#its the fact that he only knew his dad for 17 short years and he realizes he might not get more than that

[0rchidm4ntis]

NOT SILVER TELLING MAL TO GO BACK TO THE PARTY WITHOUT HIM BC HES GOING TO CRY PLEASE NOOOOOOO

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 12)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 6,162

Summary: Following Javier’s phone call, a plan is hatched to move Horacio to safety. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Non-graphic references to injuries/pain, discussions of sexuality and coming out, discussions of parental loss and grief, swearing, some angst (but also lots of softness, with more still to come 🥺).   

Notes: I cannot tell you the relief to finally have this chapter done, phew! I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had this part of the plot in my head for nearly a year now and had to do quite a bit of research for it, but it was a tricky chapter that needed wrestling to the ground on several occasions 😂 Thank you so much to anyone still reading/commenting. The comments I’ve had since starting this fic a whole year ago have turned me into a grinning idiot and I love hearing what people think, so please feel free to come and chat either on Tumblr or AO3 😊 Chapter 13 is already in progress, so let’s see if it gives me an easier time lol. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 12: Breathing Space

By the time Javier returned to Horacio’s bedside, Trujillo had been called away on Search Bloc business, and Steve was on a coffee run. A fact that made Javier wish he’d had the foresight to brew a fresh pot on his way back, given the usual quality of his partner’s attempts.

“No.”

To be fair, that was the response Javier had been expecting. “At least think about it for a minute.”

“I did, and my answer is still no.”

“Well, what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

“You know there isn’t.”

“I can’t risk putting your family in danger, Javier.”

Our, Javier automatically – and much to his relief, silently – corrected. “You really think they’d try anything over the border?” He stopped short of mentioning extradition, not wanting to re-open that particular can of worms. Even if he remained confident that most narcos would do just about anything to avoid jail time northward of the Rio Grande. “As far as they’re concerned, there’s no reason to suspect you’d be in Laredo. It’s our safest option. Plus, I’d be coming with you.” He casually dropped that nugget of information; optimistic he’d saved his winning move for last.

“What?”

“No point sticking around here watching from the fucking side-lines whilst these heal.” He looked down towards his torso. “And whilst the ink dries on our visa revocations,” he added with a scoff.

“Won’t Messina and your other bosses have something to say about all of this?”

“What? About me visiting my old man whilst suspended from work? I wasn’t planning on clueing them in on the rest, funnily enough.” Not that Javier imagined they’d be losing much sleep over Horacio’s whereabouts. In their eyes, he was the Colombians’ problem. The DEA had been eager for Javier and Steve to distance themselves from him long before the ambush. And now a more palatable replacement was set to take over, they would most likely think of it as a savvy PR move.

Horacio sighed, unsure if he was more irritated by such a persuasive argument or the speed at which his resolve crumbled once Javier had played the ultimate ace. “Did you tell your father everything?”

Although they’d never spoken much of their family histories or the parallels between their lives, Horacio knew it was just Javier’s dad back in Texas. A thought that made him thankful his own mother at least had his sister’s family for company in Colombia. Not that they were any wiser about his and Javier’s relationship.

It wasn’t the sort of development you put in a letter or mentioned during a brief phone call. It had been hard enough explaining his redeployment to Madrid and the events of the last 24 hours. They were aware he was taking time off to recover from his injury at a classified location but were in the dark beyond that for their own safety. And Horacio couldn’t deny it had the added benefit of making his life easier for the time being.

“Yeah. Well, everything he needs to know.”

“Right.” Just as Horacio thought, then. “Are you okay with that?”

“Well, I could hardly tell him the rest over the fucking phone, could I?”

“I know, but are you prepared for him asking questions?”

“It’s gonna happen sooner or later, right?” The uncertainty was as plain on Javier’s face as it was in his words. This was new territory and, up until Horacio, he’d never envisaged the need for such conversations.

Horacio’s hand slid across the bedsheet and found its way into Javier’s, instinctively slotting their fingers together with gentle ease, like it was as natural as breathing. “Only if you’re ready.”

Javier met Horacio’s gaze with the crooked curl of his lips and a soft exhale through his nose. It was the only response he could muster to what seemed like an unfathomable concept. What did ready even mean, anyway? Was anyone ever really ready for this? Had he been ready for half of the shit that had happened in the last few years?

Instead of spiralling any further down that road, he lifted their intertwined hands to his mouth, nudging the scratch of his moustache back and forth along Horacio’s knuckles. “Let’s just get you there in one piece first.” An undertaking kissed into his skin, settling their shared apprehension, even if temporarily.

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It had taken the calling in of several longstanding favours with the Colombian Military – particularly the current Air Force General with whom Horacio had shared off the record intel and several glasses of whiskey – to agree to transport Horacio as far as an airbase just outside San Antonio. From there, they’d need to pick up a vehicle to get them to Laredo.

News of the ambush would travel fast amongst those with vested interests in bringing down Escobar. But since the beginning of the war on drugs, the Colombians had regularly used American training facilities during manoeuvres. Providing details of the plan were strictly on a need-to-know-basis amongst those they could trust, and they didn’t linger upon arrival at the airbase, they were unlikely to attract suspicion from their U.S. counterparts. Or from any personnel who were no more immune to corruption than the CNP.

The main outstanding issue was moving Horacio in his current condition, given he shouldn’t have even left the hospital yet, never mind be flying anywhere. Nor could they risk drawing attention to themselves by using medical facilities once they were in the states.

“What about medical staff from here? Can they spare anyone to tag along?” Javier queried once Steve and Trujillo had returned, running his thumb across his top lip whilst he subconsciously paced around the perimeter of Horacio’s bed.

“Probably not with the number of injuries sustained in the ambush. They’re gonna be run off their feet over the next few days.” Trujillo exchanged a look with Javier from across the room, where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Few knew better than him what an occupational hazard working for the CNP was in Escobar’s Colombia. And this was just another in a long list of atrocities.

“Wait a minute – one nurse would be enough, right?” Steve asked, suddenly sitting up from the lazy, feline recline he’d adopted in a plastic chair that was too low to the ground for a man of his height.

“Steve, no. You can’t ask her.” Javier had stopped pacing, although not before getting a step ahead of his partner.

“But she wants to help. She was going stir crazy in Miami, and her sister’s willing to have Olivia for a bit longer. If we both tagged along, we could head back home once Carrillo’s on the mend. Beats sittin’ round here whilst we’re out of action.”

“I can’t ask you to drag Connie into this. You’ve already done enough. We’ll figure something out.”

“Javi, for fuck’s sake, let us help!” The exasperation was evident in Steve’s raised tone and the deep sigh he heaved as his head dropped into his hands. He continued after a pause of awkward silence; his voice more measured this time. “You don’t always have to do everything alone. You know she’s a damn good nurse. He’d be in safe hands, I promise.”

The notion that he didn’t have faith in Connie’s ability as a nurse triggered a wave of guilt to wash over Javier. That’s not what his reservations were about at all. No, it was his track record of hurting those he cared about that was playing on his mind. But setting his own feelings to one side for a second, he had to admit Connie was the ideal person for the job.

He worked his jaw back and forth several times, mulling over Steve’s proposal and turning to Horacio for reassurance or permission; he wasn’t sure which. A vague nod that could have been either – or both – was enough to make Javier finally accept defeat, though. “Okay, fine. If you’re sure she’s willing, let’s do it.”

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Now that the details were agreed and time was of the essence, the wheels were swiftly set in motion. Horacio, Javier and Steve were to board a helicopter to the Colombian Military base in Bogotá where they were meeting Connie. And from there, they would fly onwards to San Antonio.

Whilst the pilot carried out pre-flight checks and, Javier and Steve fetched supplies for the journey, Trujillo ensured Horacio’s stretcher was secured in place in the helicopter. “I think you’re all good to go now, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Trujillo.” He hesitated for a moment, adjusting himself on the stiff canvas evidently built more for practicality than comfort. “Have the families been contacted yet?” Of course, he had to ask. It had been weighing heavy on his mind since he’d woken up, perhaps a force of habit seen as it was a job that usually fell under his remit.

“Yes, Colonel. There’s to be a memorial service next week once – once your replacement has arrived.”

The thought of not being able to pay his respects to the men he’d lost on his watch – those he had failed to protect – was as painful a blow as the wound on Horacio’s shoulder. Even though he accepted he had no choice, it still felt cowardly and selfish to be running away and hiding like this. It went against his natural instincts when so many others never even had the option. “Right, of course. Any more news on Martínez?”

“Just that it looks like Gaviria is going to try talk him into it.” Trujillo’s gaze had dropped to the floor at the mention of a replacement, and he was now studying the scuffed toe of his boot with great interest.

Horacio gave a wry smile. “I’m sure he’ll find a way. Martínez won’t be what you’re all used to, but he’s good at what he does.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough, Colonel?”

“I don’t know. It never was before. It’s possible someone else might attempt to fill the gap, though. We’re not Pablo’s only enemies. So, just be careful and keep yourself safe.”

“Yes, Colonel. But if I get a shot at him, make no mistake, I’m taking it.” He raised his head, his eyes now meeting Horacio’s head-on with steely determination.

Horacio couldn’t and didn’t want to argue with that, so he gave a swift, firm nod of approval.

A shout from the ground indicated they were about ready to depart. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Before you go…” Horacio trailed off, unsure how to phrase what he was about to say or why he felt the need to say it at all.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Javier. If he ends up back here, and things get rough…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Trujillo. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t worry, the drinks are on you once you’re back on your feet, and this is all over.” Trujillo threw a smirk over his shoulder as he climbed out of the chopper.

Even as he walked away, Trujillo didn’t miss the huff of a chuckle from Horacio despite himself and something that sounded very much like Cheeky fucker muttered under his breath.

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Their arrival in San Antonio passed without incident, and a car was ready and waiting for them as expected. Steve offered to take on driving duties, with Connie sitting upfront, leaving Javier and Horacio to rest in the back.

So far, Horacio had remained stable but drowsy from regular doses of pain relief. Although, now that his last dosage had worn off and he was forced to sit upright, a dull throb had taken hold in his shoulder. With nothing to be done until Laredo, he settled for deep breaths and the soothing touch of Javier’s fingers over his left hand; the tightening of his grip the only obvious tell of his discomfort.

Javier wasn’t faring much better with exhaustion and the added pressure of a seat belt resting over his tender ribs. But he was trying to stay awake just in case he was needed for navigation purposes once they neared Laredo. It had been a long time since he had driven on these roads, but as the hours passed, his muscle memory kicked in.

Mile after mile of endless farmland whizzed by as they sped along the highway. In the height of summer, the ground was arid and sun-scorched, but the heavy rainfall from the last couple of months had quenched the soil and left a carpet of green in its wake. After years spent in the cooler Bogotá climate, Javier was glad his return here came in November. It would make for more comfortable nights, which was an appealing prospect when all he wanted to do was lie down – preferably with Horacio – and rest for the foreseeable.

Despite his best efforts, he could feel his head beginning to nod and his eyes starting to droop. They passed a diner where he celebrated his eighth and ninth birthdays, and apart from a fresh lick of paint, it didn’t look any different. That was always the discombobulating part of being back here. It was frozen in time in so many ways, yet, everything around it had fundamentally changed, including Javier himself.

He wasn't sure if it was the quiet murmur of chatter between Steve and Connie mixed with the lull of Spanish voices on the radio that reminded him of long car journeys with his parents. Or perhaps it was just recent events catching up with him. But his head slumped against the window, and his eyelids finally gave way to slumber.

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It was late into the evening when they pulled up in front of the large steel gates drawn closed at the foot of the ranch. Once Steve cut the engine, it became clear why they were shut when a cacophony of barking could be heard instead.

Javier went ahead of the others, the cool night air shocking his senses awake again after his accidental nap. He slipped behind the gate, the barks of alarm mellowing into whines of recognition as he greeted the furry welcoming party like the old friends they were. He hadn’t been back in far too long, but it was oddly reassuring to know he wasn’t forgotten by those whose unwavering loyalty meant they would never judge him.

Not being able to crouch to the ground made it trickier than usual to extract himself from the excitable clambering of paws and warm, sloppy licks to his hands. But the dogs seemed to pick up on his stiff body language and soon backed off. Or maybe they’d sensed the familiar presence appear behind them in the shadow of the floodlight that had flicked on at the sudden movement.

Javier’s attention was drawn away from the dogs to the shadow. “Hey, Pops.”

“Javi.” They both moved in for a hug, forgetting Javier’s injury for a second, but compromised instead with a handshake and light pats on the back. “How was the journey? Everything go to plan?”

“Long, tiring. But yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“Good. You look like you need a drink, though.”

Javier couldn’t take offence at that, as even in this limited light, he knew he must have looked like shit. “Wouldn’t say no to one.”

“Well, let’s get your friends in first, then we’ll see what we can do.” Chucho was already peering curiously at the car parked on the other side of the gate before stepping past Javier and hooking it back to let Steve drive through.

A winding dirt track led up to a small complex of buildings with a courtyard in between the main farmhouse and two adjoined guesthouses that were sometimes rented out by holidaymakers or used by seasonal workers during busy periods on the ranch. Luckily, they had been sat empty for the last couple of months due to a particularly heavy spell of rainfall and storms, plus a last-minute cancellation or two.

Once Steve had parked up, Chucho was waiting to greet them.

“Dad, this is Steve Murphy – my partner – and his wife, Connie. Guys, this is Chucho.”

Chucho held out his hand to each of them in turn. “Pleasure to meet you both at long last.”

“Likewise. Impressive place you’ve got here,” Steve observed, nodding emphatically with approval as his gaze danced around the complex.

The canine welcoming committee had returned and latched themselves onto Connie, who was knelt on the floor as they fussed around her. “It really is, and these guys are adorable!”

“Thank you. These two are Sol and Leo.” Chucho pointed to two black and white Border Collies who were currently playfighting at Connie’s feet in a battle for her attention. “And this one is Luna.” This time he gestured to a majestic looking Great Pyrenees with a white and grey mixed coat. She hung back more than Sol and Leo, but still sniffed at Connie’s hand with great interest. “She’s a tougher nut to crack than the others, but she seems to like you.”

Meanwhile, Javier did his best to help Horacio out of the car. Although the pointed look directed his way suggested Horacio didn’t appreciate the assistance in the circumstances and was determined to push himself upwards with a stifled groan instead.

No sooner had Horacio extracted himself from the car, than Chucho’s attention shifted in his direction. “And I take it this must be Horacio?”

“Erm yeah, that’s right, Pops.” Javier’s mouth was suddenly devoid of all moisture and he couldn’t quite meet his father’s eye. He quickly cleared his throat, desperate to get a fucking grip of himself before anyone noticed his awkwardness. “Horacio, this is my dad, Chucho.”

“Pleased to meet you, Señor Peña.” Despite his less-than-graceful entrance, it was as though a switch flicked in a matter of seconds. Horacio confidently held out his left hand and grasped Chucho’s with the same professionalism he had done when meeting the likes of Gaviria for the first time. “And thank you – for everything. I’m sorry to intrude like this.” He was doing much better than Javier so far, it seemed.

“Please, call me Chucho. And well, it’s one way to get my son to visit me, at least,” he quipped, making a point of side-eyeing Javier. “Let’s get you more comfortable and find you something to eat. You all must be starving.”

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Officially, Steve and Connie took one of the guesthouses, whilst Horacio took the other, leaving Javier to become reacquainted with his old bedroom in the main farmhouse. It gave everyone their own space, plus Connie and her medical supplies were close by for Horacio whenever required.

Unofficially, of course, Javier had other ideas. He waited until Chucho had passed around hearty bowls of homemade sopa de fideo. After making large batches for the ranch staff – particularly in the colder months – it had become his speciality dish. 

Everyone had been quick to disperse to bed once sleeping arrangements were agreed, so when the coast was clear, Javier discreetly made his way across the courtyard. If it wasn't for his ribs, he would have laughed at the absurdity of sneaking around like this, especially at his age, but then again, needs must. For now, at least.

The guesthouses, much like the main farmhouse, were a mix of limestone and wooden beams, and with it being a working ranch, the interior erred towards the rustic. Each property had a master bedroom with a double bed, plus an additional bunk room and bathroom. Paintings of the local landscape and photos of prize-winning cattle and horses reared on the ranch adorned the walls, along with a trademark set of horns hung over the fireplace in the centre of a combined living/kitchen area. Javier had often rolled his eyes at how clichéd the whole thing was, but it was the authentic experience tourists signed up for.

By the time Javier arrived, Connie had given Horacio more pain relief and attached an antibiotic drip as a precaution. Horacio was already dozing in bed, elevated by a stack of pillows, but soon stirred once he felt the mattress dip next to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s fine. I did try stay awake.” Horacio’s voice was fuzzy with fatigue, but he was determined to finish the conversation before fully giving into it.

“You need to rest. Don’t worry about anything else right now, okay?” It was awkward given their injuries, but Javier did his best to lean against Horacio’s left shoulder. He placed a kiss to Horacio’s temple and ran the pad of his thumb in soothing circles where their hands joined under the duvet. As he relaxed into the solid warmth next to him, he let out a long sigh he was pretty sure he’d been holding in since they had left Carlos Holguín.

“Well, you did it.” Horacio tilted his head to the left, connecting with Javier’s. He’d never wanted to wrap himself so thoroughly around someone, but that would have to wait for another day and this would have to suffice for now.

“I think you’ll find it was a team effort. Although now you mention it, it was my idea.” A weary smirk crossed Javier's face, but his eyes stayed closed as he decompressed and digested the events of the last couple of days.

“Of course. You never told me that charm of yours was a family trait.”

“You never asked.” There it was again, only this time accompanied by the teasing scratch of facial hair against Horacio’s neck. “Oh, and speaking of, Señor Peña?”

“What’s wrong with that? I’d just met the guy!” Despite the incredulity that had sprung into Horacio’s voice, he didn’t have the energy to lift his head from its resting spot against Javier’s.

“Nothing, it’s just you’re so fucking formal.”

“Am I?”

“You’re the only person to exclusively call me Javier since I was at school, for a start.”

“What can I say? You’ve always felt more like a Javier than a Javi to me.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

That was the last comment either of them remembered the other saying as they succumbed to the rest their bodies and minds had been crying out for. Not just since the ambush, but for weeks, months, years. It was a cumulative burnout catching up with them, one that couldn’t possibly be fixed in a night, a week or even a month, but it was a start.

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Javier couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in his childhood bedroom. Even prior to moving away for work, he’d taken up residence in one of the guesthouses. Which was where he’d snuck out unnoticed at the first sign of sunrise that morning, reluctantly leaving Horacio fast asleep in favour of avoiding questions he wasn’t ready to answer yet. He always figured it was close enough to nip across the yard to the main farmhouse for food and drink supplies when his own stash ran dry. But far enough away so his dad couldn’t hear what he got up to with anyone he invited home with him.

Early dawn light trickled through the curtains and drew Javier’s eye to the sun-faded snapshots of his past that whispered like ghosts from the corner of the room. His graduation certificate sat alongside an old family photo taken at a cousin’s quinceañera. Rounding everyone up to pose for it in the first place had been a challenge, not helped by him and several other children hiding in the stables passing round a bottle of tequila. A couple of swigs was all it took for Javier to turn green and lose the contents of his stomach in the horses’ feeding trough, much to the delight of his cousins. To this day, they still relished in recounting every detail of that story whenever their paths crossed.

He also remembered that day well, as it was one of the last few pictures taken of his mother. Of course, you couldn’t tell from the photo, as she tried to hide her illness as much as possible, even when everyone knew. They all went to great lengths not to talk about it when Javier was present too, but he was a child; he wasn’t stupid. He picked up on all of the hushed conversations. The tears wiped hastily away on the backs of hands or sleeves, and the sad, pitying smiles from older relatives who already viewed him as a half-orphan. He learnt more about human behaviour and reading body language in that period of his life than any Psychology or Sociology course could ever have taught him.

A knock roused him from his thoughts, a welcome relief to what was rapidly turning into a painful walk down memory lane. “Come in.” His vocal cords were still thick with sleep and long overdue their first caffeine fix of the day.

Almost as though he had read his son’s mind, the door opened with a creak to reveal Chucho armed with a large mug and already dressed for work, Stetson included. The restorative aroma of coffee quickly drifted into the bedroom, and there was something strangely nostalgic to Javier about the situation.

“Did you manage to sleep okay?” Chucho asked as he perched on the edge of the bed and handed the mug to Javier once he’d propped himself up against the headboard with a wince and a grunt.

“Yeah, I did, thanks.” Javier immediately took a sip despite it being far too hot to drink yet. A much easier alternative than elaborating on the main reason for his good night’s sleep.

“You never could wait for it to cool down. Even when you were small, and your mother warned you not to burn yourself, you wouldn’t listen.”

Javier huffed faintly, sending a trail of steam across the rim of the mug held up to his mouth. “I remember. But I’m a big boy now, Pops. I think I can manage.”

“Are you sure about that, Mijo?”

It was far too early for riddles and metaphors. So, Javier rolled his eyes and continued to make his way through his drink until Chucho was forced to change the subject.

“I need to tend to the horses and run a few errands in town. I take it you’ll all be alright without me for a few hours?”

“Yeah, sure, do whatever you need to do. Have you, er, seen any of the others yet this morning?” Javier aimed for casual curiosity but was quite sure he missed the mark.

“Connie’s in the kitchen. She was taking some coffee to Steve and had just checked on Horacio, who apparently had a good night by all accounts. He’s lucky to have friends like you. To do all of this for him. Not many would.”

“Glad to hear it. And er, yeah, well, he’d do the same for me.” Javier hid behind his mug once again, fearing he’d said too much and given himself away even with such a short sentence. He hoped the gulping noise he made as he swallowed wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his head. Although to be on the safe side, he ploughed on in a bid to cover it up. “Listen, I, er, just wanted to say thank you. For letting us all stay here like this.”

“You’re my son, Javi. You’ll always have a home here.” Chucho stood up from the bed and softly squeezed Javier’s shoulder before making his exit to give the horses their morning feed. An air of unanswered questions lingered between them. But if anyone knew when to back off and let Javier exercise his right to remain silent, it was Chucho.

Javier wondered if that sentiment would remain true if Chucho knew the whole truth. It was one thing to suspect your teenage son of experimenting with his best friend when they were little more than raging hormone bombs. But it was quite another to be introduced to the man your adult son was in a serious relationship with. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal the latter just yet, or if he ever would be.

He downed the dregs of his coffee and made his way to the bathroom, every sharp movement still requiring slow, deep breaths. As expected, the bruising was even angrier now, and the jets of water from the shower faucet were like pinpricks to his chest. Once dressed, he headed for the kitchen to find Connie still at the table making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Oh hey, you’re up. Want another?” Connie gestured to the empty mug in Javier’s hand.

“Morning. And very much so, thanks,” Javier replied, holding out his cup to be refilled. “Steve still in bed?” Like he even needed to ask given the number of times he’d left his partner snoring away in his bunk back at Carlos Holguín.

“How ever did you guess? I think the drive took it out of him. How you feeling anyway? Were you able to get any sleep?”

“I’m alright, better for those painkillers you gave me, so thanks for that. And yeah, I went out like a light for a change. How’s—is he—have you—” Whatever he was aiming for, it certainly wasn’t that.

“He’s doing okay,” Connie cut in, her eyes softening further as she understood what Javier was attempting to ask. “I changed his dressing about an hour ago. I’m not sure he knew I was there as he was still asleep, but everything looks as it should at this stage. And don’t worry about the fatigue; it’s perfectly normal post-surgery. Even more so when you’ve just flown a few thousand miles against medical advice.” She couldn’t resist a stern look at Javier. Although there was no real annoyance in her scolding.

“Thanks, Connie. And thanks for coming here. You and Steve really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I’m here because I want to be, Javi, and so is Steve. After everything you did for him when he was…well, you know. It’s the least we can do.” Now it was Connie’s turn to hesitate. “He, er, told me what happened. I swear I didn’t tell him anything. We both just figured it out separately.”

Javier nodded as he got his head around the abrupt change of subject, working his way through his second coffee much like the first. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure until the day Steve went missing. But I’d had a hunch for a while. There were a few things he said during his petty rants about the two of you going off without him. Of course, he thought it was all about how you obviously didn’t trust him,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes, “but it never added up to me. And then, do you remember that Embassy Christmas dinner a few years back?”

“Vaguely. I think Steve and I handled being forced to attend by making good use of the free bar.”

“That’s the one, and oh, you absolutely did. You could barely walk by the end of the night. I was about ready to leave you both there to sober up when along came my Knight in shining armour. Well, Colonel in dress uniform anyway.” Connie couldn’t resist a wink now she was in full flow of her story.

“What?”

“You don’t remember? He offered to drive us all home and helped you into your apartment.”

“No, I don’t remember that at all.” Horacio always hated those bullshit functions, so Javier was surprised he even turned up in the first place. “Fuck, I really must have been drunk.” As he laughed, a warmth spread through him at being given a new piece of his and Horacio’s history that he hadn’t even been aware of. History that happened long before Tolú yet made complete sense in hindsight.

“Oh, you were. I don’t think I saw Steve until late afternoon the day after. But yeah, there was always something about you two.”

“Did Steve – did he say anything? When he found out you knew, I mean.”

“I think his pride was a little wounded because Mr Big Shot DEA Agent didn’t work it out before his wife.” She paused to allow them both a moment to indulge in a shared joke at the expense of her husband. “But other than that, not really. He cares about you, Javi. We both do. We just want you to be happy.” She took a long sip of her coffee and placed the mug back down. “And I’m sure your dad wants the same thing too.”

Javier wasn’t sure what to say to that. But luckily for him, Connie clocked the flashes of panic in his eyes at the mention of his father. She reached across the table and lightly squeezed his hand with her own, allowing him to reciprocate in a silent gesture of thanks instead.

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It was mid-afternoon by the time Horacio woke. His bleary eyes squinted at the low sun clinging to the edges of the sky and curtains, along with a thick layer of dust that exposed how unused the place had been lately.

He needed a moment to notice Javier lying next to him, a lazy curve of the lips taking hold as they drank each other in.

“Hey,” Horacio rasped. He was still groggy and grateful for the glass of water held out for him to sip from as he slowly came round.

“Hey yourself, Sleeping Beauty.” It raised a huff of amusement from them both, although there was undeniable beauty in witnessing Horacio like this. In how relaxed his jaw and facial muscles were for a change. In the way his long lashes delicately fluttered like a butterfly’s wings whenever he stirred. In the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, as predictable as the tide drifting in and out. Waves gently lapping around them for once rather than submerging and drowning, reminding Javier how peaceful sleep was supposed to be.

“What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

“Shit. You should’ve woken me.”

“Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“Very funny. I just don’t like sleeping through the day, that’s all.” It wasn’t something Horacio had ever indulged in, even throughout his teenage years. There hadn’t been much opportunity for lounging in bed on weekends, with Sundays reserved almost exclusively for church and family gatherings. Whilst Saturdays were often spent shadowing his father. Whether it was learning maintenance skills around the house, or being taken to his workplace to be given a “head start”; Horacio had a strong work ethic instilled in him from an early age.

“I think it might be allowed when you’re recovering from major surgery. How you feeling?”

“Annoyingly exhausted despite how much I’ve slept.”

“Connie said that’s normal after surgery, so nothing to worry about. You should eat and drink something to keep your strength up, though. There’s plenty of leftovers from last night.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“Pops has taken the others on a guided tour.” Javier gave an affectionate roll of his eyes at the thought of Chucho in his element. By the end of it, his friends would know their Quarter Horses from their Arabians. And their Santa Gertrudis from their Brahmans, whether they wanted to or not. Even once it became clear Javier wasn’t likely to follow in his father’s footsteps, these were facts still embedded deep in his long-term memory. “But Connie will be dropping by later to check up on you.”

“Right.” It didn’t take long for the tension to re-emerge on Horacio’s face now he was awake. A shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Javier.

“What is it?”

“What you’re all doing for me, it’s…beyond what I deserve. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, Javier.”

“Hey, come on, you know it’s not like that. You had no choice but to leave.” With laboured effort, Javier shifted closer to Horacio and leaned over him as carefully as he could manage. “So, this isn’t about being a burden.” He broke off to place slow, tender kisses on his lips and forehead. “It’s about keeping you alive,” he finished, nuzzling their noses together like a pair of purring cats.

It was another half an hour before they finally left the bed in search of food. Not that either man was in a fit state for anything physical beyond kissing at the moment. A fact that infuriated and frustrated them almost as much as the injuries themselves. But being alone together like this, with time and space to heal, to catch their breath and to close their eyes each night without the imminent threat of violence on the horizon, was more than enough for now. Despite the horror that had led them here, their newfound respite was a luxury to be savoured and they fully intended to make the most of it whilst they had the chance.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

We’re Batshit Crazy

@spnquotebingo​ Word count:1,609

Summary: Love isn't all that perfect sometimes love is crazy especially when the Hero is in love with said crazy.

Gotham AU

Jason Todd(Jensen Ackles) x Villan!Reader

Enemies and Lovers (none of that "to" bs)

Gotham Recasting: Batman=John, Dick Grayson(second Robin not first) =Sam ,Tim Drake=Adam, Joker(ledger style)=Lucifer, Harley Quinn=Lilith,ect.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, and violence

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The mad laughter rung out into the night sky as the purple Lamborghini hit corners with violently sharp turns. "Oh puddin I just love family night!~" The pale platinum blonde giggled as the man with green dyed hair licked his smiling lips. A bubble of laughter came from the back seat he turned around to see his princess looking out the small back window. "Batsy batsy batsy" Her low/high pitched giggle caused a crazy chain reaction as the bat mobile hurried to catch up. "Always ruining our fun,huh,princess?" The clown king shifted his gray-ish blue order into the mirror grinning making the scars on his face raise into a sinister smile at the look of pure chaos in his daughter's e/c eyes. "Not tonight! Not on my birthday!!" She said as she smiled reaching under the seat to pull out a Tommy gun. Climbing to the front seat sitting on her mothers lap she leaned out the passenger window. "Go back to the Rat cave your not gonna put a downer on my weekend!" Y/n yelled shooting off round towards the tires,windshield,and headlights.

The mobile didn't seem to have a scratch as as a motorcycle pulled up beside it. Slipping back in the car the younger women pouted looking at get parents. "He called his little birdie no doubt the replacements in the car." Y/n huffed as she dug around for more fire power. "Puddin we have a visitor.~" The red mask gazed at us as he lifted a forearm pistol. Shots were fired and Joker took a hard right almost like tron the motorcycle quickly turned into a ally to avoid being hit. "Sorry Princess might have to cut tonight shot." He said licking his lips as a thump came from the roof making the youngest clown snarl her eye crazed as she shot above her as the purple car swerved wildly. "YOU'RE RUINING MY BIRTHDAY,BATS!!!" Y/n cackled madly a mixture of her parents laughed till the magazine ran out.

They got to one of their warehouses where Jokers men were armed to the teeth. The clown mask had black soulless eyes and immediately fired the moment the batmobile entered. Y/n skipped out of the purple Lamborghini she got on her tippy toes and kissed her dad on the cheek. "I got the hooded punk. Can you clip the bats wings for me...a little present?!" He laughed as he armed himself with a shotgun. "Anything for my princess." The f/c sf/c female clown skipped away knowing that the motorcycle riding vigilante was hot on her tail. That's how she found herself on the roof tops jumping the gaps as heavy footfalls followed. Her loud laugh echoed as she leaped to a smaller building hiding behind a vent the moment the brown leather jacket came into view she tackled the tall man. They were both panting as a grin pulled on the clowns lips.

Y/n POV

"Caught ya,Jay bird." I giggled pulling of the helmet his apple green eyes covered by a second mask stared at me he chuckled as his hand slipped above his head in mock surrender. "Yeah you caught me,beautiful." Leaning down I kiss him my hands pushed into his cheeks my thumb running over the scarred J. We've been dating for awhile now ever since dad kidnapped the second Robin at seventeen. I was fifteen at the time and dad had me at his side as he tortured him.I was always there to stitched him up and put burn cream after shock therapy I didn't know how we got attached maybe because he wanted to rebel a little by talking to me or someone around his age saw the same if not worse shit.

Six years ago(Y/n 15 Jason 17)

"Why are you helping me?" Looking up his head was strapped down along with his arms and legs. I shrugged my shoulders I knew who he was if I wiped off the make up and temp dyed my hair I was the honor student in the same class as him. Jason Todd anyone with eyes had a thing for him,but after removing his mask it wasn't hard to piece together who the bat fam is. "I know what my dad has planned for you Jay. This is just a band-aid on a gunshot wound and might I say that's very unhelpful." This was the first I spoke to him and it wasn't long before Dad beat him to death.

Two years later.

I sat in the back of the car as Frost drove. We just left the cemetery. "Why are we doing this,n/n." He asked looking in the rear view mirror at me. I'm seventeen now my thoughts screamed at me. Why was I trying to bring him back? "Because I crazy that why!" I giggled as we grew closer to the lazapit. He was dressed in a black suit with red tie his body sunk into the water as I waited. A loud gasp drew my attention as he shot up a white streak in his hair. "Heya sleeping beauty." Looking over in shock he lowly made his way looking like a baby deer. "I'm alive,but h-how?" His green eyes looked at me. "A Ghoul owed me a few favors I just asked to use his fountain of youth." Handing him a towel and some clothes. "Sorry about the outfit,but Arkham does have one size fits all." Jason chuckled as he started to dry off.I realized why I brought him back. I was crazy about him.

Two more years later(two years ago)

Jason wanted to stay dead he didn't go back to His dad and brother after he realized that neither of them tried and save him. It was sad to see,but it brought Jason closer to me and he started to trust me and I gave trust in return. Blood coated my hands while some was on my face. Looking at Jay some was speckled on his cheeks taking the pockets square out of the mobsters coat I wiped it off he looked down at me his arm slipped around my waist pulling me closer my breath hicked. "Will you be my girlfriend,my little jester?" A large smile grew on my face as my arms went around his neck pulling him down further. "Gladly,Jay bird." I kissed him not caring if my lipstick stained his lips and he didn't seem to care either as the kiss grew more intense. We shared our first kiss at nineteen surrounded by dead bodies as sirens and the unmistakable sound of the armed batmobile. At least he's as crazy about me as I am about him.

One year ago. (Jason POV for a sec)

I came to Bruce I hate to admit it but I needed advice about the one think he knew best. Women. It was just a couple of months ago he found out I was alive and shocker he managed to drive Dicky boy to Blüdhaven to get away from him to get his own image and not just Robin. Oh and surprise surprise when out of robins he had a spare like a tire and it's name was Tim. Nevermind that I stood across from Bruce in his home main office he had a frown on his face. "You're dating someone and its serious and I didn't know about it?" He asked trying to deduct everything. "I've been dating her ever since I came back. As strange as it might sound,but I want us to be something more." That's when the billionaire playboy stood up standing just a inch shorter then myself.

"Life is short Jason and you've experienced that first hand if you feel that both of you are perfect enough to be more then go for it." Perfect wasn't realistic nothing was ever perfect my life isn't perfect her life sure as hell isn't she's the clown princess I'm a bat son. Maybe that what makes us so good together the fact that it would have never really happened any other way life is just crazy like that.

Present

Staring into those vexing green eyes always brought me back. We're both twenty-one him being older only by a couple of months. "Happy birthday,gorgeous." His voice brought me back as my smile grew. We were standing up now he held a box wrapped in my two favorite colors. "Awe you shouldn't have." I grab it and opened it a gun was inside it was red and gold revolver it looked like my moms love/hate gun,but it said King/Queen. Looking at Jay I reached to hug him when suddenly he dropped to one knee pulling out a box with a beautiful f/c ring and ruby gem. "This feels over due. You took care of me when I was considered enemy number one. You brought me back from the grave when my own family didn't try. And this might sound stupid,but I had a crush on you in middle school you were one of the only people that didn't give me pity after Bruce adopted a street kid." He licked his lips as he gave of a small smile. "Together we are far from perfect, but we are good. You complete me...Y/n M/n Napier become my queen?" My eyes glossed over with tears my make up running down the pale foundation. "Oh my god of course!!!" I jumped into his arms hugging him tightly before letting him slip on the ring. "I love you." "I love you more crazy." I chuckle it sounded watery in my throat. "If I'm crazy then that makes two of us. You wanted to marry me." Yep we're both batshit crazy.

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A/n: Quote= We are far from perfect, but we are good. ~Supernatural

Is it just me or does Jensen look fucking hot as Red Hood?! I'm mean he's definitely a reason to move to Gotham

Well first crossover AU in my bingo card

[cherienymphe]

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

~

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @hurricanerin​

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peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

[queenofanime]

New Parent!?

(Atsumu Miya Writings)

Part two here

"And you remember when Shoyo-kun received that spike perfectly"

"Can you believe Kageyama still doesn't acknowledge it. Kageyama Baka, Baka!"

" Shut it human-tangerine"

"Oh, or when Ushijima hit that jumping serve in the last game?"

"It was more like a home run"

In this very moment part of the MSBY Black Jackals and part of the Schweiden Alders were having a small gathering. A little party, reminiscing high-school years and moments of youth, not that they were old or anything but oh boy, how time has changed.

The said party was being held in non other than Atsumu Miya's apartment. Being a professional Volleyball player did have its advantages, since the apartment could be considered a mansion with the latest technology.

All men were talking and laughing when the sound of the doorbell interrupted them.

"That must be the pizza!" yelled Bokuto who until now was complaining about being hungry

Lazily, Atsumu grabbed the spare change from a corner table and headed for the door.

As soon as he opened the door, his brown orbs were met with other cold brown orbs, just like a mirror; and it wasn't the pizza delivery guy.

There at the other end, stood a girl. She couldn't have been older than 16 really. The air she radiated was vaguely familiar. Her clothes were messy and disheveled. Her hair unkept.

"May I help you?" asked the blonde. His eyebrows scrunching down in confusion.

The girl didn't respond, in fact, she just stood there analyzing him, taking in every detail. Her gaze roamed from one feature to another. Letting out a sigh, she then took a crumbled paper out of her dirty torn up backpack and handed it to him.

Atsumu seemed to hesitate for a second. Fidgeting with the paper, he took in the information that was handed to him. Since the paper was a little deteriorated, the writing was hard to read, but ultimately he understood the gist of it. The paper was non other than a birth certificated and a parental blood test.

His breath grew heavy, his hands trembled ever so slightly. He shifted his vision to the girl once again, looking for any sign of a prank or joke, but he was only met with a poker face.

"...Hey dad"

Was the last thing he heard before passing out.

***

Of course, after the commotion the twin had just pulled, the six people left in the living room went to check up on his friend immediately, and were met with quite a sight.

A grown ass man spread in the floor completely knocked out and a teenage girl (who resembled the grown ass man) holding her laughter to the best of her abilities and failing miserably.

The pizza long forgotten.

***

Time seemed irrelevant. Atsumu was sited in the head chair of the dining room staring directly at the child who was sited in the opposite side of the table. Her gaze never wavering. Both of them subconsciously began a silent staring contest. Neither one of them backing out. This only made Atsumu realize that the girl was just as competitive and a sore loser like himself.

A few minutes passed before he broke contact with her to see the crumbled paper spread out in his hand.

What in fact was killing the man was the simple fact that he could not remember the child's mother. He remembered knowing she was pregnant. He remembers telling her to abort it. He remembers the fight, the tears and the yelling. Yet... he can't seem to remember her. Looking back, he was only 17, so of course his sense of responsibility was nowhere to be seen. Oh but karma never seems to forget does it.

Tension was high in the air. Bokuto and Hinata were sited in the table as well. Even with their social skills and bubbly personalities they didn't seem to know what to say.

Hoshiumi, Ushijima and Kageyama were siting in the living room, trying to avoid whatever the hell was happening. Still the tension was very much present.

As for Sakusa; he was minding his own business in the kitchen. Preparing a peanut-jelly sandwich for Bokuto who was still starving.

"You have no idea who is my mother do you?" (Y/n) finally spoke.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at this. She had seen through him quite easily. But admitting, that in fact, he didn't even remember her name was a no no. "I do know who your mother is. How horrible of a human being do you think I am."

"Define horrible." remarked the girl. "Now, what's the name of my mother?"

By now, everybody was looking at Atsumu. Hinata even had pleading eyes. Praying that his team setter knew the name of said woman. With a defeated and frustrated sigh, the man openly admitted the truth. (Y/n) snorted at this.

"Her name was Ava Kim" She then stated. The setter scrunch his eyebrows at this revelation. God, how could he forget Ava. Such a simple name. Plus she was beautiful and hot.

Sakusa perked his ear at the use of past tense. "Was?" He then proceed to ask.

"She's dead." Without even bothering to look at him, the girl responded with a straight face. "Died 11 years ago."

Regret, sorrow, guilt, you name it. Miya Atsumu was feeling every overwhelming emotion. He didn't even knew that Ava had died.

"You are just 16 and your mother died when you were 5, what the hell were you doing?" Asked Kageyama, a little too blunt.

"Foster care, but you wouldn't know how that feels now would ya?" Answered (Y/n) with the same bluntest as him. "I got tiered of it, so I ran away."

This was quiet a dramatic situation, painfully awkward and incredibly frustrating. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Now that must be the pizza!" yelled the owl.

"How is it, that after three peanut-butter jelly sandwich you are still hungry!?" asked Sakusa completely bewildered.

"Oh did you guys order pizza?" (Y/n) asked. A little glimpse of happiness could be seen. For the first time she seemed to let her guard down and show a little of enthusiasm. With her reaction to food, she might as well be Bokuto's secret love child.

It didn't take long for (Y/n) to devour her plate. Sad eyes, filled with petty stared at her. She must have been starving for just how long?

Obviously the party was cut short and soon everyone left, leaving a tangled, almost broken relationship behind.

"Look it's late kid. I've left a new toothbrush and some clean clothes in one of the guest rooms, which now will be your room. We can have a proper talk tomorrow."

The girl only nodded, she too was very tired. Leaving the dirty dishes in the sink, she headed up stairs without a word.

[f0rever15elf]

They Were Roommates: Part 1

Modern!AU:  Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5  / Part 6 (coming soon) Pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 9,509 (I ain’t even sorry)  Summary: A dangerous night leads to an interesting living arrangement between you and one grumpy Spaniard. 

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, death mention, alcohol mention, food mention, reader in danger, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, no beta reader, shameless use of the roommates trope

A/N: So this was gonna start out as just a fluffy little fic and then it turned into something a little bit steamier. I have lost all control of these characters, I’m sorry (not really). 

Masterlist |  Ao3

You should have run. You should have turned on your heel and gotten out of there as quick as your legs could have possibly carried you. You knew better than to go sticking your nose into things that could get you in trouble, Dad had raised you better than this. But Mom had raised you with that tender heart and soft soul, and ultimately they won out over your sense of self preservation. And now here you are, surrounded by a group of brutish looking men who all reek of the cheapest vodka you've ever smelt. The contents of your stomach churn as they banter, joking about all of the things they were going to do to you, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you do your best to keep your knees from knocking together. 

You should have walked the other way. 

But the man on the ground was being beaten. Five on one was hardly ever a fair fight, no matter how strong and rugged the one seemed. And so you had yelled out to get their attention, telling them to back off. And it got their attention alright. The new target was you, and they wasted no time in cornering you against the brick wall. 

"Please, please just let me go. You can have everything in my purse, and I won't tell anyone about this. Please..." You hate the way your voice sounds when you beg, but if it meant surviving, your pride could take the compromise. The one you could only assume was the ringleader barked out an obnoxious sounding laugh and shook his head. 

"No can do toots. We were getting bored with our little punching bag over there. You showed up at just the right time." The four other goons all chuckle and make various sounds of agreement, closing the circle in on your tighter. Your mouth is dry as the Sahara when you try to swallow and your ears are beginning to ring. 

"P...Please don't do this..." you manage to squeak out as the leader slinks up in front of you, bracing a hand by your head as he stares at you with feral eyes. You close your eyes tightly, trying to shrink away from the stink of cheap booze on his breath when a sharp crack from behind the leader breaks the tension. Your eyes snap open to see the man who they were beating standing there with a short piece of pipe clutched in his hands. In front of him, one of the men lay crumpled and motionless on the ground, red staining the ground around his head. Your stomach couldn't take it any more and you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach right onto the ringleader's shoes. Sputtering and gasping for breath you stand back up as the remaining four descend on the dark haired man, leaving you your opportunity to escape. Dark eyes catch yours for a brief moment before the man nods, swinging his pipe again. You decide that's your cue, and turn tail, taking off into the night.

----

The next morning, the blaring sound of your alarm rouses you from a restless sleep. Resisting the urge to chuck it through your window, you instead turn it off, slamming it back down on the bed side table. Sleep had eluded you in favor of nightmares of the men cornering you. Even in your dreams the smell of alcohol was sharp and nauseating. With a groan and a sigh, you toss back the covers and stumble into the bathroom. 

"...I look like shit." The reflection stares back at you with sunken eyes surrounded in dark circles, her hair an absolute mess. 'Death warmed over' is how your mom would word it, and to be honest, it pretty accurately describes how you're feeling this morning. Did you really need to go to work today? One more glance in the mirror and you decide that is a firm "No." Marcy would understand when you call her about it, you know she would. "I should get cleaned up, at least," you mutter, quickly going about your morning routine. 

The shower certainly helped, and with a little under-eye concealer the bags were mostly hidden. Mostly. Today was a me day, you decide, grabbing your purse and heading out the door. First order of business? Caffeine. 

The little coffee shop down the street was your favorite spot for a decent cup of coffee, and the owners were always so sweet. As the bells in the doorway chimed over your head, Samael, the owner, looked up to greet you, smiling as he recognized you instantly. 

"Well, well, well! Good morning to our favorite regular!" 

"Morning Sam. How are you and Anita doing?" You smile as you approach the counter, already digging out your wallet. 

"Well, today. A bit of a busy morning, but busy is a good thing! Will it be your usual today?"

"Please, with an extra espresso shot."

"Long night?"

"You have no idea." Sam just chuckles and shakes his head, ringing you up before going to make your order, muttering something about what it is to be young as he does. 

With your artificial energy securely in your hands, you make your way outside. The sun was shining brightly today, and a cool breeze kissed your skin, beckoning you to spend time enjoying it. The park it is. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even notice the man making his way towards you until it was too late. A hiss leaves your lips as hot coffee drenches the front of your blouse, causing you to jump back. "Son of a-! I am so so sorry!" You look up to see who had been unfortunate enough to wear the other half of your drink and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. "It's...you..." 

"Clumsy," he mutters under his breath before scowling back up to you. "You should be more careful." A heat rises in your cheeks and you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. He had an accent, you noticed. Spanish, perhaps? Regardless, it sounded wonderful coming off of his lips, and almost didn’t match the irritated look he wore. 

"I'm honestly really sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention." The man just grunts in agreement, slipping off his coffee soaked hoodie. 

"Clearly. Like I said, you should be more careful." He stares you down with dark brown eyes and you get the feeling he isn't just talking about the coffee incident. In the daylight, you could finally get a good look at him. Dark, curled hair stuck out in almost every direction on top of his head in an organized chaos. His eyes had a hard edge to them, the edge of a man who had seen too much. His skin had an almost golden hue to it, but the most notable feature was the scar that ran along his left eye, now paired with a blooming black bruise. His lip was split and a bruise was creeping its way along his jawline as well. "It's rude to stare." 

The comment sends a jolt through you and you jump, clearing your throat. "Right, I'm sorry I just...You...you're the guy from last night, right...?" You lower your voice as you ask, worried about someone overhearing, though you weren't sure why. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, staring you down with an intensity that made you feel only inches tall. 

"Maybe." 

"...Thank you, then. For..." you wave your hands, trying to complete your sentence, but the thought of what he had saved you from brought a sour taste to your mouth. 

"We're even." His matter of fact tone catches you off guard and you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so you close it, kicking the ground. The whole time, his eyes never leave your face. 

"Did you, uhm, get those taken care of?" you ask, gesturing to his face. 

"They'll heal on their own." 

"So, that's a no then. I have a cold compress back at my place. A-and I can wash your hoodie since I got coffee all over it. It's the least I could do." What are you doing? Inviting a strange man over to your place? A man whose name you didn't even know? A man who literally beat someone with a length of pipe right in front of you last night? If Dad could see you now he'd be reading you the riot act for sure. The mystery man just blinks, considering it for a moment. "And I could make us some lunch...?" 

"Sure." Ah, so the way to this man is through his stomach. That's easy enough to handle. You offer him a gentle smile and nod, turning to head back to your apartment, and he follows just behind you, hands still in his pockets and grumpy countenance still on his face. 

The walk is...strange. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but there was a palpable tension in the air between the two of you, and it was clear this man was not going to be initiating any form of conversation. Clutching at your bag, you clear your throat. "I don't think I ever got your name." You look up at him, curiosity in your eyes. 

"Tovar is what most call me." You nod, testing his name on your lips. 

"Tovar...Spanish, right? That sounds like a Spanish name," you muse, and he just makes a grunt of affirmation. Clearly, this man was the pinnacle of conversationalists. The corners of your lips perk up at your own little joke. You offer him your own name and he nods. "Are you from around here?" The look he gives you absolutely screams "what do you think?" and you felt that heat rise in your cheeks again. 

"Spain. The Eastern region. Moved here about a year ago." 

"Well, welcome to The States." You rummage around in your bag, pulling out your keys to let you both in. You kick off your shoes as soon as you cross the threshold and drop your keys in the bowl you keep by the door. "Home sweet home. Pardon the mess, I wasn't expecting to bring someone home today." The man called Tovar was silent, standing in the doorway with an awkward hunch in his shoulders. "You can come in, you know. Make yourself at home. Ah, and I'll take your hoodie." He hands it off to you without question before slipping off his own shoes, following your farther inside. He remains standing, looking over the pictures you have hung over your walls.  When you return from changing into a clean shirt and starting the laundry, he's found one particular picture that he's picked up off the bookcase to look over and you feel your chest tighten.

"That's my parents." Your voice is smaller than you were expecting it to be, and Tovar looks up at you when he hears it before looking back at the picture. "They passed away a couple of years ago. Car accident." He nods, setting the picture back down. 

"You look much like your mother." His observation brought a small smile to your lips as you turned to head into the kitchen. 

"Most people said I looked more like my dad. But I appreciate the compliment. How do some grilled cheeses and tomato soup sound?" He grunts again, coming to sit at the bar that runs along the side of your kitchen. Mulling over what to talk about as you get out everything for lunch, you decide it was best to jump in head first. "What did those men want with you last night?" You hazzard a glance over to him to see him staring at his hand he’s resting on the bar. When he doesn't reply after a moment, you gently call his name and his head snapped up, as if you broke him from a daze.

"The leader owed me money." Now you're really confused. 

"The big one owed you money, but you were the one getting beat up? Isn’t it usually the other way around?" The first sandwich sizzles in the pan as you flip it before looking back over your shoulder. 

"He called his friends to...deter me from taking what I was owed." For some reason, the way he said that made your blood turn to ice in your veins. 

"Ah." What else could be said? It suddenly felt hard to breathe in the little apartment so between sandwiches, you moved to open a window, feeling Tovar's eyes on you the whole time. 

"That... sounded bad, didn't it?" You look back at him as he speaks up, and you could swear you saw a nearly...sheepish...light in his eyes. But as quick as you saw it, it was gone, replaced with that glowering look he always seemed to have.  "I just did some work for him, and he's shorted me in the past so I didn't want it to happen again." You nod, setting a plate and bowl in front of him, for which he thanks you quietly before hunching over his food. Walking around the bar, you set your own food down and sit next to him as he eats like a man who hasn't seen food in weeks. You pick at your sandwich, thinking. 

"Tovar...what is it you do?" You feel his eyes on you again, electing to keep your gaze on your soup. 

"You're awful interested in business that is not yours," he grumbles before taking another bite.  

"Can you blame me? This isn't exactly a normal situation." 

He sets his spoon down and sits back in his chair with a sigh. "I do whatever I can to make ends meet. To get food to eat. To save for a place to live." You splutter into your soup, grabbing a napkin to wipe your mouth before turning back to him. 

"You don't have a place to live? You're homeless?" 

"I am." That matter of fact attitude astounded you. 

"What the...How can you be so...okay with that?" He just shrugs. 

"It's how I've lived for years since I left the Spanish military. No job, no family, no friends, nowhere to go. I came here to see if I could find something else." His eyes leave yours and he picks up the spoon again, playing in the soup. You sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to wrap your mind around this. He was homeless, probably struggled to ever get a good meal which would explain how voracious he was when you put the food in front of him, and had no one. Your heart begins to ache as it always did when you were met with someone in need. 

"I...have a spare room..." The words are out of your mouth before you're able to second guess them. The look of surprise on Tovar's face as he looks up at you makes your heart stutter for a moment. 

"Are you offering it to me...? I can't pay you yet, I have almost no money." You shake your head and wave him off. 

"I'm not looking to make a profit off you, Tovar. If you need a place to stay, you can stay here for as long as you need. Just help out around the house. The nights are gonna start getting colder." 

"Amiga, you are far too trusting." For the first time, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, oh so slight, but you're sure it's there. 

"I know, and my dad is rolling over in his grave because of it." The laugh that leaves your lips is gentle and light and is the closest thing to music Tovar has heard in a long time. Perhaps things would be alright after all. 

---

It’s been almost two months since you invited Tovar into your home, and it’s nearing a point where you’re finding it hard to remember what living alone felt like. Life with him was comfortably simple. He never asked for much, and did as you asked in terms of helping to keep the house clean. Tovar kept odd hours, a by product of taking odd jobs to try and start amassing some semblance of savings, and it wasn't uncommon for you to come home from work to find the grumpy Spaniard knocked out on the couch with the TV on Telemundo. And every time it brought a smile to your face. When he was sleeping, his face looked so much less grumpy, the frown lines smoothing out as he dreams. You would drape a blanket over him and turn off the TV before heading to your own bedroom to sleep. 

What you weren't expecting was after a night of working late to come home to the smell of popcorn. "Tovar..?" You called out, confused. Normally at this time, he was either out on a job or passed out on the couch. 

"Amiga, you're home! Good!" He comes out of the kitchen, a large bowl of popcorn in his arms. You set your purse down by the door, walking over to him with that puzzled look still on your face. 

"Work held me a little late today. What's with the popcorn?" He hands off the bowl to you before grabbing two beers from the fridge. 

"A celebration is in order." 

"Celebration? For what?" 

"As of today, I am employed!" You blink as a slow recognition lights your face. 

"The security detail job got back to you?" The excitement in your voice is unmistakable and he nods, proud. 

"I start tomorrow." 

"Tovar, that's great!" He nods again, grunting as he moves past you to the living room. 

"So tonight, let's watch a movie together to celebrate." He plops himself down on the couch, spreading out and making himself comfortable, drawing a chuckle from your lips as you move to join him. It wasn’t often that he acted happy, usually staying quiet and reserved even when you knew he was excited about something, so this was a welcome change of pace. 

"As you wish," you grin as you set the bowl down before settling in next to him, pulling a throw over your lap. 

"What shall we watch?" he grumbles, flicking through Netflix. You shrug, popping a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth. 

"Dealer's choice, gruñón."  He rolls his eyes at the nickname you had for him before settling on some Spanish flick you had never seen before, remembering to turn on the subtitles for you. Exchanging the remote for his beer, he settles in, turning off the light on the side table and plunging the room into darkness, save the light from the TV. 

You aren't sure when exactly you fell asleep, You really aren't sure when you ended up leaning against Tovar, and you are EXTREMELY unsure as to when his arm found its way around you. The only thing you are sure of is that this grumpy man holding you to him while he slept was one of the most comfortable feelings you had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. At least, that is what your sleepy haze told you. When it finally clicks that you were cuddled up to your roommate, your heart leaps into a sprint and you tense in his arms. You shouldn't be doing this. You were roommates. Oh my god, you were ROOMMATES! This was crossing all sorts of lines! Wiggling slightly, you do your best to try and worm your way out of Tovar's grasp, but the movement stirs him just enough that he grabs you more securely to him, turning you so your cheek presses against his chest. 

"Hermossa..." His words are but a breath on the top of your hair and you freeze, the sound of his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear. Had you heard that right? Maybe it was just the rustling of fabric. Yeah, that was it, the fabric. Heat was rapidly rising in your cheeks and the tips of your ears were on fire, but struggling too much more to get out of Tovar's grasp would surely wake him, and you knew he needed to be well rested for his first day of work. And so you choose to stay in place, cradled against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat strong in your ear, the sound that slowly lulls you back to sleep. 

---

You thought the morning was going to be awkward, but Tovar never gave you the chance. The sun's golden light pouring through your curtains is what wakes you, alone, on your living room couch. Sitting up, you wipe the sleep from your eyes, your cheeks getting hot again as you recall what you woke to earlier that morning. "Tovar...?" You called softly, standing up to look for your roommate, but only finding a note on the kitchen table, telling you that he had headed in to work with an approximation of when he would be home. He must have tucked you in before he left, and this thought did little to cool the heat burning in your cheeks. 

You slap your cheeks quickly, letting out a frustrated groan as you make your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for your day. You were friends, that's all. Roommates. Sometimes friends fall asleep on each other, no big deal. So why is it that whenever your mind wandered to the thought of being in Tovar's arms, your cheeks grew hot and your pulse quickened? Why was it that the only thing you could bring yourself to think of was how strong and sturdy he felt as he held you to him? Why was "hermosa" said in his sleepy voice the only sound you could hear as you tried to go about your day? Looking into the mirror as the steam slowly starts to fog it up, you had your answer, proudly displayed in the shine in your eyes.

"...Fuck...I'm falling for my roommate..." 

And so, you do the only thing you can think to do when you find yourself bogged down in thought. You clean. Today was an off day for you, so you had all the time in the world, and the countdown to Tovar's return from work was quite possibly the longest countdown you've ever been faced with. All the better to clean with, you decide, throwing on some music. Working from room to room, you clean every surface that COULD be cleaned; counters, cabinets, walls, baseboards, floors...The apartment would be SPARKLING by the time you were through with it, so help you God. Tovar would inch back into your thoughts time to time, and in retaliation to the errant thoughts, you scrub harder or faster, as if the scrubbing would cleans the thoughts away. So absorbed are you in your cleaning that you don't even hear the door open, or the keys clatter into the holder. 

"Scrub any more and you'll need to replace the tile." You nearly jump out of your skin, letting out an embarrassing shriek as you wheel around, brandishing the bottle of cleaner as a weapon. You're met with Tovar's bemused expression, eyebrow cocked as he leans against the door jam of the bathroom with crossed arms. 

"Jesus, Tovar, you scared the crap out of me!" 

"Thought you heard me come in," he shrugs. "All I can smell is cleaner, have you been cleaning all day?" 

"...Maybe." 

"Why?"  You open your mouth to respond then snap it closed, fidgeting, still on the floor. You couldn't just tell him it was because you had been thinking about him all day, you couldn't make things weird like that. You were roommates, just roommates. 

"Just felt like cleaning is all." 

"Amiga, you are a strange one." He holds out his hand to help you up, his face still disgruntled looking, and you take it. Your knees protest and you groan, stretching as you make it to your feet. 

"How was your first day?" You ask, moving past him, oblivious to the look on his face in response to the borderline lewd groan you let out. He swallows thickly, following you back to the kitchen. He grunts as he sits down, rolling his eyes. 

"I work with a bunch of idiots." You can't help but chuckle, unsurprised at his response. Tovar tended to find most people to be idiots. "But it's steady pay. Better than the odd jobs I was working." 

"That's good. I'm sure you'll be able to take care of any of the idiots at work in short order." You flash him a grin before ducking down to put the chemicals back under the sink. "I was thinking paella for dinner. I splurged on some saffron and seafood at the store when I went shopping the other day." You pop up from behind the counter just in time to see the surprise on his face before it falls back into the resting grumpy face he wears so well. 

"You know how to make paella?" His voice is incredulous, and you nod, grinning. 

"I learned on a trip to Spain several years ago, actually. I just don't normally cook it 'cause my paella pan is really big and well, seafood is expensive." He lets out a grunt, sitting back in his chair and nods. 

"If you mess it up, I'll judge you forever." 

"I would expect no less from you, Tovar." Pulling off your gloves and tossing them under the sink as well, you head back to your bedroom. "I'm gonna shower then get started on dinner." He grunts again, and you don't catch it as his eyes follow you all the way back to your bedroom. 

Fresh from the shower and dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, hair still wet down your back, you make your way to the kitchen to start on dinner. Tovar is nowhere to be seen, so you assume he's hiding in his room. The man enjoyed his privacy. Paella had seemed so intimidating  to you at first, but after having someone walk you through the steps, you picked it up quickly, electing to stick to the more traditional rendition of the dish. After slapping the lid on the paella pan and setting a timer for it to simmer, you walk to Tovar's door, tapping on it. You were just going to tell him that dinner was about 20 away, so you were surprised when the door opened. The sight before you took your breath away. 

He was standing there, shirtless in some loose hanging sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was damp, the occasional droplet dripping from it to roll down the expanse of his chest. Your eyes drifted down for a moment, taking in his muscular physique graced with scattered, faded scars. 

"It's rude to stare," he states simply, but the smirk is evident in his voice. You snap your eyes back to his, your face on fire. His eyebrow is arched and the smirk is firmly on his face. "What do you need amiga?" 

"D-Diner," you squeak out. "Dinnerintwenty!" The words run together before you turn and all but sprint down the hall to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You lean against your door, sliding down to hide your face against your knees as you attempt to calm your racing thoughts. The way Tovar looked had been positively SINFUL, and your mouth is dry at the thought of how those drops of water looked rolling down his skin. 

"Stop stop stop," you chant, smacking your cheeks again. "None of that, noooone of that." After a few more deep breaths, you're able to compose yourself enough to dart to the bathroom and rinse your face with some cold water before heading back to the kitchen to check on dinner. You notice Tovar has come out to take up residence on the couch, flipping through the channels. He's apparently elected to put a shirt back on, and you'd be lying if you weren't a little disappointed in that fact. He must have felt you staring, because he turns to look at you, eyebrow still arched, and you quickly avert your gaze to the dish in front of you, grabbing a fork to test the rice. Satisfied with the taste and texture, you grab out two plates, serving up a large portion for Tovar, and a significantly small portion for yourself. Two months, and he still ate like a starving man every meal. You had no idea where he managed to put it all. 

"Dinner's ready, Tovar." He grunts, coming back to the bar from his place on the couch to take his seat as you place down two glasses of white wine before hopping into your seat next to him. You watch him anxiously as he picks up his fork, heaping a large bite into his mouth. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as he takes a few more bites before he grunts appreciatively. 

"It won't be winning any awards back home, but it isn't bad." The backhanded compliment was more than you had expected, and a wide smile crosses your face. Satisfied that he enjoys it well enough, you join him in eating quietly. Tovar never really talked while he ate, usually too busy stuffing his face to get a word out even if he wanted to, so dinners were typically silent. You couldn't help the feeling of pride when he helped himself to an equally large second serving. As he sat back down, his knee bumped yours and you squeaked, drawing his gaze. 

"What was that?" 

"N-nothing, just startled me a bit is all." You cram another bite into your mouth, hoping he would drop it. 

"You're jumpy today, amiga." He takes a few more bites before he continues. "Something happen?" 

Oh, you know, just came to a realization that I'm falling for my roommate who I still know so little about and I can't get the thought of you wet and shirtless out of my head, but yeah, I'm totally fine....

Is what you wanted to say. All you were able to say, however, was a simple "No." He nods, scraping up the last few bites on his plate before clearing both of your place settings. You down the rest of your wine in a gulp, hoping it would still your trembling nerves. Tovar loads the dishes into the dishwasher before turning to lean against the sink, arms crossed as he stares you down. "What?" You ask incredulously. He's silent as he stares at you with that grumpy, inquisitive gaze, sizing you up like some sort of quarry. "What is it? Something on my face?" you ask again, unable to bare the intense silence. Eventually, he just shakes his head, pushing off of the counter to walk past you. 

"I have work early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep," he states, continuing down the hall. The sound of his door shutting is followed by you slumping in your chair, resting your head on the counter. You bang your head against the counter a few times before standing up to clean the kitchen. Once all of the dishes are put away and the counters wiped down, you head down the hall to your own room for the night. A sound coming from Tovar's room causes you to pause. It sounded almost pained, so you stop to listen, concerned he might have hurt himself at work and didn't tell you about it. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time he had done something like that. You can't help the little gasp that escapes your lips when you hear him moan out your name, the shock of it causing you to stumble back from the door, pressing up against the wall adjacent to his door. Wide eyes bore holes into his door as your name drifted through it once more, laced with the lewdest sounding moan you had ever heard. 

Deciding you had heard enough, and feeling rather embarrassed for such a blatant breach of privacy, you bolt for your door, shutting it quietly. Your heart is racing, thrumming loudly in your ears, and your cheeks burn so hot you feel like you could combust just standing there. There could be no mistake, your name had come from Tovar's lips mixed with the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. 

...How the HELL were you supposed to sleep tonight? 

---

The next week or so, you try your utmost to act normally around your roommate, still preparing meals, or covering him with a blanket if you come home late and find him on the couch. But every night plays out the same once you’re safely behind your bedroom door. Those lewd moans lacing your name in his gruff, husky voice. The thought of them caused the heat to pool in your belly every time, without fail. You'd find yourself seeking your own high, getting off to the thought of him over you, moaning your name in your ear. God how you want him. 

There were times where you thought you had built up the courage to tell him that you had heard him, but as soon as those dark eyes meet with yours, all thoughts vacate your mind and you end up a babbling wreck. This was going to kill you, you were sure of it. 

The desperation and desire does nothing but mount the longer this drags on, to the point where even at work you can't seem to manage to keep your thoughts off of the handsome Spaniard sharing your small apartment. Word from your manager saying you're able to head home almost an hour early is a welcome reprieve and your home is a welcome sight as you cross the threshold before immediately making your way to your room, kicking the door closed behind you. Or, mostly closed, anyways. That didn't matter, Tovar wasn't going to be home for several hours. You'd be cleaned up and calmed down by then for sure. 

Shedding your clothes, you sprawl on your bed, slowly dancing gentle caresses over your skin. The pads of your fingers ghost around your nipples before you squeeze both breasts. You let out a quiet sigh as your eyes slip closed. Your imagination runs wild as you picture Tovar above you, his warm breath brushing over your skin, raising goosebumps along it. You shiver at the thought of him whispering your name against the shell of your ear, yearning to feel his stubble scratching against your cheek as he drags kisses down your jaw. 

Your hand finally dips between your legs, spreading yourself and coating your fingers in your own arousal before drifting back up to twirl around your delicate bundle of nerves. Your hips arch up off of the bed under your ministrations, wishing it was Tovar's fingers drawing these moans from your lips rather than your own. His name slips out before you can stop yourself, completely lost in the fantasy of your roommate pinning you to the bed, the image of him in just those loose sweats urging you forward as the heat coils tighter in your stomach, your fingers moving ever faster as you pleasure yourself. "Fuck...Tovar...haaa..." You hiss between clenched teeth as you continue to work, drawing yourself ever closer. It's when you imagine him whispering terms of endearment to you in his native tongue that sounds so good on his lips that you lose yourself completely, tipping over that precipice of pleasure with a long keen of his name, back arched. 

You fall back against the bed, panting as the waves of your orgasm slowly abate, leaving you in a happy haze as you get up to go and clean yourself. You're a mess, aren't you? Unable to think of anything but your roommate pleasuring you, which is definitely not what he signed up for when he agreed to your offer of a place to stay. You ponder how much longer this living arrangement is going to last. He has a steady job now, a steady paycheck. That, coupled with what he already has saved...he would probably be off to find a place of his own soon, and that thought made you sadder than you would care to admit. You can always ask him to stay, but would that be too forward? There was no harm in asking, right? He'd understand, right? Tovar was a bit of a grump, but he was at least understanding with most things....usually. With a grumble that sounds a bit too much like your roommate's, you finish your shower, getting dressed before heading to the living room, nearly hitting the roof when you see Tovar sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. He glances up at you when he hears your gasp, that damn eyebrow quirked up again before his gaze fixes back on his phone. 

"I wasn't expecting you home for another couple of hours, Tovar." You try to make the comment sound offhand as you head into the kitchen to raid the fridge for dinner ideas. 

"Got off early." Oh God, his voice was gruffer than usual and the heat was already pooling in your core again. 

"Well that's good. You've been working late pretty much every night since you started." You settled on just grabbing two beers from the fridge, bringing one over to him after opening it. He just nods, taking a sip of his drink. 

"They let me off because apparently threatening to break William's arm for being an idiot isn't proper etiquette." Your mouth falls open and your eyebrows raise as you stare at him. He looks up at you and you see the glimmer of humor in his eyes, causing your shoulders to relax and a smile to cross your face. 

"Tovar, I never pegged you for a joking man." You chuckle as you make your way back into the kitchen, pulling out the takeout menus. "I don't feel like cooking tonight, come figure out where you wanna order from, what do you want?" You lean against the counter, flipping through menus with your back turned to him, doing your best to keep your mind from wandering to the man sitting on your couch. You jump a little when a hand finds your left hip, the other bracing against the counter as Tovar leans up against you. Instantly your face grows hot and your mouth goes dry at the feeling of him so utterly close to you. The hand on your hip feels electric and you struggle to keep your breathing under control. 

"What I want, hermossa?" His voice is low as he brings his head down level to yours. "Are you an option?" Your knees give then and there and if you hadn't been holding on to the counter, you would have hit the floor. Tovar's grip on your hip tightens and he presses up against you, pinning you to the counter as you tremble against him. "Well?" he nearly growls into your ear, and you squeak out an affirmative as his nose trails a line from your ear down your neck to your shoulder where he places a kiss at the junction before nipping it gently. A shudder runs through your body and you're sure at any moment your eyes would open as you wake from this delicious dream. There is no way this could be real. 

You could feel him pressing up against your backside through your clothes and you swallow thickly at just how big he feels. Your imagination had not prepared you for this. The fingers of his left hand dig into your hip as his lips attach to your neck, sucking and nibbling till a dark mark is left. The sound he makes after leaving his mark is proud and dammit your knees just won't stop shaking.  

"Pero," he whispers suddenly into your ear and your eyes open. You turn your head to look at him, confused. "The next time I hear you moaning my name, I want it to be my proper name." His eyes were so dark and lust blown, they caught you so off guard that you almost didn't put two and two together. 

"N...next time? What do you mean next-." You cut yourself off as you freeze in realization. "Oh my God...you...you heard what I was...earlier you heard..." Pero smirks wickedly and nods. 

"You should really close your door, hermossa, if you don't want to be heard." His hand that had been resting on the bar comes up to turn your head just a little more, gripping your chin to bring your lips to his in a firm kiss that you quickly find yourself melting into. For as gruff as he sounded, Pero's lips were so damn soft. You crane your neck to press deeper into the kiss, drinking him in as much as humanly possible as you press your backside against him. He growls into the kiss as you grind against him, his hand letting go of your chin to run his fingers down your body, slipping under the hem of your tank top. Goosebumps break out along your skin the feeling of his calloused fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. In a sudden moment of boldness, you grab his wrist and lower his hand, helping to slip his fingers under the waistband of your pants and he groans into your mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you lick up into his mouth, desperation and a burning need tinting every single action. His tongue dances with yours as his fingers rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, drawing a whimper from your lips. 

He's the first to break the kiss, chuckling darkly against your lips. "You are a mess. Already so wet for me. Did your fantasy do me no justice to quell that ache between your legs?" All you can to do to respond is let out a high pitched whine at his lewd question, grinding down on his fingers, desperate for that delicious friction. 

"P-Pero...Please..." Your voice is a whimper as you open your eyes to look up at him, the desperation in them clear as day. He leans in, grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, pulling back until your lip slips from between them with a gasp from you. 

"I like the sound of your voice when you beg, maravillosa." You didn't think his voice could get any lower than it was, and the sound of desire that laced his words would have hand you on the ground if he hadn't been holding on to you. His fingers slowly slip under your panties, rubbing your mound before parting your lips to coat his fingers in your slick. "So fucking wet for me." You whimper again, nodding as you cling to his arm, grinding down your hips. A jolt fires through you as he finally swirls the pad of his finger around your clit, and you let out a strangled cry, clenching your eyes closed. Pero chuckles in your ear, nibbling at the lobe before moving down your neck to suck another mark as his finger rubs the most tortuously slow circles against you. You were losing your mind and needed so much much. 

"I'll beg all you want, please, PLEASE Pero, give me more. I need more," you keen, bucking your hips against his hand. Thankfully, he obliges, slipping a finger inside of you with ease and you let out a content sigh, grinding down against his hand. He curls his finger against your walls, searching for the perfect spot that he knows will have you seeing stars. When you nearly scream, he grins against your skin, nipping at his latest mark before adding a second, then third finger, slowly thrusting them in and out of you, meeting the thrusts of your hips. The stretch of his fingers is delicious, the bump of his thumb against your clit with every thrust bringing you closer and closer as your nails dig into his arm. 

His lips trace along your ear still, and he whispers to you with that voice so low it draws a groan from your lips. "I want you to cum for me, hermossa. Cum and let me hear my name on your lips." He punctuates his demand with a nip at your ear and you lose it, coming undone around his hand. Your walls clench around his fingers as you throw your head back against his shoulder, your arousal absolutely coating his fingers as his name pours from your lips as reverent as a prayer. He coaxes you gently through your orgasm with slow thrusts before slipping his fingers from you. When he puts them in his own mouth, moaning deliciously at the taste of you on his fingers, you could swear you were about to cum again just from the erotic sight. Your hands moving on their own, you grab his wrist and pull his fingers from his mouth. Looking up at him with the most innocent eyes you can manage, you bring his fingers to your lips, taking them in your own mouth. You moan at the taste of him mixed with your own arousal, running your tongue along the digits. The light in his eyes turns absolutely feral and he spins you around, reconnecting his lips with your, one hand holding your hips to his, one hand at the base of your skull, crushing your lips to his with a passion that literally takes your breath away. Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him closer to you as you drag your nails down his back, relishing in the shiver that runs through his body as you do. 

When he breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your jaw, you let your head fall back to grant him better access, trembling in anticipation and he forces your legs apart with his knee, bringing it up to grind mercilessly against you. The whimpers he draws from you only spur him on further. 

"P-Pero I need you. Please," you beg shamelessly, all rationale replaced by the burning desire for the man who currently had you pinned to the counter. The growl against your neck goes straight to your core as Pero drops both hands to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting them around his waist, holding you up against him. Your own arms wrap around him, tangling in the curls at the base of his neck as he turns, carrying you to his bedroom. The blood in your veins courses with such excitement that you couldn't help the giggle that bubbles out of your throat. 

Gracelessly, he tosses you on to the bed and you bounce, grinning up at him like some Cheshire cat as he strips out of his shirt. You take your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes rake up and down his figure. Taught skin covered corded muscle, something you know he worked very hard to maintain given how often he used the gym at your complex. He joins you on the bed, crawling up to you with the most intense look in his eyes. His fingers tug at the hem of your tank, tugging it up. 

"This. Off with it," he growls and you nod, nearly ripping the offending article from your body as he watches approvingly. Reaching around you, he quickly undoes the clasp of your bra, tossing it to join the discarded clothes. A hunger for you shines in his eyes as he takes you in, the intensity of his stare bringing a sudden shyness to the forefront of your mind. You shrink in on yourself, bringing your arms up to cover your chest, but he is having none of it. He takes your wrists, pulling your arms away from your chest as he looks up at you. "Hermossa, do not hide your glory from me." The gentle command sends a rush of adrenaline through your body and you nod, arms relaxing in his grasp. He lays you back, rough hands running up your arms and over your chest where he massages your breasts, pinching the nipples just hard enough to cause your back to arch off the bed before they continue down over your stomach, finally coming to rest on your hips. The feeling was better than anything your imagination could have possibly dreamt up. "How many times I have dreamt of this..." 

He leans over you to press a fierce kiss to your lips that quickly migrates along your jawline, following the line of your neck down to your chest. His stubble rubs deliciously against your skin, raising bumps along its path. Your fingers tangle in his hair, hips bucking up against him as he takes your left breast in his mouth, alternating between sucking, nibbling, and lavishing it with kisses until it borders on sore before switching to rain the same attention over the other. A whimper of longing escapes your lips and he glances up from his ministrations with a predatory grin before he trails kisses lower, over your naval and down to the hem of your pants. Greedy fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them off with a quick motion, your panties along with them. The cool air on your core sends a shiver rocketing through your body. 

"Such a beautiful sight," he mumbles, his hands grabbing your hips firmly as he makes himself comfortable between your legs. You do your best to still the trembling in your legs, but to no avail as he runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, his warm breath sending tingles across your skin. He repeats the gesture for the other side before letting go of one of your hips to drag a finger up your dripping slit, gathering your arousal on his finger. The gasp you let out is one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard, and he craves more. He wants to see just how many sounds he could draw from those pretty lips of yours, but his patience is wearing thin, his self control slipping. He presses the flat of his tongue against you, licking the whole of you before spreading your lips to suck your swollen clit into his mouth, running his tongue around it in quick circles. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it and he groans at the feeling, his cock twitching in his sweatpants. Your hips buck against his mouth, and he lays his arm across your hips, holding you in place. 

As he continues his ministrations, begs and moans spill from your lips in an endless, nearly incoherent stream, and each time you say his name he drags his teeth lightly over your clit, sending an electric shock through your entire body. Your moans grow higher and higher in pitch until you are screaming his name, tugging harshly on his hair as you cum for him the second time, spilling over his tongue as he eagerly licks it up. He pushes himself up and off the bed, licking his lips as he watches you laying on his bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath from your orgasm, eyes hazy with pleasure. He quickly rids himself of his pants and smirks when he sees how your eyes widen at the sight of him. Opening his bedside table, he pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on, hissing at the feeling before he crawls back over your body, connecting his lips to yours. The taste of yourself on his lips draws a moan from you as you pull him against you, wrapping your legs around his waist. With a bite to your bottom lip, you feel him pressing against you. You break the kiss and gaze up into his lust filled eyes with a gaze that surely rivaled his own in terms of need and want and he hesitates, watching you. You lean up, ghosting your lips across his ear and he shivers as you speak. 

"Fuck me, Pero." 

You need say no more as your words start a fire inside of him. He presses into you and your head falls back against the pillow, your jaw going slack at the stretch as he fills you. With shallow thrusts he works his way into you until he is fully seated inside of you, his own body trembling at the feeling of your heat totally encompassing him. He groans as his head falls against your neck when your walls flutter around him, the stubble and mustache tickling at your skin. 

"Te sientes como el cielo..." He mutters against your neck, your pulse racing under his lips. 

"Pero, fuck, please move. Please, I can't take this." You cry as he snaps his hips against you, lifting his face from your neck enough to watch your face contort in pleasure as he sets up a brutal pace, fucking into you hard enough to shake the bed. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging into the skin there which causes his hips to stutter for a moment before he regains his pace. Mutters in Spanish pour from his lips in the most gorgeous song you have ever heard as he ruts into you. When his hand moves to where the two of you are joined to rub aggressive circles against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, you scream his name in a way that has his stomach tightening. 

"Won't...last..." He grunts, but all you can do is nod and cry out. His face falls against your neck again, stubble scratching at your skin. His teeth find purchase against the soft flesh of your neck and that is all you need to come tumbling over the edge. Your walls bare down on his cock and he growls against your skin, pulling you through your orgasm before his hips slam against yours, the moan of your name on his lips as his own release washes over him. He stills inside you, panting against your neck as he tries to regain his breath. Your arms hold him to you for as long as you can, worried that when he pulls away this would all disappear and you would be standing in your kitchen as if nothing had happened. 

After a few moments, he slowly slips out of you, propping himself up on his elbows over you to look over your face. His face still carried that borderline grumpy look, but the edges were softened, gentle. His fingers lift to delicately trace along your jaw and your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch. 

"Of all the times I have imagined this very thing, nothing compares to the actual feeling of you..." You open your eyes to look up at him, your heart swelling in your chest. You open your mouth to speak, but once again find yourself at a loss for words. He gives the smallest glimpse of a smile before getting up to clean himself off, coming back to join you in bed. He gathers you into his arms, pulling the blanket over the both of you. Once again you find your ear pressed against his chest, the heartbeat strong and steady.  Your mind begins to race at the thought of what had just happened, and Pero feels you stiffen in his arms. His fingers trace lines along your spine in an attempt to soothe you, grunting in question. 

"Please don't leave..." you whisper against his chest, so quiet he isn't sure he hears you. 

"What was that?" 

"Please...please don't leave. You have a job now and you're making money and can afford your own place and I know I said this was a temporary thing till you got back on your feet but," You look up at him with watery eyes. "But I don't want you to leave...I want you to stay here, with me." He looks down at you with an unreadable face, his fingers stilling on your back. 

"Maravillosa... I would not do such a thing to you." His gruff voice was still coated in the honey warmth of his own release, and it warmed you through. "I will go nowhere, I swear to you."  At his words, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding, relaxing into his arms to let your cheek rest against his chest. 

Pero Tovar is not a soft man. He is war hardened. A man of few words. His face always borders on a scowl when he is awake, but when he looks at you, his eyes soften just a touch, the crease in his brow smoothing ever so slightly. Pero Tovar is a grumpy Spaniard, but he is your grumpy Spaniard, and that is all that mattered. 

-----------

Translations:

gruñón : Grumpy Hermossa: Beautiful Amiga: friend Maravillosa : Marvelous or gorgeous Te sientes como el cielo... : You feel like heaven

Tag list:  @yespolkadotkitty​, @lackofhonor​, @cryptkeepersoul​ Tag list is open! Requests are open!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ghost Brother AU

What’s this??? A crossover between Danny Phantom and Miraculous Ladybug!?!?!? Yes!!!  (I have no clue how many people in the ml fandom have watched DP, but I’m going to try to describe it as best as possible without retelling DP’s plot)

So, during Ultimate Enemy, Clockwork doesn’t mess with the timeline and save Danny’s family, so not only does Danny have to live with the idea that one day he might become evil, but he’s also an orphan now. He’s 14, Marinette’s 11. 

To avoid living with his nemesis, Vlad Masters, and risk becoming Evil Danny, he runs away. Specifically to Paris, because he doesn’t think Vlad would look for him overseas and because he took french in high school.

Note: Danny is not good at French.

He ends up living on the streets for a few months, using his powers to steal food from dumpsters and sleep in inaccessible places. It works pretty well until he runs into Tom Dupain during one of his raids on the  Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’s dumpster. 

Tom has Big Dad Energy and takes the extremely skinny teenager who barely speaks French inside and he and Sabine feed him. They manage to understand that Danny is an orphan runaway and that he's really afraid of his uncle.

Danny’s smart enough to use a fake name in this au, so he says his name is Samson Foley, Sammy for short. 

Because of this, when Tom and Sabine try to search for him, it doesn’t pop up, making them think that his uncle doesn’t care about him and that he’s right to runaway. 

The language barrier makes them think a lot of things, like “Sammy’s” parents have been dead for a long time and he’s been living with his uncle since. 

Even though “Sammy” doesn’t have papers, they can’t register him as family or send him to school, so Tom and Sabine say that he’s Tom’s distant cousin, Dan “Danny” Manson, who got kicked out, so he’s paying for a room in their house by working in the bakery (they’ve been needing extra hands anyway). He ends up doing school work online and learning to bake with Tom in back. 

Marinette wakes up the next day to discover she has an entire brother now and she’s thrilled. He’s kind of awkward around her for the first few weeks, but with his French improving daily and Mari being endearing, he resolves to become the best big brother ever. 

Tom and Sabine didn’t intend to start seeing Danny as a son, but he’s so good with Mari and so endearing that they can’t help it. And he sees them as parents too. They around the first year he lived with them, they asked if he would like to call them Maman and Pere and he breaks down crying.  

Danny gets therapy for his grief and guilt. He almost doesn’t want to go because it reminds him too much of Jazz, but Mari convinces him after finding him crying in the bathroom. 

Also, Danny is trans in this au. Taking T plus all the lifting in the bakery has left Danny ripped. 

Danny’s 17 when Stoneheart attacks and almost considers fighting him--those superhero instincts die hard--until Ladybug and Chat Noir appear. He’s relieved since if Phantom suddenly appears in Paris, Vlad and the Guys in White would know where to find him. 

Over the next month, he thinks its weird that Marinette’s started eating more and gaining muscle, but chalks it up to puberty. He’s more concerned about why her class has the biggest akuma population. He resolves to teach Mari marital arts to protect herself. 

He doesn’t meet Ladybug herself until Animan and, as a former superhero who was really bad at keeping his identity, he became really suspicious of the fact that Ladybug knew who he was without them meeting. However, he doesn’t know for sure until he sees her transform in front of him during the events of Befana. 

He ducks out of sight before she sees him, thinking “Jesus, this is how Jazz must have felt.” 

Like Jazz, he resolves himself to waiting for her to tell him herself and helping as indirectly as possible. Mainly, by working to find Hawkmoth. 

[sylvies-chen]

Brettsey please “so not to be rude or anything but i’ve been coming to this cemetery at this time on this day every week for fucking years and i’ve always been alone up until now seriously what the hell” au

Ok anon I REALLY have to apologize because this request has been sitting in my inbox for probably a month or two now but I didn’t get the inspo to finish this until last night. That being said, I got this into a short little oneshot so I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: alternate universe, grief, mourning, light emotional hurt/comfort, meet cute

Word count: 2922

183 days.

It’s been 183 days since Sylvie last visited Julie. 183 days thinking about how things should have been different. How Julie was supposed to survive, how her and Scott and Amelia were supposed to be a family. How Sylvie was supposed to reconnect with her, to finally know the woman who had given Sylvie her own life’s blood.

She was supposed to have more time.

Instead, Sylvie ends up feeling like more of a stranger to Julie than ever. The last time she visited was the funeral, and that hadn’t done much for her in terms of closure. If anything, it made her feel more out of place. Random strangers came up to her, asking how she knew Julie. Sylvie can still remember the confused looks on their face as she’d told them Julie was her birth mother who had given her up at sixteen years old, and the awkward condolences that came stuttering out of their mouths afterwards. She’d felt too guilty eventually, and left early. Who the hell was she anyway, to be tainting everyone’s view of her birth mother at her own funeral?

She hasn’t been to visit Julie’s grave ever since. All Sylvie had done was stay with parents for a few days to clear her head. A few days turned into a few weeks, and then a few months. Today marks month six of her stay there. Her parents had told her they’d be happy to have her. They hadn’t been receptive to the idea of Sylvie meeting Julie in the first place, so they were more than willing to help her through the loss. The only condition was that she had to go to therapy and work through her grief, which Sylvie happily agreed to. But last week, her therapist suggested she visit Julie’s grave to get ‘true closure’, whatever that means. It’s a strange idea to Sylvie but nothing else seems to be working. Her boss had assured her that Fowlerton was much too peaceful (the polite way of calling the town boring, and rightfully so) and it would do just fine without its favourite paramedic for a few days. So, reluctantly, she accepted.

That’s why Sylvie’s now halfway through an hour-long drive to Chicago, all the way back to the cemetery. She buys hydrangeas at a tiny flower shop she passes by when she first enters Chicago territory. They’re Julie’s favourite. They were Julie’s favourite

Her fingers anxiously tap at the wheel when she finally pulls into the cemetery. It’s a dreary Sunday, grey clouds hovering in the sky bringing the prominent threat of rain. The graveyard is empty when she gets there, from the looks of it, except for one single person. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a man around her age sitting on a bench near a grave, his eyes observing her curiously from over his shoulder. He’s not someone she knows-- she doesn’t really know many people here in Chicago after all-- but she ignores his lingering eyes. Shades of grey stick out against the field of green and wilted flowers are scattered across other tombstones. It feels like a ghost town, for lack of a better term. It’s gloomy and it looks like no one’s visited this place in a while. Even for a cemetery, the sight is a depressing one.

Sylvie slams her car door shut and takes a deep breath. Relax, she thinks. Just a quick drop by to see her, place the flowers, and then leave. You can get through this.

She makes a beeline towards Julie’s grave, less than 100 feet away, and stops dead in her tracks when she gets there. Her feet feel heavy in her pink rain boots, sticking out like a sore thumb against her black coat as she observes the tombstone.

Julie Walters

Loving wife and daughter

1973 - 2019

Sylvie doesn’t know how to feel reading those words. A whole life, one she only scratched the surface of, reduced to a mere four words and eight numbers. It’s underwhelming, and she doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Julie’s entire being wasn’t etched onto stone or insulted that they could summarize her in so few words.

Maybe it’s for the best. What else would they put on there anyway: that she was a flawed human who left behind a child who she wasn’t ready to have, only to die before she could see her second daughter years later when she was finally ready for one? When she was finally ready to reconcile with her first born? Yeah, it was definitely for the best.

She places the bouquet of hydrangeas on the wet grass next to the tombstone and stands back. Man, this is harder than she thought. The words are there, racing in her head, but they don’t come out. Every time she wants to say something, it gets caught in the back of her throat.

Sylvie’s trying to pick from a list of infinite questions and countless ways to begin when she feels a chill on the back of her neck. At that moment, a voice comes from behind her. “Hi, are y--”

“Ah!” Sylvie shrieks, the voice startling her. She nearly jumps out of her skin as she turns around in shock, only to see a guy standing in front of her. It’s the same guy, she realizes, that had been staring at her earlier. Now, up close, she guesses that he can’t be all that much older that she is. He has blonde hair that’s short at the back and longer at the front, his eyes a soft shade of blue-green. His jacket and boots are a little worn but other than that, he looks completely normal. Except for the fact that he’s the only other person in this whole cemetery, and he just came up to her from behind without making a sound.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assures her, his hands up in surrender.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Sylvie lets out a big breath, shaking off the nerves from the jumpscare.

“Not to be rude or anything, but I just-- I’m usually the only one here,” he explains awkwardly.

“Are you a groundskeeper or something? I can leave if you guys need me to.”

“No no,” he laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. “I work in construction, actually. But I’ve uh.. I’ve been coming here the same time, every Sunday for years now to visit my dad. Nobody’s ever here when I am, so I figured you must be new.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers. So okay, he’s not such a creep after all. Actually, he’s kind of sweet. “He must have been a really great dad, for you to be visiting him every week after all these years.”

“He… had his moments,” the man explains delicately. “Honestly, he wasn’t the most affectionate guy. I guess I just don’t want to end up like him. Jaded and cruel.”

Sylvie nods understandingly, because she gets it. Her parents are loving and supportive, but she’s had some exes that have put her through the ringer. Her first real love, Harrison, had been manipulative and heartless. She’s always hoped that these awful guys wouldn’t change her for the worse either.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I’ll get out of your hair,” he offers. “But uh, here. Take this.” The guy holds out a single rose, which Sylvie accepts.

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion at the gesture. “A rose?”

“Yeah, well, my dad has been getting a dozen roses a week from my family since I was 17, he won’t turn over in his grave if he gets 11 just this one time. I’m sure whoever you’re grieving could use it a lot more than he could.”

Sylvie’s confused expression softens into gratitude, a faint smile pulling at her lips. This guy, whoever he is, didn’t have to do this for her. It’s a sweet gesture. He really does seem nice. No catches, no mind games, just simple and kind. She hasn’t met a guy like that in a while, at least not one her age. “That’s actually really sweet, thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she introduces herself awkwardly. Everything about this situation is awkward, frankly. But she extends her free hand anyway. “Sylvie Brett.”

“Matt Casey. I wish it were under nicer circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is wide as he takes her hand and shakes it. It’s confusing, but it makes Sylvie smile all the same.

“You seem awfully cheerful for someone who’s in a graveyard,” she observes.

“Like I said: I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m sort of all talked out now,” Matt explains with a shrug.

“Right,” she nods. “I wish I could relate. Normally I’m the one who’s cheerful and talkative, but it’s hard with this sort of thing. Everything I want to say just doesn’t seem to come out. Sometimes, I think if I start talking…”

“You’ll never stop?” He guesses.

“Yeah.” How did he know?

“Well I can tell you from experience that you definitely do stop talking at one point. I got all talked out two years ago. I looked around one day and realized I was talking about types of screwdrivers to my dad’s grave with no one else around. Eventually, you’ll run out of topics like I did. And then new ones will come, and you’ll talk some more, and then you get quiet again and then you just… stop talking.”

“I hope so. I’m a big talker-- I mean seriously, I never shut up-- but I just… I don’t know where to start with this one,” she explains.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you visiting?”

“Julie Walters.” She points to the tombstone in front of them. “My birth mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Sylvie’s heard those six little words before. She had to stomach every single insincere, fake utterance of sympathy when she was at the funeral. But for some reason, the way Matt says it to her makes her think he really means it. She’s not used to people meaning it when they offer their condolences. It’s strange. Then again, this whole interaction is strange. “It’s okay,” she brushes it off.

“It’s not. At least, it doesn’t have to be,” he soothes. Something about his voice is so horrifyingly comforting. It’s calm and low, and it feels like warm tea and honey in her ears. It’s enough to make her want to burst into tears right then and there .

Sylvie takes a deep breath and then, before she can stop herself, breaks the silence to ramble. “I love my parents, you know? They raised me, they fed me, they’re responsible for the person I’ve become. But I’d always wondered where I came from, why my birth parents gave me up for adoption. And when Julie sought me out, I panicked at first. I wasn’t ready to give up that fantasy in my head of who she was, to have all my questions answered. But now I’m standing here, visiting her grave for the first time in the six months since her funeral by recommendation of my stupid grief counselor, and I… I just can’t stop thinking of all the questions I was too scared to ask. And man, it sucks.”

Matt stands there and nods understandingly, his gaze unwavering even as she turns her eyes towards Julie’s tombstone.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, wiping tears from her cheek. “We just met, and I’m rambling, and--”

“No no, it’s good for you,” he assures her. “ And I don’t mind it, I-- I like hearing you talk.”

“Oh.” Sylvie looks around, unsure of what to say. This Matt Casey guy, whoever he is, hasn’t run for the hills by now which is strange to say the least. But weirdly, it’s comforting.

“You’re right, you know,” he continues, switching the subject. “It sucks. Life… life sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agrees, letting out a small laugh. This makes Matt laugh a little, which makes Sylvie laugh even more, until they’re both smiling and giggling in a cemetery like a bunch of blushing lunatics. It’s quite possibly the weirdest thing Sylvie’s ever experienced and yet somehow, it’s exactly what she needed. A bright light in the vast sea of darkness.

“You’re smiling again, that’s a good sign.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Am I crazy for that? I mean, I’m smiling and laughing in a graveyard with somebody I just met. Isn’t that weird?”

“A little,” he admits with a shy laugh. “But you’re not crazy. Sometimes people need a little bit of weirdness in their lives.”

“I guess stranger things have happened,” Sylvie shrugs playfully.

“Yeah.” He flashes her another smile before turning his attention towards Julie’s grave and facing it with her. Sylvie stares at the marked stone. She fondly remembers the few memories she had with Julie, and the countless ones they never got around to. It’s unfortunate, really, but it feels more manageable with someone there. Even if it’s someone she barely knows. Matt stands with her for a moment, the peace and quiet taking over. It’s nice. Sylvie’s never had silence be so comforting; it’s always made her anxious and uncomfortable up until now. Matt sure is a puzzling guy in that sense. She sneaks a peek at him through the corner of her eye, this guy who’s supporting her even though they just met. He’s lost someone too, he could be going back to his father’s tombstone. Instead, he’s staying there with her. Sylvie decides at that moment that Matt Casey is an unfailingly kind, weirdly solid guy. And, admittedly, a little attractive. Ok, a lot attractive.

“Hey, and don’t worry,” she adds after a few minutes of silence, “about being like your father. We aren’t our parents. And you seem… good. That’s all you can ask for I guess, is to be one of the good ones.”

“Thanks,” he nods, his eyes filled with a bit of confusion and a bit of something else Sylvie can’t quite place. Wonder, almost.

Sylvie turns back to Julie’s grave, tracing over the words with her eyes. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so scary. Sylvie’s still sad, and wounds take time to scar over, but it doesn’t feel like she’s bleeding out anymore. She sighs, and she can sense the weight on her shoulders blowing away into the wind.

Unfortunately, when the sorrow blows away with the wind, it brings in the rain.

“Oh god,” Matt groans, wincing while looking up just on time to catch a raindrop in his eye. He squints and turns to Sylvie, who’s standing there laughing. “I didn’t see this in the weather forecast for today.”

“Me neither,” she giggles. “Today’s full of unexpected things, I guess.”

“It is.” He gives her a shy smile, nodding in agreement.

“Do you mind the rain?” She asks, looking up at the gloomy sky with a smile on her face.

“No,” he replies gently.

“Me neither.”

They stand there, hoods pulled away from their heads, letting the rain wash over them. There’s no shelter in sight anyway. They talk for a while about Chicago, about their lives, their friends, things that make them happy. But then they fall into a comfortable silence, smiling peacefully in the rain. Sylvie only moves a few times to brush raindrops off of the bouquet of flowers she’d placed at Julie’s grave. She looks at it, the name and the date etched in stone, and she doesn’t feel sick anymore. No questions unanswered, no bitterness. Her loss feels manageable.

She’s okay. More than okay.

“Hey, this might sound a little crazy, and I know we just met,” Matt starts after a while, “but would you want to… go get dinner or something?”

“What, like a date?” She snorts at her own joke, the idea being very nice in theory but impossible. It’s seriously impossible that this guy is actually asking her out, right?

“Er, yeah,” he nods. “Like a date.”

Oh. Okay, so he was asking her out. This is unfamiliar territory for Sylvie. She’s been asked out before, of course, by the small-town idiots in Fowlerton. But by an admittedly very good-looking stranger, under these circumstances no less? It’s a bit of a bizarre situation. That’s the crux of it, though. Matt Casey, whoever he is under all these sweet, charming layers, doesn’t feel like a stranger. Somehow, through one chance encounter, it feels like catching up with an old friend.

When she considers the facts, she’s had fun today. Every interaction they’ve had has come with such ease, and from a place of goodness and light. Yeah, maybe it’ll go absolutely nowhere. But one date in a public place won’t hurt her. She’s in Chicago for the rest of the weekend anyway. If anything, going out with someone like Matt Casey would do her a lot of good. And she hadn’t realized it until now but god, she really really wants to. So she does.

“I’d like that,” she finally replies while brushing rain off of her coat.

“Yeah?” He asks to make sure, his face lighting up with hope and slight excitement. Sylvie finds it adorable.

“Yeah,” she assures him.

He nods and grins excitedly as he leans in closer, and Sylvie feels the happiest she’s felt in a long time when he finally replies. “Me too.”

[lupin72]

Chenford fic prompt-Stuck in an Elevator

For the anon who asked for a Chenford stuck in an elevator fic. Thank you for your lovely words. I hope you like it.

"One hour to go," Lucy chirped, checking the clock on the dashboard. One hour. And then she was a full fledged cop. She had almost done it.

It hadn't been the easiest two years of her life to put it lightly. She'd been kidnapped by a serial killer, her Captain had died, she'd broken up with her first serious boyfriend, her TO was shot on the first day and months later had almost died again, she'd thought she could get a disease from a used needle and her dad had ended up in the ED.

But it had no means been the worst either. 

She was still getting to work with two of her best friends and the TO, that had two years ago seemed like he was going to do his utmost best to flush her out in a week, she now counted as a friend.

It was for that reason that, despite her excitement at being qualified, a part of her was dreading it. The voice had been getting louder all day, reminding her that even though Tim had made the last three months as hard as he could (she took it as the compliment he intended and perhaps his own care for her wellbeing) she would miss being with him. His voice, despite what it often had to say, had become a constant to her. His presence at her side was a guarantee. She hadn't realized just how much she relied on him to feel safe until she was faced with the fact that tomorrow? He wouldn't be there . 

So she had done her best to drown it out. Teasing him relentlessly about how happy he must be, counting down the seconds until she was free and he got a new rookie to torture.

Tim had remained his grumpy self throughout all of it, not really quipping back as she had thought he would.

"I can tell the time Boot and you would do well to remember, you aren't done yet." He paused as a call came in for a violent disturbance at a nearby office block. Apparently a CEO wasn't taking it too well that his company was going into liquidation.

Tim told them they were on their way.

"Is it wrong I was hoping for a bit more excitement for our last call?"

"Have I taught you nothing, Boot," Tim snarled. The venom in his voice was almost akin to their first shift that Lucy wasn't sure if he was actually joking. But it was Tim, and they were working and he had been acting strange for a week and wasn't telling her why so she knew he wasn't.

"I know Sir, no easy calls," she replied before he could finish whatever rant he was gearing up for. Thankfully, the office block was round the corner or he would no doubt have continued it anyway.

They ran from the car and into the building where the receptionist informed them they should head to the 17th floor.

A small crowd waiting for the elevator parted at Tim's demand and they jumped in .

Lucy swallowed as the doors closed in front of her. The elevator music was an awkward contrast to the fast beating of her heart and their slightly heavy breaths. It was just a short sprint and there was no reason for her heart rate to be so high. Except for the tight confinement they found themselves in.

Only 17 floors, Lucy reminded herself. They would be out soon and she had to be ready for a tantrum. A quick glance to Tim confirmed his jaw was clenched and she knew that he was definitely not in the mood for her to express her need for the elevator to hurry the hell up.

She wasn't a fool. She had forced herself onto many elevator rides, promised herself that she wouldn't develop any sort of phobia. There hadn't been a ride as long as this one though and certainly not one where the tension between her fellow passenger already made the air stiffing. 

Floor 13. The door opened. Tim had his hand already on the close button as Lucy forced herself to apologize to the waiting people rather than getting off herself. The short interlude was welcome though and the daylight from the glass offices gave her some relief. It was enough for her to focus.

Just two more minutes, if that, and they would be out.

She looked up to Tim again, deciding if it was worth trying to thaw the tension just some before they had to work as a team to calm down the CEO, when suddenly the elevator went black.

And then it shuddered to a stop.

Lucy froze as she heard Tim curse from beside her and the pressing of buttons as he no doubt hit the emergency button.

It was probably lit up for situations like this, a welcome little glow in the corner no doubt. Except Lucy couldn't see it. Because she couldn't see anything but darkness. 

And her heart just about stopped.

What relief the brief stop had brought was now gone. The oxygen in the elevator dropped to nothing. She was back in the barrel. There with only darkness. The air grew thinner.

Her legs couldn't hold her up anymore and she fell to the floor. 

  "Chen!" Tim cried, "what the hell?" He dropped immediately to his knees the cry more from shock than anger. Despite how angry he had been at her just moments before. 

All day he had listened to her gloat about her dawning freedom. All day nothing but excitement at getting to be rid of him. As though she couldn't wait. As though she hated every minute of his company.

Sure that had been his plan at first. It always was with his rookies. He made them fear him to garner respect and to test just how good cops they would be. It wasn't out of cruelty or because he didn't care, he actually tended to care a lot about them, or their safety at least. After all that was his responsibility. 

And so what if he cared more about Lucy than the others, if she was the only rookie he could now call a friend. None of his rookies had been kidnapped before. Then again none of them had cried at the thought of him dying whilst sitting on the other end of the door, or recorded him books on tape to help him learn better, or talked him out of aiding his wife, or sent him food, or taken him paintballing for fun.

None of them had made him smile so much either.

And none had collapsed in a dark, broken down elevator.

"Chen can you hear me?" Tim asked, feeling around in the dark for her. He came to his senses and dug out his phone for a light. His hand it turned out was resting on her boot and she had curled herself into a ball.

"Lucy," he wasn't sure what made him say her name. He didn't call her that often. He was a professional through and through and he liked to remind himself that. Maybe at times he had to.

She didn't respond. Instead, her breaths remained loud and labored as though she was gasping for air.

The elevator wasn't large but there was more than enough oxygen and the vent made sure it would stay that way.

Tim moved his hand from Lucy's boot to her knee, the only part he could reach that felt somewhat acceptable to touch. "What's going on Boot? Talk to me." He tried to be gentle he really did  but he knew his voice, in its desperation, sounded harsh. 

He was met by silence but it gave him enough time to get his head together. And he realized what was going on for himself. 

He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

"Hey Lucy, its alright," his voice was thankfully softer now, to his ears anyway, "You're in an elevator with me, you're with Tim okay? You're not back there. You survived and you're safe now. We're just stuck for a minute or two and then we will be moving and going to handle that last call you've been celebrating okay?"

His words seemed to be going unheard and if anything she was getting worse.

At a loss, Tim turned to the glowing buttons. He had pressed the help call but maybe if he pressed it again he could get them help and get her out of there. His phone showed no signal.

He shifted to his weight to rise to his feet, when he felt a hand grab onto his arm.

"Tim," Lucy gasped, feebly pulling him towards her. "Don't leave me, please, please." 

"Hey," Tim immediately fell back to the ground and shuffled closer to her. "I'm not going anywhere Boot, I promise, I'm just trying to get us help." But his excuse fell on deaf ears as Lucy kept her grip on his vest firm.

"Okay, okay," Tim whispered, letting her hold him. "I'll call on the radios then alright?"

He took a few minutes to make the call, all whilst Lucy kept a tight hold on him. He didn't mention her stare, just that they needed to send the fire department to get them out and a unit to deal with the call.

He had been tempted to ask for an EMT but decided against it. He had faith .

"Tim," Lucy croaked, she was still tight in her ball but her grip on him had loosened some. "I’m sorry but can you talk to me? Please... I-"

"You don't need to explain Boot," Tim replied, he shuffled impossibly closer and, despite the voice that told him to remain professional, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. Her breathing was almost back to normal but from the tilt to her voice he knew what came next. He had seen enough panic attacks in his time and was expecting the sobs that he quickly felt her begin to shake with.

"I've got you, you're safe. Just picture those drinks you'll be having when we get out of here. Karaoke I think you said? Bit of a waste of a good night if you ask me but whatever."

He got a sort of hiccup at that.

The radio crackled and the voice announced that the fire department were on their way but maintenance was already at work. As if on cue the lights flickered on.

Lucy startled at the shock and Tim blinked at the sudden light.

She looked even more frail in the dark, curled up at his side. He had always been conscious of how impossibly small she was but seeing her curled up next to him she looked tiny. "See, they'll be getting us out soon. Trust the firemen to be taking their sweet time though."

Lucy blinked at Tim's words and he watched as she opened her eyes to look up at him.

The moment their eyes met he became aware of the intimate position they were in. But he couldn't bring himself to move. He told himself it was for her sake, he could still see the fear in her eyes, but he knew it wasn't just for her. 

She terrified him.

"Hi," he whispered. It came out more like a breath.

Lucy's breathing was still jagged, he could feel it shifting her body pressed against his but she managed her first response since the lights went out, "Hi."

Tim felt himself relax at seeing her almost back to her usual self.

"Think I can go ring that help button? I really, really want to scream at someone right about now."

A smile graced her features and Tim rose at her nod. 

He got his wish and barked at a janitor to get them out. Lucy doubted it was his words, and probably just luck, but she felt the elevator judder into action and she found that she had the strength to push to her feet. 

Tim turned to look at her and gave her a strong nod which she returned. 

They didn't speak about it until they were back in the shop.

"Sorry," Lucy confessed, "I just, it was dark and I-"

"Don’t apologize," Tim answered,  well aware this was the friendliest he had been in weeks. He didn't feel bad for it, it was all part of the Tim plan, but he knew when to switch that off. It was becoming harder not to press that switch recently. He wanted to be Tim around her more than Bradford, more than Sir. Hell he wanted so much more.

"This, the sort of mental scars you can't seem to get rid of, they don't need an apology. Not to me, not unless they effect your performance on the job. And I know they won't. If we had a perp in here, I know you would have handled it.

"Still, I'll book another appointment with my therapist, talk through some stuff, I've been meaning to anyway."

It wasn't just from the kidnapping. She left that unsaid. After her breakup with Emmet, after realizing she just wasn't ready to let someone in, she had been meaning to call.

But it wasn't just that either. She needed advice on how to change that, on how to let herself be open again because she had someone in mind who she really wanted to be open with.

When he stopped being her pain in the ass superior that was.

"Thank you, Tim. For your help in there and for well, everything else too. I couldn't have asked for a better TO. "

Tim made a signature gruff sound and his gaze remained fixated on the dashboard. Lucy followed it to see what was holding his attention and realized the time.

"You're officially free of me Chen," Tim spoke, turning to look at her. "Congratulations. And if you repeat what in about to say I'll make sure you get the worst calls for the next week but, you were right in that tape of yours. You are the best I've trained. And I think I might actually miss the constant noise. "

Lucy felt tears rise to her eyes and blinked them away. She could see he was holding something back himself but she wasn't sure what. Perhaps it was the come down of adrenaline, or the excitement of graduating but her request passed her lips before she could think it through.

"You know we were planning on going for drinks after shift, Nolan Jackson and me? Well erm do, do you want to come? I think Jackson was going to say to Lopez so it doesn't have to be weird or anything and you won't have to do karaoke but I just-"

"Yeah, I'd like that." Tim put her out of her misery and cut her ramble short. "Lucy."

Lucy blinked at the way he said her name, almost intimate. It seemed to carry an extra weight somehow, it was more than just a mark of her finishing the shift.

Maybe she could find out exactly what it meant over drinks. 

[olivia200312]

Sexy Car Wash~ Bay! Optimus x Human! Reader (Lemon)

Plot: Y/N decided to give Optimus a car was and dressed in her bikini. The Prime couldn't control himself but mate with her inside his truck.~ ;)

Ok, I did read about Bumblebee's car wash with the reader, but never about other bots. So I decided to give Optimus a chance. I know that Optimus is a truck and not a car, but I decided to call it a car wash. This one shot is a lemon!

This takes place in TF4 inside Cade's barn!

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

Note: the art goes to the owner!

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

Y/N was Cade's eldest daughter. She was 18. Yes, it meant that Tessa was younger than her. Only a year younger. Y/N simply followed college online. She had a lot of problems in high school. When Cade found out, he was so mad at the school and principal that he homeschooled Y/N. Tessa was lucky that she didn't have problems. Y/N decided to follow college online and finish her studies that way. She was more glad and happy in fact.

When Y/N was young, she watched how her dad fixed things. Sometimes even build things. She found it interesting and asked her dad if he could teach her. He gladly agreed. Y/N found it hard, but she was learning and she was getting better and better that at one point, she could do it herself!

Tessa was different. She didn't have interest in how her dad and her 1 year older sister were fixing and building things. Tessa was beautiful if you see her. You know, blond hair and blue (?) eyes. She focused more on fashion but that doesn't mean that she was a brat. She was in fact kind and helpful. She had a secret. She had a 20-year-old boyfriend named Shane. Tessa knew that if she introduced Shane to Cade, then oh boy. Troubles will come. But she did tell Y/N her secret and her, being a good sister she was, kept Tessa's secret.

Now, you both noticed that their mother was never mentioned here. Well, to tell you the sad truth, their mother wasn't alive. She died when Y/N and Tessa were very young. It was sad that some kids didn't know who their dead relatives were. But Cade was a good dad and told his daughters everything about their mother. He even showed photos.

Years later, when the girls were adults (well, not Tessa since she's 17), something unexpected happened that only will happen probably in the far future (or it were only fantasies). Cade brought one day an old truck home with Y/N. Now, Cade, Tessa, and Y/N had problems with money during that time. Tessa wanted Cade to sell the truck, but he simply said no. Y/N agreed with her dad. She had a feeling that it wasn't just a truck...

When Cade and Y/N were busy at the barn, they found that it wasn't a truck, but an actual Transformer! It was the leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime himself. Everyone was shocked. Lucas was there too. Even Tessa. When Optimus transformed, he was mad. He threatened the humans to stay away or else he'll kill them. Y/N wasn't blaming the Prime for it, but at KSI. They decided to team up with Lockdown and hunt the Autobots down... The sadly manages to kill Ratchet.

Once Optimus was calm thanks to Cade and Y/N, they all introduced themselves. The leader was thankful to Y/N and Cade. He also started to lay his optics on Cade's eldest daughter. He couldn't help but admire her beauty and personality. Even though when he was freaking tall, he actually can transform small. It's called a bipedal form. He didn't told and show it yet to others, but he did have a plan to show it very soon.

Y/N became very close to the leader of the Autobots. She fell in love with him. He was just so brave, smart, and strong. They got to know each other and chatted for hours.

Now~

Y/N just entered the barn. Her hair was in a ponytail and wore a loose F/C tanktop and shorts. She noticed how Optimus wasn't clean that she decided to give him a car wash. Well, maybe a truck wash since he was a truck and not a car. Still, car wash suited more perfectly.

"Hello, Optimus."

Optimus was in his Cybertronian form and was sitting on the ground. He looked down at Y/N and couldn't help but blush. She was wearing a bit of revealing clothes. "Hello, Y/N. Is there something you need?"

Y/N smiled. "I came here to give you a car wash since you're dirty. Do you mind if you're in your alt form?"

"Not at all, Y/N." He then transformed into his truck form and stood still. However, he can still speak.

"Are you ready, Optimus?"

"Yes, I am. Take your time much as you need."

Y/N smiled and got the water hose ready. She then turned the water on and started to spray Optimus. The water was a bit cold that the Prime wiggled a bit in surprise. Y/N giggled by his actions.

Once the Prime was wet enough, Y/N turned the water off and... took her tank top off and shorts, revealing her in a bikini. It was dark blue with red a bit mixed up. Just like Optimus' colors. Optimus blushed bright blue now while in his alt form. He started to think... dirty things about her. He was getting horny and turned on.

Y/N then grabbed a sponge and started to wash him. Optimus was watching her washing him. The soap on him was only used on vehicles and since Optimus was a truck, Y/N used it. The dirt was coming off very well. Y/N then put the soap in the bucket and grabbed the water hose. She turned it on and splashed the Prime. Once the soap was off, she turned the water hose off.

"Alright, now I need to wash your hood so I'm gonna climb on a ladder, ok?" Y/N said.

Optimus hummed. "Understood."

Y/N walked off to get the ladder, her hips moving. She felt Optimus watching her, but what she didn't know was that Prime was getting horny. He never thought that femme humans like Y/N could be sexy.

Y/N came back with the ladder and pressed it gently against Optimus' side and climbed. Once she was on the top, she made the hood wet with the water hose, and then she grabbed the sponge and washed. She heard Optimus purr and heck, even moan softly! Prime was feeling pleasure!

Y/N smirked and continued to tease him. "Enjoying it, Prime?"

Optimus was speechless. He was enjoying it but didn't expect that Y/N would tease him with her voice. Oh, she's going to get it...

Once Y/N was done washing, she sprayed to get the soap off. She then turned the water hose off and climbed down. "There you go, Prime. All clean."

"Thank you, Y/N. It was enjoyable."

Y/N smirked. "You definitely did, Prime. I heard you purr and even moan.~"

Y/N then walked off to put the stuff away. Optimus was blushing mad now. He was sure now going to teach her a lesson.

Y/N was about to put the water hose back to its place when suddenly she felt servos on her hips. Y/N yelped as she got turned around and dropped the water hose. She couldn't believe what she saw. It was Optimus! Only... smaller.

"H-How?"

Optimus chuckled. "When we were on Earth, Lennox made us these forms."

Y/N blushed. He was so sexy up close! She couldn't believe that Prime and others had these forms! And the Optimus' optics... they're so beautiful up close.

Suddenly Optimus smirked and backed Y/N into a wall. "You teased me, you know that?"

Y/N's face got redder. She didn't expect him to show this side of his. Usually, he's a calm, respectful, strong, brave, stern (etc) leader. But this side? Oh boy, this was new.

Y/N didn't respond. She was just lost.

Optimus chuckled deeply and leaned down towards her ear. "You need to be punished, my dear."

Y/N snapped awake and tried to escape, but Optimus quickly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Y/N squealed and yelped. She started to hit his hexa-lateral scapula. "Prime!"

Optimus chuckled and opened his truck and laid Y/N down on the backseat of the truck. He then got in too, closed the door, locked in and climbed on top of her, both of his servos besides Y/N's head.

"Are you ready to be punished, sweetspark?" His voice was deep and seductive that it cause Y/N to shiver.

Y/N's eyes filled up with lust. "Hell yes."

Optimus then smashed his dermas against her soft lips, kissing her roughly. Y/N kissed him back with force and Optimus' glossa was already in Y/N's mouth, marking her territory as his. They both were just lost in pure pleasure that they're going fast. Let's just say that Y/N was already in lacy bra and panties. They were dark blue with a bit red like Optimus' colors. She was in love with the leader ever since she met him.

Optimus was roughly sucking and kissing her neck. "Look at you, laying underneath me, wearing my colors. You're so beautiful..."

Y/N's arms were rubbing her hands over his entire hexa-lateral scapula. She was basically exploring and even scratching his paint in pleasure. Once Optimus was done, he leaned down and literally ripped her bra off.

"H-Hey!"

Optimus didn't say anything and just kisses her chest everywhere, especially her boobs. He read on the world wide web about humans so that he can learn more. He accidentally stumbled about bodies and read everything about it. He was surprised about some facts of male and female bodies.

Optimus buried his helm between her boobs and licks everywhere. They were just so soft and warm that he couldn't keep it. He also read that when female humans gave birth to babies, then they can feed them with milk through breasts. Optimus then took a nipple and started to suck. Y/N moaned while stroking his helm. Optimus then switched and gave other nipple attention. He even bit them softly! When he bit, then Y/N flinched. Her nipples were hard.

Once Optimus was done, he moved his helm lower until he reached Y/N's panties. He actually also used his own denta to pull it down. Y/N blushed but giggled. She even lifted her ass a bit up so that Optimus could pull her panties off with his denta. Once her panties were on the floor, Optimus spread Y/N's legs open and started to eat her out. Y/N moaned loud. She felt his glossa touching sensitive spots. "P-Prime!"

Optimus hummed while his glossa went deeper. He was enjoying the taste and he loved hearing Y/N's moans, squeals, and screams of pleasure. It was like music to his audio receptors. He continued to eat her out while Y/N was moaning and panting.

"I-I'm cumming!" Y/N said while panting.

"Cum for me," Optimus said in a deep voice.

Y/N shivered and moaned loud. She then came and Optimus licked her juices up. Y/N panted while she laid her head on the seat. Who knew that all of this pleasure could make you tired. But Optimus wasn't done yet. He wanted to claim the human girl as his. Only his. He towered above Y/N and looked deep into her eyes. Her cheeks were puffing pink. "You taste delicious, my dear. But are you ready to be claimed by me?" He purred.

Y/N blushed. She wasn't gonna lie. She was slightly nervous, but she wanted to be claimed by the mighty strong Prime. "Claim me, Prime. I want you so bad. Fuck me so hard till I can't walk."

Optimus growled. He was so ready to frag her so hard till she can't walk the next day. He began to push spike, who was free, into Y/N's wet human valve. Y/N felt tears building from the pain. The Prime was just so huge that he was stretching her walls. When Optimus was full, he gave Y/N to adjust. He whispered sweet things into her ear to distract her from the pain.

When Y/N felt that the pain was gone, she wrapped her legs around his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "M-Move."

Optimus then started in and out, causing Y/N to moan. The Prime grunted a bit of pleasure. He could feel that Y/N's walls started to tighten in pleasure.

"F-Faster! H-Harder!" Y/N begged.

Optimus gladly granted her wishes and went faster and harder. He growled in pleasure and hid his faceplate in the crook of her warm neck. Y/N started to moan loud and when Optimus hit her G-spot, she screamed. "R-Right there!"

Optimus then began to slam her G-spot many times that Y/N will for sure not walk the next day. He started to bite Y/N's neck to leave more hickeys. He purred while enjoying hearing Y/N's screams and moans in pleasure. Y/N felt a knot in her stomach. She was coming close. She then screamed Optimus' name in pleasure.

"O-Optimus! I-I'm cumming!"

"Cum for me," Optimus growled while continue to slam into her.

The truck was also moving a bit. You know... when people were having sex inside an alt. And look at that, Optimus and Y/N were having sex inside Optimus' truck. Good that others weren't in the barn or else they'll ve been suspicious and shocked. Y/N was also scratching Optimus' paint since the pleasure was unbelievable.

Y/N screamed and finally came. Her juices were over Optimus' spike and he growled lowly and came to a lot. Y/N's gasped a bit when she felt his warm seed deep inside of her. Even to her womb. Some cum even dripped down. Optimus stayed inside of Y/N for a few minutes before he pulled out. He then laid beside Y/N and pulled her in his arms. The human girl snuggled and fell asleep. Optimus fell into recharge as well.

Finally done. I'm busy with other stories. I'm trying to update more on my one shots books. I'm also surprisingly thinking to make a one shot book of Bowser. King of the Koopas and a dad as well from Mario. He isn't getting attention a lot. Not all villains are that bad then you think.

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

Hi! Can I request Hoseok from BTS with a pain kink? 😏

Hobi is my Bias Wrecker, I felt like I was betraying Jimin the entire time I was writing this... but I do love myself some sub!Hobi! 🥵🥵 Sorry for the long wait, I started writing this a while ago but got writers block about half way through.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!Hobi, fem!dom!reader, pegging, degradation, spanking, pain kink.

Mistress's Little Painslut

Hobi was sure you were just torturing him by now. He has had a crush on you since you both turned 17. You had originally been one of his sister's friends, but when you two met, no one could deny the immediate connection. You were there to cheer him on when he started dancing. You were the one to convince him that he should try out and become a trainee at BigHit. When he felt like quitting, you were always there to cheer him up, telling him all of his hard work would pay off. A few months later it did- he joined a boy group called BTS and became a worldwide phenomenon. You were there with him for everything. It wasn't a surprise he introduced you to the rest of his members as soon as he possibly could.

     Since you two have known each other since third grade, you are very comfortable around each other. You would sleep over at the dorms a lot- ARMY knew who you were a few months after BTS's debut and shipped you and Hobi hardcore so you didn't need to worry about scandals-, you would give each other 'friendly' kisses on the cheek, and were almost always seen out together. 

     Just like Hoseok, you were a dancer, and enjoyed learning all the BTS choreography by heart. You have been going to college for dancing for quite a few years now. It is common knowledge that dancers have amazing thighs, look at almost any Kpop dancer and you will see they have thighs of a greek god. So it was a given you loved looking at your best friend's thighs and ass- you had told him once if there's a nice ass you have to appreciate it. What was torturing him, however, was the fact that you liked to grab it.

     If you were just standing next to him, your hand was in his back pocket. After dancing with him, you would walk over and slap or squeeze his ass before you left. You had started doing it absentmindedly at this point. You would be looking down at your phone, not realizing he was right next to you, and you would just reach down and squeeze his ass. He liked when you did it absentmindedly though. When you just did it normally, you made sure not to hit too hard, just light enough for it to be friendly. But when you weren't thinking about it, you would grab him hard and, god, did he love it. He would have to bite his lip to make sure he wouldn't let out an embarrassingly loud sound and weird you out. He would always blush and tell you to stop with a chuckle, but he was sure if you did actually stopped, he would be on his knees begging you to do it again.

     The boys were throwing a party to celebrate them performing at the Grammys, though you were slightly pissed off that they weren't nominated for anything, but they decided to invite you anyway. It was just you, the boys, and a lot of alcohol. Luckily, you had a high alcohol tolerance, but Hobi didn't, so you made sure to check on him to make sure he wasn't completely wasted by the end of the night. You were all sitting in the living room, laughing at some dumb joke Jin had told (Yoongi was drunk enough to lay back and actually laugh at his horrible dad jokes). You looked down at your glass and saw it was almost empty.

     "I'm gonna go get another drink, anyone coming with?" You asked as you stood up from your spot on the couch between Hobi and Jimin, having to pry Jimin's arms off you in order to stand up. Hobi looked at his empty glass, decided he wasn't drunk enough yet and stood up to follow you.

     "I'll get something too." You both walked to the kitchen after seeing no one else was getting up. You reached into the fridge and got a coke and some whipped cream flavored vodka as your best friend just got a beer. You were pouring your drink next to Hobi, who was facing the counter and opening his beer with the bottle opener before pouring it in a glass. You absentmindedly reached down and gave his ass a harsh squeeze after you finished your drink. He was already tipsy, so he couldn't hold back the little whimper that left his lips. He was hoping it was quiet enough so you couldn't hear it, but when you froze in front of the fridge after putting away the bottle of vodka, he knew that wasn't the case. You slowly turned around and faced him with wide eyes, watching as his face suddenly lit up a fiery red. 

     "D-did you just-"

     "No!" He immediately cut you off before running back to the living room. He was always a horrible liar and you both knew it. A smirk fell on your face as you started thinking of a plan. You entered the living room with a neutral look on your face. 

     "What took you so long, did you get lost in there or something?" Yoongi joked as he looked up at you. You chuckled and sat back on the couch. 

     "No, I accidentally spilled a coke so I cleaned it up and got another one." He nodded, believing the flimsy excuse you gave him. No one thought anything of it when you leaned over and cuddled up to Hobi, since it was something you two always did. He tensed up beside you but relaxed after you did nothing but lay on him for a few minutes. After a few more games, jokes, and about halfway through a movie you had looked at the time. Time to put your plan in action.

     "Well, this was fun but I really need to get going." You said as you stood up from the couch, having to pry Jimin off you yet again- you forgot how clingy he was when he was drunk. The boys all pouted, saying you could just stay the night.

     "No no no, I would love to but I have an interview in the morning for a new job." 

     "Another one? Don't you already have two part time jobs?" Jungkook asked as he looked up at you. You shrugged.

     "College is expensive."

     "I'm so glad I'm never going to college." You laughed and patted his shoulder before heading to the door. 

     "Aren't you drunk? You can't drive home. Let one of us drive you." Namjoon said before you opened the door. You laughed and shook your head.

     "The only one that isn't drunk is Taehyung, and he's sleeping so I don't want to wake him. It's a short walk to my place from here, I'll be fine." Jin looked at the clock.

     "It's 10 o'clock at night, it's dangerous for you to be walking alone out there. Let one of us at least walk with you." You smirked before turning towards the boys.

     "Alright. Hobi, are you alright with walking me home?" His eyes widened as he quickly saw what you were doing. It would look way too suspicious if he turned down your offer, and all the boys would bombard him with questions as soon as you left. He slowly nodded his head and walked towards you. You smiled sweetly up at him. "Ok, goodnight you guys." 

     A chorus of 'goodbye's is all you heard before you closed the door and started your journey home. Hobi looked at the ground for most of the walk staying silent. You giggled as you looked over at him.

     "What? Are you scared of me now?" He looked up at you for a second before looking quickly back down with a short chuckle. "Is this because of what happened in the kitchen?" You saw his ears burn red before slowly nodding. You chuckled. "Hobi, it's not that big of a deal. We've been best friends for, like, 20 years. I don't want this to make you awkward around me." He let out a sigh and looked up at you with a slight smile. "Now, if I may ask, what exactly happened in the kitchen?" He gulped and looked away from you.

     "W-well, you usually grab my ass a lot harder when you aren't r-really thinking about it, s-so it kind of hurt." He managed to stutter out. Your eyes widened in realization.

     "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize… but i don't think you're telling me the whole truth." He gulped and snapped his head over to you as you both stopped in your tracks at your front door.

     "W-what do you mean?"

     "Well…" you started as you slowly walked toward Hobi, making him back up with every step you took forward, "The sound you let out didn't really sound like you were in pain. In fact..." Hobi gulped as you pressed him against your door with a wicked smirk, "...it sounded like you enjoyed it." His breathing had doubled its pace as his eyes looked at everything but you. You grabbed his chin and made him face you, as your other hand reached down and harshly grabbed a handful of his ass. He whimpered again, almost loud enough to be a moan this time. You smirked wider and leaned in to press a few kisses to the side of his throat as you lifted your knee to press against his growing erection. He whined and held onto your shoulders as you pushed your knee harder against him. You bit down on a spot on his neck, close to his collar bones. 

     "H-harder." He barely mumbled. You stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

     "What?" He gulped and locked eyes with you as a pretty pink color stained his face. 

     "H-harder. Please- b-bite me harder." You smirk at his answer and leaned back into his neck, biting him hard enough to almost draw blood. He moaned louder, throwing his head back against the wooden door as his hands tangled themselves in your hair. 

     "Oh, so my little baby's a painslut, huh?" You teased as you grabbed his ass again. He whimpered loudly and grinded his hard-on against your knee at a faster pace. "Fuck, you just keep getting hotter." You growled against him before quickly opening the door, almost making him fall before you grabbed his hips and pulled him up. You shoved him into the house, slamming and locking the door behind you before you grabbed his wrist with a bruising force, dragging him to the bedroom. He almost fell on the floor as you threw him in your room, closing the door behind you. When he saw the look of hunger in your eyes as you turned around, he bit his lip and shivered. You quickly made your way across the room and pulled him in for a kiss, harshly pinning him down on your bed. He whimpered beneath you when you pulled away, biting so hard on his lip you drew blood. He reached his hands up to remove your shirt, making you grab his hand and pin them above his head.

     "No touching or moving until I tell you to." You told him, making him whine in protest. You immediately ripped his clothes off before leaning down and sucking marks on his neck and chest, making sure that by the end of the night everyone would know who he belonged to. He was whimpering pitifully beneath you and squirming in your grip. You started grinding your hips into his as you pulled away from his neck, looking down at his flushed face. 

     "How long have you been thinking about this? Me pinning you down and making you mine as you whimper like a dumb pup beneath me. How long?" He let out a shaky moan as you grinded your hips into his harder.

     "G-God, ages! Always wanted mistress to pin me down and mark me, h-hurt me, dominate me, do w-whatever she wants with me, because I'm just her dumb little painslut." He whined as he threw his head back. Your pupils dilated when you heard him call you mistress and you smirked down at him. You tutted at him, shaking your head.

     "I don't think you're supposed to think about your best friend like that, baby. What a naughty boy." You whispered lowly into his ear. He started breathing heavily as he grinded his hips up to meet yours with shallow whimpers. You thought for a second before smirking and pinning his hips to the bed. You chuckled darkly in his ear, making a shiver shoot up his spine.

     "What did I say about moving, baby?" His eyes widened as he immediately started trying to stutter out an explanation.

     "I-I'm sorry! You just felt so g-good mistress, I-I couldn't help myself! I-" you landed a harsh slap on his thigh which made him whine.

     "I didn't ask for your pathetic excuses." Your eyes lit up as you thought of something. You moved to sit up but paused and looked down at him, your eyes softening. "Safe word?" He blinked and looked up at you in confusion from your sudden change in tone. You reached one of your hands up and moved a few strands of hair from his face. "I know this probably ruins the mood, but you're still my best friend and I want to make sure I don't make you uncomfortable." He cringed beneath you as you called him your best friend, sadness showing in his eyes. "What's wrong baby?" He looked away from you, a gloss over his eyes told you he might start crying soon.

     "You… you called me your best friend so I just-" the sniffle he let out cut him off as the tears slowly started falling down his face before he turned to lock eyes with you, the sadness in them breaking your heart, "-I just thought that you saw t-this as a one night s-stand and we wouldn't talk about it again, which sucks b-because I've had this huge c-crush on you since we were s-seventeen." You pulled him to sit up and pressed kisses all over his face while wiping the tears away.

      "Oh, baby, no! I just wasn't sure what you would want me to call you! I mean, we aren't officially dating yet, are we?" He looked up at you as you held his face softly in your hands.

     "I-I guess not…" 

     "Well, now we are. You are now officially my boyfriend." You told him in a playful tone as you gave him a light peck on the nose, making him giggle. He took a deep breath in and let it out before looking at you again.

     "Red." You tilted your head in confusion. "My safe word, it's red."

     "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

     "What were you gonna do?"

     "Well, I was going to spank you but if you're still too sensitive-" before you could finish your sentence he moved your legs so you were sitting on the edge of the bed and draped himself over them with his ass in the air, looking up at you expectantly. You laughed before lightly kneading the skin of his ass.

     "You're sure?" He nodded enthusiastically and pushed his ass back into your hand more. You let out a breath before looking back down at him with a dark look in your eyes. "I think fifteen sounds good, don't you baby?" He shivered and nodded eagerly with a whimper. You smirked and brought your hand up before smacking his ass with a harsh slap that echoed around the room, followed up a loud whimper from Hobi. "I want you to count out loud for me." 

     "Yes mistress!" He exclaimed as he pushed his ass back into your hand as it kneaded the slowly reddening skin. You slapped the area between his thigh and ass, hitting harder than you did before. "F-fuck, two!" You did this for a few more minutes. By the time you reached ten, you could feel how hard he was against you as his precum soaked through your jeans. 

     "Thirt-teen! F-f- fuck- fourteen!" You smirked down at him as you felt him grinding his hard-on against the rough fabric of your jeans. You waited a minute before rearing your hand back and slapping him as hard as you could.

     "FIFTEEN!!" He called out as his body jerked forward. He slowly fell limp against your legs, not having the strength to hold himself up as you kneaded his ass, which now had a red handprint on it. He whimpered and started pushing his hard cock against your jean clad thigh. He let out a loud yelp when you slapped his ass again.

     "Did I say you could move, slut?" He bit his lip with a whine as you pulled him up by his hair and pushed him back against the mattress. 

     "N-no, mistress, 'm sorry." He whimpered as he looked up at you. You smirked down at him before reaching into your bedside drawer and pulled out two black ribbons, using one to tie him to the headboard and the other to blindfold him.You heard his breath hitch as you restricted his vision, making him 3x more sensitive. He turned his head as he heard you open your bedside drawer and pull something out, shortly after hearing the sound of your pants hitting the floor. He shook with a loud gasp as he felt the tip of a strap-on he had remembered seeing in your drawer but had never mentioned to you. You let out a dark chuckle and leaned down so you were blowing hot breath on his ear.

     "I don't think bad boys deserve to be stretched out, do they baby?" He let out a moan as you bit down harshly on his earlobe.

     "I-" he was cut off by another whimper as you slapped one of the many red marks you had left on his ass.

     "I didn't ask for your opinion." You growled before slamming your hips into his, not giving him time to adjust before pounding ruthlessly into him. He let out loud cries of pleasure as his back lifted off the bed, his head thrown back in pleasure.

     "O-oh my god!!" He whimpered out in a high-pitched tone when he felt your hand creep up his chest before settling around his throat. You smirked and squeezed, making him gasp and squirm more beneath you. You continued to pound into him, leaning down to press kisses over the bruises you had left on his neck at the beginning of your session. After a few minutes, he came hard after you had given him permission to do so. He expected you to stop or slow down, but he let out a pathetic moan as you sped up the pace of your hips.

     "W-wait, mistress!! Fuck- I-It hurts." He felt you devilishly smirk against his neck. 

     "You said you've had a crush on me since we were 17, right?" You asked him as you slightly slowed down the movement of your hips and lightened your grip on his throat. He slowly nodded in confusion. At his answer you sped up the pace of your hips again, moving the hand that was wrapped around his throat to pinch and tease his nipples. "Then you're going to cum for each year you kept this secret from your mistress." He moaned louder as he came again, coating his stomach with his seed as you continued to pound into him, lightly scratching over the red marks on his ass. Tears started streaming down his flushed face as Hobi realized he was in for a long night.

[lollybliz]

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by  Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights.  Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm.  “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

[londonsquitebiggg]

THE ONE - Part One

^^^ this is the town in which my story is based^^^

Krista's Pov,

*BEEP, BEEP, BEEP*

"mmmmhhhmmmmm" I groan rolling over to turn off the horrid sound that is my alarm.

Today was the first day back at school after a very long summer break! I'm not excited to go back to campus today but I can't wait to see Sam, we have been the best of friends since we were born.

I start my day off with my normal routine, I wake up, reluctantly got out of my warm bed and walk into my in suite bathroom. I plugged my IPhone into my Ihome port and put my music on shuffle as I hopped into the shower. After I washed my hair with my strawberries and cream shampoo and conditioner, and washed my body with my strawberry body wash (Okay so I love the scent of strawberry don't judge me!). I washed the soapy suds off my body and shut off the water. I dried myself off with my big fluffy towel.

As I walked out of the bathroom and headed to my walk in closet trying to figure out what to wear today, I peaked out of my window to see what the weather was like, it was the same as always, hot and sunny! I decided on a tealy greenish cropped tank top, some ripped skinny jeans, and some white lace toms.

After I'm dressed I walk over to my vanity and plugged in my straightener to try and tame my mess of hair. While waiting for it to heat up I did my make-up which consisted of some concealer to mask my dark circles, a bit of powder to make my face look less oily,  some mascara, a little bit of blush, of course I did my eyebrows, and put on my chap stick. I'm not a huge fan of make up mainly because I honestly don't know how to do it but I also am too insecure to not where any at all so I do what I can.

Once deciding that this was as good as it was going to get I  ran my straightener through my hair till it was less of a mess and more of a wavy look. I walked to my bathroom to brush my teeth, and put on perfume and deodorant so I wouldn't smell ,  I pinned my hair back so I was out of my face and put a hair band on my wrist in case I needed to put it up later in the day. I grabbed my phone and backpack and headed downstairs to get some breakfast.

I guess it's about time that I introduced myself, my name is Krista Mayfield, I live in High Water, North Carolina, I'm currently 17 but my birthday is just three short days way. I am a Sophomore in college, I know that I'm technically "too young" but I worked my booty off and graduated high school early so it works. I still live at home with my family, we have our own house cause my Father is the Alpha of our pack.

Yes. I know what your thinking and it's true, I'm a werewolf. Well I will be you see, I'm 17 still and I haven't shifted yet so I don't have my wolf yet. That will all change soon though, just three days and I will shift and I'll be able to start looking for my mate.

"Krista get your breakfast before your father eats it all!" I heard my mom call me and walk into the kitchen, I grab some toast and a banana not feeling all that hungry and also running late to meet Sam at the school.

I kissed my mom on the cheek "Morning mom! I have to get to school early to meet Sam, I love you! Bye" I rushed as I grabbed my keys off the hook, almost out the door when my Father's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Krista, there are some new wolves that are on our territory looking for their mates, they'll be attending your school so if you see them be nice please? I don't want them to feel unwelcome, they are from a neighboring pack and their families are old friends" I nod my head in response kiss my dad on the cheek, and rush off to school.

After a thirty minute drive I pull up to school and jump out, I saw Sam and I screamed as we ran to each other we crashed into a big bear hug, (yes we are those friends).

"Oh my gosh I missed you so much!" She said and we broke the hug. "I know I don't know how I survived without you!" Man was that the truth.

We saw each other over break, of course. Spent lots of time at the beach and just hanging out in general, I mean we practically lived at each others houses! However Sam's birthday was a month and a half ago, so she had to start her training and also her family went on a vacation for like three weeks so I haven't seen her as much as usual as of late.

We were out front of the English department when the we realized the time. We walked to our first lecture of the day and picked out our seats and put our stuff down, I went over to Sam and started to talk about her trip before the teacher got there, I wanted to know everything.

During the conversation I heard the door open but was too involved in my conversation with Sam and some of our other friends that had joined upon their arrival. Sam stopped talking and focused on something behind me, she was staring wide eyed, I wanted to know what had her so distracted. I turned around and there was four cute boys, well three cute boys and one extremely hot one, he had brown hair styled in this messy, effortless pushed back style, he was wearing all black and from the looks of his arms he had A LOT of tattoos... he is SO hot! I was basically drooling at how absolutely stunning the god like man.When suddenly I remembered that my birthday is in a couple of days and I will be able to find my mate and I know for a fact that the moon goddess would never me with someone as hot as him no matter how much I have prayed for basically a mate just like him I knew he was just too far out of my league. Plus he definitely is one of the wolves looking for his mate, not to mention that he's probably a lot older then me he has to be at least 25-26, I mean age doesn't really matter when mates and werewolves are involved but I could practically feel the power radiating off of him and I didn't even have my wolf yet! there is no way that I would be paired with such a strong Alpha!

Harry's Pov,

I'm not going to go into detail about my morning mainly because its not very interesting, I got up, got dressed, and drove to the new school I'm attending while one the BloodMoon Packs territory. Alpha Mayfield told me that a lot of the wolves from his pack go to this school which I could tell by the smell but I could also smell some humans, So it's a mixed school which is common considering it's a big city and it's not just a werewolf community.

I'm Harry, I'm here in High Water to try to find my mate, I'm 26 years old so I'm starting to get concerned that I don't have one. Which would be bloody terrible if you ask me but if that's what the Moon Goddess has planned for me then I guess I don't have much of a choice, but that sure as hell isn't going to stop me from looking for her.

I grew up in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. You guessed it, I'm British. My family moved to the states when I was 16 after our Pack was attacked, my father was lost that night, my mother was lucky enough to be blessed with her second chance mate, Robin when we moved here. He was an Alpha of one of the biggest packs in America. My sister Gemma she found her mate last year, He took over Robins stop as Alpha and Gemma is now our Luna, I'm be an Alpha but I lost that opportunity from not having a mate yet. It didn't really bother me, I would be the Beta of our pack unless I don't find my mate, or unless she is to become the Luna of a pack, making me her Alpha... If she accepts me that is.

"Harry! my main man, nice of you to finally show up" one of my best mates Louis said knocking me out of my thoughts as I walked up to our group.

"Yeah, I figured if I'm here to find my mate I should get out of the house and start looking around shouldn't I?" I jokingly replied.

As he was about to say some smartass response when we noticed everyone rushing inside and we figured it was time to head to class, we didn't want to be late to class on our first day, well we didn't care about being late to class we just didn't want to miss an opportunity to find our mates. We were all just leisurely walking a when I suddenly got wind of this amazing, intoxicating, overwhelming, and addicting smell of Lavender, Cedar wood, and what I could only describe as sugar, my wolf Marcus was howling with glee, he kept chanting

"Mate, Mate, go to mate"

Over and over again, I started walking a little bit faster towards following her smell which lucky for me lead right to my first lecture I was so lost in her sweet smell, I could barely see straight. I opened the door and almost fainted at sight of my gorgeous mate. She was tall and tan, she had perfect long blond hair that was pulled back away from her face in a natural wavy style, She had the most stunning face that I had ever seen, she had very little make-up on which worked because she didn't need any she was so gorgeous, she was wearing very skinny ripped jeans that hugged her in all the right places and a green crop top that showed her skin which made me mad because I didn't want anyone else seeing what was mine!

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth when I caught her checking me out, wondering if she was think about me in the same manner that I was thinking about her. Shit, it's taking every ounce of self control I have to not rush at her and claim her right here right now!

But just the she realized something and turned around, which made Marcus whimper because that means she didn't recognize me as her mate, or she did and didn't want me. I couldn't help the longing to walk up to her and say hello, to tell her how beautiful she was, how much I wanted her, how much I loved her eyes. So that is exactly what I did. I walked my way over to her and tapped on her shoulder.

"Hey, my names Harry, It's nice to meet you." I introduced myself to her once she turned around.

"Hi, I'm Krista, I don't mean to sound rude so if it comes across that way I'm sorry. But why are you talking to me? I mean your so hot and so much older then me...I.. uhhh.. umm I mean your like older and you don't want to embarrass yourself on the first day here talking to the awkward nerd when you could get in with the top of the food chain so easily with your looks.. I mean age...  I mean I'm, I'm going to shut up now " My little mate was rambling with nerves, making me chuckle at how adorable she looked all flustered, not to mention that she called me hot, but I didn't like the fact that she thought that she was embarrassing, a nerd, or saying that I was so old, Kind of hurt the ego a bit... I guess her hot comment could make up for that.

"What are you talking about? I'm only twenty-six??". I asked her confused.

"Yeah and I'm only sevente.." before she could finish her friend cut her off.

"Oh come on Krista you know your turning eighteen in like three days." my cute little mate was blushing at the reveal of her birthday being so close, especially it being such an important one.

It all made so much sense to me now, she wasn't rejecting me, she didn't recognize me as her mate because she hasn't shifted or got her wolf yet. Without her wolf senses she wouldn't be able to identify my smell, or feel our mate pull as intense, she would still feel it but she wouldn't be able to understand why she is feeling things towards me.

"Oh well, don't worry I just wanted to introduce myself to such a gorgeous girl as yourself, I'll see you around love" as I was walking away I winked at her and she blushed, bloody hell she looks so innocent when she blushes. It makes me want to do very unholy things to her! Which is okay because I am her mate but if anyone else was thinking these things about it I would rip their throat out.

I turn my head back as I walk back to the guys, because and can't stand not looking at her for longer than three seconds and I see her looking at me a bit flustered, her breathing is labored and her cheeks are tinted the most beautiful shade of pink. It's good to know that my words had there intended effect on her, 1 point Harry.

Krista's Pov

I can't believe that he just freakin' talked to me!!! Like the hottest guy that I have ever seen in my life just came and talked to me, he literally just called me love! Let's not  forget he called me gorgeous!! I think something is wrong with his eyes I mean has he seen me? I mean don't get me wrong I know I'm not ugly, I just don't think that I am pretty enough for the literal hottest guy to say I'm gorgeous!!!

Also how sweet is he to talk to me and not even care about my nerdy status! I mean the wolves here wouldn't dare disrespect me like that but the other students here find every excuse they can to pick on my age and my grades.. which doesn't make sense to me? like you come to college because you want to learn stuff so you can get a good job.. why would you want to have bad grades????

"what the heck just happened???" Sam said pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I have no stinkin' idea! like did you see that man? like holy smokes he is good looking" I said fanning myself trying to cool down, feeling like the temperature has risen like 20 degrees in here since him and his friends walked in.

"And let's not forget that incredibly sexy British accent!!" One of my best friends Ashlyn said. No matter how much I agree with that statement, it was makes me feel super annoyed that she just called him sexy, why am I feeling this way? Normally I would be blushing at her use of the word "sexy" but no I'm fuming with anger at the thought of someone else finding him attractive!

"Get a grip woman! You have no claim over him!" my subconscious screams at me. As much as this irritates me I know she is right. He isn't my mate and I don't have any sort of claim on him... he isn't mine.

"Do you think he is one of the wolves that's here looking for his mate?" Ashlyn questioned.

"I would assume so. I've never seen any of them before, heck I didn't even know we had wolves coming on our territory until my dad said something this morning. Why do you ask?" Was my reply to her, irritated that she was intrigued with him.

" Well I'm just wondering why he came over and was talking to you of all people".....OUCH! that was kind of harsh. I mean I'm as surprised as anyone that he was talking to me. I know that I'm not the prettiest girl around but I wouldn't expect one of my best friends to be so shocked that I could actually attract male attention.

As if sensing what I was thinking, probably because I wear my feelings on my face, she jumped into action to dig herself out of this hole.

"I didn't mean it in the way that you are thinking!! I just meant that his whole purpose here in High Water is to find his mate, so by him coming and talking to the most literally prettiest girl in school, I assume that means that he hasn't found his mate yet which means that talking to you could come across as him being a guy who doesn't put his mate first and flirts with other girls before he finds her... or he found her and he's a huge player..." Ashlyn nervously rambled, making some really good points.

" I don't know Ash, maybe we should consider the fact that maybe Krista is his mate??" Sam cut in. Both mine and Ash's heads snapped towards her staring in shock and confusion.

"I mean, she doesn't have her wolf yet so she wouldn't have been able to sense if she was. But he doesn't come off as the kind of guy to cheat on his mate, and he's twenty-six. Don't you think he is a little too old and mature to be flirting with girls that aren't his mate?" She said trying to explain her logic.

" I mean, yeah but like me? And him? I mean that's funny Sam I don't think the Moon Goddess would do him that disservice. I mean he is way out of my league! We aren't even playing the same game that's how far out of my league he is." Was my response to her outrageous theory.

"oh don't start this crap again! Krista you are the most gorgeous girl in the whole world! As much as you don't believe it, Sam's right. I mean his whole purpose of coming her is to find her, why would he jeopardize that by making her insecure and jealous of you?" Said Ash, They hate it when I talk bad about myself.

"And don't bring the Moon Goddess into this! You know just as much of the rest of us that, looks, age , and status have nothing to do with who she pairs you with! All that matters is that your mate is your other half. They complete you! Heck, your probably the best mate that guy could get!" Sam said being the best friend ever and boosting my confidence up a little.

I looked over my shoulder behind me at him, my mind jumbled with the possibilities of me and him being mates. As if sensing me staring his head turned at that exact moment. Gorgeous green eyes locked with mine, a stupidly attractive smirk on his face. It was that moment when Professor O'Neil walked in telling us to find our seats so we could start. It was like he knew how he was affecting me, my breathing labored, my cheeks flushed, and my heart pounding.

I couldn't tare my eyes away, he chuckled as he winked at me and faced the front to pay attention to what our Professor was saying. I rushed to my seat, trying to calm myself down and control my breathing. Trying to pay attention to my English lecture, but was struggling because my mind kept floating back to what Sam said.. could I really be his mate? Maybe.. but if I truly was, why didn't he say anything?

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 14 - In The Morning

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Hermione arrives at Grimmauld Place 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except that one time)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 13

I can't stop myself from calling calling out your name I can't stop myself from falling falling back again

 July 17th came around sooner than Fred was truly ready for and before he knew it, his father and Ron were leaving Grimmauld Place to meet Hermione and her parents in Diagon Alley. They had extended the invitation to George and himself as well, but the two of them opted to stay behind to help Ginny get things ready for her arrival. Or at least that’s what George told their mum and dad. Instead, they planned to use that time to work on welcoming Hermione back the only way they knew how.

“Okay, we’ve got – fake wand, spitting teapot, nose-biting tea cup, Ton-Tongue Toffee, Canary Creams, those Nosebleed Nougats we’ve been working on, aaaaand then of course we can always just turn her scarf into a snake or something,” listed George, looking down critically at the products in his trunk.

“You’re overthinking it, mate,” said Fred, chewing on the side of his thumb as he shuffled through his work notes on the desk.

“Well then, please enlighten me Freddie,” George huffed, placing his hands on his hips and turning to his twin.

“We can just apparate downstairs as soon as she gets here and scare her. She’ll never see it coming.” It was true. While Fred and George had passed their apparition tests first try the previous spring, Hermione had not been around enough to see them practice.

“What? A jump scare? That seems a bit cheap, don’t you think?”

“Since when have you cared how we pull pranks?” laughed Fred. “You’ve never been particularly choosy before.” With satisfaction, Fred finally found the piece of parchment he’d been searching for and pulled it to the top of his pile of notes. It was his ingredient list for Fever Fudge. He and George had spent the entirety of their free time so far that summer developing a themed line for their business and Fred felt like they finally had it. Now they just needed to make the products. And they needed Hermione’s help. Hermione. The familiar twisting and churning in his stomach returned every time he thought of her. What was it about the little witch that made him so bloody nervous? His palms sweat, his neck got hot, and his stomach ached whenever her soon to be visit was brought to the forefront of his mind that week. It was ridiculous. It was only Hermione after all. Even if he did fancy her at one point, that was off the table now. He was with Angelina and she still fancied his brother. The only thing to do was to get back to normal, go back to the way things were before he found himself lusting after his baby brother’s friend, go back to when they were simply just friends.

“I suppose we could do it when she’s standing next to Walburga. That’ll certainly give her a fright,” mused George, closing his trunk with a heavy thump of the lid.

“Now you’re getting it, Georgie boy!” Fred stacked the parchment and moved around quills and ink bottles, doing his best to tidy up the small workspace. Hermione was sure to make a comment on their messiness the minute she saw it. She always did.

“You seem in better spirits—” George leaned casually against the wall near the open window and looked at Fred with an annoyingly knowing smirk “—Hermione’s visit wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Would it?”

Fred scoffed. “It has everything to do with her visit, Georgie. We need a pair of fresh eyes to go over these product designs and it’ll be someone else to talk to in this depressing place besides you.”

George opened his mouth, clearly ready to refute Fred’s statement when a large tawny owl soared through the open window and landed on the bottom left-hand corner of the desk. The owl had a stately, professional manner, akin to the owls used at Hogwarts. Taking the letter from its claws, Fred gave the owl a small treat and watched as it spread its wings and soared back out through the open window. He turned the envelope over in his hands and saw that it was addressed to him. The words were in a neat scrawl he recognized immediately, and so he tore into the envelope with enthusiasm.

Dear Fred,

I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you. Quidditch camp has kept me really busy. They have us running so many drills, I barely have the energy to eat at the end of the day. But, as I’m the new Gryffindor quidditch team captain (remember don’t tell anyone, it’s still a secret), it’s important that I know everything there is to know. I hope your summer is going well, though!

I will try to write more later, but I wanted to send you a quick note to let you know I’ve gotten your letters.

Yours,

Angelina

P.S. – You won’t believe who’s an instructor here. Oliver Wood! Can you believe it?

Fred threw the letter down onto the desk with a sigh. She clearly hadn’t read his letters. If she had, then she would have known that his summer was not going well. Feeling close enough with Angelina and taking the fact that she was his girlfriend into consideration, he’d shared with her his lamentings of his overbearing mother and the general stodginess of the home they were currently staying in. He hoped to get a tad bit of sympathy or maybe even acknowledgement. But instead, he got a few short lines and news on Oliver Wood. He smirked at the last bit. At least he could be certain that Oliver Wood was there to torture her with his insane quidditch practices and long-winded speeches on hard work and diligence.

“Who’s it from?” asked George.

“Angelina,” answered Fred, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his head as he stared at the discarded letter on the desk in front of him.

“What’s it say?”

The sound of the front door opening downstairs caught the pair’s attention and Fred stood, grabbing the letter, and tucking it into his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. Hermione’s here. Let’s go,” he said pointing to the door with a tilt of his head.

Sneaking down the hallway, they leaned over the banister and spied the top of Hermione’s frizzy head. They watched as she walked slowly down the entry hall, looking side to side as she took in the ominous visage of the ancient Black home. She was almost to the end of the hallway where it split into three separate directions when Fred looked to his brother and with a nod, and apparated. Fred felt the familiar pull at his navel and the thrilling sensation of the air being sucked from the space around him before he landed effortlessly beside Hermione. Half of a second later George appeared at her other side.

“Wotcher Granger!” they exclaimed in unison, immediately dissolving into laughter when Hermione jumped with fright. The poor little witch let out a startled yelp, falling back into the covered portrait of Sirius Black’s mother Walburga.

Upon being woken up the nasty woman began to spit her usual vitriol, “Filth! Mudbloods! Blood traitors! In my home! The disgrace! Out! Out!”

“Fred! George! How many times have I told you to leave that portrait be?!” screamed their mother, appearing in the kitchen doorway to their right.

“Wasn’t us mum!” yelled Fred in their defense, still trying to stifle his laughter.

“Yeah mum, Hermione’s the one that screamed and pulled the sheet down!” agreed George, slinging an arm over the shoulders of Hermione who currently looked incredibly displeased.

“Right, well I wonder why that was—” their mother scowled “—get! All of you, out of here while I fix this. Ron, help me, will you dear?”

Ron, who’d been leading Hermione down the hallway stepped forward and grabbed the sheet with their mum. Meanwhile, Fred and George followed their mother’s instructions and led Hermione into the kitchen.

“You two are biggest prats!” scolded Hermione, setting her bag down on the kitchen table.

“Maybe, but you still love us,” said George cheekily before pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione smiled, her irritation visibly melting away as she hugged George back. Once his twin brother had released her, Hermione turned to Fred, both of them fully intending to hug as well. But then they stopped, both jerking forward awkwardly before settling on a very stiff and uncomfortable handshake.

“Frederick,” she greeted him politely.

Fred cleared his throat before answer, “Granger.” They continued to shake hands, their arms sticking out in front of them for much too long as they stared at each other, unsure of what to say. “You’ve gotten taller,” Fred finally remarked, noticing the way she no longer came to his shoulder, but instead reached just past his chin. He released her hand lamely and brought it up to scratch the back of his head.

“Yes, well, it appears I’ve been through a bit of a growth spurt the last month or so,” she answered, before reaching for the clasp at her neck and divesting herself of her light travel robes. Growth spurt was right, thought Fred as he stared unabashedly at Hermione. Not only had she gotten taller, but her once lanky body had given way to a very womanly form. He exchanged a quick look with George, whose flabbergasted expression clearly stated that he too was witnessing the same phenomenon. Hermione Granger had gotten hot. Very hot. Swallowing thickly, Fred wanted nothing more than to burst into flames literally and figuratively. Being dead, he reasoned, would be better than dealing with the hot fresh hell of Hermione Granger surely coming into her own body the moment he had decided his attraction to her was off the table. Almost mockingly, the corner of the envelope that held Angelina’s letter poked into his thigh.

“Is that a new sweater, ‘Mione?” asked George. Fred shot a glare in George’s direction. While his question appeared to be innocent, Fred knew it was an obvious jab at the fact that not only was Hermione not wearing something three times her size, but the sweater in question outlined her new curves so perfectly that Fred had to consciously keep his eyes trained on her face.

“Oh—” Hermione looked down at her outfit “—yes. My mum insisted we go shopping before I left. Got me a whole new wardrobe and everything. Something about putting me in better spirits or something.”

“Why would you need to be in better—”

“My, my, my, well if it isn’t Hermione Granger,” the voice of Sirius Black cut Fred’s question off. He watched as Hermione turned excitedly and spotted the older wizard leaning against the doorframe that led into the dining room. The witch crossed the room enthusiastically, allowing Sirius to envelope her in a tight hug.

“Sirius! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Hermione, letting out a small squeak when Sirius lifted her into the air.

“Same to you,” he said with an exaggerated groan before setting her back on her feet and holding her at arm’s length. “Look at you! Is this really the same mousy little girl that saved my life two years ago?” asked Sirius teasingly before leading her to the kitchen table.

“Hold on a minute. We haven’t heard that story,” said George. The comment caught Fred’s attention as well. While the two had been informed by both Ron after his third year and their mum and dad that summer that Sirius Black was not the man they thought him to be, they had never heard exactly how he officially escaped his capture.

“Really? She only traveled back in time and road on the back of a hippogriff to break me out of my cell,” said Sirius, looking down proudly at a flushing Hermione. “Would you like some tea dear?” he asked Hermione.

“We’ll get it,” said George, pulling a stunned Fred around and towards the counter. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Which part?” asked Fred, reeling from the combination of Hermione’s figure, and finding out that she traveled through time?

George chuckled at his comment and the pair began to make a nice afternoon tea. Merlin, being able to use magic whenever he wanted was so convenient, thought Fred as with just a few flicks of their wands, the tea was prepared, and a nice plate of biscuits was ready. Levitating the cups, teapot, sugar, milk, and biscuits to the table, they took their seats at the table as well.

“Now, tell us all the sordid details of this breakout and don’t hold anything back,” said George firmly, reaching across the table and grabbing a biscuit.

Fred listened intently as Sirius began his story, grabbing a cup and preparing Hermione’s tea. She seemed surprised when he set the cup in front of her and even more surprised when she took a sip. The younger witch shot him a curious glance before taking another sip and grabbing a biscuit as well. What? Did she not think he remembered how she took her tea? wondered Fred before making his own.

By the end of his story, Sirius was smiling widely, Hermione was blushing furiously, and Fred and George were staring blankly. Ron, who had joined them halfway through, looked bored having already heard the story before from Harry and Hermione.

“Blimey,” said Fred, unsure of what else even to say. “Do you ever stop getting cooler, Hermione?” Fred’s ears grew hot in embarrassment, but the small smile Hermione gave him cooled the heat slightly.

“I’ve always been cool, Fred. Maybe you’ve just been too thick to notice.”

Fred gave a small chuckle, joined by the rest of the table. Just like that, the heavy weight of tension that had been present between him and Hermione since the moment she arrived lifted slightly.

“So, is anyone going to explain to me where I am exactly and what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess it at some point?” asked Hermione, looking around her with an exasperated look.

“I’m sorry kitten, I thought Arthur told you,” said Sirius.

Fred prickled. He didn’t quite like the way Sirius called her ‘kitten’.

“This—” Sirius motioned to the space around them “—is my childhood home. Left to me as the last living heir to the Black fortune. I volunteered it to Dumbledore for the Order.”

“The Order?” Hermione scrunched her brow in confusion.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Ron chimed in, as if the name alone would be explanation enough.

“We’re like Death Eaters, but for the good side,” added George with a grin.

“Not yet you aren’t!” exclaimed their mum, striding into the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

Fred huffed in annoyance. He and George had been keen to join the Order ever since they learned about it, but their mum was adamantly against it. “Come on mum, we’re seventeen! It’s not your choice anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You watch your tone with me Frederick Weasley. As long as you live under my roof, you do as I say. Is that clear?”

Fred and George rolled their eyes, turning back towards the table.

“There’s an Order meeting tonight Hermione,” said George. 

“You can learn all about it after. Most of the members usually stay for dinner,” added Fred. 

“In the meantime, don’t you want to check out your room?” George stressed the question, widening his eyes and tilting his head towards the door leading to the entry hall.

“Do I?—” Hermione gave them a confused look before her eyebrows lifted in realization “—I mean, yes, of course.” She stood from the table, moving to follow Fred and George out of the kitchen before stopping at the door and turning back to the table. “It was so lovely to see you again Sirius. Shall we catch up more later?”

“Absolutely kitten. Have fun…checking out your room.”

Fred grabbed Hermione around the upper arm, pulling her from the kitchen and back into the now silent entry hall. The portrait of Walburga Black was once again covered by the old sheet, but he watched as Hermione still gave it a wide birth. “Hold tight,” he said to the witch in his grasp before apparating them both up to his and George’s bedroom.

Hermione landed next to him, gripping the front of Fred’s shirt tightly in her fist as she doubled over, breathing heavily.

“Alright ‘Mione?” asked Fred, trying not to focus on the way she held onto him.

“You absolute BERK!” She released his shirt, reeling back to slap him across the chest. It stung a bit, but Fred laughed all the same, figuring he deserved it. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to apparate someone without telling them first?! It’s incredibly—oh god, I think I may be sick.”

“Come now, Hermione. That doesn’t sound like someone who time traveled and helped a convicted felon escape from authorities,” said George, walking past the two of them to open their trunks and begin pulling out products.

“Where did you even get a time-turner in the first place? Aren’t they regulated by the ministry?” asked Fred, walking over to gather his notes for Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall got it for me. She had to write a lot of letters to the ministry about how I was an exemplary student and wouldn’t use it irresponsibly. I signed up for every class, you see, and so the only way to take all of them was to use the time-turner.” Hermione had now straightened up. She looked a little less green as she walked towards them and peered down at products spread out across the bed.

Fred laughed. “If that isn’t the swottiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Watch it,” Hermione warned casually as she picked up a pair of extendable ears with equal fascination and revulsion. To be fair, the accurate imitation of flesh was a bit much, but that’s what Fred and George loved most about them.

“Speaking of swottiness—” George gave Fred an impish smirk before leaping forward and grabbing the large stack of parchment from Fred “—Fred made you this. It’s all our product designs, some of them old, some of them new, some of them not yet tested.”

“No notebook?” Hermione asked, exchanging for Extendable Ears for the stack of parchment, and looking at Fred with a teasing smile.

“Now, why would I give you my notebook? No, these are your copies,” admitted Fred, looking intently at Hermione’s face as she sorted through the pile.

“You made me copies. I’ve never known you to be so…fastidious Fred. Wow, you two really have been busy,” said Hermione in amazement as she continued to sift through the large pile of parchment.

“Yes, well, that’s about seven months of missed inventing time, Miss Granger. A lot happens when you’re not going about snogging professional quidditch players,” stated George.

“I was not going about snogging Viktor!” cried Hermione in indignation, turning the color of a ripe tomato.

“You weren’t?” Fred found himself asking, before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked back to him shyly, running her hands over her hair to flatten it down. Fred kept his eyes trained on the girl’s face, fighting very hard to not let them drift down to view the magnificent way her sweater stretched when she lifted her arms. “I mean…” Hermione drifted off, earning a wolf whistle from George who she promptly sent a scathing glare at.

Fred felt the all too familiar sinking feeling in his stomach return, but this time mixed with the overwhelming urge to take Hermione in his arms and kiss her till all thoughts of Viktor Krum were gone from her memory. He looked away from her, distracting himself with the products on the bed as he tried to process his reaction. It wasn’t his place to be jealous. Hermione was a free and single girl – she was more than welcome to snog whoever she wanted – and he had a girlfriend. He shouldn’t be jealous. He really shouldn’t be jealous. But he was.

A knock on their door pulled the three’s attention. The door opened to reveal Ron looking mildly annoyed.

“This isn’t your room ‘Mione. Yours is down the hall,” he said, crossing his arms and looking suspiciously at Fred and George.

“Hermione—” Ginny’s voice sounded from behind Ron “—come on! We’re sharing a room. I’ve got your bed all made up and everything.”

“Oh right. Fred and George were just showing me their summer homework,” Hermione replied, holding up the stack of notes in her hands.

Ron gave an obnoxious snort. “Sure. Come on, then. Before Ginny has a conniption.”

“Coming—” Hermione turned back to Fred and George “—I’ll have a look at these tonight.”

She turned, following Ron out of the room, and shutting the door behind her. It was silent in their room for a few moments as Fred stood staring at the place Hermione had just been.

“Merlin, did you see the baps on her!” George cried, sounding relieved to finally be alone just the two of them.

Fred couldn’t help but laugh against his better judgement, body shaking with chuckles as he turned to his twin who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Come on now mate. It’s Hermione. Have some respect,” said Fred, flopping onto his bed and propping himself up against the headboard.

“Believe me, I have nothing but respect for them—” George followed his lead, lying down on his bed as well “—and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a single bloke. I’m allowed to look. Couldn’t help but notice you paying your respects earlier. What’s your excuse?”

“I suppose I was rather surprised is all. She was fit before—”

“Was she?” George questioned, giving Fred a cheeky grin.

“I mean—” Fred stuttered over his words “—yeah, a bit.”

“But now she’s more your type?”

“I’m not answering that.” Fred rolled over on his side, facing away from his twin.

“Oh, come on Freddie. I’m a simple question.”

“No, it isn’t. Not when you’re leading me on – trying to weasel a specific answer out of me,” accused Fred. The whole conversation was like watching two trains headed towards each other on the same track. He could see the inevitable ending from a mile away but could still do nothing to stop it.

“Me? Weasel? Never. I’m just curious as to whether Hermione’s new shapely form has you wishing you’d asked her to the ball, instead of Angelina. That’s—”

“George, stop it.”

“—all. I’m sure now that she’s all filled out, she’d make a more than suitable girlfriend. The tits and ass would surely make up for her annoying bookish—”

“Oi! You’re my brother but say shit like that again and I’ll give the thrashing you deserve. You hear me?—” Fred turned over, glaring daggers at his brother in the bed beside him “—‘Mione’s got more to offer than just her body and in case you haven’t noticed, you benefit quite a lot from her annoying bookish personality. So just shut it.” He marked his words with a final sneer before turning back over and facing the door.

“Hmm, you’re right brother. My apologies.”

Fred didn’t need to see the smug expression on George’s face to know that he’d played right into his twin’s hands. He shouldn’t have let George’s goading get to him. He should have known that George was only saying those things to get him to slip up and admit something. George liked to play on Fred’s short temper. Always did. Staring hard at the dull dark wood grain of the bedroom door and the ornate trim that surrounded it, he wished more than anything he was in the comfort of their brightly colored bedroom back at the Burrow. At least there he could storm out, take his broom, and fly until he cooled down. But here, in the dingy, dark, confines of Grimmauld Place, he was trapped with his annoyingly perceptive twin one side of the door, and Hermione Granger on the other.

    Hermione took in the sight of her shared bedroom in Grimmauld Place with perplexed curiosity. The ancestral Black home was unlike any other wizarding home she’d ever seen. Albeit she’d only ever been in one wizarding home before – the Burrow – and that, she was told, wasn’t necessarily “normal” as far as wizarding homes went. But still, the rich, dark atmosphere of Grimmauld Place and the things that inhabited it spoke depths on the history, ideals, and opulence of the Black family. She ran her fingers along the intricate carvings on the sleigh that was now temporarily hers.

“So, this is yours and my room! I made sure to get a bedspread you’d like and did my best to clean up. You wouldn’t believe the amount we spend cleaning these days, and the place still looks dirty all the time!” Ginny threw her hands up into the air in exasperation, walking over to her side of the room and kicking a dirty jumper into the corner.

“How long have you been here?” asked Hermione, sitting down on her trunk, which had already been placed at the foot of her bed.

“Pretty much since the day summer started. It’s been a real drag. I hoped to do a bit of flying this summer, you know, play a bit of quidditch. But this place only has a small garden and because we’re in the middle of muggle England, we can’t go too far in case we’re seen. I’m so glad you’re here now though, it’s nice to have another girl around besides mum, and Tonks on the occasion,” said Ginny, collapsing onto her bed and pulling a licorice wand out of her pocket. She took a large bite off the end of it and chewed it aggressively.

“Who’s Tonks?”

Ginny gasped dramatically, sitting up and turning over to face Hermione on her stomach. “She’s an Order member – auror for the ministry. She’s so cool. She’s a metamorphmagus so she can change her appearance to whatever she wants and she’s young so she’s always turning her hair purple or blue. Plus, she listens to the coolest music and wears the coolest clothes.”

“Sounds…cool,” said Hermione, flatly, brain still hazy from her interactions with Fred earlier. She certainly never expected to spend so much time with him from the moment she walked through the front door. Seeing and speaking with Sirius had been a nice distraction, but there was still how Fred made her tea perfectly and the way he quite literally pulled her from the room. To top it all off, he presented her with an itemized list of his invention notes. Was he purposefully trying to drive her crazy? He must be, she thought in exasperation, considering he looked even more handsome now than the last time she’d seen him. While his long hair was gone, she found the new professional cut to be even more handsome, despite her preferences. Then of course, there was the ridiculously sexy way in which his t-shirt hung on his biceps. Merlin help her, maybe she should have just gone to France with her parents.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s voice brought Hermione out of her mental fog. Looking up, she found Ginny giving her a curious look.

“What’s got you all lost in thought?” Ginny asked mischievously. “Is it a boy?”

“Why would you possibly think it’s a boy, Ginevra?” scoffed Hermione in indignation.

“Because you had this big dopey look on your face like you were fantasizing about Professor Lockhart in second year.”

“I did not!” Hermione picked up a pillow and threw it at Ginny who artfully dodged it.

“Yes, you did! Now, who could it be…not Viktor surely, since you dumped him royally at the end of the year.” She tapped the end of her chin in thought.

“I did not dump him. We parted ways amicably.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Do I know the person?”

Hermione nodded weakly, unsure as to why she was playing along.

“Neville?”

Hermione shook her head no.

“Harry? It’s alright if you do, seeing as I’m going with Corner now.”

Hermione shook her head again, this time more aggressively.

Ginny gasped, “It’s not one of my brothers, is it?”

Hermione hesitated for a second too long, resulting in a gleeful exclamation from Ginny.

“Well let’s see. It’s not Bill or Charlie since you’ve only met them once, it can’t be Percy because you do have some taste, Fred’s currently halfway up Angelina’s arse, so that just leaves George and Ron!” Ginny smiled widely, clearly pleased with herself.

“I—” Hermione began but was cut off swiftly by Ginny.

“It’s Ron, isn’t it? I knew it! You know, I’m pretty sure he’s keen on you as well. Wouldn’t shut up about how you should be here while we were clearing the pixies out of the parlor.”

“He wouldn’t?” asked Hermione, caught off guard by Ginny’s offhand comment.

“Oh yeah. I think that’s why mum finally sent you the letter – to shut him up,” said Ginny, taking another bite from her licorice wand.

Hermione bit the inside of her lips and tried to come to terms with the fact that Ron might actually like her now. When had that happened and why hadn’t it been before she’d developed the biggest crush on one of his older brothers instead?

“I could help get you guys together, if you want.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione looked up at Ginny is surprise.

“You and Ron, while you’re here I could be like your wingman or something,” Ginny explained further.

“No, I understood what you said. Absolutely not Ginevra. You will not be doing that.”

Ginny held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, suit yourself. No need to pop your top,” said Ginny, tossing the last of the licorice wand in her mouth and standing from her bed. “I’m going to see if there are any leftover biscuits from tea. I’m assuming you’ll want some too?”

Hermione smiled widely at the ginger haired girl, answering enthusiastically, “Yes please. You’re super cool.”

Ginny exited the room, holding up a middle finger at Hermione’s teasing.

Hermione chuckled lightly to herself, standing and opening her trunk. She began to unpack, realizing it was best to get a clear and organized environment if she were to be there for the remainder of the summer. She started with her clothes – taking each piece out carefully and placing them either in the free drawers of the room’s dresser or in the wardrobe next to Ginny’s few blouses and dresses. Her new clothes, while very pretty, were definitely out of her comfort zone. Her usual clothes were so large and relaxed that she practically swam in them and she liked it that way. They were comfortable. But her mother insisted that she was becoming an adult now and so she needed clothes that actually fit her. She was able to save a few of the pieces from her old wardrobe, like her favorite sweatpants, favorite striped sweater, and of course, Fred’s cardigan. But the rest had been sacrificed and replaced by the fitted, tailored pieces her mother picked out for her.

Picking up Fred’s cardigan from the bottom of her neatly packed clothes, she brought it to her face and marveled in the fact that it had somehow kept his scent. It shouldn’t still, after all those months, but it did. Feeling a chill run down her spine, Hermione glanced out the window and noticed the sky had turned a dark grey and the trees on the street leaned heavily in the wind. Great – a summer cold front followed by a storm. England sure did have fantastic weather, thought Hermione sarcastically. Without even thinking, she slipped her arms into the cardigan and wrapped it tightly around herself before returning to her unpacking. Ginny reappeared a short while later, bringing a plate piled high with an assortment of biscuits, and what looked to be two pumpkin pasties. Hermione grabbed a pasty, nibbling on it as she organized her books on the spare table in the corner. She finished her unpacking and was chatting idly with Ginny about Michael Corner when Ron knocked and entered.

“Well, it must be serious, Gin, if Dumbledore is getting the Order back together,” said Ron, shoving a biscuit into his mouth.

“Of course, it’s serious, Ron, You-Know-Who is back. Harry said so himself and he’d have no reason to lie about it,” said Ginny.

“I wish the rest of the ministry agreed with you on that. Have you seen the vile things they’ve been saying about Harry and Dumbledore in the Prophet, Hermione?” asked Ron.

Hermione sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, yes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say You-Know-Who already had his fingers buried deep in the ministry and the prophet, but I don’t know how true that is,” she said, crumbling a biscuit in her hand.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ginny curiously.

“Well, it’s quite clever what they’re doing. Isn’t it? Instead of coming right out and saying that Harry and Dumbledore are lying, they’re giving the readers subtle reasons as to why they should believe them to not be credible. A small jab here, a snide remark there. Throw in a few jokes and next thing you know, everyone’s laughing at dramatic, fame-seeking Harry Potter and his crazy aging mental mentor Albus Dumbledore.” The cookie was officially powder in her hands as she finished her theory. It had been circulating in her brain since the first time she’d seen signs of turning in the Prophet. It was another reason she felt so on edge these days.

“Dad says it’s Fudge. Says he doesn’t want to accept that You-Know-Who is back,” sneered Ron. He rolled his eyes and rubbed at the freckles on the side of his nose. Hermione stared at the spattering of brown for a moment, trying to find the same thrill in them as she did Fred’s, but only came back with disappointment.

“Fudge is an idiot. Everyone knows that,” spat Ginny, rolling her eyes as well.

“Who’s an idiot?” a voice popped in, the door opening slightly. George’s head came into view, peaking into the room from the neck up.

“Surely not us,” said Fred, his head popping up now too, just below George’s.

“Don’t rule yourself out so quickly,” said Hermione, sharing an impish smile with Ginny.

“Can you believe the cheek on this one?” asked George, striding fully into the room, followed closely by Fred.

“We just came to say order members started arriving five minutes ago,” said Fred, eyes flick back and forth from the hallway through the door and Hermione’s torso. Glancing down, Hermione saw his cardigan and wondered if he might finally want it back now. Was it inappropriate to wear another girl’s boyfriend’s cardigan?

“What?!” Ginny leapt to her feet, nearly knocking the plate of biscuits onto the ground. Luckily, Ron caught them before they could slip off the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ron, standing as well, and placing the plate of biscuits onto the table before darting out of the room behind Ginny.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” said Hermione, looking between Fred and George.

“We’re not allowed to attend the meetings, you see—” explained Fred.

“—so, we have to take what we can get from watching members arrive and listening to their conversations as they walk into the kitchen,” continued George.

“We usually watch from the top of the stairs and sometimes mum forgets to cast a silencing spell and we can use the Extendable Ears to listen in on what they’re saying.” Fred pulled a bundle of fleshy string connected to two life-like ears from his pocket and waved it in her face.

Hermione scrunched her nose, remembering the disgusting items from earlier that afternoon. Exiting her bedroom, she took a seat on the ground near the railing at the end of the hall. The spot looked perfectly over the stairs and the entry hall that she had walked through earlier. Silently they watched as a string of wizards and witches entered Grimmauld Place – some Hermione recognized and some she did not.

“Blimey, it’s Dumbledore,” said Ron.

Hermione turned her attention away from a vibrantly pink-haired woman, who she assumed was Tonks, to the door where, sure enough, Dumbledore stood. “Why is that a surprise? Isn’t he the founder of the Order?” she asked.

“Well he doesn’t show up to a lot of these meetings. He’s a busy man, Dumbledore. Only pops in when he has something really important to share,” said George, looking down at the silver-haired headmaster in contemplation.

“Albus, we weren’t expected you—” Mrs. Weasley greeted the elder wizard in surprise “—will you be staying for dinner?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid Molly. No, I heard you’ve invited Miss Granger here for the rest of the summer. Is that correct?”

Ron, Ginny, and the twins turned their heads to stare at Hermione curiously. Hermione shrugged, just as surprised as they were to hear their headmaster speak of her.

“Yes, yes. She arrived this afternoon. I hope that was alright. I know Ron really wanted a friend here with him and Harry might—”

“It’s okay Molly. You’ve done nothing wrong. I was actually just hoping to speak with her and Ronald before the meeting began. If that’s alright?”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a moment. She wasn’t sure if Ron had come to same conclusion as her, but Hermione was almost one hundred percent positive that if Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to them both, then it was probably about Harry.

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Weasley answered sweetly, before titled her head up and calling out to Ron and Hermione.

“What do they want with you two?” asked Fred, frowning slightly.

“Can’t be too certain, but it’s most likely about Harry,” said Ron with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It always is,” replied Fred and George in unison.

Ron and Hermione made their way down the stairs slowly, until finally they were standing in front of their headmaster. No matter how many times she spoke with the man, Hermione always found him incredibly intimidating. It never lessened.

“Ah! Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore greeted them politely.

“Professor,” Hermione greeted him with a small nod.

“I was hoping I could have a quick word with the two of you. Perhaps, in the parlor?” Professor Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley with questioning eyes.

“Yes, yes. It’s all cleared out now,” said Mrs. Weasley, ushering them to the parlor on the second floor before leaving them alone with their ever-intimidating headmaster.

They watched as the man circled the small space, inspecting the tapestries and portraits on the walls as his vibrantly purple robes dragged on the stained, emerald carpet. Hermione was beginning to feel as though she were responsible for starting the conversation, when Professor Dumbledore finally seated himself on a settee, so moth-eaten and threadbare, the springs were starting to peak through. He motioned for the two of them to take seats as well in the two parlor chairs opposite him.

“Now, I’m sure both of you are wondering why I wanted to meet with you.”

They nodded.

“Yes, well, as both of you are here now and will no doubt soon know most of the Order’s business, I thought it important to have a chat with you,” explained Professor Dumbledore with a small smile. He always smiled liked that, thought Hermione, like he was laughing at some small joke only he knew.

“We won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, besides Harry, we’re the only people we talk to during the summer,” promised Ron.

“Ah – well that’s exactly who you cannot speak to about this,” said Professor Dumbledore, adjusting his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m not sure I quite understand, Professor,” said Hermione, pursing her lips.

“I’d be impressed if you did, Miss Granger. Even with your intellect, it is hard to understand something that has not been explained fully. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the ministry and the Prophet are not acknowledging Voldemort’s return—” Ron flinched at their headmaster’s use of You-Know-Who’s name, but Professor Dumbledore continued unfazed “—Fudge is growing increasingly paranoid as the days go by, I’m afraid. I would like to ask that neither of you tell Harry about where you are, and what you’re doing this summer until you can speak to him in person. It’s exceedingly important that you do not write to him about any of this. Harry has been through a lot in the last few months; best to give him less to think about for a while.”

“You’re not worried about the ministry intercepting our letters, are you Professor?” asked Hermione, realizing the severity of the situation if it were true.

“Ah, you see Miss Granger, that is exactly what I’m worried about. So, for now I ask that you keep your correspondence with Harry brief and to a minimum. Can you do that for me?”

“Absolutely Professor,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, of course Professor,” agreed Ron.

Professor Dumbledore released them after that, disappearing into the kitchen to the dining room where she was told the meetings were held. The rest of the evening was a blur, Hermione’s mind a clouded, foggy mess as she processed what Dumbledore had told them. For as little as he said, the implications behind his words spoke volumes. Fudge wasn’t just denying You-Know-Who’s return, he was growing paranoid. A paranoid, denial-ridden minister in a time such as this was a dangerous thing, thought Hermione.

“You look knackered ‘Mione. Perhaps you should go to bed?” a voice whispered lightly from beside her as she sat in the nearly empty dining room, staring into the roaring fire. Hermione looked up, vision slightly blurred and dotted with floating white orbs from staring too long into the flames. She blinked a few times, seeing Fred’s vision come into view. A small yawn escaped her lips and she nodded, looking around her to see what remained of the Order. Ginny and Ron laughed heartily as Tonks morphed her appearance into all kinds of silly things – she’d been doing it all night and yet the novelty of it had not worn off. Professor Lupin and Sirius were telling some story from their younger years to an entranced George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in the kitchen cleaning up.

“Come on, I’ll walk you,” said Fred, standing and offering his hand to Hermione. Hermione hesitated for a second, looking at the lines of Fred’s long fingers, before nodding and taking his hand. She supposed she was tired. More tired than she’d been in a while. Perhaps she might be able to get some actual sleep. The nightmares had been getting worse. Unsurprisingly, they’d picked back up the moment she’d started spending less time with the twins and more time worrying about Harry’s ability to survive during the tournament. Then, after the final task, after seeing Cedric’s lifeless body sprawled out on the grass as his father cried, they’d only gotten worse. The time spent at home only amplified it as well. It had been almost a month since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. But, with the amount of time spent with the twins that day, she was almost positive that sleep would come easily and peacefully once again.

Hermione and Fred walked up the stairs to the third floor where their rooms resided. She was grateful that he did not apparate them straight up like last time and almost voiced as much. But instead, she opted to stay silent, allowing the soft, comfortable silence between them to last a little longer. This was nice. It almost felt like old times – when things weren’t so complicated and her and Fred were simply friends. When they reached her bedroom door, Hermione faltered, unsure as to why her feet kept her in place. She turned, looking up at Fred in the dimly, candle-lit hallway. The warm light of the candles turned his red hair to flames itself, igniting it in fiery reds and yellows. Harsh shadows streaked across his face, as the flicker of the flames passed his hazel eyes periodically. The goodnight she’d meant to give him, stuck in her throat and instead all she could do was stare up at him and marvel in how handsome he was.

“Thank you, Fred,” she finally managed to force the words from her drying throat.

Fred smiled down at her, reaching up and tucking one of her curls behind her ear. His touch lingered, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing the side of her cheek and sending shivers down Hermione’s body. She swallowed thickly.

“You know—” Fred began, pausing as if he was reconsidering his words “—you never told me how you can always tell me and George apart. Mum and dad almost never get it right and even our friends can’t do it. Merlin, even Angelina sometime—” He stopped, a pained expression on his face that gave Hermione’s heart a little jolt. How horrible it must be for everyone to always be confusing you for someone else. She wondered, for a moment, if he felt much like Ron did – forgotten, living in a shadow. Reaching up without thinking, she placed a hand to his cheek. Fred stiffened at her touch momentarily, but then relaxed into it, leaning his face ever so slightly into the palm of her hand.

“Well, it’s quite obvious really. Your eyes sit straight across, while George’s left one tilts down ever so slightly—” her fingers traced under his eyes lightly “—then of course there’s the line of your nose. Yours is straighter and you have a freckle, here, on the tip that George does not. And one here as well, above your top lip that George doesn’t have either.” Her fingers brushed across each of the freckles, her breath hitching when she got close to his mouth. Fred caught her wrist in his hand, holding it as he stared down at her with an inscrutable expression. Memories of his kiss all those months ago, flashed into the forefront of her mind and how she’d used that kiss to measure every kiss with Viktor. Nothing compared. Often times she’d lie awake at night and wonder if she’d be comparing every kiss for the rest of her life to the one she shared with Fred.

“You noticed all of that?”

“Of course,” breathed Hermione, pulse quickening.

“Why?”

This was all too much. She was getting too worked up over something she couldn’t have. She needed to get ahold of herself. Pulling from Fred’s grasp, she cleared her throat and looked down at Fred’s cardigan she still wore.

“I suppose, I really should give this back to you,” she said, hoping to break the spell between them.

And it did. Fred took a step back, creating space and looking down at the cardigan as well. He shook his head with a small smile before answering, “You’ve had it long enough now. I’d say it’s as good as yours.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hermione.

“Of course. I have loads. Looks better on your anyways—” Fred smirked, taking another step back “—Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight,” Hermione mumbled, watching as Fred disappeared down the hallways and into his own room.

Hermione slipped into her bedroom and quickly changed into her pajamas, before sliding into the soft sheets of her bed. While they held a slightly musty smell from disuse, she could tell they were expensive. Sleep took her quickly. Visions of snow, lights, smart dress robes, and elegant dresses floating through her head as she dreamed. Good dreams.

But it was only a mere few hours later, in the early moments of the morning, before the sun even rose, that she sat up straight – heart beating wildly and brow sweat-slicked. With labored movements, she quietly slid out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny. She grabbed Fred’s cardigan and the pile of notes he’d made her before tiptoeing out of the room in search for a place to work. Surely in a house this size, they were bound to have a library.

Chapter 15>>>

Taglist: 

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@i-d-e-g-a-f

[cultofbeatles]

beginners guide to the beatles

 made one of these a long time ago but i'm surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol. 

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you. 

john winston lennon. later in his life known as john winston ono lennon. 

born on october 9, 1940 

i believe in astrology bc how does john just happen to be a libra 

when john was four he started living with his aunt mimi who acted more as his mother figure 

his mother, julia, remarried and would visit him quite a bit.

it was julia who taught john how to play banjo and piano. and she bought his first guitar.

they both had a deep love for music and rock n roll 

he never really thought of her as his mother but more as a cool friend i suppose 

aunt mimi was more rough on him and did the disciplining 

his father was never really present growing up and his uncle passed away when he was young 

he thought he was a curse for the men in his family 

he had five half siblings. two of them, julia and jacqueline, he was pretty close to. the other three he barely knew. 

fashion icon.

hated school but loved art 

very early on he was insecure with himself 

teachers always shit on him and said he would go nowhere in life 

he met paul at a church fete on july 6, 1957 

paul taught him how to play guitar properly.

once told paul that he didnt know how paul carried on after his mother died bc he just didn't think he could do it 

john’s mother died from being hit by an off duty policemen. john was seventeen at the time. 

 he took her death really hard and became a bit of a recluse. 

first serious relationship was with cynthia (we stan her) 

once cynthia cut her hair short and he didn't talk to her for two days. 

hate men. kill all men. 

when he asked her to dance at a party she turned him down saying that she was engaged, and so he said “well i didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did i?” 

slapped her once bc he was drunk and another boy was talking to her.

only time her hit her.

read cynthia’s books about john pls. i beg. 

once a psychic told him that he would be shot in the states.

founder of the beatles and also came up with the name.

instruments he could play: guitar, harmonica, rhythm guitar, banjo, keyboard, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, and a little drums. 

main songwriter in the beatles along with paul.

was more open minded to change in the beatles music. 

was insecure in his relationship with paul after a while bc he thought he only needed him for songwriting. 

would bitch about paul all day long but the second anyone else said something about him he’d be on their ass. 

had a lot of issues and needed a good hug. 

suffered from eating disorders, drug addictions, depression, insecurities, and questioned his sexuality bc of the time. 

was super open minded and ahead of his time in many instances. 

once he was called “the fat beatle” and after that he stopped eating as much.

truly loved his first son, julian lennon, and would buy him presents all the time bc he was excited to see him play with them.

“your famous ex husband”

he enjoyed playing monopoly. 

he once claimed that he saw a ufo.

he had written three books but he always wanted to write a children's book.

 the last song he ever performed in front of a live audience was “i saw her standing there.” with elton john.

he was afraid of the dark. 

found out later in his life that he was dyslexic. 

was also legally blind without glasses.

never could catch a break huh.

said that his best lyric ever was “all you need is love” i agree.

the first time yoko and john met was not at her art exhibit but actually when she approached him about giving away songs for free.

wanted to write a musical with paul. 

once a friend dared him to masturbate ten times in one day and he managed to do it nine times.

would hold circle jerks with paul and a few other friends. 

just dudes being dudes. 

went on a holiday with brian epstein, who was gay, and told some people afterward that they did certain sexual things. but we will never know for sure.

yoko says that john was bisexual.

once in an interview he said that he would of married a rich man or woman if he wasn't in the beatles. 

hated his voice on records. would always ask for effects on his voice for final recordings. 

made a film with yoko where it was just his penis going from flaccid to erect for fifteen minutes in slow motion. 

only beatle not to of become a vegetarian while he was alive. 

murdered on december 8, 1980.

gave his autograph earlier in the day to the man who would murder him.

died at the age of 40.

“all my loving” was played while he was at the hospital.

and its spooky bc a lot of times in interviews he would say “when i'm 40..” 

and it’s sad bc he was finally becoming who he truly wanted to be. 

honorable john moments that i love:

“thanks for the purpler hearts” he says while receiving the silver heart 

“you are the first person from liverpool that i've ever seen” “great”

eric lennon on my mind today 

this come together performance where he messed up the lyrics lol

that interview where paul was sick and john keep checking on him 

john lennon speaking nothing but facts 

when he said that he could see the beatles going separate ways but that they'd always come back together.

SHUT UP 

“shut up while he’s talking..”

this interview breaks my heart sometimes 

and this interview is great as well 

sir james paul mccartney 

born on june 18, 1942

if you ever have spare time just check out this man’s natal chart. 

idk how he’s still alive with his chart tbh. 

he has a younger brother named mike and a step sister named ruth. 

his dad thought he was the ugliest baby he’d ever seen when he was born. 

when he was young paul would kill frogs in a way to prepare himself for the war if he ever was drafted. 

the first instrument he ever learned to play was the trumpet.

I don't even want to list every instrument this man can play but trust me when I say it’s a lot.

but for the beatles he mainly did bass, vocals, and piano. sometimes playing the guitar and the drums.

the beatles was just paul moving really, really fast. 

he lost his mother when he was 14 due to surgery for breast cancer.

never really learned how to cope well with loss of a loved one tbh. 

had the cutest chubby cheeks as a kid tbh 

met john and was accepted into his band 

sometimes they'd ditch school together and either work on music or would visit art galleries.

went to paris with john and john bought him all the banana milkshakes that he wanted.

connected over their love and admiration for music, and bc they had both lost their mothers. 

had a girlfriend’s mom who he would make comb his leg hairs. 

was an ass to his first girlfriend.

kill all men again. 

almost had to marry his girlfriend dot bc she was pregnant, but she ended up losing the baby.

was the one who introduced george harrison to john.

practically despised pete best and stuart stutcliffe bc they were bringing the group down. 

got arrested along with pete best bc they lit a condom on fire in hamburg.

still felt awful and a little guilty when stuart died suddenly. 

main force behind the beatles imo. 

without him we’d have not as much beatles music as we do. 

was dating jane asher throughout majority of the sixties. 

when they first met they talked about syrup and paul fell in love.

they broke things off after she walked in on him sleeping with another woman though.

directed magical mystery tour and it was amazing and I don't care what anyone says ok?

when john divorced cynthia he was the only one not scared of john and went against his wishes of not speaking to cynthia.

was a little controlling at times. 

has a good heart though. 

mal evans had to drive him home once after a beatles sessions bc he was crying so hard. 

was talking about getting the band back to touring when john said he was leaving the group. 

everyone kind of turned against him when the beatles were breaking up and i hate it.

he just wanted what was best for the band.

married linda and had a nice little farm. 

we love that story.

linda i'm free thursday if you want to hang out pls.

started up the whole “no meat monday” thing where you don't eat monday on mondays

food meat. not the other kind of meat.

children: james mccartney, stella mccartney, heather mccartney, mary mccartney, and beatrice mccartney. 

rip martha. 

WINGS!! 

he lost linda in 1998 due to cancer.

 cried for a whole year bc of it.

still has dreams about john and says they're nice.

wrote a sad song about john called “here today.”

really loved john. like..he truly, genuinely did. 

want someone to love me like paul does john. 

“think of me every now and then old friend.”

honorable paul moments:

his story about george’s dad 

“john? he was beautiful. very beautiful.”

humpty dumpty rap 

another story about him and george.

his google search video that I watch every week 

this 

george harrison 

born: February 24, 1943 

or at least we think 

bc he use to say that his birthday was february 25, but later started saying it february 24. 

why can't we change our birthdays its not like we picked it 

he was the youngest child.

baby of the family and of the beatles awwww

two older brothers named harry and peter. one older sister named louise.

when george’s mom was pregnant with him she’d play sitar music.

his mom was super supportive of his career choice 

when he was 16 he worked as an electricians apprentice.

his dad kind of hoped he would start a family business out of it.

george said nah

would ride the bus opposite way of his house just to spend time with paul 

headbutted a kid bc he didn't think they were worthy of paul’s friendship 

was brought into the band bc of paul insisting to john 

would follow john around like a lost puppy when he first met him 

once had an eight hour erection. don't ask me how idk he said it.

was 17 when he lost his virginity and the other band members were in the room watching and cheered him when he finished 

most sex craved beatle tbh 

once walked into a girls dressing room and asked if they could stand there so he could masturbate 

he was the first beatle to go to america 

got a black eye for defending ringo once 

would make john and paul take turns sharing rooms with ringo when he first joined the band so that he felt more welcomed 

when ringo left during the white album and then came back george decorated the studio with flowers for him 

during the beatles first recording session he told george martin that he didn't like his tie

became a vegetarian at 22 

favorite candy was jelly beans and purple was his favorite color 

used the phrase “grotty” in the hard days night movie, hated it, but everyone else picked up on the slang 

met his first wife, pattie boyd, on the set of a hard days night 

was turned down by her at first 

they married in 1966

wouldn't let her do modeling stuff and was kind of an ass 

a stylish couple but not the best image for a healthy relationship 

got into eastern religion around 1965 

during the Hamburg days he would eat chicken on stage 

had an affair with ringo’s first wife maureen 

got a divorce from pattie in 1977

in 1978 he married olivia who he stayed with until his death and had one son with. dhani.

was the first beatle to hit a number one single and album. 

was buddies with led zeppelin

inspired their “rain song” 

smashed a piece of cake on john bonham’s head and then was thrown into the pool by him 

he financed and produced films. had a production company.

tom petty said that george never shut up once you started talking to him 

but he was often referred to as “the quiet beatle”

formed another band called the traveling wilburys

he’d answer questions online in the 2000′s and it’s the cutest thing ever and his answers break my heart too.

“what do you miss most about john lennon?” “john lennon.”

in 1999 a schizophrenic person broke into his house and stabbed him 40 times 

thank god olivia was there bc she was the only braincell in the room 

had to get a part of his lung taken out 

died november 29, 2001 from lung cancer 

ashes were scattered into the ganges river 

honorable george moments:

this interview he did with ringo 

“i'm sad bc i can't play guitars with john anymore. but i did that...i know we’ll meet again some day.”

when he invented reaction videos 

“the wind was blowing.” “..blowing my girl?”

“what kind of girl do you like?” “john’s wife.”

sir richard starkey aka ringo starr 

born on july 7, 1940 

oldest member in the group 

has no siblings 

naturally was left handed but his grandma thought it was bad luck so he writes right handed, and plays drums with a right handed kit 

but does everything else left handed

when he was 6 he fell into a two month coma 

was a very sick child 

when he was 13 he was in the hosiptal for tuberculosis and formed a hospital band 

grew up poor 

loves and looked up to his stepfather a lot 

his step father bought him his first drum kit in 1957

wasn't that great in school bc he missed so much of it from being so sick 

he worked for a britain railway for a while 

also served drinks on a day boat for a job 

loves dancing 

Rory storm and the hurricanes 

got his nickname from all the rings he would wear

replaced pete best as the beatles drummer 

dealt with people hating him for a bit bc they liked pete more 

had to style his hair in a bowl cut to be in the band and i'm still mad at them for making him do that shit 

ringo i'm so sorry 

george martin didn't really like his drumming and had a session drummer come in for the first album 

in 1964 he had tonsillitis, pharyngitis, and high fever all at once and had to be in the hospital for a bit.

was worried the beatles would replace him for good 

he’s a cancer don't worry

was the first beatle to try weed 

drummers always go first huh 

married his first wife, maureen, in 1965 

she kissed paul, ringo, and george.

what a champ

honeymoon was ruined by reporters 

was really insecure in his relationship and needed a lot of reassurance 

had a great relationship with pretty much all the beatles 

but a great one with john 

john felt his most relaxed when he was with ringo

was once in a movie with roger daltrey 

divorced maureen in 1975 

his wife now is barbara bach who he married in 1981 

had alcohol problems 

once gotten so drunk that he beat barbara so badly that he thought he killed her 

put himself into rehab after that 

barbara lowkey looks like jan from the office 

children: zak, lee, and jason

zak is the drummer for the band the who 

peace and love 

but don't send me fan mail anymore 

peace and love 

ringo starr and the allstar band (starting 1981)

was the narrator for thomas the tank engine 

will play at paul’s concerts sometimes now for fun 

mad bc he came on stage during paul’s last concert show and it was on my birthday and I couldn't go to it 

honorable ringo moments:

“do you want me to come with you?”

stupid barbara walters 

talking about paul 

giving us a little dance