#always faking modesty while he's just being an ass

[rogerbarel]

Triple-Layer Cake/A Half-Baked Trey Clover Ramble

I've done this rant in more private places but am finally putting it on tumblr. This is going to be its third rewrite (if you count the time I did it as a fifty-tweet thread on yumepriv, which I'm not sure you should), but it is probably not any more cohesive since that isn't my strong suit. I'm basically throwing possible motivations for Trey's behavior at a wall and seeing what sticks. I also still don't know if I'm cooking, stating what everybody already knows, or am drawing completely unreasonable conclusions unsupported by the text. Nonetheless, I scream into the void once again. Actual material under the cut.

contains spoilers for EN-unreleased birthday vignettes

A while back, before I was even on tumblr again, this screenshot of a tumblr post about fandom misinterpreting a character in the exact way that character would want to be misinterpreted was floating around. And it made me think of Trey because approximately 50% of things do. For as long as I've been adjacent to the fandom, there's been this whole debate on how much of his "responsible big brother" image is deliberate/fake vs how much of it is genuine.

And I don't know if I like that more either/or approach to him. Trey's like Shrek. An ogre. An onion. He's got layers. But he's also a baker, and cakes are sexier than onions, so I'm opting for the more thematically appropriate analogy even if it doesn't work as well as far as visibility goes. (Although I suppose you might taste the layers separately/in order.) I'm honestly just being stubborn with this analogy. Bear with me, please.

Everybody sees his nurturing top layer, both in- and out-of-universe. But beneath that, he's a little selfish and vindictive. There's no denying this based on how he capitalizes on any chance to incur a favor as well as his preferences for revenge over forgiveness (see: wanting to watch Savanaclaw get their asses handed to them after his injury, making his underclassmen eat their cataclysmic cake after they insulted his work, Doodle Suiting his upperclassmen's cakes to be ultra spicy after they threw him under the bus as a freshman). He even admits to Epel that he's not a good person. He knows what he is.

But the way he does it has always sat oddly with me. It seems like overkill. Unnecessary. Why not let people think well of him? It reminds me of Vil's labwear vignette where he downplays his skills. He gives a too-quick protest that Vil suspects is part of an intentional image of humility. In that case, insisting that he has bad traits is just showing that he has another trait people tend to like (modesty). It's not like Epel responds to Trey's self-effacement by saying, "Oh, you really must be kinda shitty if you say so!" So I think this modesty contributes to his super average "everyguy" image as well as lightly dissuades people from thinking he's too good or reliable. No "You can count on me!" hero volunteering.

If he seems too nice, like Neige, folks might become suspicious and start playing closer attention to him, especially at a school like NRC. They may either want to see him finally snap and show what he's "really" like (to be fair, I also want to see him snap), or they may look for a way to take advantage of him. And he has enough on his plate as is!! Can't have more people who think he can shoulder it all. Trey needs to be unremarkable, so he needs to remind people that he has flaws besides his taste in hats, even if he rarely lets them show. (More on why they don't show in a bit.)

I think my reading diverges from some others' (at least those I've seen in the twt circles I inhabit) here: Even with all his vindictive tendencies, he's still deeply devoted to his loved ones. I don't think it's accurate to say that the cruel, manipulative Trey is the "real" Trey, or at least the whole real Trey. It's just a part of him. The care that he shows for Riddle, his siblings, and the named Heartslabyul characters is largely genuine.

He can act selfishly, don't get me wrong. It bugs me when people forget that. He's been dismissive toward Cater in favor of Riddle (moreso in EN than JP), and he subtly and not-so-subtly manipulates people for his benefit and the group's benefit multiple times. But it's not necessarily because he sees them as tools or playthings, which is a reading I've seen a surprising amount of times. (That being said, it is a fun one if you're exaggerating a character's villainous traits! I think he could treat someone like this under the right circumstances. You could write Trey with more of this quality, and it could be believable. But I don't think it cancels out his ability to care for people entirely.) It's just something he thinks is at least somewhat acceptable to do to others, even his loved ones. Maybe he rationalizes it. Maybe he can't help but find a little pleasure in playing with him, no matter how much we cares. If we can accept that Jade shows Floyd and Azul love through his desire to put them through an emotional saw trap, it's not too far-fetched to suggest that Trey's definition of love allows for manipulation or desire to see someone cry. He can rationalize lying to them for the sake of stability or not letting them know about his own desires. I also think that the internal conflict between "I care for these people deeply" and "I will still manipulate them" is more likely to drive him to admit that he's not a good person than not caring for them at all. Seems like a bad strategic move to admit that if you're really just using them as playthings.

Trey doesn't always know the best way to support his loved ones (understandable! How many of us struggle with this far into adulthood?) and thus conflates the stability they need with an unrocked boat. He doesn't recognize that a situation like Riddle's is inherently unstable and always will be if nothing changes. He, at least at first, seems to believe that the shitty situation you know is better than risking it all and potentially losing everything. He knows that he's failing Riddle, but what can he do? From Trey's perspective, he is a large part of the reason--if not the reason--that Riddle was locked away from the world once. What if he fucks it up again? What if he loses Riddle forever this time? (I think this history and fear is also one that keeps him from trying to close the distance between himself and Cater.)

Convincing himself that he's a bad person (which seems like a needlessly heavy judgment for the fairly mild pettiness we've seen from him in the text) might also soften the blow if things do go wrong. This way, he can convince himself that he didn't care as much as people assume he did. Love doesn't go into the things he does, or so he says. (It's even more questionable since he directly contradicts this statement in his alchemy dialogue. What is the truth, Trey Nicole Clover?)

So, to bring it all back around to the Trey cake, I think his bottom layer is anxious. And tired. Not in a way that is consistently, consciously anxious. Don't write him up a Prozac prescription yet. He's internalized these ideas that he shouldn't be noticeable, because when he does noticeable things, they go very wrong. His purpose is to keep people's lives running smoothly. So he sends those caregiving tendencies into overdrive. He's got it covered, he doesn't need more to cover, and hat's all anybody really needs to know about him. Even that is a bit too much sometimes.

Based on how Trey talks about his family, I don't think he was neglected or super duper parentified, but he doesn't talk much at all about things that they've done for him in comparison to how often he talks about what he's done for them (cooking when his parents' work took precedence, sewing his siblings' Halloween costumes, getting Magift tickets for his brother). He never shows any bitterness about it, and I think their relationship is genuinely pretty okay. No resentment there. But it is noticeavle, and he also won't even be straightforward about what he wants for himself on events where he is expected to want. He says he's joking after requesting that other people take on his chores for the day on his birthday; he uses indirect rather than direct methods to persuade Riddle to get a food processor for Heartslabyul during Starsending. Dude, you probably could have just asked.

I think Trey has this idea that he doesn't need to (or at least shouldn't) ask for anything. If I reach reeeeeeeealllll hard, I could say that one of our biggest examples of Trey wanting and pursuing something as a child--Riddle's friendship--clearly traumatized Riddle, and it had a massive impact on Trey, too. So Trey learns not to want, or at least not to be SEEN wanting.

Is this why he wants to seem so average, unremarkable, modest in others' eyes? Because wanting something is dangerous, even if it's just recognition? Just how much did the loss of one his best friends as a child fuck him up? He might not even recognize the mental association he makes; lots of people don't until they've done a lot of really intentional work about that. He just says it's easier this way, to be a cog in everybody else's lives. And it is, to some extent, but it's also deeply frustrating and exhausting. (I'd like to see more interactions between him and Jamil, who also hides his true potential, and very clearly suffers for it.)

So I think some of Trey's middle layer pettiness--not all of it, since his birthday vignettes show that he's been a bit of a troll ever since he was a kid--comes from the tension between his visible "caretaker" layer and his ultra-hidden "appreciation would be nice" layer. He reminds me a little bit of a mom who occasionally wants to snap because she feels like she does everything, and everybody just takes it for granted. He's not all "let daddy take care of you kitten," but he's not all cruel and calculating, either. And he might be less vindictive (but no less of a prankster) if he felt appreciated, but he's never going to tell anybody that he wants that. (There's a nonzero chance that he finds openly craving emotional validation somewhat too feminine for him because he's one of the only characters to comment on something being embarrassing "as a man," the other being Epel obvs, and I, like many others, have zeroed in on what this could mean about his feelings on masculinity overall in comparison to other chars. Some people think he's a straight up closet malicious misogynist, but I doubt it. That's a whole other conversation, though, which would probably run entirely on vibes.)

Does he even recognize that he's got a third layer to his Cake of the Self any time other than when Kalim semi-inadvertently calls him out? Or does he consciously push down the desire to be apprecaited? Is it painful? How painful? Does he want a break, or just acknowledgement? Does he feel like the desire to be a caretaker can't coexist with the desire to be gifted a break, to be the one taken care of for once?

This has been really really all over the place, and I apologize for that, but it just really gets my goat when people don't consider that third layer. "Trey is just a shitty guy who doesn't experience attachment or empathy (and goes out of his way to say the things he does aren't about love and then contradicts himself later) or guilt and simply feigns kindness" feels too easy. Like another thing he'd be happy to let others believe so that he can continue to hide something else. And I, in my delulu heart of hearts, think that "something else" is desire and the fear of it.

I'm currently divided on if I think the boys' dream bubbles represent their wants or just what Malleus thinks they would want, but either way, I'm hoping Trey's dream will give us a little more insight into his head. And if I was wrong about all of this, then I'll go sleep under the bed for a while and cry about how much of the fic-that-only-exists-in-my-head must be rewritten, but at least we'll have some answers. Oh Heartslabyul, I miss you so.

[away-ward]

Where'd You Go

Summary: Alex learns Will has a somone. Alex POV. Set sometime between Corrupt and Hideaway.

Alex

“Whoa,” I panted, falling back. My head landed somewhere among the mountain of pillows and sheets that Will and I rucked up. My limbs…well, I waited to hear back from them. “That was…” I trailed off, still trying to catch my breath while processing what just happened.

I turned to look for Will and located him at the opposite end of my bed. I smiled and laughed when I saw he’s just as out of breath as I was. I always gave as good as I got, if not better. Usually, Will and I matched energies, but this time was something else.

He was something else.

Finally, sensation started coming back and I could control my tongue again. “I feel like I should be paying you.” It’s a joke, but only partly. It could be exhausting to be everything to everyone all the time, so it’s an rare pleasure to have someone treat me once in a while.

Will laughed, a weak two snickers sort of thing, without his natural jubilance. It pulled on the sense I hadn’t paid attention to before. Something was off with him. I ran through everything happened since we met up hours ago.

He was fine earlier, in Michael’s penthouse. Joking and laughing, being the life of the party; never ready for the night to end. When it did start to die down and people started leaving, I dragged him back to my place to keep him happy. He needed me, and honestly after the week I had, I needed him. In the bedroom, we were laughing, tripping and pulling on each other. It was always easy with Will because I never had to pretend to be anything. He didn’t want me to be anyone other than me.

I tried once and I failed miserably. He made me swear never to try again. To this day, he’s only person I wasn’t able to pull under.

It was our usual course for the night, so what changed?

I pushed him on the bed, eager to show him one the outfit I wore for a client this week. I liked showing him what I put together. He always put on this posh accent and critiqued it like he’s a fashion designer. It’s hilarious and fun and had become one of my favorite past times.

He didn’t do that this time, did he? I missed it then, but as I replayed it now, he didn’t even notice the clothes. As soon as I opened my double closet doors, his eyes found purchase my face before they glazed over and he whispered, “Come here.”

And I went, without even thinking of it.

I looked at Will again. His eyes were closed, head resting against the polished mahogany headboard. He looked tense and not at all like someone who’d just rocked my world. Gathering my arms and legs together, I crawled across the mattress and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. He opened his eyes and I couldn’t believe how weary they looked, despite the smile he gave me.

I cupped his cheek. “Sad boy,” I mumbled, wanting to comfort him but not knowing what was wrong.

“With you? Never.” His hands came to rest on my thighs where he rubbed circles with is thumbs. Distracting himself. He kissed the palm of my hand. “Thank you as always.”

“I should be thanking you. That was amazing.”

Will shrugged, feigning modesty. “Well, shucks. You don’t have blow hot air up my ass to make me happy. Just – “

I slapped his bare chest. “You’re ego’s already as big as your dick. It doesn’t need my help.”

“True that,” he replied merrily. “But it doesn’t hurt either.”

I waited, hoping that was a sign Will was returning to normal. But despite his smile and jokes, I still got the sense something was wrong. It wasn’t the smile he used with me, but that fake one he used with everyone else.

“Where’d you go?”

He hummed his question, guarded eyes searching my face. He thought I couldn’t tell when he he’s playing dumb. We were too close for that, now. Maybe Michael and Kai didn’t notice, and even on occasion Rika, but they’re blind to his depth. Not me.

“You went somewhere and then gave me some of the best sex I had in years, which is saying something," I pointed out. Smiling wickedly, using all my skills and experience, I massaged his tense neck to relax him enough to talk. “Where did you go? Because you weren’t here with me.”

His brow furrowed and he pulled my hands off of him.

He pulled. My hands. Off.

“Nowhere,” he said, dodging my gaze.

“You expect me to believe that?”

He shook his head, scoffing. “Believe what you want.” Gently, he pushed me so that I was back on the bed as he stood. Everything about his behavior was so not Will, I was dumbstruck for words. It’s like I didn’t even know him.

It’s like he was one of my clients.

Puzzled, I studied him further, shuffling through his behavior before, during, and after. “Was it the outfit?” I wondered aloud, mostly to myself. It was the only difference last night, but he’d never had that kind of reaction before.

Will’s back was still facing me as he walked around, looking for his discarded clothes. At my words, his shoulders stiffened. Then his back expanded with a deep breath and he carried on.

I could work with his wordless communication. Half my job was noticing the things people don’t say, noting their reactions to the different buttons I pushed. If Will wanted to act like a client, then he’d get treated like one.

“No, not the outfit,” I continued. I watched for the subtle changes in his demeanor that he wouldn’t even be aware of.

His head turned slightly toward the corner of the room and I followed. Nothing over there except the dresser, some décor, a table and a lamp. A few articles of clothing got tossed in that direction, but nothing stuck out.

I pushed harder as Will redressed. “My client has a thing for secretaries. That’s why the skirt and blouse.” True, it was more tame than normal attire but I never judged. People want what they want, after all.

“And the glasses.” Will said, his voice carrying an unusual rasp.

Suddenly, pieces clicked in to place, and I get a bit more of the puzzle that is Will.

“Ah,” I laughed. “I get it now.”

“You do?” He turned around and smirked, pretending to be clueless. “Get what?”

“Whoever it is you went to tonight,” I answered. “She’s you’re first, huh?”

He laughed bitterly. “Hardly.”

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. I would doubt he’d even remember that name. “I don’t mean first like that. I meant you’re first heartbreak.”

He still tried to pull out that fake-ass smile, but he lost when his eyes lowered from mine. “Who says I’ve ever had my heart broken?”

I sat up straighter. “Will, don’t lie to me. You promised.” I smiled knowingly at him, because I had his number. “Besides, like recognizes like, right?”

He sat in one of the side chairs in my room, looking at me, and I try to let all the things I always hold back show. It’s hard being vulnerable. And thinking about him? Ugh, gag me. But for Will? Maybe I could. He already knew there was someone. I’d mentioned it off handily before, because if I could be casual about it, it didn’t matter. Maybe somewhere deep inside, I always knew he had a someone too.

“So,” I began, “tell me about Glasses.”

He shook his head again. “She’s nobody. Not even worth the breath would take to say her name.”

“And yet you won’t.”

He pinned me with a pointed stare, but doesn’t respond.

“Look, the only thing I’ve seen take your smile away is also the only other thing you won’t talk about.” The answer remains unspoken between us: the lost years.

Prison.

“You’re point?”

“If thinking about her hurts as much as thinking about that, then she’s not nothing and you’re not over it.”

When his eyes shifted, I almost regretted pushing him. His bright greens shimmered with unshed tears, the surrounding area growing red and flushed. I’d only seen him like this a handful of times, and most of those related to him almost dying and losing his best friend.

Whoever this girl was, she did a number on him.

I scrambled from the bed and over to him, falling into his lap and wrapping my arms around his head. I leaned over him, my hands weaving in his hair as I held his head to my naked chest. His arms came around me and anchoring me to him. He didn’t cry, but I felt his shuddering, labored breathing as he worked regained control, shoving it all back down.

When I was sure he’d had a handle on it, I leaned back and looked down at him. I smoothed back his brown hair so I could see his eyes. All that remained was a light reddish hue around the whites, which anyone could mistake for him coming down from something. Nobody would ever know.

I leaned down and press my lips to his. Taking his upper lip between mine, I held it there with light pressure, apologizing. After a brief moment, he forgave me, licking and sucking hard on my bottom lip. We breathed in each other, comforting each other, falling back into our natural rhythm.

“Sun’s up,” I said after we paused for a while. “How about breakfast. Your treat.”

It was always his treat.

He nodded, smiling big. “Sounds good. Feel like I haven’t eaten in days.” He lightly slapped my exposed thigh and I stand from his lap. I laughed; he’s always hungry for something.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into my en suite bathroom. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Don’t leave me alone too long,” he joked backed. “Trouble’s always just around the corner.”

The alarm system beeps as the front door opened and closed. Never thought I need an alarm system in Delcour, but that was before I’d fallen in with my new friends. I had a quick shower and did my morning skin care before dressing in jeans and a tee. On my way out, I spied the black rimmed glasses laying upside down on my bedside table. I flashed back to Will lifting them from my nose and setting them down there.

He did it with such carefulness that I was filled with the thorough, deep comprehension of how much he loved that girl.

How much he still loved her, despite what he said.

I wanted to be angry at her on his behalf. Anyone who could find it in themselves to hurt Will wasn’t someone I needed to feel compassion for. Still, in my experience, things were rarely one-sided. And Will had plenty of people who could be mad for him; vengeful for him. He needed someone who would try to understand without simply placating him.

I loved Will enough to be that person.

But I also felt enough of his pain to never touch those glasses again. I picked them up from the table and snapped the rims, tossing them in the trash.

--

Thank you for reading!

I was thinking about how when Emory met Alex, Alex had seen a picture of her and said that Will called her 'sassy' or something like that. So eventually, Will confides in her, but I don't think he'd do it all at once.

Master List

[bluehairperson]

Btw, those “Valerius is reticent to show his affections towards MC even after they get together“ dynamics in Val/Mc fics are great for angst, but you can’t tell me this man wouldn’t BRAG all day to every single person in the city about how the greatest magician of continent, the hero of Vesuvia and of their whole dimension in general, fell in love with him over anyone else. He would be like one of those white soccer moms that constantly elevate their own kids, but with MC, while (not even much) trying to sound really casual about it.

“Oh?? The Court Magician?? The individual that came back from the dead just to save the whole world and who is pretty much the physical embodiment of a deity?? The one who defeated THE DEVIL?? My fiance who adores me very much even tho they could have had tHE COUNTESS?? Yes, of course, I happen to have heard of them.”

[plutonianrising]

the waiting game n.k.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

wc: 2.9k

description: reader has a knack for weaseling her way out of trouble but today nanami's knots are tied tight

a/n: this is incredibly self-indulgent im not sorry though

cw: f!reader, dom!namami, bratty reader, kink exploration, shibari, edgeplay, subspace, degradation, red/yellow/green light system, pwp

MINORS DNI PLS

“Your lack of impulse control is still pretty astonishing though,” Nanami cocks an eyebrow at you. “I doubt you could actually handle holding an orgasm off for 10 minutes let alone 45.”

You work to manage the urge to argue over him and prove his point. Calmly, with the most pleasant smile you could muster, you say “that’s what you’re here for. I promise to tell you when I’m close. Every time. Promise.”

He’s still skeptical of how seriously you’d take this. It’s hard to believe in you when you’re playing with your fingers behind your back and have a familiar wicked glint in your eyes. You had a knack for saying you’d listen well and then changing your mind halfway, opting to get your way just a little bit even if it meant punishment. Still, the sight of you begging for mercy is always a welcome one and the thought of it already makes his pulse jump.

“Alright. But I’m putting some precautions in place.” Nanami tells you. You purse your lips, already feeling like he’s set the game on hard mode.

“Whaaat kind of precautions?” You inquire, squinting.

“I’m restraining you so you can’t touch. This is a good time to start breaking that bad habit. Don’t you think so?” He smiles conspiratorially. It dawns on you now that you shouldn’t have come in so hot, boldly suggesting 45 minutes during your first real attempt at it. “Go ahead and sit on the bed and wait for me. I’m going to freshen up and get everything ready.”

Nanami sends you off with a searing kiss and a smack on your ass that leaves you giggling as you head to his bedroom. It’s small moments like these that you can’t help but wish for more of. The speed in which you pack your bags to sleep over whenever he has even a little bit of time off would be embarrassing if he were anyone else. But he’s Nanami and here, for your eyes only, Kento gets to fully be himself. Goofier than he’ll ever let on and a very specific brand of annoying that means he’s incredibly dependable but also eats your desserts while commenting on how they were much too sweet for him.

When he’s back in the room you’re already undressed and sitting at the edge of the bed. The perfect picture of obedience with your hands clasped in your lap as you patiently waited for his return. He’s half dressed in a tight shirt and boxer briefs that show off his toned leg muscles. In his hands is a smooth black rope. His eyes seem to glow with hunger as he takes you in.

This isn't the first time he’s used these ties on you. You can still remember the tingle of excitement that shot through you after finding out that bondage was one of his favorite kinds of play. Even outside of the sexual aspect of it, he’s making it one of yours. It’s a loving act. One full of devotion and precise calculation. There’s always complete and utter focus in his eyes as he slides the rope against your skin. His work is neat and even, with your safety at top priority. With a rope wound tight enough to bite your flesh and steal your breath if you fought too hard, you give Nanami your full trust. And once he has it, he has the power to make you feel like a masterpiece. You’re reminded of this power as he caresses his work. Rope winds around your torso with a slight emphasis on your arms. Soon enough your arms are crossed and caged against your chest. Nanami tugs the final knot at the center of it and stares into your eyes as you try to keep your composure.

“How does it feel?” He whispers and you think that he must know that it feels perfect. You curse the way he wets his lips and smirks slightly.

He must have a book hiding somewhere.

“It feels good Kento.” You whisper, wriggling around a bit as he then spreads your knees apart. Nanami hums in satisfaction.

“Relax for me.” He says, reminding you to keep you still as he presses down on your thigh, strong hands deftly moving to immobilize your left leg with the black rope in a frogtie.

“How am I supposed to do that?” You complain, still squirming as his touch warms your skin. Have his hands always been so large, his touch so insistent?

“Or don’t. But it’ll be your skin rubbed raw after. Not mine.” Nanami warns. “My best work only comes from your cooperation. Remember?”

You huff but keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead you focus on the tight muscles of Nanami’s arms rippling under his shirt. He knots your right leg, and you flush at how stretched apart you are. Your only source of modesty comes from your hands covering your chest and they flex and unflex as your head starts to catch up with what happens next. You kick yourself for agreeing to being tied up, wanting nothing more than to touch him. You take your lips between your teeth slightly as you catch his gaze raking down your figure. Nanami slowly runs a few fingers over you. He travels upward from your bare thighs past your hips and traces feather soft patterns on your stomach. You can’t help the way your legs twitch when he finally dips his fingers lower and presses against your pussy, stroking you.

“Give me a color sweetheart.”

“Green.” You whimper. “Please kiss me.” Nanami seems to consider it for a moment but removes his touch completely from you instead.

“Be good for me and you’ll get as much of me as you want.”

“Don’t you think you should start the clock before you get me all riled up?” You protest as he places the bullet vibrator and a spare pillow in between your legs, the toy nuzzled snug right against your clit. “I deserve a fair chance.”

“Oh so now you’re the only one allowed to cheat and bend rules?” He quips with a teasing smile. You have no retort for that but mostly because Kento has turned on the vibrator. Your hips buck against the toy and pillow on impulse at the abruptness and you glare at Nanami who shushes you and begins to speak over the quiet buzz.

“Since it’s your first time edging we’ll start with 25 minutes, starting now. Whenever you get close you need to tell me. And if you cum before you’ve gotten permission then that’ll just have to be it until my next off weekend.”

“Your… next weekend off?” You would’ve screamed if half of your attention wasn’t on the powerful vibrations sending pleasure ricocheting through your body. “We don’t even.. Know.. when that is.”

“I know right? I would hate to leave my love desperate for so long with no clear end in sight just because she couldn’t commit to something she asked for in the first place.” Nanami fakes a pout and you want to bite him. It was bad enough he was threatening to really make you wait so long to touch him without bringing your pride into it.

Nanami watches the way your lips part and pupils dilate as you struggle to remain in control of your reactions. Your hips jump every so often, the rope biting into the soft flesh of your legs. When your soft moans begin escalating and you look to him desperately, trying to decide for yourself if you can handle anymore, it takes more strength than he’d like to admit to not touch himself at the sight of you. He makes the decision for you, and your head lolls a bit as you try to catch your break.

The waves of your demise creep up on you quicker after that. Again and again Kento brings you right to the edge, turning up the intensity of the vibrator after each break he allows you in between.

“I can’t- Kento I’m-” You moan, your voice crescendoing and your eyes screwing shut. You can’t help the way you rock against the pillow even after the vibrator stops and the orgasm that had built within you started to fade.

“Who told you that you could hump the pillow? That’s a pretty pathetic attempt at trying to get what you want.” Nanami chides from his seat.

Your face heats in embarrassment and you avert your eyes a bit. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” He laughs cruelly and lets his eyes rake over your body. “Filthy little slut can’t even control her own body?”

Kento gets up and comes closer, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. His touch was soft, but it was a reminder of the kind of damage he could inflict.

“Stop. Moving.” He warns you coolly, dark eyes narrowing. His ever-deepening well of patience was scary at times but right now you’re grateful for the mercy, needing chance after chance to prove you could make it.

It’s gotten to the point that the lightest of touches make you feel like you’ll succumb and let all your hard work go to waste. You’re almost thankful your nipples are off the table for this play.

“Kento- Kento please I really am gonna-” You whimper, your chest heaving. You feel like any more of this and you’ll start drooling.

“You won’t.” Kento answers.

The commanding bass of his voice makes your senses jump and you panic, barely managing to yelp out another “Kento please” and feel the toy shut off before you’re sent careening off the edge. Your muscles feel tight and your skin sweaty by this point. You can’t tell if Kento is more focused on the heaving of your chest or the way your fingers flex and unflex to try and alleviate the strain of keeping your focus.

“God..how long has it-” You try to speak once it feels like you can breathe a bit again. Nanami smirks at the way your head lolls to one side and your eyes lazily work to focus on him.

“You’ve officially hit 20 minutes, sweetheart. Only 5 more to go.”

“Do you realize how fucking drenched you are baby?” He smirks, pulling your pussy apart slightly to get a better look. “Makes me want to forget all about this and make you fall apart with my tongue a few times. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Don’t.. Don’t say that. The rule is I can’t for another 5.” You force yourself to remember and steel your resolve. You know he’s really just testing you at this point, seeing if you’ll break under his pressure.

“Good girl” He purrs, soothing the small pout off your lips with distracting kisses on your thighs. “The more you control yourself the more I know I can trust you.”

You so badly want him to trust you. Looking down at Kento spoil you while teetering on the edge makes you dizzy. He could tell you to do anything at this point and you’d probably listen if it meant he would indulge you more. Your head swims with the possibility that he’ll treat you like this again if you do well.

Nanami moves aside the pillow and vibrator, replacing the toy with his own hand before you can get upset with him. The gasp that escapes you fills him with pride. All it takes is a slight touch to make your body completely tremble. You can’t actually tell that the alarm has gone off until he whispers how well you’ve done for him.

“See? Didn’t I tell you good girls get everything they want? Now you get to cum all over my fingers all you want.”

Your body is almost afraid to finally let go, so used to feeling coiled up tight that you feel like you might not be able to. Kento senses the struggle within you and softens his touch to bring down the intensity for you just a bit.

“You did it, you deserve this sweetheart.” He presses open-mouthed kisses up your neck, knowing full well the onslaught of praise would send you over. Sure enough, a noise from deep inside of you wells up in your throat as you’re sent crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and try to close your legs only to be stopped by Nanami’s hands, hell-bent on making you ride it out. Your hands clench borderline painfully, your arms testing your restraints. You can’t even plead with him. The pleasure erupting from you, for once, has stolen your voice.

Testing the water, Kento lets a bit of spit fall from his lips. You catch it on your tongue, staring at him lovingly with hazy, unfocused eyes and he almost loses his mind.

“There’s my sweet girl.” He purrs. Nanami knows you’ll be completely compliant now, dredging through subspace. You won’t be giving any coherent remarks outside of anything he commands of you now, all resistance and witty one-liners fading to static in your mind. “Been so good for me today that I actually get to reward you.”

You whine in appreciation. Chest swelling with pride, you bask in his praise. You initially thought it was more fun to see his eyes turn icy when you spent a half a session acting up in order to get punished into this headspace but you could get used to having Nanami painstakingly coax it out of you.

“Tell me your color, my love.” Nanami kisses your forehead, to remind you, first and foremost, that he doesn’t want anything if it doesn’t mean you and he are sharing the pleasure, even if you could only think about how good you wanted to make him feel.

“Green.. hehe..definitelyygreen.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried to prove your focus.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want me to give you in return?” He leans down and whispers in your ear, rubbing your thighs soothingly. You have to think for a moment to actually get the words out, trying to get your brain to be more specific than Kento, Kento, Kento.

“Wantt… want to touch you.. And I… want you inside.” You strain against your ties, not even minding the slight bite of the ropes at this point if it meant he would free you faster.

Nanami lets you place ardent kisses against his skin as he undoes the restraints on your arms and you're thankful to finally, finally, get some contact with him. His skin burns with desire as you pull him onto you. He has half a mind to really pry another orgasm from you with his head between your thighs but the growing ache between his expels the thought. He hastily twists out of his clothes and back onto you. You’ve waited long enough for what’s yours.

Nanami enters you slowly, softly pulling your still-tied legs further apart. You will your eyes not to screw shut, trying to put forth some effort to meet his searing gaze. Neither of you really register the way your nails slightly dig into his forearms from the pressure. The pace Kento sets is torturous. He makes you savor every roll of his hips into yours. It almost feels like he’s squeezing the pleasure out of you. There’s nowhere to run. There’s only him.

There’s no warning when you cum again, your body completely bypassing your brain in the decision. It’s a rush of heat and an uncontrollable tremble. You can barely even recognize your own voice calling out his name. As you squeeze tighter around him, Nanami grunts and wills himself not to bend your legs forward and fuck hard into you until you’re a teary mess. There will be other times for that. Today he just wants to spoil his sweet girl for her efforts to please.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, like he’s not literally fucking the words right out of your brain. If you still had the energy for it you’d bite him.

“Kento please. In...inside… ” Obviously. You keep that snide bit to yourself. There’s no real desire to sass him when he’s making your body shake this badly.

Kento grabs onto your wrists like he’s anchoring himself to you. Through the haze dusting your mind you register his pace getting sloppier and the soft moans that fall from his lips as he finishes inside of you.

It took a bit for Kento’s strength to return to him and a little while longer to pry his eyes off of your blissed out expression. He whispered for you to let go of him so he could take care of you. Shushing your whines, he pries your fingers off of him so he can untie you. He still needs to run the bath and start some tea for you and if he spends any more time in your arms he would fall asleep right next to you without properly performing his duties.

Once he’s back from prepping, Nanami lifts you from the bed and begins to carry you to the bathroom, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With your head clearing slightly, you can fully feel the effects of your win on your ego.

With hooded lids and a proud smirk plastered on your lips you say, “is it too late to add a shopping trip to my rewards?”

[firefly-in-darkness]

Go For Broke

Pairing → Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Characters → Brief mentions of Knives Out characters (maybe?)

Summary → A little bet has big consequences.

Word Count → 2.7k

Warnings → 18+, Swearing, Smut, Angst

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Prompts → Bee's 7K of the Week Challenge; Monday - Ransom Drysdale, Tuesday - Smangst, Friday - Work Function, Saturday - The Dating Bet, (a blink of a praise kink for Sunday).

AFG2021 Square Fill→ "I said 'be sexy', not be a fucking blowfish" @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/N → As I mentioned above, this is for @negans-lucille-tblr writing challenge - congrats on 7k baby!! (I even kept it under 3k for you it wasn't going to be!) This is my first time writing for Ransom, and it doesn't have any connection to Knives Out, it's an AU.

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

Firefly’s Masterlist

You carried two steaming mugs of coffee and nudged the ajar door open with your foot to Ransom’s office. He had leant back on the large leather chair and was taking in the views through the floor to ceiling windows.

He spun round in his chair and you were hit with the scent of his cologne, it had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. His legs parted wide, and the sight was something to behold; the thickness of his thighs and the way his large hand rubbed the top of one.

It was never going to happen between you two. He was Ransom Drysdale, a well-known playboy and skirt chaser. And you, you were his assistant.

He wasn’t the type of man you were after. You wanted someone permanent, someone, that wasn’t just a fuck buddy. But at least you got a little something for the spank bank every now and then.

“Like what you see?” You were caught red-handed by his crystal blue eyes and the lopsided smirk that you adored.

You brought the iPad in front of him to life, “This is your schedule for today. Harlan said that he’s rescheduled the board meeting with Walt to next week so we can relax a little bit. Said there was something to do with taking a risk or gamble?”

Ransom’s head snapped up, and his tongue darted out across his lip, a nervous tick that you’d long ago discovered. You felt a warmth bloom at your core and tried to hide the way your thighs nestled together to ease the growing heat.

Ransom scooted backwards in his chair and announced, “I need to get out of here.”

“You’ve just arrived, you can’t play hooky, you’re the boss.” You protested.

“That’s exactly why I can,” Ransom asserted and pulled his coat back on. “Let’s get lunch at that diner we went to last month. It’s quiet and nobody knows me there.”

You had become used to the whirlwind that Ransom brought with him the second he entered a room, but this was different. He seemed on edge rather than angry and you weren’t sure what had happened in the ten minutes you were away making a coffee.

“But I just made us coffee.” You pouted at him; he knew that you needed that delicious nectar.

“I’m buying lunch now get your coat,” Ransom demanded.

You rolled your eyes and did what you were told, much to your chagrin.

Ransom had driven like a mad man in his classic beamer to get you to Ruby’s Diner in record time. You scolded him once or twice when he just missed the red lights. But he didn’t seem to relax like he usually did when he entered.

All was forgiven when the waitress placed two steaming plates of burgers and milkshakes on the table. You were in heaven and thanked the waitress as you dunked a chip in the sauce.

“What is wrong with you today?” You asked.

“What are you talking about? I’m just being my usual self.” Ransom shook his head and threw the raggedy napkin across the table away from him.

You remained silent and continued to eat, allowing him to stew over whatever it was that was eating at him. It didn’t take you long to demolish your lunch, but Ransom still hadn’t touched his food. All he had done since you told him off was chew on his lip and glared at the sugar dispenser.

“Okay, seriously, you need to start talking.” You challenged.

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “Okay, but you can’t freak out.”

“What did you do?” Your eyes went wide as your mind ran wild with all the crazy things that he could possibly do in the last twenty-four hours.

Ransom looked up at you and laughed, “I can’t take you seriously right now.”

“What?” You frowned, feeling a mixture of confusion painted across your features.

His hand gripped your chin and his thumb swiped away at the sauce that you’d long forgotten. The heat on your cheeks grew tenfold and you coughed when he hadn’t removed his hand from your jaw.

“Ah yeah sorry. Sauce.” He stammered.

You smirked, you’d never seen him this worked up before, what had gotten into him, “So?”

“Okay, don’t fucking freak out on me but someone in the office wanted to make a bet with me. About you.”

You stared at him, all of your thoughts emptied out into the diner, “I’m sorry, what? I think you need to say a bit more than that.”

Ransom explained how one of your co-workers approached him and placed a bet that he wouldn’t be able to bed you before the corporate summer party.

“Who the fuck was it?” You growled; hands clenched on the edge of the seat.

“I’m not telling, I don’t want you to start a fight. You’re my favourite pers-assistant.” Ransom shook his head and began to nibble on the fries. His face screwed up at the realisation they were cold.

“Hold on. You agreed, didn’t you?” Your heart raced.

“I did. I have a reputation to uphold.” He smirked, “and was worth it, you should see your face right now.”

You scowled harder, “how much was the bet?”

“Ten thousand.” He shrugged.

“Fuckin’ hell Ransom, you’re cocksure, aren’t you?” You laughed at him, “why did you accept it?”

“That’s loose change to me.” Ransom shrugged and brought the replaced milkshake to his lips, tongue curling around the straw.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But I want half.” You explained, mirroring his action with your own milkshake.

Ransom choked on his drink and quickly rushed out his words, “you what?”

“We aren’t having sex, Ransom.” You rolled your eyes and placed the drink down, “If they ask, I’ll just say we did. It keeps your reputation intact. No harm, no foul.”

“They want proof.” He raises his eyebrow.

“Fuck sake, okay. Come over to mine tomorrow night and we’ll take some fake dirty pictures.” Without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the booth, “Now, I do have some work to do and funnily enough, so do you.”

“Anyone would think you were the boss.” Ransom playfully sulked and placed some money on the table.

“I might as well be.” You gestured towards the door, “Move it.”

The black baby doll was just perfect for this photo session. It was a little see-through, but your modesty was covered with the lace detailing skimming the tops of your thighs. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you had to get this over with sooner or later. With one final look in the mirror, you steeled your nerves and opened the bathroom door and slowly walked to your bedroom.

“Hello,” You anxiously stuttered, “Where do you want me?”

Ransom’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, his large hands rubbing along his thick thighs, just the way you had admired yesterday. You internally berated yourself, this wasn’t sex. It was all fake. It was an easy win for you both - Ransom kept his reputation and you got a nice little pot of gold for a rainy day, or week.

“Just lay down on the bed and look sexy.” He commented, unhelpfully.

You nodded and shuffled around until you found a comfortable position, with your arms draped above you. It didn’t feel sexy, it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Why is this so hard? You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body and turned to face Ransom. He’d moved the left side of the bed, his phone in hand ready to take the shot.

“Ready?” Ransom asked, and you thought you saw a sparkle of sincerity in his eyes with his one worded question.

“Yes,” you said and gave him your best pout and ‘fuck me’ eyes.

“I said ‘be sexy’, not be a fucking blowfish.” Ransom snapped.

You bolted up from your position, kneeling on the edge of the bed to get back on his level but it was no use, the man was still towering over you, “I’m trying, I’m not exactly in the mood.”

Ransom raised his brow from above, and you hadn’t quite realised how close you were to him, his stomach mere inches from your chest. The lack of response grated on you, his face was irritating, and you were ready to shove the five grand up his ass.

“Actually, this could work.” Ransom pulled off his shirt and revealed the tight muscles. Your anger morphed into desire; you wanted to reach forward and touch him but kept your hands refrained at your sides. “Now, look up at me and bite your lip.”

“Perfect.” He smiled down at you and cupped your face. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and paired with his words; a shiver ran down your spine.

Instinctively, you bit down your lip and unbuckled his belt to the sound of the camera shutter. Hands traced Ransom’s abdomen and he sucked in a breath as you stroked a sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and looked up at him, “maybe we should have some photos where your face is in it too?”

Ransom didn’t need to be asked twice, he pulled down his chinos and exposed his thick muscular thighs. Your mouth watered and warmth bloomed in your tummy at the sight of the black Calvin Klein’s hugging his groin.

You rearranged your position to lie down amongst the sheets while Ransom crawled onto the bed to kneel between your legs. His hand cupped under your knee and hoisted one of them up to his hip.

“You might need to take this one,” he handed the phone to you.

Just as you went to take the photograph, Ransom’s other hand slid underneath the baby doll. It sent another wave of pleasure through your body. His smooth hands stooped just beneath your breast and it almost made you whimper. Almost.

With an attempt to gather your bearings, you decided to focus on his phone and snap a few pictures of this new position. But seeing those little images captured and whizz into the corner made you want more. There was no point denying it as you felt the tell-tale signs of your arousal between your legs. But did Ransom want it?

Ransom moved the sheer material up and lifted your leg higher, over his shoulder. Before you could ask what, he was doing, his body dipped down, his lips so close to pressing against your stomach. Oh god. Your body instantly betrayed you as your hand went straight into his messy short locks eliciting a deep groan from Ransom. His hot breath fanned across your skin, goosebumps raising in its flow.

You took some more pictures, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties, the heat growing and growing up your body. Ransom returned to kneeling and you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and you finally got your answer. He did want it.

A mischievous smirk replaced the smile on your lips, “you’ll want to take these.”

You sat up and turned around so that you were kneeling in front of him and giving a great view of your behind. Ransom couldn’t restrain himself, his hands instantly gripped at your hips and pulling you back towards him. He growled and you whimpered as he rutted between your cheeks.

“Ransom, the photos?” You sang out and smirked into the pillow.

“Oh yeah, right.” Ransom spluttered and began to take the photographs from this new position then you heard the soft thud of the phone dropping onto the mattress, “hang on a minute.”

Gracefully, he spun you around and managed to get underneath you to seat you just above his hips. You were entranced by the dark lust-filled eyes that studied your body, following the hands that skimmed along your waist.

His touch sent sparks across the exposed skin of your chest, his fingers toying with the lace trim as they descended the plunging neckline and over your breasts. You rocked against his stomach, giving you just a little bit of pleasure from the friction at your core.

Ransom bolted upright, one arm wrapping around you while his other hand brought you closer until his mouth met yours. The kiss was heated, it pulled you deeper into the need for more, to have him deep inside of you. Ransom’s tongue swiped along your bottom lip, demanding access and you obliged without hesitation.

You’d only thought of him, like this, late at night and alone. It was nothing compared to your wildest fantasies to have him kissing you like this or to feel him hard beneath you. You squirmed to feel him better, but he broke the kiss.

“Sorry,” He panted.

Your stomach plummeted at the thought of him regretting what had barely started, “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have,” Ransom avoided eye contact and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than you already had done, “we just got carried away.”

“Ransom, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will kick you out.” You raised your eyebrow in a challenge.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Chatter and laughter filled the gaps of the song blasting through the speakers set up around the roof terrace. The large projector screen reeled through photographs of colleagues, in and out of work, successes in the tabloids and social media. Pool water splashed over the edges with each dive-bomb or flirtatious swish between colleagues. You watched on behind the sunglasses and relished in the sunshine beating down. It was rare to have such perfect weather and you wanted to soak up as much of the rays as you could.

The moment you spotted Ransom talking to a few people over at the bar, you thought now would be the best time to approach him. It had been a few hours since you arrived, and you only last saw him the morning before, and a few weeks since that first night. You both wanted to take things slow, it wasn’t how you expected things to happen but neither of you regretted it.

The nearer you got to the bar, you suddenly felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. Side glances from the Marketing girls, a laugh, and a grimace from a few others. Then you saw Ransom rushing up to you but also looking behind.

Before he reached you, you spun around to the projector and saw a display of all the photos you and Ransom had taken that night. Your stomach dropped, nausea taking over until you were about to collapse on the floor.

Hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you on the spot. You looked at the terrified gaze of Ransom. His lips were moving but your ears buzzed with the hum of blood pumping through. Unable to process what had happened, you tried to escape. To get away from the people that were staring, gawking, at you. At you and Ransom on the screen and then down to the pair by the bar.

“Please talk to me,” Ransom pleaded, “I didn’t know that’s what she was going to do.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You asked, your mind reeling with how this could be a vendetta against Ransom, and you’re caught in the crossfire.

Ransom’s eyes widened, “Yeah, probably a year ago.”

“You fuckin’ idiot. Get out of my way.” You tried to walk past him, but he blocked your path.

“Can I come with you?” He asked face paled.

You scowled, “No. Move.”

Ransom followed you, weaving between the crowds of sniggers and laughter. You could hear him pleading, almost begging for you to stop but you refused. You needed to get out of there and he was making it more difficult.

You skimmed the edge of the pool and Ransom grabbed your bicep, attempting to stop and turn you around. Without a second thought, you spun and shoved him. He fell backwards into the pool with a great splash. It only made you feel good for a split second until he resurfaced.

“Consider this my notice, I quit.” You turned on your heel and left the party, your job and Ransom behind.

The End.

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 06 part two

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Bathing Boy Beauties

So, now we and Wei Wuxian get to see Lan Wangji with his shirt off. Eventually Lan Wangji will realize that his brother set this up, and will think of some way to get back at him, possibly by spending three years being stubborn in a cave or maybe by chopping an arm off of someone his brother cares about. 

This is A+ Yibo fanservice but it's also a male-male version of a trope that's ubiquitous in c-drama, in which the male lead takes a bath and the female lead sees him. The purpose of the scene is almost always so a woman can look a man’s body over and decide, not to put too fine a point on it, whether she wants to fuck him. 

Examples:

The Pillow Book - “Which part of Shen Ye is better than me?”

Women’s sexual agency is not often at the forefront in c-dramas, but the bathtub scenes are an acknowledgement of the female gaze, and of male objects of desire being subject to evaluation & approval.

Tientsin Mystic is a show with a lot of muscley swimming in it, In case you’re looking for your next Netflix show. 

As a CGI artist I have to mention that water does not reflect or refract 100% of light. If you look at a naked dingle-having person in a bathtub full of clear water you will definitely be able to see their dingle. But C-drama water is magic and nothing is visible below the waterline, to the point that Bai Yu is modestly covering his thoracic surgery scar chest in Detective L while leaving his lower half uncovered.

Note: that caption isn’t fake; she is really saying this on her way out the door, after having a long chat with him in the bathroom. You can find the whole series on YouTube.

Seen in this context, The Untamed’s two bathing scenes are saying quite a lot. Wei Wuxian, being a boy, doesn’t display any female-encoded shyness or modesty, but he and his sword pause for a moment of admiration.

(more after the cut!)

16 years later, Lan Wangji will sit quietly in this pool and let Wei Wuxian examine his wet body thoroughly from multiple angles, in a more prolonged invocation of this C-drama mating ritual.

Carrying on - was Xiao Zhan supposed to kick his boot in the water like that? Because if not, he rolls with it like a champ.

Wei Wuxian starts trying to be direct with Lan Wangji, giving him the worst, most neg-filled compliment ever, bless his heart.  

Then he says that there are benefits to being his friend, and starts taking off his clothes.

Wei Wuxian here takes his first step into the bold new world of respecting Lan Wangji’s boundaries, asking Lan Wangji to stay and saying he will keep his clothes on. 

Lan Wangji actually does stay, so he's apparently not too angry with Wei Wuxian about the drinking. Wei Wuxian invites him to visit Lotus Pier sometime (see my gifset here), but the promise of lotus pods doesn’t impress him. Then Wei Wuxian tries to tell him that the Yunmeng chicks really knock me out, they leave the rest behind. This also doesn’t impress him. 

You could read this macking-on-ladies talk as a sign that Wei Wuxian is oblivious to LWJ's feelings for him. But I read it as a bisexual boy being horny on main with a boy he likes, not  understanding yet that some boys don’t share all of his turn-ons.

Lan Wangji is sort of mildly startled when Wei Wuxian disappears under the water. His eye makeup is good here, isn’t it?.

Ice Cave

They end up in an ice cave and both spend the rest of the episode showing how good they look with wet hair. 

When the guqin starts attacking, Lan Wangji is only mildly perturbed about Wei Wuxian getting his shit rocked over and over.

Eventually he sends Bichen to protect his very bedraggled date. Lan Wangji’s sword is faster than the speed of a very slow sound wave.

Beauty's where you find it not just where you bump and grind it 

Gusuship Down

I feel like there are a couple of things in this show that are so problematic the fandom has silently agreed to never discuss them. Well, I’m here to talk about this one:

There are rabbits in this ice cave and they are wearing headbands. HEADbands. On RABBits.  

EXCELLENT FUCKING QUESTION, LAN WANGJI

*deep breath*

Are these rabbits lineal Lan descendants? Who makes the headbands? How do they stay on because “headband” here means “glowing cloud on forehead” without any actual band.  When rabbit babies are born, how do they stay safe while they’re waiting for someone to make them baby-sized headbands? Do these rabbits adhere to the other 3499 Lan Clan principles or just the headband one? Is any ol' rabbit allowed to touch a rabbit’s headband or is it limited to parents and significant others and is that even relevant when presumably these bunnies are all fucking each other like...bunnies?

The characters are like “oh, the rabbits are wearing headbands; killer guqin problem solved.” And then they move right the fuck along with their lives and the rabbit headbands are never seen or discussed again and I just want a hit of whatever the author or creative team was smoking when they came up with this whole idea.

Headband Sharing

When Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to hand over his headband, Lan Wangji understands his entire rabbit-based thought process without asking

Gen-X Joke Alert

Wei Wuxian is awfully impressed by this sword-recall trick, considering that he did it himself when they went to the lake.

I see you know your way around a sheath

Killer Guqin

When they approach the guqin I hope that the subtitles are mistranslated, because Wei Wuxian keeps promising not to touch it and then says he can't look at it without touching it. I'm not going to touch it, I just need to touch it. 

Lan Wangji is going to teach Wei Wuxian some goddamn boundaries no matter how many times he has to make him fondle his sword.

Nothing suggestive here

Lan Wangji sits down to play the guqin and immediately goes off into the ether where there are seagull noises and plenty of fans. This is either a state of pure bliss, or he just really likes seagulls.

Did Lan Wangji just have a stealth orgasm?

Speaking of getting off, get your ass off of my desk

The Yin Iron

Lan Wangji does some spirit whispering, and suddenly the cave starts yelling at them. A bunch of clans are chanting in unison about a plan, which is the cultivator version of a battle cry.

Lancestor Lan Yi shows up. She is elegant and has a combination of sweetness and gravity that is similar to Lan Xichen’s. And none of Lan Qiren’s douchiness.

Search Party

Lan Qiren is worried and Lan Xichen is worried and they have sent people to look for the boys. It's really too bad nobody around here knows magic.

All these powerful cultivators search for missing people by running around outdoors yelling for them. 

Yanli is excused from PE class because she’s not feeling well, so she sits on a rock in the woods instead of, you know, staying home in the first place. She gets bored sitting down and unwisely decides to walk two or three steps. Xuan Lu, seen here competing in a gymnastics event, gamely pretends she can’t climb a small rock. 

Yanli falls into Jin Zixuan's arms and they gaze at each other for a long heterosexual moment. 

No homosexual explanation possible

This means two things: 1. he isn't looking very hard for her brother if he's hanging out here catching wobbly girls 2. soulful longing looks from him ain't shit, because he's going to dump her in the next episode.

Lanny Granny

Lan Wangji intros himself to Lan Yi and does a full prostrate bow. Wei Wuxian does a standing bow since he's not a descendant, just a future in-law.

No I mean come on, HEADBANDS

Lan Gran explains the entire history of the yin iron. It's bad, it's full of resentful energy, no-one should use it. She’s going to dump it on a couple of 16 year old boys, one of whom has a woody for using resentful energy, because it’s destiny and her battery is about to run out. 

Props to the Prop Department; this thing does look pretty cool

Xue Chonghai was the most problematic cultivator back in the old days. He killed a lot of dudes and fed their resentment to...a turtle? To the disk? I don’t know; I literally am unable to pay attention when anyone is explaining the intricacies of the unobtanium Yin Iron. 

Anyway there’s a disk and it’s soaked up a lot of resentment.  

Using it makes people evil. Well except..clearly this dude started off evil, yeah? If he was feeding people to his turtle.

Side effects may include: being fucking crazy

Here Wei Wuxian brings out his "resentful energy is awesome" theory and has an experienced grown-up grand master tell him that she also thought this, and has spent 100 years locked in a cave with headband-wearing rabbits because she was super fucking wrong. Does this deter him? ...nope

Baoshan Sanren

Now she name checks Baoshan Sanren, and Wei Wuxian has a big reaction and Lan Wangji has a big noticing of Wei Wuxian’s reaction. He’s very attuned to Wei Wuxian’s emotional state, in the moments where WWX lets his actual feelings show through the sass and swagger.  

Lan Gran talks about her search for the Yin iron, and Lan Wangji wisely says, if you can't neutralize it, why look for it? And she says, I was filled with hubris just like ya boi Wei Wuxian.  Lan Wangji points out the exact same shit he will later point out to Wei Wuxian.

So now we have a parallel in which Lan Yi is just like Wei Wuxian and Baoshan Sanren is just like Lan Wangji, yeah? Which is kind of sweet; it shows how these types are drawn together and how your clan doesn't determine your personality. Also it shows how the Lan clan has room for an unorthodox clan leader. Also it shows how the Yin Iron causes some really bad breakups. 

These boys are standing on snow barefoot which has got to take a pretty high cultivation level. Look how short Lan Wangji is without his stilettos, aww.

Flashback to Baoshan Sanren, just long enough to appreciate how beautiful she is.

Did OP give up on recoloring that flashback-blue-hazed image and just start fucking around with random filters? Yes she did. 

We also get to see that Lan Yi and Lan Wangji have more common than just guqin, because they both like to solve problems by kicking them.  

So after breaking up with her girlfriend, Lan Gran became invisible in this cave for 100 years while trying to contain the Yin iron and put headbands on rabbits. 

Soundtrack: Vogue by Madonna Writing prompt: Watership Down rabbits meet Lan rabbits

Bonus extended bath clip:

Bai Yu, Detective L

[smol-and-grumpy]

Golden Cage - Chapter.11

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She’s a spoiled little princess — at least that’s what people say. Her father is the King of all Kings, the man who everyone fears. Then, along comes Dean Winchester, the one guy who manages to see into her soul, but — — is Dean really who he says he is?

Chapter Warnings: Teasing, violence, angst

WC: 5607

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s in Dean’s bedroom, getting herself ready while Dean talks on the phone. It rang after he came out of the shower and he walked into the living room. She doesn’t know if it’s to give her privacy or if he doesn’t want her to hear. Either way, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she has to get herself ready for a meeting. The first outing that she’s allowed to have in the name of the family. 

Her clothes are all laid out on the bed and while she applies moisturizer to her body. She puts the outfits together in her mind, thinking about what would suit her best, what would be the best outfit that’ll show that she means it. An outfit that shows that she’s a woman who can keep up with the men. Nothing too revealing, she guesses, but something fierce enough to make them gasp. Her mind’s setting on the pencil leather skirt, now she just has to see what blouse would fit best with her skirt and the shoes she’s packed.

Dean’s still talking outside and she hears that he’s trying to keep his voice down. She slips into her panties. The fabric of the little garment rubs a little too hard against her sensitive clit. She thinks about ditching them later, wonders if it would matter. Nobody will know if she’s wearing panties or not, right? Also, there’s chafing from Dean’s scruff that doesn’t support the argument of her having to wear panties. She’s sensitive all over, feels like her nipples are raw from his sucking, too. God, that man will definitely be the death of her, but it’s not like she minds. 

Everything is super sensitive now because they did it again in the shower. Dean’s shower is not as spacious as the shower at her home, but they made it fit and he fucked her standing up against the wall, pressing her back into the tiles and hooked one arm below her knees, lifting her leg up while he rubbed at her clit.

Blood rushes to her head again when she thinks about it. 

So now, she’s standing here, and debates between two blouses. One’s white with long flowing arms and the other one’s red, sleeveless, with a bow around her neck. 

She can’t possibly make up her mind because she likes them both, so she decides to ask Dean. He knows exactly where they are going, he would know what would fit, wouldn’t he? 

Still in only her panties, she clutches the blouses to her chest to hide that little modesty she still possesses, even though she knows that Dean’s seen it all already anyway, and he probably likes her best without any clothes on at all. Knows it, because he had stated it a couple of times, and it always makes her flustered all over.

Dean’s standing at the dining table and her cheeks get hot again thinking about what they’ve done on there. He’s not dressed either, a towel hanging dangerously low around his hips, making him look absolutely delicious with damp ruffled up hair. The scars on his body have a certain edge to them, but the freckles round the edges up. He’s devine and that’s not really fair. He has no business being so perfect.

Biting on her bottom lip, she approaches him, but he’s not paying her attention. He’s looking down to the hand that fidgets around the back of a chair. It’s as if he’s a little nervous, a little on edge.

“Hey,” She hisses and Dean frowns, but still he doesn’t look.

“Dean!” She tries again and he only holds a forefinger up at her to shush her while he concentrates on listening to the conversation. He still doesn’t look up at her. It’s as if he tries to avoid her at any cost.

Rolling her eyes, she tries to think of a way to get his attention, grinning when she gets a flash of an idea. 

Y/N drops the blouses to the floor and shows him her boobs, “Hey!” She hisses again, louder, while she squeezes them together and jiggles them around. 

Well, she gets his attention now, but he’s looking less than amused. Dean frowns, and waves at her to stop. 

Then she hears it. 

“Yes, sir, goodbye.”

Fuck.

He’s talking to her dad. 

And she just flashed him.

Dean hangs up and sets the phone onto the table and exhales deeply before he rubs a hand over his face.

He turns to her after and speaks. His voice is loud and he sounds annoyed, “Jesus fucking Christ, princess!”

Oh, so now she’s back to being princess. She guesses that when he’s upset with her, she’s forever going to be princess to him.

“You can’t just show me your tits when I talk to your father! Fuck, now every time I talk to him I’ll see them in my mind!” He growls low.

She’s smirking and tries not to laugh because honestly, that is a little funny?

Dean begs to differ though, because he strolls closer. One hand goes below her chin, fingers cupping it and turns it upwards to meet his eyes while his other hand cups around one of her tits, palms kneading, fingers pinching at her nipple, she squirms.

“What is it that couldn’t possibly wait until I’m finished with a call?”

“I don’t know what to wear,” She mumbles and Dean groans out in frustration before he bends down to kiss her. 

“You know,” He says when he parts, his hands leaving her completely to pick up her blouses from the floor, “One day, you’re going to kill me with your bratty behavior.”

She grins as he hands the blouse to her, “You like it, though?”

At least she hopes he does. Like, he knew what he had gotten himself into when it all started, so he really can’t blame her for acting the way she does.

He rolls his eyes briefly, but it’s all fake because he’s grinning now when he bends down to peck her lips, “Love it.” 

Smiling, she holds up the blouses and lifts her eyebrows. 

“White.” He nods toward the white blouse, “Although I would love to see the red on you, but I think white would suit better tonight. Makes you look more like someone to take seriously and not some eye candy hanging off someone’s arm.”

“Thanks,” She says and thinks that’s what she likes about Dean. He says things like it is, doesn’t sugarcoat it and he’s not just babbling to shut her up. 

“Go get dressed before I can’t hold myself back from taking you all over again.” He smacks her ass on his way to the bathroom.

“Who said I would mind that?” Y/N calls after him and Dean chuckles.

  She almost threw him off his balance with her jiggly tits. It’s not really fair. And really, he hopes that her tits won’t be the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees Azazel’s caller ID.

The boss had informed him that Benny would be at the meeting too and that rubs him the wrong way. What’s so fucking important for Benny to be there anyway? Azazel made it clear that Benny’s not allowed to interfere with Dean’s business, but Dean will only believe it when he sees it. 

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip as they drive towards Atlantic City. 

It’s a two hour drive and they made it halfway when she turned in her seat. The leather underneath her ass makes a loud sound. That’s right, she’s wearing leather. He almost choked on his own drool when he saw it. 

Dean gets weak for leather. Especially for her in leather. The skirts so tight it accentuates her round ass. He couldn’t help but spank down on it a couple of times while they walked down the stairs from his apartment. Every time she would stop and stare at him with a rolling of her eyes and every time, Dean would giggle like an idiot. 

It’s good between them. They’re relaxed. He likes that. Would like to keep it that way, but he knows that it’s just only the start of a hardship he might have to go through. She might have to go through. 

After they laid in his bed for a while, with her in his arms, he stroked her back, with neither of them speaking. Sometimes there’s just nothing to say and he liked that the most. The comfortable silence. There were no sorry excuses, no thoughts of having made a mistake, no small talk just to get over the awkwardness of the situation after the lust has worn out. And that was the moment that he thought about the future for the first time. That he could just grab her and run away. Nobody would know, nobody would find them. It would be good, he just knows it. It’s only — Dean doesn’t know if she would want it. If she was even ready to leave everything behind, and the last thing he wants to be is selfish. But yeah, maybe he would do it all for her, leave everything behind and screw up the Bureau for a woman. Which is really a stupid thing to do, but it would probably be worth it. 

They drive past a big advertisement for Roman Empire. It’s the biggest and apparently the best casino in Atlantic City. Of course, it is. The Roman’s wouldn’t settle for second best.

“We’re going to meet the Roman’s?” She asks curiously, and Dean can hear it in her tone of voice that she’s not really keen on meeting them. 

“Yeah, they have some proposals.”

“They’re dicks.” She mumbles under her breath.

Dean has to chuckle at that, because she’s not wrong. The Roman’s are the number one mob family in Atlantic City. They are the equivalent to the Lehne’s. They own every casino, hell, they even own New Jersey. Their wealth is immense. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, “You’ve met them?” 

“Yeah, at gatherings where Dad allowed me to attend. Dick is a real big dick. I heard he moved to California, set up his own thing there. His father is a sleazeball.”

“I know,” Dean reaches over, takes her hand in his, “Just, don’t let your emotions overrule your head, okay? We’re there to make deals.”

“Ugh,” She groans with an eye roll.

“That’s the spirit,” He smirks and takes her hand, places it to his lips to kiss it quickly. 

She sighs, “What if he touches me?” 

“Who?”

“Zachariah, Dick. Both of them.”

Frowning, Dean looks over to her, “Have they done that before?”

“Yeah,”

Dean’s grip tightens around her hand. Jesus, he feels like punching something all of a sudden. 

His voice is deep, and he growls a little when he speaks again, “Does your father know that they have touched you inappropriately?” 

“He was right there.” 

Fucking Christ, now he really wants to shoot someone. His heart absolutely aches for what she had to go through growing up in this family. Growing up in a world reigned by men. It’s not a great environment for a girl to grow up.

“I’ll put them in their place if they do,” Dean says. It’s the only thing he can say, really. He can’t erase the past, but he can make sure that he’s here in the present.

“What if you aren’t there?”

Dean catches a glimpse of her little pout when the street light illuminates up the inside of the car.

“I’ll always be beside you.” He assures her, because yeah, after finding out that piece of information, he doesn’t really have the urge to leave her unattended at all.

“Promise?” 

He places another kiss on the back of her hand, “Promise.”

 *

 They arrive and Dean gets out of the car, walks around to open up the passenger side for her, and holds out a hand to help her out. 

“You know they have valet parking, right?” She asks before she takes his hand.

Dean shrugs, “I feel better knowing where my car is and can reach it at all times.”

She only frowns a little as she gets out.

“Remember, no weapons.” He says as she’s standing before him.

She waves her clutch around, “Duh, how can I fit that into my clutch?”

“Y/N,” Dean looks at her sternly. She thinks he’s joking but really, he’s not. It’s the rule. No fucking weapons when they come in peace. The Lehni’s have the same rule and it’s only fair that they play by the Roman’s rule, even though Dean hates the rule himself. He looks at her again, cocks one eyebrow because she’s still looking at him like she’s innocent. Dean hates that look because she’s not. She’s not innocent when she grins up at him while she licks at his asshole, she’s not innocent when she moans for him to fuck her harder. No, she’s not and he shouldn’t get weak, “Put your gun back. Now.”

Rolling her eyes back dramatically, she lets out a loud sigh. Dean has to hold back a chuckle. He watches her lift up her leather skirt, watches her take out her gun from her holster, and turns around to put it into the glove compartment of his car. 

“How did you know?” She whines when she turns back to him, bracing her arms across her chest and fucking pouts. 

“I’m just good like that,” He grins cockily before he weaves an arm around her waist to help steady her in her heels as he guides her towards the entrance of the casino.

 *

 They are led into the back of the casino, where there’s a strip club. Dean has since taken his arms from around her waist because it’s back to acting like they aren’t more than what they are. It pains him a little. Irritates him a whole lot. And from the way her body’s drawn to him, leaving him no space, he can see that she’s not entirely happy about it either. 

He leans closer, nose brushing against her temple, “Just this, okay? I’m right here.” 

She seems to nod. Dean can’t really see it because she’s following the employee who’s walking ahead and he waits a couple of seconds, walking a safe distance after her. 

The door to the strip club opens and loud music spills out of it. The room is dark, neon lights everywhere. It’s a tad over the top, he thinks. A little cheap, like who the hell uses neon lights nowadays anyway? It makes him feel like he’s in a dingy strip club and not a high-end one. 

Dean seems to be the only one who thinks it’s tacky because the club is packed. There are girls dancing on stage, girls grinding on men’s lap and he notices Y/N stalling by the door. She doesn’t look comfortable at all. 

He reaches out, touches her arm, “I’m going first,” He whispers, “Follow me,” 

She does, follows him and catches up to him pretty quickly. They are walking beside each other now and she takes glances left and right while they still follow the employee around. 

“You've been to a strip club before?” She asks underneath her breath. 

“Yeah,” He chuckles.

“Huh,” 

“Not lately, though.” Dean tries to talk himself out of his mistake, but he knows that he’ll probably get an earful when they’re alone. 

“Huh,”

She crosses her arms over her chest while they walk and he thinks it’s adorable how she’s jealous. It makes him a little proud to know that he’s not the only one feeling the things he does. 

The employee leads them along across the club, and there were a couple of girls who gave him the eye, some of them make themselves known by bumping into him. Dean tries his best not to look. Tries to fucking stay focused and walk on because he’s here to do his job and well, maybe it’s also because he doesn’t want to upset her. It’s not like he’s interested anyway. Not when the girl he actually wants sitting on his lap is her. 

Y/N only rolls her eyes as she sees him trailing along, and Dean smirks, which earned him another eye roll. He thinks it’s cute. She’d deny. 

They were led onto the second floor where there was a group of chairs sitting around a table. They spot Benny and his two right-hand men Ed and Nick. Nick has risen up in his ranks, as Dean can see. What Dean didn’t account for was to see Azazel sitting with them, his two bodyguards standing behind him. Women in skimpy bikinis are serving them drinks and there’s one sitting on Nick’s lap. 

“You didn’t tell me they’d all be here,” Y/N whispers through her gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t know about your dad, okay?” 

“But you knew about Benny?” 

“Yeah, from the phone call which you flashed me your fucking tits.” Dean hisses while they walk over slowly, so they can have this exchange of words. 

They both try to smirk while not letting people see that they are talking to each other.

“Oh, please,” She chuckles, “You love them.”

“I’d love them more if I wasn’t associating them with your dad,” He says and nods at the waitress who just walked past him. 

“I wish you would have told me at least about Benny.”

“Why? Would that have changed your mind?” 

“No, but I would have worn fucking panties.”

Dean stops mid-stride and she looks back at him with a grin. He watches her walk up to her people, greeting them and taking a seat next to her father. 

He wished that she would have kept that fucking detail to herself, though. Now he won’t be able to think of anything else than her sitting there with nothing underneath her fucking leather skirt. And she’s probably still dripping his cum while she looks her father straight in his eyes. 

This is pure torture and he’s been tested, he knows. 

This fucking girl.

  Y/N greets her dad with a kiss to his cheek and sits down, only nodding to the other men around. 

“I think you should leave,” She says to the girl in Nick’s lap, even before Dean sits down and the stripper looks at her in bewilderment. She smiles politely, “You heard me.” 

“I’ll tell her to leave whenever I want,” Nick snarls.

“And I’m telling her to leave now. It’s not a fucking party, Nick. We’re here for business.” She says firmly, stands by her point that nobody should listen in. They can’t be careful enough with possible snitches around. 

Dean sits down next to her, rights his suit jacket and nods towards Nick, “You heard the lady, man. Ditch the stripper,”

Nick gasps and looks over to Benny for some back up but Benny ignores him completely. Reluctantly, he pushes the stripper away and the girl stands up and struts away angrily. 

“Since when does she call the shots around here— Ow!” Nick yelps out and everyone knows that Benny kicked him under the table. 

God, her dad really works with an immature bunch of men, doesn’t he? 

Her dad leans towards her, whispering in her ear and she tunes out all the other ramblings she hears from Nick, “You’re doing good. It’s a whole new side I see. I like it. Did Dean explain to you and teach you what tonight’s all about?” 

“Yes, he did.” She tries to not think about other things he taught her about, the things that make her whimper in pleasure.

“Good,” Her dad nods.

Five minutes passed until a big bulky bodyguard walks in and calls for them. Zachariah is ready to meet. 

They have been led through another door where they step into an elevator. The eight of them, plus the bodyguard, stand close, chest to chest and she’s glad Nick and his filthy hands were far away from her, glad that it’s Dean who’s next to her, not so glad that her dad is on her other side of her. 

Y/N feels something warm between her legs, feels Dean’s cum trickling out thickly, has to squint her eyes and frowns a little. Of course Dean notices, looking down at her and raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything, can’t possibly talk when everyone can hear her.

When they arrive, everyone scrambles to get out of the confined space pretty quickly, but Dean stays.

He looks down with worried eyes, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, “Your cum dripped out. I might need some tissues.” 

“Jesus,” Dean mutters under his breath and shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator.

She can’t help but grin as she catches up with the lot. 

  Goddamnit, he’s really being tested right now. How can he sit still and concentrate when he knows she fucking leaks him while sitting next to her fucking father? 

She’s going to be the death of him, Dean just knows it. 

They arrive at a heavy door, which is held up by two other big bulky men and they step in, where Zachariah is already waiting, sitting at a big round table with his son. The table only fits six, so Azazel takes a seat, beckons for his daughter and Dean. Benny takes a seat too and Dean still hasn’t figured out why the hell the dude’s here.

“Do the two losers need to be here?” Zachariah asks into the round, pointing his chin towards Ed and Nick and all eyes are on Benny. 

“Uh, no, they don’t.” The man says and Dean has to hold himself back not to speak that Benny too, doesn’t have any business to be here. 

“Then they should leave. Go to the club. My treat.” Zachariah says with a sleazy grin. 

Y/N was right when she said that he’s a sleazeball. Dean has to smirk a little thinking back on how she said it. 

The two men’s faces light up and they immediately disappear, muttering something about a lapdance while Benny shakes his head. Benny’s probably questioning his entourage right now. A bunch of unprofessionals is what they are.

“Why are you here?” Zachariah asks and he stares at Y/N, his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Dean balls his hands into fists. God, he would just love to punch that fucker for looking at her like that. 

“She’s dipping her toes into the business, Zach,” Azazel says, and maybe Dean’s mistaken, but he can hear something in the tone of his voice. Something that says that Azazel’s a little proud.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be doing this,” Dick, who hasn’t said a word until now says, smirking a little, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Spending daddy’s cash or organizing some catering for parties?”

Dean’s lips are already parted, he already wanted to put Dick into place, but Y/N cuts him off.

“I actually do have better things to do, yes. But you wanted a meeting and that’s why we’re here. Can’t choose where you’re born into, can you, Dick? I bet you have better things to do in California as well.”

She says it with a calm voice, but he knows that she’s not. Her hands are shaking a little and he knows that she wanted to say so much more. She wanted to run her mouth, put Dick into place, but she chose to stay professional. He absolutely admires her. Dean lays a hand on her thigh under the table, some kind of a reassurance that he’s here. A way of telling her that she’s doing great so far.

Dick looks at her father, a frown on his face and Zach just clears his throat, “Right, so shall we? We want to get this over with before we go to the next part which is more relaxing to me.”

Dean doesn’t even know that there’s a next part, but he agrees that he too, wants to get this over with. 

“We’ve been in contact with Winchester before,” Zach nods at Dean and Dean nods back, “We have not one but three shipments on their way over from China. It’s the biggest deal we’ve ever made with the Chinese. All we need are some old warehouses where we can set up labs.”

“You don’t have enough of this in New Jersey?” Azazel asks and Dean knows why. Azazel is keen on dealing but not keen on cooking the drugs himself. 

Zach laughs heartily and elbows his son who starts to laugh too, “No we don’t. Not for that amount of goods,”

“How many are we talking about?” It’s Benny who asks. 

“About sixty to seventy warehouses.” 

Azazel whistles under his breath, “That’s a lot.” 

“It’s a lot of money we can make.” Dick chimes in.

The King clicks his tongue and exhales loudly, “What’s our cut?”

“We will provide the infrastructure, provide the cooks and the people manning the warehouse. We will pay you rent.” Dick says, and adds, “But we know that you don’t like to have your fingers deep in cooking so we’ll reward you for renting it out to us. 30% of the profit.”

“That’s how much?” It’s Y/N who asks. Dean’s a little proud, a little stunned too that she followed the conversation. Well, he knows that she’s not dumb but they don’t. Everyone is looking at her now and notice that she’s still here.

“Roughly about $600k a month,” Zach says proudly. 

“So, say, we let you rent seventy warehouses and you make $30k a month per warehouse. That would mean you make over $2m a month and will give us our $600k cut,” Y/N calculates it in her head, “How can you be so sure that you’re going to make that much money?”

“Girl can do some math, congratulations!” Zach shouts out in mockery and really, Dean has to fucking hold himself back, “We know this because it’s not the first time we’ve cooked, sweetheart.” 

“And why only 30% then? We have more risks, people are disposable, warehouses aren’t. If they find a warehouse, it will somehow lead back to us. We have more risk than you do, I’d think we need to raise the stake.” She drums on her notepad with her ballpoint pen while she cocks an eyebrow at Zach and Dick. 

Christ, Dean finds that side of her highly attractive. It turns him on when she has them by the balls. 

“What do you suggest?” Dick looks at her with a smug grin on his face. 

“50%,”

“What?” Zach spits and Dick has to calm his father down, laying a hand on Zach’s arm. 

“What’s your guarantee for us?” Dick asks as he feels his dad calming down enough. 

She looks into the round and Dean just knows that she has something in mind. He can see from the glint in her eyes, sees it in how her lips curve up into a smile. 

Tonight before they left, she wanted to look at the files and she sat there for an hour, looking through what little information Dean had, and when she finished, she started to smile and that’s when Dean knew that she wanted to lead the deal and he knew that he’d gladly let her. It’s also for her to show her dad that she’s capable, that maybe Azazel doesn’t have to tighten the leash around her as much as he had. That maybe, when this deal is a success, she’ll get to have more rights, gets to have her own car, gets to have a little freedom. Dean fully supports it.

Dean hands her the documents with a nod and she smiles at him. Her dad cocks an eyebrow while Benny frowns. They have no idea what’s going to hit them. Well, he doesn’t really know either, because she wouldn’t tell him, but he trusts her. 

Y/N rolls out the map of the city where she had circled warehouses they own in red circles. She stands up and braces her hands on the table, “As you can see, we own 120 warehouses and counting.”

“Did you know we own that much?” Azazel whispers to Dean behind her back and he shrugs. 

He did, Azazel doesn’t have to know it, though.

They sit in silence when Y/N continues, “My idea is to move production around. Never stay in one place for too long. That will be less suspicious for the neighborhood of the warehouses. That way, the chance of getting busted is as good as zero.” 

“But that’s a lot of moving infrastructure around.” Dick states.

“Would you rather you get busted?” Dean chimes in, he just had to, “When they get us, they’ll get you.”

“No, of course not.”

“Here’s my offer,” Y/N says and sits down, folds her arms on the table while she looks Zachariah straight in the eye, “120 warehouses to do as you please. Only seventy will be occupied at the same time, not more, not less. 50% of your profit.” 

They are all holding their breath as they watch Zach and Dick turn in their chairs to whisper something into each other's ears. Dean reaches over under the table again, squeezes her thighs and she looks at him, grins a cocky grin. Jesus, maybe he just fell in love a little more than he already had. 

Azazel leans back in his chair and over to his daughter, “You did your homework, princess. I’m proud.”

Her face beams.

It’s adorable really how she longs to be recognized. How she wished to be heard all those years. It’s really sad too, and there’s the thing Dean feels in his gut again that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to protect her at all cost and show her that she’s worth fucking everything. 

“Okay,” Zach says after clearing his throat, “Congratulations, Y/N, you got yourself a deal there. Our lawyers will be in contact.”

Her smile grows wide, and he can see that she’s all giddy. Dean really wants to take her into his arms but he knows that it’s uncalled for. That he shouldn’t act like he’s closer to her than what he is. 

Azazel nods his approval, smiling a little and it’s creepy. Dean had never seen the man smile before. 

“Great, onto the next part, the weapon deal, are you involved in that too?” Zach asks, and Dean knew that he missed something because he wasn’t involved either. 

“Nobody knows, because we just only talked about it briefly last time, Zach,” Azazel says. 

“Okay, then please everyone who’s not involved may leave the room.” Zachariah announces and Dean can only look at her. 

She has to leave and she knows it, even though he doesn’t want her to, but it’s not a made deal and she has no clue, she can’t stay, not when her dad is here, too. Subtly, she nods at him, as if she understands. 

“You can go to the club, Y/N, my treat!” Zach says, it’s more mockery than anything else and Dean really really wants to punch that fucking dude square in the face. 

 *

 The meeting is over quicker than he thought it would be. It’s just talks that bore him to death with weapon deals that aren’t even fixed yet. Dean really doesn’t know why she had to leave the room and he feels so fucking bad because he promised her that he’d be by her side. It’s a good thing that he had control over Dick and Zach, though. So at least they couldn’t have come on to her and touch her inappropriately. 

Everyone is making their way up the elevator, with Dick and Benny in deep conversation and Azazel and Zach. Apparently, Dick and Benny has some other issues to work through which Dean shouldn’t know about, but as hard as Dean tried to eavesdrop, he can’t make out a word because Zach was raving to Azazel about the casino and the strip club, inviting him to show him around because they have this new spa in the newly build wing where you can even gamble while relaxing. It’s ridiculous really. 

When they get out of the elevator, Azazel taps Dean on his shoulder, falls into step beside him, “Can you take my daughter home? I’ll probably stay the night and I don’t want her to wait and stay with me. I know she doesn’t like to be around them.” 

Dean knows who he means by them. So the little detail didn’t slip Azazel’s eyes and Dean’s actually quite glad that the man knows how uncomfortable the men are to his daughter.

“Of course,” Dean answers, has to fucking try not to show too much emotion. 

“Thanks,” The King nods, and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of approval. 

God, Dean doesn’t know if he’d still be thanking him if he knew that Dean’s already fucked his daughter not once but three times.

They make their way down the stairs to the club and already something seems off. The people are talking in hushed tones, the strippers aren’t stripping and the girls aren’t dancing.

Dean spots it then, spots her at the back, where Nick has pinned her against the wall, his hand around her throat. People around them watch in horror and Ed tries to talk Nick out of it, but the dude already lifts his hand and slaps her across the face. 

Chapter.12

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

Additional Notes:  I still have plenty to write for my other series  but this is the first chapter in the Modern! AU which demanded release today.

There was something about the sweet freedom of being away from the crowded streets of London that Colin loved.  While he wasn’t quite ready for another adventure around the world, he did didn’t particularly care to spend the summer in his bachelor flat alone or at the family home surrounded by his perfect and over achieving siblings with their perfect marriages and lives.  Instead he opted to head to the family summer home in the countryside and it was everything he wanted.

He had fond memories of his childhood here.  Life was far less complicated when he and his siblings had been on fairly even footing.  There was nothing to worry about how they were going to spend their afternoons – hikes, swimming or even the occasional croquet battle.   No one had the same leisure between careers, families or school.

He had spent the last several weeks savoring his solitude and the quiet of Aubrey Hall. There were no schedules, no commitments and most importantly not a single person to bother her outside of the occasion phone call or text from a member of his family. If they were being especially annoying, he would turn it to silence and send them to voicemail until he would inevitable cave and respond because he did actually care about what was going on in their lives.

After a late night of eating takeout and watching a movie on Netflix, he had decided to simply not set an alarm clock for the next day. No one was going to complain about him sleeping in, so he did so. By the time he decided to move from his bed, the sun was already up the sky.  He wouldn’t have forced himself up then if it weren’t for the persistent growl of his stomach demanding his attention.  That was nothing new though. He was always hungry.

He pushed himself up from the comfort of his bed, padding his way down to the kitchen.   If his family had been there, he would have had to make some effort at making himself presentable but by having the house to himself, he could do as he pleased and that included going straight from bed to the kitchen.

He grabbed a frying pan and put on a couple of eggs before popping some bread in a toaster.  He hummed absently to himself as he moved back to the pan, working on properly scrambling his eggs.  He couldn’t quite remember the song but it was probably something he’d heard during his last stint in London at some social engagement or another.

“Colin,”  a voice came from behind, making him nearly jump in surprise at the sudden invasion of privacy.  He spun prepared to fight off the offender with a specula despite the fact he knew the voice belonged to Eloise.

He very quickly remembered his state of undress when he caught sight of not only his younger sister but also Penelope.  His eyes widened slightly and he froze, his face growing red with embarrassment. 

Penelope wasn’t any less pink. Their eyes met and then quirkly averted.  While he quite enjoyed the company of his sister’s best friend this was probably not something that would be on their topics of conversation.  He mentally cursed as his mind processed that over the years, he’d randomly had less than innocent dreams about the girl and a few of them started with happenstance just like this but Eloise was never part of them.  Now was not the time to let his mind linger to far there.  He decided to focus on the Eloise part.  His sister was a safe person to focus on.

Speaking of which, Eloise seemed to be the only person capable of taking action. She covered her own eyes, making a face that made it known that the whole situation was the stuff of terrors before blindly reaching for an apron that hung unused, extending it to her brother.

“Christ,” she muttered. “Cover yourself.”

Colin for his part did use it to cover his front not that the damage wasn’t already done. There was literally no way to escape the situation unscathed and he had no doubt his entire family would know about it by the end of the day. He really needed to go put on some actual clothing but first, well he felt like throwing an absolute hissy fit about the fact Eloise thought she could just show up unannounced.

“Did you think to maybe call before just showing up?

“It’s the family home. I don’t need your permission to show up. Besides, what kind of deviant runs around in the nude?  We need to sanitize the entire house now.”

“People who think they have the place to themselves,” he gruffed.

It was Penelope who came out of her shellshock enough to point toward the forgotten frying pan. “Uh, I think your eggs are burning,” she managed, though honestly it was any wonder the words came out in order.

“Shit,”  Colin murmured starting to turn back to the stove but it was Eloise who stopped him mid-spin.

“No,” Eloise said, reaching for the spatula and taking over the egg prep.  “We’ll finish this. You go find some pants for fuck’s sake. Penelope doesn’t want to see your ass. Right, Pen?”

Penelope was noticeably quiet for a long moment but to her credit she did nod at what Eloise was suggesting. It was probably for the best if he did find clothing. Colin decided to save Penelope (and his sister) from further embarrassment.  He moved past, trying to get to the door. He paused and did a little spin trying to keep some modesty not that there were any mysteries to be had at this point.

“Yes, wouldn’t want to traumatize her like that,” he said toward his sister before nodding, smiling cheekily toward her counterpart.  “Honestly, you can stay but  Eloise is ruining the fun. Try and ditch her before I come back, yeah?”

“I resent that,” he heard Eloise complaining after he left the room.

--

Penelope hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another summer locked away with her miserable family so when Eloise had offered the concept of a girl trip to the Aubrey Hall she’d eagerly accepted. It was only half way through the drive that the other girl had mentioned that they’d have to share the house with her brother.

The mere mention of Colin was enough to make Penelope’s heart skip a beat. She had a crush on him for more years than she could count anymore but he’d never given her any indication that he considered her more than a friend.  He was quite charming though and he was always kind.  When he would come home from jet setting around the world, he always made time to chat or dance with her.

It did very little to discourage the crush.

She had thought that with time and distance it would fade but all it took was a mention or a sighting for the whole dreadful thing to come racing back.  How Eloise wasn’t aware of the crush at this point was beyond her but since it was a relatively mute point he didn’t push it. She and Colin were friends but that was all they would ever be.

The last thing she’d expected upon arrival was for her eyes to be assaulted by full-frontal Colin. It wasn’t something she’d be forgetting anytime soon either.

“I’m sorry about that, Pen!” Eloise told her after a moment as she trashed the now slightly burnt eggs and decisively started over making enough to where they could all eat. It had been a long trip after all. “This stuff happens when you have brothers. At least he was alone not that it makes it any less gross.”

Penelope didn’t want to even think about that him having someone else there.  She nodded though. Eloise did have a point that she could only assume was accurate. She’d never had brothers of her own but she’d heard enough complaints about the Bridgerton Boys that she felt as if the mental picture was accurate.

“It wasn’t that gross,” Pen said after a long minute. “I mean, objectively Colin isn’t hard on the eyes.”

“Well he’s not your brother,” Eloise said making a face that made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing how objectively not unattractive her best friend thought her brother was.  Maybe she didn’t know how far back it went and she wasn’t really aiming to ask questions about it but she was aware that Penelope had been into him at points.  She was also fairly sure at points her brother had probably been into her friend as well.  Nothing had come of it though and she definitely wasn’t going to try and encourage it lest it all go horribly bad.

Penelope didn’t push it for her part.

They began to work in silence creating a veritable breakfast feast for three and by the time Colin rejoined them wearing shorts a t-shirt they already had the plates made and juice poured.

“Well you might have invaded my very intimate breakfast this morning but I suppose I can forgive you for being angels who cook,” he said as she moved to take a seat at the table that was far too big for just three.  He did pause long enough to ruffle Eloise’s hair to mess with her before sitting in the end spot between the two girls.

“Someone has to be angelic when you’re clearly Satan incarnate,” Eloise responded stabbing a fork into her eggs and taking a bite.

“Only some of the time,” Colin confessed, laughing as he began to pick away at his plate. He offered a light smile toward their guest.  “Let’s be real, Pen is the only angel at this table. Us Bridgerton come from a long line of demons.”

Eloise made a fake gagging noise at that.

“That actually explains a lot,”  Penelope said after a long moment.

That managed to grab both of their attention, waiting to hear what she might have to say about demons and Bridgerton family members.

“I honestly believe you could be an incubus,” she said after a long moment, eyes directed toward Colin.

Colin nearly choked on a sausage at that, he recovered quickly though and fell into a fit on laughter.  Penelope always had been witty and the fact that she thought that he could be the incubus of the family was laughable. He wasn’t the person that most people thought him to be.  Of course, he was charming and could flirt with anyone but that didn’t mean he actually got anywhere. He couldn’t very well have his older brothers judging him for that though so he let people believe what they wanted to and didn’t go out of his way to correct them.

“You can’t just go around telling people that I’m a sex demon, Pen,” he said conspiratorially barely able to keep a straight face. “I mean, what I do in your dreams is between me and you.  Not everyone gets to survive with their soul intact.”

“You better not be doing anything to her in her dreams or your own,” Eloise said, kicking him in the shin. “My friend is off-limits.”

Colin frowned, reaching down to rub his shin.  He wanted to tell Eloise to mind her own business but before he could Penelope seemed to take it upon herself to handle that.

“Little late for that,” Penelope said knowing that by saying so she was declaring sides in this sibling battle.  Colin couldn’t be more smug about it either. Eloise looked as if she could kill them both.

“I’ll try to behave moving forward but I do hope it was as good for you as it was good for me,”  he said, though from the shit-eating grin on his face it was pretty clear that he wasn’t sorry at all.  Especially when his gaze moved from Penelope back to Eloise.  “Sorry El, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Of course not,”  Eloise said, shaking her head.

If this was how the summer was going to go, it was going to be a long one.

[skinks]

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

[juvian]

A turn of events - Chapter 6

Header cr.

Summary : Korimi Lockser always been one of the best students, but one day when her crush decide to come visit his friends more often, including her sister. She decide do to the dumbest thing she’s done in her life… fake being stupid to get is attention.

Disclaimer : Fairy tail belong to Hiro Mashima !

Characters : Korimi Lockser (Oc), Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Juvia Lockser, Lyon Vastia.

Shipping(s) : Oc X Lyon Vastia.

Genre : High school au, modern au, romance and humour.

Words : 1779

Chapters : Masterlist // Chapter 5 // Chapter 7

Chapter 6

I think studying with the boys together is the worst thing.

Me, having to explain everything to Sting,  because he is stupid. While he’s whining about the fact that Rogue didn’t want us to stop and take a break until he understand the fucking thing.

Yeah studying with them is great…

“I need a break please. “Sting whined, again. “Not only because I still don’t understand, but I really have to pee guys.

“Arg... Go! But after that you are not sleeping until you understand the damn thing!” 

Sting thanked me and ran to the bathroom, leaving me alone with his brother. I started to read the next math problem we are trying to learn, when I felt my phone vibrate. I took it and saw that an unknown number had sent me a text.

“« It’s Lyon, your sister gave me your number, I was at your home today, but you weren’t there. She said you must be with friends, we should text each other so we know when the other is gonna be busy hahaha :). »”

Oh. My. God… He was really home! And I missed him. I wanted to cry… I could have been studying with him and not with the idiot and Rogue! Sorry Rogue… Oh I should answer!

“« I am so sorry Lyon, I didn’t think you would come again, I feel bad :/ I am actually studying with friends… Tell me when you want to come again, I’ll be there!”

“« it’s okay, don’t feel bad you didn’t know :) I’ll come tomorrow»”

I probably look stupid right now, with this big stupid ass smile plastered on my face right. At least only Rogue is here with me.

“It’s Lyon?” He said, coldly, which surprised me. 

“Umm… Yeah, Ju gave him my number, he came home and I wasn’t there so he said to text him if I am going somewhere so he doesn't come over for nothing.”

“So he is saying that you’re wasting his time.”

“He didn’t say that, he is really kind for giving me his time! But if I am not there it’s useless he can do something else instead, he is super busy with university too.”

“Ummm… So… Are you going to ask him to come with you to prom?”

“Ummm… I don’t think so, why would he come with me to prom?” I said, my cheeks turning red.

I mean why would he come with a kid like me to prom and how could I ask him. I would probably froze and say some stupid shit.

“Ok.”

“Why are you asking?”

“I always thought we would go together, like everybody.”

Ah shit… Do I really have to deal with this… I don’t want to make him sad.

“Well, if you want us to go together, I don’t care, it’s just prom, I’ll have  other occasions to be with him, you are more important to be honest and it’s your prom too.”

“You should try, I don’t wanna get between you and the love of your life.”

I didn’t know what to answer so I just shut my mouth. It was silent for some minutes until Sting opened the door and joined us on the floor where we were seated.

“Did you miss me?”

“No.”  Rogue said, not looking up from his notebook.

God I love him.

“Actually, I couldn’t wait for you to come back.”

Sting looked at me with the most confused face ever and Rogue was probably wondering why the fuck I was saying that.

“Ah yeah?” I could see the scared look on his face.

“Yeah, Lyon texted me, he was home today. SO I have to kill you because it was your idea that I come here.”

“What wait!”

Before he said something else I jumped on him and started to hit him while Rogue watched us desperately.

***

“Juvia, I’m back from school!” I yelled, as I put my bad on the floor.

“Kori-Chan!”  My sister yelled, as I saw her get up from the couch and she came to hug me. “How was school?”

“It was great, I had my grade for my history exam and I had 96%”

“That’s amazing Kori-Chan! You are so intelligent Juvia is so proud of you.”

“Thanks Ju.” I said, laughing.

“That’s why you should explain to me why you need Lyon’s help in math?”  She asked, with a knowing look.

“Please don’t judge me! You are not one to Judge Juvia Lockser.”

“Juvia is not judging you! She would never dare to do it! Juvia is just wondering why you’re using the bad grade card and not your natural charm.”

“I don’t know, it’s the first thing that came to my mind, I am so much younger than him so I don't know how to act around him and make him see that I am not just your little sister.”

“Juvia is not the best example for having a guy's attention, but she thinks Kori-Chan should only be herself, he’s not that much older and you’re mature for your age.”

“If you said so…” I said, not convinced, what I was doing now was far from mature. “He said he’ll come, he is not here?”

I put my bag in the hallway and checked my phone to see if he sent a  text, but no, it means he’ll come no? I must be late, that's it. I was going to sit on the couch when someone rang the bell. It must be him!!! 

“Lyon! How are you?”

“Good and you? Sorry I am a little late, I had to do something.”

“I am doing great thank you and it’s okay Kori-Chan arrived only 5 minutes ago.

My sister let him enter and I ran to the door before he could see me and greet him. Subtle much Korimi.

“Hi Lyon!”

“Hi Kori, are you ready for today?”

“Always! I mean… I am a studious girl already so if I can finally understand the only thing that messes with my grade then I am ready for it!”

“I understood you don’t have to explain yourself.” He laughed and my heart melted.

“You should work in the kitchen.” My sister said. “You must not have enough places on the living room table.”

“You are right it was a little bit cramped.” He laughed, again.

Stop laughing, don’t do this please my heart, it won’t take it. 

***

“So your exams are next week right?” Lyon asked, while we were taking our first little break of the day.

“Yes and after  I am finally done with high school!”

“You can wait?” He asked and I nod. “You don’t like school?”

“Ah no, I like school, I like learning things, school as students and teachers though… sometimes it gets really annoying.”

“I see.” He laughed. “I was like that too, I mean I was one of the best students and pretty much everyone was jealous of me, my face didn’t help this. So I didn’t really care about the other students and the teachers, except my friends.

Okay he is beautiful and really intelligent and I love him, but modesty is not his thing at all.

“Do you think a week is enough for you to understand everything?” He continued.

“Umm, yeah.” I said. “I mean, I actually don’t have a bad grade? I understand so much more, you help a lot thank you, but I still need you a lot too.” I laughed, trying to sound as believable as possible. 

“I”ll help you as long as you want me to.” He smiled and I almost cried, he is beautiful when he smile god. “And if I am not here you probably have someone to help you a little.”

“Yes, but no one is as good as you.” I said, winking.

“I like you.” He said, laughing and I died. “We should continue now.”

We continued to look at the textbook he brought from his home and work on some examples. I was starting to put more details and the right explanations to show some amelioration in my math, but still wrote some mistakes in them. Sometimes when it was an easier question I gave the right answer and if you saw the smile and the proud look on his face, I was melting. But that smile also made me a little guilty, I was lying to him to have his attention. It was not right, I was starting to think he may hate me if I tell him later.

“What’s with the sad face Kori? Is something wrong?” He asked worryingly and the guilt grew even more.

“No it’s okay, just thinking about the end of my high school year, it still makes me sad and a little nervous, the exam, prom and some of my friends going their own ways, which means I’m probably going to see them less and less.

“It’s okay, you’ll always find a way to see them. I see my best friend once a year, but we are still really good friends like the first time we saw her.” He said, passing an arm on my shoulder and hugging me lightly, it was really hard not to pass out on the spot. “Sherry even got married! It’s life we can’t do anything about it but we can make it work, promise you.” 

“Yeah, I know.” I said, smiling.

“So prom? When is it? You have a date?” He asked, taking off his arm from my shoulder. No come back ! 

“Umm… last day of school, well we don’t have exams on this day, but yeah. No I don’t… Well yes I have a date, Rogue and I always do everything together and everyone’s sure we will go together so nobody will dare to ask me.” I said, laughing awkwardly.

“He didn’t ask you? He should ask you anyway, doing it the proper way.” He smiled. “If he doesn't I’ll do it, he said, probably joking but OH MY GOD MY HEART!

“What?” I asked, surprised, trying to not show my heart was read to get out of my chest at any second.

“I am joking, I am not going to a high school prom, It'll be weird don’t you think?” He said, laughing.

“Hahaha yeah.” I said, trying to laugh but it ended up sounding fake. I hope he didn’t notice.

I can forget asking him and anyway I can’t do this to Rogue. He wants us to go together, so we'll go together! I don’t care about Lyon and I can’t let down my best friend like this!

“Well we should finish this chapter before dinner.” He smiled and I agreed. 

Korimi now concentrate!

[pokenimagines]

Im gonna ask for one of my favorite cliches of all time, could you hcs for guzma going to see his S/O after he gets into a fight, they patch up his wounds n kiss them all better while lowkey chewing him out for being an idiot, maybe leads to nsfw?

Man, I love that cliche, though, like I feel. Also, this is slightly NSFW territory, but not really at the same time. I put the warning and tag on it just in case, though. Like I said, it doesn’t get into detail, but it’s implied.

Discord - Request Info

Warning: This is NSFW, so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

Guzma x Reader: Brawl

TW: Guzma got slightly filleted by a knife, and there’s some blood while he’s patched up.

“Ow.” Guzma hissed under his breath while you continued spraying some anti-bacterial spray on the cut on his cheek. He let out another hiss as he could feel you putting the bandage right over it, putting just slightly too much pressure on the new wound.

“Oh, hush now, stop being such a baby.” You chided, moving onto the cut on his arm. He shot a glare at you, but it wasn’t like it was going to do anything. He should know that you weren’t scared of him, no matter how imposing he might seem to others. Not to mention him being a total wimp while you tried to patch him up definitely wasn’t helping his cause of being intimidating.

“I’m not, you’re just being fuckin rough with me.” Guzma shot back, and you snickered, covering your mouth as you went to start cleaning his other cut.

“Well, let this serve as a reminder to not get into fights with people who have knives.” You explained to him, and he rolled his eyes as he shrugged his shoulder. In all honesty, the person he fought had done is dirty, since he had a weapon on him. If not for Guzma’s Golisopod literally breaking out of its Pokeball to defend him, ya boy probably would’ve been way worse for wear.

“Not my fault, he had a knife hidden on him. Still beat him down.” You sighed, moving to the next cut. You couldn’t actually see it all too well, but the tear in the fabric and the blood was an indicator that he had been injured.

“Take off your pants so I can check the cut on your leg.” You said, waiting for him. Guzma actually managed to blush a bit, which was kind of hilarious as he was always the tough guy. You just assumed he could have some modesty every now and then. He grumbled while he shucked his pants off, and right on his thigh was a nice gash.

“I think this one might need stitches…” You murmured, looking at it and debating. You had some items that were kind of like fake stitches for this situation, but you had never used them before. You were sure they’d be useful, but it still worried you that the cut was that bad. Not to mention, he had been able to walk all the way to the base.

“I don’t need fuckin stitches.” Guzma groaned as you stood up and got a new thing of warm water and some towels, along with your fake stitches. You began wiping all the blood that trailed down his leg, grimacing as you could see the cut. You were pretty fast in patching him up, and he held up his leg a bit while you wrapped the gauze around it. After that was done, you did a final inspection to make sure he was okay before looking at him.

“You need to be more careful, it worries me seeing you like this.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arm instinctively went around your waist as you nuzzled into the side of his neck. You could feel his sigh in content while you laid a small kiss on him before looking him in the eyes.

“Well, don’t. I can handle myself.” He grumbled, and you gave him a small pout before moving to kiss him on the lips. He was pretty fast in returning it, making you smile into the kiss. You knew Guzma was going to continue being reckless, but at least you’d be there to patch him up after.

“How about I made it up to ya?” Guzma offered, his hand slipping a bit lower until it was on your ass, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Despite being so banged up, he was still ready to go. It was almost impressive how stupid he could be at times.

“I think you need to rest.” You murmured against his lips before going in once more for a chaste kiss. Guzma had other plans as his free hand snaked its way behind your head and held you there. He bit at your bottom lip, and you internally rolled your eyes while just going with it.

It didn’t take long for his kiss to turn into a heated make-out session, the hand not on your head was now tugging at the hem of your pants, wanting them to be gone already. You roughly bit at his lip, making him falter just enough for you to break away. Your face was flush, and no doubt, your lips were a bit swollen.

“I got too much energy to rest, why don’t you help me get rid of some of it.” Guzma kept pressing, and despite your better judgment, you gave in. He probably should be resting, but when he looked at you like that…well, you might as well melt.

“Fine, but you’re resting afterward…and I’m on top today.” You said, using his chest down, so he fell back onto the bed with a grunt. Guess there was a small silver lining to him getting into some fights.

[allmyspideys]

No Plan (mob!AU h.o)

Summary: You and Harrison are from rival mobs, but the feelings are undeniable

Warnings: a little smutty, fake hatred, fluff in moments

Words: 1.7+

A/N: this is literally romeo and juliet but mob style. there's some weird tense stuff going on so... lmk if it's hard to understand!! I’m recently just disappointed in my writing so any love is much appreciated! I was listening to No Plan and fun fact! Dr. Mack in the song is a professor at my school

Messy kisses. Smeared lipstick. Hands gripping your thighs. Fingernails running down his back in ecstasy. Bruises and hickies. Merciless teasing. A painfully slow rhythm. Finally coming undone.

You woke up with a start, worried about sleeping in too late. You looked at the clock and breathed a sigh of relief.

I have an hour before I need to leave.

You rolled over to look at the man sleeping soundly next to you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was really cute when he slept. The smug look that usually resided on his face was gone and he looked truly kind. That was not something many people could say about Harrison Osterfield.

His hair was disheveled, but not only from sleeping. The image of your fingers tugging on his soft hair flooded your memory. Your eyes trailed down to his neck and landed on the large purple bruise. Your mind drifted back fully to the actions of the night before and you knew that there were finger scratches covering his back too. You lifted up the covers a little to look at your hips, and just as you suspected those were a bit bruised too. You had a deal with Harrison; he could mark you anywhere you could easily cover. You both liked to leave marks, memories, of your time together, but if he went into a meeting with hickies no one would bat an eye, however, if you did, it'd be game over.

Harrison's blue eyes slowly peeled opened, secretly admiring you as much as you were admiring him. He'd never tell you, but Harrison thought the way your face got all puffy after sleeping was adorable.

"Watching me sleep, darling?"

You scoffed, "You wish Osterfield".

You took a moment longer to relish in the smells of Harrison's bed. It was just so him: a touch musky, but mainly sweet, and a bit of his cologne that always lingered on his skin. The smell always calmed you. It was like being engulfed in a Harrison Hug. But those feelings weren't allowed… at least not out loud.

"I should go," you crawled of bed and began collecting your clothes scattered around the room, "try not to dream of me all day". You gave Harrison a wink and a smirk, fully knowing that you'd tease him all day long. Whenever no one was looking you’d text him things you knew would frustrate him. I can’t stop thinking about the way your fingers wrapped around my wrists as you pounded into me… everything else could use a little practice though *kiss emoji*.

"Try to control yourself this time, darling. I know it's hard for you," Harrison said as he threw your shirt to you.

That is how it always went. One of you would text the other to come over and you would, no questions asked. It was a silent agreement to be there for the other, in any form of the body. Sometimes you cuddled or talked, but mostly it was sex: raw, hot, and rough. Anything to get your mind off of the things you'd seen or done that day.

You and Harrison were both slowly changing the way things were done. You were the daughter of the head of your mob and Harrison was the cousin of his, so you both had some sway. Long ago your families had a falling out, so even though there was little interaction between the families, the hatred was still there. At first, you thought Harrison was only sleeping with you for intel, but that visceral attraction to Harrison kept pulling you back, and frankly, you didn't care if he was getting intel because you were getting something much, much better from him.

It all started with a simple side comment, “You must have good taste”. When you had first come into the bar, you’d noticed a man, a confident man or perhaps a cocky man, but either way, you’d noticed, and he had too. You made eye contact with his shockingly blue eyes, looked him up and down, smirked, and turned away. It always worked, and you were right. The look away irked the man to no end, pulling him into you. 

You had to admit his first words to you surprised you. Most of the time it was “Hey baby” or worse “Let’s get out of here”, as if any work to get you had been done, but you’d never heard that one before. 

“Excuse me?” Once again, you couldn’t pull yourself from his eyes. It was like there was a force luring you to entertain his advances, after all he had already surprised you once. 

“You must have good taste,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You felt his hot breath and tingles shot down your spine, tickling something inside of you.

“And why is that?” you retorted.

“Because you picked me.”

“Oh,” you chuckled. Of course! He is a pompous ass, you thought. “How did I know you were going to say that? You wear the big ego well,” you patted his chest. Each tap filled with annoyance, but you were enjoying the banter.

“There’s no point in false modesty,” he placed his hand on top of yours, thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. 

Quickly you jerked your hand away from his, “It’s not a question of modesty, it's a lack of humility”. He was only getting you more and more heated, yet you couldn’t pull yourself away. He annoyed you, but you loved it. He took a step closer to you and you could feel his breath against your face. It pleased you to know he was getting heated too, and more so, that you were the cause of it.

“That’s the same thing, Darling,” his face was a mere inches from yours and you could feel that heat, that exasperation, that tension on your lips, pushing you forward.

“Modesty is behavior. Humility is ego, but I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand that.”

That quip finally broke it. You felt his arms wrap tight around your waist and lift you, as your fingers settled into his hair on the back of his neck and pulled his lips against yours, finally getting him to shut up. The electrifying feeling that flowed from your lips and through your body was like crackles breaking that tension, but exciting you for more. You broke the kiss slightly to tug at his bottom lip, rolling it between your teeth, eliciting a moan from the man. 

“You annoy me,” you said as he set you down, feeling the tension returning.

“Perfect.” You felt the heat from his large hands on your waist radiate through you and your mind drifted to other places those hands would be more useful. 

“Come home with me?” he whispered in your ear.

Maybe it was because of all that tension or maybe it was because this man was the first to ask you, instead of commanding you, to come home with him, but something in you said, “Yes”.

“I’m Harrison Osterfield,” he said with his calloused hand outstretched.

It took you a second to realize that name, but it was the one thing your dad forbade you from doing. “Never date an Osterfield, Y/N. Never an Osterfield.” It all made sense to you. The cocky air, the nice suit that clung to his body in all the right ways, the blue eyes, the tension.

You chuckled, grabbing his hand, “Osterfield… I’m Y/N L/N”.

Harrison’s eyes went wide for a second, “L/N,” he smirked, “this will be fun”. 

At some point it changed from actual annoyance and irritation to more of a playful dislike. Harrison knew how to push your buttons and he loved doing so.

Harrison cocked an eyebrow at you as you pulled on your pants.

"Enjoying the show?" you quipped.

"Doesn't look much like a show to me," he said with a cheeky smile.

You thought back to the first time you slept over. You were already seeing each other a few times a week for a rendezvous and a quickie. You'd meet up, already starting to unbuckle your pants before you even got in the room.

"Couldn't keep away?" Haz would say with that glint in his eye that still drives you crazy.

"You disgust me," you'd say, but still pulling at his shirt, just wanting to feel his body heat against yours.

Harrison's fingers would press into your thighs and you'd bury your head in his neck and rake your teeth against his neck, something that still drove him wild.

"You can't even fuck right," you say, hands pressed firmly against the wall behind you. You'd do anything to get Harrison frustrated. It was hot and it was messy, but he was the only one that could do you right.

You were laying against Harrison's chest, both still sweaty and breathing heavy, but it was comfortable. That was the first time you noticed his cologne.

"Did you just sniff me," Harrison asked with a light chuckle.

You blushed and buried your head into his shoulder, "I like this cologne. Keep it".

After that Harrison wore it everyday. While you were beginning to fall asleep, something you'd never done before, but it was a particularly late rendezvous, Harrison perked up.

"You're the only person I do this with," you could hear the hesitation in Haz's voice.

"What?" you raised your head.

"I don't- I mean I'm not sleeping around.. With anyone other than you," it was the most unsure you'd ever seen him, "Just in case you wanted to know".

"I'm not either," you chuckled.

You shook the memories out of your head and focused back on the shirtless boy in bed, still smirking at you.

"I don't like you," your cheeky smile said differently.

"I don't either," Harrison wore the same smile as you, "so I'll see you tonight?"

You turned to walk out the bedroom but looked over your shoulder, getting one last look of the hickies you'd left.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" you gave Haz a wink.

"So that's a yes?" Harrison cooly responded.

With only a crack in the door between you and a Harrison, you smiled, "Yes".

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

"Come on, don't be mad," Rise insisted for the hundredth time as they waited for the train to come through. They had been there for a few minutes, bags in hands and feet impatient. At least they a few CDs apiece, and a poster that Rise hoped would do for Chie's gift, even though it was Bruce Lee's Enter The Dragon instead of Sonny-Sammy-whoever.

"Why not? My feelings are just as valid as yours."

"And it wasn't my fault! Like, you heard me try to tell him I didn't want any attention!"

"False modesty. I mean, I bet you say shit like that all the time, just so you look like a precious little princess."

The train going the opposite way whipped past, and she watched Ai's pink dress flutter for a moment until the din died down. Then she said in a quiet voice, "You want to be left alone? I will leave you alone. I just don't think that's what you really want."

"You were going to ditch me anyway. What does Risette want with some small-town teen queen when she's Japan's teen queen? It would happen sooner or later."

"Do you want me to apologise for your friend getting star-struck?"

"He was my friend first. And I mean, not that we're close, just that he's someone I-"

"Because I won't."

Ai blinked a couple of times before turning to look at her properly. "What did you just say?"

"I'm not going to apologise," Rise repeated firmly, her own features severe and intense now. "Remember me telling you I didn't even submit my first idol contest application myself? I never asked for all this. I have enjoyed it, sure — who wouldn't? But it's not 'my fault' people go crazy for celebs. Besides, I even tried to tell that guy not to make a big deal, to just let me hang out with my friend, and he kept fangirling anyway. My input clearly doesn't matter, so I am taking zero responsibility for him being an otaku. Do you understand?"

The other girl looked completely thunderstruck. In fact, she had no words. The train arrived shortly afterward, and they both got on without speaking, grasping for overhead straps as the doors slid shut.

It wasn't until they got off at the Yasoinaba station and Rise had started striding for the steps, feeling like a failure, that she felt her hand grasped from behind. She turned to slap whatever creep had grabbed her, but the creep was Ai, so she decided not to hit her. Yet.

"What?" No answer. Ai was too busy staring down at the space between their shoes. "Come on, it's getting late… I can still work a shift at Marukyu if you let me g-"

"I'm sorry!" she burst out, then cleared her throat to try again. "I apologise, Rise."

"What?"

"Shut up, don't make me say it again. I overreacted and I already feel stupid."

Cranking up the bubbliness to eleven, she gushed, "Oh noooo, I don't think I heard you at aaaaalllllll. What was that, Ebi-chaaaan?"

"Sh-shut UP!"

"Do you wuv meeeeee?" This time, Ai did yank her hand away and begin to stomp off down the steps, leaving a giggling Rise to chase after her.

"Like you said, have fun at Marukyu."

"You were a meanie," she told her, still laughing just a little. "I think I get to tease you a little."

"I don't like it. And I have explained why."

"Yeah. Your grade school classmates weren't teasing you, though. They were mocking you."

"Same fucking difference."

Jogging to walk side-by-side with her, despite Ai occasionally picking up speed to try and outstrip the idol, she went on, "Not really. Friends tease. Bullies mock… or sometimes hurt you physically. Did you ever get hurt like that?"

"Well… yeah, I did. But it's been a while. I mean, certainly not since elementary."

"Well that's good. I'll try not to tease you too much, but like, it's not going to work if I can't tease you. Because friends do that, and leaving that out would make this kinda fake. Right?"

Ai raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her. "I… do not follow that logic at all. You're weird."

"I'm not," she giggled, leaning down to smile up at her. "C'mon, it's fun. And I promise-promise I'll try to keep an eye on it so I don't make you feel really bad, and you might even get used to it. And that might help you with that 'everybody's tone is mocking' thing you feel."

"So let me get this straight. You think by teasing me, you're doing me a favour by desensitising me to people being jerks?"

"Right!"

"And that's 'friendship'? Putting me through that gauntlet?"

"Yup! I'm pretty great, right? My generosity is limitless!"

Finally, the grumpy girl laughed as they got to the bus stop, plopping down on the bench with their bags next to their feet. "Whatever. You're insane."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm amazing and it just looks insane."

"Two sides of the same coin."

"So… I didn't wanna ask in front of 'the expert', but what was all that in the CD store? You two were off in your own little world there."

Ai's face was already flushed from being annoyed earlier, and all that power-walking. But it definitely didn't get any less rosy as she fidgeted, playing with the hem of her dress. "That's… it's stupid."

"Might be. But we're friends, we have to share stupid interests and stuff."

"You're really starting to be a pain with this 'friend' thing all the time." But Rise was patient. And eventually… "It's… something left over from my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yes. She, um, she used to really love those old city pop singers; had so many records. Her fave was Mariya Takeuchi; just had really fond memories from her childhood, and she used to play them for me all the time."

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. "Your mom… is she, u-um…?"

"Hm? No, she's alive. Probably." Ai looked extremely conflicted for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. "She moved out at the beginning of last year."

"Moved out? Like… a divorce?"

"Not officially. Yet. But it seems like it's going to be a matter of time." When Rise opened her mouth to reply, she was quick to cut her off. "Look. After my dad got rich overnight, I wasn't the only one who changed. We all did. But my mother seemed to resent it, even though we were all different afterward — including her hypocritical ass. Said she couldn't stay in the house with her b- with us, because we were like strangers now. And I…"

Rise gave her a few seconds to finish the thought. When she didn't, she reached over with her free hand to take up Ai's in a gentle grip. That seemed to encourage her to continue.

"It's my fault. For changing too much, for no longer being the child she raised. And I got so angry with her, said a lot of things I can never take back… I drove her away. Like I tried to do to you. So you see? Might as well ditch me now before I treat you like shit one day."

As if she hadn't already. But saying that was not productive, so she focused on the subject at hand. "Hey… I don't think that's right." When the other girl began to sigh, she pushed on, "No, listen. She's your mom, right? She's the adult — her and your dad, I mean. Of course if she's telling you she doesn't like how you have changed because you're growing up, like, you're gonna get mad. She's supposed to be the one who can figure out you're just mad and you'll get over it, or whatever."

"That sounds great, but I don't think it works that way in the real world."

"Maybe not this time, but it's how it's supposed to work. So don't go around hating on yourself for something she needed to do better."

Finally seeming to realize her hand was being held, she turned to blink at her new friend, brow furrowed. "I don't… know… I guess I wasn't expecting you to be this… genuinely…"

"Awesome?" she attempted with a small smile as the bus arrived. "Pretty? Hot as hell?"

"Nice. Even to a huge bitch like me."

Once they had both paid their fare and chosen a seat in the back, Rise whispered, "Listen. We're going to have to get used to each other. But we should probably get to know each other if we really want a shot at that." She chewed on her thoughts for a moment as they rode into Inaba. "Mmmm, did you know I actually really like helping out at Marukyu?"

"Hadn't really thought about it." After a second, she relented, "Okay, I guess I thought it was just some kind of PR stunt. But don't read too much into that."

"You're fine," she giggled as she snaked her arm around Ebihara's elbow, ignoring the fresh twitch it earned her. "But yeah, it's probably weird, but I actually really enjoy frying up the ganmodoki myself. Getting my hands dirty, helping clean up, straighten up, checking on my grandma…"

Though Ai had been ramrod straight like a tin soldier ever since they linked arms, she slowly began to relax the more she listened to Rise. "Well yeah, I guess I get that. She's family and you probably missed her while you were off dazzling the world."

"The world? Please. I mean, I do have a handful of fans in Korea and China, but none any further than that. I'm not that special."

"You are. They just can't see it past the language barrier."

"Awwwww…"

"I regret everything," she grumbled. But of course, Rise was still giggling as they slipped off the bus and onto the sidewalk, a lot closer to their sleepy little city.

"Hey, can I come over and listen to my CD at your place? I don't have a CD player anymore."

"Then… why did you buy- never mind. You probably have even more disposable income than I do."

Rolling her eyes, she bumped Ai just enough so that they both stumbled the tiniest bit. "Dork! I only accepted because he was so happy to be doing us a favor. And I figured hey, I might as well pick something I wanted instead of just a couple of random CDs I didn't care about. These are souvenirs now."

"Ah yes. Souvenirs of the time you had to put up with a raging harpy."

"Wow! Like, you really only have two modes, don't you? 'Meanie' and 'Depression Fest 2012'."

But apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Rise was just trying to tease like she always did; it was part of her job. The more she teased, the more she played, the more fun people had. The more fun they had, the better mood they were in. The better their mood, the more likely they were to capitulate to whatever the terms were — those of her manager, or herself. And it had all worked out, because she wanted friends so badly and everyone around seemed to become her friend when she treated them that way. Even if the friendships didn't last.

But this time, it silenced Ai so completely that she found herself checking on her every few seconds as they walked along. What did she say? Had it really been that much worse than anything else so far? Eventually, she wound up stopping to pull her into a gentle hug.

"God… it's not- you don't have to do that."

"I'm sorry. You know I'm playing with you, right? Just playing! But if I'm really hurting you…"

Ai shook her head and dropped her bags so she could cling to her, burying her face in those mauve locks. "Shhh, you're fine. I… you don't have to do this. Any of it. But you're not screwing up as bad as you think you are, I'm just a bitch. Sorry for all these constant reminders."

"It's okay." Especially because Ai was so warm. This hug nearly undid all of the pain and strife they had put each other through over the course of a scant few total hours they had spent in each other's company.

And Rise didn't seem to be the only one who thought as much. Those arms tightened on her back, practically clinging to her as they soaked up each other's warmth. Why did this feel so right? They were all wrong for each other as friends, if all their bickering was any indication, yet a simple hug was like a dream come true. Ai smelled so good, expensive perfume mingling with soft skin just on the other side of that dress.

Even though the lace on Ai's choker was tickling her nose. Eventually, that made it twitch, and then she giggled as she shivered in an attempt to suppress a reaction.

"What?" Ai asked, confused.

"The lace tickled. You wear that thing all the time and I don't know why." It prompted a quiet sigh from the taller girl, so Rise skipped backward, hands in the small of her back. Maintaining a high energy level for their day might distract her from whatever demons she was battling internally. "C'mon! I'll race you to Junes!"

"Wha- hey, wait a minute, what about our bags? You don't expect me to carry all this!"

Maybe part of her motivation for taking off running and leaving Ai to carry all of their purchases was to instill a little more humility in the prissy girl. Or maybe she just wanted to do something carefree. Either way, her friend did scoop up the bags before taking off running after her.

                                                    ~ o ~

"NOOOOO, give it back!"

"We've had enough of this weird thing!" Chie cackled as she ran away with Teddie's bear mascot head, holding it aloft while the blond boy himself chased after her. Rise leaned back in the food court chair and laughed her head off. Yes, she knew the head meant a lot more to him than just part of some costume; they all knew that, except for Ebihara. But he had been up to his usual mischief, saying he was going to "score" with Yukiko simply because she let him have some of her french fries. He obviously spent a little too much time listening to Yosuke.

"You guys are too much," Kanji sighed, face-palming as he leaned heavily against the table. But he didn't do anything to stop Chie and Yosuke throwing it back and forth, either.

"I have to say, this is a bizarre group of people to have come together," Ai commented as she sipped at her smoothie. Maybe she still wasn't ordering a ton of junk food, but she had insisted that a smoothie was really "cheating on her diet" considering that before she had met Narukami, she probably would have ordered a diet soda and no more. Their bags were stashed under their chairs until they headed home later — except for the poster. That was safely tucked beneath Yukiko's chair, once all the excessive bowing and thanking was over with, and Rise had refused to accept any money from her. She was just happy to help out her friends.

"I suppose so," Naoto conceded with a sage nod, hand at her chin as always. "From the outside looking in, it would seem strange to anyone."

"So how did you all meet, then? Bizarre multi-grade class project?"

There was definitely a pause. None of them were quite sure what excuse to come up with; only that they had to think of something to tell her that didn't involve supernatural hijinks. That would only send the average person running for the hills.

"Remember the Midnight Channel?" Yukiko began.

"Yukiko!" Kanji blustered. But she forged ahead, undeterred, and Rise felt her thighs clench beneath the tabletop. Moment of truth…

"Well, that murderer who killed Miss Yamano and the others? We knew he was somehow using the TVs to announce his next victims. Not only that, but my own kidnapping made it impossible to ignore for all of us; myself, obviously, but Chie and the others couldn't just wait for someone else to put a stop to it once our friends were becoming targets. We started investigating on our own since the police didn't seem to have any leads. And when Naoto-kun came to town and began to work with the police directly, we all sort of… found each other, thanks to that common goal."

Wow. Ai wasn't the only one dumbfounded; the others at the table found themselves impressed that she had come up with such a believable almost-truth on the spur of the moment like that.

"Th-that's amazing," Ai finally said, still blinking rapidly to try and dispel her shock. "I didn't know the rest of you were also detectives."

"Not very good ones," Rise provided with a little awkward laugh. "But all of us putting our heads together, we were finally able to figure out it was that creep Adachi. The power of teamwork!"

"Hey, you don't have to keep calling her 'Naoto-kun'," Kanji suddenly said with a slight frown at Yukiko. "We know she's a chick now, don't be disrespectful."

While Yukiko was looking regretful and beginning to bow to offer an apology, Naoto smiled and patted the tall boy on the bicep. "It's fine. In fact, I'm much more comfortable with that than I ever could be with something feminine like 'Nao-chan'. Just doesn't suit me."

Even as Rise was calling out "NAO-CHAAAAAAAAAAN" in a loud, carrying voice and throwing her arms around the stoic girl, prompting some flustered shovings, Ai was smiling across at the junior detective prince. "Naoto-kun it is. Obviously we want you to be comfortable."

Both the sentiment and the smile were so unexpected from Ai Ebihara that everyone stopped to look at her. After a second or two, she cleared her throat and went back to sipping at the dregs of her smoothie.

"Thank you, Ebihara-san," Naoto finally managed as Rise dropped back into her seat.

"Of course. See? I'm not a cunt all the time."

"Never said you were," Rise cooed as she pinched her cheek.

"HEY! Didn't I tell you to stop getting so physical with me? My face is the real money maker and so help me…"

Things only devolved from there. Kanji was apologizing profusely for presuming too much, Naoto was trying to assure him she didn't mind either, Yukiko had lapsed into another uncontrollable giggle-fit when she noticed Chie and Yosuke had started throwing Teddie himself back and forth. And Ai… was laughing and smiling. Not much; she still looked a little out of place there, not quite sure how she fit into the group of friends.

But she was starting to. Sometimes, a modicum of progress was the best you got.

                                                    To Be Continued…

[finnickyfanfiction]

One Little Letter: Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, this fic is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. I watched the movie, and got inspired to write this fic. Hope you enjoy.

SUMMARY: Katie Blumenthal-Stark is the daughter of Tony Stark, and also his protégé in taking over as Iron Man (she hasn’t quite figured out her new name yet). However, she is also madly in love with Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, but refuses to do anything about it. So, she writes a letter to him, hoping to send it to her stepsister, owing to an old tradition they had in high school. What could go wrong?

WARNINGS: fluff, use of the words “ass” and “fuck”, an Avengers team of 13 (I just didn’t want to leave anybody out!)

As the Quinjet had landed at Avengers headquarters, I called to my dad, Tony Stark, while taking off my helmet. “Hey dad, can you order pizza to celebrate us kicking Skrull ass.”

“If I ordered pizza every time we kicked ass—”

“You’d still be one of the richest men alive, Stark.” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, had interrupted.

“Okay, fine, put it up to a vote. Who here wants to order pizza?” Tony announced to the team

Everyone else on the team, all thirteen of them, had raised their hands. “Vision, you don’t even have taste buds.” Tony remarked.

“Yes, but it has been shown that small parties, such as ordering a pizza and talking amongst each other, are what help strengthen bonds in a team, and make for an improvement on the battlefield.” Vision, the android, had responded.

“Okay fine, I’ll order pizza.” Tony relented. “Freeloaders.” He muttered under his breath.

“You know Tony, I think Katie has better ideas than you do.” Sam shrugged. “Talk about an apprentice succeeding the master.”

“Yeah, well she did have to get her smarts from somewhere.” Tony smirked.

“Oh, you mean Jennifer Blumenthal, host the of The Blumenthal Hour on CNN, ‘America’s toughest reporter’” Steve joked, quoting the ads for my mom, Jennifer’s, news show. While not as famous as my dad, my mom is also famous in her own realm, first as a reporter who got a US Senator imprisoned for fraud, then as the host of her own news show, where she had once stared down and verbally murdered the Speaker of the House on live television.

Before all that, she was a college student who was dating Tony Stark, very shortly after my grandparents had died. Still distraught over the loss of his mother, the two were not careful about protection, and conceived me, Kathryn Maria Blumenthal-Stark in 1992. My mom named me after her mom, who had served in the World War 2 Women’s Army Corp. My middle name came from my dad’s mom, Maria, a former singer and pianist. They tried to stay together for few years for my sake, but it didn’t work out. They remained friendly to each other, and they would both spend holidays together, but my mom married another woman, a music executive named Lisa Yakamoto, who had her own kids from her first marriage.

At Steve’s remark, Tony gave a fake laugh, and asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call a local pizza place downtown.

As I started removing the bobby pins from the bun I had my hair in during the fight, I felt Bucky come up to her. “Hey, just wanted to say good job blasting that Skrull.”

I looked up and felt her heart beating faster, my stomach churning, like I was going to throw up. His smile looked effortless and easy, his facial hair looked perfectly untrimmed, a contradiction that seemed accurate on him, and his hair, pulled back into a manbun, looked only slightly messy, what my step-sister, Marissa, would call “fuck me hair”. Even after having just came back from a Skrull battle, he didn’t smell sweaty, but smelled like raging testosterone, and his arms looked as if they were perfectly sculpted. I didn’t dare look any further, knowing it would blow everything I had been working for.

Yes, I am in love with Bucky Barnes. If you had spent every day with the man, with his bedroom across the hall from yours, eating breakfast in your kitchen, shirtless, every morning, and then went on missions with him across the world, in a suit almost perfectly molded, while I was wearing the bulky armor my dad and I made. But after my last boyfriend, Zack, and I ended things poorly, I was taking a break from dating, and I was not going to date anyone on the team. Oh sure, it was working out great for Wanda, but Wanda’s dad wasn’t the one paying the bills for the team and building a lot of the weapons and machinery that kept us going; my dad was. Her and Vision break up, things get awkward. Me and Bucky break up, it becomes Civil War II.

“Uh, thanks.” I smiled. “You, uh, really punched them good.” I nodded.

Bucky raised his eyebrow, and nodded. “Thanks.” He seemed puzzled.

He heard Steve calling his name, so he walked off. Just when I thought I was being saved from humiliation, Wanda comes over to me, and whispers in my ear, “You are so obvious.”

My stomach starts churning again, and I whisper back to Wanda “You don’t think anyone else saw that, do you?”

“For now…” Wanda began, as we both looked around the room. Steve and Sam were betting on who could lift Hulk, Carol or Thor, while they were discussing the otherworldly monsters they had fought who were much worse. Doctor Strange was helping Bruce with his meditation, while Rhodey and Natasha both gave Peter Parker feedback on his fighting, as he seemed enraptured by the two. Brunnhilde, who others called Valkyrie, was trying to convince Tony to order some beer, while Tony was arguing with her whilst trying to order the pizza. “No. But I suggest you either date him, or stop crushing on him.”

“Neither is an option, Wanda.” I told her. “I can’t help how I feel, and I don’t know what will happen if things between Bucky and me don’t work out.”

All conversation was broken up by Brunnhilde yelling “DRINKS ON ME, what do you want?”

As everyone started yelling out drink orders, I walked into my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Marissa, ever the romantic, started a tradition between the both of us. Whenever either one of us had a huge crush, and we had no idea how to deal with it, we would write a letter addressed to said crush, but instead send it to the other. I couldn’t believe I was doing a juvenile game my stepsister and I used to do in high school, but I could think of no other way to get my feelings about Bucky out, and then getting it all done with so he, or anyone else, would find out.

I searched my room for some paper, finding an old notebook, and tearing a page out of it. I grabbed an old Stark Industries pen and I had lying around, and began to write a letter to Bucky.

Dear Bucky,

I have no other way to start this out, so I’m just going to say it: I love you.

Every time I see you walk out of your bedroom across from mine, my heart skips a beat. The way you put your long brown hair in that man bun drives me wild. When you walk out to breakfast with no shirt, but in pajama pants to retain some modesty, I can feel myself get a fever. Your smile, your laugh, they brighten the dullest day.

I like watching you train because I like watching the way your body moves, always in control, calculated, and with force. My dad has caught me a few times. I lied and told him I was taking mental notes on who I would want to train with.

I know you love coming in to mine and my dad’s lab, watching us work with technology you could’ve only dreamed of back in the 40s. Whenever you come in, I start getting cockier, hoping to impress you.

It sounds awful to say, but when we have a big mission with the entire team, there’s a part of me that’s a little excited that we get to fight together, and I hope you watch me show off everything I can do in the suit.

James Buchanan Barnes, you may have spent over 70 years frozen, but you know how to warm my heart.

Love from,

Katie Blumenthal-Stark

After I finished writing it, I searched around my room for an envelope. Why would I even have an envelope in my room? Ugh, I can’t go out and get one right now, it will be suspicious.

“PIZZA’S HERE!” My dad yelled, and I stuffed the letter in coat pocket, hoping to deal with it later.

[twbfics]

Bar Sinister (pt 4)

Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.

Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader

Chapter: 4/?

Word Count: 3,086

Warnings: Language (like always), injuries

Six months. Six negative results. Six reasons why your deal with Negan was worthless.

You were sitting on the sofa in the harem, with Frankie on one side of you and Tanya on the other, each wearing their skin-tight black dresses. And then there was you, in the floaty (but still uncomfortably short) white dress that Negan had one of the workers sew especially for you. You were pretty sure the material it was made from used to be a set of curtains, but it wasn’t like wearing it was optional. It was a uniform. A reminder that Negan could enjoy you at the click of his fingers. A reminder that the Saviours were the “future”.

The future that was meant to be growing in your stomach. Except the pregnancy test that Negan had thrown onto the table in front of you showed ‘negative’ for the sixth time. His eyes were burning holes into you and you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Even the girls either side of you were tense, both of them holding one of your hands.

After two long minutes, Frankie tried to break the silence. “It can take a while. Six months isn’t—”

“HEY! Did I ask for your input?” Negan snapped. You squeezed their hands. “Go see Doctor Carson. Tell him to prep for a full examination. If we don’t have the equipment he needs, we’ll get it.”

Frankie hesitated like there was more she wanted to say, but you nudged her. There was no point in you both getting on Negan’s bad side. Frankie was smarter than that, she hadn’t survived this long by being a brat at every turn. So like a good wife she nodded and made her act of defiance the reassuring shoulder squeeze she gave you before she left. Negan looked at Tanya, daring her to speak. She kept her eyes down and her mouth shut.

Negan sighed and started pacing the room, rubbing his face as he turned to face you. “Is there anything you want to tell me before the good doctor gives you your examination?”

“Like what?”

He sprung forward, leaning on the arm of the chair so his face was level with yours. “I don’t know, like maybe you had an IUD shoved up there years before this all happened and conveniently forgot about it.”

You stared right back, no longer frightened of him like you used to be. Six months of being his ‘wife’ had desensitized you to those intense eyes. “You think I’ve been fucking you with contraception all this time and just faking it?”

“Well considering your first plea to save Daryl’s life was to marry me without the whole kid thing, I’d say it’s becoming more plausible every time you start raining blood. I should’ve had you tested when you first got here but being the trusting husband that I am, I thought: how could that sweet face lie to me?”

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to expose your throat which he’d been peppering with bruises the last couple of weeks. From the old yellow smears that were almost invisible now to the dark purple bruise he’d left last night. He was getting more frustrated the longer your tests kept coming back negative but until today, that frustration had been manifesting in ways you���d both enjoyed. Apparently this result was the last straw.

Frankie cleared her throat from the doorway. “He says he’s ready. He can do the preliminary stuff now and if he needs to do anything else, he’ll write a list of what he needs.”

Negan didn’t bother looking around, he just tightened his grip on your chin. “Well?”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted, staring him dead in the eye. He couldn’t help smiling a little. It turned him on when you stood up to him, and if you were being honest with yourself you quite liked it.

“We’ll see… Tanya, make sure she gets there alright,” he ordered, walking over to Frankie and standing behind her, his lips brushing against her ear. He murmured in her ear, quiet enough so you knew it was just for her but loud enough that both you and Tanya knew she hadn’t gotten away with her earlier outburst. “You and I need to have a little chat.”

Carson pulled on his gloves while you sat back on the chair with your legs spread and just a small sheet draped over your hips to allow you a little modesty. Lubrication sputtered onto the speculum that you were trying your best to ignore.

“Any pain or discomfort during sex?” Carson asked, providing you with a small distraction rather than leaving the questions for later.

“No,” you answered hoarsely, while Tanya sat on a chair in the corner and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Good. This might feel a bit uncomfortable,” he said, taking the seat next to you and pushing your legs slightly wider so that the speculum slipped in easier. He pushed it in and widened the mouth before you had time to adjust but at least he was fast. “Well, everything looks healthy. Are your periods normal?”

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes so you didn’t have to watch him sticking the brush inside. It was only a few seconds before the pressure eased up and he’d pulled the speculum back out. He was good at his job.

“I’m going to analyse this and see if the cells are healthy,” he explained, sealing the sample in a sterile tube. He set a box of tissues down beside you and walked over to his work bench, giving you some privacy to clean up. “If they are, and we’re hoping they are, we can do some more tests around the time you—”

It was Daryl.

In the last six months you’d caught maybe a glimpse of the back of his head a couple of times, but you’d never been so close to him. You’d never seen the long-since healed scars that crawled up the left side of his face, thankfully just avoiding his eye. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he put his head down, trying to stop you from seeing it.

He needn’t have bothered because your vision went blurry, eyes welling up at the sight of him. You choked out his name and held out your hand, silently begging him to close the gap for you. He glanced up through his hair, his eyes darting to Carson and then to Tanya and finally back to your hand. He swallowed hard and took a few steps back and as you got a better look at him, you realised he was cradling his arm. His bloody arm. You jumped off the bed but he rushed out of the room and Tanya stepped between you and the door before you could reach him, leaving Carson to follow him into the corridor.

“He’ll be fine. Carson will stitch him up.”

“Let me out!” you snapped but as you tried to shove past her she grabbed your arms and squeezed so tight it hurt.

“Is that…?” you heard Carson ask.

“Nah.”

“Look at me. Do I need to amputate?”

Your stomach dropped. There was only one reason he’d need to amputate.

He’d been bitten.

Tanya had slapped her hand over your mouth and shoved you further into the office before you could react. You hadn’t noticed the familiar sound of Simon’s thuds getting closer but Tanya was all about staying safe. She’d heard it. And she knew that if Simon saw you and Daryl in the same place, he’d go straight to Negan with a huge smile on his face as he reported you both. It wasn’t you who’d end up being punished. It’d be Daryl.

Once Simon was gone, Carson ushered Daryl back into the room. “You need to leave. I have another patient.”

“Were you bitten?” you asked, only for Carson to block your view of Daryl.

“You need to leave. Now,” he repeated and Tanya dragged you away, leading you back to the harem.

“You’ll see him, alright? We’ll make it happen,” she whispered, “but we’ve got to be smart about it.”

You’d been standing by the window for the best part of two hours while the girls chatted behind you, trying to keep up some sense of normality. Every now and again they’d ask your opinion on something you hadn’t been listening to and you’d just hum in response. The sun was taking its sweet ass time to set while you tried to stop torturing yourself with questions you couldn’t answer. And the worst question of all: what if they hadn’t amputated in time?

What if all you could do was stand here waiting for darkness to fall while he died alone in his room?

You hadn’t acknowledged Negan when he came into the room and it was starting to piss him off. After half an hour of flirting with his other wives, joking loudly and eventually making comments about you, all with zero response, he pulled Tanya to one side.

“She been like this the whole time?” he muttered, keeping his voice low so you couldn’t hear. Not that you were paying any attention anyway.

“What did you expect? She’s been good to you and you just shit all over her,” Tanya hissed back. Negan’s brows shot up.

“Tanya! Do I need to wash your pretty little mouth out?” he grinned. She smiled a little, pretending she was trying to hide it. Playing the sweet, nurturing role had its perks; it meant Negan never suspected her of manipulating him. “What did Carson say?”

“Not much, just took some samples. He wants to do a more invasive test tomorrow but he said she can’t have sex for 24 hours before he does it. We didn’t ask him to go into details but I’m guessing your little swimmers would tamper with the results. So… maybe that means I’ll get more than just a quickie with you for once?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were gettin’ a little jealous.”

She laughed and looked away. It was amazing how she’d learned to blush on command and Negan bought right into it. “Well, I didn’t think I’d miss our nights together as much as I do.”

He beamed, leaning backwards and soaking up the praise. “You’re killing me here!”

“Just… give her a bit of space,” Tanya whispered and leaned into him. “She’ll get over it.”

By the time Negan came to get Tanya, darkness had already fallen. You were lying on the sofa facing the window, staring at the moon grinning back at you. You weren’t sure if it was a comforting smile or if it was a cruel laugh. It changed minute by minute – sometimes you imagined it smiling, telling you that everything was going to be alright. Daryl had been maimed for a second time but he’d survive – of course he would. But a minute later the crescent moon would turn to malice, laughing because he was already dead and you were all alone now. You’d ruined him.

It was a strange thing to imagine while you flip-flopped between optimism and pessimism but it was better to make up stories about the moon than it was to imagine what might have become of Daryl in the time you’d wasted waiting for it to be safe.

When Negan finally came to get Tanya, your heart skipped a beat. You sat up, eager to finally get out of this claustrophobic room but luck wasn’t on your side. Despite Tanya waiting for Negan by the door, he came and sat next to you on the sofa. Of all the times to show some compassion, not fucking now!

He sighed and rested his arm on the back of the sofa, taking his time like he always fucking did. Savouring every minute of the spotlight while all you could do was scream inside your head, over and over again: LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE.

“Look… maybe I was a bit hard on you this morning,” he grimaced, like a child being forced to apologise. “I’m sure whatever tests the good doctor’s performing aren’t your idea of a good time. Now Tanya over there is looking beautiful and it’s been too long since I spent a proper night with her… but to show you how sincerely sorry I am, I’m willing to spend the night with you instead. No funny business – even though I really like our funny business. I know you can’t tonight. So, what d’you say? I’ll keep my dick in my pants and you and me can spend some quality time together as husband and wife.”

Your blood ran cold. You stared at him, wanting to beat that stupid fucking grin off his face. Finally, you said in a quiet, dangerous voice: “Are you fucking serious?”

You could see in his eyes he was taken aback. Your voice had taken on an edge he’d never heard before and Tanya and Frankie shared a worried look. You liked it. They were scared, even Negan was shocked. It felt powerful. Now you knew why your darling bastard husband loved it so much.

“I know you must be—” Negan started, but as soon as you saw him trying to fix that smile back on his face, you cut him off mid-sentence. Something that no one dared to do.

You got to your feet, gaining the height advantage. “You think I’d want to spend a single fucking SECOND with you tonight?! Tell me Negan, when are you gonna get YOUR fucking fertility test?”

He jumped to his feet, his face close to yours and filled with disgust. The silence and hardness of his eyes stripped your power away, but did nothing to calm your anger. After a few long seconds of everyone holding their breath, he spat two words at you before walking away.

“Not. Okay.”

You ran to the infirmary first. It was empty but for a few bloodied bandages left in the bin. Your stomach churned at the lack of a limb, but it wasn’t like Daryl’s arm would be waving hi to you from the trash can. If they had amputated, it’d be out in a skip. Or maybe they’d feed it to the walkers outside. The logical part of you knew that but your rational mind wasn’t in the driving seat right now. Your heart was telling you that no limb equalled no amputation, which meant they were too late.

Only one way to find out. You ran to his room.

Negan had made sure you knew exactly where Daryl’s room was. He’d acted like he was doing you a favour by showing you how well Daryl was being treated – but you both knew the unspoken truth. He wanted you to know where the room was so that it’d drive you mad, knowing he was so close when you weren’t allowed to go to him.

Negan had paraded you around the room, taking great pleasure in making you imagine Daryl’s life in these new quarters – and what he might’ve had to do to earn them.

“You know, when Daryl was my prisoner the first time, he never came out of the hole. I offered him all of this,” he’d said, holding his arms out and turning like he was soaking in the Sistine Chapel instead of the bleak cabin room he’d crammed you into, “and he still turned me down. I respected him for that. Sure, it was a dumbass decision and we beat the shit out of him for it but he OWNED that crap!”

You didn’t want to play his games that day. You’d stood with your back to the wall, staring down at the carpet while you waited for him to finish his newest brand of mental torment.

“I just wanna thank you, sincerely,” he’d said as he closed in on you, “for giving him the motivation he needed to get his shit together and join the winning team.”

He’d stared at you expectantly, but when you refused to lift your eyes from the floor he put his hands on your hips and dipped his head to reclaim your attention. “Hey… you wanna fool around on his bed? Christen it for him?”

“Not really.”

“You sure?” he’d grinned. “Cos I can guarantee he’s gonna be bringing his women back here. Don’t want it collapsing on him in the middle of doing the dirty. We’d be doing him a service testing it out first.”

“You really think he’d be interested in any of the Saviours? You don’t know him very well.”

“And you don’t know how hungry a man gets…”

He tipped your head back, forcing you to look up at him. His face was serious and sensual at the same time. The look that pulled you in and made you hate yourself for it. When he continued, his lips were so close to yours that you could feel his breath.

“Which is why…” he muttered, leaning into you and smirking the way he always did when he knew he was turning you on.

Then he took two large steps back and bellowed, “I GAVE him a microwave! I mean a man’s gotta eat and trust me, as one of my new best men he’s gonna be hungry.”

He’d ignored your scowl, not letting you leave until he’d talked you through every single appliance.

It had been cruel at the time, but now you were grateful.

You knocked quickly, keeping an eye out for anyone turning the corner. There was no answer. You knocked again, louder this time.

“Daryl? It’s me. It’s Y/N.”

Still nothing. Your heart sank when you considered that you might be too late. He might already be gone. If he’d turned in that room you’d be fucked, because you didn’t have a weapon to defend yourself. But then again, if Daryl had turned, you weren’t sure you’d want to defend yourself anymore.

You twisted the handle and let yourself in.

He wasn’t there. All the equipment – microwave, stereo, gaming console – it was all perfectly clean. Exactly like it had been the day Negan had shown it to you, the morning before Daryl had moved in. The only difference was that the bed had been stripped and the sheets dumped in the corner, like they were waiting to be laundered for the next poor soul Negan got his fist around.

There was no trace of him.

None at all.

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[kuriquinn]

The Girl Who Waited [6/10]

Disclaimer & Other Warnings

Author's Note: Manako Inuzuka is an original character belonging to KuriQuinn. Don't use her without contacting the author for permission.

It’s been almost four months since Sasuke left. Four months since Sakura’s entire life was upended and thrown onto a path she never would’ve imagined. For herself or her friends.

She hasn’t seen Naruto in a weeks, not since he started travelling and training with Lord Jiraiya. He sends letters when he can, but they’re rare. She barely sees Kakashi anymore, either—he’s always off on one mission or another. And, of course, Sakura herself is busy training with Tsunade and interning at the hospital. Most days, she can push away the hurt and worry, but other days, it feels like the glaring absences in her life are even more obvious.

She supposes that’s why she makes the rounds on Valentine’s Day, passing out chocolate to her male friends. Anything for a bit of normalcy. Anything to pretend like she’s still a kid and not training until she bleeds almost every day to be strong enough to save the boy she loves.

Because she does love him.

Sakura knew she cared for Sasuke when they were little, but his complete absence in her life has created a gnawing, hollow void. The sensation is too painful for her feelings to have been a simple crush.

Somewhere along the line while she was on his team, learning to become a shinobi alongside him, Sasuke stopped being just a good-looking, smart boy to her. Sakura got to know him—the darkness he wore like armour, and the light he only revealed in his rarest, most unguarded moments. The boy who thanked her for loving him, instead of outright rejecting her even when he was leaving her behind. That boy needs to be saved, even if it is from himself. It’s why she let Naruto make a promise to bring him back. And, no matter what, she will be right beside him when they do.

Until that moment, she’s taking every day one at a time, trying to enjoy the little things that used to make her happy.

This year, there’s no way to send anything to Naruto—even if there was, she suspects Lord Jiraiya would eat it before her friend got a chance. The guy is a complete lout, legendary shinobi or not. As for Kakashi, with his frequent absences, he’s hard to pin down. Sakura considers giving her small gift to Gai-sensei to pass on, but she honestly can’t take his overwhelming exuberance today.

Instead, she heads downtown to Manako’s shop. If Kakashi checks in with anyone when he gets back from a mission, it’s either his rival or his...well, whatever Manako is to him. In any case, the Inuzuka woman is the more perceptive and relaxed of the two options.

Upon entering her little shop, the familiar scent of parchment, ink, and gunpowder wash over Sakura. Shelves with different scrolls and tags line the walls, each one able to create explosive blasts of varying degrees of severity and with different effects. Manako is a genius of demolition—probably due to her keen senses—and, for a civilian, understands the shinobi world better than most.

The woman herself is hunched over the counter, frowning at several complex equations on a scroll from beneath a fringe of dark hair. As Sakura ventures closer, Manako sniffs and glances up, smirking in recognition.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” she drawls, sliding her work away then straightening up, arms crossed. “It’s funny. You kind of remind me of this kid who used to come in here to buy tags. Skinny little thing, about so high?” She makes a motion toward her hip with one hand. “Usually with a loud, blond brat who smells like ramen?”

“Knock it off. I was here last month.”

“I’m just saying you used to be in here more often,” Manako sighs dramatically. “I still keep your usual order in stock, too. But then again, you don’t really have much use for that Sakura Fubuki technique of yours anymore, do you? Is it true that old Tsunade’s teaching you to break mountains?”

Sakura goes red. “Where did you hear that?”

“Well, Scarecrow talks a lot, doesn’t he?” she shrugs and then leers suggestively. “Or at least he does when you know what he likes.”

Sakura’s flattered modesty turns into embarrassed disgust just as fast. “Please stop talking now.”

It’s like thinking about parent-sex! Ugh. I should have gone with Gai-sensei after all!

But Manako laughs and mimes zipping her lips. “What can I do for you, kiddo?”

“I’m only here to drop something off for Kakashi. I always miss him when he’s home, so leaving it outside his apartment seems silly,” Sakura explains, handing over the small box of chocolates. “I mean, I doubt he’ll care either way, but...it’s Valentine’s Day.” She shrugs. “If you want them, go ahead.”

“Nah, never touch the stuff. Me and most of my family are allergic to it.”

Sakura blinks in surprise.

“That…makes sense. Hey, wait! Kiba always used to accept chocolate when we were in the Academy. He used to fight Naruto over it almost every year.”

“That’s because my brother’s a stubborn little bastard who would eat himself sick just to prove a point,” Manako replies dryly, reaching out to take the box. “But I can keep these in my fridge for Kakashi. He’ll wander by, eventually.” She eyes the small sack Sakura is carrying with her and raises an eyebrow. “More stops today?”

“Mm-hm,” Sakura acknowledges, readjusting her gloves; they are still too large for her, but she wears them everywhere. “I’ve got a bunch to give out to my other friends before my shift starts at the hospital.”

Lee should have just gotten back from a mission. Shikamaru and Chōji probably talked Ino into getting them barbecue. Sakura even caved and picked up something for Neji, even though he’s never been what she might call friendly to her. She doubts he’ll eat any of it, but he was part of the team who went after Sasuke to bring him back. She will be eternally grateful for that.

Sakura’s throat aches at the reminder, a sure sign that if she keeps thinking on this, she’ll start crying again. She clears her throat and suggests, “Then...should I get something different for Kiba?”

“Feh! Why bother? By now, it’s almost tradition. Baby brother pukes his guts up, Mom yells at him, and Hana fusses over the little runt until he’s feeling better—a vicious, unending cycle.”

“That’s ridiculous. If it’s something he knows hurts him, why does he keep doing it?”

Manako shrugs. “People don’t always like what’s good for them.”

Isn’t that the truth.

The words hit a little too close to home, so Sakura decides to cut the visit short. She pastes a smile on her face. “Anyway, that’s all I came in here for.”

Manako nods, her face taking on a more thoughtful cast than Sakura expects from her. After a beat, she asks, “How’re you holding up?”

The question is unexpected, considering she and Manako don’t exactly have a close friendship, but there’s no doubt to what she’s referring. Everyone in the village knows of Sakura’s one-sided feelings for the youngest Uchiha traitor. She knows people say things when they think she can’t hear, but she’s never taken Manako to listen to or care much for gossip.

In the hopes of side-stepping the issue, Sakura continues to smile, but it’s a little more strained now. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Manako replies. “But I won’t push it if you’re set on faking it. Sometimes, it’s the only way to make it through the day.”

“What...what do you mean by that?”

She shrugs, piling her parchment and ink on top of the chocolates for Kakashi. “Nothing.”

But now Sakura is annoyed. “So, why did you say anything?”

The bomb-maker is silent for a long moment, but at the last second, pauses in her journey to the back of the shop. “Look, you’re not the first woman to get her heart broken by an Uchiha,” she tells her bluntly, though not in an altogether unkind manner. “It hurts. In a way, it will hurt forever. But that just makes you stronger. And at least yours is still alive, right? So, just hold on to that. And go out there and kick ass.”

She disappears into the back of the shop, leaving Sakura puzzling over that. The implications are strange and yet not as surprising as she would expect. Sakura forgets sometimes that Sasuke wasn’t always the only Uchiha in the village. In fact, if the reports she’s glimpsed on Lady Tsunade’s desk are any sign, he still isn’t.

Once, there was a whole clan, people who were part of this village. There are probably people still alive today who knew them, and now...now everyone pretends they didn’t exist.

The notion bothers her, and it’s still in her thoughts as she wanders alone through the Uchiha district at the end of her day. In her hands, she carries a small, potted cherry tomato plant which she bought at the market on her way home. She plants it behind Sasuke’s empty apartment, in a spot she knows from her last visit here gets a lot of sun.

Looking down at the lonely little plant, she thinks on Manako’s words and clenches her fists.

He’s alive. Somewhere, he’s alive. He will come back. And I’ll make sure no one forgets him!

つづく

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but if you feel like keeping me caffeinated out of the goodness of your heart, it certainly would be appreciated! I’m also starting to post original works to my patreon.

I’m only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the support of readers like you, so every bit helps!

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