#and she was co-op locked the whole time so it was just me her and gigi in vc with her in a separate world for several hours a day

[perdidit-vulpes]

thinking about all the ocs that’ve gotten abandoned because they remind me too much of her. lmao. lmao! lmao

[refigiowen]

All I Need - A Celebration For A Nascent Butterfly

First 30%

I know not when it started, that agonizing pain within my heart. When i started to feel it, i felt like a butterfly that was soon to be.

Let me tell you about it, about me.

This city is an endless inferno, one even those at the top cannot fully escape. People are desensitized to everything, emotions as a whole, may they be love or fear - death as well has become a daily sight for everyone. The gods of this city, sitting atop their corporate thrones have taught us that the more you dare to feel, the less value you have. After all, emotions dictate the mind to think logically. Such is the biggest thorn in the eye of the corporations. And so many of us have stopped feeling alltogether, without any of us even realizing.

And i too was one of them, until i met her. She, who lit a flame within me that consumed all the grey and burned colors into the darkness that was my soul. But who she was, i cannot tell you. I don't know who she was myself.

It all started on just another, monotonous day at work. I walked into the office of Diveroli Workshop, my workplace, and was immediately approached by my co worker and dear friend Gabriel. I will not lie, i first saw him as a strange man, someone whom i should stay away from. But for some unknown reason i simply couldn't. Perhaps it was his openess to me, the fact that he would ask me about my day and my hobbies that locked away all feelings of negativity towards him and, instead, replaced them with feelings of friendship. Him and i would chat during work about all kinds of things.

And one day he would mention his wife and his son to me. It's not the fact that he had a wife and a son that surprised me, it was the entire concept of a family. A family, in most cases, is built on love between individuals. Love. Love is what stood out to me. What even is that? I did not know. "Say, you love your wife dearly yes?" I said to him, not looking away from my work. "Yes, of course, she's all i could ever wish for." He would answer. That wasn't the answer i was looking for.

"What makes you love her so much, then?"

"Her simply being her true self around me, i guess? We don't need to be doing anything and i would feel at peace as long as she is next to me."

"Just that?"

"Well, i suppose that her showing me a side of her that no one else knows is also something worth mentioning? I fell in love with her because of her true self, good and bad points, and because she felt like my other half. She was like a ray of light in a sea of fog, that fog being my own heart."

What he said sounded like nonsense to me. I could not understand his words, they sounded like gibberish in my ears. I nodded and we dropped the topic. But little did i know, i would soon come to understand them more than anyone else.

But his words kept echoing in my mind. Is that all this thing we call love is? I could not wrap my head around it.

Either way i finished my work and went home, before that i remembered to say goodbye to Gabriel. He told me that people do that.

I often times find myself questioning who i am as a person. I hardly even know what brought me here, to the Diveroli Workshop, and where i am now. I am a woman with a single friend, i make swords and all kinds of meele weapons for a living, and i live in a small apartment on the bottom floor. Truly, this life of mine is almost one which i don't lead myself. And yet i find a strange comfort in this loneliness. After all, this loneliness allows me to focus. But then again, focus on what? I hardly know myself, i hardly am aware of who i wanted to be, who i want to be now. Am i really [BUTTERFLY]? I felt a single tear run down my left cheek as i sat on my bed.

This post will be updated in the coming days. This is only the first 30ish percent of the chapter as this will cover A LOT of backstory for the Butterfly. Thank you.

[kiricat]

Reposting this post of mine from one of my Cohost accounts because I like it

I tend to overthink "favorite" questions. I tend to tie myself into pretzels trying to answer them, to come up with some kind of objectively and permanently "correct" answer, as if such a thing were even possible. But instead of doing that this time, I am going to go with what my heart is saying (screaming!) [my favorite retro game is] right this moment:

Sonic 3 & Knuckles.

You see, my sister was my best friend growing up. Pretty much any time I wasn't on the computer (and some of the times I was), I was hanging out with her. It wasn't that I didn't have other friends; it was that she was my favorite person in the whole world, even if (regrettably) I didn't always act like it.

For reasons I don't wanna go into right now, our family didn't have a lot in terms of video games. We had a NES, I personally had a Game Boy and Game Gear, and then we had our computer. Now, of course, I had played SNES and Genesis games (in fact, I sought out and savored every possible opportunity to do so), including the 16-bit Sonic games right around when they first came out. (Hell, I even got to play one of them before it came out, but I'll save that story for another time.) But actually owning a 16-bit Sonic game was just out of the question, or so I thought.

Then, one day, in like 1998 or so, I was puttering around the Internet and found demos of Sonic games for the PC. The one that intrigued me most was the Sonic CD demo, but I also checked out the one for the Sonic & Knuckles Collection. This was a PC game that included Sonic 3 and Sonic & Knuckles, in all their locked-on and non-locked-on permutations, plus the full Blue Sphere minigame. It could output either Adlib or General MIDI music, but otherwise seemed completely identical to what I remembered of the Genesis version, which I thought was amazing.

The demo only included Angel Island Zone, but that was enough for my sister and me for several months. Usually, we did the pseudo-co-op thing (I played Sonic, and she played Tails), and sometimes, she played as Tails by herself. We both scoured every square inch of Angel Island, and learned the first four special stages. We put so, so many hours into this demo. So, naturally, I asked for the full game for my sixteenth birthday, and got it. Not only did we have an absolute blast exploring the full game, but we played the Competition mode excessively (she literally always beat me at Balloon Park). It was our favorite game, by far!

(Side note: if you know much about S3&K, you know that the PC version had some different music, most notably in the last three zones of Sonic 3. I didn't know this at the time, so the PC tracks were the ones I heard first, and the ones I'd later become nostalgic for. So, when I first played Sonic 3 on the Genesis, and got to Carnival Night Zone, I had the exact same "GAH WHAT THE HELL IS THIS" reaction that I'm sure Genesis players had to the PC music. I had to listen for years to people saying that my preferred version of the soundtrack was "wrong" and "not the REAL music" even though, in my opinion, the PC songs fit classic Sonic better. You wouldn't believe the vindication I felt when the community discovered that, actually, the PC songs were prototype songs, and were therefore the original tunes all along!)

So, time passed, we grew up and grew apart, and I finally got the courage to come out at age twenty-nine. (I wish I had done it much sooner, but my parents were fundies and I had to deprogram from that, sooooo yeah.) Most of my family just rejected me outright. But not my sister. Don't get me wrong; she still was (and is) a fundiegelical. But she felt that there was no sense in being a dick to me about my transness, and therefore made good-faith efforts not to deadname or misgender me.

In fact, she went even further than that. I remember, several years back, when she and her husband and son were visiting my town, and I trepidatiously agreed to meet up with them. Upon seeing me for the first time, my nephew asked me what my name was, and I told him truthfully, "My name is Alyssa." And my sister was like, "Can you say Alyssa?" Just. Wow. Wow. We've talked a few times since then, and I wish we could talk more. I also wish she was more accepting, yes, but I truly think that she is doing the best she can within the mind prison she's in. And I treasure that.

So, yeah. I play it because it reminds me of her, and I like that. Specifically, I still play the PC port (albeit with Sega PC Reloaded and the S&KC Mod Loader), because every little detail of that port is seared into my mind and heart. And I don't just mean the music; I mean, all the little inaccuracies. The jittery special stages. The slightly mistimed credits. The way the pallette gets all fucky in that orb bonus stage. Sound effects playing when they shouldn't. I even went as far as to use MainMemory's music config program to make the game use my old sound card's soundfont for MIDI playback, just because that's what reminds me most of the time we spent playing this game.

And it doesn't hurt that S3&K is, like, super glorious just as a game. All the characters are fun, there are so many levels (and most of them are great with fun gimmicks), the music (no matter which music or how you enjoy it) is exquisite, and idk, I just love Sonic!! Pretty much the only thing I don't like about S3&K is that last Hyper Sonic fight, which I find clunky and awkward. The rest is magical. <3

[greenlotusleaf]

By the time I got home from work, Legends of Wild Sorcery had finished installing. I changed out of my work clothes and into some pajamas, got my water bottle ready to go, and settled in for the weekend. Kat would be getting off of work too, and after a few hours' drive, would be here for a whole weekend of couch co-op video games and-- let's be honest-- debauchery.

I started up the game, noting Kat's message in the Steam client: "character creation is a lot... play what you want, but if you have trouble deciding, I suggest water mage... I'll be a tank." Kat was always the sort of player to learn the game systems before she even launched the game; god only knows where she heard about this obscure title anyway, but she gifted me this copy, and it looked fun enough.... Honestly it was enough just to be hanging out with her this weekend for unlimited makeouts, her infectious enthusiasm over game stuff was just a bonus.

Character creation was, indeed, a lot. I spent a lot of time trying to decide between the male and female character models, trying to get my idealized self created in the engine. By the time I was done, I had a fairly androgynous female adventurer, with rock-hard abs, a cute little butt, and the smallest breasts the character creator would let me get away with. It was amazing the variety the sliders would let me play with, and I briefly marvelled at the cartoonish proportions that would be possible before locking in my choices. By this point, I was ready to get into the gameplay itself, and grateful for Kat's advice when the long list of skills and traits appeared. I threw my starting points at things that seemed water-magey, and launched into the game.

Legends of Wild Sorcery tough to figure out. At least the steep learning curve was helping me pass the time while Kat was on her way over. I picked my way through exploration and combat challenges, trying to learn the basics. Water magic had a deep toolkit of utility spells, buffs, and debuffs, but I began to suspect I had built this character wrong. Kat was right that the utility-mage archetype appealed to me, but I kept running into "out of Essence" messages with my spellcasting and had to improvise with bad melee skills to finish fights. Eventually I realized I could improve skills by using them repeatedly, and had devised a clever system to spam cheap water-conjuration spells to improve my "Essence Capacity".

Taking a deep drink from my water bottle, I paused to reevaluate my strategy. After a few more minutes pumping my stats, I pushed through the next combat encounter with ease, and was confronted with a level-up screen and the chance to invest skill points. I smashed the "plus" button for Essence Capacity, Water Potency, and Water Amplification a few times, and clicked "apply," shifting in my seat to get comfy and draining the last of my water bottle. I headed back to the outfitter to upgrade my equipment. That was the first clue that something weird was going on.

Previewing new mage outfits on the shopping screen, I noticed my avatar was different. My character's flat abs were obscured by a layer of pudge, tiny tits blown up into C-cups at least. My tight little ass was more plush than before. "Damn sexualized games," I thought. "Maybe I should have gone with the more masculine avatar after all, even if the robes looked like shit on him." Annoyed, I got up to go refill my water bottle... and felt surprised by the amount of jiggle on my little frame. Feeling fat, I thought about the weird discrepancy between the slim, svelte character I had created and the plump, lush adventure I was now playing, and dismissed the connection. So I gained a few pounds, so what? Most of my hobbies are sedentary.

Back from my break, I decided to see how much I could level up before Kat arrived to do co-op content. I cleared out caves and bandit lairs, spamming my stat-training Waterbolt, Rainstorm, and Water Conjuration spells as I went. As the XP racked up and the stat boosts rolled in, I could almost imagine my adventurer's pert little ass widening, pumped full of arcane mastery. The jiggle physics were pretty impressive, I had to say, and I thought of Kat's cute butt, and got a little turned on about it. I wondered how long until her arrival, and began to touch myself at the thought of it, but my hand bumped into my chubby belly. God, how long have I been letting myself go like this? I don't remember these pajama pants being so snug around my thighs, either.

Now finally getting the hang of Legends of Wild Sorcery, I was tearing through quests and accruing arcane might. Another level-up screen, and I invested in a new option: Liquid Reserve. This time, when I applied the new stats, I felt the change unmistakably-- a sloshy bloating in my belly, making my shirt tighten and my waistband dig in. I went to check myself out in the bathroom mirror and was startled to see my own figure. My belly was big, soft, and full, and my once-flat chest had grown into heavy, bloated tits. I turned, and watched my reflection oscillate slowly, mini-waves sloshing through my new flab. Water magic?, I thought. The idea seemed absurd, but then I looked back at my character's figure-- round, swollen belly and fat mommy-milkers-- she was at least thirty pounds heavier at level 3 than she was at level 2.

Distracted by my thirst, I refilled my water bottle, then nestled back down on the couch. Adjusting my boobs and setting the controller atop my big belly, I got back into the game, concerns forgotten.

Pretty soon, I found an advanced spellbook-- a significant treasure, and the first one that matched my character build. (I watched the animation of my character bending over to reach it out of a treasure chest, ass full and round on display, with a detached lewd interest.) A new spell, Summon Water Spirit, was my first entry point into the conjuration skill tree. I quickly learned the spell, then went over the details-- a twenty-minute cast time, but it seemed like I'd be able to do other stuff while I waited.

I clicked the "cast" button for the new summon spell, and was bombarded by messages. A bunch of stats increased right away, but the casting had failed somehow? It looked like I was locked out of trying again for the entire twenty-minute cooldown. And then, there had been that weird visual glitch, where my character had summoned a bunch of motes of water, which looked like they had clipped through her torso. Weird.

I kept adventuring, trying to ignore how different this character's model was from my waifish original vision. Maybe I would reroll after all. It was maddening, after having tried to match my body reasonably well, watching this hyper-voluptious wizard tromp over the fantasy countryside on her enormous legs, with her widening butt and huge tits jiggling with every step and every spellcast. Now it was apparent that the armor models didn't scale with the character models, as this character was clearly getting too fat for her mage robes, with her breasts threatening to spill out of her tunic and the little skirt riding up and exposing new and plentiful ass. I pensively scratched the exposed crescent of belly between my shirt and pants and reached for my water bottle again.

Horny and bored of playing solo while waiting for Kat, I opened up my inventory and decide to play with different armorsets on my bloated water-mage. The empire-waisted mage robes were a waterfall of blue silk from underneath her jugs, diverting far out over a protruding stomach. The adventurer's tunic showed a bit of midriff at a baseline, and now it-- wait a sec, is that an outie? I unequipped all armor, watching my character shift impatiently in her idle animations, modeling simple underwear, her pregnant belly obviously third-trimester. How had I missed this? I checked the debuff counter, and sure enough, I was fifteen minutes into the twenty minute failed cast of the Summon Water Spirit spell.

Was my character going to summon this spirit by... giving birth to it?

My mind flashed back to all the cryptic stat boost names... Was "Essence Capacity" related to this adventurer's growing girth?

I got up to refill my water bottle again. On the way past the bathroom door, I caught my reflection in the mirror and gasped-- the androgynous little video-game waif was not the only one that had grown. How had I not noticed my own huge tits, or stretched, distended belly? Had I really gotten this fat in the last couple of hours, too distracted by this game to notice? Was this a real pregnancy? It couldn't be... right?

That was when Kat knocked on the door. Instinctually, I wanted to hide, but I could hear her using her key, letting herself into my apartment. I stood frozen in the middle of the room, too big for my pajamas, as the door swung open, and my girlfriend filled the doorframe, tall and muscular (was she always so tall and muscular?), broad-shouldered, powerful. She took a step inside, and I marvelled at her thighs, watching the muscles slide beneath the surface, and I couldn't help but imagine my head between those thighs.

"Hi," she said, walking closer. "Looks like you've been enjoying the game? I see you took my advice about the water mage," she said, caressing the roundness of my belly. I felt a coolness on my chest and realized my heavy tits were leaking-- lactating water, moistening my shirt with this magically conjured element. "I've been playing a knight," Kat continued casually, and I felt her powerful hands undressing me, steering me back to the couch, climbing on top of my and spreading my legs, "but a water mage looks better on you."

As Kat kissed my mouth and groped my enormous, sloshing breasts, the screen caught my eye, showing me my burgeoning mage struggling under the weight of an impossibly huge belly full of spirits, now visibly growing. Kat reached between my plumpened thighs as the timer on her conjuration spell ticked closer to zero.

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite���‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch9: Lebanon, Lebagone  

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary:  A few months post their reconciliation, Jake and Stella run a mission with the rest of the team…

 Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8k ish.

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

A/N: So the mission detailed here was highly inspired by the second book in the Grey Man series. Locations and a few major details are changed, and the names are completely made up.  The Terrorist/Political party- The Lebanese Freedom Party, does not to our knowledge actually exist.

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8 

 “Alright, let’s get in position before daylight hits.” Clay looked around as they walked down the narrow alleyway.

“Roger that.” Stella nodded as Cougar replied with a tip of his hat to show he had heard, Pooch also inclining his head.

The four of them stopped by a door to their right, Stella pulling the tool from her utility belt which was fastened around the waistband of her camo pants. She picked the lock in under thirty seconds, a simple job that required a little bit of jiggling, twisting and a good jerk with the torque wrench Cougar was holding to defeat.

“Not particularly high security considering this was a bank.” She mumbled as behind her Cougar chuckled.

Inside it was pitch black, dust rose in clouds, shimmering in the moonlight, which was streaking through the dirty arched windows. Both of them flipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning the room for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was none. 

They crossed quietly and quickly through the main atrium of the old building, taking care to keep to the shadows. The old bank was completely deserted bar a few desks and old telephones which sported thick layers of dust as they moved through, heading for the spiral staircase at the far side.

“We’re clear.” Pooch said as he looked up to the top of the staircase. “This place hasn’t been accessed for years.”

“Lima Six, anything to report?” Clay spoke into his radio and a moment later Jensen replied.

“Nothing on the comms, they’re talking about moving Kilo One out at the time we suspected but it could be a rouse to make sure…but Lima Two��knows the code-word should they decide to go early.”

“Okay, as soon as you get movement let me know.”

“Ten-four, One.”

“Okay, let’s get set up.” Clay instructed and the team nodded in agreement as they all set about, placing various pieces of equipment around the place exactly where it needed to be for when their target and his security detail, in which Roque had embedded himself undercover, came storming into the pre-designated building, seeking refuge from an attack outside.

It took them roughly an hour to set up completely, things having to be precisely as Pooch directed. Eventually, when he was happy, they climbed the staircase at the back of the room. Four sets of eyes swept the square below. It was deserted, as was to be expected at such an early hour in the morning.

Stella scanned the buildings, nevertheless, her eyes sharp, looking for any sign of movement around the whitewashed and pebble-dashed sandstone that they had grown accustomed to seeing over the last three weeks or so they’d been in Nabatieh, Lebanon.

“So Khalil should be coming from there.” Pooch raised his arm and pointed to a small road to the right. “The plan is we lay down some fire by his bodyguards as he approaches the podium, and force them to take shelter in the bank, as led nicely by Roque.”

“Why do we want this guy alive so badly, anyway?” Stella mumbled to herself. “If he’s such a bastard, why don’t we just kill him? He’s a terrorist leader.”

“The Lebanese Freedom Party ain’t deemed terrorists all over the world.” Pooch grinned and Stella snorted. “Russia views them as a legitimate socio-political force.”

“Russia basically executes people for being gay” She scoffed. “Forgive me for not taking their viewpoint here as the one to set my moral compass against.” She sighed. “Cougs could take one shot, straight in the head. Boom. Job done.”

Cougar chuckled as he unloaded his rifle and stand, looking up at Clay. “She’s not wrong, Boss.”

“Whilst wiping that particular shit stain off the face of the earth might be appealing, they ain’t our orders. We apprehend alive.” Clay spoke, matter of factly and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Whatever helps us sleep at night, huh?”

****

Stella had to hand it to their Intel department. The start of the hit went like clockwork. At bang on the designated time, Jensen radioed in to say that they were moving out and sure enough, twenty minutes or so later he accounted the SUVs and jeeps had left the compound. He joined the rest of the team little over half an hour later, leaving the dirty van he had been driving hidden down a dark alleyway at the back of the bank, behind the one the rest of the team had arrived in and headed into the dank building, wrinkling his nose at the musty air as he walked in. 

“Hey.” He greeted Stella, his hand falling to her shoulder as she sat in the back, her attention focussed through the window, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.

“Hey.” She whispered back, her gaze flicking to him quickly, flashing him a smile as she turned back to her spotting.

“So I picked up on their coms that they think Khalil’s personal security have done a sweep of the area.” Jensen looked at them. “Roques done his job nicely. They should be entering the square from the South West corner.”

 “ETA?” Clay turned to him.

“Less than five minutes.”

“Excellent.” Clay nodded. “So far so good.”

The next five minutes or so passed in silence, all five of the Officers in the room observing the roads leading to the square just in case. Even though their intel was solid, it was drilled into them that they should never rely on it completely.

“Boss,” Cougar spoke suddenly, his shoulders squaring back, “target approaching. Roughly two miles out.”

“Fuck, I got something coming too from the North East.” Pooch groaned.

“What?” Clay demanded.

“I dunno but it looks suspiciously like an ARV.”

“An ARV?” Clay frowned.

“Yup. They’ve stopped. Six hundred yards out.”

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Jensen demanded, snatching the binoculars off him.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Pooch replied. “They’re not moving.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella growled and Clay took the binoculars off Jensen. She watched as Clay took a look before he sighed heavily and dropped his head.

“It’s the Lebanese Special Service. I recognise one of them from a mission a while back.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

 “I should have seen this coming.” Clay bit his lip. “They’re going to hit him at the rally. The false trail we leaked to them means they think we’re moving on him as he makes his way out of town and up to Beirut. They’re going to get in first.”

“It’s a double cross.” Stella looked at Jake and Pooch as she spoke, the pair of them exchanging a look before all eyes bar Cougar’s, which remained firmly fixed on his target, turned to Clay. “Why?”

“Death to the West and all that.” Clay sniffed. “They’re gonna take him out and try and use USA involvement as cover.”

“Don’t they realise that won’t work?” Stella shook her head. “We’re Black Ops, the thick fuckers. As soon as there’s so much of a sniff that shit is going west, the CIA will leave us high and dry, denying they had anything to do with it.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Pooch turned to look Clay. “I’m hoping you got a Plan B, because Plan A is going to shit.”

“Kilo one still approaching.” Cougar stated.

“You got anything special in your arsenal?” Clay turned to Pooch. “As in blow up an ARV special?”

Pooch blinked. “Yeah, the RPG but…”

“Go get it.” Clay instructed.

Pooch didn’t hesitate, he shot off down the stairs and Stella watched him go before she turned her attention back to the large square, which was roughly the size of two football pitches, busy with people bustling about their everyday business.

“If we get this wrong, the whole square is gonna be caught up in a fucking gun fight,” Stella spoke, her eyes falling on a group of kids in the middle.

There was a pause before Clay spoke again. “Khalil is our main objective; we just need to keep collateral to a minimum.”

Collateral. Stella hated that fucking word. She swallowed and looked at Jensen who gave her a small smile, which she returned before she glanced back at the square.

“One mile out.” Cougar informed.

“Okay,” Clay spoke, clapping his hands together. “Pooch, as soon as the LSS move, you shoot that RPG straight at the fuckers.”

“Gladly.” He nodded, “But, chances are if they’ve got an ARV out there then they’ll already have agents on the ground.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we gotta do is get a shot off first.  Once that initial gun crack is heard, Khalil’s security outfit are gonna herd him in here anyway. And hopefully, when the LSS get note their vehicle has gone bang it’ll draw them into blowing cover somehow.” Clay nodded. “At least then we’ll be able to spot where they are.” He took a deep breath. “Cougar, keep watch on Khalil. As soon as you get a viable opportunity to lay down the fire, take it.”

Cougs, who hadn’t taken his eye away from the target sight of his gun simply tipped the brim of his hat again with his finger to show he had understood and Clay turned to the other three of them as they waited instructions.

 “What about Roque?” Stella asked. “He doesn’t know about the LSS.”

“He’ll roll with the punches.” Clay rubbed his hand over his chin. “Everyone clear?”

“Clear as, boss, it’s a shoot-out.” Jensen snorted, nodding his head as he gave a chuckle. “Good times.”

“If this is your idea of a good time then I’d hate to see a bad one.” Pooch grumbled and Stella gave a chuckle.

“Hey, Poochy, I just like to see the positive in all aspects of life.” Jensen grinned, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “You’re just grumpy because Jolene’s finally managed to…ouch!” Jensen gave a yelp as Stella punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for, babe?”

Stella shot him a look which instantly shut him up. Pooch had confided in her, Cougar and Jensen no less than two days ago that Jolene was four months pregnant, but he didn’t want to tell Clay or Roque for reasons that he was keeping to himself, as per his prerogative, she supposed. It had made her and Jensen snort a little, as when Aubrey had found out she was pregnant roughly five months or so ago, the entire world had known pretty much before the pee was dry on the test stick. Jensen’s eyes widened as he realised exactly what he’d been about to say and he grimaced, before turning to Pooch, giving him an apologetic look.

“Kilo One is approaching the square.” Cougar spoke, and they all turned their attention to him, stepping forward to the window, Clay observing their surroundings with the binoculars. 

“Okay, focus up Losers.” Clay hushed them all, gesturing to Pooch. “Get ready with that RPG”

Pooch shot Jensen one final filthy glare before he stepped forward, resting the grenade launcher on his shoulder.

“Arty, Jensen, in position.” Clay instructed. “Coms on, code names only.”

They both nodded, Stel picking up a device that had been in Pooch’s big bag of tricks, and made their way back to the spiral staircase.

And then, it all happened at once. Clay gave the order to fire and both Pooch and Cougar took their shots at the same time. The popping of guns, sounds of screaming and yelling and a rather large explosion followed by Pooch’s loud chuckles of glee hit their ears and Jensen looked at Stella as they waited at the top of the stairs.

“I really shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I should.” He grinned, and Stella snorted as suddenly the room below them was full of voices, once of which the recognised instantly as Roque. From their extensive planning, Sella knew that they would likely hustle into the room in a tight cordon, with Khalil in the middle and head to the most secure part of the building, the vault. They had no idea how many of the guard had made it into the building with Khalid, but essentially it didn’t matter. The Losers were one step ahead.

As soon as the group made their way towards the main part of the atrium, through the open double doors which led through the cashier area, Jensen grinned at Stella.

“Hit it, babe!” 

Stella smirked as she pushed the button on the device she held in her hand. The large electromagnets that had been placed on the locks snapped into place, firing the four inch thick steel bolts into their slots, securing them tightly, ensuring no one could get out, and no one else could get in. Yells of warnings rang out about the place as the guards instantly wheeled round, their guns raised and Roque’s eyes flickered upwards to where they were hidden on the veranda above. Jensen raised his right hand, his index and middle finger extended and he waved them across his face, indicating that their next move was about to go down. Roque made no sign he’d seen them, bar a quick double-blink.

“I’m sorry, pal.” Jensen grimaced a little as he ducked down and lifted a heavy square box off the floor, flipping the plastic cover up, jamming his thumb onto the red button. “Lima Two is about to deploy, please return to your seats and cover your ears.” He spoke into his coms, giving the rest of the team a warning. As soon as the device beeped to say it was charged, Jensen launched it over the side of the railing where it fell onto the floor below. As soon as it left his hands, he and Stella ducked down, their fingers jammed in their ears, eyes scrunched shut as the device activated.

Referred to merely by Pooch as the S-Fud- ‘Sensory Fuck-Up Device’, the item had been developed by the boffins in the CIA lab to create complete optical and aural disorientation by using ultra violet and bright white lights and a loud, high pitched sound and sonic wave. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the flash of light still bounced off all the surfaces surrounding Jensen, and the hands which were clamped over his ears might have dimmed the majority of the loud wailing siren, which lasted no more than two seconds, but the combination was still enough to leave him feeling slightly woozy as he stood to his feet, blinking furiously, his eyes feeling like he’d stared straight at the sun, his eardrums ringing as if he’d spent hours in a nightclub with music thumping in his ears. Besides him, Stella staggered to her feet and shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. But they had no time to waste. Jake gently shook her shoulder and she nodded to show him she was okay. Together they made their way down the stairs as quickly as they could. 

The S-Fud had done its job, all the men were incapacitated to some extent. As Stella’s eyes glanced around she quickly counted six men in total. Three, one of whom was Khalil, were completely unconscious, face down on the floor. Two more, including Roque, were writhing in pain, hand clutched over their ears, and one was attempting to stagger to his feet. In a flash, Stella had nailed him with a kick to the face, and he fell backwards with a thud, his nose shattering as her heel smashed straight into the bridge.

“Did you see that?” Jensen turned to the other three men who had joined them, all looking around the room. “My girl, she’s a bad ass chick.”

“Can you concentrate on the mission in hand for once and not your dick?” Pooch shook his head as Cougar hit the moving guard with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

“Your momma concentrated on my dick last night.” Jensen shot back and Pooch groaned.

“Seriously? Momma jokes, now?”

“Shut up.” Stella nudged Jake harshly with her elbow as she walked past, following Clay as they stepped over the unconscious guards, heading towards Roque as he groaned and lay curled up in the foetal position. Clay knelt down and reached out, loosening his tie and the top button of his dress shirt before patting him on the shoulder, as Stella did the same to their target.

“Okay, lets move.” Clay looked up. “Jensen, Pooch, you take Roque. I’ll get Khalil. Cougs, Arty, give us cover to the vehicle.”

The team all nodded, Jensen and Pooch stepping forward, each seizing Roque under his arms. They managed to get him to his feet, each supporting him, their arms round his back as his arms slumped over their shoulders. His feet staggered on the floor as he made an attempt to talk.

“We got you, buddy.” Jensen said softly. “You’ll be alright, just feel like you’ve got one hell of a hangover for a few hours.”

Meanwhile Clay had managed to hoist Khalil to his feet with Cougar’s help, the man a complete dead weight, which he allowed to slump against his right shoulder. With an almighty heave he ducked and then stood, using his legs to rise up fully, Khalil slung over him in a fireman’s lift, his arms dangling freely down Clay’s back.

Without another word, the team moved as quickly as they could to the dead-bolted doors where Stella reached into her pocket with one hand, whipping her pistol out with the other. She clicked the device, which unlocked the glass doors and they made their way across the atrium, the chaotic noises from outside growing louder as they approached the back door to the bank they’d used to enter. Stella flattened herself against one side of the wall to the right of the door as Cougar took aim with his rifle. He looked at her and nodded, and in a flash she reached out and yanked it open, Cougar darting through, rifle held in front of him. 

“Clear.” He spoke and Stella moved to allow the rest of the team to step out into the alleyway, taking up the rear. 

She spotted the man hiding in a doorway two down before Cougs even had chance to shout a warning. In a flash she fired pistol twice. The first shot hit the guy in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, the second in the knee and he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Then came another, and another. As Stella and Cougar continued, Jensen, Pooch and Clay heaved their charges to the side of the van, ducking as shots rained down on them. Pooch wrenched open the door, and Jensen hopped into the back, hoisting Roque in as gently as he could, a sharp contrast to the way Clay simply slung Khalil unceremoniously into the back. As Pooch ran to the front and hopped into the driver side, Stella and Cougar both sprinted towards the van, flinging themselves in as the engine started. With a sharp tug, Clay pulled he door shut as Pooch started the engine. 

Seconds later, the van roared back off up the alley, the crackle of gunfire from the square growing quieter and quieter as they put more distance between them and the danger.  Pooch drove them out onto the main road, towards the point, some six miles or so away, where they would ditch the van and hop into two separate SUVs and make their way to the agreed Ex-fil point at Saida Port roughly a half an hour or so drive away.

Stella closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal of the van, watching as Pooch and Jensen  hoisted Khalil into a sitting position, securing his wrists with flexi-restraints behind his back. Cougar was busy offering Roque some water, Stella pleased to see their teammate was finally starting to come round. She smiled as Jensen flopped down next to her, his arm looping round her shoulders as he pulled her to him for a soft kiss.

“I love working with you,” he grinned and she snorted, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re a regular nine-to-five couple, aint we?”

****

“Stel?” Jake called through the door of the bathroom of their temporary lodgings before he opened it and to be greeted by Stella led back in the bath, eyes closed. She turned her head to look at him. “I was gonna ask if you wanted head out with the guys for a beer and food but you look pretty comfortable.”

She pulled a face. “I’m feeling anti-social.” Jake laughed at her frank answer and smiled as she gave a small shrug. “Sorry, not sorry, but we spent four weeks in a hell hole motel and I’m extremely grateful Clay’s managed to get us holed up in a nice place and not the Officers’ Quarters on base so I intend to make the most of it.”

“Babes, we were both in the army.” He snorted. “Rocks for pillows and all that.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while since I did that. What can I say? I’ve grown used to the finer things again.”

“Fair enough, I’ll let Clay know you hate them all and don’t want to socialise.” He teased.

“Jakey, we’re gonna be here for by my guess a week at least, plenty of time to go out sampling the finest bars the UK has to offer.” She shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by his teasing. “If you wanna go meet them, feel free. I’ll grab a take out. There were some leaflets pinned to the board in the kitchen.”

“Or…” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I stay here, because frankly, that bed looks really comfy and I kinda wanna test it. See how grossed out we can make Pooch.”

“Jerk.” Stella snorted.

“Well, he’s done nothing but complain since we got here about how he has to share this house with us and can’t go in with the others, so I wanna give him something to really complain about.”

“You’re such a little shit.” She laughed and Jake groaned. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Laugh?”

“Yeah, it’s making your boobs wobble under the water, and that’s making me horny.”

“You’re always horny.”

“Hornier than usual.”

“Well, I can solve that problem.” She grinned and Jake smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, turn around and shut the door on your way out.”

“Ouch, Stells.” Jake slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“Hmmm,” She muttered, laying her head back and closing her eyes again. “If you’re getting in here you better hurry, or the water will be cold too.”

Jake grinned and in a flash, reached back to grab a fist full of his t-shirt behind the collar and pulled it over his head. As his hands flew to the button on his jeans Stella nodded to the door.

“You better lock that, I know you said you wanted to gross Pooch out but if he walks in on us he’ll be scared for life.”

“And?”

Stella merely arched her brow, “No locky, no fucky.”

With that Jake spun on his heel and flicked the lock, before he turned round and shoved his pants and boxers down in one full swoop and swung his leg over the side of the tub. Stella moved forward so he could settle behind her, his legs laying either side of hers. It was a tight squeeze, the tub in the two bedroomed terraced house wasn’t built to accommodate two but neither paid it any mind. 

Stella took a deep breath, closed her eyes and leaned back, her head laying against Jake’s chest as his hands softly rubbed up and down her forearms, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

They were silent for a while, the pair of them simply contented to stay there for a moment, relishing the peace after a long and tedious mission and the chance to relax for an evening before the debriefs and analysis started the next day in the War Rooms of the RAF Base in Suffolk, England. Often, the aftermath of a mission was more hard-going than the action itself. They’d hash over the events, listen to the CIA operative justify some of the more morally ambiguous decisions made, no doubt the ramifications and political fall-outs, be informed about how the CIA were going to play it and then they’d have to submit written reports, which would be Classified at the highest levels and stored in the top secret vaults in Virginia. 

It was part and parcel of being in a black-ops team. They knew the script, having read and played it many a times before. But it was draining and exhausting, one of the many reasons Stella was glad that the actual missions they ran, whilst they could last months at a time, were on the large few and far between.

“You okay?” Jake broke the silence and pressed his lips once more to the back of her shoulder and Stella nodded, tilting her head round so she could look at him.

“I spoke to Rey before.”

“Yeah, how is she?”

“She said she felt the baby move for the first time.” Stella beamed.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jake grinned back, “are they gonna find out what they’re having?”

Stella snorted, “dur. You know what she’s like. She’ll want to decorate and buy it blue or pink clothes, plus if it’s a boy she’s got time to mentally prepare seeing as all she wants is a little girl to treat like a doll.”

Jake laughed. “Is it wrong I kinda hope it is a boy?”

Stella grinned. “Nope, I was thinking the same. She’s asked me to be with her when it’s born.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jake wrinkled his nose. “Dick’s gonna be about as much use as a knife in a gun fight.”

“Knives can be very useful in a gun fight, if you know how to use them.”

“Oooh I love it when you talk dirty, babe.” Jensen smirked and dropped his head to kiss her softly. His right hand moved from its spot on her arm to stroking her hip, tracing a path down the outside of her thigh. His fingers softly traced shapes on her warm, wet skin just to the side of her knee before he moved his touch up her leg again then across to her abdomen. Stella sighed against his mouth, as her head lolled to the right. Jensen’s mouth moved, trailing a line down her neck, nipping at the hinge of her jaw. 

He was growing hard against her, Stella could feel it, and the way his fingers were ghosting over her made her skin tingle and her body shiver. "Jake," she whimpered. "Yeah, baby?" His fingers found the tuft of curls and then her nub. "You gonna sing for me, Stells?" He encircled her clit with his fingertip and drew back up. "Let me play that pussy?" “Fuck...” she groaned, leaning further back into him, her body sagging into his. She loved his dirty talk, being so in control for most of the time, she enjoyed letting herself go when it came to this. “Feels good, Jakey.” "Yeah? You like it when I touch you, feel my fingers inside? Stretching you for my dick?" He dipped two fingers inside, his thumb able to press into her sensitive clit. "Jesus, fuck," Stella gasped as he moved into her. The thickness of his fingers felt like she was on fire and had her silently begging his foreplay wasn't long. "So fucking wet already, babe." Jake was enjoying the feel of her on his fingers. It'd been a long while since he'd felt all of her and he hid his desperation well behind dirty words and filthy ministrations. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin as he went, lips curling into a smirk as he listened to her softly groaning. Her hips moving in time with his hand as his fingers curled inside her.  Water began to just teeter over the tubs edge but neither paid any mind. Stella's breathy pants bounced off of Jake's cheek as he watched himself finger fuck her. "I love it when you fuck my fingers, baby." "Oh God," Stella squeaked, for she was going to hit that edge and fall right over. The time between, the angst of their mission and Jake's mouth were nearing too much. "Jakey, please," she moaned. "Cum on my fingers, Stells, then I'm gonna fuck you, really...really... good." With each 'really' Jake barely rutted against Stella, just enough to tease her at what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to slide in, slow and deep, her body seated on top his, while he feasted on her nipples and neck. He wanted to be buried into her to the hilt and paint her walls with his seed. Stella came undone as her body quaked against his chest. With a breathy squeak she went rigid and her hand flew from the side of the tub, wrapping around is wrist as she came, her walls clamping around his fingers "Fuck, Stella, turn around baby, sit on my lap." She was as languid as the water around them, her body drowning in ecstasy as Jake helped her turn in the small space. His fully erect and throbbing cock stood at attention, his head just above the water’s surface. He guided Stella just where he wanted her and slowly dipped inside her still trembling walls. The sensation was more than Stella had bargained for and she moaned out loudly as she sank into him. "That's it baby, let them hear you" Jake bucked a bit into her, closing the gap that Stella was slowly shortening, his cock fully inside her and he moaned himself. She felt so good, so tight. Like there was no one else made for him but her. The thought gave him a flutter deep in his belly. She was his, and would be forever, if she'd have him. Stella rolled her hips against his, grinding down the pressure on her sensitive clit while Jake's lips moved over her skin, nearing her pert nipples. His hands wove around her back, fingers pressing into her spine as he bobbed his hips up and down to meet with her rolls. It was a dirty grind, water sloshing out of the tub like waves licking the shore. When Jake found a nipple and rolled it between his lips, his tongue tasting her flesh and his teeth nipping at it, Stella tugged at the little bits of longer hair atop Jake's head as she squeaked out a pleasurable sound. One of Jake's large hands palmed down her back and over the curve of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rocked all whilst he played with her breasts. The same hand soon found its way between their bodies and pressed hard into her clit before smoothing upward over her tummy and grasping her left breast, kneading it gently. The more he gave, the more she took and before long she was grinding down against him, her breathing ragged as he thrust up, hard, his hands dropping to her hips.  “Come on baby,” he groaned as her head fell back, his lips nipping against her collar bone, “fuck, I love you.” “Love you.” She groaned as he thrust up, her hands curling over his shoulders, nails biting his skin. “Shit, Jakey, I’m gonna...” “Cum baby, come on.” His jaw clenched as her body trembled and her eyes fluttered closed, as she let out a broken, whispered groan. As she clenched around him, Jake gave a soft growl of his own, his hips moving slightly faster as he rutted up, pulling her down onto him. The coil in his abdomen that had been tightening and tightening snapped and his entire body surrendered, a surge of warmth spreading from his belly outwards and he stilled, his cock twitching as he came. A few sloppy thrusts later and he stilled with a satisfied him, his hands moving to smooth Stella’s damp hair back off her face as hers cupped his cheeks. She simply looked at him for a moment and he gave her a grin causing her to chuckle as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.  “Jesus Christ, that was amazing.” Jensen mumbled and Stella grinned, her lips meeting his once more. They stayed still for a moment, soft kisses being shared until Stella shivered a little and Jake helped her move off him so he could get out of the tub and leave her to finish off. He grabbed a towel and his glasses from the basin unit before he dried off, gathered his discarded clothes and headed onto the small landing of the accommodation. Pooch, who was just emerging from the other bedroom shot him a look. “You better clean that damned bathroom before I use it.” He arched his eyebrow and Jensen grinned. “You’re like the best disgusting person I know.” Pooch continued with a snort before he nodded his head to the stairs. “Take it you’re two ain’t coming?” “Already came, Poochy.” Jensen grinned as he walked to their bedroom, laughing as the sounds of Pooch’s groans of disgust hit his ears.

****

Stella woke the next morning to a burning deep in her core and Jake’s face between her legs. Her orgasm roused her much better than any alarm or cup of coffee ever could and as Jake stuffed himself insider her, his mouth nipping softly at her neck, she smiled softly to herself as she realised he’d done this very thing the first morning they’d moved up to college together.

After pulling on her Army Uniform cargo pants, Stella tucked her khaki green tee into the waist and adjusted the belt before she sat down and laced up her heavy boots as Jake fiddled with the collar of his, complaining that it felt tight. When Stella pointed out he was slightly more built than he had been last time he wore it a good few months ago, he grinned and flexed his arms to give her the ‘gun show’ making her snort and shake her head.

They headed out of the house and walked the half a mile to the main gate of the base, flashing their ID and making their way to the Mess for breakfast where they met with the rest of the team, Pooch giving them another filthy look as their antics had continued beyond the bathroom and much later into the night. Once they’d finished eating, they each grabbed a coffee to go and headed down to the War Rooms - a network of conference rooms and IT facilities nestled in a bunker along the runway of the RAF Base - and settled down in the leather seats around the large, polished mahogany table ready for whoever it was from the CIA that would be arriving to give the debrief.

They’d been there for roughly half an hour or so and Jensen was already bored. He was messing around, twirling his pen in-between his fingers, the other tapping against the disposable coffee cup. After a pause, he took his pen and began to draw a face on the white plastic lid.

“What are you doing?” Stella looked at him, having caught his fiddling in the corner of her eye.

“I’m bored, Stelly,” his voice was a childish whine, “where is this guy anyway? We’ve been waiting here for like thirty minutes!”

“Just take the fucking pen off him, Arty.” Roque groaned. Stella reached over for it and snatched it away”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Jensen, shut up!” Roque shot back and Jensen turned to him.

“Why? It’s not like anyone is talking anyway.”

“You, you’re talking. As usual. Put a sock in it.” Roque turned to Stell as Clay stood up and walked to the door to see if anyone was coming. “How the fuck do you put up with this?”

“He has his mouth busy most of the time.” Stella quipped as she leaned back in the chair and Jensen gave her a dopey grin.

Both Roque and Pooch let out noises of disgust, Cougar’s chuckle just audible from the other side of the table where he lounged with his feet on the table and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Yeah, laugh all you want but next time it’s you sharing the digs with them.” Pooch looked at him. “I’m done.”

“Chill out.” Cougar replied and Pooch blinked.

“Did you just tell me to chill?”

Cougar smirked in response, tipping his hat up slightly to flash Pooch a wink.

“The Pooch is perfectly chilled.”

“The Pooch refers to himself in the third person,” Jensen shook his head, “that’s so not chill.”

“Oh…this just got even better.” Clay’s remark had them all turning towards him, the teasing banter dying off as Roque sat up.

“What?”

Clay simply walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Less than five seconds later, in walked a very familiar face.

“Oh great.” Jake mumbled as Stella blinked, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he’d stormed out of her apartment all those months ago.

“Good Morning.” Evan greeted them all before he nodded to Stella, a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Evan, hi... what are you... what are you doing here?” She asked and Evan took a deep breath.

“It was my intel you guys were running down so I’m here for debrief.”

“That was your intel?” Pooch spoke and Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been tracking Khalil for a while and reached out to him a while ago to offer him a deal. He declined so we needed to bring him in.” Evan nodded. “His activities were giving us cause for concern, not to mention with the Russians behind him. We needed to make the grab before he got even more power behind his cause.”

Jake sensed Stella tensing slightly besides him and slid his hand over her thigh. Her fingers gently locked over his as she kept her gaze on Evan, who had spotted the subtle movement of Jake’s hand. He didn’t say anything, instead the man’s eyes flicked to Jake’s who simply stared back before Roque chipped in.

“So, we got the guy. Did he give you what you needed?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Evan replied, apologetically. “It’s classified, need to know basis.”

“In that case I don’t wanna know.” Pooch mumbled.

Stella’s mind was whirling. Truth be told, she’d started to think about exactly why they’d been dispatched to capture this particular guy alive, when his type were ten-a-penny all over the place. There was a lot more to it than the fact this guy’s ideologies didn’t fit with those of the Western World.  And then, the final little piece dropped into place in her analytical brain and she turned her head to see Clay watching her.

“Did you know?” She asked.

Clay shook his head. “Suspected but…”

“Suspected what?” Jensen looked at Clay then Stella. “Babe?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why we were on a capture not kill mission. At first I assumed it was to do with not making him a martyr but then throwing him in prison would cause just as much unrest. But that unrest will die down when he’s released in a few months in exchange for his cooperation for details on his Russian backers and arms suppliers.”

The rest of the team looked at her, then to Evan who blinked, his face remaining stoic as Stella shook her head and continued.

“He then lets his supporters know that he and his friends in Russia had a disagreement and he was traded away. He retires to some island somewhere, under the careful watch of the UN and fades away into non-existence.”

There was silence and Evan took a deep breath, “it’s not quite as simple as that, Stel…Stevenson, but yeah, that’s pretty much the basics.”

“God, this is so fucking bent.” Stella shook her head. “It’s no wonder the entire world hates us.”

“You know, considering you technically work for the CIA and the Armed Forces, you kinda signed up for this.” Clay raised his eyebrow as Stella rolled her eyes.

“We tried to negotiate terms with him. He turned them down.” Evan replied, matter-of-factly. “So we sent you in to enforce them. The rest, as I stated a minute or so ago, you really don’t need to know.”

“Yeah, classified, we heard.” Clay replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you suspect the Lebanese Special Service would try a double cross?” Roque looked at Evan and the man shot him an apologetic look.

“It was always possible, yeah. But you know how it goes…”

Roque scoffed and Cougar shifted in his seat, Evan’s eyes flicking to him before he took a deep breath and shrugged.

“If it helps, think of the bigger picture. We remove their leader, cut off the Russian support, and suddenly the LFP is nothing more than an overhyped street gang...”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help.” Jensen wrinkled his nose and Evan shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, that’s your opinion. Not ours.” He cleared his throat, “anyway, it’s done. The mission is over. For now, you guys need to lay low. We’ve cleared it with the RAF for you to stay in the area for a while until all the fuss about Khalil going missing has died down. We’ll be monitoring all the usual lines and channels of communication, making sure no one has your descriptions and doing what we can to keep your faces out of the public eye.” Evan paused. “But, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if we can’t.”

At that The Losers simply looked at one another. Evan was right, they didn’t need reminding. That was the whole point of the CIA running the number of Black-Ops teams it did. It gave them a way to do the slightly grey area dirty jobs and remain at arm’s length, denying all responsibility if required.

“Any idea on how long that’s gonna be?” Pooch asked. 

“Probably be a week, maybe two. But once we’re confident we’re clear, we’ll send word and get you back to the US.” Evan replied.

“So what you’re saying is we got two weeks off?” Cougar spoke and Evan looked at him, giving a shrug.

Pooch grinned and fist bumped Cougar.

“Are you staying here too?” Jensen looked at Evan and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m flying back to Virginia tonight”

“I’m not really worried…” Jake shrugged. There was a moment where both men simply stared at each other until Clay coughed.

“Right, is there anything else?”

“Mission reports due as usual, next forty eight hours.” Evan turned his head away from Jensen and looked around the team. “I’ve arranged access into the Red Network from the hub on the base. Your liaison officer, Wing Commander Levinson, says he can set you guys up with time on the range or the phys- ops courses too, have you join their drills if you want. Might be an idea to keep yourselves sharp.”

Cougar, Pooch and Jake all groaned at the suggestion of the physical training whilst Roque and Stella looked at one another, nodding.

“Yeah, I can go for that.” Roque agreed.

“And that’s it, other than on behalf of the CIA I wanted to thank you, it was a slick operation. We’re really pleased with how this one turned out.”

The team exchanged looks and soft smiles, before Clay stood up.

“Okay, Losers. Let’s grab some more coffee and then we can regroup. Figure out what we do for the next two weeks.

Movement filled the room as they all stood to leave, and just as Stella had picked up her empty coffee cup, Evan cleared his throat.

“Stella, can I have a word?”

She hesitated and Jake turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Jakey, it’s fine. Go, I’ll catch you up.”

He blinked, before he turned to Evan, the glare he gave him positively filthy before he turned and left the room. Evan and Stella stood still watching him go, before Stella turned to Evan, the man giving her a soft smile.

“You look well. Being happy suits you.” His tone carried no anger, and Stella found herself returning his smile before she sighed and shook her head.

“Listen Evan, I...”

“It’s okay Stella,” he spoke, holding his hand up, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to apologize. I was an asshole when you broke up with me.” Stella took a deep breath as he continued. “The way I acted and the things I said were horrible. My mother would be ashamed and I just ...” he shrugged. “I wanted to let you know I was sorry, that’s all.”

Slightly surprised at his outwardly contrite tone, Stella simply shook her head. “It’s okay. You were hurt. I hurt you.”

“Yeah you did but that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He smiled, gesturing with his hand to the door. “And I’m glad that you and Jake are, you know, making it work.”

As he spoke the final like, that tell-tale nerve in his jaw twitched a little and Stella knew that he wasn’t happy, at all. But, given that the rest of his apology had been genuine, she accepted the gesture for what it was.

“Thank you.” She gave a soft smile. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I did like you Ev, it just…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that now. And hey, no hard feelings. If we hadn’t broken up I’d never have met Talia so…”

“Oh, you’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded. “It’s early days, we’ve had a few dates and been away for a weekend. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Good, well I hope it works out.” Stella smiled. There was a pause before she took a breath. “I better…” she jerked her hand towards the door and Evan nodded.

“Of course…”

“I’ll, erm, see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, take care, Stella.”

“You too, Evan.”

With a final smile at one another, Stella left the room and headed back up the corridor. Jake was waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall of the building.

“All okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“To apologise for the way he acted when we broke up.” Stella shrugged. “That was it, oh, and he’s seeing someone else. Which is nice. I hope it works for him. He’s a good guy.”

Jensen made a non-committal noise in his throat and Stella looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just, well, I don’t know what it is but I still don’t trust him, never have. He’s shady.”

“He’s an intel officer for the CIA.” Stella scoffed, taking Jake’s hand. “We’re a Black-Ops team. Far more shady than he is.”

“Suppose.” Jensen sniffed, as the two of them walked down the side of the building. As they went, Jensen suddenly had a sense of unease. Almost as if they were being watched. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, but found no one. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. They were on a secure Military Base, probably the safest place they could be given the circumstances.

“You okay?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he assured her, “so, the rest of The Losers are in the coffee shop. Pooch is already on his phone checking out local bars, fancy hitting a few tonight?”

“Why not?” Stell grinned up at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Jake smiled, and pulled her closer as they headed off to join up with the rest of the team, casting a final glance over his shoulder, once more seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

**** Chapter 10

[antiloreolympus]

7 Anti LO Asks

1. Persephone’s character honestly just sucks. With everything that has happened I now see why Demeter was the way she was, her daughter has killed people and a nymph. “Oh I’m so naive and innocent but I won’t hesitate when I get tattled on for murder.” Like I know RS wants complicated more than 1 note characters but this is opposite sides of the spectrum.

2. what i dont get regarding LO is apollo's stupid plan is nothing to kronos coming back, who was awoken/revived by persephone's own lack of control, wouldnt that be even more valid of a reason to put her under lock and key? like she's genuinely a threat not just in her lack of control (which the comic frames as good) but she's creating more problems via kronos and having hades and co. being corrupt to keep her free of punishment. there is no peace and justice if she's walking free in the end IMHO.

3. ok but also with LO framing apollo as evil for wanting to overthrow zeus: it also frames zeus as corrupt and bad (despite no one minus hera and hades's personal grievances and i guess ares not liking him) so?? whats exactly the endgame supposed to be? hxp become rulers of all the realms? the monarchy is overthrown? hera rules solo a "yass queen" moment? you cant establish apollo is evil for wanting him out of power, but also keep saying zeus is a bad king! theres no happy ending for any of this!

4. I’m getting sick and tired of LO stans lying about the actual mythology just to make there shitty webcomic look better. Like one time i saw someone saying that they wished Apollo wasn’t evil in the comic so him and Hyacinth could be together (same) and you wanna know what a LO stan said? “You clearly don’t know anything about the myths Apollo killed Hyacinth in the original myths because a princess was also in love with him and Apollo being the selfish predatory bisexual yandere (yes they said yandere) he is decided to kill him because he’s a dick” they then went on about how Op only liked Apollo because ancient times ancient greeks where “barbaric”

(They where also low-key biphobic threw out the whole thing)

5. Does Persephone even feel guilty? Like now that the village people incident is known by the readers she doesn’t think about it or talk about it even tho it’s about her trial coming up. And then the other thing is that when it’s brought to light she turns someone apart of that team into a plant. She should have known something like that could have been coming since a -she killed some people and b she wasn’t punished for it. Like I’m sure Demeter promised she’d take care of it, but there’s only so much she could do. Like it’s fair Persephone committed a crime and used her powers for wrath and killed people. Like I know Zeus isn’t fair but still her life isn’t in “tatters”. Persephone cares more about not being like Hera enough and being called a “dumb village girl” once, rather than idk actual murder or taming her powers

6. its shocking to me that we're almost four years of LO and minthe is still more distinct than the actual lead. you see a red woman with pointy ears, a sleek business look, and a death glare, and you instantly knows that's her, meanwhile you see a bright pink, baby faced woman and instead dont know if its persephone, daphne, or some other random nymph OC someone made up. even Hera isn't unique anymore with Leto around. The majority of unique looks are villains and Hades, and that's it!

7. I haven’t read the fast pass, BUT from the little snippets I’ve read, how can you have a timeskip with so much happening right now? Daphne is waiting for Demeter, Demeter is waiting for someone just anyone to notice she’s gone and a bird (like I thought that was gonna be a Hecate and Persephone bonding thing where Hecate would treat Persephone as an adult) Minthe is still a plant, like shouldn’t some of that stuff get addressed before they pull a secret wedding? Wouldn’t the fans actually wanna read a wedding? I know I shouldn’t say too much since I don’t have fast pass so my view shouldn’t matter this much, but I can’t imagine these plot points being done with proper care and planning. I honestly feel RS wants to shove as much HXP she can and then remember there’s like sometimes a plot to follow.

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 1

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ 

Warnings: Smut, violence, flashbacks of past sexual assault, descriptions of torture and racial slurs

This story will contain spoilers for FATWS, and a few spoilers about Black Widow. This is not a Tony Stark friendly story.

I hope everyone enjoys the story :)

Pairings: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, Clint/Laura, and Sam/Sharon. Tony/Pepper, (mentioned only).

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a mystery woman, he starts to realize maybe his past isn't too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14

The Novosibirsk HYDRA base had been abandoned for at least a few years, but it had been in use recently. The rooms were vacant of any dust, something that James Buchanan Barnes noticed as he surveyed the building that had once been his former home as the Winter Soldier. He couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. He had insisted that the bodies of the five Winter Soldiers be given a burial. Plenty of the Avengers had backed him up when Tony had refused to do so. Anything that was of use had been taken away as evidence against HYDRA, seeing as they had been rebuilding their empire. Bucky couldn't help but remember Zola's words. "Cut off one head, two more shall take its place," the recording of Zola had said gleefully. Bucky had shot the machine to pieces in case the AI had planned on blowing them up. He was just about to leave when he found a file disregarded in one of the rooms that were used for medical use. It was mostly written in a mixture of Russian, Belarusian and Ukrainian. Before he could really take a look at it, though, a voice called out. "Bucky, you ready to go?" Sam asked quietly. He nodded and put the file in his backpack, before leaving the room. They joined the others, who were also ready to leave, and made their way to the quinjet.

The young woman's dark hazel eyes snapped open as she was awakened from her sleep. She looked around the room wearily, wondering where her handlers were and if they had fled? It had been so long… She couldn't remember for how long she had been, however…but the last thing she recalled was being taken away to have her mind wiped. If that was the case, then it had been 2016. What had happened since then? Suddenly, she heard a quinjet starting up above the base. She needed to board that plane, before HYDRA returned. That was her way out. That had to be. Quickly, she started running up the stairs, shielding her eyes from the blizzard, and shivered slightly. However, not even the cold could stop her from climbing onto this machine somehow. She found a back door hatchet in the quinjet, before climbing inside and locking the hatch. She made her way to the lower deck, before seeing a flash of red hair. Her eyes narrowed as she hid, but flashes of her mind came back to her. She knew that hair colour, but she couldn't remember who had it. Damn it. She sighed, before settling down, and prepared to get to her next destination.

Bucky sighed in relief when they landed at the Avengers Facility, but grimaced at the weather forecast. The news reporter said that it would be the coldest March on record and advised people to stay at home until the storm passed. He intended on going to his apartment, have a much needed warm shower and then watch the baseball game with Steve, Sam and Clint tonight. He was going to spoil Alpine. He loved the white fluffy cat that he'd rescued from the streets. He went downstairs to get his backpack when he noticed that it hadn't been where he had put it. He frowned, looking around and shrugged. It wasn't like there was anything important in there from before, but maybe he had left it at the base? No, that didn't make any sense. He lets out a soft sigh and glances away, turning back towards the facility. "Hey," he hears from before, feeling himself smile as Steve emerged, his brow raised. "What's going on? We got a whole pizza in here for you." Bucky snorts. "I don't need that much food." "Debatable," Steve states, chuckling lightly. "But you, okay? You look like you've seen a ghost?" "Eh…think I'm just seeing things." Bucky nods towards the base. "Come on. I'll take a slice and then we head back. We gotta get shelter before this storm hits." Steve nods, pushing him forward gently. "Now that sounds like a plan."

The young woman waits until everyone was gone and the voices had stopped, and only then did she allow herself to emerge from the cargo section of the quinjet, moving as quickly as possible. Jesus Christ, it was cold here too. Why couldn't they have flown to somewhere warm. She glances up at the giant "A" that sat atop this building, and with a start, she realizes that it was an Avengers base. Out of every damn place she could have flown to… You know what? It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting some form of clothing and getting clean. She quickly heads in, taking quick glances around to make sure no one was there. Strangely, there was no one around. But she had a feeling it was most likely because they were in a meeting of some sorts. Great. That gave her the perfect timing. The young woman moves as fast as she could through the halls, looking around, trying to pinpoint out the one spot that she so desperately wanted. And there, near the end, it was. A door with the label 'shower rooms.' She practically groans in pleasure before racing inside, locking the door behind her so she could be alone. While she would like to enjoy this shower as long as possible, she knew her time was limited. So today, it would only be for the basics. As soon as the water had turned warm, she stripped herself of her clothes and stepped in. She always had a regimen, even something she could remember with her fuddled head. Hair, face, body. Those three steps to get it done as soon as possible. And that was exactly what she did, watching as the dirt and grime began to roll of her body in waves. By the end of the shower, the drain was clogged. But hey, it wasn't her problem. And now she smelt of lilacs, so it was even better. She steps out and grabs a towel, unlocking the door and glancing out. There had to be rooms or something here with clothes of some sort. Maybe something she could change into. She had stolen a backpack from someone – maybe that could work. Quickly now, she runs across the hallways to what seemed to be bedrooms, cursing the ones that were locked and then finally finding a few that were open. As she steps inside, she pillages the drawers, finding some jeans, shirts, pajamas, underwear – the whole nine yards. Yes, this was a goldmine. The next couple of rooms seem to have the same amount of clothing, which she steals from as well. Usually, she was never one to just take people's belongings. That was always her caretaker’s orders. If she put one toe out of line, well…that was that. It was the end. But now, her caretakers weren't here. She could do whatever she wanted. And that meant this. As soon as she had changed into some clothes and stuffed several other pieces in the backpack she took, she grabbed some shoes and put them on, heading towards the hallway once more and then racing out. Thank God that this meeting was going on long enough. When she exited the building, she did see plenty of vehicles, waiting to be used. Maybe she could hot-wire a car of some sorts? But as she walked up to a motorcycle, she feels herself smile. Whoever had driven this left the keys in it. "Dumb fuck," she mutters, before getting on and straddling it as quickly as possible. She gives a mock salute to the base before taking off, leaving this area behind.

"What exactly did you find at the base?" Fury asks, his brow furrowed. "All I see here are some old techs that don't quite work anymore. You said this meeting was for something important." "It is, sir," Sam says. "Bucky found this." He brings over the folder that Bucky had found. "He didn't have the time to read it while in the quinjet, but I did, and what's in there is…real fucked up. I don't know if this is going on anymore but…. just read it." Fury takes the file with interest, putting it under a projector so they all could see what was inside.

The file detailed a program called the Black Widow Ops Program that began in the 1950's. It took orphaned young girls as young as five years old to be trained at the Red Room Academy, which was located in the Maryina Horka Forest in Belarus. "The Red Room has ties to an agency called Leviathan. Leviathan is a Soviet deep science and espionage agency. S.H.I.E.L.D had a run in with one of their operatives - a woman called Dottie Underwood. The Leviathan program was shut down in 1963 but the Red Room was already functioning," Steve explained quietly, his voice grim. Fury flipped through the file, his face turning grave at every turn of the file. Everyone at the table was given a copy. Most of the names were crossed out, having died during missions or from training. Bucky glanced at the names, recognizing a few of them. Polina, Irina, Viktoriya, Zorya, Natasha and Yelena. There was another name, but it had been redacted. "All of the people on this list are dead aside from me, Melina, Yelena and Alexei. We shut down the Red Room once and for all after Taskmaster, along with Lukin, restarted the program in 2016. We destroyed the building, and all the girls were killed or had died," Natasha said firmly, her face giving away nothing. He knew better though. She and Yelena were hiding something. "How can you be so sure, Romanoff?" Tony asked snidely, glaring over at her from where he sat next to Bruce and Rhodey. He had been acting like an ass since the Decimation had been reversed. "Because we killed all of them, Stark. They were too dangerous to be allowed to live. Something that the Soldat would know," Yelena answered coldly, her brown eyes flicking briefly towards Bucky. "Don't you dare bring her up, Yelena! You don't have the right to mention her and neither do you Natalia!" Bucky said dangerously. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room. Steve gave Yelena a look of disappointment while Sam ignored her, and both went to check on Bucky. Wanda followed shortly after, with Billy Russo and Grant Ward leaving as well. "We'll continue this meeting in the morning, everyone. Next time, Yelena, I suggest keeping your mouth shut," Fury said warningly, before leaving with his leather coat billowing behind him as he walked out the door. Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Kate and Yelena were the only ones left in the conference room. An uncomfortable silence hung over them. Clint was the first to say what Bruce and Kate were thinking. "Did you really have to bring up Bucky's past, Yelena? For Christ's sake, he's been through enough. I get that you're mad at him for beating Alexei, but it's not his fault that Alexei got sent to prison!" Clint said angrily, before leaving. Kate left with him. Bruce shook his head. He liked Bucky and didn't understand why Natasha and Yelena harbored so much distrust towards him. Tony hated the man and refused to let him stay at the facility.

Bucky had gone to the garage to get his bike. He just wanted to get away from this place. He knew he wasn't welcome at the compound, but neither was Steve, Sam, Clint, or Wanda for still agreeing with Steve on the accords to an extent. No matter how hard he tried, people were still afraid of him. Some even said on Twitter that Tony should have killed him in Siberia when his arm had been blown off. He sighed heavily, before starting up the engine and drove out of the garage, making his way home. It doesn't take long, thankfully, since they were so close to the city. He parked outside his apartment, heading up the stairs before opening the door and being greeted by Alpine. The fluffy white cat purred at seeing him. He crouched down to stroke him tenderly behind the ear. The cat purred loudly before he locked the door and went to wash his bowl. After finishing that, he gave Alpine fresh water and fresh food and biscuits. He smiled as he watched Alpine eat happily, before turning on the TV and started cooking dinner. "You don't deserve to be an Avenger, you murderer!" Tony had snarled at him when Fury announced Bucky was being added to the team. All he could did now was prove all of them that he did deserve to be an Avenger. It was all he could do. He made sure to text Sam and Stave that he was alright. He didn't want to burden Steve and Sam, or Clint and Wanda. They were good to him, along with Yori and Leah, even though Yori knew it was him that had killed his son.

Anastasia had dumped the bike at the nearest garage before going to a long-abandoned HYDRA safe house in the Upper West Side. She checked to see if anyone had been there lately, but luckily, no one had ever checked the place out. She took off the black leather jacket before checking the office and logged into the computer. She typed in the password, relieved when it was correct and was greeted with a very large amount of money. "You were a bastard, Pierce. I fucking hated you, but at least you didn't lose the money after all this time," she remarked coldly, before deciding to make her way to Madripoor, converting the money to cash just as quickly through the machine. It was probably the safest place for her, considering that the Avengers would soon find out that the HYDRA safe house had been slept in and the money was gone. She counted the notes carefully, stunned that she had over 4.29 million dollars in cash. She intended on donating some of the money though to a few charities that she genuinely liked. The Red Room and HYDRA had always hated how she was still soft despite the brutal training they put her through. Not to mention the days of starvation and having broken bones from sparring sessions.

Natasha had gone to her room to have a shower and get changed into more comfortable clothing, only to realize that some of her clothes were missing. Namely one of her black leather jackets was missing along with a pair of her size seven black combat boots. Did Yelena or Wanda take her clothes? Her brow furrows before she moves outside. "Wanda?" She calls out as she sees the Avenger pass her. She looks up as she does. "Did you take any of my clothes?" Wanda's brow furrows before she shakes her head. "No, not at all. Is your stuff missing?" "Stuff from me is missing too," Yelena says, emerging from her room. "Couple of my shirts." "Huh," Natasha mutters before turning to Wanda. "Sorry for bothering you. Think we might have just misplaced stuff." Wanda smiles a bit. "We all do that sometimes." She waves bye to her as she heads back towards her room, but as soon as she had moved around the other side of the hallway, Natasha pulls Yelena into her room, before closing the door behind her. Instantly, Yelena's eyes turn to her. "What's going on?" "You and I both know what I'm thinking," she says lowly. "Why do we think that our clothes are missing?" "Could just be some kid who broke in." "Come on, some kid can't break into an Avenger's base," Natasha chastises. "Barely anyone knows where this place is unless told…it had to be someone who had tailed us back all the way from…you know where." Yelena's eyes widen a bit. "You don't think-" "We didn't see anyone there but…but what if? There might have been someone who has escaped the HYDRA base when we left and is now just…roaming around New York City. How else would our clothes be missing? They must have stolen them to get clean and then taken off." Yelena bites her lip and then nods her head slowly. "It does make sense." "Fury," she says quietly, bringing Yelena's attention back to her. "There are hidden cameras in the hallways. We could ask him for security access to see who it was." "Fury isn't really in my good graces right now," Yelena mutters.

"It doesn't matter. If the safety of our organization is at stake, he will let you go through his cameras. He'll go down for SHIELD, you know this." She glances towards the door. "We need to try and take care of this. As soon as possible." Yelena nods, sighing. "I know…I know."

She had to admit that New York City was nice. It had been years since she had been to this place, only with the intention of missions, and even then, she could hardly remember what it was like. But with the money she did have now, she might as well buy a few things before she was on her way to Madripoor. As she walks into a tiny coffee shop that seemed to be below an apartment building, she asks quietly for a cup of coffee black and two cookies – might as well get some good stuff in her prior to a long flight. "What's the name?" The barista asks politely. For a moment, she froze. Her name brought back so many painful memories. So many that she wanted to forget. She hated even thinking of her time in that spiteful, horrible prison. So, she makes a change, right here and now. "Ana," she says softly. "It's Ana." The barista nods, writing her name down on a cup. There, a refreshing new start. She was no longer Anastasia. She was Ana. Fair and square, no ifs ands or buts. She wasn't going to be HYDRA's puppet anymore…even if her memory wasn't the same. She moves to take a seat over in the corner, waiting patiently for her food and drink to be done. In the meantime, she saw someone else come in, a man that looked to be slightly older than her but not by much. He had a jacket and gloves covering his hands. She had to admit he was quite handsome, but the last thing on her mind was to get infatuated with a random stranger. Quietly, she listens to his order, what seemed to be a sweeter coffee with a cookie as well, but then he reaches into his wallet and is unable to produce the money for the second item. He sighs and only pays for the coffee, going to sit down. She glances over at him as she hears her name called. "Ana!" Quickly she gets up, grabbing her hot coffee before looking over at the man, quietly glancing down at his phone. If she wanted to start new, she'd start new. She heads over to where he sits, and he looks up at her in surprise. "I…know you don't know me, but I overheard you and-I'm not good with this, just here." Ana gently lowers the cookie onto the table, and a kind smile comes over his lips before he looks up at her. "You didn't have to do that." Ana shrugs lightly. "I heard about the storm that's going to be happening soon…we all gotta look out for each other, right?" She asks. He chuckles a bit and nods. "Indeed, we do…wish others saw it that way." He looks back up at her, his brow furrowed. She tilts her head. "I'm sorry, you…you just look familiar." "Strange…quite sure I've never met you," she chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of her head. "I must sound so weird," he states, shaking his head. "It's okay," she responds lightly, but she had to admit inwardly the stranger did have a nice smile. A part of her wanted to sit down and talk with him more but she knew she had a flight to catch. "But enjoy the cookie, stranger. I have to get out of here. Stay warm." He offers another smile to her. "You too." Ana smiles at him before heading out the door, holding onto her bag tightly and her coffee in the other hand. For a second, she pauses, glancing back at the coffee shop. Strange…he felt familiar too. But that was impossible. The only person she ever knew was long gone…or at least she thought he was. Maybe she was just crazy. Yeah, she was crazy. Ana shakes her head and quickly heads back towards the street, whistling out for a cab. It was time she got out of this town.

"It's nine at night," Wanda mutters, angrily coming into the briefing room with the other Avengers. "What is it that you all could need at this hour? We're supposed to be resting for the upcoming mission." Fury sighs as everyone takes a seat. "We got a big problem – wait, where's Barnes?" "Who cares?" Tony mutters. Steve glares at him before sighing at Fury. "Bucky went home after the incident this afternoon." "Goddammit – get his ass back here. We can start then. And Yelena – keep your mouth shut!" Yelena rolls her eyes but nods, crossing her arms against her chest. Steve grabs his phone, quickly making the call to Bucky. And hopefully, he wouldn't face the wrath of the Winter Soldier when he returned back here. Thankfully, the snow hadn't started yet but soon enough they'd be snowed in.

"Really?" Bucky asks as he comes in, his brow furrowed. "I literally just settled down to relax." "Sit your whiny ass down," Fury states, gesturing to the spot next to Steve, which he does. "Now that everyone is here, I didn't want to wake you all up or bring you in for nothing. We've had an issue here at the compound. Something that all of you need to be aware of." At that moment, he pulls up what seems to be security came footage, and there in the hallways was a girl.

tag list: @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @sapphirescrolls , @americasass81​ @marvelfansworld , @connie326 , @joannaliceevans-fanficblog , @queenoftheunderdark @navybrat817 and @threeminutesoflife , @lex-the-flex, @world-of-aus, @avintagekiss24 and @the-soulofdevil, @gogolucky13 and @kenzieam and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

[yespolkadotkitty]

So I read Elixir and I love how you write sex pollen and I was wondering if you could do one for our other federal agent, Marcus?

Jump Start

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Unbeta’d writing; soft Marcus. 

Words: 3,500

Summary: What if Marcus only went to DC for a while? And what if he came back for you?

Marcus: Still game for tonight?

You: Are you kidding? Cho and Lisbon have bigged up that Aladdin’s Cave for months. I’ll be there.

Marcus: You sure this is what you want for your birthday?

You: Yes.

Marcus: Okay then… Bring a pillow because I’ll probably bore you to sleep with all the art stories.

When the elevator doors part to reveal Agent Marcus Pike, you’re standing by the door to the lock-up. A smile lights up his face when he sees you, and your heart bumps hard in your chest. He slides his hands in his pocket, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

He ducks his head, a little shy. You know he isn’t always. You’d seen him in the interview room a few times last year, when your team and his had co-run a case. Watched his eyes go hard, his face stern. He’d slammed a file down on the desk inches from a suspect’s face and the surprisingly rough side to him had made you shiver.

Lisbon had sent you a knowing look and you’d ignored her.

She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, and frankly you didn’t want to know what she and Marcus had shared; how close they’d been.

Marcus had gone to DC after that. A year’s undercover work has helped him heal, you think. Get his head back in the game.

He came back for another co-op case, and thankfully, Lisbon and Jane had been away on honeymoon then.

You and Marcus had worked this one together, sometimes late into the night, sharing take-out and anecdotes from other old cases, and then, you’d started hanging out, a little.

He’s interesting. Funny. Friendly. Panty-melting gorgeous.

Heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Cho dropped that it was your birthday at last week’s after-work drinks, and then Marcus had texted offering you a tour of the art lock up. You’d been rota’d off the day Cho and Lisbon got to see it, last year.

Patrick Jane hadn’t been allowed in. Marcus had muttered something about sticky fingers when you’d asked him about it.

“You ready?” He ducks his head to buss your cheek and you meet him halfway, breathing him in, minty gum, sandalwood, and the gourmet coffee he hides in his office. He shared it with you once and it’s like him, memorable, decadent, addictive.

“Ready.” You pull away, reluctantly, wanting him, but he’s never given you any overt hints that he sees you as anything more than a colleague.

He and Lisbon are cordial to each other when they meet, but for all you know, he’s still pining over her.

You daren’t ask; you don’t want to know the answer.

Marcus punches in a code to the first gate, then plucks the rings of keys from his pocket and opens the dinner door of the lock-up, a smile playing on his scruffy face. He grew the patchy beard during his time in DC and it really suits him, highlights his beautiful jaw and makes his soulful eyes a deeper brown.

This time on a Saturday, no one else is around.

“A private museum,” you breathe as you see all the paintings, sculptures and other art set carefully in frames or on desks or custom made plinths.

“Yeah, I always feel like Aladdin.” He scoffs at himself. “I say that every time. What a dork.”

You turn and grin at him. “I like it. You’re an art geek. It’s sexy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Marcus’ brow wings up. “That so?”

“Um, sure.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “So. Tell me some art stories,  Special Agent Pike. What’s new here?”

He brightens, soulful chocolate eyes going wide for just a moment. “Well. There’s this equine sculpture. Maker’s mark is Italian but we seized it during a raid for paintings. Wasn’t expecting it.” He snaps on white gloves and offers you a pair, then gently turns over the statue to show you the swirling signature on the bottom. “We’re still not sure where the other two are.”

You trace a gloved finger over the horse’s detailed mane, wrought perfectly in cherrywood. “Other two?

“Sure. This is part of a set. You can tell here-” he points out a divot in the base that you wouldn’t even have noticed, and another on the opposite end. “And here. The two connecting statues are missing - other horses, I’d guess.”

“Wow.”

Marcus sets the horse down and meets your gaze. “You bored yet?”

“Nope! More!”

He chuckles indulgently. “Okay. Why don’t you choose.”

You wander around the various lock-up cages for a while, examining instruments, more statues, even a huge quilt that looks woven with gold.

After a few moments, a painting about your height catches your eye. It’s an orgy, but tastefully done, painted in shades of amber and gold, the bodies fluid, enchanting.

“I’ve never seen such a… soft depiction of a group bang,” you smile.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That came in last week. Rumour has it, the artist was quite the lothario back in the 1800s. A steady stream of, ah, callers to his penthouse in Florence. The accounts of his sexual prowess are something else.”

“I bet.” You eye the curves of the women in the painting; she looks soft, welcoming, her eyes closed in ethereal bliss. “So, how’d you get this?”

“Allegedly, found in an attic. We went to the house to pick it up. The man who gave it to me - said they just moved in - seemed kinda high.” Marcus’ brow furrows. “Very mellow. Pretty sure he’d been smoking something. He was half-dressed.”

You crouch, examine the painting more closely. “And you didn’t… arrest him?”

Marcus shrugs. “Art’s our deal. I did note the address with a colleague in the DEA, so if it gets flagged again, they’ll investigate.”

Something about the painting keeps you enraptured. You spy a little notch in the frame. “Do you think something’s hidden in here?”

Marcus bends next to you to examine the area you point to. He’s been working today, so he still wears his suit, the red tie the little bit of flash he allows himself on the job. His scent weaves around you, the lick of coffee, the gasp of mint, and something uniquely Marcus.

“It looks like something…. Comes undone?”

You both lean in together, and you edge your gloved finger along the groove in the ornate gold-effect frame.

Marcus does the same from the other end. “Wow,” he breathes. “A hidden compartment?” Then his eyebrows shoot up as part of the frame depresses under his finger, clicking. He grins hugely. “Well, now I really do feel like Aladdin.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a little monkey wearing a fez around here, do you?” You tease.

“Maybe a magic carpet. I-”

He’s cut off when a hissing noise pops from the painting. You and Marcus both lean in to try and hear it more closely, and just when you get close, powder sprays from the frame, light gold in colour and smelling faintly musty.

You cough, reeling back, your hands over your face. “Gross.”

Marcus steps back too, wiping a gloved hand over his face and examining the golden-hued powder on the cotton fabric. “What the hell-”

You slowly sit down on the floor. “I feel… sort of dizzy. Hot.”

Marcus crosses to you, crouching in front of you, and if you didn’t feel so discombobulated, you would appreciate the closeness of him, the amber shot through his irises, the slight curl of his cowlick. “I’ll go get help. Maybe some water?”

You’re burning up. A slow dance starts in the pit of your belly, something that you think was always there, maybe, but intensified now Marcus is so close. “Please don’t go.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Of course.” He smoothes a gloved hand over your hair, and then you see it; the change in his eyes, the way they go dark and hot. “I… what the fuck is this stuff? I feel…”

You clutch at his forearms, feeling the play of lean muscle under his suit. “What if…. What if this was the reason that painter was such a, um, lothario?”

Marcus’ gaze has dropped to your mouth and at your words, he blinks. “What? Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Marcus, I…”

He stands up, backing away. “I can’t be near you. Not when I want… I can’t.”

You reach out to him. “What if you stayed?”

He gazes down at you, longing in those bottomless eyes, and now you can clearly see the outline of the powder’s effect on him. “I can’t. Can’t do that to you.”

A flash of hope pierces the haze descending on you. “You want to? Because of the.. Stuff,” you finish lamely.

An expression of half desire, half pain, sketches itself over Marcus’ features. “I’ve wanted to for a while. That night we worked late.” He’s half-panting now, the fingers of one hand curled around the wall of his side of the lock-up. “Wanted to take you over the desk. I - fuck- can’t do it.”

You make to move. “Marcus-”

“Not like this,” he groans, that voice of sin and sex dropping half an octave, California with a lick of the drawl of Texas. “Not… like this.”

“Don’t go!” You beg. Your insides are burning up for him. If he’d just touch you. Just for a moment.

Marcus is shaking his head, fumbling with the door on this section of the lock-up. You lunge for him but he pulls the door closed, locking you in and him out.

He turns the key, then tosses the ring across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this. Goes against everything.”

“But I want you,” you say. You crawl over to the fencing separating you. “At least… touch my hand.”

You pull your gloves off, slide your fingers through the holes in the mesh.

Marcus takes his gloves off too, tangles his fingers with your the best he can. He sighs deeply. “I had this whole date thing planned. Dinner at an Italian that reminds me of a place I ate at in my gap year.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “So you do really like me.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since I got back from DC, and there you were, pretty as a picture, working late with me, sharing Chinese food. Making me laugh.”

You swallow, wanting him so badly it hurts. Every inch of you burns for him.

“I wanted to go slow,” he rasps out. “I know I jump in. Get overexcited. But with you.. I wanted to do it right. Fuck.” With his free hand he, almost unconsciously, palms himself through his suit pants, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell is this drug?”

You hungrily follow the path of his hand with your gaze. “Lothario, remember?”

“I remember.” Marcus groans, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. He’s sitting awkwardly. “Bastard.”

“Marcus.” You squeeze his hand. “I want this. I want you. It’s lonely up on that white horse.”

He shakes his head, vehement. “It’s….not… not right.”

You press against the caging and just the pressure of the mesh on your breasts makes you moan. “So I can’t touch you, and you won’t touch me, but you also won’t leave me.” You watch him squeeze his eyes shut, look at the tent in his suit pants. “Touch yourself.”

His eyes pop open. “What?”

“If you won’t leave and you won’t… give in to whatever this is, although I want you more than I’ve wanted any man, ever…. Let me see you.”

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he looks at you, big brown eyes considering. He’s weighing every option. Marcus is thoughtful, considered. Considerate. He always thinks two steps ahead, encompasses everyone in plans and strategies.

But he’s blindsided by this, and you can’t say it isn’t sexy as hell to see him unravel this way.

“Please,” you add, holding his gaze.

He squeezes your fingers and the air changes between you, and then he leans heavily against the mesh and you take the opportunity to stroke his hair, a little, and it’s so soft. Feels like silk, and you have to touch more of him, but maybe you’ll get to at least see more, so you will your breathing to calm, just a bit, as he fumbles one-handedly with his belt buckle and then slides the zipper of his suit pants down to reveal plain grey boxers, darkened in the centre by a damp patch, and your throat is so dry.

“Have you…” your heart bumps hard, the rush of seeing new parts of Marcus making you even dizzier. “Ever gotten off in this evidence locker before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Marcus’ gaze stays on your face, earnest. “I can go. I can just go.”

“Please. Please don’t go. Come in.”

“Can’t do that.” He closes his eyes; looks like he is silently praying for the power to resist you. His fingers curl into the parted edge of his suit pants.

“Let me see you?”

He sucks in a deep breath, then exhales shakily. “This is not how I planned to seduce you. Just so you know.”

Your pulse rabbits. “You seduce me every moment, Marcus. With every sweet text. Every time you smile at me. All your art stories. When you say my name. Your voice, oh God.”

Marcus’ hand trembles as he holds your gaze through the wire mesh of the lock-up, and he finally, finally parts the opening of the plain grey boxers and draws himself out, and you just drink him in with your eyes, the shape of him, the swollen tip, his length and girth, the curling hair at his base. It looks as silky as the hair on his head and you hear yourself groan needily.

“Marcus.”

He fists himself, his gaze hot on yours. “Not how I planned this date,” he repeats. “I feel like I’m on fire for you.” He rasps out your name and you watch his hand move, and suddenly it’s too much, the heat between your legs cannot be ignored, and you shove your skirt up and mirror Marcus on the floor.

His head jerks around. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Never knew you had such a potty mouth,” you half-gasp, half-tease.

“For you, I’ll do whatever you want with my mouth.”

You groan at that as you circle your clit with a finger.

Marcus almost growls “Underwear off, I want to see.” His voice, that voice, is gentle-rough, and you think of the day you watched him in the interview room.

“Whatever you say, Agent Pike.”

“Christ.” He’s jacking off in earnest now, his gaze riveted to you as you pull off your underwear with one hand, letting it fall wherever. Your skirt is rucked up around your hips and the fact it’s Marcus watching you is a huge turn on, but honestly you’re not sure if you could have stopped, for anything.

Your combined pants fill the space. You’ve never been so wet. When you slide two fingers inside yourself the sound is obscene.

“It’s.. a wonder..  He ever got… any painting done,” Marcus grits out.

You laugh. “Now?  You wanna talk about art now?”

He huffs. “Art is the reason we’re here. Like this.” Then he sucks in a breath and you look down at him, his balls drawn up tight, his cock wet with his own pre-come.

“Marcus Matthew Pike, I swear to God, if you don’t get in here right now, I will never ever speak to you again.”

He hesitates.

“I swear on Van Gogh’s ear,” you add, your internal muscles fluttering.

Marcus half-yanks up his pants, scrabbles for the key. The seconds feel like hours until he appears again, boxers and pants around his knees, shirt tails hanging, and he opens the mesh door and you yank him in and kiss him and you tumble to the floor together, and Marcus grabs both your wrists and pins them above you with one hand, his face dark and determined, and it makes your heart pound.

“Please,” you grate out. “Marcus. I need you.” You spread your legs and try to hook your feet over his calves, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Sweetheart, not yet.” He curls your fingers into the wire of the mesh. “Hold on. Don’t… don’t touch me. I wanna make it good for you, first.”

You hear yourself keen his name as he shucks off his clothes from the waist down, then slides down your body and puts that gorgeous mouth to work. Your favourite thing he did with his mouth until now was talking, but this-

Maybe he’s writing his name, maybe he’s writing a sonnet, but whatever it is, the way he curls his tongue is obscene, and you don’t know if it’s partly the drug, but when he puts two fingers inside you, you come so hard you almost black out. And then lust rears its head again and you grab for him, carding one hand through his hair and cupping him with the other, and he’s slick in your palm and the ridges and heat of his cock feel so good.

“Marcus.” You fist a hand in his hair, pull a little, and he groans and pants, and you take the opportunity to pump him in your fist until he swears under his breath.

"Condom. Oh fuck. Condom."

He hesitates, then drops a soft kiss on your lips - your first, you think, a bit giddy - and you taste yourself, and he licks into your mouth and whispers your name and it's pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then he extricates himself, rummages in his suit pants, and as soon as he has the foil square in his hand you grab for him, pulling him down on top of you.

"After this," you murmur, "you're gonna bend me over the desk." And you roll the condom down his dick and he lets out a long, slow breath and pushes inside you and it's everything.

Everything inside you quiets for a moment that stretches as he starts to move, caging you in with his braced forearms, and you look into his dark chocolate eyes and his heart is on his face, with Marcus it always is. It's your favourite thing about him.

He nibbles at your lips as you make love to eachother, and you hook your legs around his hips to stop him pulling out too much. You want him close, want to feel his skin under your hands. The buttons of his shirt rasp against your dress, and if you were more aware you might think it's ridiculous, him bringing you to orgasm with you both half dressed in the floor of the art squad lock-up, but you can't care. Not when his cock hits you right there, and then you're keening his name and he tumbles over the cliff edge with you, pressing hard in those final thrusts as your muscles milk him.

You curl around him. "Marcus."

He sighs, presses his forehead to yours. "Was that… are you okay?"

You chuckle lazily. "I've never been more okay."

He cuddles you close, nosing at your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. "Christ, what is this stuff? I could go again."

At his words desire rears its head. "There must be a desk in here somewhere, right?"

And his eyes go hot.

And that's how you find yourself bent over a desk recovered from an abandoned shipping off, the edges intricately gilded. You cling to them as Marcus fucks you hard and fast, just the way he'd fantasised about, and it's so good that you sob his name over and over.

Afterwards he cuddles you so gently, stroking your hair as he whispers praises about how good you felt around him, how next time he's gonna give you a bed covered in rose petals.

You shake your head, kissing him deeply, helping him into his jacket. "You're all I want, Marcus. Any way I can have you."

A flush colours his cheeks as he cups your cheeks. "Dinner? Let me take you out to dinner."

"I'd rather have it in bed. Have you in bed."

His eyes go wide for a second. "The drug.."

"This isn't the drug and you know it." You loop your arms around his neck. "It just jump-started us. Never been so grateful to a horny nineteenth century painter."

Marcus laughs out loud, hugs you, then releases you to hold your hand, tug you towards the elevator. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?"

Happiness unfurls slowly inside you. "I could stand to hear it again."

Tagging the Pedro pals! @soldade @beccaplaying @heatherbel @mourningbirds1 @alldatalost @songsformonkeys @agirllovespasta @nelba @chews-erotically @mrschiltoncat @gamingaquarius @alienprincesspoop @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @agentpike @jaime1110 @thegreenkid @pedropascallion   @mrsparknuts @buckstaposition @winters-buck @oloreaa @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @holographic-carmen @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @poenariuniverse @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @kindablackenedsuperhero @abuttoncalledsmalls @f0rever15elf

And @arch-venus25 did you wanna be tagged in Pedro stuff?

[tellerluna-stories]

the muse and the melody

PAIRING: ganyu x reader

GENRE: fluff! established relationship, nonverbal communication.

TW/CW: n/a.

A/N: this is a birthday gift I wrote for my trusty co-op player and #1 beta reader :DD happy day of exiting the womb, elder sibling~~

Composing music was truly a thorn in your side when you didn’t even know what to write in the first place.

You run a hand through your unruly hair and sigh discontentedly, looking at the mess of papers before you. Earlier in the day you had painstakingly worked to set up the most productive atmosphere and distraction-free environment that you could, with the foolproof plan to write a masterpiece in one afternoon. Now it was late in the evening, and the sheets of paper that you thought would overflow with music had remained pristinely blank.

Drawing a hand over your face, you cast a glance at the clock on your desk— she should be home anytime soon.

The faint sound of the front door opening and closing is enough to jolt you out of your misery, and you hear a familiar voice call out, “I’m home.”

Like magic, the sound of that soft, lovely voice dispels the gloom hanging over you— hastily, you collect your wits and scrabble at the disorderly heap of papers in an attempt to organize them.

Footsteps shuffle closer and closer to your study, and Ganyu opens the door just as you finished stacking them neatly.

“Hi.”

She blinks at you and gives you a soft smile in greeting. “Hello.”

“It’s really late.” You gently lead Ganyu to sit down on the bench before the piano— the chair of your desk would be too hard and uncomfortable for her. “If I’d known you would come home this late at night, I’d have gone to pick you up.”

She dismisses the thought with a shake of her head, her snowy blue locks flying every which way. “Ah, there’s no need for that… I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” Smoothing her hair, you sit beside her and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “But I just get worried, that’s all.”

Ganyu doesn’t reply, but you can hear the unspoken words that she cannot find the courage to say yet— I didn’t want to bother you by asking you to come at such an hour. I’m sorry for making you worry, but I’m also grateful that you care for me enough to worry about me.

You wished you could find the courage to verbalize your reply to her, but in that aspect the two of you were too similar; words were often insufficient to fully communicate your intentions and feelings. To make up for this, you sought to express your emotions in your music, while Ganyu chose to communicate them through her diligence in everything she did.

So in order to tell her the words you wanted to say, you turn to face the piano and ask, “Do you want me to play for you?”

Her eyes light up with childlike delight, and that’s more than enough of an answer for you.

“I should warn you though,” you remark as you lift the cover off of the black and white keys, “I’ve been in musical burnout the whole day, so I don’t really know what to play.”

“That’s alright.” Ganyu shifts to sit closer to you, burying her head in your shoulder. Her arms loosely wrap around your waist, as if by instinct— she must be really tired today, you think. “I like to listen to everything you play.”

Your heart thumps against your ribcage noisily- she really had a knack for taking you by surprise like this.

Quickly, you try to distract her by changing the topic before she notices your flustered expression. “Was it tiring at work?”

“Mm.”

“Did you remember to eat the lunch I packed for you?”

“Mm.”

“You didn’t take all the workload on yourself again, did you?

“…”

“…Ganyu.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t take all of it this time. Just… three-fourths of it.”

“Ganyu.”

She gives you a look with those big, innocent eyes of hers, and the tempo of your heartbeat changes from andante to allegro in a split second. Whether Ganyu is doing it deliberately or not, you know a losing battle when you see one.

“Fine, fine, I won’t nag you about it. I’ll just play for you as your in-house musician and composer.”

With a sigh, you turn to the keyboard and ruffle your hair— what to play, what to play. What sort of tune could your empty head pull out of a hat? What was it that you wanted to say to Ganyu? You wanted your song to be perfect, a masterpiece just solely for her- she deserved nothing less than that.

But how? What volume would you play at? Did you want to have a more upbeat tune, or would you have something soft and sweet? Would she prefer more complex progressions of notes, or was simplicity the way to go?

‘I like to listen to everything you play.’

That single sentence was so direct, so simply phrased— and yet it washed away the angry buzzing of your internal voice like footprints in the sand.

Whether you just play whatever comes to your mind at the moment or you’re drilling exercises for defter fingers, she always chose to sit next to you and listen in reverent silence. Even when you play a wrong note, even if you forget what musical phrase comes next, Ganyu still looks enraptured by your music— and it’s because you are the only one who can play it.

Knowing this gives you confidence and puts your mind at ease; now you’re sure of what you want to say.

Thank you for coming home safely. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I still want to try and protect you. I wish you weren’t so insecure about yourself; I want to tell you how much I cherish you, whether it’s the person who you were in the past, who you are now, or who you will be in the future.

Bit by bit, the words in your heart come together and flow into the melody— any trace of creative block had long since disappeared, replaced with the fire of inspiration that all artists thrive upon. Your instrument became as your voice, and the black and white keys unlocked all the things you kept locked away, the words you wanted to say but just couldn’t. Though they were tentative and unsure, you hoped that your feelings would come across.

“It’s a little bit rough, considering that I made that up on the spot just now.” Your voice wavers slightly— you’d been so absorbed in your playing that you were out of breath. “But… what do you think?”

There was no reply; her deep breaths tickled against the side of your neck, indicating she was fast asleep.

With a shake of your head accompanied with a rueful smile, you shift so that you can wrap an arm around her shoulders— the Liyue Qixing had no small amount of tasks to be done, and yet Ganyu accomplished more in a day than fifty employees could in a week. It was no wonder she came home each evening completely exhausted.

But I wish you’d take better care of yourself, you think as you look at her sleeping face. Her eyelashes flutter lazily as she dozes— knowing her, she was probably dreaming of her schedules for the next day.

“Goodnight, Ganyu.”

Carefully, so you wouldn’t disturb her, you carry her to the couch and drape a blanket over her. She’d have to go to work in a few hours, so it was best to have her nearby so that you could wake her.

As for what you would do till then… inspiration still burned through your blood like adrenaline, and music wouldn’t write itself. You had so many things to say, to tell her through your music— after all, it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks. If the heart overflows with love, then it is only natural that the mouth will speak of love.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

We're Stewards of Our Land: The Rise of Female Farmers

'I was always fascinated by getting things out of the ground’

Sinead Fenton

Grows vegetables and edible flowers at Aweside Farm, East Sussex

Sinead Fenton is on an early lunch break, hiding from the sun. “It’s ridiculously intense, so I think we’re going to call it a day and crack back on in the evening,” she says. Fenton and her partner, Adam Smith, have been putting in beds and getting ahead on groundwork for next year. This year, there will be no commercial crops on the couple’s 4.5-acre plot.

They signed the papers on their farm last November and moved onto the land in March. Around the time they needed to make decisions about how they’d manage their first harvest, lockdown happened. With restaurants and florists – their main clients – out of action for the foreseeable future, they made the decision not to sow seeds but concentrate on opening up the land. “We were going to do it over three or four years, so we’re squeezing three years of work into this year, so we can focus on growing next year,” Fenton says.

She and Smith cut their scythes at Audacious Veg, a 0.1-acre plot in Hainault, at the end of the Central Line between Essex and London. Shortly after volunteering at the allotment in 2017, they heard the project was about to finish: “Naively, with about three weeks’ worth of growing experience, we decided that we’d take it on and get the produce to chefs.”

Smith worked in insurance accounting and while Fenton most recently worked in software and food policy, her background was in geology. “I came at farming from an activist point of view,” she says. “I was always fascinated by getting things out of the ground, but that is a destructive industry. Farming is nicer because I can do something for the system instead of taking everything from it.”

There was a lot of insecurity around the project. Land is contentious, especially in London, and land law is difficult and expensive to negotiate for those with no farming background. “Adam and I are both from cities – I’m from London, he’s from Essex. We’re from low-income families, and we had no access to farms growing up,” Fenton explains. “It’s basically impossible to get on the land, because it’s so expensive, or passed down through generations.”

They got the land for Aweside through the Ecological Land Co-op, which buys fields designated by Defra as only being good for arable crops, then splits them up to create smallholdings. Aweside is neighbours with a veg-box scheme, and waiting for others who’ll transform what once was a 20-acre maize field into a cluster of small farms rich with biodiversity. Now Fenton and Smith have a 150-year lease, and no worries that what they create will be taken away.

It’s not yet a permanent home. Fenton says they’ll be living in a caravan for a few years: “Another part of land law in the UK that makes land inaccessible is that if you want to live on your land you have to go through five years of proving your business is profitable, viable and that there is a functional need for you to live there.” Having livestock is an easy way to pass the test, but because Aweside is a vegan farm, Fenton and Smith need to cultivate and show they use every bit of plot.

It’s daunting but Fenton is excited about having a blank slate to work with. “There’s so much more to food than what supermarkets tell us to eat,” she says, explaining that they’ll grow varieties at risk of extinction, or that aren’t commonly grown in a mass market food system. “Seed diversity and plant genetics are serious issues.”

The three principles the couple work to are: more flowers, more trees, thriving soil. They’re working no-dig, putting compost directly on the ground and letting the soil life mix everything over time. They’re pesticide-free and are counting on the fact that the more diversity they have in the system, especially with a high proportion of flowers to pollinators and insects, the fewer problems they’ll face.

“Socially, economically and environmentally, something needs to change. Things have been done the same way by the same people for a long time,” says Fenton of the farming industry’s need for greater diversity. “I learned to grow on an allotment site where there are lots of different things growing at once. Bringing that approach into sites like this is needed – the industry needs it to keep itself relevant.”

'I'm hoping this will be seen as quite a cool career… even if it’s not’

Abi Aspen Glencross

Head of grains at Duchess Farms, Hertfordshire

It was, Abi Aspen Glencross was well aware, an odd, even inopportune time to launch a crowdfunding campaign. In June, with the country still locked down, Duchess Farms asked for support to buy dehulling, cleaning and milling equipment. The Hertfordshire farm needed about £16,000, and the money would go towards boosting the production of ancient and heritage grains for making flour.

“A lot of crowdfunders have been for charity or ‘please keep our restaurant open’,” says the 28-year-old Glencross, head of grains – or “senior flour nerd” – at Duchess Farms since 2019. “We felt a bit bad, but we lost a lot of our business overnight when all the restaurants closed and we were like: ‘God, we hope we don’t go under.’ It was quite a scary time for everyone.”

Still, if we have learned one thing from Covid-19, when times are hard, British people get baking. Perhaps inspired by countrywide shortages of flour, maybe invigorated by a new interest in left-field, older wheats such as einkorn and emmer, Duchess Farms sprinted to its target. “We’ve just done some ordering of equipment this morning,” says Aspen, when we speak in July. “It’s been a tough time for everyone but it has cascaded into some beautiful things and we’re just so thankful.”

Glencross’s path to farming was circuitous. She studied chemical engineering, but while her classmates were heading off for jobs at ExxonMobil and Procter & Gamble, she was more of “a hippy at heart”. She decided she wanted to learn more about soil and its role in food production. This led her to Blue Hill Stone Barns, Dan Barber’s pioneering farm-to-table restaurant in the Hudson Valley, north of New York. She spent four months working on the farm and in the bakery, receiving a crash course in ancient grains – an obsession of Barber’s. But the moment Glencross knew she herself wanted to farm came in 2016 in a field in Hertfordshire. She was with John Cherry, who was showing her around Weston Park Farms, 2,500 acres of land he maintains with minimal fertiliser use and zero tillage.

“We were walking around the fields of wheat and I just said: ‘Where does all this go? There’s so much of it,’” Glencross says. “And John goes: ‘Oh probably for animal feed. It’s a consistent market, they’ll take it, it’s easy, even if we don’t earn that much money from it.’ And I was like: ‘This is crazy.’ And that was the beginning of me getting on this grain bender because I was like: ‘Why can’t we grow these grains organically and not feed them to animals?’ So I realised I’d have to start a business, because there were not very many people doing that.”

Heritage grains can be harder to produce in vast quantities – einkorn, especially, is “a bitch to harvest” – but they do have advantages over conventional wheats. They typically have deep roots and grow tall, which means they shade out weeds and do not require chemical sprays. The end product is more nutritious and then there’s the taste. Since 2017, Glencross has run a roving supper club called the Sustainable Food Story with Sadhbh Moore, and Duchess Farms has worked closely with bakeries such as E5 Bakehouse in east London and Gail’s, and restaurants including Doug McMaster’s Silo. “Heritage grains are delicious: when you stop growing for yield and you start growing for quality the flavour is insane,” says Glencross.

Learning to farm from scratch has not been straightforward, but you sense that’s a big part of the appeal for Glencross. “There’s all these decisions the farmer makes throughout the year and why he sprays and why he doesn’t,” she says. “You realise that most people get up, sit at a computer all day and if they press the wrong button, they just delete it. When you’re a farmer, you plant at the wrong time of year and tomorrow it washes away your whole crop.”

Glencross acknowledges that it is almost unprecedented for women to run arable farms. She struggles to name a single other example in the UK. She also notes wryly that men dominate all the farming conferences, saying: “They have a wife but it’s always the men who have written the book and given the presentation.”

With more role models, Glencross hopes things will change. “I’m not cool in any way, but I’m a reasonably young lady,” she says, laughing. “And so when people say: ‘What do you do? Oh, you’re a farmer. Maybe I could do that …’ So I’m hoping that it might become seen as quite a desirable, almost cool career.” A pause: “Even if it’s very much not cool.” 

[angelguk]

→ (better) left unsaid — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jeongguk

word count: 2.8k

genre: angst + pining + best friends au + yes i stole a whole song from terrace house 2019-2020 (thank you kenny for the lyrics and risako for inspiring the song) + lead singer of an indie band!jk + based on (roughly) 2 requests + i slightly altered the song kenny wrote please don’t judge me 4 my song writing skills + listen to the soundtracks it enhances the experience

soundtracks: why can’t i have you, gloria laing + angela, flower face

Jeongguk looks ethereal. Even from your position in the crowd, you can’t help but slip into a state of awe over the way the golden stage lights falter through his tousled curls. He glows, up there. An angel with a guitar and a charming smile. The music moves with him, gliding from the swift skip of his hand across the strings, coaxing out a melody that fluxes through you. You’ve heard this song a million times - he’d played it just for you before he ever hopped on the stage and began singing out those lyrics for everyone else in this cramped hall. And yet, tonight feels like the very first time. Neither of you had anticipated this type of turn out. In this small town, events like this made little impact; nobody cared about a loud boy and his even louder band. They were an invisible ripple in the lake of ordinary life. But not tonight. Tonight they are everything. There are people in this hall that you’ve never even seen before. You’d heard mumbles about someone driving in from the town over. Whispers of someone mentioning streaming them on Spotify. A girl squealing over a picture Taehyung posted on his Instagram moments before the show kicked off. It’s strange, gazing up at the boy you’ve known for over a decade in this sea of bodies that jostle you around. You feel a little faceless, a little distant. Like a lump of driftwood. But your eyes don’t leave him - they can’t. He just looks so perfect up there. Like he belongs on that stage, beneath the heat of those lights, singing his heart out through songs he wrote on the floor of your bedroom.

It’s bittersweet. This moment. And perhaps that’s why you start crying.

You don’t notice the tears until some girl nudges your shoulder, wordlessly passing over a packet of pocket tissues. Her gaze is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand instead.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” She tries instead. She has to lean in to your space to utter those words over the sharp rapping of Taehyung’s drums. Jeongguk silvery timbre can't drown out the shrill of her voice in your ear.

“Yeah. They are.” You choke over those words but you act like you don’t. The wan smile on her lips falters for a second before she swiftly picks it up. And then she’s opening her mouth again. You’d like it if she closed it instead. Something about this conversation is tainting the brilliance of this moment.

“My friends and I are gonna try and meet them after the show. Do you wanna come with us? I bet that’ll cheer you up.” You barely hid the scoff that slips from your throat. The little “I know them” sits smugly on your tongue. But you don’t want to give her that piece of information. She’d begin pestering for behind stage access immediately. And from her incapacity to read the hostility in your gaze you can tell she's persistent. That or just incredibly dim. 

“No, thank you,” you say instead, handing back the pocket tissues. It’s in that instance that you properly take a look at her. Dainty smile, long straight hair, bright brown eyes and a figure you can notice without your gaze even dipping downwards. Jeongguk would like her. He always ended up liking girls like her.

She just gawks at you, a brief moment of confusion clouding over her features before she huffs and turns back to her friends. You don’t miss the way she pointedly aims her back in your direction, despite your bodies being right next to each other. You can’t even bother to pretend to care because you don’t. Your eyes float back to the stage before your brain can even register it. The song is nearly over, beads of sweat already forming along his hairline. Even with exhaustion dragging over him, Jeongguk looks good. He always looks good. Effortlessly so. And when he finishes the song with a little shake of his head and a pleasant note that pulls a vein along his neck with his eyes locked on the crowd, you feel it. A dangerous spark that pangs through your chest. Fast and hard and aching to be heard. You deafen it with the earsplitting roars of the audience, a remark from the girl beside you sailing over your head.

“He’s so hot.”

The short sentence is possessive enough for you to guess her intentions for attempting to go backstage with clarity. But she’s not wrong either. Jeongguk is hot. He’s always been hot. Hot even when he accidentally stained his scalp purple when he dyed it for the first time. Hot when he’s got an old stain marring his grey sweatpants. Hot when he’s camped on your couch playing video games when his house is right next door and the couch in there is empty. Hot when he’s dumping a whole pack of Hot Cheetos down his throat. Hot when he’s crawling into your lap, requesting for a post maths homework cuddle session for recovery purposes. Hot when he flings rocks at your window and asks you to come outside when he could just send you a text.

(Yes, he broke your window once. No, your mom didn’t come for his neck like she would have if you had done it - all because Jeongguk was the son she never had).

It makes the pang in your heart hurt even more. Because you’ve always looked at Jeongguk through that lens - even though you tried your best to never see him that way. And you’re sure he’s never seen you in that light. 

Except once - once you thought you saw him look at you like that. Like you were his entire world. And he never wanted to lose you. You remember it vividly; it's embedded in your memory. A slither of hope that spurred the fire in your heart. Just that one moment. It’s all you ever needed. It’s all you ever wanted.

“New York?” There was a lilt of incredulity in his tone, followed by a quick straight snap of his spine as he examined your gaze. “You’re leaving for New York?”

You hadn't been able to say yes, your throat sealed with sentiments you’d never dared to express. So you hummed instead, the minute sound accompanied with a brief nod of your head. 

He’d fallen silent, still looking at you as if you’d sprouted a second head and started levitating. And then his eyes hit the floor, soft curls tumbling into his line of vision, a strange stillness descended upon the both of you.

“New York.” He’d said it again as if murmuring it would make it any less true.

“It’s a great school, Jeongguk. I didn’t even think I would get in.” That’s a lie. You did think you had a chance to get in. You would have cried if you’d opened the email to a rejection letter instead of an offer one. But the despondency that had slunk over Jeongguk’s face made you hold onto your words. The fact that he still hadn’t congratulated you spoke wonders.

“Oh. Well, congratulations.” He had read the expectancy in your tone but there’s no jubilance in his. And when he next glanced up his gaze was guarded, like he’s hiding something from you. “If there’s anyone that deserves it, it’s you.” But he said it with his eyes trained on the wall behind you.

For some reason that didn’t feel compliment. And when you had attempted to launch into an explanation about the school and its perfect Co-Op program and all the things you couldn’t wait to experience, Jeongguk had halted you, spiralling into a monologue about the new song he’d written the day before. You couldn’t get another word in before he tugged his guitar into his lap and strummed out a melody. He was usually like that - but just for that day. Just for that one day, you expected more from him. 

And then he’d given it to you. When he finally had to leave, he’d looked at you for a moment. A long moment. Something swimming behind the honey of his eyes. The sigh that fell from his lips was heavy, weighted down with words you felt trapped in your chest. The hug he’d pulled you in was tight as if Jeongguk was grappling for the words he longed to put his thoughts into. His chest pressed flushed into yours, an odd erratic beating echoing between the two of you. But the moment his arms lifted from your waist, whatever was ruminating in his head was gone. Vanished into thin air; nothing but a phantom in your room.

Remembering that doesn’t help the pain gripping at your heart. Because today was your last day at home. You had to leave tomorrow in order to make it in time for Orientation Week. This was your very last night with him - the ending of your last summer with him. Summer had been summer; saturated with memories you’ll reminisce over on nights alone, even before your age reveals itself in the wrinkles of your skin. But something about it had felt lacklustre. Perhaps it was the distance Jeongguk kept from you, a sudden barrier erected in the middle of your friendship. He'd spent less time in your home, preferring to crash over at his band-mates or just avoid you altogether. You still gravitated towards each other whenever you happened to be at the same place, an invisible thread stringing your souls together. Yet, Jeongguk still held you afar, despite your attempts to tug him closer. Which is all you ever wanted to do - hold him closer.

The final soft note of the song is strung out, suspended over the crowd like reminiscents of silage. It coaxes you out of your thoughts, gaze gravitating towards the stage. There’s a jolt in your system when your eyes lock on Jeongguk’s. He’s staring at you hard, a strange determination lingering in the way he looks at you. You don’t even hear it, the thunderous applause that spills from the crowd too caught in deciphering what his eyes are telling you. Jeongguk does though, body falling lax at approval from the audience. His fingertips stay fiddling with his guitar as he launches into a transition speech, the smile on his face radiant. You let the words drone over you, mind commemorating the happiness that illuminates his face at this moment. Nothing can describe the bashful blush rising underneath his golden skin and the bright star-like glimmer in his eyes but you try your best to commit this to your memory. Jeongguk looks effervescent up there. Burning like a star on the verge of a supernova.

“This next song,” Jeongguk states, the baritone in his voice filling your chest. “Is for someone I hold dear to my heart. It’s a new one, and I hope you love it as much as I do.” That catches your attention. Jeongguk hadn’t played anything new at rehearsal. He hadn’t shown you any new lyrics either. There’s a sudden heat building in your chest - but you can’t distinguish whether it’s from betrayal or excitement.

Jeongguk gaze skips over you, and then he sighs, a soft sound that echoes from his microphone. “Sometimes, I find it hard to say what I feel. Especially when I feel strongly about something - or someone. I end up keeping it all to myself. But, I would just like to say, to the person who this song is for, I mean every word of it. I hope you don’t mind me saying it in a song,” There’s a huff of a laugh fumbling out of his mouth, “I just can’t find the courage to say it to you in person.”

It’s like your brain stops. Every function halted. You don’t miss the pointed glance he gives your way before he starts strumming again. Taehyung follows the rhythm, his drums producing a beat that syncopates with the thrumming of your heart. You’ve never heard him play those chords before, your palms already growing clammy as your eyes glue themselves to the stage. 

When his mouth drops open, a delicate note gliding from his lips, your heart stops. 

“Those nights you can’t sleep

I can see you’re feeling 

Alone tonight, alone tonight

In exchange for those dark nights,

Without shining stars,

I’ll be your light, be your light.”

Your head feels hot; eyes warm with the torrent of tears you struggle to hold back. The crowd is silent, swaying along to the comforting sound of Jeongguk’s voice. You can barely breathe, throat clogged with the myriad of emotions you can’t organise in your head because all you can hear is the loud frenetic beating of your heart. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk’s gaze does not stray from your own, steady despite the tremor you notice in the fingers plucking out the chords of this song. Your song. It’s evident from his direct stare that he’s singing it to you. And you don’t know what to make of it. There are too many people in this jammed hall for you to let your feelings reveal themselves, but the faint smile tugging at your lips is enough for Jeongguk to keep going, a strange burst of confidence ebbing through his chest. He projects the chorus loud and clear. The words gently glide through the air, wrapping themselves around your heart.

“Wherever you are,

Whatever time of day,

I’ll run to you,

I’ll be there for you,   

Tonight and forever.”

You’re suddenly aware of the new wetness covering your cheeks, a tiny sob drifting from your throat as your palm roughly wipes at the tears in your eyes. It’s sudden, this ardent rush of adoration that saturates your system. So fast that you nearly choke again, blatantly ignoring the pointedly appalled look the girl beside you throws in your direction. The bow of your head is automatic, palm holding back the sob that threatens to escape your lips. He’s still singing, pushing past the own clog in this throat because he’ll never get another chance to tell you this again. It hurts, even from up here, seeing the shudder of your shoulders as you cry. He’d noticed it during the previous song, your tears. The doubt in him had reared its head and Jeongguk nearly tossed this song from the set list. But it had taken a lot of determination on his part to pen out the things you make him feel. He’d never been able to tell you this but Jeongguk loves you. Loves you more than anything he’s ever had the chance to love. He’d first picked up the guitar because you hadn’t been able to stop talking about Hyunmin’s guitar skills after summer camp when you were nine. And it had just spiralled from there; Jeongguk doing anything and everything to get him to look at you as more than a friend but you never did. Not once. As a result, he’d given up. Attempted to erase the lens of love from his vision whenever he looked at you. It had been hard but Jeongguk had learnt how to keep that part of him buried, too afraid to lose the most significant person in his life with the greed of his heart. Then you told him you were leaving, and he felt himself shatter into pieces.

There are people that you think are going to be a part of your life forever, simply because you wouldn’t be you without them there. Jeongguk thought that about you. You’d seen all of him; the good, the ugly and the terrible. And you had stayed. Even when Jeongguk didn’t want to be around himself, you were there. So for you to just leave - leave like you didn't need him in your life in the first place, hit like a punch to the face. He’d tried to brush it off, smiled and congratulated you when he found out, but everything in him wanted to ask you to stay. Just stay, for him. But he knows he can’t do that - doesn’t have the right to do that. You’re too luminous for this small town, and you deserve to shine with the other stars in this galaxy, not fade away into darkness.

And yet, he still aches to ask you to stay. But he'd never do that. It'd taken him over a decade to tell you that he loved you. And he was doing it indirectly too. Jeongguk doesn't have the heart to be that selfish. Even though he's hurting inside, he knows the best thing he can do is keep that little desire to himself. Let the hand holding you tight grow loose.

“How can I mirror, 

Everything you pour into me?

If there’s nothing more I can do

Then I need to set you free.”

[chipsfics]

Part 1 - Introduction/Invitation

Part one of my currently-unnamed Inanimate Insanity fanfiction :)! Feat. Tissues and Yinyang. Some shipping but not a whole lot ;)

Rated: PG (A few heavy themes)

Hope you enjoy and much more to come !! :D

~~~~

Unlike Tissues, Yinyang knew he was going to be eliminated. Yin did, at least. He figured after a certain amount of time, the viewers just saw him as... Annoying. He had used up his entertainment value- Inanimate Insanity had packaged and squeezed dry his "quirks" of any and all comedy until they were just problems again. He was sure his other half knew elimination was at least a possibility- He was probably too preoccupied with his own thoughts, which sometimes blended together with Yin's. A lot of... "Everyone here hates me," and "I hate everyone here." Seemed like the situation was stressing them both out.

Weeks later, After they were all freed from the closet, Yinyang watched the episode where he was eliminated. Yinyang cried, not because he lost, but something kind of got tangled in his brain watching the way he acted. He was grinding his teeth watching the playback, Yang holding back tears and Yin letting them flow freely. If only, if only, if only. Needless to say, he didn't really remember a lot about what happened cooped up in that tiny closet. He mostly hid in the corner and tried not to grind his teeth down to his gums. Tissues, on the other hand, barely knew what was going on. One place to another, off a plane, rushing from iceberg to dodgeball court, grass field to bleachers- Next thing he knew he sneezed himself through a portal and ended up cooped up in a closet. Once the dizzy feeling cleared and he ended up face down, alone, in an empty closet with a locked door- One thing was abundantly clear: He lost. As usual. When another contestant stepped through the portal, the relief he felt was overwhelming- and as the closet filled up with eliminated contestants, the sense of relief he felt was replaced by self loathing and shame- Everyone else pretty much all hated him. As usual.

When they finally got a breath of fresh air, space to move around, personal rooms and even a breakfast juice bar- After everyone who came in contact with him was thoroughly sprayed down by Soap, nobody hated him anymore. They just didn't talk to him. Although, when he walked in the hallway, Soap would follow a safe distance behind him and clean where he last stepped with disinfectant. That didn't really help his self-esteem.

One quiet afternoon, everyone was still trying to settle into their new (but much nicer) living situations, Tissues got paired with the roommate who hated him the most. One Trophy horseplay, who was the one who stomped his face in more than a couple times while stuck in the closet. Of course, due to the technological advancements of melife, Mephone brought him back immediately after he got the death notification- bzz-ding, Tissues died again, to Trophy's frustration. Living with Trophy, he tried to keep all of his stuff in one corner- And he was kind of being shoved over by Trophy's ever-growing collection of sports equipment. Apparently he had nowhere to put it except for cluttering up their shared bedroom. He didn't have much things anyway- and he spent most of his time in the front game room. Tissues, Yinyang, and a few wanderers in and out every day in that same room, that same dinky game system, the same 4 outdated platforming games. He didn't remember the names of those old things, and he wasn't great at them anyway- It'd surprise you, but he didn't have the best hand-eye-coordination. 

Yinyang was also bad at them. He'd argue and curse and throw the controller and tug at the wires, Tissues would follow slowly behind him in co-op play. It was fun to play with someone who had the same skill level as he did, and it seemed like Yinyang had mellowed out a little from his appearance on the show- Having a bit more freedom and alone time seemed to make Yang calm down and Yin become cheerier and more friendly. If Tissues could say one Inanimate Insanity contestant was his friend- It was Yinyang. They had something big and terrifying in common- They were both freaks. The unlovable tend to find a way to love each other.

~~~~

Yaaaawn. Tissues stretched and looked at the clock- 11:30, about 3 hours earlier than when he usually woke up. He wiped the drool off his face, got up and feverishly brushed his teeth. He realized the breakfast bar was still open for another 30 minutes- More like 25 now that he'd dragged himself out of bed. OJ wasn't the world's most attentive hotel owner, but the breakfast bar seemed like something he was passionate about. There were rumors that he refilled the cereal dispensers by himself and doesn't let anyone else do it. Soap always threw a fit when someone else did the chores for her, although she seemed to have a quiet respect for OJ's breakfast bar. Tissues took the elevator down- He didn't trust himself to go down the stairs because of his vertigo. Lo and behold, someone else bumped into his hand reaching for the down arrow. It was Yinyang! 

"O-oh, go ahead, you first," Tissues said bashfully. 

"No, you first!" Yin chirped. "I assume we're both going down?" 

"Yeah, I'm gonna try and catch the last wave of breakfast, guyse. I'm not usually up this... SNIFF. Early," Tissues said, and jammed his finger into the down button, which started to glow a faint yellow.

"Wait, is the free breakfast thing still open?" Yinyang said, "The one where you can make waffles with the little do-it-yourself waffle iron?" 

"Is that what that is? I thought it was just a weird smoothie dispenser. I thought the stuff that came out of it tasted like waffle batter," He sniffed.

Yinyang laughed. Tissues would have been peeved, but it didn't seem like Yinyang was laughing AT him. That, or just the fact that his laugh was crisp and clear as a ringing bell. Tissues didn't think he heard him genuinely laugh a whole ton of times. It was nice. 

As they waited for the elevator to come up, Tissues noticed one of Yinyang's eyes blinking and drooping. Yang's side seemed to be sleepier than Yin's- His body lagging to one side until he had to jerk back into a standing position. Was it possible for one half to fall asleep and the other half to stay awake? DING. Tissues' train of thoughts was interrupted by the elevator door sliding open. They stepped in, and for the entire ride down Tissues fought as hard as he could not to sneeze- In a closed place like an elevator, that could be very annoying. More annoying than usual. The elevator ride was mostly silent and awkward- It seemed that Yang almost tried to fight on what button to press, but he was too tired and hungry to cause any trouble this early. It was a Saturday after all, the slowest days in the hotel, and once they made it downstairs to the breakfast bar, there didn't seem to be many contestants looking for something to eat so late. Tissues grabbed a paper plate and put a blueberry muffin on it, and got a small paper cup of orange juice. He noticed Yin and Yang were having some sort of quiet argument about what to get for a drink. Tissues couldn't help but overhear-

"Coffee." Yang spoke in a harsh whisper. "Not today, Water." Yin replied. "Coffee." "Juice, then." "Ok, Fine." "Apple juice." "I want orange." "Not today. Apple Juice feels more..." "Pure?" "Yeah." "Bull." "Let's just get our food, I'm too tired to argue." "..." "..." "Me too." 

Tissues seemed distracted, until Yinyang moved down the line and bumped him further down. He looked away, face flushed, and moved to the couch, flicking on the TV- He felt like he had just intruded on Yinyang's privacy, but Yinyang didn't seem to care. He'd grabbed apple juice and a pastry of some kind, filled with cream cheese. Yinyang and Tissues ate together, Tissues sitting on the carpet and Yinyang on the couch close by, both staring at the gameshow program that was playing on TV- something that aired often, it was starting to get old. That and the fact that the episodes are hard to tell apart. Same host every time, same backdrop, same formula. Because of this, Tissues' mind couldn't help but wander, and so did his eyes. Yinyang was focused intently on the tv, one hand, Yin's, tapping the sides of the paper cup and the other, Yang's, lifting the pastry to his mouth and taking a bite. They seemed to have figured out a good way to eat without arguing. 

"So," Tissues said, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" Yin said politely. 

"Can i sit next to you guyse?" Tissues asked. Yinyang looked a bit puzzled.

"Sure. Why not?" Yinyang said, "Just try not to get any of your germs on me." Yang grumbled. Yin pinched his arm. "Don't be rude," Yang growled, but once Tissues got up and hopped up onto the couch cushion next to him, Yang seemed to have forgotten about it. Tissues was so short he had to put in a lot of effort to get onto the couch- It was almost comical. Because of that, he preferred to sit on the ground. People seemed to prefer him down there anyway. It was kind of nice, up there, though, and honestly the only thing he felt different was... More comfortable, and taller. It was nice. He hadn't even noticed the TV program changing from the game show to an ad break- some kind of infomercial on chairs. 

"Sooo.... Do you want to go and check out the pool today? I've heard that there's like, complimentary towels. I haven't actually been there yet," Tissues said.

"Are you... asking us to hang out with you?" Yinyang said curiously. 

"Well sure," Tissues smiled. "We're friends, right?"

"Umm..." Yinyang's face flushed a bright red. "Of course!" Yin chimed. 

"Whatever." Yang added, clenching his jaw and slightly baring his sharp teeth.

"I just didn't wanna show up alone. Can you swim?" He asked. Yinyang looked away.

"Not really," He said, embarrassed. "It takes a lot of coordination, and Yin hates listening." Yang said aggresively. Yin glared at his other half. 

"Ohhh thats cool. I can't either," Tissues replied. "I was just planning on sitting by the side. Maybe putting my feet in- Its just nice to have like... uhh. SNIFF. Change of scenery... I like the chlorine smell." 

"Well that sounds nice!" Yinyang said. "But we need to go back to our room first, Right?" Yang sounded like he was directing the question less towards Tissues and more towards Yin. 

"Oh. Well that's ok. I'm here all day," Tissues said, pulling his mouth into a goofy half-smile. Yinyang finished off his apple juice and got up, silently turned and smiled towards Tissues, and walked away. Tissues wondered what he was thinking about. 

~~~~

[cpd5021]

Santa’s Helper

Happy Smutmas! Here’s day number one! Rated very much M!! Enjoy!

It started off as any other day in Intelligence, they were working a case and Jay and Hailey had been out tracking down a witness. As they walked up the steps back into the precinct, the typical easy banter flowing between them, Hailey caught Platt’s eyes and immediately knew she would regret it. Platt stared her down and summoned her over with a wave of her finger. Hailey sent Jay a panicked look but he simply shrugged and continued his way up the steps leading towards the bullpen. Hailey begrudgingly made her way over to Platt, feeling her stomach sink with every step as she took in the clearly fake smile plastered on the sargents face. 

“Goldilocks! Just the detective I wanted to see!”

Her uncharacteristically chipper voice did nothing to quell Hailey’s nerves. 

“What can I help you with, Sarge?”

Hailey asked, forcing her own fake smile onto her face. 

“Upton, I am so glad you asked.”

Platt accentuated each word, smiling even more as she spoke. 

“CPD is hosting a little Christmas event for kids and I need some volunteers.”

The way she said ‘volunteers’ told Hailey it would be anything but voluntary. Hailey simply nodded along, waiting for the other bomb to drop. 

“We’re having a Santa and he needs some elves.”

There it was. Hailey cringed internally at the thought of what Platt was suggesting but knew better than to protest. 

“Who else is helping out?”

Hailey asked, trying to draw the attention away from her initial reaction. 

“Well, Kevin was more than happy to be our Santa and you should have seen the look on Kim’s face when I told her, she’s the one who suggested elves. It’s perfect!”

Hailey smiled at the thought of Kevin as Santa and was not one bit surprised that Kim was all for this. She nodded again, letting Platt know she would help out before turning to dart upstairs and hoping that she could somehow get out of this. Walking into the bullpen, Hailey walked by Kevin’s desk, sharing a knowing look with him as she passed by. She was so distracted by her previous conversation she didn’t notice Kim jogging up to her until they almost collided. 

“Did she tell you? I already found the costumes!”

Kim beamed, practically jumping with excitement. 

“Co...costumes?”

Hailey stuttered, not having even considered that thought.

“Well yeah, we can’t just go as is. We’re elves!”

This time Kim did jump and Hailey fought to plaster a smile on her face. She excused herself and hurried over to her desk, sinking into her chair and wishing they had used the other door when they came in. Jay sent her a questioning look from his desk and she couldn’t bring herself to explain so she just shook her head at him and focused on her computer. 

    Hailey made it through the rest of the day without mention of her new gig, thankful that they had gotten too busy for Kim to have the time to show her the costumes. Now she stood in the locker room, ready to go home and dreading tomorrow. It was supposed to be her day off anyway, she should have told Platt she had plans. Not that that would have mattered, the Sargeant would have gotten her roped in one way or another. While word of Hailey’s role at this shindig thankfully stayed under wraps, the mention of the function itself spread quickly. Jay had asked her if she planned on attending it and she had brushed him off, hoping he wasn’t planning on going. He had let it drop but the way he looked at her made Hailey think he suspected something was up. Hailey finished up in the locker room and quickly headed home, praying tomorrow would be over with quickly. 

    Morning came far too quickly for Hailey’s liking. She found herself snoozing her alarm a few times before she finally rolled out of bed. She padded into the bathroom, taking a long and hot shower before she got dressed and headed downstairs for some breakfast. She glanced at her phone, checking the time and groaning when she realized she needed to get going if she was going to meet with Kim at 11 as they had planned. Hailey headed out the door, pulling her coat tight against her in the cold Chicago wind. The drive to the banquet hall was much shorter than Hailey would have appreciated and soon enough she was trudging her way inside. An older woman at a table by the door pointed her in the direction of a room being used for the characters and Hailey cringed at the title placed upon her. Pushing the door open slowly, the first thing that caught her eye was Kevin in the corner of the room, donned in a full on Santa suit and instantly glaring at her smile. She walked over, lifting her hand to rub it up and down the red fabric.

“Wow, it’s even real velvet.”

She smirked, chuckling when he glared down at her. 

“Only the best for the best.”

He said, puffing his chest out and adjusting his Santa hat. Hailey was just starting to think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad when Kim came running up behind her, clad in a bright green elf dress, complete with obnoxiously glittery tights. She even wore a hat with a little bell on top and Hailey wanted to sink into the floor at the thought of putting it on. Kim handed her the bag containing her garment and pointed her in the direction of the bathroom. Hailey held back a sigh as she took the bag and headed out of the room. 

Once dressed, and having swallowed every last bit of her pride, Hailey walked back out into the main room. She met eyes with Kevin and it was his turn to smirk at her. She sent him a glare in return and then was bombarded by Kim once again. 

“Okay, I have some glittery makeup we can add for you. I think it really pulls the look together.”

Kim turned her head back and forth slowly, displaying her glittery handiwork. Hailey pursed her lips in an attempt at a smile, knowing she wasn’t getting out of this. Once kim had “worked her magic” as she called it, the two followed after Kevin as another older woman came to tell them it was time to set up. Walking into the auditorium, the trio were met by Platt, wearing a huge smile plastered on her face. She walked over to them, coming to Kevin first and cupping his face between her hands. 

“Most handsome Santa I’ve ever seen.”

She said and the look on his face was priceless. She turned to Kim next, sending her another smile before she finally turned to Hailey. 

“Awe, aren’t you just adorable.”

Hailey tried her best to smile at the Sergeant but it fell flat. Platt leaned in close enough to speak so only Hailey could here. 

“And hating every moment, which I’m loving. For the kids Upton! For the kids!”

And with that she was gone and Hailey was moving to catch up to Kim. 

The event started then and Hailey and Kim fell into an easy rhythm, leading the kids up to sit on Santa’s lap and posing for photo ops when requested. Hailey’s nerves had settled slightly as they neared the end of the event and she had to admit, seeing the kids light up by seeing Santa almost made this whole disaster worth it. Almost. 

As the afternoon wore down, the line started to thin. Hailey was standing next to a family with two kids, ready for their photo, when she saw the auditorium doors open and her heart sank. In walked Adam and Jay, heading directly her way. She panicked briefly and considered boltling, but the photographer reminded her they were ready to take the photo. By the time the camera clicked and Hailey was free, it was too late. Jay was standing just a few feet back, staring at her with the biggest grin on his face, Adam’s eyes were locked on Kim. The girls ushered the last few kids through, finishing out the event before Adam jumped onto the end of the line. Kim played right along, moving him up to sit on Kevin’s lap and Kim laughed as she snapped the picture. Jay walked up to Hailey, a huge grin still plastered on his face. 

“Shut up.”

She told him, though she was unable to control the small smile tugging at her lips. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

Hailey glared up at him, his mischievous eyes glinting down at her. 

“Did you want a picture with Santa too?”

She asked, raising her eyebrow at him. He leaned in closer to her, whispering into her ear as he spoke. 

“No, but I wouldn’t mind a session with his elf.”

Hailey instantly felt heat rush to her cheeks but she hoped the glittery makeup Kim had plastered on her would hide it. 

“I’ll see if Kim’s available.”

She deadpanned, knowing damn well he meant her. The two had recently shifted their relationship past just work partners and friends and honestly it had been the best decision Hailey had ever made. Jay was amazing, as she knew he would be, in every aspect of their relationship. But the way he was looking at her with the dark look swirling around his eyes, made Hailey very aware of the one element he really excelled in. The thought sent heat rushing to more than just her cheeks, something she knew Jay was definitely aware of. Jay stood behind her, with enough distance that any onlookers wouldn’t think anything of their spacing, but close enough he could tug ever so slightly on the hem of her short skirt. Hailey jumped at the contact and spun around to send him a threatening look. He sent her a smirk in return and she was blushing once again. Hailey turned back around to survey the room, Kevin, Adam and Kim were huddled in the corner all laughing at something Kevin had said. The cleaning crew was making their way in to tear down the decorations, signalling to Hailey that she was done for the day. She reached back to tug Jay’s arm, leading him out of the auditorium. They headed into the empty hallway and Hailey started back towards the dressing room. 

“Give me just a sec to change and we can get out of here.”

She spoke, checking the plaque on each door as she walked, looking for the dressing room. She only made it two more doors before Jay’s hand yanked her backwards and quickly turned her back to be up against the wall. He was in front of her in a split second, his knee coming to rest between her thighs. Her eyes darted up and down the hallway, finding it thankfully empty.

“Are you insane?”

She hissed, finally looking up at him. He winked at her before dipping his head down, his mouth instantly finding the spot just below her ear that he knew drove her wild. She clutched the front of his shirt, eagerly pulling him closer before she thought better and pushed him back. 

“Jay, look where we are!”

She hissed again, scanning the hallway once more. 

“I don’t see anyone.”

He countered, biting his bottom lip as he took in her flushed face. 

“That’s not the point.”

She muttered, her heart racing at the look on his face. 

“One of these rooms has to be empty, it’s a Saturday, everyone’s probably headed home.”

He whispered, waggling his eyebrows playfully. 

“You really are insane.”

She replied, making the mistake of looking him in the eye once again. Jay pulled her off the wall, tugging her down the hall and checking for an unlocked door. To her horror, and albeit slight pleasure, he found one and quickly pushed it open, yanking her inside. They found themselves in an empty office that looked like it wasn’t in use even during business days. A desk covered in a thick layer of dust was in the middle of the room but Jay led her to the leather couch pushed up against the wall. He sat down and immediately pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his waist. 

“I wasn’t joking about that session with an elf.”

He said, leaning up to kiss along her neck once again. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, pulling him closer as her body began to give in to his ministrations. His hands gripped her hips, gently moving her back and forth against the front of his jeans, causing an obvious reaction from the both of them. His fingers came to dance up her thighs, sliding under the fabric of her skirt easily and continuing their way up. His thumb brushed over her sensitive nerves and even through all the fabric she bucked at the contact. He pulled back from her neck, tilting his head to smirk up at her. She bit her lower lip, her fingers trailing down his neck before scraping down his shirt until she met the clasp of his belt. His eyes darkened even more as she quickly undid the belt and his button, pulling down his zipper slowly, with enough pressing to drive him wild. She freed him from his boxers and her hands instantly started to set a rhythm, his hips lifting up into her with every stroke. She sent him a smirk before sliding off his lap and onto her knees in front of him. 

“Hailey…”

He breathed out, registering what was about to happen. She bit her lip again, sending him a wink before she dipped down and took him into her mouth. Her eyes never left his and she watched as he fell apart under her touch. She set a slow pace, something she knew drove him insane as her mouth and hand worked together to bring him to the edge. She could tell he was getting close when his thighs started to twitch around her and then his hands were in her hair, gently pulling her off. He pulled her up and positioned her on the couch, sharing a quick kiss before he pushed her to lay back. He pulled down the skirt and tights, dragging his nails down her thighs as he went. The sensation caused her to shiver and he sent her a devilish grin in response. Jay shifted himself down, his tongue darting out between his lips for just a second before he lapped at her wetness, Hailey arching instantly underneath him. He drew his tongue through her wet folds again before he moved back down and slid inside her. Hailey’s hand clasped over her mouth in an attempt to silence her moans as Jay continued to work her. As her legs began to shake around him, Jay pulled away from her, causing Hailey to groan at the loss of contact. Her disappointment didn’t last long before his fingers slid into her core, another loud moan rising from her chest. His mouth latched onto her clit and as his tongue sucked and flicked over the sensitive bundle, Hailey felt herself fall apart. Jay continued to work her until the waves of her orgasm finally slowed. Then he crawled back up her until his body hovered over her, the tip of his erection dancing just over where she wanted him most. His mouth found hers and she tasted herself there, causing another moan. Jay positioned himself at her entrance, nipping at her bottom lip before he pushed his whole length in.He paused for a moment to let her adjust before his hips began to rock against her. Hailey met him thrust for thrust and in a matter of minutes, they were both on edge. Jay moved one hand between them, his fingers dancing over her throbbing bundle and it was enough to drive her over the edge. 

“Jay...oh fuck…”

She moaned loudly before Jay’s mouth clashed against hers, silencing her with a kiss. His own release followed right after and his thrusts became sloppy as he lost control. They stilled for a moment, both catching their breath, before Jay moved out of her and sat up on the couch. Hailey laid, completely spent, on the cool leather sofa as her stomach and thighs continued to quiver. Jay stood and put himself back together before bending down to grab her clothes. He helped her slide back into the tights and skirt, laughing as she swayed upon standing. Her arms came to clasp around his neck, pulling him into a quick hug before she moved back to look at him. 

“You’re awful. A kids Christmas program?”

She shook her head in mock disappointment, causing him to raise his eyebrows at her. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone heard quite the opposite.”

His words brought another flush to her cheeks and she buried her face in his chest. 

“Shut up, I’m not that loud.”

He chuckled against her, giving her hips a squeeze before they separated. 

“That is highly debatable.”

Hailey shook her head again and pulled him towards the door. They stepped back out into the hallway and Hailey resumed her search for the dressing room door. To her horror, she only made it to the door next to the one they had just come out of. Hailey slowly pushed it open, hoping no one would be inside. Of course that wasn’t her luck and as they stepped inside they were met with a mixture of looks and whistles from Kevin and Adam. Kim sat in the corner laughing. But as Platt moved to stand in front of her, Hailey’s stomach sank. The Sergeant didn’t say a word, just glared Hailey and then Jay down before leaving the room. Hailey turned to punch Jay in the shoulder before bolting to the bathroom to change, locking herself inside and debating never coming out.

[zachsgamejournal]

PLAYING: Super Mario 3D World + Bowser’s Fury

I’ve kinda been dying to play this. I love co-op games, especially the Lego Games. How perfect to have a family of four and to have a family-friendly four player game?! Also, I was super intrigued by an Open World Mario game!

My wife bought me this for my birthday. I was really excited, and a little drunk, when we played it. I had a blast but I think it was a bit frustrating for her. Mostly because of our children. See, my son Jack is fairly comfortable with video games now and so was inspired to run off ahead. My daughter is still getting her bearings, so had a tendency to hang back or go the wrong way. Lego Games have handle this is two great ways:

1. The screen must have all players in frame at all times. So if the players get too far apart, their progress is blocked: forcing everyone to stay with each other. 2. The screen splits into two so that each player can go their own way without disrupting the other.

For some reason, Nintendo didn’t know how frustrating it is to play simultaneously with a 4 year old and a 7 year old. My son was able to rush ahead, leaving us behind. The game kindly puts the other players in bubbles and floats them back up to the leader. But that also means they lose their agency to explore.

I’m sure with a few responsible adults or teenagers, you could communicate more to stay together and minimize frustrations, but it’s never going to be perfect.

So while overall, I had fun, most the experience was yelling at one kid to wait, another kid to hurry up, and at the game for what the hell am I supposed to do here? If they simply locked the screen so that we all had to stay together, it would have been much more enjoyable.

THEN I played some Bowser’s Fury:

It was pretty fun. Mario 3D uses most of the gameplay elements from 3d Marios, butt stomps, flip jumps from direction changes, all the jazz. I think it’s just the tripple jump that’s not carried over. Still, I can just “feel” that it’s not quite a single-player Mario. Kind of like how Elder Scrolls Online does a good job of almost feeling like a single player elder scrolls--but there’s clearly some bits missing. Still, I’m impressed. It seems they took the 3D gameplay and just dropped it into an open world. It makes it feel like its own AAA, standalone Mario adventure.

The Story is that Bowser is furious. I mean...isn’t he always? His son (Jr?) says it’s worst than normal. So, like a cartoon Godzilla, Bowser stands in the middle of an ocean that seems to be over-whelmed by a mind-altering oil spill. (Maybe there’s an environmentalist message?) So we have to find Cat symbols (instead of plain stars) to light up lighthouses and unlock more “islands”. Every now and then, Bowser gets pissed and the whole world becomes dark and moody, and there’s more monsters. Bowser randomly breathes fire across the land and you have to hide. It’s interesting.

What’s neat is that Jr helps you. He’s flying around on a little vehicle and he can collect coins or defeat enemies. It’s kind of neat. You can also change how helpful he is. I kind of hate that this is basically controlling the difficulty. If you’re bad at games, having Jr be really helpful will likely save your life quite a bit. But if you’re experienced, you might feel like Jr. is playing the game for you. This is sad because in the Last of Us, Ellie slowly becomes more useful as a companion. She goes from hiding, to throwing rocks, to stabbing folks, to getting her own gun and being a real asset. What all that is meant to imply is relationship development. The more she and Joel grow closer together, the more helpful she is in combat. I think there’s an interesting story of two adversaries working together here, but will it thrive if the gameplay relationship doesn’t change over time??

Anyway, it’s interesting.

I think they’ve done a good job with the game. It’s interesting that you can see all the levels. Reminds me of a video I watched where they put all the Mario 64 levels into one map. Every time you walk into a “new level” text pops up to tell you the name of the zone and give you a summary of cat icons to collect. It’s simple and it works.

Speaking of these Cat Icons and stuff--what’s up with all the cats in this game? I know Japan likes cats, but this game is super-themed toward cats. What’s going on?

[softspideys]

The Right Person (Tom Holland x reader)

summary: when your ex shows up to the same party as you, you ask tom to be your boyfriend for five minutes

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this is my first fic in a WHILE so I hope it’s not too rusty! enjoy:)

As soon as you locked eyes with the guy across the room, you knew it was going to be a long night.

You turned away and tried to melt into the crowd, pushing past everyone and trying not to spill your drink until you managed to locate Zendaya. “What the hell, Z?” you hissed. “Why did you invite Anthony?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, sounding just as alarmed as you felt. “I didn’t even know he was here!”

There was a cough behind you. You turned around and saw Harrison standing there, scratching his nose and looking unmistakably guilty.

“Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this,” Zendaya said, a murderous expression on her face. “Tell me you did not invite her ex-boyfriend to my party.”

“Listen,” Harrison began, and you groaned. “Look, Jacob asked if he could bring some people and I didn’t realize that Anthony would be one of them! I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s obvious,” Zendaya mumbled.

“I’m really sorry,” Harrison said, and he seemed sincere. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene or make it seem like you weren’t over the relationship. “No, it’s fine,” you said with a sigh. “It was an honest mistake. I just don’t want there to be any drama tonight.”

“Look, don’t worry,” Zendaya said, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I won’t leave your side. I promise. He won’t have the balls to come up to you if I’m there.” This was true; Anthony would never try to talk to you if you were with someone else.

Unfortunately, as well-meaning as she was, you also knew Zendaya wasn’t going to hang around you the whole night. She probably wasn’t going to even hang around for the next five minutes. There was always someone else: some guy who wanted to talk to her, some girl whom she hadn’t seen in ages, and soon she was lost in the party, only to be seen again at the end of the night. You loved her, but you knew her well.

“Okay,” you said now, forcing a smile. “Great.” Harrison came back holding a shot and you snatched it out of his hands, downing it quickly.

“Hey!” he complained. You made a face as it burned going down your throat.

“That’s what you get for inviting my asshole ex-boyfriend to a party,” you informed him before looking around the room. “Where’s Zendaya?” In the ten seconds you’d been distracted, she’d vanished. You sighed.

It was almost like being a secret agent, spending the night ducking and sneaking through the house, trying to avoid Anthony as best you could. You weren’t really sure why you didn’t want to see him, exactly; it had been almost six months since the two of you broke up. And he’d never cheated on you or beat you up or yelled at you. He was just . . . well, he was an asshole, plain and simple. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to talk to an asshole.

An hour later, you were exhausted and still hadn’t seen any sign of Zendaya. This was her apartment, for God’s sake, and it wasn’t even that big. Where could she possibly have gone?

You stumbled into the kitchen for another drink and almost collided with Tom Holland. Great. Was this party Douchebag Ground Zero or something?

“Nice to see you’re classy as always,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes, and shit, you’d said that last line out loud.

You and Tom had gotten along for maybe the first three seconds after you met. And then he tried to hit on you with a slimy, cocky pickup line he’d probably used countless times before, you got pissed and called him a dick, he got pissed and called you a bitch, and the rest was history. Long story short, the two of you hadn’t had a nice exchange in years.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded.

“Zendaya invited me,” he said, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Because, you know, I can actually play nice with other people.” Despite your feelings about him, everyone else in your friend group got actually along well with Tom. Harrison was always inviting him to hang out, insisting the two of you would like each other if you just tried harder. It was very annoying.

“Fuck off,” you said, but the usual bite wasn’t there. Instead, it just came out weary. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He did. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, scrubbing one hand down the side of your face. “It’s just . . . it’s been a long night.”

“Hmm,” Tom said, knitting his eyebrows. “Care to elaborate on that extremely vague statement?”

“Not to you,” you said. Something different flashed across his face for a second, but it went back to the usual annoyance so fast you wondered if you imagined it. It almost looked like hurt.

Before you could contemplate that further, his eyes strayed to look at something over your shoulder. “Uh, if I’m not mistaken, I think your ex-boyfriend is making his way over here.”

“What?” You turned. Sure enough, you could see Anthony across the kitchen, elbowing his way over to you. Your heart started to pound, like all of your senses had suddenly shifted into high gear. You had to think, and fast.

You looked back at Tom, surveying him as objectively as you could. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Nice teeth. Decent manners. Kind of funny.

Were you really about to do this?

Clearing your throat, you said, “I need you to be my boyfriend for five minutes.”

“What?” Tom echoed. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe!” you said. “Look, Anthony is coming over to talk to me and I can’t handle it on my own so I just really need you to be cool for once and do this for me, okay? Please? Five minutes?”

Tom stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. Before he could answer, a voice behind you said, “Hey.”

You turned around to face your ex. “Hey,” you said, plastering a smile on your face. “Anthony. Hi.”

“You look well,” Anthony said. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you said, as Tom ever-so-slowly slipped his arm around your waist. You tensed at the unfamiliar feeling at first, but forced yourself to relax. “Yourself?”

“Good,” Anthony said, immediately zeroing in on Tom’s hand on your hip, on his thumb that was just barely slipped under your shirt, rubbing the skin there almost absent-mindedly. “It’s Tom, right?” You tried to remember how much the two of them had interacted before. Hopefully it wasn’t much.

“Uh-huh,” Tom said. He didn’t say anything else, and an awkward pause followed.

“Nice to see you again,” your ex said finally, his eyes still occasionally flicking down to your waist. “Not sure if you knew this but, uh, we used to date.” He jerked his head at you.

“You graduated, like, last spring, right?” Tom asked abruptly.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Cool. Why are you still hanging around on campus?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Anthony’s eyes narrowed at the blunt question, like he was trying to figure out if it was rude or not. Tom looked unbothered, wincing a little when you subtly stepped on his foot.

“I’m not,” Anthony said finally, his voice noticeably cooler. “I’m just visiting Jacob for the weekend, and he said there was a party tonight.”

“Ah,” Tom said, nodding. “Got it.”

“Anyway,” Anthony said. “Are the two of you dating, or . . .?”

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “We are.”

“Funny,” he said. “I always thought you didn’t like each other.”

You smiled, hoping he couldn’t tell how nervous you were. “Uh, yeah, well, one day we just kind of realized we . . . didn’t.” It was a lame thing to say, but when you glanced at Tom you saw his eyes were already on you, a strangely soft look on his face.

“When did you get together?” Anthony asked, like you were at a police interrogation and not a college party.

“Couple months ago,” Tom said breezily. “It’s been good so far, right babe?” He smiled down at you.

You blinked, a little taken aback by how casual he seemed. “Uh, yeah. Really good.”

“Cool, cool,” Anthony said, focusing back on you. “So, senior year, right?”

“Yup.”

“I’m a senior too,” Tom cut in helpfully. You coughed, trying to stifle a giggle that randomly came out of nowhere.

Anthony ignored him. “Are you working anywhere?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Still at the student co-op, but it’s been going well. I actually—”

“Still?” he repeated. “I thought you were looking for something else.”

“Well—”

“You know, especially since it’s your last year now, it’s good to have an internship under your belt. A real resume booster.”

“Um, I was looking around,” you said quickly before he could get another word in, “but things just didn’t . . . pan out.” You’d had a minimum wage job over the summer at home, along with doing some part-time work here and there for a company you were vaguely interested in, but other than that you didn’t really have much going for you.

“Where’d you look? Were you limiting yourself to working just within your major? Because, you know, sometimes you gotta cast a wider net.”

“I was, but I—”

“Did you call back after you applied? Or send thank-you emails? Job recruiters really pay attention to those little details. It shows you take initiative.” Anthony shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I mean, unless you’d rather be selling books and supplies at the co-op for the rest of your life.”

You swallowed, feeling your face and neck start to get hot again. You’d forgotten how pushy Anthony could be, how he seemed to take delight in making you feel inferior. Back when you were dating, he was always dropping hints about you being lazy or not trying hard enough to look for a better job, often comparing your career at the student co-op to his paid internship.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the words just wouldn’t come out. It was like he was six feet tall, and you were only six inches.

Suddenly, Tom’s arm tightened around you. “Actually, she just got promoted to assistant manager of the co-op,” he said, his words sharper than glass. “And she was employee of the month three times in a row. And she’s got an interview for that internship in the city over winter break. Right?” You nodded wordlessly, wondering how he knew all that.

“She works damn harder than me, or any of us for that matter, and it’s paying off. So I’d say selling school supplies at the co-op is going pretty well for her,” Tom finished. “Not that it’s any of your business though, mate.”

Anthony seemed surprised for a second, his eyebrows raised. “Alright man, chill out,” he said. “I was just making sure she’s pushing herself. Sometimes she had a problem with that when we were dating.”

“Huh,” Tom said pleasantly. “Well, maybe she’s just found the right person now.”

You’d been taking a long sip of your drink, but now you nearly spat it out everywhere. Anthony’s jaw clenched. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Well. Think I’m gonna go see where the boys went off to.”

“You do that.”

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” he said. “I’m glad you’re happy. The two of you really deserve each other.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say finally. “It’s nice to know that you haven’t changed a bit, Anthony.”

With one last scathing look, he left you alone. Tom relaxed instantly, letting out a long sigh. “Jesus, I forgot what an asshole that guy is,” he said. “How long were you with him again?”

You were staring up at him like you’d never seen him before in your life. “How did you know all that stuff?” you asked. “Like, about the job and the interview and whatever? How did you know?” It was then that you also noticed his arm was still around you.

He noticed too, taking a step back and scratching his nose. “I just pay attention, I guess.”

“To—to me?”

“Yeah, of course. You know . . . Z tells me stuff about you and I—I listen.” It was true that through casual conversation, you knew Tom’s birthday and what he was studying at school and whatever problems he happened to be going through at the moment. But it never occurred to you that he might be committing facts about you to memory the way you did with him.

“But . . . why? You don’t like me.”

Tom smiled thinly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “If you listened, you’d know that I actually like you very much.”

Your mind was racing as you processed all of this. There was no way that Tom actually meant that—was there? You hated each other; you always had. But then why did it make your heart pound to hear him say those nice things about you? Why did your entire body feel warm when he touched you? Why did you pick him to be your fake boyfriend in the first place?

“Oh, fuck it,” you said suddenly. You grabbed his hand and set off through the apartment, dragging him with you. Ignoring his confused protests, you didn’t stop until you were in front of the door you were looking for.

You jiggled the doorknob and were relieved to find it open. You pulled Tom inside before closing and locking the door behind you.

“Why are we in the bathroom?” Tom asked. “Have you had some sort of mental break?”

“Shut up,” you said, grabbing his face and pulling him down into a kiss.

Tom stayed frozen with shock for about five seconds before he jerked back, staring down at you with wide eyes. For a second neither of you spoke, and just as you were afraid you’d made the entirely wrong move here, he leaned in and connected your lips again.

A small part of your brain still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but mostly you were just thinking about how good it felt, and how much you wanted more.

Tom pressed you against the bathroom counter, and you let out a small yelp as your body collided with the hard marble. “Shit, sorry,” he whispered, even though no one else was there and the music was loud, thumping through the closed door.

“S’okay,” you answered, cracking a grin. He returned it, and soon the two of you were giggling like kids. He leaned in again, but you stopped him. “Wait. I just have one question.”

“Okay.”

“So, all this time . . . you liked me?”  

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I mean, yeah. Basically.”

“Then why’d you act like you didn’t?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I thought you hated me, and if the only way to get to talk to you was to fight, then . . . so be it, I guess.” He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Sounds pretty corny now that I say it out loud, but there it is.”

You swallowed, taking in his dark eyes, the curve of his mouth as he watched you shyly, waiting for your reaction. “I thought you hated me,” you said finally. “God, are we really that stupid?”

He snorted. “Seems that way. I guess we have Anthony to thank for all of this.”

“More like Harrison,” you mused. “He’s the one who invited him.”

Tom grimaced. “Idiot.” A beat passed. “So, uh, can we . . .?”

“Oh! Oh, God, absolutely,” you said, laughing as he grinned, moving closer. He let your noses brush for a second before he kissed you again. There was something different about it this time: it was softer, more deliberate, like he was testing the waters.

You were aware of the seconds and minutes ticking by, but none of it seemed to matter anymore. Everything was just Tom: the smell of his cologne filling your nose, his eyelashes brushing your face, his hands traveling down your body—

In one swift motion, Tom’s hands wrapped around your thighs and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. You squeaked at the movement, clinging to him reflexively.

"Good?” he asked, and you nodded. You opened your legs readily, hauling him back in for another kiss. You leaned into it and were rewarded when his mouth opened up against yours, your lips sliding together as your fingers wound themselves into his hair.

The kisses turned messy and urgent, your bodies pressing flush against each other. Tom’s hands slowly slid up your thighs, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you as his fingers left feather-light strokes on your sides, your back, just exploring the skin there.

If you had told yourself a day ago, hell, even an hour ago that you’d be hooking up with Tom Holland in the bathroom at Zendaya’s party, you would’ve thought you were crazy. And yet here you were, and here he was, your lower lip caught between his teeth.

You rocked your hips forward, and the noise Tom made against your lips sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your thoughts began to travel away from this bathroom and towards your apartment, in your bed, where you could spread him out and take your time—

A loud pounding on the door suddenly startled you apart. You looked at each other with wide eyes, your heart slamming against your chest. Oh, right. You were in someone else’s bathroom.

“Uh, occupied!” Tom said quickly as the doorknob rattled.

“Are you almost done? I really gotta pee-ee,” a voice whined on the other side. You burst into giggles as Tom shook his head, annoyed but amused.

“Be right there!” you called. Tom reluctantly stepped back and helped you down from the counter.

“What now?” you asked.

“Uh, well,” Tom said. “I’m gonna need a second to, um, make this go away.” You pointedly did not look down. “But then I figure we could . . . get out of here? I’m down to just figure things out as we go if you are.”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great.” You opened the door and went out into the hallway. You’d only gone a few paces before you nearly ran right into Zendaya.

“There you are!” she said, relieved. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said as Harrison appeared over her shoulder.

“Did everything go okay with . . . ?” Zendaya trailed off as she took in Tom hovering right behind you, at his messy hair and your flushed cheeks, at the matching smirks on both of your faces. “Oh my God.”

“No way,” Harrison said, letting out a sharp bark of laughter. “Tom, well done, mate!”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know how this happened,” Zendaya said. “But I guess you were able to get rid of Anthony?”

“You could say that,” Tom said.

“Good.” She raised her eyebrows. “And . . . you’re both sure this is right?”

You smiled as Tom squeezed your hand. “Yeah. I think it is.”