already beginning to clean out the old furniture and move in everything the Deetz’s had brought with them. Edward glanced down at his petite stepsister.

“What do you think of it?” He asked, their parents already ahead of them, heading inside. Lydia shrugged, hidden behind a dark veil, camera in hand.

“I guess I could live here,” she looked Edward in the eye, “though I don’t think I’ll get to enjoy it in this state for very long.”

At this point, the two stepsiblings looked up as another car joined the fray. A portly man in a suit stepped out and headed straight for a window, not even bothering a friendly acknowledgment as he walked past.

“Well, c’mon. Do you want to walk around the grounds or head straight inside?” Edward offered.

“Let’s walk. I want to take some pictures before Delia destroys the place.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Lyds.”

~~~

By the time the two worked their way to the inside, Otho and Delia had made their plans obvious. Charles had at least managed to salvage an office for himself.

“Have you checked out the attic yet?” Edward asked.

“No, but feel free to go have a look for yourself, Eddie,” Delia smiled at her son. He was practically the only one she could somewhat hold her vicious temper with, possibly because she respected his artsy nature, even if he hadn’t found success in it yet.

“Alright,” he patted Lydia’s shoulder in a friendly manner before heading to the second floor to locate the attic stairs. Once he reached the door however, he found it locked. “Strange…”

He turned and headed back to his parents. “Either of you have a key to the attic?”

“It’s locked?” Delia responded, her tone a mix of shrill and intrigued. Edward nodded. Charles tossed him a skeleton key.

“That should open it.”

“Thanks.”

He returned to the attic door, this time accompanied by a curious Lydia, who had been snapping photos of the interior in a hope to salvage its rustic beauty before it’d be turned into an abstract art piece by her stepmother. He tried the key, but surprisingly the door wouldn’t budge.

The stepsiblings pressed their ears to the door, hearing something on the other side. A TV or radio, perhaps. They gave each other a look only they could understand. They got along well due to their shared interest in the supernatural and Gothic stylings, and they were both thinking the same thing; Ghosts?

Their shared thought was broken by the key flying from its hole. Edward immediately grinned.

“Maybe we ought to come up here again once everything’s settled down. Best show we mean no harm if there’s any entities here…”

“Maybe the ghosts of the people who lived here before us,” Lydia added and her stepbrother nodded, looking excited.

“I just hope they let us speak with them before they have a reason to hurt anyone.”

The two returned to the first floor.

“No luck with the door,” Edward returned the key.

“Really?” Charles inquired.

“It’s jammed. Or something’s blocking it.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to break in,” Delia piped up.

“No!” Lydia and Edward cautioned in unison, earning a confused look from their parents.

“I think we ought to just leave it alone for now,” Edward cleared his throat and straightened out his outfit, a nervous habit, “me and Lydia will just have to share a room.”

“Fine by me.”

Charles looked between the two, “well… I guess you two get along fine enough.”

“Great!” Edward chirped before his mother could give any reason why they shouldn’t hold off on renovating the attic. The stepsiblings shared another glance before going to get their own things and set up their own room.

~~~

Later that night, after a dinner of takeout and awkward conversation, Edward and Lydia heard odd… moans, and wails, coming from the hallway. Slowly, the two got up and opened their door, just a crack. After all, it could be ghosts, or it could be something they’d both much rather not see.

Their collective four eyes landed on stumbling sheets in the hallway, an obvious mockery of ghosts. Lydia grabbed her camera and threw open the door, snapping pictures.

“C’mon you guys, if your gonna do weird sexual stuff, do it in your own room… I’m a child, for gods’ sake,” she huffed. Edward stooped to pick up one of the polaroids that slipped from the camera, giving it a shake.

“Lyds, look,” he showed it to her eagerly. Glancing at the bottom of the picture, she noticed immediately that the figures had no feet. Curious, she began to approach them, Edward not far behind.

“Were you hiding in the attic earlier?” She asked. The sheets waved at her in an attempt at being eerie.

“We’re ghosts!” A man’s voice responded, and a woman howled to punctuate the sentence. Neither of the stepsiblings were very perturbed by their display.

“What do you look like under there?” Lydia asked, trying to peer into the holes cut in the sheets.

“Are you not scared??” The male ghost asked, stepping away.

“We’re not scared of sheets,” Edward chuckled, “though I am just as curious, if you don’t mind us asking-”

“Are you gross under there? Are you Night of The Living Dead under there, like… all bloody veins and pus?” Lydia excitedly made a grab for the sheets.

“Night of the living what???” The man asked, confused, both ghosts removing the sheets from their heads.

“Night of The Living Dead, it’s a movie,” Edward clarified. The two ghosts looked perfectly normal, perfectly living.

“If I had seen a ghost at your age I would’ve been scared out of my wits,” the woman added.

“You’re not gross… then why’re you wearing sheets??” Lydia continued.

“We’re practicing.”

“Wait a second… you can see us,” the man realized.

“Yeah, of course we can,” Edward responded curiously.

“Then how come the other’s can’t?”

“Well, I found that handbook earlier-” Lydia started.

“Handbook??” Edward interrupted.

“And it said that; ‘Live people often ignore the strange and unusual.’ I myself, am strange and unusual.” Lydia smiled triumphantly to herself.

“What handbook??” Edward spoke again.

“It’s on the bedside table, did you not notice it?”

Edward shook his head and went back to their shared bedroom, leaving Lydia to continue conversing with the ghosts.

“So you read our handbook… and you understood it?” The male ghost was fascinated by this discovery. Lydia shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“You could follow it???”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Edward can, too. We’ve got this… connection, even if we’re not related by blood. Anyway, what were you doing sneaking around in sheets??”

“We were trying to scare your mother.”

“Stepmother. You can’t scare her, she’s sleeping with Prince Valium tonight.”

Edward returned, pouring over the book and muttering about how interesting it was. The two were then invited up to the attic, these ghosts, the Maitlands, putting trust in them… after all, who else could they turn to in their state?

#familial f/o #clownie writes #self shipping #self shipping community #platonic f/os #🌻#☔#self insert

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Tie You Up

Sonny Carisi x Reader. Summary: You decide to spice things up with Sonny.

CW: NSFW - we gon’ get freaky with our Cannoli. This has language, bondage, spanking, orgasm denial, and role-play.

WC: 3595

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @amirightcounselor @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @dreila03 @mommakat32 @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarlettsoldier @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandblacktea @redlipstickandplaid @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @letty-o @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @trekinthruthestarwars @mishaissocoollike - anyone else just ask, xo

***

“Sonny, this is the fifth late night in a row,” you whined into the receiver. “I am starting to think you are purposely avoiding me.”

“Babe, you know it is not like that,” Sonny replied, rubbing his forehead. “I have this big case and this lawyer –”

“Buchanan,” you interrupted.

“Right, he takes no shit. He’s a formidable defense attorney. He used to give Barba lotta grief. I just want to make sure I have all my ducks in a row. I am still pretty green to all of this and I don’t want to give him any advantage.”

“I know; I am sorry to be giving you grief. I just … miss you,” you sighed, as you folded your laundry. “I’m lonely.” You waited a beat before continuing; your voice was a near whisper. “And horny.”

Sonny shifted in his seat, your words shooting straight down to his cock. “I know babe. I am too. I promise I will make it up to you. Tomorrow is Friday – we have opening statements and then I will be free for the whole weekend.”

“Okay,” you replied. “Come to my place. I’m working until noon and then taking a class until 3; we can get a head start to the weekend.”

“Oh, that’s right. How are ya classes?”

“Going really well. Learning a lot,” you replied. “See you soon.”

“Perfect. Love you doll.”

“Love you too. Good luck tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You and Sonny had an active, healthy sex life. Despite the busy schedules you both had - sometimes it felt as if you were passing ships - you both made sure to make each other a priority and regularly had sex.

What Sonny didn’t know was that after a night with your girlfriends where the talk steered into beyond 50 shades, your curiosity got the best of you and you became slightly infatuated with Kinbaku - Japanese bondage. Kinbaku involves tying someone using simple but intricate, gorgeous patterns using several pieces of rope, usually hemp or linen. The idea behind it is to use the rope as a symbol of power.

You had just finished your classes and became very proficient. The idea of tying Sonny up and having him completely at your mercy was titillating.

****

Despite being an ADA, Sonny was still, by nature a cop. So when he noticed the door to your apartment was ajar, inner alarms went off. He instinctively reached for his holster that was no longer there. “Y/N?” he called out. The apartment was pitch black and he cautiously turned on the lights.

What he saw surprised him.

There was an empty chair with a coil of red jute rope on the seat.

“Y/N?” he called out once more.

You cleared your throat, drawing attention to yourself. Sonny felt all the blood in his body drain and pool south. There you were, in Sonny’s dress blues – just the shirt, sans pants and a pair of black patent pumps. Your makeup was heavy – dark lined eyes and pouty red lips. Your hair was pulled back into a low chignon; it was all topped off with his service hat.

Sonny let out a whistle. “Y/N,” he rumbled your name, his tone dark. His bright blue eyes were filled with want and desire. “What is all of this?”

You ignored him as you circled around him, taking in his appearance. Sonny wore a fitted dark charcoal grey three piece suit with an orange speckled tie. His ass looked really good and you had to control yourself from just throwing him down and climbing on top of him (even if you could, you were petite in comparison).

“There was a complaint about marijuana from the neighbors. I had to come and do a search to see if there's any illicit contraband,” you replied seriously. You felt corny with your prepared dialogue and hoped Sonny would play along.

“I hope you have a warrant for that; I know my rights,” Sonny replied, stifling a chuckle as he began to remove his suit jacket.

“Uh-uh, keep your hands where I can see them,” you replied sternly. Sonny cocked a brow as he shrugged his jacket back on, his hands raised in front of his chest.

You helped him out of his jacket, tossing it on the couch. Sonny began to protest, knowing his jacket would wrinkle but you gave him a stern look which instantly quieted him. You then quietly began to roll up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

Sonny towered over you, being six feet tall. Yet from day one all you knew of him was as a gentle giant. You met while he was taking evening classes at Fordham - you literally fell into his arms on a very crowded 1 train that jerked to a stop after someone pulled the emergency cord. Your coffee spilled everywhere. At the time he was a 3L at Fordham Law and you were at nearby Fordham getting your advanced certificate in advanced faith formation and Christian spirituality.

After a few more causal run-ins on the subway – you always had a habit of getting on and off around the same spot on the platform (something Sonny later warned you to not do), Sonny asked you out for coffee. It was near instant love as he regaled you with stories of working for the 16th over napoleons and coffee and you challenged and piqued his mind on the complexities of faith, something that he struggled with given the nature of his work.

After you rolled up his sleeves, you stood on your tiptoes to press a small kiss to the corner of his lips. You removed the rope from the seat. “Take a seat,” you commanded, patting the empty chair. Sonny sat, his hand rested on his chin, his long fingers covered part of his mouth, which was twitching into a smile. He was eager to see how this all played out.

“I have a warrant – right here,” you replied unbuttoning your – well Sonny’s – shirt. Under his dress blues, you wore a sheer tulle embroidered bodysuit with a thong back and an open gusset. It was embroidered with marijuana leaves. You saw it hanging in the window display of a storefront near where you took your class; it was practically kismet. The embroidered leaves covered you strategically but left very little to the imagination.

Sonny felt his cock twitch as he drank you in; his pants became uncomfortably tight. “Oh my, be still my heart.”

You sat on Sonny’s lap and without hesitation, his hands were all over you. You pulled away, standing once more. “Oh no. You made me wait for almost a whole week. You can wait a little more.” Sonny knew he was in for a long night.

“Come on babe,” Sonny begged. “Please.” He was already incredibly turned on, his voice was stressed and it played out in his accent, the diphthong made the vowel in on, sound like awn.

“Nope, no can do,” you replied sweetly, your voice in sing-song. Gripping Sonny’s face, you kissed him passionately. You felt his cock harden underneath you. “Oh Sonny, why didn't you disclose you had a concealed carry? I'm going to need to restrain you.” And very quickly, before his brain even registered what was happening, you had his arms tied behind his back in “teppo” also known as shouldering the rifle.

“Y/N?” Sonny questioned, his heart beginning to race. “Whatcha playin’ at?”

You stood before Sonny and were pleased at your handiwork. “See, you thought I was taking a class on theology, but instead, I was taking a rope-play class. And I thought we could have a lot of fun with it,” you replied, shrugging off Sonny’s police shirt entirely. Sonny’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as your words registered. You sat on Sonny’s lap again and rubbed your self shamelessly, feeling his erection straining against his pants. Your eyes met and for an instant your resolve softened. “You trust me, right Sonny?”

Sonny detected the hesitancy in your voice. “I trust you. If it gets too much, I know our word. Gabagool.”

You smiled brightly in triumph before kissing him once more. Your tongues slid against each other; he tasted like mint and coffee. With each passing second, the kiss grew with intensity and need. You ran your hands through his silver hair as you continued to grind against his erection, eliciting repeated groans from him.

Sonny felt helpless as his hands were tied. He felt like he was a prisoner, which he suspected was the point. He was desperate for relief and his hips jerked instinctively. You responded by getting off of him.

“No,” Sonny whined. “I’ll stay still,” he promised. Come back.”

You dropped to your knees and spread Sonny’s legs so you were in between them. You ran your hands up his covered legs, before settling at his thighs. You scraped your nails against his thighs and you felt his muscles twitch. You fumbled with his pants, working to unbuckle his belt and unfasten the button and zipper. Sonny raised his hips slightly in an effort to help you so you could remove his pants.

You palmed his erection through his boxers. “Oh, that's not a gun at all!” you quipped with a smirk. Sonny threw his head back and moaned. “Fuck, y/n. That feels good.”

“Imagine how much better it would feel with my mouth on ya,” you commented, your brow cocked. Without missing a beat, you reached into his boxers and released his cock. His cock was painfully hard; pre-cum weeped from the tip. You licked your lips hungrily, desperate to suck his cock. You knew he was desperate too. Instead you spat in your hand and proceeded to give him a hand-job. “Ah fuck love,” Sonny rumbled. “Such a tease.”

“It must be so painful to have an attractive police officer like myself here, and you can't do anything about it,” you teased as your hand stroked him rhythmically. The dampness in between your legs grew and you could feel your arousal between your legs drip. You continued to work Sonny with your hand. Truly you took endless pride in knowing that you were the sole cause for him falling apart.

“Are you going to fuck me with this cock?”

“Yes,” Sonny hissed. His eyes were slammed shut, as he lost himself in the pleasure of your strokes.

“Then you better not come.”

Sonny’s eyes flew open as you removed your hand. You pushed over a chair and sat across from him. Sonny’s eyes were fixed on you as you removed your heels and spread your legs. He could see the large dark spot that had formed along the gusset of the bodysuit you wore and could smell the musky sweet scent that was distinctly yours. You spread your legs and gave Sonny an eyeful of your soaked pussy. You had recently gotten waxed, and your delicate skin glistened with your arousal. You slid a finger down your lips, before sliding a finger inside of you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you began to masturbate, your lips were parted slightly; your skin was flushed with feverish desire. Sonny’s eyes were fixated on your movements.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Sonny groaned. “I want to taste your pussy so badly.”

“We’ll see,” you sang. You scooted down on the chair, so that you were on the edge of the seat. Leaning back and gripping the edge of the chair on the sides, you raised your legs so that your feet were on his thighs. You knew from past experience with Sonny that he had a bit of a foot kink, so you made sure that your feet were well taken care of and that your toes were always well-dressed, with a not a chip in the polish in sight. Your feet were perpendicular on either side of his cock, and you began to move your feet in unison as you gave him a foot-job. Sonny’s head flew back once more, and he moaned your name loudly. “Oh God, fuck, Y/N!”

The muscles in your legs quivered as you continued to stroke his cock with your feet. Beads of sweat rolled down your face and your core trembled. It was as if you were having your own workout.

“Keep that up babe and I am going to come,” Sonny warned. You nodded and slowed your movements before coming to a full stop.

“I am going to remove the ropes,” you began. “Don’t try anything funny.” You sat up fully in the chair and removed Sonny’s hat, tossing it to the side. You reached behind and undid your chignon, letting your hair cascade over your shoulders.

Walking behind Sonny, you quickly undid the ropes. Sonny groaned as his arms resumed sensation from the position they were in as the lactic acid that had previously built up began to dissipate. Sonny quickly kicked off his shoes and the remainder of his clothing while you gathered the rope together once more.

Without warning, Sonny scooped you, throwing you over his shoulder. His hand came down on your ass with a large spank before grabbing a fistful of flesh, squeezing. “Sonny!” you squealed. “I told you not to-,” you began, warning. Another smack landed on your ass.

“Doll, you had your fun. Now it’s my turn,” Sonny replied huskily. Sonny carried you over to your bedroom, before throwing you gently over onto the bed. The bed creaked with Sonny’s weight. He covered his body with yours and kissed you once more. His hips rubbed against you and instinctively you raised your hips, desperate for some friction to ease the growing ache in your loins.

You wrapped your legs around Sonny’s waist eagerly. Sonny nuzzled your neck and you moved your head to the side to provide him with greater access. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot along your neckline and you moaned. Your eyes which had shuttered closed, opened and you saw the red rope on the bed and you deduced that Sonny had brought it in with him when he carried you in.

You used the palms of your hands to push Sonny’s weight off of you and rolled him into his back. Straddling him, you leaned over to grab the rope and quickly tied bound his wrists together and then bound his arms over his head using a simple column knot along the bedpost.

Sonny let out what sounded like a combination of a sob/groan. “No, no,” you commented. “Tonight’s about what I want… and what I want, is to suck your cock.”

You bent down and gently kissed Sonny before making your way down his body, placing kisses along his body.

Your lips were plush and soft; Sonny shivered under your kisses. Finally, you reached in between his legs and without missing a beat, or even waiting for him to say anything, you took him in your mouth. Sonny wanted nothing more to wrap his hands through your hair but he couldn’t. He tugged on the restraints hoping they’d give but you had him secured.

You rhythmically bobbed on his impressive shaft. His cock was painfully hard; the mix of his salty pre-cum and his own musky, masculine scent sent you into overdrive. As your mouth worked him, you used your hand to stroke the shaft, adding to his pleasure. Another hand went to his balls, cupping and rolling them gently. You hummed around his cock and the vibrations caused Sonny’s hips to jerk upwards in response. You continued your oral ministrations, using the flat of your tongue to run up and down the sides of his shaft. You then used the point of your tongue to flick against the underside of the head of his cock. You took your time, no rush to do anything more. Sonny groaned. “Oh fuck doll - need to -- need to --” he choked out.

You pulled off with a very audible, wet sounding pop. Sonny’s chest rose and fell, his heart was hammering in his chest. You moved to his side, and pressed small kisses by the corner of his mouth. Sonny was quivering, sweat dripping from every pore. Some of his hair was plastered against his forehead. “I love sucking your cock,” you purred in his ear. “Makes me so… wet.”

Sonny turned his head to kiss you deeply, which you obliged. As you kissed him, you reached down to his cock and resumed jerking him off. You could feel him starting to tense and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer so you slowly came to a stop.

You climbed on top of Sonny, and began to remove the halter top portion of your bodysuit. “Leave it on,” Sonny replied, his normally bright blue eyes were heavy lidded and blown with lust. “You look so fucking hot.”

You cocked your head and nodded, before rising up slightly to reach down and guide him inside of you. Sonny let out a string of curses in Italian as you sighed, blissfully feeling full. Languidly you began rocking and bouncing against him. Sonny grunted as your pussy gripped his cock tightly like a vice.

“Oh Dominick,” you moaned obscenely and loudly, not caring if your neighbors heard. “I fucking love your cock.” You knew from past experience calling Sonny by his name always gave him an extra oomph. Your head fell forward as you dug your nails into his chest, leaving crescent marks on his skin.

Sonny grunted as you rode his cock. He was desperate to touch you. It was driving him absolutely mad that he couldn’t. “Please,” he begged. “Baby girl I want to make you feel so good.”

You opened your eyes and met Sonny’s eyes. You nodded. “Okay.” Slowly you climbed off of Sonny and on very wobbly legs, loosened the rope. Sonny grimaced as his arms began to regain their function. Standing fully in front of you, Sonny drank you in once more. Your eyes raked Sonny from head to groin, and somehow seeing his cock coated in your cream made you even more aroused.

There was a glint in Sonny’s eyes and he gave you a very knowing smirk. You stood against the bed, waiting to see who would move next. Sonny did - he took one step and grabbed you by the outsides of your thighs. Before you knew it, you were flat on your back on the bed, your ankles hoisted in the air. Sonny stroked cock against your labia, coating his cock with more of your arousal. “Look how wet you are for me. Dimmi come ti piace scopare.” Sonny slowly sunk back into you, balls deep. The lewd mixture of moans and skin on skin filled the room as he pounded into you, bumping your cervix with each snap of his hips. Sonny turned his attention to one leg and pressed kisses before gently grazing your skin with his teeth.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you babbled incoherently. You reached down to rub your clitoris in concentric circles. Sonny looked down to watch his cock disappear in and out of you. He grunted as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. Your tits were straining against the bodysuit, the material provided delicate pressure against your sensitive nipples. You were completely wrecked as you were ravaged by Sonny.

Sonny all of a sudden dropped his full weight on top of you. His arms braced the side of your head and your legs hooked around his hips. You kept rubbing your clit while another hand gripped a bicep. Sonny bent his head to your ear and grunted something in Italian - “Scopami, si cosi mi piaci cosi” you weren’t sure what it was but it sounded sexy as hell. Sonny’s own thrusts became erratic and soon he stiffened - one hand grabbed at your clothed breast as he released his seed into you. “That’s right, give it to me baby, give me that cream.” It was all too much and the coil in your belly snapped. You wailed Sonny’s name as your pussy clenched around his cock. Sonny groaned your name, shuddering as his release came to an end. You both laid there, still intimately connected, desperately trying to catch your own respective breaths. Your legs felt like jello and slowly you brought them back to the bed.

Your eyes felt hazy and you were ready to drift back to sleep, when you felt your legs spread open once more. Sonny was in between your legs. “I want one more,” he rasped and before you could protest, his tongue was in between your folds. You threw your head back onto the bed, groaning as his tongue did indescribable, wonderful, magical things. You gripped his head tightly against you. Your body was overstimulated yet, you were in dire need to come again. Sonny reveled in the mix of your sweet juices and his own release. “You gonna come again for me sweet girl? Sborrami in faccia.” Sonny dove back into your folds, eating you out as if he was a starving man. You sobbed, writhing against his tongue and nose as another orgasm coursed through you. Sonny continued to lick you through your release until you finally stopped shuddering. Sonny peppered kisses along your skin, before cozying up next to you once more. You turned over to face Sonny and you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I love you Sonny.” A goofy, sleepy smile graced his face.

Holding you close, he whispered “I love you Y/N. Cazzo e stato incredible. Facciamolo ancora.”

FIN.

***

Translations:

Dimmi come te piaci scopare: tell me how you like it.

Si cosi mi piaci, cosi: Omg, you feel so good

Scopami: Fuck me.

That was amazing: Cazzo e stato incredible.

Let’s do it again: Facciamolo ancora,

#sonny carisi x reader #carisi x reader #carisi and reader #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi and reader #sonny carisi imagine

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muselexum · 3 years

Text

[ Meet Lily ]

[ Character represents concepts such as binge and restrictive eating disorder cycles, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. Backstory contains cannibalism. If these topics are triggering, block #LILY ( general tag. ) to avoid all content. ]

BASIC INFO

Name: Leclair, Liliana Lily

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Occupation: Pastry chef (former), Heart Pirate

Bounty: 14, 000, 000 (bounty photo depicts her full zoan form)

Alignment: Lawful Good

Skills: Baking, cooking

Devil Fruit: Zoan type – Yaju-Yaju no mi: [Model Wendigo]

APPEARANCE

Height: 5'2" (158cm) Body Type: Very petite Hair Colour: Cool blonde Eye Colour: Amethyst Skin Tone: Very pale Notable Features: With her large doe eyes, long silky hair, and her frame that consists mostly of legs, Lily looks much like a living porcelain doll. She’s soft-spoken and polite. While she’s always liked to dress soft and cute from a young age, fashion is a rare treat in recent years as she's usually seen wearing the Heart Pirate's boiler suit.

PERSONALITY

Gentle and kind at heart, Lily is the exact opposite of the vicious abilities she’d been bestowed. She yearns for connections with people, whether she’s daydreaming about telling secrets with a friend or going on a romantic date with a love interest, Lily desires to know others. She wants to make friends, but the beast she feels that resides within her craves the exact opposite. She’s in a constant battle of her good nature versus the impulses she feels that her devil fruit pushes on her. Her intense hunger, which is a genetic alteration due to her devil fruit, challenges her kind nature. When she is hungry, she feels extremely panicked about losing control and acts volatile.

Due to her devil fruit and the trauma it’s caused her in the past, Lily can be a very hesitant, sad, and lonesome individual. She’s very much afraid of losing control, and this fear can play a big factor into how she behaves around others and in certain situations.

TRAITS

• caring • gentle • good natured • quiet • anxious • compulsive • dissonant

BRIEF HISTORY

Lily lived a fairly ordinary life for the better half of sixteen years. She was raised on a picturesque northern village, helping out in her family’s bakery during her teens. It was there where she began to learn how to cook and bake, specializing in sweet treats but also capable of making some savoury items like pretzels and meat pies. She was the younger of two sisters so she wouldn’t be the one to inherit the family business. Nonetheless, she enjoyed her time in the shop and speaking to the customers that would stop by.

On her seventeenth year, she was out walking along the forest trails during the changing of seasons. While still cold and windy, the snow was melting a bit and the forest shrubbery was beginning to peek through.

During her walk she came across an icy-blue pomegranate with swirls along its skin, hanging low on a tree. Curious by its unique look, Lily picked the fruit and cracked it open, eating one of the seeds. She bit it, but before she could really register the awful taste, she had already swallowed the seed’s juice.

Disgusted and left with an uncomfortable taste in her mouth, Lily buried the fruit in the snow to make sure no other villager would come across the vile thing.

Nothing was too unusual for the first several hours after returning home. However it was at night when she began to realize something was wrong. Despite eating dinner just a few hours earlier, her stomach curled in hunger pains so unbearable that they drowned everything else out.

She vaguely remembered raiding the fridge in a frenzy during the middle of the night, but other than that… nothing. She would return to consciousness in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun was rising. To her horror, the nightmarish sight of blood and body parts splattered across the main floor left her in shock, in denial that this mess could be her family. Yet, a part of her knew, the part of her that couldn’t ignore the blood covering her face and hands.

After a year of being a stowaway on ships and being an independent wanderer, Lily had crossed paths with the Heart Pirates. She had been found in half-beast form during one of her lapses, ravaging their food supply before Law had immobilized her with his abilities.

She came to with her body being separated into multiple pieces. After a round of questioning on who and what she was, the captain perhaps thought he could use her abilities to his benefit. Not only that, but the concept of a devil fruit controlling its user was an usual discovery he wanted to do further research on.

Lily, despite her initial wariness of becoming too close to other people in fear she might harm them, warmed up to the crew more easily than expected. It started with her cooking meals and baking out of her own volition (pastries the captain never partook in much to her dismay), and the more her good-nature showed, the more the majority of the crew became accustomed to her presence on the sub.

[ full character page ]

#FOR ALL ( ooc. )#LILY ( general tag. )#the history is brief to me... TO ME

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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Treasure- Part 5

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Kim Hongjoong (Ateez)

Genre: Fantasy AU, Pirate AU

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ pastel-crystals @ purpleprincesslea @ x-lilyofthevalley-x @ baekxhwa @ bootysand @ suju-hit-me-like-a-wreckingball @ yunderfullthings @ dreamshopesforward @ kiara-reighns @ fivesecondsofsarang @ speedilyunadulteratedcandy @ sansugar @ xxhzxqhxx @ erica-kay @ teeztheflag @jacksonbbygal @ small-frye

Hongjoong’s eyes are deeper than the sea, and if I wasn’t careful, I could easily drown myself in those enchanting pools of black. But his eyes were also impossible to resist, which meant that the likelihood of breaking contact with such an impenetrable gaze spared me no favors. Nonetheless, I was perfectly content waking up next to the Captain, smiling without care as his fingers made gentle consternation of the freckles speckled across my skin. “You’re beautiful like this, love,” he said. “I want to remember everything.”

“Well, let’s just stay like this longer,” I suggested, gravitating to the irresistible pull of Hongjoong’s welcoming embrace. My hands followed the steady indentations of his muscled abdomen, pausing just shy of the faint line of pubic hair leading south. “You promised to keep me for yourself.”

“I meant it,” Hongjoong said, strawberry hair falling elegantly across his forehead. “You understand?”

I nodded, closing my eyes when his arm tightened its hold around my waist. The atmosphere was content, sharing our body temperatures beneath the shelter of his bedsheets. “It feels warmer outside.”

“Tropical waters,” Hongjoong slurred, brushing his nose against mine. “There’s something I need to do this morning on the main deck, but I want you to stay here and rest for me.”

I whined, holding his arm with a vice-like grip. “Don’t leave me.”

Hongjoong chuckled endearingly; he wrestled his limbs free despite my protests. “We’re landing soon, love. I’ll find you later.”

“Okay,” I relented because I knew he was being serious, watching him move to the edge of the bed to quickly re-dress in the clothes scattered amongst the floor.

“We made such a mess,” Hongjoong said fondly. “I’ll never forget last night.” He now stood erect, watching me with a searching gaze. “Behave for me, love.”

I nodded, pulling the sheets closer to my body. “You’ll come back soon, right?”

“Of course,” he said, but there was a slight hesitation that I chose to ignore, allowing my exhaustion from last night’s exercises to placate my desire for the soothing effects of sleep.

The island was quaint, even from a distance, showered in sunlight and painted attractively in the green foliage defining the palm trees. I stood next to Hongjoong who was currently navigating the ship, elegant fingers maintaining a firm grip around the wheel. The rest of the crew was preparing for our landing, scattered about the main desk to attend to their various duties. It was crowded and busy, an atmosphere that I had grown fond of during my tenure on the ship. There was an inherent appreciation for the intricacies involved in piracy that I never expected to share. However, it was still always the promise of freedom that kept me perfectly happy with my situation, especially now that Hongjoong and his fabled pirate crew were more comfortable with my presence.

It was seemingly permanent at this point in time, and I took great aims to help where I could with daily chores and responsibilities. Of course, when the crew spent time together in the evening to play games, I was one of the first to shuffle the cards. Or, whenever Yunho needed help in the kitchens, I was always glad to assist him while enjoying the aroma of his combined ingredients simmering in the giant pots on the woodfire stove.

Ultimately, time spent with Hongjoong was my favorite because the Captain was perfectly amiable whenever he was willing to open himself up for scrutiny. Despite his private nature, Hongjoong loved to share stories of his past with me, secrets that I’m sure the rest of his crew had never heard slip through his lips during their countless journeys together. I was honored that he trusted me because there was a time before this enchanting adventure where I was certain that the Captain hated my presence. However, he made sure to clear the air one sincere evening, telling me that he had always been intrigued by my mysterious nature from the very beginning. “When it comes to complicated feelings,” Hongjoong explained, “I have a tendency to lash out, and that wasn’t fair to you, love.”

I forgave him immediately, but Hongjoong almost seemed haunted by my apologies. Instead, he preferred to shower me with frequent displays of affection to remedy his mistakes, even if it meant something as menial as a chaste kiss or brief contact between our fingers in passing. He was a complicated figure with a burdensome past, but I found myself falling desperately in love with the Captain who had shown me, for the first time in my life, what it felt like to embrace the freeing qualities of the endless ocean; the vast horizons promising new lands on distant shores while also savoring the company of a gangly crew of ruthless pirates.

“You’re deep in thought, love,” Hongjoong remarked, summoning me from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I said, leaning against him from behind. “Are we close?”

“After we cast anchor,” Hongjoong said. “We have some business on the island.”

It was a vague explanation, but I knew that I would eventually find out for myself. “Am I coming?”

“Of course,” he smiled, brushing a kiss to my lips. “I need you to be there.”

I liked the fact that Hongjoong needed me, resisting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl because of his affectionate gaze. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew was preparing the boats to arrive onshore. It was a tedious affair, and I tried to offer my help to San and Wooyoung who were busy arguing over whether or not Yunho was capable of steering one of the boats by himself. Their arguments often turned petty, and I knew it was wise to keep your opinions to a minimum because it might upset Wooyoung or ignite San’s fierce temper.

The sun was directly above the ship when our landing crew was finally directing the boats to the island. I sat next to Hongjoong, shivering a little from the wind which the Captain immediately noticed as he wrapped an extra blanket around my petite shoulders; a delicate smile was offered in response, shifting closer to his comforting form.

“Do you like it?” Hongjoong asked, nodding at the island behind us.

I nodded enthusiastically. “I think it seems nice.”

“Mingi keeps something important here,” he whispered in a tone that was nothing short of conspiratorial. “It’s very safe.”

“You make me feel safe,” I told him fondly, missing the way his features briefly tensed as I snuggled deeper into his arms.

It took nearly half an hour to row the collection of boats onto the shoreline. I followed Hongjoong as he waded ankle-deep in the salty ocean water, grateful to the sun which dried the bottom of my pants once we reached the security of the sandy beach. The island smelled distinctly of something exotic, reminding me faintly of my former home. “Are you tired, love?” Hongjoong asked me sweetly and I shook my head despite the exhausted fluttering of my eyelids.

He chuckled in response, holding me tighter as he took the advantageous lead into the surrounding jungle. It was apparent that Hongjoong and his crew had been on the island before, especially if Mingi kept something important amongst those powerful trees. We walked diligently without the assistance of a map and compass, passing along faded paths which led deeper into the vegetation prospering under the favorable conditions of the island.

Finally, I noticed a small house in the distance, quaint and humble in its size and structure. “We’re here,” Hongjoong said, and it was the only verbal confirmation Mingi needed before he was pushing ahead of the others. “He’s excited,” Hongjoong explained in response to Mingi’s impatient movements.

The door to the house opened suddenly and without any warning to alert the rest of the crew. I let out a gentle gasp when I noticed a woman standing there, arms hanging loosely by her sides as her pretty eyes surveyed our disheveled group. She finally lingered on Mingi who was determined to reach the entrance; the young woman met him halfway across the well-kept yard with equal enthusiasm. Her arms secured themselves around his neck, holding tightly to the messy strands of his hair that had nearly grown past his shoulders. The two were sharing kind words when Hongjoong offered a timid greeting. “Hello, Sarah.”

The girl finally tore her gaze from Mingi’s, smiling brightly for the rest of us. “Welcome back,” she said before turning her attention to me. “I don’t think we’ve met before. My name is Sarah.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Mingi held tighter to the smaller woman. “This is my sister.”

I was surprised, shifting my gaze back and forth between Mingi and this friendly stranger, realizing the similarities in their features. “I didn’t know Mingi had a sister.”

“He’s very secretive,” Sarah grinned. “Let’s talk more inside.”

“Come on, love,” Hongjoong encouraged me with a soft hand on my lower back for guidance.

The house was remarkably spacious, easily accommodating the crew members who made themselves comfortable as if they had been here many times before. It was an interesting dynamic when it came to Hongjoong and his pirates; one could easily forget that these men murdered and plundered in their quest to conquer the seven seas.

“It’s nice to have another female around for company,” Sarah said to me while we prepared drinks in the kitchen. “The way Hongjoong talks about you is nothing short of affectionate.”

I smiled. “Have you never seen him like this before?”

“Hongjoong has never acted this way about another girl,” she replied. “I think you’re very special.”

Sarah’s kind words stretched my smile even further, and I was far more exuberant than usual when I served the other boys with fresh drinks and snacks. Afterward, I allowed Hongjoong to drag me down onto his lap, listening to the other boys talk about our adventures to an eager Sarah; she listened with remarkable patience considering the way everyone tried to speak over one another. It was amusing to observe, and I began to notice that the sun had vanished from the sky to allow the moon a chance to glimmer above the enchanting tides. The conversation continued sporadically as a cheerful atmosphere descended over the crew, and even Mingi was polite, describing my character to his sister with more respect than I ever thought possible from the tsundere male.

Eventually, Hongjoong quietly dismissed the two of us in exchange for the quiet sanctuary of a temporary bedroom assigned as our quarters for the evening. Nobody really paid us much attention, too involved with their ridiculous teasing and an insane amount of alcohol consumption. I was almost grateful to leave the noise, keeping my hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s because he was everything I preferred to end the solace of our day on the island.

I collapsed on top of the bed, stretching out my limbs while I watched him open the closet. “What are you doing?”

“A surprise,” he said, pulling a box from the top shelf.

It was nothing impressive, faded brown color turning almost black in the pale moonlight streaming in from the window. The intricate designs around the bottom had worn away with the passage of time. Still, I schooled my expression when he sat next to me with a heavy sigh. “Is this for me?”

He nodded. “Inside is something very important.”

“Really?” I asked, noting the hesitance written across his countenance. “You seem nervous.”

“Because it’s my heart,” he said, and I figured it was metaphorical until he offered more elaboration. “When I first became Captain of the Treasure, I decided it was better to remove it because it was too risky when my enemies were constantly swarming for my blood.”

I was stunned by his declaration, robotically accepting the box from his hands. “Is it even possible?”

“Look for yourself,” Hongjoong said, gaze unreadable.

Cautiously, I removed the lid before allowing myself a brief glimpse inside. “Impossible,” I breathed, perfectly morbid as I saw the delicate muscles clenching with a rhythmic harmony, echoing against the tiny walls of its keepsake. It was truly a human heart, dripping with a violent red, and contracting to match the calm demeanor of its owner sitting next to me. I abruptly lifted a spare hand, touching my fingers against his chest; I gasped when I realized that I was indeed coming to fruition with an unexpected situation. “How can this be?”

“Magic,” Hongjoong said. “I made a deal with a witch.”

“Why?”

“I thought it was better to protect myself,” Hongjoong explained. “When I’m faced with an enemy, I cannot be deterred by the possibility of death.”

“But...how can you feel anything?”

“Oh, I feel everything, love,” Hongjoong said. “I’m capable of sadness or happiness just the same as everyone else.”

“What sort of magic can accomplish this?”

“A very powerful spell,” Hongjoong said. “In return, I offered my services to this witch and she demanded that I kill her son because of his betrayal.”

I shivered at the story. “I thought I knew everything about you.”

“Don’t be discouraged love, there are very few people in this world who know about this secret.”

“Why are you showing this to me?”

“Because it belongs to you,” Hongjoong said with a sad smile. “Whenever you truly need me, I’ll always find you.”

His words were confusing. “I think you mean if we’re ever separated.”

Hongjoong chuckled, eyes downcast as he nodded his head. “I don’t wish to be parted from you.”

“There’s no need to worry,” I reassured him. “I have no intention of leaving your side.”

“Truly?” he sighed, pulling me in close by the back of my neck to press his lips against mine. “I love you, Y/N. Please never forget that.”

“I won’t,” I promised, leaning my head against his chest. “Are you tired?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s been a long day.”

He settled down against the mattress, holding me in his arms until we were both comfortably positioned. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course, love,” he murmured. “Let’s get some sleep.”

My tired eyes could hardly offer protest, swallowed by the darkness inviting beautiful dreams of Hongjoong and the heart I held in my hands.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I realized with a start that Hongjoong was missing from where we had embraced the night before, and I carefully removed myself from the tangled mess of bedsheets. My feet met the floor, padding gently against the tiles as I opened the door to greet the unexpected quiet from the hallway.

A flicker of unease settled at the base of my stomach, driving my movements as I walked into the living room. I saw Sarah sitting on the couch, teacup in hand as she flipped through one of the magazines Mingi had brought her as a gift from yesterday’s arrival. “Sarah?”

The younger girl turned around to meet my gaze. “Good morning, Y/N.”

My heart was pounding. “Where are they?”

Sarah glanced wordlessly out the window. “I don’t think pirates were ever meant to stay on land for very long.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, stuttering over my words as I rushed for the door. “I’m still here.”

Sarah’s eyes were sad, falling to the floor in shame. “I wasn’t allowed to tell you, Y/N. Hongjoong insisted.”

I froze in the doorway. “He left me on purpose.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “Hongjoong told me that they were planning to sail for British waters to confront the Royal Navy. He couldn’t stand the thought of something bad happening to you in the heat of battle.”

“He’s gone,” I whispered, supporting my weight against the frame; I turned around to look out into the forest, listening to the barely perceivable sounds of the waves washing against the rocky shoreline. But there was nothing else, and I had never felt more alone. “He left me,” I repeated around a cry because there was a painful grip squeezing my heart.

Sarah was embracing me from behind, but her touch was cold and unfeeling. It wasn’t the same as Hongjoong’s, and he was the only one who could possibly rectify the soulful cry screaming from somewhere deep inside; I could barely breathe, ignoring the harsh glare of the sun as imagined watching the Treasure disappear against the horizon.

8 Months Later

A routine was necessary, occupying my attention on menial tasks and simple duties around the house. Sarah was accepting of my help, seamlessly incorporating me into her life with relative ease. I learned how to manage our living conditions; minding the garden in the backyard or fetching clean water from the small creek that ran through the middle of the jungle. We cleaned together at the end of every week, ensuring the house was well-maintained and comfortable. During the night, we often play games together or shared stories from our past before our new life on the island.

It was nice, I suppose, since I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. Yet, at the same time, there was something missing from my everyday life that often left me feeling incomplete; and my freedom on the island was incomparable to my experiences on the ocean sailing with the wind at my back. Because living on the island was tame in comparison to my previous experiences, and there were days when I felt completely unmotivated, choosing to stay in bed while my mind was bored.

A few weeks after Hongjoong first left the island, I started to feel sick in the mornings. I would rush to the bathroom, worrying Sarah who was unable to help me with her herbs and medicines. Eventually, my rapid weight gain alerted us to my unanticipated pregnancy which explained my sickness and the discomfort in my stomach. I was practically beaming with excitement when Sarah first proposed her theory, but then I thought about Hongjoong and felt increasingly melancholic as I realized he may never come back for me.

“They always return,” Sarah told me. “It depends on where they are.”

Her words were comforting, and I spent some days waiting along the beach for the familiar sails of the Treasure to breach the line between the sky and ocean. When I fell asleep, I often dreamed of Hongjoong’s return, waking up the next morning to study the box he had given me situated on top of my nightstand. It served as a reminder that the man who trusted me with his most valuable possession would return whenever I needed him most; of course, I often felt like I needed Hongjoong all the time, holding the box close to my chest as I talked about something interesting that happened to me during the daytime.

In any case, nothing could change my habits. Because every morning, I thought about my unborn child and its father who was somewhere far away fighting a dangerous enemy. I would look out the window while holding my bloated abdomen, anticipating his inevitable return. “You must come back for us,” I whispered, closing my eyes and thinking about his gorgeous smile.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong #hongjoong imagines

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mortemersgf · 4 years

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dangerous waters

distant shores: oliver x f!mc and edward mortemer x f!mc (jade hearst)

summary: jade puts her relationship with oliver at risk when she rescues edward and henry.

warnings: violence (threats)

tags: @crazynutella @princess-geek @bitchloveskcbaseball

‼️ PLEASE SIGN THIS PETITION DEMANDING JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD‼️ Justice for George Floyd

Jade moans in pain, curling herself into a ball. Her stomach aches so much it hurts to breathe. She was knocked out cold when the soldiers tossed her in the room. Her arms and legs are tied together with thick ropes, and if that isn’t enough, her eyes and mouth are secured with bandanas. Deprived of sight and speech, Jade focuses on her hearing.

It’s eerily quiet where she is. There’s no muffled voices or shuffling footsteps outside her door. Jade can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not. She could either be guarded heavily by skilled soldiers, who don’t move or breathe or speak, or someone has left her in an abandoned part of the ship where no one ever drops by. Either way, she’s not liking it. It smells of damp wood and sawdust where she’s at, making her nose wrinkle with distaste. Jade suddenly misses the smell of Henry’s cooking and Charlie’s rum.

With a deep breath, she grunts and pushes herself up into a sitting position. She begins to scoot along the wooden floorboards in her bindings, making sure to stick close to the wall so she can feel for a door. Her stomach twinges with pain as she moves. Every couple of seconds, she has to stop to take a breath. Everything is going to be fine. Charlie is going to come soon. The crew is more than capable of rescuing us, she tells herself.

Jade pauses and tugs at her mouth restraint using her shoulder and cheek but to no avail. With a frustrated sigh, she relaxes against the ship’s wall and inhales deeply. I’ve got to find Edward. For all I know, they’ve let him bleed to death already.

Just when she’s about to scoot again, she hears the sound of boots clicking against wood. It seems to grow louder and louder by the second.

“Nrrngg! Mrmm!” Jade murmurs. She erratically stomps her boots, hoping whoever is out there is kind enough to pop in and relieve her of her restraints. The ropes are starting to dig into her skin, but as as soon as the thought arises, it vanishes. She sighs. Please. They are not going to spare me a glance. They’ll probably add more ropes. So she slumps against the wall again, counting down the days until Charlie and the rest of the crew bust in and sweep her, Henry, and Edward back onto the Revenge.

The clicking stops. There’s the sound of wood creaking and a door swinging open. A small gust of wind follows after.

“Nhhmg?” Jade straightens up against the wall. Her hands ball up into fists, alert.

“Ah, here you are,” someone with a familiar British accent says. “I was looking all over for you.”

Oliver!

She catches the faint smell pinewood as his arms brush against her cheeks, working away to undo her bindings.

“Nmhhph—ha… Oliver!” Finally free of restraints, Jade takes a couple of deep breaths and grabs at her red wrists. Her jaw feels cramped and her head aches with dull throbs.

The pain feels familiar. It reminds her vaguely of how she feels after her classmates plummet her with accidental punches and slaps to the face in stage-fighting class. Though usually she’d be tucked in bed under her soft covers with an ice pack pressed to her cheek by now.

She winces and looks up at Oliver.

He’s in his uniform, his sword sitting by his hip. Seeing the blade evokes the memory of him thrusting it into Edward’s shoulder, prying out a cry of pain from the captain. It makes Jade rigid with fury, but she blinks, forcing herself to shove the recollection into the depths of her mind.

Oliver gives her a lopsided smile as he untie the ropes that bind her legs together. The man before her seems so different now. She doesn't know if she can ever see him the same again, and she doesn’t know if she wants to.

He’s acting as if nothing happened, and that angers Jade. The same hands that are untying me are also the ones that hurt Edward. Do not forget that. She feels the onset of hot tears pooling in her eyes and lets out a frustrated huff. Tentatively, in a small voice, she asks, “Where is he?”

Oliver stiffens for a slight moment before saying, “One would usually say ‘thank you’ when someone does them a favor, but because it’s you… I’ll make an exception.”

He drops the thick ropes, the smile on his face fading away when he sees the cold look on Jade’s face. She has to physically stop herself from bursting into laughter at what he said.

“You want me to thank you for releasing me? Should I also thank you for stabbing my captain? Keeping me captive in this room for who knows how long? Letting your men kick and punch me in the stomach so hard it hurts to breathe? Because in that case, thank you. Thank you very much, Oli—no, Lieutenant.” Jade spits.

She pours all the hurt, all the betrayal she feels into the words, hoping Oliver realizes that what he did is unforgivable. She stands, ignoring the way his face crumples into an apologetic look.

Oliver takes a step closer, his fingers brushing against her jawline. With a small sigh, he pulls away and drops his hand. “Jade, I… I apologize deeply for everything. I wasn’t aware they treated you so awfully. I will reprimand them all. Harshly”—he taps the hilt of his sword—“With a sword, if you’d like.”

“It’s not going to change anything, so forget it.” Jade mutters.

She wants to thank him and kick him at the same time, so she does neither, choosing to stretch out her limbs instead. It’s been hours, maybe a day, since she was thrown into the little, dark room. She can’t remember. Time is hard to keep track of when the only thing she can think of is Edward’s well being.

Jade surveys her surroundings, trying to find the best way out. Her hand drifts down to her side where her sword and pistol should be. And of course, they got confiscated. She mutters a curse under her breath.

Oliver watches her move. He takes note of the way her eyes flit to the door every now and then and discreetly steps in front of her, blocking her from the exit. He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly on edge.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asks, his voice low.

Jade shifts her gaze to him. She stares at him for a long moment before shaking her head and saying, “We’re not going to do this right now, Oliver.”

“I told you I was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy that night, but you didn’t mention a thing about you and Captain Mortemer being friends. Or on the same crew, for that matter.”

“Because I’m loyal to him! Edward—”

“Edward? I see the two of you are friendlier than I expected.” The jealousy in his voice is thick.

Jade heaves a deep sigh, not wanting to continue the conversation. There’s no point.

Oliver, however, starts to pace around, nodding to himself. Finally, he stops and looks at her, a sharp look in his eye. “He’s a pirate.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jade scowls. “Why do you care? You didn’t even acknowledge me when I first appeared on your ship.”

“I had to capture Edward.”

“By stabbing him when he’s distracted because you know you can’t beat him?”

A hurt look flashes across Oliver’s face before he conceals it with a humorless laugh. “It was a dishonorable move, but had there been any other way, I would’ve taken it. I don’t understand why—”

“You don’t need to,” Jade snaps, cutting him off.

An uncomfortable silence settles between them. The sunlight that floods through the window behind her highlights the dust that’s floating around. It captures her attention. The specks land on the ground, her shoes, and the sacks of potatoes in the corner of the room. It’s everywhere. Jade focuses on everything else instead of the man standing in front of her.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to tell me where Edward is,” she says, breaking the quiet.

Oliver refuses to meet Jade’s gaze, looking pointedly away. “No, I’m following orders.”

“Can you at least tell me what you’re planning to do with him?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can tell me,” Jade coaxes, taking a step towards him. “I’m only one person. I can’t take down dozens of armed men on my own.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You seem like you’re capable of many things.” Oliver speaks coolly, a cold glint in his eyes. The Oliver from the tavern, the one laughing and shielding her from the navy officers, feels like a figment of her imagination now.

Jade’s hands involuntarily curl up into fists. This is it. I can’t take him down, but I know—I hope he’s not going to hurt me.

He adjusts his hat, turning away to leave.

“Taking down the Royal Navy is going to be one of them,” Jade blurts, “so step aside because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oliver stops in his tracks. He turns around, jaw set. But his voice is soft as he speaks. There’s a hint of remorse in his gaze. “Nor I, Jade.”

Jade opens her mouth to retort but stops short when she notices shadows passing behind her. She spins around upon hearing the clanging of metal and gruff voices speaking quickly, tiptoeing a bit in order to look out the window. What she sees makes her stomach churn with dread.

Henry is getting shoved along by two soldiers. They force him to his knees next to a bloodied Edward, who’s leaned against a pole and shackled with chains.

“What’s going on? What’s happening to them?” Jade demands. She faces Oliver, eyes wide.

“Admiral’s orders,” he says, “Captain Mortemer and the other man are to be publicly executed in London. They’re taking the boat home.”

“Are you here to escort me, then? Am I joining them?”

“No. No, you’re… staying here.”

“Staying here,” Jade repeats. She narrows her eyes. “How did that come to be?”

Oliver swallows, visibly unsettled. He casts a look at the ground before opening his mouth to explain. “It’s selfish of me, but I couldn’t bear letting you die for something you had no part in, so I—”

“Stop.” Jade cuts him off before he can say anything else. She leans over, clutching her aching stomach. She hasn’t eaten, but she thinks she’s going to hurl. This can’t be happening. “Can I…” Her voice cracks. She digs her teeth into her lower lip and takes a deep breath.

“Can I at least say goodbye?” she asks, her voice steadier.

Without waiting for an answer, she pushes her hair back and brushes past Oliver. Jade flings the door open, sprinting down the hallway onto the main deck. An absurd plan forms in her head as she screams for the crewmen to stop. Oliver trails after her. He doesn’t hear it, but she mumbles, “Sorry.”

Outraged soldiers cry out with irritation as Jade squeezes past them, shoving away crewmen who’re handling Edward too roughly. One of them grabs her by the arm, but Oliver halts him with a glare.

“Miss Hearst,” Edward breathes. He moves his chained arms, longing to run his hands through her hair and caress her cheek. Jade holds his face in her hands gently, pressing her forehead against his. Their chests rise up and down with relieved breaths seeing each other alive.

“I’m here, Edward. Everything’s going to be okay,” Jade whispers. “I… I have a plan. Just trust me, okay? I’m not going to let them take you away.” She pushes his matted hair back, her touch light and careful. Blood and dirt soak his tattered clothes but even then, he looks handsome.

Please, please, please, please… Jade knows exactly what she’s praying for. A miracle. She wishes all of their pistols are empty of bullets. She wishes their blades are dull. She wishes a mutiny would erupt right now. She wishes Oliver would call the whole thing off. She wishes she has more time.

Edward shakes his head, his face twisting into one of pain and worry. He grunts as a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder. With gritted teeth, he mutters, “Don’t do it. Don’t risk your life for me.”

“I told you back at Tiburon that I’d be very upset if something happened to you, so I’m doing this. I can’t let you die.” Jade mumbles.

Her thumbs are growing numb with fear as she rubs slow circles into Edward’s skin. She brushes her nose against his, angling her head until her lips fit his. She tastes copper from his blood as she kisses him. With a shaky sigh, she pulls away just far enough to take in the pained expression on his face. She presses another kiss to his lips, harder this time. Edward groans, leaning forward so their chests are flush against each other.

“This is not how I imagined our first kiss to happen,” Jade says, breathless.

“Aye, me neither…” Edward chuckles bitterly.

Oliver clears his throat. He stands there, stiff as a log, as he watches the two. When Jade looks at him, all she sees is a stony faced lieutenant who looks like he’s about to lose his patience any moment. She decides then, that the Oliver from the tavern was indeed a figment of her imagination. It’s easier this way.

“It’s time,” he says.

Jade nods, pulling away from Edward with a sniff. She glances at Henry. “Are you okay?”

“Aye, lass. They bandaged Captain’s wound but shackled him up like he’s a thief. Buncha scurvy dogs.” he says. Henry looks up at one of the navy officers and spits at him, earning a repulsed yelp from the officer.

Jade rises, giving Oliver a pleading look. He tentatively lays a hand on her shoulder, saying, “I’m sorry it has to end this way.”

“Oliver,” Jade says, burying herself in his chest. Her hands skim down his sides. “I’m so sorry.”

She unsheathes his sword, swinging it around until it’s pressing against his neck. Her grip on the hilt is so tight her knuckles are white, and her nails dig into her palm. Nevertheless, she stands tall and keeps her other hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

Oliver’s crewmen dart forward, but Jade takes a couple of steps back, pulling the lieutenant tight against her body. “Take another step and your esteemed lieutenant is gonna get hurt. Very. Badly.”

They stop in their tracks and look to Oliver for instructions. His breaths are shallow, and he speaks slowly, “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Release Edward and Henry, and I promise you I won’t.” Jade cocks her head at the officers who were about to load the them onto the boat, saying, “You heard me.”

They make quick work of freeing the two men of their restraints before scrambling away. Jade lets out a small sigh as she watches Henry prepare to launch the boat.

Edward grimaces, touching his wound. “Drop the sword, Miss Hearst.”

She drops her hand to her side but keeps her hand wrapped around the handle.

A navy officer sprints forward with a yell but Oliver growls, “Stand down.”

He spins around, snarling, “But Lieutenant—”

“I said. Stand. Down.” Oliver’s voice shakes as the last two words leave his lips. Something along the lines of rage and helplessness fill his eyes as he watches Edward wrap Jade into a tight embrace.

“‘Tis going to be alright…” Edward murmurs into her hair.

Jade swallows, solace filling her body from head to toe. She indulges in the hug for another moment before facing Oliver. “When you realize the Admiral is nothing but a sorry excuse for a human being,” she says, stepping onto the boat, “find me. I’ll buy you all the drinks you want and apologize to you again.”

Oliver touches his neck gingerly. The look strung on his hardened face is icy enough to send shivers down her spine.

She flashes an apologetic look at him, not that it’s any use. “Until then… I hope we don’t run into each other again.”

#choices stories you play #choices #playchoices #edward mortemer #oliver #choices edward #choices oliver #edward x mc #oliver x mc #choices distant shores #distant shores #choices ds #ds mc #edward #edward mortemer fic #oliver fic #distant shores fic #oliver cochrane

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asocier · 4 years

Text

CHARACTER INTERVIEW

▌real name: alison bridget clair

▌single or taken: single; multi-ship

▌abilities or powers: mortal; no specific supernatural powers necessarily, though some could argue that being able to run in heels is a power in it of itself. has a hidden skill of pickpocketing that is kept very, very hush-hush due to the nature of how she acquired such an ability.

▌eye color: dark brown

▌hair color: naturally, it’s black, though alison has a penchant for dyeing her hair now and then to spruce up her appearance, whether that be lightening it to be more of a reddish brown or dyeing it an unnatural color all together like lilac or pastel pink.

▌family members: emile adrien clair ( twin brother; alive ), emmanuel clair ( father; alive ), and adeline petit ( mother; alive )

▌pets: a tabby cat named hugo

▌something they don’t like: spicy foods; while she can tolerate mild spice, anything more can upset her stomach and cause uncomfortable cramping

▌hobbies/activities: painting ( watercolors preferred, though other paints are just as enjoyable ), sketching, sewing, scrapbooking, baking, playing the piano

▌ever hurt anyone before: yes, both physically and emotionally.

▌ever killed anyone before: no.

▌worst habits: despite eating healthy, her eating habits aren’t the best due to how frequently she’ll miss meals due to absentmindedness or overworking. her appetite also tends to be very small, though it’s unclear whether that’s just her natural disposition or something much more serious. looking at her sleep schedule, she also has a tendency to sleep very little, alison oftentimes sleeping late and waking up early for another shift at the office. it’s difficult to say what the underlying cause of her aversion to sleep truly is, though her reoccuring nightmares play a significant part in it. another habit of alison’s is lying, specifically when it comes to addressing what’s on her mind. to avoid confrontation or conflict, she’ll put up an unbothered front even if she is very bothered by something, which will lead to her bottling up emotions and, to put it simply, acting very fake.

▌role models: currently, she admires an old friend and roommate of hers who is very outspoken and domineering, characteristics that alison is rather envious of.

▌sexual orientation: pansexual, panromantic

▌thoughts on marriage/kids: alison absolutely adores kids. she has a very soft spot for them, and seeing families with young children makes her long for her own family. a hopeless romantic at heart, alison wants to get married one day and live out a love story of her own, even if it’s not as cheesy or cliche like the ones in chick-flick films she indulges in. as willing as she is to get married, though, she has great concerns when it comes to making that wish into reality, partly due to her hesitation towards intimacy and also some health conditions that make it difficult for her to conceive.

▌fears: due to her trauma, she is very wary of men, specifically men who hold some type of authority in a situation ( i.e. the male cashier at the supermarket won’t make her nervous, but the male doctor doing her physical will ). intimacy with men, while not impossible, doesn’t come easily unless a bond has been established, which allows her to eventually feel secure enough to begin to build trust. her experience as a sex worker and as a survivor of sexual assault has left her incredibly fearful of having her power and control taken away from her again, and as such, she takes many steps to preserve that control and freedom.

▌style preferences: pink -- with white and other neutral colors sprinkled in, but never a gaudy pink that’s neon and bright, obnoxious and loud. she likes to wear lights and pastels, her outfits typically elegant but sometimes daring and bold. she enjoys wearing heels and will do her hair and makeup often. it’s rare for her to show cleavage or her midriff, but when she does, it can be taken to be a sign of confidence and self-love.

▌someone they love: her brother -- emile and her have been through a lot, and her relationship with emile is the strongest out of all her family members, immediate and otherwise.

▌approach to friendships: friends are held close and are among the most trusted people in alison’s life, even more so than her family aside from emile. she treasures her friends and would go out her way to do anything for them, but friends are not immune to the fakeness that alison can present when she’s trying to hide something about herself, whether that be her past, her true feelings, or her concerns. to preserve a friendship, alison might come off as being very two-faced by acting one way with the friend in question, but then turning around to act a different way with others ( or, she may bottle it up altogether and keep it to herself, expressing whatever she feels only in private ). this is rare, however, and only occurs when a friend has truly crossed a line. other than that, alison holds her friends very close to her heart and will take care of them.

▌thoughts on pie: very fun to bake, and definitely satisfies her sweet tooth!

▌favorite drink: can’t go wrong with a nice strawberry smoothie

▌favorite place to spend time at: somewhere quiet that can inspire her, like an art museum, a cafe full of people studying/working, or even just at a park.

▌swim in the lake or in the ocean: in the ocean, but highkey alison prefers to just walk in the sand and stay dry!

▌their type: ironically, alison’s dating history shows that she seems to have a habit of falling for dangerous people, particularly shady men who are capable of killing or committing other severe crimes. she doesn’t purposely seek them out, nor is she always initially aware of what her partner is capable of; it’s usually something she finds out later, and while it seems like a dealbreaker, surprisingly, the relationship remains afloat. perhaps it’s the fact that these people not only treat alison very well despite their profession, but they also protect her and make her feel very safe. she trusts them a lot, which makes it possible for her to genuinely love them.

on the flip side, alison also dates people who are gentle and patient with her, which is very necessary considering how difficult it is for her to open herself up to new romantic relationships, especially when they turn serious. she’s quite secretive as well, and it takes a lot of time before she allows anyone in on her secrets, but once she know someone won’t use her past against her, she loves and trusts very hard.

▌camping or indoors: indoors now mostly; she’s fallen out of love with the idea of roughing it in the wild outdoors, but she still holds an appreciation for nature.

Tagged by: @madamhatter [ thank you!! <3 ]

Tagging: :)

#( alison ) headcanon;#games;#cw: long post

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spursjinglejanglejingle · 4 years

Text

All This and Heaven Too || Part 1

Summary: You are a proper English Lady of high social standing just trying to keep your twin brother alive as he tries to put a stop to raids against the oil supply lines belonging to your family. When a simple trip into Valentine turns bloody, a man in a dark hat steps in to save your lives.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan (High Honor) x Female Reader (Miss Wilson used as a placeholder name) || Male OC x ???

Word Count: Roughly 6k, 11 pages

Tags: Unlikely Pair, Super Slow Burn, English Lady is kind of a bad ass, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers. TW: Animal Death, gore, violence

A/N: I plan on updating this more after the holidays, but I’m constantly working on it. Feel free to suggest what you would like to see! I’m also down for prompts or things like that! Thanks for reading!

America seemed to insist on moving at a slow crawl at all given times - it was a fact that displeased you immensely. The sand and the heat seemed to drag even time itself to a sluggish pace that would make even the Devil himself want to scream. Everything seemed to move at the same indolent speed - the bugs, the horses, even the wind fell prey to the leisurely, cumbersome drawl that the heat draped about the air.

Very much unlike the vibrant and bustling life of the London streets you were accustomed to.

Still, James seemed determined to keep himself...busy. Your brother - a twin in appearance only - seemed to be the fastest moving object in a 10-kilometer radius. Without having to look up from your needle and thread, you could feel the frustration radiating from him, if the incessant scratching of pen against paper was any tell. It was hard to focus on your cross-stitching when you could hear each and every exasperated sigh that escaped his chest as he toiled away over his paperwork. The trip into Valentine from your temporary residence - your Father’s old hunting lodge in the middle of the woods - was a long one and it didn’t take him more than a moment in the carriage before popping open his briefcase and setting to work.

You finally dared to pull away from your tiny woodland creatures, pausing in the middle of a stitch to glance up at James; the sight of him just about destroyed you. Anyone could tell by the crease in his brow and the squint in his eye how entirely miffed he was becoming. It didn’t take someone who knew him well to see how strained his patience had become over the past three months.

He had every right to be upset, you supposed - nothing had been going right since Father had sent him over here. More caravans were hit last month than ever before and each town's local law seemed to be utterly worthless when it came to capturing the guilty. Each day, he would implore for justice to be served, but even that task seemed slowed by the overbearing heat.

It was a monumental endeavor, that was for certain, and one you weren’t entirely sure he was up for. James was a kind, well-meaning man, and never meant any harm to anyone. He would be eaten alive out here, and both you and Father knew it. Father had hoped that it would harden James, stiffen his spine and let him be more confident - both in himself and the legacy he was soon to inherit. The oil portion of the Wilson dynasty would fall to him when your father, Obadiah Wilson, passed - and James was never one to be shown up by your two older brothers, Julian and Peter. Hundreds of years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears defined the men of the Wilson family.

But James was never what one would call "business savvy" - quite the opposite, in fact. Julian always fondly referred to the youngest male of the family as "the black sheep served rare with a rum sauce" once and you had to admit: it was rather spot on. James was better suited for charming those around him, to drinking and singing and being merry. He liked people, terrible drink, gambling and, most of all, being alive. He had disclosed to you that he was terrified that he would be killed over some sort of business dispute - though he would never admit it fully to anyone else, least of all to Father. However, most of all, he feared he would fail the endeavor entirely - bankrupt their oil shares and have to sail back to England with his tail between his legs.

But someone had to make this sacrifice. With Father busy with the expansion in Africa and the Middle East, it was up to James to see the development of Oil in America. Revenue was tumbling and news of ransacked deliveries being attacked flooded in a few days before Father booked James passage on the first ship out of London. It was up to the heir to figure out who was hitting the trade routes your father had established and put a stop to it. Someone had to travel across the pond and protect the family's investments while also securing even more oil fields to begin earning back the revenue lost from the raids. Someone had to put their neck on the line to show these bloody American outlaws that the Wilson family - your family - was not to be trifled with. And as the heir and future owner of the Wilson & Sons Oil Company, it had to be James.

But James didn't have the stones for all this.

You were here to keep an eye on the ever-deteriorating mental state of your brother - much to his relief. Though you were doing less gallivanting than you had originally expected - in fact, it was more like crawling along and waiting for something to happen. But you would endure, for James’s sake.

The scratching stopped as James lifted his head, catching you as you stared at him. You maintained your gaze, refusing to break first. It was painful to see the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles that were already starting to grace his forehead and the crow’s feet that had begun to dot his temples. You watched as a strained smile crossed his lips, causing the curls of his mustache to tickle his nostrils. Your eyes narrowed and your brow quirked; you refused to break eye contact first and this caused him to falter and his smile to weaken. Unsurprisingly, he relented, eyes falling to his hands before traveling out the window to the expanse of field and dust that had become synonymous with The Heartlands. The ensuing silence sat in that cart for a long time, but the mood finally lightened as he focused instead on something other than paperwork and the ever-looming threat of failure.

“Read this over for me, would you?”

“Of course.” Without hesitation, you abandoned your cross-stitch in the seat beside you as you reached over and took the document from him. With a groan, James sat back and immediately tugged at the black-tie around his neck, returning his attention to the passing scenery.

Even with your quick glance, you could see the wistfulness in your brother’s expression. The fields surrounding Valentine were plain, but they held their own tiny hint of charm. The local fauna lazily glanced your way from the hills above, staring at the carriage as if they knew the two of you didn’t belong on this land. You saw them bound off to safety, and you felt in your heart that James wished to do the same. You both did.

It was hard not to long for home, missing it every second of every day. You longed for the family's estate, it’s imposing presence that teemed with the tell-tale signs of life. The hunting lodge was so...empty without your parents presence and you found yourself pining for them more and more. You missed the tiny facets that seemed so far away now: the sound of women’s laughter as your Mother entertained guests in the drawing-room or passing by the study to hear your Father and brothers discuss business over coffee or brandy. Still, some of the amenities of the Wilson Estate followed you over the Atlantic, allowing you - at least - a little bit of the comforts of home: the soft singing of the housekeeper, Miss Winifred, as she moved about her duties; the quick footsteps of your butler, Mr. Kapoor, who always dazzled you and James stories of his home back in Kheda. You were especially grateful for Monsieur and Madame Giroux, the cooks. They were more like grandparents to you when you were growing up, and had a habit of disobeying the will of your Mother and Father to offer you and your siblings a special treat of toast and preserves when you had been sent to bed without supper.

“C’est notre petit secret, d’accord?”

But your Mother and Father? Them, you missed the most. They loved and doted on your every need - seeing that you got the finest education money could offer. While James lived for the more...extracurricular activities, you soaked up each and every lesson a college education could offer a woman. It was partially the reason you had even decided to make this journey with him. You didn’t leave much room for discussion, packing your bags and leaving behind your luxurious home, a respectable fiance, and the only life you had ever known to go gallivanting against the “Wild, Wild West”, as it were, in the search of even more reliable sources of oil.

Because James was the twin with personality, but you had the brains behind it all.

Still, longing for things didn’t make them come true. With a heavy heart, you turned back to the document and let your mind focus on the words. It was a request to the US Government - James was trying to acquire the rights to drill somewhere further South. This struck you as odd, as the entire plan had been to go out West, expanding further inland through untapped reserves in hopes of establishing oil rights on land that wasn’t yet owned but was being cleared for civilization. It's what he had been doing for most of the month - organizing groups to travel all over the West to test for oil, to scout out new and better opportunities to expand the drilling.

You reached up to rub your temple, brow furrowing as you read further on. “What’s this about heading south?”

“It’s just an idea,” James answered, still focused on the tumbleweeds and dust outside the carriage.

The south was all but claimed. Trying to set up stakes there would be difficult, nay impossible. He would be encroaching and metaphorically butting heads with the Oil Magnates who had been there long before you had even been born. This didn’t make any sense - this wasn’t the plan he and Father had discussed. What even was south? You plucked the map from his side of the carriage and spread it across your lap. If he truly planned to travel further south, he would be heading into and rubbing against the land owned by…

“Leviticus Cornwall.” You didn’t bother hiding your disapproval, eyeing your brother from over the paper. “Have you gone absolutely mad?”

“My dearest sister, whatever do you mean?” James blinked once and pursed his lips together. It had worked in his favor with Mother when you were little, but it hardly put a dent in your glare.

“Would you like me to list all the reasons why going after land owned by Leviticus Cornwall is a terrible idea?”

“Even if I said no, I’m sure you would ignore me and do it anyway.” James rolled his eyes in a dramatic manner. He did it because he knew it annoyed you and he was right. He extended his hand for the document, but you refused to budge. Instead, he turned his attention behind you. “Matthew!”

You glanced over your shoulder, looking out through the tiny window and up into the kind face of the driver, Matthew Blatt. He had become a fast friend when you arrived in America. A former military man, he signed on early as a driver and escort. He was all pink and blotchy from the sun, his tiny wicker hat doing little to block the heat and rays. At the sound of his name, he turned to give your brother a smile and a nod. “Yessir?”

“How far off are we to Valentine, my good man?”

“Not much longer now, I reckon. Horses're makin' good time, givin' the damned heat, 'course.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Give me my letter back.”

He motioned again for the paper, trying to make a grab for it. You leaned back, making sure to press it to your chest to keep it out of reach. “Father said that we were to head further west. Not south. South is already owned and we do not have the standing to try and push for-”

“Yes, yes.” He waved you off, eyeing the letter. You gripped it tighter. “But I have a good feeling about the South. South is where the Oil is. You agree with me, don't you, Matthew?"

The driver let out a huff through the nose, which you had come to recognize as the older man's version of laughing. "Yessir."

"See, dear sister? Matthew agrees with me. Like I said: I have a good feeling."

You were all too familiar with the knot in your stomach and the throb in your head - they were never too far behind when James had a “good feeling”. They were never “good feelings”, as “good” would imply that they worked out in his favor and didn’t backfire on him in the worst ways possible. Which they always seemed to do. You wanted to inform him of this fact - remind him of the good feeling he had when he tried to sneak into a ball for Queen Victoria to see if the cakes were truly as good as he had remembered. Or the good feeling he had when he had fallen madly in love with the favorite daughter of one of Father’s long-time business partners and life -long friends during a summer trip to Paris and had nearly convinced her to elope with him under the Eiffel Tower. Or when he nearly lost your cat eight glasses of whiskey deep in a card game by promising the card shark that the poor creature once belonged to an Arabic prince.

You remembered at that moment that you were still quite bitter that he thought Mr. Albert was only worth ten bloody pounds.

You nearly hissed as you shoved the paper back to him, making sure to crumble it in the process. “South is where your grave will be,” you snapped, snatching your cross stitching up and settling back into your work, intent on ignoring your brother and focusing on the woodland scene in your hands.

Twins in appearance only.

James laughed, a snicker hidden behind a glove. “We shall see. I have already written to Father about our-"

"Your."

"Our change of plans. With luck, he’ll respond by the end of the week and we can-”

“He’ll say no.” You tugged harshly on the thread, tightening it more than you should have and creasing the fabric. The buck’s eyes were now entirely uneven, which only made your mood fouler. “The plan was to go west.”

“They haven’t found anything out there yet. We have had men out there searching for months and they’ve turned up nothing.”

“It’s still too early to tell. This is a big country and it could take months to find anything substantial to start production.”

“I don’t want this to take months!" James whined, sinking lower in his seat. "I want to be out of this godforsaken country. There is nothing here but dirt and regret and I, for one, am entirely bored of it.”

“You think you’re the only one?” Your head snapped up so quickly, it was surprising it didn't break off your neck and slam into poor Mr. Blatt's back. "This country is Hell on Earth and we both have left things back home, James."

“You left on your own volition, my dear sister. Don’t forget: I was there when Baptiste was practically begging you to stay home.”

...Why did he have to bring him up? Why did he have to take that knife and stab it in your chest? The distance was already too much and the letters were doing little to ease the pain of it all. You had resolved early on not to think about your fiance, Baptiste. Even so, when things were quiet at night and you were wondering if all of this running around and throwing yourselves in the middle of a land feud was worth it, you thought of him.

Baptiste was a handsome man from a well off family of vintners in France; their wineries were quickly becoming a household name all over Europe and would no doubt stretch even here - now that Baptiste was taking ownership. He was so kind, so gentle, and so incredibly intelligent. A man that held such a high level of charm and poise, only true gentlemen could ever dream of achieving it. His voice was as smooth as silk and his touch was as light as he made you feel when his fingers met your skin.

And you were absolutely smitten with him.

He always supported you - no matter what silly endeavors you wanted to pursue. Most men would be put off by the sort of role you took with your father and brothers’ companies. But not Baptiste. He found it admirable, even called you powerful once. "It's your strength that makes me swoon," he had said once, under his breath between kisses. "Why would I want to change that?"

But when he had heard you were making the journey to the states, he was all but heartbroken. It was the only time he had asked you if you were sure of something, that he even humored the idea of asking you to reconsider. "Do you have to go?" He asked, watching you flit about the room. "Can't James do this on his own?"

He knew all too well what James was doing was dangerous, and he knew that you would ultimately be pulled in to the middle of it all. You could see the fear in his face, the terror causing his green eyes to turn red.

It was only a few months before you were to be married on his family’s vineyard in Bordeaux - and here you were, in the middle of some nowhere livestock town called Valentine, cross-stitching deer and trees and trying to keep your brother from being shot in the back. But you would never leave James twisting in the wind, and Baptiste knew that. He watched you as you finished packing your final suitcase, waiting for only a moment before taking your hand. He gave you a chaste, soft kiss before whispering, “Write to me? Everyday?”

And you promised him that, with tears in your eyes and his lips against your skin to kiss each drop away.

You glanced up, red eyes already narrowed and your mouth open to argue - when something outside the window cut your voice short: A steadily growing black mass that was soon followed by the sound of a stampede with an underlying chorus of men yelling and hollering. For a moment, you found it hard to speak, hard to process a thought aside from wondering briefly what that ever-growing thing meant. But before your brain could come to terms with anything, the sound of a gunshot immediately drew your voice out in a shrill scream.

James lurched forward and into your lap, letting out a yell as he threw his hand up to cover his left shoulder. You had little choice but to catch him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling both of you down onto the floor. You heard Mr. Blatt let out a shout and the horses cry out in fear. "We got O'Driscolls!!"

In a beat, the once calm scene outside the carriage had become a mess of blacks and green. The whoops and hollers of men quickly surrounded the carriage, creeping in all around, pressing the walls down on you. It was enough to instill the fear of God, overwhelming both emotions and senses. You smelled the gunpowder of the rifles, it burned at your nose and made your eyes water. You were familiar with that acrid scent. But there was something under it - bitter and metallic and...and…

“I...I think I’ve been shot.”

It took a moment for everything to catch up. You knew you what you had smelled - it was enough to punch your stomach down to your feet. But your shaking hands didn’t move to do much of anything. You looked down at James, the quickly growing and irrevocably ugly black shadow on his back pulled your attention straight to it. Your fingers pull back - they were stained red. Blood...blood. Your eyes widened as you looked at Mr. Blatt, “Hurry! We should almost be to-”

Another gunshot. You immediately knew you shouldn’t have moved. You had never seen a man shot, nor had you ever seen a man shot in the head. The image of the ever-kind Mr. Blatt lurching back and slumping to the side of the seat will haunt you until the day you die. The feeling of something wet and...gritty covering your face was all but forgotten as you watched the corpse fall back, chest pointed up towards the sky. Whoever these men were, it became painfully clear that they didn't mean to leave any witnesses.

Okay. Stay calm. You had no means to defend yourself. James was turning pale and Mr. Blatt was dead. You could hear the whoops and hollers as the men drew closer. Just...stay calm. “What do I do?” You frantically looked around the carriage, trying to find something - anything - to defend yourself.

You winced when James called your name. “I...I don’t feel very good.”

“It’s...it’s going to be alright, James. We’ll be alright, just...just stay calm and…”

Your eyes fell on the belt around Mr. Blatt's waist and - as if the Angels themselves were showing you the way - a flash of silver. A gun. The poor dead man's revolver. That...that was it. If you were going to save both your skins you had to move, and quickly. Without a second thought, you grabbed at the black fabric if your skirt. With one good tug, it tore away from the rest of your garment, leaving you with enough to try to stop James from bleeding out. You pressed the fabric to his back and urged his good hand to hold it as best as he could.

Once satisfied he had a good enough grip, you nodded - it would have to do until you could get him to an actual doctor. Now...the belt. You twisted, reaching through the window and around Mr. Blatt's waist. You flinched only once as a bullet ricocheted off the wood and sent splinters flying through the air - but you steel your resolve and make quick work of the buckle.

"What...what are you doing?" James let out a groan, watching with a weakened gaze as you tugged the heavy leather through the tiny window and yanked the revolver from its holster. You opened the chamber, counting six of the seven bullet...holder...things filled.

"How do I fire it?" You asked, closing the wheel and looking it over. You just had to scare them off.

James stared, incredulously. He shook his head, eyes wide and terrified. "No...no! You don't mean to tell me-"

"James Edwards!!" You scream, glaring at him as you shakily hold the gun. "If you do not tell me how to fire this gun this instant, I will shoot you myself - do I make myself clear!?"

He didn't bother to hide the hesitation on his face. "Cock...cock back the lever. Aim for the horses - you won't be able to hit the riders."

You did as instructed, the tremble of your hands making it hard but your thumb found purchase. You just wanted to stop them or scare the horses enough to buck them off. You don't have to kill anyone.

The window to your left was closest. You glanced out, seeing 3 men with green bandanas covering their mouths, riding along the flank of the carriage. One man made eye contact with you and before you had time to rethink your plan, you aimed in the general vicinity of the large beast beneath him. The kickback of the shot was enough to nearly dislocate your shoulder and the pain shot up your arm and settled in your neck. But you could hear the cry of pain from the horse and a shout from a man. No. Not just one man. Two. You looked back out the window, seeing two men and two horses left in the dust as your carriage continued to barrel down the dirt path.

You...you might actually be able to do this; the thought of you being able to survive this all is enough to spur you into another action. You take another breath and turn to James, "What do I do now!?"

“Pull the lever back to load another- AH!”

You ducked down as a bullet passes through the carriage, drawing a swear out of both you and James. He called out your name, reaching for you and the gun - but you grabbed it before his fingers brushed against the grip. “Stay down!” you snarled, pulling back the lever as instructed. You tried to aim, tried to take down the other horse, but the man took a shot at you as well. For a moment, your life flashed before your eyes, and you had just enough forethought to duck back under your makeshift shelter of a bullet-riddled door. “Shit!!”

You had four rounds left - you knew how to do the math. With five men - perhaps more waiting up at the crossroads before Valentine - you were at a sharply growing disadvantage that didn’t seem to be changing its route anytime soon. The thought made the tears prick at your eyes as your mind raced to find a solution. Perhaps if you could just...hold them off for as long as possible? Time your shots to keep them from taking out too much of the carriage before you could be in town proper. The people would scare them off, right? Surely the law would?

...Right?

You glanced at James - and the sight of him nearly froze you in your place. He was curled, gripping his shoulder weakly and taking slow and shallow breaths. His eyes were clenched tightly...and you heard him muttering. “One...two...three...four-” He was counting. That fact alone made you want to reach out and grab his shoulder, assure him everything was going to be okay. “...five...six…s-seven...eight...n...nine...fuck...shit…I don’t...”

No. No, you were not going to risk his life on the chance that the Law of Valentine would finally decide to jump up and do their job. After a deep breath, you crawled over him and looked out the right window. A speckled white horse appeared first; with little hesitation, you took aim and shot. The blood splattered everywhere, you couldn’t watch as the wounded animal fell to the ground, taking the rider out with it.

“Kill that damn bitch!!!” One of the riders screamed, taking aim for you directly.

A gunshot fired. You ducked down, covering your head for the spray of wood...but none came. Did they miss you? Were you dead? You didn’t pull the trigger. Quickly, you poked your head out. You sit bewildered as the man who had aimed at you went down, slumping forward on his horse before falling under its feet. If you didn't fire the shot and the rest of the men hadn't decided to commit treason...who had killed him? The hope wanted to pull through, to lift your spirits - but confusion’s grip held tight. Another shot - this time, you’re able to trace its source.

The way the sun posed behind the hill, he looked like an angel of God descending from the heavens. For a brief moment, you found it amusing that this was almost too picturesque - a hero flying down from on high to rescue those in distress. Someone was certainly looking out for you in that moment. Your heart hammered in your ears and you were too tired to stop yourself from gawking as a man on a golden horse took another shot - another rider fell, his horse dragging his corpse in the dirt below.

While it was hard to make out his features, you saw the tan coat around the savior’s shoulders; the black of the hat topped on his head shadowed his brow but you swore you saw the fire in his eyes as he readied another shot. And it was easy to understand what this mysterious stranger was doing:

Saving your god damn lives.

The prospect of having someone on your side now lit the fire under you; if he would cover the right, you could hopefully take out the remaining man on the left side. James grabbed the hem of your skirt, mumbling your name. "Wha...what the hell is going on?"

“Someone’s helping us.”

There was a pause before James seemed to register what you said. His head snapped up, looking at you with pained perplexion. “Please...please tell me...it’s the...sheriff?”

“Well, it’s not like he gave me his bloody calling card, James!”

You didn’t elaborate, stepping over your brother’s wounded form once more pressing against the left side of the carriage. If you remembered right, only one man remained on this side. Hazarding a glance, you dared to slip up and glance out the window. He was close now, his horse racing alongside what was left of the stained wood. Your throat tightened as you realized his hand was outstretched, reaching out for the door or to you - more than likely whichever he found purchase with first. Purely panicked, you let out a yell and took a shot.

“Sonuvobitch!”

You tasted blood in your mouth, metallic and bitter, that lingered far too long. But the man recoiled and threw his hand in the air...or rather, what was left of it. You stared, awestruck, as your brain suddenly registered that the revolver had blown the man’s appendage clean off. The horror of it all was not lost on you, but you couldn’t help but feel...relieved. If he didn’t have a hand, he couldn’t use a gun, right?

Still, his ability to properly use the rifle on his back was forgotten as the horse let out a whinny, pulled off and away, moved away from your carriage. His screaming hadn’t stopped, growing more and more desperate and terrified as the minutes passed. After the raider was a few meters behind you, he rolled, falling off his horse and was quickly left in the dust.

The weight of what happened hit you, harder than you expected. With a sigh, you collapsed to your knees and let the pistol rest in your lap. You didn’t realize you were gasping until you felt a familiar hand settle over yours. You paused, swallowing thickly - but resolved to give James a shaky smile. “We...we have to figure out how to stop the horses.”

“Are they all...dead?” he asked, trying to lift himself up. The bleeding was worse. His side was sticky with blood.

“I...I think so. I’m not sure, the man seemed to be making shor-”

A thud from above interrupted you, the carriage rocked and lifted up on two wheels before slamming back down onto the ground. You gasped, reaching again for the pistol. You aimed it up towards the ceiling, pulled back on the lever, squeezed the trigger and…

Click.

Your heart sank. You tried the trigger once, twice, three more times.

Click! Click! Click!!

“...the blasted thing is jammed!” You hissed, and James met your horrified expression.

“What do you mean it’s jammed!? Revolvers don’t jam!”

“Well, this one bloody did!!”

The footsteps moved and from the box, a thick figure slid into place, taking hold of the reigns. You felt the lurch as the horses dug their hooves into the dirt and mud, slowing the carriage until it settled in the heat and dust.

“That’s a girl...easy now.”

The voice was gruff, deep and low in the chest. You twisted, catching sight just in time to see whoever the man was, stand up but - spied only dark pants. The clink of spurs made your hair stand on end as he climbed down from the perch. No. No, no, no. Is this the man that was trying to rescue you? Was this him? Or was it one of the bandits finally trying to collect for all their hard work?

“Stay down.” You gathered yourself quickly.

It wasn’t up for debate, though as you stood and put yourself between your wounded brother and the door, James seemed insistent on trying to stop you. “What are you-”

The footsteps made their way around the side. You took a deep steady breath - with any luck, whoever it was hadn’t heard that the revolver in your hands was practically worthless. You could probably frighten him off - worst-case scenario, you gave James enough time to make a run for it.

The door opened suddenly, causing you to jump and your aim to waver for only a moment. Light flooded into the dark, bullet-riddled carriage. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they did you found yourself staring down at a tall, stocky man in a black hat. The same black hat you had seen before. His blue eyes glanced back and forth as his hands slowly rose in the air. “Ah, ma’am, I mean you no harm.”

“Who are you?” You tried to keep your voice steady, low to appear more confident than you felt. Something was better than nothing, right?

His drawl was slow and you weren’t sure if it was because he was trying to gauge the situation, size you up, or consider your mental well being. “Jus’ a stranger.” He answered after another minute of silent deliberation. “I was makin’ my way down to town when I saw your carriage gettin’ attacked.”

“So you just decided to throw yourself into danger...is that just something you do to pass the time then?”

This statement amused him. He let out a laugh, shrugging and ducking his head close to his shoulders. “Yeah,” He sighed, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

...He didn’t seem like he was going to hurt you. That was good at least. You lowered the gun, just a little. Your eyes narrowed and your lips thinned as you looked him over. Apparently, he took this as a sign of good faith, lowering his hands. His eyes continued to look you over, taking in your ripped dress, blood-covered face, and shaking hands.

“...I still have a bullet in my shoulder.”

The new voice caught the man by surprise. His brows rose and he tilted his body ever so slightly to catch the pitiful form of James lying in a heap on the ground. Still, ever the charmer, James gave him a grin. “Please, take a breather. Don’t want to rush anyone on my account.”

“Ah, shit…” The man shook his head, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll ride yah folk into town. There’s a doctor there, he’ll be able to help you.”

You moved to kneel by James, lifting him up and pulling the black fabric away from his shoulder to inspect. You looked at the man again, nodding urgently. “Please. Please, thank you!”

“Don’ mention it.” And with a grunt, he slammed the door shut and climbed back up into the driver’s seat. “Don’ worry,” He called back to you after getting the horses back up to a gallop. “We ain’ that far out from Valentine!”

The bleeding hadn’t stopped. James was about as white as lamb’s wool and you heard the labor of his breathing. “If you die, James Edwards, I will make my way down to Hell myself and kill you all over again.”

He laughed, wheezing and nodding all the way. “Oh, how comforting.”

Still, he never lets go of your hand. You gave it a strong squeeze, pulling him towards you to rest his head on your shoulder. He’s going to live. God willing, he’ll live through this and a hundred years more. “Do your counting, James. In French this time.”

“I...I hate to do it in…”

“I know. Ready?”

He sighed heavily. “Un...deux...trois…”

He counted forwards...then backward. You listened, muttering along with him for a moment before you glanced over your shoulder and through the tiny window looking up into the driver’s box. The man’s shoulders were slumped and, aside from the whipping of the reigns, he stayed entirely still. “Sir!” You called up to him. “I apologize, but...you never told me your name!”

For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you as he sat quietly for a moment. Just when you were about to call out again, he leaned back.

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

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notveryglittery · 5 years

Text

star light, star bright

it’s @blinksinbewilderment‘s birthday!!! you know what she likes a lot? romantic analogical and brotherly prinxiety :) it’s a quick little bulletfic with lots of extra bonus background ships. i really treasure our friendship, blink, i hope you have a day that shines as brightly as you do, and that you feel as much happiness as i do whenever i get to talk to you <3!!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

brotherly prinxiety

big bro ro

virgil goes to roman for advice on how to ask out his long-time crush logan

roman initially teases him relentlessly because anyone with eyes can see logan has liked virgil back for at least three quarters of that long-time

when roman realizes the two are in fact blind pining oblivious dummies, he jumps at the chance to help this ship sail as smoothly as it can from where it’s been docked for far too long

roman is obviously a Professional Matchmaker - look, his name is in the word “romance”

(never mind the fact that patton is the one who swept roman off his feet with a romantic declaration at the top of a ferris wheel underneath a bright full moon)

(they’ve definitely let roman live this down. absolutely no one brings it up at every given opportunity)

so roman teaches virgil all of the important things to woo one’s true love (“he isn’t my true love,” virgil gripes, hoping roman doesn’t notice how hard he blushes. roman notices.) this includes: practicing of poetic confessions, the perfect combination of flowers in bouquets, romcom movie marathons.

to virgil’s mortification, roman invites patton to one of their lessons. to virgil’s further humiliation, patton’s brother declan tags along, and it turns out virgil’s to practice his confession on declan because he’s got that same dry wit and humor as logan, and surely he can offer the best reactions.

(declan thinks this is very stupid but he and virgil are also kind of frenemies and so declan will take any blackmail he can get his hands on)

it goes about as well as you think it would

meanwhile, one logan sanders is trying to smother himself with a pillow

“babe, you of all people should know how physically impossible it is to do that”

logan throws the pillow at his queer platonic partner

by some miracle, remy dodges it and manages not to spill a single drop of his starbucks

so as we all know, logan has been pining for virgil for quite a few years now, and as we also all know, he is a blind oblivious dummie

remy is surprised his ears haven’t fallen off yet with how much logan gushes about virgil

it would be cute if it hadn’t gotten really old like a year and a half ago

(okay, it’s still pretty cute but remy thinks a lot of things about logan are cute) (like, hello, the utter look of concentration on his face when he’s deciding which tie matches his outfit best?)

remy wants logan as happy as he can be, of course, but virgil is… well, remy and virgil kind of had some issues sophomore year that they never really resolved.

it doesn’t really interfere with their relationship now given the dynamic of their friend group. they kinda tolerate each other. but remy’s gotta give virgil the Talk - you know the one, “you so much as even think about hurting logan and they’ll never find your body”

remy and roman definitely haven’t been texting each other updates over the months, why would you even insinuate something so devious

after many shenanigans and montages of:

roman helping bolster virgil’s confidence

big bro ro helps virgil to perfect all the makeup tricks he’s learned on his own over the years. virgil understands now just how good winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man can make you feel.

he really does get better with pick up lines and flirting; he stumbles sometimes but it feels effortless and that’s the important part.

declan jokingly threatening to steal logan away if virgil didn’t get on with it

while virgil knows declan’s aroace ass would never, virgil does not know that logan likes him back, and so this still seems like an entirely plausible thing to worry and stress about

sometimes, declan drapes himself over logan and heckles him into a debate; partially to see virgil get all flustered over logan all worked up, partially to encourage virgil to hurry up already, wouldn’t he like to be in logan’s space like this?

remy dropping hints around virgil about logan’s newest interests

virgil and logan might be close friends who have been mutually pining over each other for years, but there’s still things they don’t tell each other, or don’t get the chance to share. if remy happens to let slip that logan wants desperately to visit the new exhibit at the observatory, well, that’s neither here nor there.

and he does give virgil the Talk, a few nights before the plan is set into motion. in the same go, they mostly remedy their past issues. by the end of it, virgil wonders how it’s possible for someone to be so threatening while using pet names like “babe,” “sweetie,” and “honey” every other sentence.

eventually, virgil is deemed Ready. it is Time.

halloween is virgil’s favorite holiday and because logan loves virgil, he also loves halloween. sure, all the sweets are a health hazard, and trick-or-treating really isn’t the safest tradition, and ghosts do not exist - but virgil glows during this season. he adds autumnal colors to his wardrobe and it really is not fair how good he looks in oranges, and browns, and deep greens.

(in case we aren’t all on the same page yet, logan is Very Very Gay.)

everyone is at remy’s house. it’s definitely one of the biggest homes in their small town and so this is where a lot of the holiday parties tend to take place. the dormir family is also generally just really well liked. which means more people than invited show up but if anyone knows how to throw and manage a party, it’s remy.

anyway the plan is that virgil and logan finally get together at this party so that they can finally go trick or treating with the gang in matching costumes

it is so lame and virgil would rather forsake trick or treating completely but also he may or may not have been planning couple’s costumes for like four years now

everything is going really well!

roman and patton are social butterflies, flitting from the dance floor to the kitchen to the backyard. they’re dressed up as she-ra and perfuma, respectively. roman’s even threaded led lights into the underskirt and cape so that he’s actually glowing. patton’s flowers aren’t just a crown atop his head, they twist and weave along his arms, around his torso, and down his legs.

remy wears the same thing every year to the party: pajamas and a ridiculous pair of slippers. he saves the extravagant costumes for halloween night. he truly is a spectacular host, making sure drinks and snacks are restocked, that nothing’s being broken, and checking in on those who don’t handle the crowds too well.

logan’s dressed in a very impressive le petit prince costume - it’s so good, it might as well be a full on cosplay. (virgil definitely isn’t swooning, what?) logan sticks close to the edges of rooms, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

(in, for example, virgil’s arms, on the dance floor, swaying to a slow song.)

virgil is dressed as jack skellington and declan in a creepily accurate oogie boogie - everywhere he goes, plastic insects fall out of his costume. patton’s shrieks of terror at seeing the fake spiders keeps startling the party guests.

eventually - totally not by plan or anything - logan and virgil end up in the backyard together, on the old wooden swing bench on the porch. it’s nearing midnight and the crickets are chirping and there’s an owl hooting nearby somewhere. the moon is obscured on this cloudy night.

virgil thinks it’s perfectly spooky and atmospheric

logan doesn’t need to see the stars in the sky when they’re sparkling so brightly in virgil’s eyes

logan’s feet barely reach the floor and so virgil uses his heel to push them back and forth. thankfully, both of their costumes keep them warm enough in the chilly fall weather. (though they, of course, could always do to be a little bit warmer.)

virgil’s breathing is measured and it’s super obvious he’s counting them in his head. logan scoots closer and lays a hand over virgil’s. his breath hitches.

“there is something i would like to tell you,” logan begins.

the record scratch in virgil’s head sounds loud enough that everyone at the party should be able to hear it

“for the… last couple of years, i have harb-”

“hold on,” virgil interrupts, loud and sudden. “hold - wait a seco - there’s no way you’re -”

logan normally finds all manners of virgil’s speech patterns endearing but right about now, logan has a finite amount of courage and it is quickly running out

“- going to tell me right now-”

“of course i love you.”

virgil’s jaw promptly snaps shut

(he’s been working so hard on this and all this time??????)

virgil isn’t really aware of the high-pitched noise he’s making until logan reaches out and firmly presses a hand over his mouth.

“it is my fault that you have not known it all the while,”

(and the way logan says it, like a treasured line from a fairytale. virgil’s sure he’d recognize it if he could think at all.)

“i understand if you do not reciprocate these feelings and i apologize if i have made you uncomfortable with my confession,” logan is saying now while virgil’s still working on rebooting. logan lowers his hand. “i hope that this will not negatively impact our friendship. i care deeply for you and-”

virgil’s systems spark back to life and he interrupts again, this time with a short bark of laughter.

“l, oh my god, no offense, but i’ve been building up to this night for months and you just-” he has to pause to stifle his laughter. he’s equal parts giddy because logan likes him back and frustrated because logan’s liked him back for years and neither of them had done anything about it until now.

logan looks confused.

virgil wants nothing more than to kiss him.

“i’m in love with you” bulldozes over his brain-to-mouth filter instead

logan looks confused, elated, overwhelmed, stunning, he blushes so prettily, virgil thinks, and all of his practice must pay off, because the next move he makes is easy.

at some point, they’d turned towards each other. virgil’s hand cups logan’s face. leaning closer, virgil’s gaze lowers to logan’s lips, and then back up. who knew eye contact alone could be this electrifying?

“can i kiss you?” virgil murmurs.

“i can’t think of anything i’d like more,” logan responds.

(back in the house, declan grumpily shoves a twenty dollar bill into roman’s hands.)

a week and a half later will find virgil and logan in matching costumes. for their shared interest in astronomy, they’ve lowkey always been called the “starlight gays” amongst their friends, and their costumes certainly help solidify it.

logan is wearing dark jeans and a navy button down. with roman’s help, he’s lit up like the night sky; led lights form constellations that, if asked, logan will explain in a heart beat. from his shoulders trails a glittering black cape that catches the light just right (it’s impractical for trick or treating but the way virgil keeps wrapping himself up in it, snuggling close to logan’s side… well)

virgil’s the opposite in whites and greys, though he’s glowing as well, a near match to the full moon in the sky. he seems exceptionally pleased with the makeup he’s done for the costume, silver and blue and sparkling.

(they look like they should be at a con, honestly, instead of out for one night collecting candy, but it’s cute, and that’s all that matters)

and of course, they live happily ever after

(with only the slightest of teasing for the rest of their lives about their slow burn romance)

#analogical #romantic analogical #analogical fan fiction #brotherly prinxiety #sanders sides fan fiction #qpr losleep #brotherly moceit #romantic royality #human au #dani writes #blink #HBD DARLING I LOVE YOU!!

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 9 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: Alex/John/Eliza preslash implied

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had attempted to sleep his misery away. He had hoped to wake up when it was all over and he could pretend he had not just done that again.

Overwhelm them with honesty always felt like a great option, until you had spread the word and were waiting for the reactions.

However, no such luck was in store for Alex when he awoke to the sound of someone banging loudly on his door. It took a moment for the yelling to register, but he quickly identified it as Angelica when she yelled: “Alexander open this door right now, because I will not hesitate to kick it in.”

He jumped out of bed and called something out to her as he stumbled over, blanket hanging over his shoulders, his hair still a mess from running his hands through it all night, bags under his eyes and a weight on the slump of his shoulders.

When he opened the door, he was met with more people than just Angelica. Behind her stood Eliza, Herc, Lafayette and John, all with crossed arms and stern expressions on their faces.

If they expected him to react the same as before, they were sorely mistaken. He was tired and emotionally drained and he did not have the energy to create an aloof mask. So when he saw them all standing there, he did what any sane person would have done and broke down into tears as he sank to the floor.

Immediately the lecture they had in store for him was forgotten as they sank down to wrap him up in a hug as he sobbed a thousand apologies into their clothes.

After a while Angelica took control of the situation and managed to usher them into the dorm, before they attracted too much attention. She also situated Alex onto his bed, pressed tightly between his friends, with Eliza and John on both sides and Herc and Lafayette next to them, while Angie set to make some tea.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you all.” Alex said, wiping away his tears after he had finally gotten his breathing under control.

“Hey, it’s okay, Alexander, it’s all okay.” Eliza petted his hair, but it just made more tears fall out of his eyes.

“No, no, it’s not,” he protested, voice still broken, “I fucked up again, I made you all sad by ignoring you and it was all for nothing anyway, I still messed up and I’m probably going to stay a fuck up for the rest of my life even when I try so so hard, it’s just never enough.”

“Alex, stop that.” John told him, he realized that kindness was perhaps good, but not if they couldn't snap him out of it.

“Stop what?”

“Stop beating yourself up over trying to be a better person and succeeding.” he answered, taking pride in the fact that he had reduced Alexander ‘A-Hundred-Words-Per-Minute’ Hamilton to silent gaping imitation of a fish on dry land.

When he finally managed to gather his words, he softly whispered: “Succeeded?”

At that point Angelica came back and pushed a warm mug in his hand as she counted on her fingers: “Didn’t cheat, didn’t ruin someone else’s life in an attempt to save your reputation and tried to do what was best for your friends even if the conclusion on how to do that was wrong. You already ‘changed the story’, as you put it.”

“But what if it wasn’t enough?” he asked, “What if no one believes me and Washington gets fired and he hates me and then I never get to see him or Mama M again and you all still have to yell at me for being a shit friend, which is true, and I am left alone and-”

“Alex, I love you, but please shut up before you talk yourself into a panic attack.” Eliza cut off his ramblings.

It seemed that it was enough for Alex to completely shut down and he just stared into another dimension, face riddled with shock and disbelief.

“If zat is truly the worst thing you can come up with then rest assured, mon petit lion, I can - how you say - ah, repel these thoughts.” Laf offered, “If no one believes you, you can actually prove you are Alexander Hamilton by registering.”

“Yeah, and Washington fucking loves you dude, so be chill on that front.” Laurens added, “Same goes for Martha, if she’s still the same.”

“And we will yell at you, but we’re not going to ditch you.” Angelica finished.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked.

Both John and Eliza pull him in for a hug as they whispered: “Of course we’re sure.” “We missed you.”

“Sorry I never said I remembered.” Alex apologized again.

“Well, one pro of being a chronic over-sharer with the world at large is that you don’t really have to explain.” Herc was teasing him, that was Hercs teasing voice and Alex had never been more happy that he was being made fun of.

The sound from his throat was a mix between a sob and a laugh as he confessed: “I missed all of you so much, it literally hurt to not say anything.”

“We believe you.” Eliza told him and both she and Laurens hugged him tightly.

They formed a cuddle pile and started up the The Fellowship of the Ring while Alex was busy being overwhelmed by what his life was right now.

When the fellowship had just arrived in Moria, Alex cleared his throat and said: “I think I’m ready for the yelling now.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Angelica warned him before getting up and taking a deep breath: “How dare you give in to your big ego and throw away your life in a duel when you wife and living children needed you. How dare you leave us all behind for honor when we needed you, you dumb fuck.”

“It was a dick move to not tell me who you were when I found you again, Alex.” John did not give him a moment to react, “I missed you so fucking much and then you pull that shit, break my heart all over again.”

“While I understand and forgive you, it was, as John eloquently phrased it, a dick move to not come to my aid in France.” Lafayette told him and Alex shrunk under his gaze.

Eliza took over: “It was difficult when you left me with the children and it took a long time to forgive you and it hurt even more to see you without you knowing me. And knowing in hindsight that you did, does not make it any better.”

Alex was ready for the ground to swallow him and he wanted to nothing more then for this to be over as he turned to Herc, who shrugged: “It sucked that you didn’t come around more? I don’t know, dude, I don’t have that much beef with you. Except that I had to deal with these two dramatic assholes without you.”

The two assholes in question both let out an indignant ‘Hey!’ as Alex snorted, already calming down a bit.

It was quiet for a few more seconds then Alex said: “Can I talk now? I know I’ve already written everything down for the world to see and all that, but I have been thinking for years about what to say if I had the chance, so…”

John grinned and said: “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d love a Hamilton speech right now. Do your worst.”

“I resent that.” he fired back, before turning to Herc, he wasn’t ready to face Eliza yet, “Sorry, I allowed myself to get swept up in the world of politics so much that I did not make time to see you. It was both snobby and shitty and you deserved better than that.”

Herc gave him some finger guns, which settled his nerves slightly.

Then he moved to Lafayette: “I want to say sorry for never coming for you. I know that politically it was the right decision, but I should have come for you anyway. I promised and then I left you. Even if I argued for neutrality against France, I could have taken a break to save you for personal reasons and the fact that I didn’t speaks of my asshole-ness.”

Lafayette gave him a tight smile and forgiving eyes, but he didn’t say a word. Alex couldn’t tell if it was because the other had realized that if Alex were interrupted he might be unable to start again or because Laf did not have the words to reply.

He turned to Angelica: “I have attempted many times to figure out what to say to you, but I never really know. You were the sister I never had, the support system I shouldn’t have taken for granted, yet I did. I can never repay you for being there for Betsy. So, thank you.”

She patted his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. As much as she could let her temper run wild, she could always be the rock he needed and he was so very grateful for her.

Then he found himself face to face with John. For all the speeches he had written for Laurens, when actually faced with the man, he grasped at straws.

“My dear Laurens,” what other way to start was there? “I cannot begin to express how all my words left me when I saw you alive once more. It pained me that I could not be there when you died and that our promise to see the war through together could not be fulfilled.”

He was reverting back to his older form of speech, but he was hardly noticing it: “We have left so much unsaid between us that breaking the silence seems terrifying, yet I hope that one day you can forgive me for not immediately sharing the delight of finding you in this life.”

“I cannot say how this life we’re making for ourselves will pan out.” he added, “The world is different and I cannot yet say if our stories will be, but I hope we can build upon a relation passed and see where the road takes us.”

Laurens took his hand a squeezed it. There were tears in both their eyes and neither said a word as they stayed liked that for a second, before Alex cleared his throat and turned to the last person in the room.

He had written so much for Eliza, but the only thing he could bring himself to say was an apology: “I know I can never apologize enough for all that I did to you, but I want you to know how incredibly sorry I am and how aware I am that I can never truly apologize for everything I have done.”

“It’s okay.” she said, sweet smile on her face, “It wasn’t for a long time, but you are not him anymore and you are still a good man. Finding out you’re poly did explain a lot.”

“Just because I’m poly doesn’t mean cheating is okay, not to mention telling the whole world about it.” Alex interjected, stereotypes were shit, “Being poly is also about communicating, which is every relationship to be honest.”

“I know, dear.” she cut off his verbal essay before it could begin, “What I meant is that it explained how you still looked at me like I was the world, even after everything. And how your eyes would sparkle when you talked about John, while still having the same look for me.”

“Oh.” sometimes he wondered why he was known as eloquent.

She smiled and repeated: “Yeah, oh.”

Herc piped up: “She and John started the POHC after the party. It was kinda sad, but also kinda sweet. We mostly avoided them.”

“Shut up, Herc.” John hissed, blush on his features, while Alex asked: “POHC?”

“Pine Over Hamilton Club.” Herc grinned, it seemed his spying tendencies had turned into a need for gossip.

“Not the point.” Eliza interrupted, also blushing, “We’ll talk about it later, for now, lets focus on the situation at hand. Did Washington know you were going to do this?”

“Yeah,” Alex snorted, “I’m not doing that without consent two times. I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid, you know. Mama M wanted to push for a lawsuit, but telling someone you will sue them if they breathe a word is about the same as telling them they’re right.”

“That sucks, mon ami.” Lafayette said.

“Tell me about it.” Alex smiled back, “Though we’re still considering pushing a lawsuit when we have the board on our side. I don’t want to dive into it without being registered.”

“You’re going to register?” Angelica asked.

“I have to, Angie.” Alex said, “If I get called for the board then I have proof, and I know they will call on me to explain, so better get it over with. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I didn’t want to do it without asking you guys.”

“Why?”

“Because if I am verified, then Washington will have to be verified and then everyone will look at the two ‘Great Founding Fathers of the United Sates of America’ and by extension everyone near them with a name resembling someone they knew.” Alex explained, “Of course you can avoid it by not being friends with me again, which I totally get and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be associated with me.”

“Oh non, Alex, I will never let mon petit frére go.” Lafayette hugged him tightly and it was good to be in the mans arms again. He had missed his brother in all but blood.

“Yeah, not cool that you think we’ll drop you again.” Herc scolded him playfully, “We’re cooler than that.”

“I can handle them if they come after me.” Angelica said fiercely.

“And I do not doubt that.” Alex told her, “You are terrifying and I want to be on your good side for the rest of my life, but maybe take some time to think about it.”

She glanced at him and smirked: “I never thought I’d see the day when Alexander Hamilton tells me to pause and think like he was Aa- Oh my god, you have been roommates with Aaron Burr for over a year!”

#RR writing #Hamitlon AU #hamilton #hamilton the musical #alexander hamilton #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #john laurens #hercules mulligan #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #I Wrote My Own Deliverance #I Wrote My Own Deliverance Chapter 9 #alex/john/eliza #alex x john x eliza

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