#and when i first read it i was half expecting someone to pounce at us every time we opened a door

[stubz]

Pollix lazed on the beanbag in the reading area. The passing sun shining just so perfectly on the young tighalax. He rolled onto his stomach and kneaded the carpet below when he spotted something or rather someone.

Nova. The ship Captain's daughter and fellow tighalax is currently stalking something.

'It's like watching a newborn cub walking for the first time. She'd be the runt of any tighalax pack in the galaxy.'

Pollix really had nothing against the smaller cub but he just couldn't help himself from teasing and poking fun at her every now and then.

'She's 6 moons older than me but half my size! She's like one of those stuffies we have in the toy bin.' he giggled to himself.

Intrigued by what she was doing he looks to see what her target is.

His ears perk as does his posture.

Kim. One of their human caretakers/teachers. Currently cleaning up some blocks on the ground. Completely unaware of the small feline-like creature.

She pounces. The prey is caught. Sent tumbling to it's side, shrieking with laughter.

A successful hunt shrieks Athea also watching the "hunt".

'A successful hunt? Pfft, I get that they're comrades but how could Athea call that a hunt?' for Nova's hunt was something to be expected of when one was a fresh cub. To celebrate a hunt like this when you were 7 summers old? Unheard of.

But runts do take longer since they're often too weak for some summers to do this type of thing, he concluded.

Still, at their age they should be hunting prey that's much bigger than Kim. Something around Max's size.

"Pollix! I caught Kim, did you see?"

"I saw...you were very quiet. But remember to use what's around you. Like you could have hide behind the bookshelf to get even closer."

"Oh. That's so smart! Thanks Pollix, I'm going to practice on Kim again."

"Mmmm." he curled back onto the bean bag.

"Not impressed?"

"Your blocking the sun Athea," he whined looking up at the orc. "But no not really. I mean Kim is strong I guess but she's a human."

"What. Humans are strong, sometimes stronger than other apex species like us." Pollix scoffs

"Yeah but I knocked her down like a million times when we wrestled! So Nova's probably going to be able to knock her over at least once, or maybe Kim just let her." he finished as an afterthought.

"...Okay so maybe she let Nova knock her over but what if she also let you knock her over?"

<If there's one thing many know about Tighalaxes it's that they are very prideful of their hunts and wins. And to diminish said hunts and wins is to question their skills as a hunter. The fastest and easiest way to tick them off>

The cub puffs his fur and flicks his tail around angrily.

"Nu-uh."

"Yu-huh."

"No. I knocked her over because I'm stronger than her!"

"And so did Nova. So I guess Nova is also strong." she stares at him.

<Now for Orcs, what they're known for is their undying loyalty. Should you belittle or badmouth an Orc's friend within earshot of them be prepared for an argument or a swift blow to the face. Depends on the situation>

The young orc straightens to her full height while keeping her gaze with the tighalax cub. Who in return get's up and rises to his full height as well.

Standing at 5 feet tall both are easily larger than most other youngling species their age. Only 5 inches shy of their teacher Kim.

Only at the age 6.

"Why don't you try to tackle her?"

Startled they stop sizing each other up and turn to the human who managed sneak up on them.

Jasper. A human child their age. Almost a foot smaller than them.

"I do it all the time. It's fun and I get to see how strong I am by how much I can make Kim move!" he exclaims, "One time I managed to make her take a step."

"That could work."

"Huh?"

"If you can tackle Kim then I'll apologize and take it back. If you can't then that means that Nova is strong too."

"Alright. But I'm doing it the proper way. Not when she's crouched down. That'd be too easy."

"Whatever."

..

'A real hunter should rely on their strength and instincts. Not just hiding and sneak attacks.'

He stalks towards Kim who's standing in the middle of the room doing a head count.

He picks up the pace. Her back is still to him.

He's broken into a run now. Normally he should wait till he's closer but he's just trying to tackle her so it's fine. She hears him.

He's at full speed and mere seconds away. Athea will be saying sorry to him very soon. She turns sideways and widens her feet.

He lunges. She's smiling.

To Athea and everyone else watching it was like watching a bouncy ball hit a wall. The cub made impact only to bounce off the human onto the floor.

"OH SHOOT!" Kim picks him and sets him on his back paws. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't think you'd bounce like that."

"..." could she always pick him up that easily?

"You look okay, Pollix are you hurt anywhere?" he shakes his head.

"Well that's good. Sorry about that buddy," she chuckles. "I thought since your a lot bigger than Jasper and Nova that you'd be fine. Here, let me go get you a starburst for the great effort."

"Wow Pollix! You made her actually get ready for it. I never did that. You really are strong." exclaims Nova. Eyes sparkling with awe.

"I, I just bounced off her. Like a bug."

"Yep." Athea pats her friend on the shoulder.

"...Nova you did a great job with your hunt. It was awesome."

"Aw, thanks Pol."

"I wonder if I could tackle her? I am heavier than you."

"Yeah you are pretty fat."

"Fat so I can crush you."

"You two are weird friends." sighs Nova.

[umnitsa]

Out of the frying pan, into the fire

Summary: Your lover (the asshole mayor of Hawkins) surprises you by granting your wishes (intimate time with the town's broody pill-popping drunk womanizer, the chief of police). <3

A/N: I was just trying to please myself and I hope it will please some fellow freaks out there XD This could be read as the start of a series, and I can't promise myself I won't write anymore. I just love them too much. Written with reckless abandon and no proofreading

Pairing: Larry Kline x fem!Reader x Hopper

CW: everybody is an asshole in a playful way, oral, PIV (no condoms, but really, this is a fantasy. Be responsible etc), size kink (hopper is big), some degradation, me trying to write dirty talk should be a CW for itself.

You had to admit you didn’t make the best choices. This one was bad, but god, if it wasn’t fun.

Larry was adjusting his cuffs and tie right before going on the little stage for his speech. He looked at you over his sunglasses and smiled brightly, raising his eyebrows. You smiled back, and nodded. His smile turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips.

You could feel yourself getting wet. That was a promise.

He winked and marched to the center of the stage, leaving you to think.

Larry Kline, the mayor, was an asshole. You worked for him, and you were fucking him. There was no other word for what the two of you were doing.

You sighed. Here is the thing: he can be very seductive. And he is gorgeous. The first time you gave in to your desire (and curiosity), you didn’t have a lot of expectations. You thought he was too much of a peacock to be any good in bed, too arrogant.

Somehow into that selfish head of his, Larry understood that sexual power, being good in bed, meant focusing on giving pleasure. It was easy to get addicted. You did. Sometimes you thought of his wife and of any other women he was probably fucking around (and with the amount of time he spent with you, you were his favorite, or he didn’t need to sleep), but you always fell when he licked his lips at you, the intense, focused look. As if he was going to devour you right then and there. It was as if it was taking all of his control not to pounce on you.

You just gave in. Happily.

And as he took you to distant motels, restaurants, and even bars (he wanted to dance with you; that was a whole other story), Larry used his charm to pull your deepest, darkest desires from you. He listened to your dirty confessions, smiling attentively, making small playful comments.

He remembered them. All of them.

Larry was always delighted to fulfill your fantasies.

Sometimes you wondered if it was a kind of love.

You sighed as Larry spoke, wondering how it would be to have a real, normal relationship with someone good for you.

You had to admit your taste for men didn't help. The only other man you found attractive in the town was the broody pill-popping drunk womanizer, the chief of police.

You scanned the crowd, and there he was, towering over everybody, looking annoyed, as always. Hopper rarely smiled; even when he did, it didn’t look natural. He was the talk of the town. He had fucked half the community, and they did TALK.

Hopper was all big. And the word in the town was that he knew how to use his body.

You were always waiting for new stories in the gossip mill, more dirty details; with the way Larry occupied your time, it was all you could do.

Hopper moved slightly, and you realized you got caught staring. He smirked, looking surprised. Then he looked to your right. A bit up.

You followed his line of vision and found Larry looking at you with that damned smirk of his. He looked at Hopper, then back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. He had just finished the speech and was walking back to your side.

“Really?” Larry chuckled amusedly as he stood before you, legs apart and hands on his hips. “Him?”

You blushed and looked down awkwardly.

“Okay, then.” Larry laughed, cocking his head, as he touched your arm and led you to a more private area, away from the crowd. “I’m just surprised, sweetheart. I have seen your wandering eyes, and I didn’t think that was your type.”

“C’mon, Larry,” You blushed. “You don’t need to make fun of me.”

“Aw, darling. I’m not making fun of you. I’m just surprised.” He licked his lips and grinned.

He did need to create a relationship with Hopper, at least get on good terms with the chief. Maybe you could help him. Larry saw his sneaky glances and he was sure Hopper would have already put his moves on you if you didn’t work for him. At least the man was respectful of boundaries.

You awkwardly looked up at Larry, and he smiled, almost sweetly.

“It’s ok, darling.” He held your hand discreetly, caressing your hand with his thumb. He had that impish smile of his, and you know he was already scheming something.

You couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited.

You had already forgotten the conversation when it finally happened…

You were on your knees, half tucked into Larry's desk, his cock sliding gently through your lips. Larry was leaning back, cupping your cheek with one of his hands, his thick fingers sliding against your cheek as he looked down at you, his expression almost loving.

“You know your safeword, don’t you, darling?” His fingertips slid gently over your skin, then buried themselves in your hair, as he sighed. Larry was leaning back, looking down at you with a gentle smile as he played with your hair. You nodded. “Darling… I want to hear you.”

“Red.” You mumbled around his cock and he laughed, tugging on your hair. You sighed and pulled back, sitting on your heels. “Red.”

“Good.” He shifted on the chair and leaned forward, smirking. “We are going to play today.” He caressed your cheek, his eyes softening, as he looked into yours. “I’m going to have a meeting now. And you’re going to keep sucking me. If you want to stop, you can pat my leg. Whatever happens, if you want to stop, just say your safeword, don’t worry about us getting caught. I can deal with it.”

“Don’t worry.” You nodded, smiling. “I know.”

”Good.” Larry said, still smirking, and he had the audacity to wink. You chuckled, shaking your head, his hand gently caressing your hair. He looked into your eyes for a moment, then tugged your hair, directing you back to his cock. “Be a good girl for me.”

You went back to sucking him, slowly, gently sliding your tongue over and around the head. Larry moaned, back to playing with your hair.

After a while, you heard a knock on the door, the sound of it opening, and then the secretary’s voice: “Chief is here”.

You whimpered, Larry covering your noise with his voice.

“Good, let him in. And you can take your lunch.” He said, smiling brightly.

The door closed, and after a while it opened again, heavy steps following. Larry combed your hair with his fingers; he leaned forward, legs apart, pulling your head, sliding his whole cock into your mouth, and keeping you in place. You exhaled a shaky breath, eyes fluttering close. His hand moved soothingly over the back of your head.

“What do you want?” Hopper gruffed, followed by a thump.

“I want to bury the hatchet, Jim.” Larry said, very matter of fact. “We both have our differences, but we can at least be civil in public.”

“You’re just worried about your image,” Hopper scoffed.

“Yes, I am! And you should be too, you’re the chief of police.” Larry tugged on your hair, letting you breathe. He let you pull away a bit, but kept your head still, his cock resting against your tongue. You breathed through your nose, slowly, calmly. “And to seal this I have a gift for you!”

“What the fuck, Larry.” Hopper chuckled low.

“I saw the way you look at my assistant,” Larry said, softly. Then he added, quickly, probably to placate the giant in front of him. “Hey, I understand. She’s adorable, funny, smart… But there is something even better about her.” His cock hardened even more in your mouth, oozing precome in pulses over your tongue. “She’s a dirty little thing, lovely. Such a delightful little slut… You turn her on and she’ll do practically anything… And happily.”

“Kline…” Hopper warned him, but Larry just didn’t care.

“You look at her face, you can’t tell it, but she is a dirty little thing. She just… never lets go. For as long as you wanna fuck her, she’ll take it. Anywhere. I just love having my cock inside her... Hell, I wish I could stake claim to her publicly, she makes me so happy.” You felt his hand on your hair, caressing gently, as he pulsed in your mouth, forcing you to swallow around him. “She begs, Hopper… So beautifully… Anyway, that is my gift for you; I’ll let you play with my favorite little whore.”

The soft scruffle of feet made you wonder what was happening in the room. Larry pulled you forward a bit, his cock still in your mouth; so you open your eyes, looking up. You were already wet, but the sight made you gasp.

Hopper was standing beside Larry, one hand on the back of his chair, towering over the both of you; he looked surprised, his eyebrows arching high, but you could see desire on his face. And his cock slowly hardening in his pants.

“Look at that! Such a good girl.” Larry softly said, before pulling the cock from your mouth and pushing the chair back. He offered you his hand; his other hand gently massaging his own cock. You took his hand and he pulled you from under his desk, making you stand up. “Perfect, look at her.”

You just stood there, with big wide eyes, looking from Hopper to Larry, a bit anxious. Larry winked at you, petting your hand gently. Hopper grabbed his belt with both hands and looked you over, slowly, a small smile on his face.

“I like the idea, but I need to hear it from her.” Hopper cocked his head, eyes focused on yours. “I can see you’re enjoying yourself, with the way you’re squirming, but I need to ask. Are you on board with this, young lady? Can I touch you?” He chuckled as you nodded eagerly. “Words.”

“Yes, please.” You whined, holding Larry’s hand, but leaning towards Hopper. You heard Larry chuckling beside you as if saying ‘I told you so’. “My safeword is red.”

Larry laughed at how eager you looked, squeezing your hand. You looked at him and he nodded to you, leaning to give you a gentle, but passionate kiss. With a wink, he moved away, to the other side of the desk.

You heard the sound of Hopper’s belt clinking as he pulled it open and dropped it on the chair. With a warm smile, he held your hand and placed it on the bulge on his pants.

“Your man made good points,” Hopper said, as you unbuttoned his pants. “And you looked so good with his cock in your mouth….”

You got on your knees so quickly it pulled a chuckle from Larry, and that made Hopper shoot an irritated look at the mayor. Larry just shrugged with a crooked smirk on his face, his hand lazily working his cock.

“So you’re gonna watch,” Hopper growled.

“Yeah, I’m gonna watch,” Larry said, amusedly. “I know for a fact you’re not always careful with the toys, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fair enough.” Hopper chuckled darkly, playing with your hair. You opened his pants, tugging his underwear down; you couldn’t stop from gasping.

The gossip was accurate. Hopper was huge. it wasn't the length that scared you, but the girth; his cock was thick, and you were suddenly shocked by the realization that he wasn't completely hard.

“I know the women all talk. Is it like you imagined?” Hopper pushed his hips forward; his heavy cock bobbed toward you.

“I wish I…” You said, distractedly, your voice soft. “I mean… I don't have much time to think of these things.” You chuckled softly and sneaked a look at Kline, who just laughed.

Hopper grunted, annoyed, then pushed the head of his cock between your lips. You moaned, feeling him slide his length over your tongue. Your eyes fluttered close and he sighed, leaning and cupping the back of your head.

You felt his thick fingers caressing your hair gently, as he pushed your head to him, slowly. The moment the tip of his cock touched your throat, he grunted; after a gentle prod, he pulled back again, sighing.

You suckled on his cock, gently but eagerly. His hand kept playing with your hair guiding your head; he was fucking your face ever so gently and the realization made you whine.

Your eyes rolled back, and you heard some noise from Larry. He was standing up and moving in the room. It didn't take long for you to hear his voice, his lips close to your ear.

“Thank you, darling,” Larry whispered into your ear. “For being a good girl, for me.”

You whimpered, grabbing Hopper’s thighs. Your eyes closed, focused on Larry’s voice, Hopper’s taste on your tongue. Larry always praised you when you were doing something that felt dirty. He was absolutely shameless, but he knew you were not. So he always gave you what you wanted, and made sure you had to admit to yourself you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. You loved being his ‘little whore’ as he lovingly called you.

“I thought you were just going to watch,” Hopper grunted, but in too much pleasure to sound annoyed.

“I’m helping.” Larry stood up. “We don’t have much time, she needs to be prepared for that monster of yours.”

“Let me do it,” Hopper said, looking into your eyes and smiling, his hands around your face, gently. He pulled from your mouth, sighing. “I wish I had more time to play with you, sweetheart; and I really want to fuck you. Stand up.”

“This is just an introduction. If she likes you, we can set something up.”

“We? So you’re going to watch every time?” Hopper asked Larry, as you stood up. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, then his lips were over yours.

“She wants me to watch. She knows I like seeing her enjoying herself.” Larry said, very matter of fact. He was right, you wanted him to watch, to take care of you as you had your fun. “Besides, maybe you get used to me, and we can fuck her together. I’m pretty sure she would love to have you up her ass, while I fuck her lovely pussy.”

Larry knew dirty talk was a weakness of yours and he played the part to perfection. You looked at him, mouth half open, eyes wide, and nodded.

“She really likes dirty talk,” He shrugged, talking to Hopper. “You should try telling her what you want to do.”

Hopper growled, grabbed the hair on the back of your head, and kissed you again, one hand sliding over your back and squeezing your ass.

“Take your panties off and lay on the desk, face up.” He said, softly against your lips.

You did as you were told, as Hopper took his pants off and opened his shirt. You could see he wanted so much more of this encounter. Larry could see it too, and it made him feel proud of you. His beautiful little slut.

Larry fondly looked at you, squeezing his cock, his eyes soft and gentle.

“Look at that.” Hopper muttered to himself, rubbing his thumb up and down your pussy, “Pretty.” He leaned and licked you gently, his pleasure evident in his moans. “So wet.”

You moaned, his voice vibrating against your skin. Larry chuckled, which made Hopper grunt and stand up.

“I really hope you stay quiet next time, Larry.” Hopper almost growled, sneering.

“Next time?” You asked, softly, surprised.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You could feel Hopper’s cock, the head thick and hard, pressed against your hole. “If this hole feels half as good as your mouth, there will be several next times.”

He thrusted, pressing the tip of his cock lightly into your hole repeatedly. You relaxed, moaned and he inched forward, then pulled back, going back to his gentle thrusting. You whimpered at his size. There was no pain, just an exquisite burning as he kept moving, teasing.

“That’s just the tip, baby.” Hopper grabbed your hips, tense. You were so warm, so tight, his whole body screamed for him to just bully his cock into your cunt in one thrust. You grabbed his hands, as he kept moving, inching inside you every few thrusts. “Gonna make it fit, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

Larry watched, from the side, smiling. You were beautiful, wide eyed, your eyes blinking back tears, your mouth half open in sweet agony. Hopper growled, trying to control himself. Larry understood perfectly how Hopper felt that moment; he had been in that situation many times with you. He actually appreciated Hopper’s restraint.

“Fuck!” Hopper growled, frustrated, squeezing your hips.

“Right?” Larry moaned softly, Hopper’s growls and grunts making him think of how good you felt around him, how tight and warm you were. “She’s perfect.”

Larry’s smile was warm, his eyes kind. He was proud of you, as you bit back your moans and gave yourself into pleasure. The more debauched your behavior, the sweetest he became. His hand moved so slowly. Hopper pushed more of his cock inside you, and your eyes rolled back.

“Yeah.” Hopper pushed, and you felt his balls, resting against your ass. Your body went slack from the sensation; you felt deliciously full, and it was too much, but you felt so delighted that you could take it all. “You’re lucky he found you first. This way you can have both of us. I would never share. You should thank Larry.”

Hopper grabbed your face and turned you to the blonde man, as he started to thrust, now his whole length sliding into you. You were filled to the brim, stretched beyond belief, the feeling so powerful it overcame all your senses, short-circuiting your brain. He had just started and you were already too close, your body slack on his hands.

“Thank Larry.” Hopper growled, grabbing your throat and squeezing gently. “Be the good little slut I know you are and thank him.”

“Thank you, Lawrence.” You gasped, and your words came out almost as a moan. Larry watched you closely, his pleased smile even wider now.

“You know your pleasure is my pleasure, darling.” Larry said; his honeyed voice, so filled with awe and joy, sent you into your orgasm. You felt yourself tighten impossibly, Hopper’s thrusts got harder as you came around him, and he just lasted a few more thrusts.

You panted, eyes closed, your body still trembling in the aftershocks of your pleasure. Hopper slid from you, gently thumbing your clit.

“Thank you.” Hopper said, for no one in particular. He pulled his pants up, and Larry, king of self control and delayed gratification, tucked himself into his pants. He quickly buttoned his shirt and soon the only evidence of what happened was your body, sprawled on Larry’s desk, come trickling from your hole. You felt gloriously dirty and the whole situation just made you want it to start all over again.

Hopper moved to the door, but hesitated. He turned back, hands on his hips.

“Look…” He said, gently. “I’d love to have dinner sometime. Talk about turning this into a more permanent arrangement.”

“Are you trying to bully yourself into my relationship, Jim? That’s low.” Larry laughed, and you chuckled, sitting up, watching both men.

“Had to try, pussy’s that good.” Hopper winked at you and quickly left the office.

“The audacity, for fuck’s sake!” Larry laughed, turning to you and pushing you to cuddle in his sofa. He arranged your body over his, and just caressed you, moving his hands all over your body. “Did you have fun? Was it as good as your fantasy, darling?” He teased.

“He’s impressive. It’s way too much, but man… It’s impressive.” You chuckled, nuzzling his neck, kissing his chin.

“Ooooh, but you like when it’s too much, don’t you? My sweet slut…” Larry tilted your chin up and kissed your lips. You blushed, your pleasure evident.

“I keep thinking of you talking about him fucking my ass.” You confessed softly.

“Would you like that?” Larry asked, brushing his lips against your ear. “He would be overjoyed, I bet. I don’t think there are too many brave little sluts out there who would want that challenge.”

“Fuck, Larry.” You shivered. “I’m getting wet again.”

“Good.”

[lailyn]

Heaven Is A Bucket of Prawns

Whumptober Day 8: Everything Hurts & I’m Dying/Stomach Pain

"You're quiet."

"Your power of observation astounds me as usual," Loki said listlessly.

Stephen was not fooled. He could read Loki's deflections almost as well as his silences, and his sort-of boyfriend's silence tonight was of the suspicious kind, if not a little alarming.

Was it the movie? Had he chosen the wrong one to watch?

But Just Like Heaven's a classic! An inside voice argued. Why wouldn't Loki like it?

"We can watch something else if rom-coms aren't your thing?" Stephen suggested for the second time that night; he never did receive Loki's answer the first time he asked it.

"The movie's fine," Loki said vaguely.

"Well, what is it then?"

Loki abruptly stood. "I need to go to the bathroom.”

Stephen tried to suppress a sigh but it exited his nose instead, inadvertently coming across more irritated than he intended. It was typical of Loki, avoiding conversations when clearly something was up.

The bathroom visits became a repeat occurrence, and soon, Stephen became too distracted to focus on the movie. When Loki returned to the couch after his third trip to the toilet, Stephen pounced.

"What's wrong?” Stephen asked, noting the poorly concealed look of distress on Loki’s face. “Are you okay?"

Loki sighed, digging his fingers into his waist. "Something I ate isn't agreeing with me."

Stephen watched Loki swallow compulsively like someone trying hard not to be sick. His boyfriend sure looked green around the gills. "Did you throw up?"

"I tried," Loki huffed. "It mostly hurts.”

A pang of déjàvu hit Stephen like a freight truck. It had been a little over a month since Loki’s brush with death, and no, Stephen was not being dramatic. He still had the occasional nightmares about it. “You…it’s not that thing again, is it?”

“What are you on about?” Loki mumbled, trying to make himself comfortable but no amount of fidgeting was helping.

“Peptic ulcers have a recurrence rate of up to thirty percent within the first year, even with religious use of PPIs.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly religious.”

Loki gave a derisive snort. “Now there’s a marker of a date night going well. You start throwing statistics around and flaunting your conscientiousness.”

Stephen grabbed the remote control out of Loki’s hand and pressed the pause button.

A weak protest, “Hey, I was watching that.”

“No, you weren’t. This isn’t the nineties, we can replay it anytime,” Stephen said. He pushed himself, and all the cushions, off of the couch. "Lie down."

As expected, Loki's stubborn streak reared its head. "I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that. Lie down."

"You can't tell me what to do," Loki said petulantly.

"I can when the last time you told me you had a stomach ache, it turned out to be an ulcer and you almost bled to death on my operating table."

Loki averted his eyes. "I didn't tell you anything.”

"My point exactly." Stephen said. "Abdominal surgery is the most common cause of adhesions, and adhesions cause more than half of small bowel obstructions."

"You're being paranoid, you know that? Paranoid and overbearing," Loki complained. "It's unattractive."

"Ballpark figure is seventy percent," Stephen continued his rant. "We can talk about my looks later."

"Strange, I can tell the difference between food poisoning and a bowel obstruction. I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're absolutely the smartest person I know, coz now you're going to let me have a feel, okay?" Stephen pleaded. He patted the armrest. "You were right. I am paranoid. Humor me."

"Honestly!" Loki threw himself back onto the couch with a huff, followed closely by a soft, pained ‘Damn’ when the movement induced a wave of cramps that rippled across his abdomen. “Ow, ow, ow…”

Stephen could only follow with worried eyes as Loki shot out of his seat and staggered for the bathroom again. When he returned a few minutes later, he was a few shades paler than normal and sweating lightly, his hair clinging to the sides of his head like a crown of thorns.

Loki crawled into Stephen’s lap on his own volition, a testament to how utterly wretched he must be feeling. It was an awkward position, and hardly the most ideal to conduct a proper examination in, but at least Loki was horizontal enough that Stephen could slip a clinical hand in to feel his belly.

It felt warm to the touch as though Loki was running a bit of a temperature, but it was soft, with no one part more tender than the other. A turbulence rumbled beneath Stephen’s palm, a cacophonous borborygmus that hinted at a more innocent, but no less worrying, cause of Loki’s suffering.

He fished his stethoscope out from under the coffee table.

"You keep your stuff in the most random places," Loki observed critically. "How did you even know it was there?"

"One’s allowed to be messy, as long as one knows one’s own mess," Stephen said, shrugging. He pressed the diaphragm of the stethoscope to Loki's belly and listened for a good ten seconds, before presenting his findings to his patient.

“It sounds like a circus in there," Stephen commented. "I think the shrimps and the fish tacos are duking it out."

"Please," Loki groaned, gripping his stomach tighter. "Don't mention food. I don't think there's anything left in me to evacuate."

“Yeah, a bad case of Montezuma’s revenge will do that to you,” Stephen winced in sympathy. He nodded at a glass on the table. "Do you think you can keep down some fluids? I can put you on a drip if that's easier."

Loki allowed Stephen to help him up and accepted the glass, eyeing the effervescent, radioactive-looking liquid with dread. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Stephen took one look at the back of Loki's white, shaky hand and changed his mind. "Not gonna be easy, with your veins all collapsed like that. Drink up, you need to replenish your electrolytes."

Loki glared at his boyfriend over his Hydralyte. “You and your electrolytes."

"What can I say? It's my love language," Stephen deadpanned.

Loki almost choked, electrolyte water spurting out of his nose and quite possibly, from his eyeballs too. "You fucker."

"Seriously, what did you think it was? The takeout tasted fine, and we both ate the same thing," Stephen said.

"Not at lunch, we didn't." Loki grimaced at the memory. "I think the prawn cocktails they served at that drug talk today were dodgy."

“Drug talk?” Stephen’s forehead furrowed into a thousand creases. “But Merck & Co always do great lunches.”

Loki shook his head, looking nauseated all of a sudden. “Pfizer.”

“Yeah…they can be a hit-and-miss,” Stephen clicked his tongue in disapproval. Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait. Were you feeling sick before you came over?"

Loki fixated on something very interesting on Stephen’s ceiling. “You should get that crack checked out. There, in the corner right there - ”

“Odinson,” he growled.

“Give me a break, Strange. It’s my first night off in weeks!” Loki’s voice dropped to a sullen mumble. “Yours too.”

Understanding finally dawned on Stephen, as did an avalanche of exasperation and a flight of fluffy, fluttery butterflies. “Loki, if you’re sick, you’re sick. These things happen.”

“Yes, but why always to me?” Loki mourned.

“Doctor Masterson would beg to differ,” Stephen said, referring to the female lead character in the movie they had just half-watched. “All that time spent working herself to death only for a car accident to do her in when she’s on the verge of finding love. I told you, you gotta listen to your body when it’s trying to tell you things.”

Loki sniffed. “You do realise you’re feeding me philosophical advice from a movie.”

“It’s a good movie, apparently,” Stephen said. “My scrub nurse recommended it.”

“Let me guess. She’s into Mark Ruffalo.”

“Everyone’s into Mark Ruffalo. I think it’s all that hair.”

Loki broke into a chuckle, but it was cut short when his stomach seized again, this time with a cramp so horrendous it left him prostrated in Stephen’s lap and shaking like a leaf.

"God, this fucking hurts," Loki moaned into Stephen's thigh. "I think I'm dying."

Stephen rubbed comforting circles on Loki’s back. “There's nothing more reassuring to me than you admitting that you feel like shit. You'll live."

Loki could sense Stephen fussing over him but he hardly registered it, so thoroughly consumed by the raging pain in his stomach.

A few excruciating seconds later, the cramp passed, and Loki unfolded himself gingerly. He clasped a hand over Stephen’s, only now realising it had been there the whole time, massaging the knots in his belly.

“Are you okay? Should we go to the ER anyway?”

“And let people see me like this? We’ll be the laughingstock of the whole hospital.”

“I don’t give a shit about other people.”

Loki heard the sick anxiety in Stephen’s voice and was instantly overcome by guilt. “I’m sorry, Stephen.”

“What the hell for?”

For coming over. For being a bother. For noticing the prawn had smelled a little funky and eating it anyway.

“Did you know E. coli smells like Worcestershire sauce?”

“You can’t see, smell or taste E. coli,” Stephen said flatly.

Loki could do without seeing the worry in Stephen’s eyes. It was terribly ageing on him.

“I’ll be fine, Stephen,” he said firmly. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

A look of sadness fell over Stephen’s face. “Yeah, I know.”

Loki sighed; he could not help feeling sorry for himself. “This wasn’t how I imagined tonight was going to be.”

“How did you imagine tonight was going to be?”

Loki shrugged. “Certainly not you giving me a belly rub like a five-year-old.”

Stephen’s face softened. “I don’t mind it.”

“I ruined our movie night.”

“It’s just a movie,” Stephen said. "There's always next time."

“You're right," Loki mumbled. "There'll be more things to ruin next time."

"That's the spirit," Stephen said fondly. He ran his fingers through clumps of Loki's lank hair. "You idiot. Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“I took a couple of Imodium from your medicine cabinet.”

“That’s not an answer, Loki.”

Loki was quiet for a while. “Maybe I don’t have one. Not yet, anyway.”

He braved a glance upward. “Is that…okay?”

Stephen slowly bent and gave Loki an upside down kiss. “Silly Loki. Do you really have to ask?”

A rumbling sound emanated from somewhere in the region of Loki's midsection.

“Should I go get a bucket?” Stephen whispered huskily. “I should go get a bucket.”

“Yes, oh yes.” For how could Loki refuse? It was the most romantic offer of a bucket Loki had ever received in his entire life. “You most definitely should.”

[christina-stark-skarlet-stileto]

Why Did You Leave Day 4

Damian was having one of those melancholy days. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't sad either, he was just kinda meh. Today, he would meet his mother. After his breakdown on Monday, Christina had arranged a meeting for them. He just wanted answers; he didn't really want to get to know her.

How could someone who gave him to a vile organization like Hydra, expect to waltz back into his life with no repercussions? Why after all these years did she choose to come back? He wanted to think she’d changed, but he doubted it. Yes he would meet with her, but he wouldn't trust her. He had school because it was Thursday. So he got up, went downstairs, found Christina, and got ready. After school they would be meeting his mom at Stark Industries because he really couldn't go anywhere in public with his mom because imagine the field day the press would have with that. Not worth it. They went to school, endured more of Flash's pathetic teasing, and then went home.

They had an hour before his mom got there, and he could finally ask the one question that had been burning in his mind since he was old enough to understand what happened. "Why did you leave?" He wondered every single day what the answer was. Was he not good enough? Did she just not want him? Was she forced to give him up, or did she want to? if he got answers, how could he know if she was telling the truth. He was getting ready. The company had sixteen different departments. When the four of them became the CEO'S each one of them ran four departments, so they didn't get overwhelmed. It was still a lot, because they had branches in every state and a few major countries. So he was still dressed professionally even though he was meeting his mother. Also partly (read mostly) because he knew Christina liked it when he got dressed up. After getting ready and then checking on Christina, He took her hand, and they went downstairs to their shared office. They were going over their expansion plans for the compound when the com went off.

"Young Boss, Mini Boss Lady, I have Evelyn Obadia in Conference Room Three to see you." The secretary stated.

"We'll be right there, thank you." Damian replied. They walked into Conference Room Three, and saw a woman with dark hair and pale skin.

"Mrs. Obadia, my name is Christina. I'm going to start out by saying that we are allowing you here because you claim to be Damian's mother. With that being said, if you have any ill intent, I will know. I am trained to read people very well. For example, the way you're ever so slightly squirming tells me that you are nervous.” Then She continued.

“There are going to be a few ground rules. First, do not make any rude remarks about Damian or myself, as well as our family. Second, to be able to continue this conversation, you must agree to being recorded. Technically, you don't need to, but because I'm telling you, I will give you a choice. Third, we will keep this civil, however long that remains true is ultimately up to you." Christina explained, with the air of a lioness waiting to pounce.

"Yes, I agree, darling, no need to be so harsh," Evelyn replied.

"Okay then, let's begin." Christina said.

"Why did you leave?" Damian began. It was the most important question to him. He wanted answers, real answers. Not some half baked response formed out of a need for words.

"I'm going to give you five minutes to think about it, then I want the truth and nothing but." Damian said. He couldn't allow himself to get emotional right now. Evelyn couldn't tell, but Damian was tracking her heart rate with his enhanced hearing. He would be able to tell if she lied to him. He and Christina were like walking polygraphs, and had very in-depth training on how to use their powers. They knew how to detect a lie from a person’s heart rate. They could do it so well that it was second nature to them. Also the mug that Evelyn was holding had a heart monitor in it as well. It was built into the mug, and if you didn't read up on it, you would think that it moved on a scheduled program. Five minutes had passed.

"Do you have your answer?" Damian asked,

"I left to protect you?" Evelyn answered.

"Like, you sound so sure of that answer. Let's try this again please." Christina interjected.

"Why did you leave me with Hydra?" Damian asked again, putting a bit more force behind his words.

"Because you were better off with them," Evelyn tried.

"Oh, because leaving a helpless five year old with a bunch of evil assassins was so much better than growing up with loving parents. Try again." Damian spat venomously.

"Now, now, that's no way to speak to your mother is it?" Evelyn chimed in a patronizing tone.

"You may have given birth to me, but I do not consider you my mother even though for years I wanted to. You gave up that right when you gave me away. The only reason you are here instead of in jail is because I want answers. So you have twenty minutes. Start talking." Damian ground out dangerously calm, and coursing with red hot fury.

"Fine, fine, no need to be so pushy about it. When you were born Adonijah and I were happy. Or at least he was. He was gallivanting across the world saving people. I was with Hydra, I had been since before you were born. I sought out Adonijah with the intent to give our child to Hydra. You were perfect. I started threatening him into giving you away. Then after you were gone he left, and dropped off the map. After a while I heard about you and left Hydra. Then I came here because some part of me still loves you." Evelyn said.

"No, you're still part of Hydra. And you have never loved me. I understand now, you left because you didn't care about me. You're going to Shield now. They can deal with your lies." Damian spat.

"Don't even think about escaping because if you do I will hunt you down and haul you back there myself." Christina added, with a dangerous glint in her glowing blue eyes.

"One thing to consider, Damian, you have a little sister, so think about it. When you want more information, you know where I'll be." Evelyn muttered darkly, then she walked to the waiting Shield agents, and was taken into custody.

[rule-number-3]

I had this idea for a fic, I would propably never write, shame, I love it, so I can at least share the concept... I mean, why waste it, good AU concept is fun to read too. I hope you don't mind, because it gets loooong.

So, because I am sucker for redemtion arcs (well writen not just thrown on us like we were stupid) I was thinking of HOW I would do red.arc. for Bullar? I came up with what comes:

It is post ROTT timeline where Jim is a trollhunter. He is trying to make things right but the timeline goes WILD very qickly. Mainly because Stricler noticed that his enemies, seem to know things they shouldn't and gets far more caucious. I feel like Stricler would be far more dangerous villian if he just took Jim more seriously.

Somehow, Bular gets affected by that "human potion" from Gattos trasure. For the purpose of the story I am assuming it was not an accidental mix of potions, but really just one of them that will work the same no matter if it is thrown into the lava or just spilled on someone.

So Bular the Bucher is a temporarily human and super unhappy about that. He also don't know what is happenineg but he knows that Stricler will take that opportunity to ruin his possition, maybe even convince Gunmar, that his son is a lost case.

Bular is driven by one motivation, gaining and keeping his father's affection forever. And he well knows that Gunmar is loving him only as long as Bular is his perfect subject.

Oh, yeah, Gunmar is a bad father in this version. He is a true psychopat and is rally not capable of loving anyone but himself, and he views Bular as an extension of him, his smaller copy. Every time Bular does something Gunmar wouln't do, he is pissed. o B just learned to copy whatever he thing his father would do, incorporating anything he says as his own, never really developing own ideas.

He is okay, as long as he is strong as he is winning, and now he is not only weak, but a crature most despised by Gumm-Gumms. So, basically he has a problem.

Bular is not accustomed to being a fleshbag and heunderstans them far less than Blinky, so he is not doing very good. He runs from the changeling, untrusting of them (understandably after he terrorised and killed them for so long). And he is captured by Trollhunter,and the don't really know what to do with him.

Akiridions come to earth ealier that in Oryginal Timeline. Maybe because Morando's close encounter with godgood gave him ability to partially remember previous timelines, so he acts differenly? Not shure.

Bular beigns to form relationships with the good guys espesially with Varvados, ARRGGHH!!, Mothership, Toby and Krel in that order. He laerns a lot baout being a human, and that life can be more than just fighting, killing and eating. That there is more to honor than wnning, and that for parental love you don't need to deserve.

The concept really extended above my expectations and thats why I don't think I could write it.

There was a whole ass intrigue around Bular's second parent, and Varvados were supposed to turn from "worthy enemy" to the real "fraher figure" for Bular.

I think Bular is the character I've seen people want a redemption arc for the most out of all the ToA villains which makes sense. Good character, easy potential for a side switch since Gunmar is his main motivation and there are plenty of ways to work with that, around just long enough to make a strong impression but not too long that it's hard to work around his story and personality. I constantly forget he's only around for the first half of the first season then only like 5 total minutes of Wizards.

This is a fun take on how he can get reformed. The best and only logical way for someone as bullheaded as Bular to even consider switching sides is to have their power stripped away. And nothing is more humiliating than turning into a pathetic, squishy fleshbag, especially when Strickler absolutely would pounce on any opportunity to rise above his own station like you said.

I would love any interaction between Bular and Varvatos if only to see who could come up with the most creative ways to threaten a person.

I can relate to getting an idea that goes way beyond what you can/feel confident writing. I have so many ideas and projects I just never finished because I manage to overwhelm myself.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-26 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️  6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

Information on the Chapter title (helpful to know): Wikipedia | My notes

--

Abandoned Archive Library

Just when I wanted to get in touch with Zuo Ran about going to the archive library to investigate, Zuo Ran called me with perfect timing.

He had also been pondering the whole time about the location of the target, and with unplanned similarity, we thought about this archive library.

Zuo Ran: The people monitoring Fu Qiao tonight lost him. On his side of things, Leader Yan is dispatching people on search.

Zuo Ran: Leader Yan has also already dispatched people to rush towards the few suspicious art galleries nearby, and they’ll be investigating at the same time as us.

MC: If we can find Chen Hanzhang’s secret location one step ahead, then this case can be solved earlier.

Zuo Ran: Coming to a pitch-black place like this in the middle of the night – are you scared?

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you’ve forgotten – I’m not scared of ghosts to begin with.

At our law firm’s last team building exercise, Zuo Ran and I went to a haunted house together.

Hearing me say this, Zuo Ran relaxed and smiled, obviously also remembering the experience in the haunted house.

Zuo Ran: In a moment, follow me closely and walk behind me. You must be careful of what’s under your feet in particular.

MC: I understand.

I took flashlights out of my bag and handed one to Zuo Ran.

MC: I’ve brought two flashlights, so we can each have one. Let’s head out.

Zuo Ran led me to the abandoned archive library’s front courtyard. Here, the ground was piled thickly with fallen leaves, as well as all sorts of decorative garbage that nearby residents had tossed here.

I basically understood why the police ruled out this place after a simple search… Looking at the shattered glass windows on the outside and the useless door, this place really did not seem like a place to store important products.

--

Inside the Archive Library

The lighting in the archive library was better than we’d imagined. Light from the streets shone in from the street-facing windows, so we didn’t really need to turn on the flashlights.

MC: The first and second floors are completely deserted – they’re empty with only some abandoned furniture left.

Zuo Ran: The conditions on the third floor might not be that similar.

MC: Eh?

Following the stairs, I looked towards the third floor. At the same time, Zuo Ran turned on the flashlight and shone it towards the third-floor staircase opening.

There was an electronic password door that had been opened.

MC: This archive building was built at the beginning of last century, and it belonged to a private collector.

MC: Though the first and second floors are abandoned, it’s evident that the remaining furniture is in last century’s style.

MC: This electronic door is clearly a product of recent years.

Zuo Ran: It indicates that this place has been changed by someone.

Zuo Ran: Most of the old buildings of the north district are private properties, and some of the property owners are even foreigners, so the houses have sat idle for many years with no one to manage them.

Zuo Ran: In the past few years, cases about the occupation of old buildings by lawbreakers have also appeared. This may also be the case here.

MC: No wonder the police didn’t notice any suspicious locations from checking through the properties under Chen Hanzhang’s name.

MC: If she occupied an old building in the north district that seems like it has no inhabitants, the police wouldn’t be able to find it at all.

Zuo Ran: Let’s go up and look – careful on the stairs.

--

Zuo Ran walked in front of me with the flashlight on. We arrived at the stairway opening and carefully looked over that electronic password lock.

Zuo Ran: It doesn’t look like it was opened by force. The password lock is still operating like normal.

MC: Is there someone in the building right now? It doesn’t seem like it…

From a bird’s-eye view, this three-level building was in an “H” shape, and each level had four large rooms. If we used the staircase’s location as the centre, the locations of the four large rooms were northeast, northwest, southwest, and southeast.

Zuo Ran and I had looked in every corner of the first and second floors just now, and we didn’t notice a single person. The entire building was also completely quiet – you could even hear the sound of a pin drop. We didn’t hear movement sounds of anyone else.

Zuo Ran: The third-floor design isn’t the same as on lower floors.

Zuo Ran’s flashlight swept over the floor.

Zuo Ran: It seems like the floorboards here were given specific soundproofing treatment. The audiovisuals room at my house also has a similar setup.

MC: Which also means that, as we can’t hear sounds of movement upstairs, this door might have been ignored by someone who came before…

MC: Another possibility is that the visitor is still here and hasn’t left.

When I thought about this, I couldn’t help tensing up my back.

Zuo Ran: Don’t be afraid. I’m right beside you.

My slightly cold fingers suddenly fell in the middle of warmth – it was Zuo Ran, holding my hand.

MC: Lawyer Zuo…

Zuo Ran: Hold onto my hand… th-this way, it’ll be a little safer.

MC: Mhmm…

Like this, as I shone my flashlight, Zuo Ran led me onwards as I walked side-by-side with him…

The moonlight tonight shone brightly, passing through the window and spilling over Zuo Ran’s body, outlining his straight and handsome profile.

I originally thought that people like Zuo Ran would probably look cold with moonlight on them. But I never would’ve thought… that there would actually be a sliver of a different kind of warmth.

I had never looked at him from this angle, under moonlight like this. Inexplicably, at this moment, I wanted to keep looking at him like this…

Zuo Ran: Why have you been looking at me the whole time? Is there something on my face?

MC: There isn’t…

MC: It might be because it’s too quiet that I haven’t quite adapted…

Zuo Ran: Then talk a bit, although you must be somewhat quiet.

>Select: Face

Zuo Ran: If there’s time, would you like to go to the haunted house again?

MC: With you, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: Of course.

MC: Sure then. I heard that the themed amusement park’s haunted house has changed to a new story recently, so it’s perfect timing for us to try it out.

Zuo Ran: Then let’s wait for the weekend.

 >Select: Neck

MC: Aside from cufflinks, tie clips and collar pins, it seems like I rarely see Lawyer Zuo wear jewelry.

Zuo Ran: Watches also count as jewelry, right?

MC: Oh right, they also count.

Zuo Ran: If I attend certain special occasions, I will dress up, and I’ll occasionally accessorize with jewelry.

MC: Could you give an example?

Zuo Ran: I participated in a costume party in university, and I wore earrings for it.

Zuo Ran: Mm… it felt a little uncomfortable, and I couldn’t really adapt to it.

 >Select: Hair

MC: Under the moonlight… it looks like your hair has been layered over with silver light.

Zuo Ran: Do you mean… a hair full for frost?

MC: …

Zuo Ran: Frost with moonlight is imagery that often appears in literature and movies.

Zuo Ran: What often follows this is a beautiful woman who hopes for return.

MC: Waiting? If it is a happy ending, it will be worth it no matter how long she waits.

Zuo Ran: We don’t know how many people can return before the moonlight runs out – only the moon rocks with longing, lighting the forests by the river…*

Zuo Ran: If it were me, I would not make the person waiting for me wait too long.

Zuo Ran: I would rather be the person waiting.

  TL Note: Please see the full translation of the poem that Zuo Ran recited a line from here! The translation I used also comes from this site.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: Lawyer Zuo, it seems like there’s a room in front of us.

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the northwest direction.

>Open door

Artwork Display Room

MC: Seems like this place… is a place for the collection of antiques and artwork.

Zuo Ran: This password lock is not turned on. Looks like this room was originally in use, but it was later abandoned.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that crystal bust. Does it look like… Chen Hanzhang?

Most of these things in this room were placed in complete disorder. The hung pictures on the wall were crooked, and there were also piles of artwork and porcelain pieces on the ground.

Only this half-bodied crystal bust was placed safely in the display case.

Zuo Ran: It’s very much alike. You could say that it’s a perfect imitation.

MC: This expression really is… a perfect replication of Chen Hanzhang’s classic smile.

Proud, confident, and it even hid a bit of fierceness.

MC: Was this thing given to Chen Hanzhang?

Zuo Ran: It’s not very common to see half-bodied busts like this used as gifts.

Zuo Ran: Perhaps it has a special commemorative meaning.

When we turned the bust upside down, we saw two rows of words on the bottom.

Zuo Ran: “From the beginning to the end, regardless of how you change, you are still you…”

MC: On the bottom-right angle, are those numbers?

MC: It looks like someone deliberately ground it off.

On the bottom-right corner, there probably had been a long line of numbers originally, but aside from the first digit “1” and the last digit “4”, there was no way to identify the rest.

I touched the base of the bust, and felt that the side of the base had an uneven area.

MC: Rose?

I found that place and noticed that a four-petaled flower had been carved there, with the single English word “Rose” on the side.

MC: The rose has four petals?

Zuo Ran: Perhaps… this does not point to a rose in the general meaning.

MC: …

>Select: Hanging drawings

I shone my flashlight at the hanging drawings on the wall. I could only see that it was an oil painting, and I couldn’t distinguish who the creator was.

Zuo Ran: These drawings may have been purchased by Gu Wei.

MC: How did you know?

Zuo Ran: Look here. There is a row of little words on the bottom-right corner.

I sidled over and carefully looked them over, and only then did I see what the little words that Zuo Ran was talking about were.

MC: “Gu Wei, year of 2010 at Qinlun Auction House…”

MC: Lawyer Zuo, your eyesight is way too good – you were even able to see this with a glance.

Zuo Ran: I typically drink liver-cleansing, eye-clearing tea. Perhaps it was fruitful.

 >Select: Piles on the ground

MC: These drawings and porcelain works have been piled here like garbage. The porcelain’s all broken.

Zuo Ran: Regardless of who their past owner was, it’s obvious their new owner was not interested in them, even feeling disgust.

MC: There’s even a fairly sharp hammer left here. Looks like it was used when smashing the porcelain.

Zuo Ran: Careful, don’t get cut by the porcelain shards.

 >Select: Bust

MC: (If it were a present, who could it be that sent it to Chen Hanzhang? Gu Wei…?)

MC: (What exactly was the relationship between them like…?)

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: We probably have found the right place – otherwise, why would this place have Chen Hanzhang’s bust.

MC: …

[Got Crystal Bust!]

MC: There aren’t any things like blackmail crime evidence or illegal drugs in this room. Let’s go somewhere else and see.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Suit

MC: Will it be hard for you to walk around, wearing your suit here, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: After returning home, I didn’t have time to change clothes before I came out again.

Zuo Ran: But it’s alright. If it hinders my movement later, I can take off the suit.

 >Select: Face

Zuo Ran: After getting off work and returning home earlier, did you already wash up?

MC: How did you know?

Zuo Ran: Hmm… the scent on your body should be that of shower gel.

MC: Mhmm, I can relax from taking a hot shower.

Zuo Ran: Working as my partner, you might often encounter these kinds of sudden situations, which will upset your original lifestyle.

Zuo Ran: Same for joining NXX.

MC: But it’ll also bring me different life experiences – I like that a lot.

Zuo Ran: Mhmm, I also like it a lot.

 >Select: Eyes

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you read so many books, yet you actually don’t wear glasses.

Zuo Ran: My mother works so much that she doesn’t have time for anything, yet she is able to make time to concern herself with my health, especially my eyesight.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: My mother said, with an ice-cold personality like mine, there definitely wouldn’t be any girls who like me in the future.

Zuo Ran: If I also wear glasses and end up looking like an old fogey, it’ll be even more so…

MC: I didn’t think that Professor An was such a humorous person. Though she cared about the students in my impression of her, she always looked very serious.

Zuo Ran: My mother was actually joking around. It’s just that the time she spends interacting with me is little, and she doesn’t know how to express her concern.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: (I’m walking through a building like this in the middle of the night, yet I actually don’t feel scared.)

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the southwest direction.

>Open door

Drug Storage Room

This room also had not been locked, but on the door, the electronic lock’s indicator light was lit up, indicating that this place was not abandoned.

When we pushed open the door and entered, a familiar scent assaulted our senses.

MC: They’re the drugs!

Zuo Ran immediately took out his phone to take photos and sent the photo and archive library location to Yan Wei.

Zuo Ran: Be a little careful. We should do our utmost to not bump or break anything in here.

MC: Understood!

Just like if when people find a large stash of cash in a money-related case, where to avoid suspicion, every single person on the scene will avoid the stolen cash until the police arrive.

MC: Though the area here isn’t small, it seems like it hasn’t been filled with drugs.

>Select: Further cabinet

Zuo Ran: This row of drug cabinets has things on them. The scent seems to be coming from this direction.

MC: There are no marks on the drugs – it seems like we have no way to identify that they’re Chen Hanzhang’s.

Zuo Ran: Look at the logo on this shelf – it’s Wiley Financial’s.

MC: Now we’ve caught both the person and the goods!

 >Select: Nearer cabinet

MC: Looks like this row of drug cabinets is empty.

Zuo Ran: If this room was filled with drugs, then this would be a large case that would shock the entire nation.

Zuo Ran: Although, to be able to make so much storage space specifically for the drugs, Chen Hanzhang’s ambition is not small.

 >Select: Panel

MC: This is the control panel to control the room’s internal temperature, moisture, as well as oxygen levels.

MC: I originally thought that Chen Hanzhang was using the equipment that the archive room originally had. I didn’t think she’d install a completely new one.

Zuo Ran: This equipment has requirements for ventilation and humidity piping.

Zuo Ran: Aside from new houses, if old buildings want to install them, they must have reserved space to begin with.

Zuo Ran: It’s within reason for Chen Hanzhang to choose an abandoned archive library for modifications.

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: Don’t go in yet. Wait until Leader Yan comes.

MC: Okay.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Face

MC: Lawyer Zuo, are you a little too tired and slightly overheated recently? I see that your lips are peeling.

Zuo Ran: I…

Zuo Ran: That might be, I drink less water when going out on work.

MC: Tomorrow at work, I’ll buy you a lip balm from the downstairs convenience store. I know a really good brand.

Zuo Ran: Okay, thank you.

 >Select: Sleeve

MC: Aside from shooting and swimming, do you like other sports, Lawyer Zuo?

MC: I remember that during university, to stay fit and look good, lots of guys would learn things like mixed martial arts.

Zuo Ran: I’m not skilled at sports like these. Aside from shooting and swimming…

Zuo Ran: Does bridge count? An exercise of mental strength.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you know how to play bridge?

Zuo Ran: When relaxing, I sometimes go to bridge clubs to play.

Zuo Ran: Playing cards actually comes second – what’s important is chatting with friends and relaxing.

MC: If there’s a chance, could you teach me? I’ve heard that bridge is very interesting.

Zuo Ran: Sure.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: (I never would’ve thought that Lawyer Zuo knows how to play bridge.)

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the southeast direction.

>Open door

 Special File Room

The door to the room was opened, but the door’s password lock was still working, and the electricity normal.

MC: Look, what’s that?

Facing the door was an indomitable-looking, transparent… closet?

I didn’t know how to describe this thing. It looked a little like a water tank or standing closet used by magicians to perform escape magic.

The closet had an electronic lock on it and was currently in locked state. The dashboard on the side displayed the oxygen levels in the closet.

The entire closet was partitioned into two parts, both different from each other. Both sides had a lever, and I didn’t know what they were used for.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, can you tell what this thing is used for?

Zuo Ran: I can’t imagine it.

Zuo Ran: Although there might be what we’re looking for in the file cabinets on these two sides.

>Select: Cabinets

Zuo Ran: Li Gang, 2 million, redeemed…

Zuo Ran: Xue Fan, 4.7 million, redeemed…

Zuo Ran: What’s placed here should be the case files of the “redeemed” people Qing Zhian talked about.

MC: There are only paper document records – there isn’t any other evidence… looks like the so-called blackmail leverage really was destroyed.

Zuo Ran: Whether it’s Gu Wei or Chen Hanzhang, once they’ve set up the rules, they must comply with them.

Zuo Ran: Otherwise, the Tiger’s Accomplice Ghosts might as well surrender to the police and go to jail, and the methods that they use to control the Ghosts would become invalid.

 >Select: Cabinets (2)

MC: Cheng Kaiyuan, August 20th, 2017, died from car crash…

I flipped through the materials on the second file cabinet. Here, all the records were of those who had already died.

Zuo Ran: There are only paper document records – looks like the related person’s physical evidence has already been destroyed.

Zuo Ran: For those who have passed, keeping their blackmail leverage is useless.

Dong—

Suddenly, a muffled sound came from outside.

MC: Someone’s there?

I lowered my voice.

Zuo Ran: Don’t panic.

We silently waited for a moment. No other sound came again.

MC: Maybe the wind knocked something over?

Zuo Ran: Act carefully, don’t lower your guard.

 >Select: Glass closet

MC: (What is this closet used for?)

MC: (From a safety perspective, I shouldn’t touch it.)

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: Fu Qiao’s crime evidence is not here, and neither is Qing Zhian’s.

MC: Let’s keep searching.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Tie

MC: Lawyer Zuo, when did you learn to tie your tie?

Zuo Ran: Why did you want to ask this? I remember it was… when I was in middle school.

MC: This early?

Zuo Ran: Mhmm, I participated in a school event, and it just so happened that the attire was dress shirt and tie.

MC: I noticed that I can tie a tie for myself, but when I tie it for others, I always get it wrong.

MC: When swapping directions, it seems like everything is different.

Zuo Ran: Perhaps you will get used to it after finding more chances to practice.

 >Select: Face

MC: Actually, Lawyer Zuo, when you smile, you really look especially handsome.

Zuo Ran: …

MC: If you typically smiled more, the colleagues at the law firm probably won’t fear you that much.

Zuo Ran: That’s also true.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: In front, over there – that should be another room, right?

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the northeast direction.

>Open door

MC: This door is closed – we need the password to open it.

Zuo Ran: Password… how many digits?

I looked at the password lock’s digit prompts.

MC: 1, 2, 3… it requires 12 digits. This design at the end… it feels like I’ve seen it somewhere.

Zuo Ran: It’s the four-petaled flower design on that crystal bust.

MC: Could the riddle’s answer be on the bust?

MC: Could the text on the bust be the riddle? Are the ground-off numbers the password?

Zuo Ran: It’s very possible.

MC: If it’s guessing riddles…

>Take a picture and send it to Xia Yan >Ask Zuo Ran

MC: Xia Yan is the most skilled when it comes to solving riddles. Let’s go to that display room and take a picture of the bust to send to Xia Yan.

Zuo Ran: No need – this riddle is very easy to solve.

 >Take a picture and send it to Xia Yan >Ask Zuo Ran

MC: Lawyer Zuo, do you have any ideas?

Zuo Ran: This riddle isn’t hard. I’ve already got the answer.

Zuo Ran: The answer to the riddle should be 1634 8208 9474. It just so happens to be the same as with the ground-off numbers – the first digit is 1 and the last digit is 4.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, how did you figure it out this quickly?

Zuo Ran: Have you heard of the four-leaf rose number?

Zuo Ran: It refers to a four-digit number. The sum of each digit to the fourth exponent equals the number itself.

Zuo Ran: There are three numbers like this. Individually, they are 1634, 8208 and 9474.

MC: So the four petals and Rose on the bust were hinting at the four-leaf rose numbers?

Zuo Ran: Not only that, but that poem-like text also meant this, and it also hinted at the order of the numbers.

Zuo Ran: “Regardless of how you change, you are still you” refers to exponents.

Zuo Ran: “From the beginning to the end” indicates that the order goes from small to large.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you really are too amazing. Are you really a law student? Your science grades must also have been great.

Zuo Ran: They’re just things that I got interested in and read about for middle school math. Typically, I’m not able to use them, and they’re not worth bringing up.

Zuo Ran: I’ll input the password. You stand behind me, a little far away.

I knew that Zuo Ran was afraid that the password lock had other safety mechanisms…

I heeded his arrangement and stood behind him, although it was not too far – it was a distance where I could reinforce him at any time.

Beep beep beep—

Right after Zuo Ran pressed the confirmation button, a quiet sound came from the door lock.

Zuo Ran: It’s open.

We pushed open the door and looked in. This was a file room again.

[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

[notnctu]

haechan: the cocky | vol 1

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :) 

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: oral, voyeurism, explicit language ☆ WC: 2,659 ☆ SYNOPSIS: on this sunny afternoon, you’re home alone while everyone else is in class... or so you thought. as haechan’s name spills from your lustful mouth, he mindlessly comes in thinking that you’re calling for him. instead, he walks in to see you fingers deep and in need of some assistance, again.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: happy halloween everyone!! pls read the background info before proceeding with the fic!! absolutely pwp, there is no real plot here besides smut LOL and yes there will be a part two ! maybe multiple parts idk yet lol depends on my story building 

Tossing your backpack into the corner of your room, you pounce on your bed as quickly as possible. There was something about Haechan’s outfit choice today: baggy relaxed pants and an oversized plain white tshirt that only he could pull off. Something about his cool, carefree attitude riles up an inexplicable part of you. And though you didn’t have much time to drool over his incredibly impressive outfit before dashing for your 10 AM, it is all that’s been running through your head.

And truthfully if you had been caught staring for even a millisecond, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him. You’ve seen this guy go two days straight sitting in his boxers and wrinkled old tee as he yells profanities at his computer monitor. Yet, in some egotistical world, Haechan still manages to be the cockiest person in the whole house.

Haechan has pulled quite a fair share of girls, but nothing in comparison to Jaehyun or Johnny. The reason behind his sly smirks and obvious traveling eyes could possibly be that he’s pulled you, quite a number of times.

Haechan never really peaked your interest until he became the one you spent the most time alone with. He is not the type to boast about his sexual encounters, so you really had to squeeze it out of him. Long talks of his cunnilingus tactics had you wet by the end of it all, not expecting that this gamer boy had such an eager passion for seeing girls squirm from his tongue.

Eager and strong enough passion to ask if he could get a taste of you, then proceeded to bring up all the moments that he has passed by your room to see you sprawled across your bed naked and rubbing one out. You had a poor habit of not closing your door all the way.

However strangely enough, you didn’t feel embarrassed that Haechan was the one who saw you. In fact, if anyone in the house did catch you masturbating, you’d hope it was him. Your relationship is comfortable to the point of seeing the worst sides of each other, you could be your true self around him because he wasn’t some playboy to impress. He is and always will be, Lee Haechan, the boy that sucks at arm wrestling.

So as you check your housemates’ locations and thinking that the coast is clear, you begin to peel off your bottoms and panties. Every naughty thought of Haechan rolls into your lustful mind. Tugging at his fluffy hair. His plushy tongue against your clit. His light spanks against your ass. His needy hands gripping your thighs. His low throaty moans.

You get into your favorite position --- ass up, on your knees and legs spread open, with your face buried in a pillow. Your hand tries to mimic his touch: gently teasing your nipples, trailing down your stomach until you reach your sensitive bud. Your fingers gather your slick and automatically, Haechan’s name escapes your lips. Closing your eyes, you recall all the times he’s eaten you out until you’ve seen stars.

Now if Haechan wasn’t so forgetful, he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back home to grab his notebook for lecture. When the boy enters the house, he takes note of your scattered shoes at the door and the faint sound of your voice. Curiously, he walks up the stairs to the rooms and hears you calling for him and concludes that you probably heard him come home.

When he approaches your slightly opened door, he sees an image that immediately halts him in his tracks. Through the rather large slit, he has the clearest view of your dripping pussy and quick fingers rubbing at your clit. And he registers your calls for moans. You were moaning his name, not calling for him.

He glances around at the other open rooms to check if anyone else is home, but that is probably why you thought it would be completely fine to not close your door, again. When he returns to the incredibly sexy scene of you masturbating to the thought of him, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t even hear his heavy breathing.

A tent forms in his pants as he feels all his blood rushing to his shaft. He’s beyond turned on, like come on, it’s him you’re thinking about. This does nothing, but fuel his already large ego. Haechan enters your room and clears his throat, “you should really learn to close your door, baby.” 

Your momentum breaks at the sheer fear of someone else’s voice. Panic settles and the first thing you see when you look up is Haechan’s small smirk. He leans against the frame of your door, arms crossed and eyes never leaving your figure.

“Why are you home?!” You throw a pillow at him, very well annoyed at his presence and for ruining your private time. Sitting up on your knees, you try covering your lower half with your blanket. Haechan is quick to stop you, while simultaneously shutting your bedroom door.

“I forgot my notebook.” He leans in, lips inches away from yours and his hand pulling the sheets off your body. “I have twenty minutes to spare, so let’s make this quick, mmh? Seems like you’re in need of my assistance... again.” His eyes are dark, and the sunlight that seeps through your shades shines so beautifully against his melanin. The faint smell of his cologne messes with your mind and god, you want him so bad and you hate that he can tell.

“Get back into your previous position and show me how you touch yourself.” He leaves a quick peck on the corners of your lips before standing at the end of your bed. 

“What if I don’t want to?” You’re not usually bratty with other partners, but Haechan’s assertiveness and overall aura draws it out of you so naturally. 

He pokes his tongue at the inside of his mouth, protruding his cheek and tilts his head at your bratty attitude. Staring you down with hungry eyes and a raised eyebrow, he says in a serious tone, “no time for games right now. You want me or not?” 

“Yes, please.” You nod with urgency once you realize that Haechan still had class to get to. Turning back around, you rest comfortably on your elbows with your knees firm on the mattress. Your hand travels down to circle your clit again, resuming your previous lustful actions before Haechan interrupted you.

Every jolt runs down your legs as a pumping surge of electricity, all the way down to your toes. Haechan palms himself watching you get back into the mood, biting his bottom lip at the delicious sight of your glistening, pretty pussy on display for him. It doesn’t take much before he hurries to get under you and in between your legs.

He lays back flat on the bed as you hover over him, your hand still rubbing intensively at your bud and your juices collecting in your palm. Taking your wrist, he guides your wet fingers into his mouth. You moan knowing your fingers are being cleaned by Haechan, him sucking your taste off of you. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groans, bringing your hips closer to his face. Without another second of hesitation, he licks a long strip across your clit. 

“Hyuck..” It has been established between the two of you that you have special rights to use his government name. He loves how hot it sounds coming from you, like it is meant to be spoken only by you. “..I’m.. already.. going to burst.”

He kisses your inner thighs, then encapsulates your bud in his mouth. Your legs give out at the mind blowing pleasure that comes with Haechan’s plushy licks. His tongue doesn’t leave your clit for more than a second, suckling and rubbing it like his life depended on it. 

When you peer down at him, his face is entirely pressed up against your body: nose digging into your skin and mouth latching on for a taste. He gives your ass a little spank, then grabbing a handful to squeeze. The tinge of pain turns into pleasure as the feeling of static runs throughout your lower half. 

Haechan tries to free himself from his pants, growing painfully hard that it began to feel strained. One hand unzips and tugs down hastily at his bottoms, his cock springing up and slapping against his stomach. He lifts his shirt up as far as it can go, not once breaking his attention on making you feel good.

You yelp when his two fingers enter your hole abruptly, gathering enough of your slick to cover his own dick. With your wetness, he strokes his tip with his thumb and the vibrations from his moans sends shivers down your spine. But Haechan is more than skilled at multitasking, jerking himself off while he eats you out.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Your head turns enough to see movement in your peripheral vision. You can infer two things: Haechan is half naked and fucking his hand so fast that it shakes the bed a bit.

“Of course I am. You’re fucking hot, baby.” He only pulls away briefly to speak, his soft tongue flicking rapidly harder against you now. Haechan knows you’re close, without you needing to say much. Your toes curl at the intensity, your moans become louder, and you’re gripping onto his hair as tightly as possible.

The peak of your mountain is at the tip of your lips, your legs are about to give out at any moment, but Haechan is showing no mercy to slow down. “Just like that, shit.” Your hips mindlessly grind with his fast-paced rhythm.

Haechan can feel his own release coming just as quick, his own grip growing tighter around his shaft as his hips have no caution to stop. “Give it to me, (Y/N).” His low grunts solely push you to your edge, as you announce your orgasm. 

Your shaking legs uncontrollably twitch around his head as the euphoric feeling fills your blood stream. Like a knot coming undone, it’s the most rewarding feeling you’ve ever felt. You try to catch your breath as Haechan unlatches from your swollen clit, and his moans replace yours. 

“(Y/N),” He barely manages to speak and you look down in between your legs to see him biting his bottom lip hard and eyes closed. “--I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk... when I get back..” and with that, he cums all over his lower stomach, short strings of white landing across his body.

You roll off of him, grabbing tissues from your nightstand to clean him up. “Are you still going to make it?” A hoarse laugh rumbles your chest as Haechan remembers the lecture he has to attend.

“I’ll just show up late.” Wiping the last bit off of him, he gets up to hurriedly zip himself up. “Why are you suddenly so needy?” He jokes, partially. A smug grin appears reminding you of his haughty personality. 

You scoff at his remark, “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Yeah, but why do that when I clearly give you the best orgasms of your life.” He shrugs, his tone being quite matter of fact. He chuckles mischievously at your displeased expression, running out your room before you can chase him out.

“Okay, I’m leaving!” He yells from the hall, hurrying down the stairs to catch the last half of his lecture. 

“Bye, thank you... I guess..” You pull your panties up, your voice trailing off when you step out of your room to the top of the stairs to watch him leave.

He stops to peer up at your obvious fucked out appearance, admiring you all in your glory. “Any time, baby. What are housemates for?” Haechan winks flirtatiously before he shuts the front door.

The rhetorical question repeats in your head, what are housemates for? 

As everyone floods back home later in the day, you and Haechan act as if nothing happened. That’s the thing about you two, Haechan never really feels the need to brag to the others, only if provoked. 

You two can live in this house with the other three not expecting a single thing, not knowing that there is courage behind Haechan’s bold statements. Not even the way Haechan stares at you sometimes can give anything away. This man is too slick, too quick on his feet to ever be caught.

“You make it to all your classes today, Haechan?” Johnny asks as the three of you devour the dinner Doyoung made, Jaemin once again not being home. 

“Yes, dad.” Haechan answers sarcastically and stuffs his mouth full of dinner rolls. “I had a midterm that I totally aced.” He smiles proudly, but your ears catch onto the first half of his sentence and immediate guilt settles.

“You had a midterm?” The tone of your question raises a few eyebrows at the table, the rest of the boys wondering why you sounded so worried.

Nevertheless, Haechan doesn’t lose his cool. He simply bids you his sugary sweet smile and says, “not for that one.” 

“No flirty eyes at the table.” Doyoung scowls as Haechan’s corner lip twitches into another infamous smirk. He somewhat enjoys the thrill of almost getting caught, you make it all too easy for the others to find out.

You gulp your food harshly and shy away from Haechan’s dark gaze, not knowing the right words to recover your slip up. Jaehyun acknowledges the confusion in the room, laughing nervously at your sudden bashfulness, “why did (Y/N) sound so worried?” 

Your food gets stuck in your throat, waiting to hear what Haechan has to say to your nosy housemates. “I had to come home to grab my notebook and missed the beginning of class. She’s just looking out for me, it’s cute.” 

And your eyes make the most dramatic roll, “I should’ve just let you to suffer the consequences.” 

“But you’re a good girl.” Haechan barely lets you finish, his sharp-witted tongue almost cutting you off.

“(Y/N) is the best girl.” Johnny ruffles your hair and picks up your chin, being oblivious to the sexual tension between you and Haechan. “Now, did my best girl go to all her classes today?” 

You push his large hand off of you, grumbling lowly, “yes, Johnny.” Mindful to not say dad as it would steer him with too much satisfaction, “unlike you delinquents, I actually go to class and stay for the whole thing.”

“I do too.” Doyoung bickers.

In response, you pinch his cheek harshly. “I know and I’m always proud of you, my bunny.” 

Haechan clears his throat obnoxiously, “I’m going to play games, hop on when you all are done.” He takes a few more dinner rolls as he starts heading up the stairs with his plate of food.

“Can’t, I have someone coming over in a few.” Jaehyun stuffs his cheeks full of deliciousness.

“Me too.” Johnny chimes and you’re repulsed that more than half of the house is going to be having sex at the same time. 

“In that case, that is my cue to leave and put on noise canceling headphones.” Doyoung gathers his plate to rush out of the scene. 

Jaehyun and Johnny finish their dinners at an impressive speed, “don’t be too loud, Haechan!” Johnny loudly proclaims and though you can’t see Haechan’s face, you can imagine his devilish smile through the cadence of his voice.

“Oh, trust me. I won’t be the loud one tonight.” Your phone lights up from incoming texts. As your eyes register the messages, you almost choke on your food at the implications. 

housemate haechan: come to my room when you’re done

housemate haechan: and don’t expect to walk tomorrow:) 

And you’re finishing your dinner as fast as everyone else is, shamefully excited to make your way upstairs. 

What are housemates for?

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[pricemarshfield]

just the girl

An MC/Poppy fic for A Very Poppy Weekend. Thank you to @penda-bear​ for organizing!

Day 1 prompt: soft moments. You can also read on AO3 here.

If on her first day here, someone had told her that Poppy Min-Sinclair would be sitting on her bed, holding her dog, she'd have said a few things. One, that they were wrong, two, that she didn't even have a dog, and three, that Poppy would be welcome in her room when hell froze over, and not a second earlier.

But hey, it's not the first thing she's been wrong about.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a small dog person," Poppy says, managing to make it sound dismissive even while she's petting Cutiepie's stomach with the warmest eyes Bea's ever seen her have. "I figured you'd like...hm, a massive mutt that drooled all over the floor."

"Oh, like Champ back at the shelter?" Bea says, lying against her headboard and watching her--well, her whatever Poppy is to her play with her pug. "Don't think I forgot about him."

Poppy doesn't respond, but lies back against Bea, a sure sign that what she's said has pleased her and she doesn't want to admit it.

"You know, if I didn't live in a dorm, I'd adopt him," Bea says, impulsive and stupid and entirely meaning it. "Unless you wanted to."

"He wouldn't exactly fit in at Zeta," Poppy says with a little scoff, and the smile that had been playing at the corners of her mouth has entirely dropped. "Though I wouldn't expect you to pick up on that."

"Okay, babe," Bea says, and Poppy's cheeks go as pink as her cardigan. "What's up? You're not normally this snippy when it's just us anymore."

"'Snippy', who talks like that," Poppy mutters, and Bea waits, pulling Poppy a little closer to her. Cutiepie's content and relaxed in Poppy's arms in a way he rarely ever is, normally a ball of energy. His curly little tail is wagging like crazy, though. "Well, I'm not going to be in Zeta forever."

Bea freezes. "Uh--"

"I don't mean I've taken to heart any of your mindless crap about being 'nicer'," Poppy says, and Bea snorts, amused despite herself. "What? Not upset?" Her voice is accusatory, suspicious, like she's expecting Bea to get pissed and drop her. Bea does want her to stop bullying half the students here, yeah, but something in her gets upset when Poppy thinks she'll drop her so fast.

"Nah," Bea says. "Not upset."

After a long, long moment, Poppy says, "Well. Anyway. Until I've a place of my own, it's hardly like my parents--" Bea bites back her instinctive sneer, both at the mention of Piers and the way he treats Poppy and at the fact that Bea's well aware that when she says parents there's one she's leaving out. "--would let me have a dog in the house at all, let alone Champ."

Bea gets the appearance game. She does. Hell, it's not like her drive to adopt Cutiepie was purely altruistic. But that? That's just depressing. That's just sad. (Again, if someone had told her on her first day that she'd pity Poppy--well, honestly, she might have believed that one; Bea's heart has always been entirely too open, according to everyone.)

"So," Bea says. "If I were to, hypothetically--"

Poppy drops Cutiepie right onto the cover, where he runs off to eat her shoes or pee on her science homework. She rolls over so she's on top of Bea, not like she's about to pounce, but like she just wants to...look at her. Her face is entirely open, missing the smug grin or snarl that she normally has. Bea's heart skips a little. (Embarrassing. But Poppy's right there with her, so can't be too bad.) "I already don't like where this is going."

"If I were to adopt Champ," Bea says, and Poppy's eyes narrow at her, suspicious. "Then you'd know he'd be there if you wanted him. Later."

"What, and you'd just give him up?" Poppy says.

Bea shakes her head vigorously, probably hitting Poppy with her curls a little. "What? No! Oh my God, no, that's not what I was going for, I mean, then we could, uh. You know. Take care of him together. Not that kind of take care of him, I'm just--"

"Quiet, Farmsville," Poppy says, and Bea shuts up. She can read Poppy's face pretty easily: not upset, but a little calculating, considering. Not cruel. Not angry. Soft, somehow. "Together."

"That's definitely what I just said," Bea says, trying to avoid Poppy's gaze without making it obvious that's what she's doing. Poppy snaps right in her face. "Okay, that's rude."

"Please, you love it when I'm mean to you," Poppy says, which has Bea squirming under her. "Jesus, you're easy. What do you mean by together? Like a custody arrangement?"

Bea scoffs. "Okay, if you're not going to take me seriously--"

Poppy pushes down on her shoulders, pressing her further into the bed, before she can leave. "You know I'm just messing with you."

"I do," Bea says, and realizes as she says it that she means it.

"You know," Poppy says. "Hypothetically."

"Of course."

"I might not hate that," Poppy says, which is practically a confession for her. Bea can't help but lean up to kiss her, and Poppy kisses her back. It lacks the usual heat and intensity, but Bea's toes curl all the same.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 2

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3.5 k

Author’s Note: This is turning out pretty good, I think. It’s turning into a kind of slow-burn ish thing, and as much as I can’t stand slow-burn sometimes, I’m liking it so far. If I’m being honest I feel like (hopefully) this is the thing that can help me get over my smut writing block. I haven’t been able to get myself to write smut for a while, and I’m hoping this can help me fix it.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Also, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I usually put in that little line spacer when there’s a pov change. You know, this one:

____

So yeah. And the three asterisks (except the ones at the beginning):

* * * Usually means a timeskip. If it’s unlabelled it’s only a short skip, anything over 24 hours I’ll label.

Enjoy~

*

*

*

Shouta woke you up, his rough hands rubbing your back and deep voice softly calling your name. When you let your eyes flutter open you realize you’re still on top of him, only your head is further cradled into his neck and your leg had found its way around his waist. The position had your face warming as you lifted your head and met his dark eyes.

“Good morning, little one.” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up himself. You pulled away and he released you so you could sit up. Off of him. You couldn’t quite hold his gaze, so you looked down at the bedsheets.

“Good morning, Shouta.” He sits up beside you, a hand grasping your chin and making you look at him.

“Am I too forward? Or are you afraid of me, little one?” You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to really consider your own comfort.

“Can I speak freely?” He nods, and you take a breath.

“You are being just a little forward, but I think it’s only really enhanced because you’re known for being cold and unwelcoming. And also the fact that we only formally met last night.” His hand drops, and he waits for the second half of your answer. You take a moment to choose your wording, make sure you’re accurately communicating your feelings without offending him.

“While I do feel awkward and, frankly, small around you I don’t necessarily fear you. So far you’ve shown that you aren’t cruel, and though you are capable of some...violent things, I have no reason yet to believe you would be violent toward me.” A small smile tugs at his lips, a foreign thing to see.

“I assure you, I am not a violent lover. Nor will I ever be.” He reaches over and grabs your hand, lifting it to his face and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. It’s a simple, sweet gesture that has your face and chest heating. Then he gets up and you follow him out to the living room where three large suitcases are waiting. Your suitcases, you realize, Mother and Father must have packed all your clothing and had them sent here. Shouta picks up two of them and you take the last one, returning to the bedroom.

“The closet has plenty of room, so go ahead and sort everything out. I’ll be in my office. Once you’re done just wait for me, we’ll be going out later.” You nod, and he’s disappearing into his office. For the first time, you take a good look at the room. Your room now, you remind yourself. 

It’s large, enough to fit three more king beds with plenty of spare room. The king-sized mattress sits in a black frame that was built to look like it was hovering inches off the ground, fitted with light gray sheets and a large black comforter. The entire room is illuminated by lights embedded in the ceiling, the floor a dark hardwood that matches the doors to the bathroom and walk-in closet. A table sat on either side of the bed, both painted black to match the bed frame.

The walk-in closet is big as well, though it’s much brighter than the main bedroom. The floor is smooth white tile, a white center island with a glass top looking into the top drawers that held numerous watches and ties. Most of Shouta’s clothing seems to be folded, the suits and more high-end clothing the only pieces hung up. You filled the empty spaces with your own clothing, keeping everything organized like you had back at home. With everything tucked away, you decided it was time to change out of the robe, tugging on undergarments you missed those, a pair of loose sweatpants and a racerback tank top. Then you brought the now empty suitcases back to the living room and dug through the kitchen for some breakfast.

____

Shouta emerged from his office to you humming to yourself as you worked over the stove of bacon and pancakes. He didn’t even know he had bacon, let alone the ingredients for pancakes. It was quite cute, seeing you bounce lightly along with the tune you’re humming, spatula in hand. It’s a domestic sight, completely foreign to him. He leaned on the doorframe, choosing to admire you a while longer.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come get some food?” He blinked, slightly shocked, you hadn’t even turned around to see if he was there. You must have heard the door open, though he made sure none of the doors in his home creaked. It’s an irritating noise. He made his way over to you, hooking his chin over your shoulder and placing his large hands on your waist.

He knows he’s moving a little fast with the intimacy. He’d asked you earlier, though you said you didn’t mind, you were absolutely right that it’s weird being so close so soon. In all honesty, as long as you’re alright with it he wants to continue being touchy like this. He’s never truly had any interest in naming a partner, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want company. He’s been lonely for a long time, longing for someone to hold, and while he’s absolutely sure any woman would love to court him willingly, he wants someone special.

He can’t stand the women that throw themselves at any man with power and money, most of them only in it for their own gain. If he were to announce before the ball that he was looking to name a wife, he’d probably have had a line of fawning women on their best behavior to butter him up, flirting and smiling those too-big smiles in an attempt to get a rock on their finger and power to wield at their leisure. That’s why he’d decided to watch from afar, and you struck him as different the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

The more time he spent in your company, the more he’s commending himself for picking you. You’re one of the probable few that held a semi-neutral opinion of him, not fearful nor starstruck. You’re intelligent, well-articulated, and while you have your limits you tend to go with the flow, let the wind carry you this way and that. And you’re honest with him, he has no doubt you’ll tell him if there’s a boundary he crosses.

____

You’re grateful he can’t quite tell the state you’re in right now. Shouta’s hands on your waist flustered you, more than you care to admit. Sure, he’s advancing rather quickly, but you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. You’d been forbidden from dating, made to save yourself for the strategic marriage your father had planned. For the longest time you’d wanted to be held, touched and loved by someone. And here Shouta is, fulfilling all your teenage daydreams. He has no reason to be so close behind closed doors, where no one can see you, so he must feel some sort of real attraction toward you right? Otherwise he’d be more closed off, only opting to speak on his own terms and not caring at all about you or your comfort.

You shake yourself from your thoughts and the two of you sit at the dining table, quietly eating your breakfast. It is a little awkward, but you expected as much. Shouta, like you, probably isn’t used to eating with another person. You both finish breakfast soon, and once the dishes are washed Shouta startles you with his next words.

“We’ll be leaving in an hour or two for a lunch meeting with a few other clans.” You have to take a pause and think about what he’d just said.

“We? You want me to join you?” A part of you wants him to confirm it, another hopes he doesn’t.

“Yes, I want you there with me.” Cue your confusion.

“It’s almost unheard of, having a woman in a clan meeting.” As much as you hate the patriarchy and its traditions, they are still traditions that, once challenged, could upset many people.

“Let’s say I’m breaking the status-quo. If I’m going to have a wife, she’ll be wielding my power alongside me, not just existing as a means to further the bloodline.” It becomes apparent to you that Shouta, despite his position, is very much not traditional. You turn to him and lean against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So why have you chosen me? I’m the daughter of a very low-ranked oyabun, have almost no experience compared to you and I am most definitely not someone other oyabun would approve to be your wife, let alone leading the entirety of the Yakuza.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, crossing his own arms.

“I don’t care what other oyabun may think of me or my choices, they don’t dictate what I do. As for why I’ve chosen you, it’s quite simple. I’ve known you for less than a day and it’s already obvious to me that you can take most things in stride, without allowing it to affect you emotionally. You’re good at compartmentalizing your own thoughts, can keep a level head under pressure, and that’s exactly what I need.” Your own eyebrows raise, not expecting a read like that.

“And last night as I watched you, it was clear to me that you’re skilled at masking your emotions, especially nervousness or fear. Think about what any other woman would have done, had I walked up to them and asked their name. Before I could get another word out they’d probably drop to their knees and begin begging for their lives. Most would probably faint on the spot, pounce on me, or any other number of unsavory responses after announcing a sudden engagement to me. But you? You did nothing, simply answering my question and taking my hand with no theatrics.” 

You nod slowly, mildly understanding his point. While it’s true you had almost no reaction, you’re almost sure there’d be at least a dozen other women in that hall that would have reacted the way you had. 

“Still, there must have been many others that acted like I did. For me to be so completely unique is…” You trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Unlikely? Yes. Impossible? No. I trust my own judgement, little one, and you should have a little more faith in yourself. Now, let’s go get ready. I’ve already got a dress for you to wear. It’s only semi-formal, we’ll be going to a restaurant for this meeting.” You give a small sigh as you follow him into the bedroom. 

All you can do now is go along with it, whether you trust his judgement or not. Suddenly being put in a position of so much power is stressing you out a little bit, but Shouta isn’t wrong about your compartmentalization. The stress could be dealt with later, right now you have a meeting to attend.

* * *

On second thought, maybe the stress should have been dealt with earlier. Standing outside the restaurant, wrapped around Shouta’s arm is making your heart pound in your chest. You’re unconsciously squeezing his bicep, and even as he looks down at you, there's nothing on your face to indicate your nerves. You’re completely deadpanned, eyes focused and mind working overtime. Shouta’s calloused hand falls over yours, a mildly comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, little one. The most you’ll have to do is sit still and look pretty. I’m aware of your inexperience, I don’t expect you to be put on the spot. If you are and feel uncomfortable then all you need to do is tap my leg. You’ll be fine.” You nod. The pep-talk is appreciated, but it isn’t the meeting itself you’re worried about. What kind of backlash will Shouta be getting once you enter? What will be said about his reputation afterward? All you can do is wait and see.

You stride into the venue, and are led to a private room by a hostess. You can hear the casual conversation from the open door, but once you’re inside the immediate silence is unsettling. You don’t need to look directly at the half dozen men to know all their eyes are fixed on you as you both sit at the head of the table. Shouta quickly and smoothly brings the attention off of you.

“It’s good to see you, gentlemen. Let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” The tension in the room is still palpable, the clear discomfort from the men hadn’t vanished, but their main focus now is the subject of the meeting. You sit and listen carefully as they talk about several things, from natural disaster preparations to minor territory disputes. Some of the smaller syndicates under these oyabun had spread operations outside their borders, but that was quickly settled as most was due to small misunderstandings and unclear borders. Soon the meeting was nearly coming to a close, and suddenly Shouta left to use the restroom. 

And now, you’re a lioness in a clan of hyenas.

You keep quiet, listening to their conversation and following along with the political debates to further familiarize yourself with the inner workings of the higher circle. Suddenly the table goes quiet, and you lift your eyes from the table to meet the gaze of six men that value tradition. Unsure what to do, you drop your gaze again, but don’t drop your chin, choosing to look down your nose at the wood grain. Shouta had told you to hold yourself as he does, and you make sure to try, but you know when to keep to yourself.

“Tell me, girl, what are you doing here?” You blink, not expecting to be confronted so blatantly. You look up at the man who had asked the question. He looks to be in his late forties, jet black hair graying at the temples and striking brown eyes aged and tired. He’s not thin, a little heavier-set, but it’s clear there was a point that he was fit and muscular. He’s already irked you. You nod your head, a small bow, before calmly answering.

“My name is (y/n). I would appreciate it if you could please use it, Oyabun. I am here because Shouta wants me to be here.” The man narrows his eyes at you, a small scoff comes from one of the others but you don’t avert your eyes to him.

“Well why does he want you here, girl?” The blatant rejection of your request made your blood boil, but you kept a pleasant face.

“I don’t know. If you wish to know you may need to ask him yourself, Oyabun. And please, call me (y/n).” You’re certain he won’t use your name, and you addressing it again will probably anger him, but you can’t care too much when you know you’re within your right to ask that anyone use your name. Especially when you yourself are using a title for the man.

“I’ll address you how I see fit. Just because you’re the Black Dragon’s fiance does not mean I will acknowledge you as anyone of importance.” Ah, that’s right. You had forgotten Shouta’s nickname. Black Dragon is the name people used for him, whether they were afraid of the man or in awe of him. You take an imperceptible, steadying breath. Misogyny is one of the few things that challenge your composure.

“I do not ask you to acknowledge me as a person who holds power. In fact, I am aware of my previous rank and understand that it was maybe unwise to have me here. All I ask is that you please use my name.” The near growl that escapes the man does nothing to your self-control, doesn’t even strike any kind of emotion other than irritation. At this point, the other five men seem to be siding with you, their gazes fixed on the rather aggressive-reacting oyabun with something akin to confusion. 

“Do not talk back to me, girl! I should remind you of your place here.” The other men sit in shock as he rises from his seat and begins to circle the table. He must have had tunnel vision, because Shouta’s voice cuts through the room so abruptly he freezes, his eyes snapping over to the entrance where Shouta stands, glaring daggers at him.

“Touch her, and I will personally bury you six feet under.” The man is frozen in shock, almost in disbelief. He tries, albeit weakly, to get Shouta on his side.

“O-oyabun! I… This girl, she--” 

“I believe she asked you to use her name. Politely, might I add.” He’d been listening? How long had he stood there?

“In fact, you should address her as Onna-oyabun.” Your breath caught at that, the same as the rest of the room. That title was a myth, a rarity in its own right. There were so few instances where that title was applied to a woman under such specific circumstances that it’s a mere legend today. The most recent was an old woman who had inherited her deceased husband’s clan, which was extremely small, and even that was long ago. 

Shouta’s hand landed on your shoulder, his rough thumb drawing small circles into your skin. He was silent, waiting for the older man, or anyone in the room, to oppose him. You could feel his glare in the faces of the other clans’ oyabun, the intensity of it making even you uneasy. It felt like an eternity before Shouta spoke again, venom laced in every syllable.

“I’ve chosen to let you keep all of your teeth, in favor of keeping her from seeing what violence I’m capable of. Next time, I won’t be so gracious. It’s time to go, little one.” You bow your head quickly before taking Shouta’s extended hand and strolling out of the room.

In the car, it’s silent. You have every intention of apologizing for causing a scene, though you aren’t sure if you should speak here or at home. Shouta doesn’t leave you any options.

“What is it? There’s something bothering you.” How perceptive.

“I’m sorry, Shouta.” He turns his head, his expression questioning your intelligence.

“For what? For asking to be addressed in a way that isn’t demeaning? He had no reason to ask why you were there, let alone attempt to attack you like that. I always hated that man, you’ve just given me a reason to threaten him.” You did a double-take.

“You heard everything? How long were you standing at the door?” 

“Ah. I put a bug in the metal piece on the front of your dress. I knew they might be unsavory toward you, and with me out of the room they were more likely to speak their minds.” You nearly gawked at him. No wonder he’d chosen your dress for you. 

“You never went to use the restroom.” He shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. It is I who should be apologizing, little one. The entire ordeal was intentional, as much as I hoped it wouldn’t actually take such a turn. Though I will say I was serious about that title. I fully intend to marry you, and I intend to have you by my side for every meeting from here on out.” You suck in a sharp breath at that bit of information. Marriage seemed like such an abstract concept until now, having Shouta say it somehow made it all the more solid. And to join him for every meeting? 

“As long as there are no more surprise incidents then I think I can come with you.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he squeezed your hand.

“Deal. Though I may need to do that a few more times just to keep some men in line.” You let yourself giggle, he must hate a few of the others as well.

“In that case I’ll help you. I was afraid he’d actually get me for a second there.” 

“Really? You didn’t even react. What if I were a split second too late?” You smirked, a mischievous little tug at your lips.

“Well if you were too late he’d have at least one stab wound and be bleeding out on the floor.” He shoots you a bewildered look before you tug up the hem of your dress, exposing a large dagger strapped to your thigh. He can’t contain his laughter, throwing his head back and wiping away at a few stray tears once he can breathe again. You can’t help but laugh with him, and notice just how handsome he looks when he’s happy, or in this case amused.

“Wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise.” He chuckles a bit more, getting it all out of his system before looking over at you. 

“Regardless, I won’t be letting them get that close. I’m sure you’re capable of defending yourself, and as much as I’d love to see you stab an annoying misogynist, the risk to your safety still remains. Not to mention he disregarded my warning last night. You’re untouchable, little one, he knows this and still thought he could touch even a single hair on your head.” 

You let a small smile settle on your lips, lacing your fingers with Shouta’s as a comfortable silence falls between you.

******************************

Tags:

@inumorph

[eirikaanemo]

Venti’s a Celebrity (GN)

1) You’re a fellow celebrity and do a lot of collabs with him

You both produce music professionally and work for the same album company. Your styles work well together so they have you do a lot of duets. Or sometimes you’ll play the music and he’ll sing, or vice versa.

Eventually the two of you collab with each other more than you make individual content. Individually content is still made, but your joint performances do incredibly well. So it’s only natural that the two of you would form a group together

In all reality, it’s not very different from what you were doing before. You just get to come up with a group name and generally spend more time together.

The two of you get closer and bond (you have all the inside jokes). It’s honestly a dream come true for you. You’ve always thought he was cute, but the more you get to know him, the more you grow to like him

Starting a romantic relationship with him is just a natural extension of your already existing relationship. When they catch you making out, your staff were more delighted than surprised to see that you’d finally acted on your mutual pining

You gaze in the mirror, admiring the work of your makeup artist as you wait for a stagehand to let you know when it’s time. Tonight’s performance is live, on-stage and you’re a little nervous. You lightly trace your meticulously done hair with your finger, too afraid of messing it up to do anything more. There’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” you call. The door squeaks as someone enters.

A few moments later, two arms wrap around your torso and you hear Venti take a deep breath. You rest your hands on his and manage the courage to give him a little smile. “Hi Venti,” you whisper. “Hello!” He replies. “I see my precious songbird is nervous for our first performance. Would a kiss cheer you up?” You smile a little wider. “It would,” you admit. “But I think Lisa might just kill me if I mess up my makeup.”

2) You were his very first fan

He started out small on YouTube. You were always the same to like the video and leave a comment. And you would always share it with twenty of your closest friends (or really just anyone you could- internet strangers included)

He appreciated your support so much, always responding to your comments and sometimes giving you shoutouts in his videos. Everyone knows that the role of #1 fan is already taken

It took years for him to get big, and you were there for him the whole time. So when he finally did it, he sends you tickets to his first performance with an invitation to meet with him

You’re ecstatic to know that he’s finally getting the attention he deserves, and are thrilled to receive the ticket and invitation. Of course you accept! And if it took begging for a few days off and splurging on an airplane ticket there… well, he didn’t need to know that

When the two of you meet, you really hit it off and become friends. It helps that there’s so much history between the two of you, but you also find that you have some things in common

After a while of staying in contact as friends, he invites you to another event… as his date. While it was a bit of a shock at first, you were happy to attend and had a lovely time with him

You squeeze his hand lightly as the two of you walk back out to the limousine. He’s chatting about how great it was to see so many of his friends and introduce you to them. You are honestly only half listening, as you hum and agree in all the right places. Tonight has been a lot and you’re still processing what happened. He notices that you seem sort of distant once you’re both seated in the limousine and holds one of your hands with both of his.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” He asks. “Oh, yes,” you say kind of distantly as you snap back to focusing on him. “It was wonderful. My brain is just struggling to comprehend that I just met fifty of your closest celebrity friends.” He laughs. “Well, do you think you’d be up to doing it again? There’s another event in a couple weeks that I’d like to bring you too.” You smile warmly. “Sounds like a date!”

3) You randomly meet them in a regular situation and don’t recognize them

You’re sitting at a bar with your friends, sipping your drink and jamming out to the music playing. It’s by your favorite artist, The Bard, and is one of your favorite songs

Said music artist happens to be at that bar that night and notices you jamming out. So, just for fun, he decides to go sit by you

He asks if you really love the music so much, fully expecting you to recognize him on sight. You don’t recognize him and proceed to go on a rant about how awesome he is and how much you love his music.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so, and the conversation eventually drifts to other topics. You have a great conversation and he really enjoyed spending time with you, so he gives you his number

You think it’s kind of odd, but he asks you to not give other people his number. Of course you agree, but it’s kind of a weird thing to ask. Why would you just randomly give out the number of some guy you met at a bar?

When he leaves your friends all pounce on you and ask about him. You’re really confused about why they’re interested until one of them mentions him actually being your favorite music artist. It takes a while for them to convince you that they’re not joking around

“Just call him!” Amber proposed. “Who better to convince you who he is than him!” You frown, Venti was just a nice, cute guy you met. There’s no way he could be a famous singer and songwriter. But you know they won’t leave you alone until you ask. “Alright,” you sigh, ignoring their cheers and high fives.

Pulling out your phone, you open a new text chain, type a new message and send it. ‘Are you The Bard? Sorry about the weird questions, my friends are making me ask.’ You wait a couple minutes with your friends on the edge of their seats. Ping! Your phone let you know you received a message. ‘Yep!’ The text reads. ‘I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out ;)’. Your friends swear, to this day, that your jaw dropped to the ground and your eyes were the size of dinner plates.

4) You somehow show up in many pictures of them, despite being a random bystander

He likes taking a bunch of pictures, including selfies, and putting them up on social media. It’s his way of connecting with his fans, and it works pretty well. A ton of people follow him and like his pictures

That day you happen to be at his performance and every. single. picture. somehow has you in it. You’re even in the backstage ones because you got a backstages tour. He doesn’t even notice until one of his fans points it out in a comment

His fans love you so much already and insist that he get a proper picture with you. They come up with wild theories and have the craziest ideas of why this is happening, when in reality it really is just coincidence (or is it fate?)

One moment you’re just hanging out in the food court waiting for your friends to get back with your food, the other you’re being tugged along by the star of the show himself? You’re really surprised when he asks for a picture with you. Why in the world would he want a picture of you?

But you agree and the picture is taken. The fans love it so much. So he and the crew invite you to a joint interview stream later. You’re pretty sure the sky is falling, pigs are flying, and that hell has frozen over, but you agree

The fans ship you already and can tell from your matching blushes in the picture that you think each other are cute. So they play wingman and get you together with their full support

“This question is from istananon in chat,” the person reading the questions says. “Venti, if you were to take them on a date, where would you go?” Venti blushes harder and laughs nervously. “Wow, you guys are really asking a lot of questions about us dating,” he notes. “Um, I guess I would take them to Angel’s Share and we could just talk and get to know each other more.”

“There’s a follow up question,” they remark, turning to look at you. “If Venti were to ask you on a date, would you accept?” You hide your face in your hands and whatever you say is muffled. “What was that?” Ven asks nervously. “We didn’t quite catch that.” You pull your face out for a second to respond and then hide

[khaleesiofalicante]

This is War - A Crack Fic

All the chaotic, horny energy today had to be channelled somewhere, right? 

You can read the fic here on ao3 too :)

Central park was a vision to behold. There were no mundanes within sight. The warlocks had made sure to glamour the entire area just for today.

“We are not shadowhunters,” Ragnor had said. “We don’t half ass things.”

He of course had left immediately after securing the parameter saying he didn’t want to be involved in another one of Magnus’ childish squabbles.

“Welcome everyone,” Simon said, standing on a podium hadn’t been there before. Where was that from?

“Why is he wearing a robe?” Helen whispered to her wife. Aline just shrugged.

“For far too long we have been trying to settle this debate,” Simon said in a deep voice that was not that deep. “But today, we must settle on an answer.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “Can we get to the good part?”

“Jace, you promised you’ll let me have my moment!” Simon hissed at him and then cleared his throat. “Today we will decide the most pressing crisis of our time. Who broke the coffee maker in the Lightwood-Bane household?”

“Wasn’t me,” Magnus shrugged. “If I did, then I would have fixed it immediately. It was obviously Alec.”

“Liar!” Alec gasped. “I love coffee. I love that coffee maker. Why would I break it?”

“Well, to love is to destr-” Jace spoke up.

“Honey, not now,” Clary shushed him.

“Listen, the kids can’t obviously reach the coffee maker yet,” Magnus pointed out. “And I’m not the one who takes out my frustration on inanimate objects. I mean we all know what happened to the kettle in the institute.”

There was a soft murmur from the shadowhunters of the New York institute.

“I WAS HAVING A BAD DAY!” Alec argued.

“Just admit you broke the coffee maker, Alec,” Magnus said.

“I didn’t do it!” Alec replied. “You’ve always been jealous of the coffee maker.”

Magnus snorted. “Jealous? Me? Pfft. You’re the one who is obsessed enough with the darn thing to name it.”

“Treat lightly, Magnus,” Alec said. “Charles is already dead. Why would you-”

“ENOUGH!” Simon said into the microphone. When did he get that? “Like I said, this childish argument has gone for too long. Today we will settle it like the civilized adults that we are.”

Simon bent down and picked up a giant gun.

“PAINTBALL FIGHT, Y’ALL!” he yelled.

Everybody started cheering – with way too much enthusiasm for a Monday morning.

“Alright. Magnus, Alec – whoever loses the game will agree that they broke the coffee maker, and we will put this whole thing behind us and move on. Do you agree to these terms?”

Magnus and Alec looked at each other and then nodded at Simon.

“Alright!” Simon grinned. “Pick your teams!”

Little Rafe ran towards Magnus.

Alec gasped. “Betrayed by my own blood.”

Max ran towards Alec. “We are going to win. I always win.”

Alec grinned at that. “I pick Jace.”

Jace grinned back and ran up to his parabatai. “Ohhhh y’all are so going down.”

Magnus laughed. “We’ll see about that, blondie. I pick Emma.”

“Oh damn,” someone said from the crowd.

“Emma, this is a paintball fight,” Alec pointed out. “You can’t use Cortana.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for emotional support,” she said with a wicked gleam.

“Alright,” Alec said. “I pick Julian.”

“Isabelle,” Magnus called.

“KIT!” Alec yelled.

“TIBERIUS!” Magnus thundered.

“Count yourself lucky that it’s daytime,” Alec said. “Otherwise, I would have called Lily and she would have destroyed all of you!”

“Already making excuses for your imminent failure?” Magnus chuckled. “I choose Helen and Aline!”

“You can’t pick them both!” Alec argued.

“I can and I just did,” Magnus winked.

“Yeah, Helen and I won’t fighting in opposing sides,” Aline shrugged. “Sorry, Alec.”

“I got the lesbians!” Magnus laughed. “You are going down, Alexander.”

“You wish,” Alec said and whistled. Diego showed up behind him. “I got the Inquisitor!”

“Clarissa,” Magnus said. “The Angel’s chosen one.”

“Babe,” Jace said. “You can’t!”

“Everything is fair in love and war,” Clary shrugged, pointing a gun that was bigger than her. “And this is war, biatch!”

“Kieran!” Alec called and the unseelie king materialised from some corner and ruffled Max’s hair.

“Mark!” Magnus called.

“Cris-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Cristina lifted her finger warningly. She was perched on top of a tree. “I’m not going to be a part of this madness. I got a medicine kit right here. So, if anyone needs me, just holler, okay?”

“And I will excuse myself as the referee of course,” Simon pointed out. “Alright. Standard paintball rules apply. No serious injuries. If you get shot, then you’re off the game. Last team standing wins. And no runes or downworld powers. We are gonna fight mundane style.”

“YAS!” Kit cheered, already cuddling his paintball gun.

“Alright then,” Simon waved a flag. Where did he get THAT from? Did he have a bag of equipment just lying around?

“LET THE BATTLE OF THE COFEE MAKER BEGIN!” Simon yelled.

And then there was chaos.

The warlocks – mostly Ragnor – had changed the area into a paintball area. There were places to hide behind and attack from. It was really elaborate. Maybe Ragnor had more fun designing this space than he had let on.

“Alright,” Alec said to his team. “Let’s keep this simple. Take down anyone you see.”

“Anyone? What about our significant others?” Jace asked. “Do we shoot them down too?”

“Of course not!” Alec chastised. “We are not animals! Is that clear?”

“Yes, Consul!” everyone yelled.

“I DON’T CARE IF THEY ARE YOUR BOO OR YOUR BAE, THEY ARE GOING DOWN,” Magnus said to his team. “FIND YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS FIRST. THEY WILL NOT EXPECT YOU TO STRIKE! USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE! THERE ARE NO SIGNIFICANT OTHERS. ONLY SIGNIFICANT ENEMIES. IS THAT CLEAR?”

“YES CAPTAIN!” they all cheered.

They all broke out and ran to find their targets.

It wasn’t even five minutes since the game had begun and Kit ran straight into Ty.

“Hey,” Kit waved.

Ty pounced and pinned Kit to the ground. He pointed his gun at his boyfriend.

“Alec said we can’t hurt our significant others,” Kit put up his arms.

“Our captain said no such thing,” Ty replied. “You’re not-…Why are you grinning? I got you pinned down.”

“It’s my favorite place to be,” Kit smiled. “I open my eyes and there you are. You’re beautiful.”

“Stop flirting with me when I’m trying to fight you,” Ty blushed and then held out his hand. “Fine. I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me.”

Kit winked at him and ran away.

Mark and Kieran found each other next.  They both held their guns at each other – neither of them shooting.

“This is childish,” Kieran pointed out. “I’m already bored.”

“Wanna go sit on that tree and hang out with Cristina?” Mark winked.

Kieran grinned and the two of them ran away too.

Helen and Aline looked at them and shrugged.

“We could just live stream the whole thing,” Helen pointed out. “Lily would like to see this.”

“I don’t know what that means but if that’s what you want to do and that’s what we shall do,” Aline smiled and and kissed her wife.

“Clary,” Jace said in relief when he saw her. “Thank god! I thought someone-”

There was sudden pain in his chest and he looked down to notice the big green splotch on this t-shirt.

“You...You shot me,” Jace said, sounding hurt.

“Jace, I’ve already stabbed you in the past and you once set me on fire,” Clary rolled her eyes and ran away to find her next target. “Get with it!”

“JULIAN ATTICUS BLACKTHORN,” Emma yelled and ran towards him. “YOU’RE GOING DOWN.”

“Not today,” he winked at her.

Emma blushed furiously just before attacking him. It wasn’t easy. Emma was skilled at close range combat, but Julian knew all her weak spots. So, they were even.

They wrestled for a while before Julian pinned her to the ground. He was breathing hard, his pupils dialed.

“I’m sorry, but this is strictly business,” he shrugged with a mischievous grin.

“But we are still on for tonight, right?” Emma asked. “I finally got a reservation at that Italian place you like.”

Julian’s eyes softened a litte. “You did?”

“Yes,” Emma smiled and hooked her legs on his ankles and flipped them in the blink of an eye. She shot him on the stomach and kissed him on his lips. “See ya at seven!”

Unlike everyone else Isabelle was not going to be fooled or manipulated by her significant other. Thank the Angel Simon wasn’t a part of this. She really liked the feel of the paintball gun in her hands. It was huge, powerful, messy and colorful too. Her kind of weapon.

She ran around the park and took down the others mercilessly. There were only a few of them remaining now – everyone else had already been shot.

But not Isabelle.

She didn’t care about the coffee maker of course. The argument was a ridiculous one.

She just wanted to win.

In the distance, she saw Emma take down Kit and Diego shoot Ty. She was off to destroy the Inquisitor when she had a familiar cry.

“Baby,” she ran to him. “My little blueberry muffin. Are you okay?”

“I fell,” Max sobbed. “Somebody pushed me.”

“Tell me who did this and I will-”

“ISABELLE DON’T!” she heard Magnus yell.

But it was too late.

There was a giant blue splotch on her white blouse.

“Max?” she asked in betrayal.

The boy just giggled and ran away.

In this distance, she now saw Diego covered in red, with a very satisfied Rafael hanging upside down from a tree.

And then the rest of them went feral.

“Surrender, Alexander,” Magnus said an hour later, holding up his gun, which was covered in glitter. “Everyone on your team is down.”

“Well, I don’t see anyone from your team standing either,” Alec pointed out.

“I still am,” Magnus said.

“So am I,” Alec replied.

“Give it up, Alexander!”

“Never,” Alec said adamantly. “This is for the coffee maker. I loved it so much!”

“Then you shouldn’t have broken it,” Magnus argued.

“I didn’t!” Alec said in frustration. “I love it so much because…because that’s the first thing you bought for me.”

“Oh,” Magnus said, the grip on his gun softening lightly.

“I know you have bought me so many expensive gifts but the coffee maker…it’s always been my favorite. I remember walking into your apartment one day, we weren’t even properly back together then, and you just bought it for me.”

“Well, you drink a lot of coffee,” Magnus grumbled.

“Yeah and you noticed. And you got me something so I wouldn’t feel weird in your apartment. You bought it so make me so comfortable. That’s when I realized I really, really like you.”

Magnus blushed a little. “Well, then now it sounds stupid to think you broke the thing.”

“That’s because I didn’t, Magnus!”

“Well, I didn’t either!” Magnus put up his hands. “In fact, the day it broke, I wasn’t even home. I was in the spiral labyrinth all day.”

“I know! I wasn’t home either! I had to go to the Mexico institute for an emergency meeting, so I called Jace to babysit the ki-”

They both stared at each other.

“JACE LIGHTWOOD HERONDALE!” Magnus’ voice boomed across the park. “DID YOU BREAK ALEC’S COFFEE MAKER?”

Jace was sweating. “Listen, I was gonna say something and then y’all started fighting and it was very awkward, and I was looking for the right time and then Simon came up with this idea and I thought 'hey we haven’t done a fun group activity in a long time and so why not?', ya know?”

Magnus and Alec looked at each other.

“Everybody,” Alec called. “Change of plans. Attack my parabatai.”

“AND SHOW NO MERCY!” Magnus yelled.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Star Wars: Gentler, Harder

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

Wordcount: 2.6k

A/N: @ticklesofcolor event fill for @ticklishnonsense! Prompts were a combination of “Poe really loves getting tickled and has to ask for it” and “Finn gets taught how to tickle someone” - I am looking at those CR prompts, believe me, but I thought it would be fun to try something new too :)

---

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!”

Poe’s still not over the way Finn beams every time he sees him - he startles a little, probably on just enough symoxin to dull the rest of his senses along with the nerves, and breaks into a smile so brilliant against his dark skin that it’s hard not to squint. “Poe!”

He sounds like he’s still excited about having actual names to call. Poe tries not to think about it too hard.

Rey, curled up on the other side of the medical bed in, does her best impression of not looking expectantly at him. Poe grins and holds out a nutrition bar that she snatches and squirrels away somewhere in her dangling wraps faster than he can follow. “Good day?”

“Yes,” she says, perfunctorily making room for him to sit. She and Finn are close, he knows, and they’re never far from one another if they can help it - they do have enough spare beds that their two newest recruits shouldn’t be sharing one, he’s checked - but she’s not much for cuddling, and over the past few days they’ve worked out an unspoken agreement that Poe gets to crawl in between the two of them whenever he comes by. “Finn’s doctor says he’s almost ready for the next round of surgery, but he still shouldn’t be moving around.”

Poe squirms into a sitting position against the uncomfortable starchiness of the singular medbay pillow and looks Finn over as the two of them attempt to quote jargon about vertebrae and internal splints at him. He does look well, bandages aside, but it looks like clapping his shoulder still isn’t a good idea- instead, he settles for smacking a kiss against the coarse corkscrew curls that are just starting to grow out of Finn’s military cut. It’s a good look on him.

Finn interrupts himself to laugh and punch Poe gently in the shoulder with his good arm. “What about you, pilot? Do anything crazy today?”

A metric ton of paperwork, mostly. “Wait, wait - Rey, what about you?”

She frowns at him, same as every time he’s asked. “I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with me that would keep me from doing mechanic work-”

Finn shifts behind him. Poe twists back to him and catches his wince just as he gets close enough to whisper loudly, “She’s only had two headaches, I’ve been watching her all day.”

“Finn! I’ve been watching you,” Rey insists, wide-eyed. “If they let me out, I can start getting supplies for us, and - Poe Dameron, stop looking at me like that-”

“Like what?” he asks, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“The-” She gestures tightly in the general direction of his face, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, I just-” He fishes another nutrition bar out of his jacket and breaks it into three, holding out a portion to either side. “We have enough supplies for you and Finn, Rey. It took me four days to recover from whatever Kylo Ren did to my head - not saying you can’t do it in less, but I know how it felt and you need rest. The General herself said so, and she knows more about the Force than anyone here.”

Rey stuffs the food into her cheek and sinks back into herself, rubbing a little self-consciously at the dark circles under her eyes, and it’s hard to stop himself from reaching out to her, unwelcome as it might be given that they’ve just met and he’s technically the reason she’s not waist-deep in machinery right now. He’d tell her about the little manifest of speeder parts and a run-down X-wing he’s been saving for her to look at when she’s well, but he’s a little afraid that it’ll make her even more restless. “I nearly escaped an enemy base by myself and no one will even let me check the hyperdrive strain on the Falcon, but people keep coming in here and asking Finn for - for intel, whatever that means.”

“First Order secrets,” Finn intones, and lets out a semi-hysterical laugh. Poe’s heart lurches. He’d do anything to keep these two protected, safe, but for the cause-

He can do his best to cheer them up, at least, even if he’s feeling a little wiped himself. “Well,” he says, flicking Rey’s knee playfully, “we all know which one of you went around calling himself a ‘big deal’ in the Resistance, so-”

“Poe Dameron,” Rey hisses, rocking forward and launching a flurry of insistent pokes at his belly, “I’ll - I’ll take the Force and - Poe?”

Poe is - he’s not that ticklish, or at least that’s what he tells himself, but prodding at his soft spots is mean and he’s already half-sunk in laughter as he instinctively scrambles away from her.

Finn makes a startled sound just to his right, and he realizes abruptly that someone’s going to get hurt if he doesn’t stop flailing around. “Rey - Rey, wahahait-”

She pulls her hand back, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

“Wait, are you ticklish?” Finn asks.

Every nerve in Poe’s body sings at actually hearing the word. Clearly, it’s been a while.

Rey looks even more confused. “Ticklish?”

“The laughing,” Finn clarifies. “It usually happens when you poke someone in a ticklish spot.”

“Oh.” Rey looks adorably contrite. “Sorry, Poe, I didn’t know you were - ticklish? There?”

Goosebumps prickle at the back of his neck - they just keep saying it - but there’s a sudden, disappointing clarity at the realization that they’re not actually going to keep tickling him if he doesn’t say anything. “Oh, uh, I don’t mind, really I-”

I like it, he finishes in his head, but the words catch, warm and embarrassed, in the back of his throat and he just coughs instead. He scoots gingerly back towards Rey and tries again. “Um. I’m used to it, it’s not like Jess hasn’t used it against me when she thinks I’m being a brat.”

“Well,” Finn says, and that’s not a tone Poe’s ever heard from him before.

He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

He whips his head around just in time to see Rey pounce on him. She pins his legs neatly with hers, one wiry forearm bracing across his chest and the other pressed lightly over his mouth, and Poe abruptly feels trapped.

He should probably be more worried about that.

“You’re loud,” she tells him matter-of-factly, her sharp chin inches from his ear, “and if you don’t stay in once place you’re going to hurt Finn. Tap out if you want me to let you up.”

His fingers are twitching. He flattens them against the mattress.

She makes a satisfied sound and turns - he can’t see Finn past her, but it’s unlikely that he’s gone anywhere in the last thirty seconds, at least. “So now we just - poke him?”

“Kind of,” Finn says. “But Rey, you’ve gotta have a hand free-”

Rey’s hand flexes briefly over his mouth. “You do it, then.”

Finn sounds uncertain. “I can barely see his face from over here; it’ll be hard to tell if I’m doing it right.”

Brown eyes abruptly fill his field of vision as Rey looks back at him. Poe holds his breath, anticipating, as she presses her thumb to the corner of the silly, helpless smile working its way over his face and grins - a brief, childish thing he’s only seen her wear in the hangars.

“I’ll tell you, then.”

Poe squeaks.

Suddenly there are five little points of warmth on his right side, tickling mercilessly over the tender line just under his ribcage. The zinging sensation shoots over his chest, up under his collarbones, and-

He dissolves into gasping laughter, arching up into Rey’s arm before he can even think about laying still. “Oh,” he gets out, “oho - ohnohoho-”

Part of him expected that Finn wouldn’t really know how tickling worked, being in the First Order and all. That part of him is currently experiencing instant, severe regret as clever fingers work their way into the grooves between his lower ribs, forming into pincers and kneading just firmly enough to make him twist and squeal. “Ahaha - aaa! - no - eheeeh-”

He kicks free, for a moment, heels dragging frantically against the bed. Rey makes a frustrated noise and kicks back. “Finn, gentle,” she orders, “it’s too much for him.”

Poe’s somewhat offended by this unflattering evaluation of his abilities - at least, until Finn makes an affirming noise and the kneading lightens to a soft, barely-there fluttering of nails against his skin.

Then, he’s just desperate.

It’s. It’s not even enough to make him laugh, is the thing - he’s just wheezing out breathless, hiccupy giggles into Rey’s palm as Finn wanders his way up his ribcage, pausing occasionally to rub gentle circles when he stumbles across somewhere especially sensitive. It’s hell.

“Rey,” he tries, muffled, making the herculean attempt to unfist his hands and nudge her in the shoulder. “Rey.”

She looks down at him, questioning, and he gives her his most pleading look. He knows she can read his desperation clear as day, he knows-

She blinks. “Keep going,” she tells Finn, “I don’t think he’s sorry yet.”

Finn, bless his non-evil heart and inability to hear Poe whine in fruitless protest, laughs and pets the soft, trembling skin under Poe’s arm with one careful fingertip. “Really? C’mon, Poe, what’s it gonna take?”

This, apparently, because Poe is ready to say anything in the entire karking galaxy to get them to actually tickle him - the only thing worse, he thinks, would be if they stopped.

He whines again and squeezes his arms against his sides as tightly as he can, hoping beyond hope that it’ll make Finn take retaliatory measures. Rey just tsks and moves her hand away from his mouth, and he sighs in relief in the brief, blessed instant before she clamps down on his forearm and pulls his arm up.

Solves the audibility problem, at least. “Finn,” he pleads, wheezing between the snickers being forced out of shivering lungs, and wow, that’s not how his voice usually sounds. “Fihihihiiiiinn - Finn! Dohon’t - just - please, I can’t-”

Finn sounds amused. “Rey, you think he wants us to stop? Sounds pretty sorry to me.”

“No,” Poe says hastily, and promptly shuts his eyes before he can see their reaction to that. “Just - do it right, come on-”

There’s sudden, piercing doubt in Rey’s voice as she loosens her grip on him. “What do you mean - Finn, are we doing it wrong?”

He has to say something, but what-

And then.

He can’t see them, but - but he can feel, just for a moment-

The thing brushing up against the edges of his mind is instantly, quintessentially Rey - grit and stubbornness and a rusty, childish mischievousness all swirling, with the bitter concern of being wrong briefly at the forefront - it skims over his thoughts like sand over desert dunes, not graceful but gentle, nothing like Kylo Ren’s digging and bruising intrusion -

It. It kind of tickles.

He laughs, sudden and startled, and with Rey braced over him it’s impossible not to hear the pleased sound she makes in response. “Oh, I see.”

The Force, Poe realizes, is a kriffing snitch.

He cracks an eye open and fails entirely not to blush at the way Rey’s beaming triumphantly down at him. “Poe,” she commands. “Tell Finn what you want him to do.”

He sputters. “What? I thought that was your job. And you can’t use the Force, that’s not fair-”

She beams even wider. “There’s more than one way to make you sorry, Poe - come on, tell Finn which one you like better, tell him!”

“Wait, you used the Force?” Finn’s confusion only makes him blush harder. “Poe? You can tell us if you want us to stop, you know-”

“I don’t,” he blurts out, and immediately has to close his eyes again as every ounce of blood in his body rushes to his face. “I - I want - Rey, I can’t-”

“Say it,” she orders, and he wonders if that’s the Force echoing in his ears.

Well, if he’s going to be pressured into saying it, might as well be by the galaxy’s newest Jedi. “Can - can you t-tick-” Come on, Dameron, lo que no me mata- “-oh, kriff it, just tickle me harder, please, I can’t take it-”

He trails off, breathing hard, and Rey pats him twice on the cheek like a proud tía before slapping her hand back over his mouth. “I think he’s going to be a lot louder now. Finn?”

Ten fingers wriggle their way into his right armpit, and Poe yelps.

It’s not any more bearable than the fluttering and tracing, except that it is, and Poe can’t help but relax into the helpless laughter as Finn prods and pinches his way all the way down to his hip before working his way back up under his arm. He lingers at Poe’s ribs, kneading between two particular sensitive ribs and giggling as Poe tries to shove his mean, mean hands away with arms that have all the strength of a used bacta patch. “Eheheeeeh - ha, aaaaa - hahaha, nononoplease-”

“He says no,” Rey conveys over his head.

“No?” Finn says, teasing. He lightens his touch just enough to make Poe shriek in panicked frustration before going right back to kneading. “Aw, Poe, I thought you said this is what you wanted!”

Poe’s pretty sure there’s a solid four inches between the bed and his spine, with how desperately he’s arching his back and wriggling to escape the awful teasing, and as Rey wrestles him back down Finn’s fingers slip onto his belly.

He screams.

There’s a moment of complete, terrible stillness as Rey looks down at him with utter delight. “Finn!” she chirps. “Do that again!”

“Hm? Right here?”

Poe feels something warm and wriggly slide between him and Rey, up under his shirt where it’s come untucked with all the struggling, and promptly makes the executive decision to tap out before he ends up earning himself a ticket to the medbay with more psychic damage.

“Wait, he’s-”

“Rey, he wants-”

Finn and Rey both pause, Finn’s hand unmoving on his belly. Rey inches her hand off his mouth. “Poe?”

“Tapping out,” he wheezes. Rey gets halfway off him before jerking back to lean on his shoulders, fixing him with a mock-stern look that nearly has him breaking down into nervous giggles all over again. “I will get to fly the Falcon again, right?”

Poe tips his head back onto the bed, gulping down air. “I get the feeling I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to, but yes. General’s even got it listed under your name in the manifest, now.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh. I - I have a ship?”

“You’ve got a ship,” he confirms, and loses his breath all over again as she darts in for a fierce, joyful hug. It takes a bit of doing, but he manages to shove his way to enough of a sitting position to lean the both of them up against Finn, wrapping their arms together in a joyful tangle.

It feels right - like fighters flying in formation, like the spiraling balance of the Force the few times he’s been witness to it.

His cheeks are red and sore from laughter, but he can’t help smiling.

[hb-writes]

For Old and Young Alike - Pt. 2

{Part 1}

Summary: 1913 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara has saved up for the perfect Christmas gift for her family and it’s almost time to show it to them. She’s just got to fetch the gift and wake everyone for the Shelby family Christmas breakfast first. 

Inspired by this anon request: What about a little blurb set around Christmas time when Clara is younger maybe just before the boys go off to war, she has been saving her pocket money for ages to buy all her siblings and polly a little gift and she’s so excited to give them to her family x

Featuring: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Finn Shelby, Polly Gray, John Shelby, Martha Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Charlie Strong, Clara Shelby

-----

When Clara rose from the bed she shared with Finn, it was still much too early, the sun not yet up and the house very much silent. She checked on her siblings and aunt, listening outside of Ada's and Tommy's and Polly's rooms for telltale signs of their slumber, deep even breaths heard through each of the closed doors.

She couldn't stop herself from admiring the tree as she came down the steps, the few gifts there under the lowest branches visible even in the rather dim light meaning Father Christmas had already been to number six. Clara didn't linger there on the steps long, far more focused on the gift she'd purchased for the others than any of the boxes sitting beneath the tree.

The gift had been wrapped and labeled and hidden with Freddie's help, stowed high and away from prying curious eyes. It hadn't crossed Clara or Freddie's minds that she'd need someone similarly tall in order to get the package down when the time came.

Clara was smart enough to know she'd not be able to get it on her own, not with the help of a stool and not by standing on the tips of her toes. She'd need the tallest person available and that person, her older brother Thomas, was peacefully asleep in his bed.

Tommy usually woke early on Christmas mornings. At one time it was him and Arthur doing the early rousing, then John and Ada when he'd become too old to show excitement over such things, and for the last few years, it had been the twins waking him, the babies synchronizing their pounces to cause the most surprise, taking precious care to knock the most wind out from their unsuspecting older siblings' chests.

He wasn't used to hushed whispers stirring him, warm breath surrounding his ear as a light pressure weighed on his right shoulder, and it confused him in his half-asleep state. Tommy snaked his arm around his sister, recognizing the presence of Clara even if he hadn't heard her little voice coaxing him along. Tommy shifted closer to the wall, pulling her under the covers, eyes still closed.

"It's alright, my girl," he said, vaguely stroking his hand through her hair. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Clara didn't correct him settling under the warmth of the blanket for a cuddle even though she had her own agenda, waiting there long enough for Tommy's breath to even out, his chest heaving in a steady rhythm beneath her.

"Tommy?" she whispered once he'd begun to snore a bit.

Met with silence, Clara pushed his eyelid up with a single finger, the gesture gentle but intrusive all the same. "Wake up, Tommy."

"Clara," Tommy groaned, swatting her finger away and using the arm wrapped around her to hold Clara and her wandering arms against him. "It's not time," he mumbled. "Father Christmas hasn't—"

"But he already came, Tommy," Clara said, struggling against him. "And I—"

Tommy inhaled deeply, trying his best to hold his sister's belligerent little body still. Tommy knew Father Christmas had already come to the Shelby home. He'd come no more than a few hours earlier, just at the moment when Tommy had gotten home from the Christmas Eve dinner at Greta's, dropping the gifts under the tree after checking that the twins and Ada were asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep, in their beds. He was grateful that Polly had done the wrapping, stowing the handful of packages in the shop after they'd put the twins to sleep.

Really, Tommy shouldn't have been surprised his sister was awake this early being as they'd finished reading the final chapter of A Christmas Carol around seven, just before he'd been due to Greta's. He couldn't imagine Polly had let them stay up much beyond that.

"And if you don't go back to sleep, he'll come back and gather up anything he's left."

"No, he won't," Clara answered, "and he can't come back as I haven't been naughty."

"You're being naughty waking me up so early," Tommy mumbled, "and naughty little kids get coal for Christmas."

"I'm not naughty. I just need your help."

Tommy shushed her again, repositioning them both and pulling the blankets up as he held her to his chest. "Go back to sleep."

She ignored his words, pushing her arms up against his chest, trying to get out of his hold. "And not helping those in need is very naughty, Tommy, maybe even a sin."

Tommy snorted now, almost properly awake at his sister's words, a phrase he suspected to be transplanted from their aunt's mouth straight into Clara's. "I wouldn't want to be a sinner on Christmas, now would I?"

"I would expect not, Thomas. You'll get coal."

Tommy released Clara's arms, reaching for the pocket watch discarded on the nightstand. "And you need this help from me… right now?"

It was about half-past four in the morning and Tommy dropped the piece of metal to the bedside table as he wrapped his arm around her once again. If Tommy had his way, they'd both rest a bit longer and he'd help her with whatever it was she needed closer to six, or even better, at seven. He'd not sleep any later than that, even without the twins' traditional Christmas morning wake up call.

"Please, Tommy?"

Tommy shushed her again, wrapping the arm around her once more. "How about we get a bit more sleep and I—"

"But, it's Christmas. Please, Taaaa…mmy?" she said, drawing out the first syllable, pouting and wide-eyed though Tommy's head still tilted back against the pillow and he saw nothing but the inside of his eyelids.

That long opening syllable, the Taaaa he'd not heard with any regularity for a few years, his name usually so rushed as it came from her lips, the pieces of it mushed together as she uttered it only as a hasty introduction or conclusion to whatever she wished to tell him, the other content more significant than whatever sound she whirled at him to gain his attention.

The reappearance, whether she'd done it purposefully or not, pulled at something in him and Tommy released his sister, opening his eyes as he looked to her.

"You're a little devil, Clara Shelby."

"I am not!"

"You are and you don't even know it, which makes it all the worse."

-----

Tommy looked up to where Clara pointed, to the brown paper package on the very top of the cabinet, hidden just behind the decorative edge. It'd been there for weeks now but he hadn't noticed it.

"You pulled me out of bed for this?" he asked as he pulled it down. "What is it?"

"A surprise," Clara answered, pulling the box from his hands as it came within her reach and holding it to her chest.

"Alright," Tommy answered, rubbing his eyes. "We'll put it under the tree then, eh? Open it in a few hours? Give us all the gift of a bit more rest?"

Clara nodded as she took a step away from him, stopping suddenly at a lone creak on the stairs.

"Father Christmas come yet?"

Ada yawned, wrapped up in a robe, her hand clasped around Finn's as the pair tentatively traversed the stairs.

"Finn wants to know," Ada offered to Tommy's raised eyebrow. "I'd have liked that gift of a few more hours you've just mentioned."

"I imagine you would," Tommy said. "What time did you get in last night, Ada?"

"Not very late," she answered. She'd been back before Tommy, just barely, though. He'd seen light in her bedroom window from out on the lane. "Not that it's your business what time I get in."

"And where were you 'not very late' last night?"

"Molly's," Ada answered. "Though, again, not really your business."

Tommy sighed. He'd hoped to simply get his sister back to bed for a few more hours, or at the very least, he hoped she'd allow him a bit of rest on the couch. He'd planned to ask after Ada's whereabouts later, without quite so big and impressionable of an audience. He knew she hadn't spent the whole night with Molly Evans.

"So did he come, then, Tommy?" Finn asked.

"He did," Clara said to Finn, "and he left us presents and drank all the whiskey."

"Big surprise there," Ada said.

Tommy rubbed his face once again, willing his body to accept that sleep was something long behind him, willing his body to not punish him too much for drinking Father Christmas's glass of whiskey and then some.

"We best wake John and Arthur if we're doing this now."

"And Aunt Polly?" Clara asked, already on the second step.

Tommy lifted her into his arms. "Let Finn go wake Aunt Polly. You help me with our brothers. Ada can put the kettle on," Tommy said. "I'd tell you to start with breakfast, but we don't want to burn the place down, eh?"

Ada scoffed. "It was one bloody time, Tommy. It was just a bit of smoke."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the twins, both of them starting to giggle.

"Well, go on, then. I don't need an audience to make tea, especially not if it's the three of you."

"Why's she so cross on Christmas morning?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps because someone woke her up before five."

"But you're not cross and I woke you up," Clara answered.

"Yeah, well, I imagine you were a bit gentler than Finn," Tommy said. "And we know how our Ada needs her beauty rest, makes her lovely inside and out."

"Shut it, Thomas," Ada answered. "And make sure to wrap yourselves up in something. It's chilly out."

Tommy pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping them both. "Good enough for your standards, Mother Ada?"

She stepped forward, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her sister, tucking the fabric under her chin. "If either of you catches your death of cold out there—"

"We won't, Mother Ada," Clara said, mimicking Tommy's overdone inflection as she spoke her sister's name. "We're just going down the lane."

Ada rolled her eyes, shouting at them. "Fine! Go off and catch your colds, then!"

"See, my girl, that's why you're coming with me. You won't wake up half the lane shouting like our sister."

"Shut up, Thomas!" Ada said as she stepped through to the kitchen.

"Ada, you're not supposed—"

"Oh, come off it, Clara. Our brother deserves to be told to shut his mouth every now and then. Maybe if you said it, he'd listen."

"Now, Ada, don't go poisoning my Clara against—"

"Me? Me? You think I'm poisoning your Clara against you?"

"I won't give a second thought to poisoning the lot of you if you don't stop with all your shouting," Polly said as she came down the stairs, guiding Finn in front of her.

"I wasn't shouting," Finn said.

"I wasn't shouting either," Clara echoed.

"Yes, I know, my loves," Polly said, shifting her eyes from the twins to her other niece and nephew as she sharpened her tone. "You would never cause such trouble on Christmas morning."

Polly gave each of the twins a kiss on the cheek, offering them both a "Merry Christmas" and a smile before giving Tommy a peck on the cheek as well.

"Merry Christmas, Polly," Tommy said, beating her to the sentiment.

"Keep your sister under that blanket. Wouldn't want her to catch her death of—"

Clara and Finn both started giggling once again at Tommy's raised eyebrow, the three of them stopping suddenly as Polly cleared her throat.

"See." Ada threw her hands in the air. "Just as I've said. Tommy's always poisoning the twins against—"

"Calm down, Ada. Your brother's only doing it to rile you up. And you're only making it worse for yourself by letting him."

Ada huffed. "Unbelievable, the lot of you," she said, storming out of the room.

"Can we do breakfast first?" Finn asked, tugging on Polly's robe. "Then the presents?"

Polly opened her mouth to answer, cut off by the cursing and sound of crashing pots and pans one room over. This time Polly raised an eyebrow, smirking as the kids and Tommy chuckled.

"You alright in there, love?" Polly asked

"Fine, Polly," Ada answered. "And shut up, Tommy!"

"I didn't say anything, Ada."

"But you were thinking something or making a face or…just shut up and go get the boys."

-----

Clara snuggled against Tommy's chest, the two of them working together to hold the blanket up against the chilly air out on the lane.

Tommy directed them to John's house first, unsurprised when the door fell open with just a gentle push. They never locked up, Martha and John possessing something, perhaps an ill-placed bit of courage or comfort or stupidity that allowed them to feel protected within their four thin walls, only a barely competent door latch between them and the rest of Small Heath.

Clara released a small squeak as Tommy turned around to shut the door behind them, struggling to get out of his arms when she spotted Martha and the baby in a chair by the fire.

"Oh," Tommy said as he turned to them, allowing Clara out of his arms, her socked feet closing the distance to Martha and the baby in a few seconds. "Morning, Martha."

"I'd ask if you want to come in, but as you already have, maybe you'd still allow me to offer you a seat before you sit?"

Martha eyed Tommy for a moment before looking down at Clara, her little finger already clasped by the cooing baby.

"We didn't want to wake you," Tommy said. "Was planning to have Clara tiptoe in to steal John and the kids and let you sleep."

As little sleep as John got, they all knew Martha got even less, responding to most of the late-night and early morning calls of their babies before John even stirred.

"So you two decided to break in quietly, then?" Martha asked. "Sounds like a good way to get yourselves shot. You know he keeps a gun under his pillow."

"Where's Sarah?" Clara asked.

"Asleep with your brother. We can go wake the lazy lump if Uncle Tommy will take Joseph for a moment."

Tommy accepted the bundle of blankets into his arms, more adept and comfortable with an infant than most people would expect. He settled into the vacated chair as Martha took Clara's hand and led her up the stairs.

Martha stepped into the room first and pulled two things from the bed, the gun beneath John's pillow, which she stowed in the drawer of the nightstand, and then the sleeping toddler pulled from the spot between John and the wall. John stretched out the moment Sarah was pulled from the bed, subconsciously unraveling to occupy the space now vacated.

Martha gestured for Clara to have at it, the woman's smile further encouraging the excitement that had already budded in Clara on the way up the stairs.

Clara's words, her alarm bell greeting, shocked John's system, his hand going under the pillow in search of the missing gun before she'd even properly gotten the second syllable of 'merry' out from between her lips. Clara ran from across the room and landed with a grunt followed by bright giggles as she collided with his chest.

"Wake up, John. It's Christmas," she said between laughs.

John's heart was beating so fast and hard it took him a moment to recuperate, just lying there with his wife and sister giggling, his daughter waking to the noise, her laughter joining the chorus.

"Christmas, is it?" he said, glancing through the window to the dark street. "It's still Christmas Eve, I think."

"No, John, it's Christmas," Clara answered.

"Must be pretty fucking early, then."

Martha scolded him and John sat up, Clara sliding off his chest to sit in his lap.

"Tommy and I broke in to wake you up."

"Broke in?" John asked, glancing up to his wife for confirmation.

"Your brother," Martha said. "He never fucking knocks. Just lets himself in like he owns the place."

John raised an eyebrow at the language he'd just been corrected for and Martha rolled her eyes. "I suppose your sister has already learned it. Sarah, too. We'll try better with Joseph."

John smirked. "Clara learned it around Sarah's age. Imagine this sweet little thing sat right there at the breakfast table demanding more fucking eggs. Gave Aunt Pol quite a shock to the heart the first time she heard her say it, eh Clara?"

"I don't remember," Clara answered.

"I suppose you wouldn't," John said, depositing his sister on the covers as he pushed himself out of bed and began pulling on the rest of his clothes. "Has Pol started breakfast yet?"

-----

When their fourth set of knocks went unanswered, Tommy shifted Clara to his opposite hip and fished the key to number 57 Watery Lane out of his pocket.

The first floor was dark and silent, and Tommy kicked an empty whiskey bottle out of the way as he carried Clara towards the stairs. Clara wiggled out of the blanket and Tommy's arms and he set her down on the top step, Arthur's bedroom door angled open to reveal a heap of blankets on top of the bed.

Clara intended the same wake-up for Arthur as she'd given to John and prepared to launch herself on top of him, but Tommy caught her under the arms, pulling her back up to his hip as he spotted a delicately arched foot slip from under the mound of covers.

"Hey!" Clara attempted a whisper, but it still came out as a shout. "Put me—"

"Shush, love. It's still early," Arthur mumbled, assuming the noise came from the bed beside him. "Give me another hour of sleep and I'll give you—"

Tommy cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

It startled him and the bed quickly became a mess of limbs and blankets as Arthur and the woman he'd brought home began to thrash about.

"Who's your friend, Arthur?" Tommy asked, nodding towards the woman hiding behind his shoulder.

Arthur stammered, reaching down to grab his shirt and pants off the floor and pulling them on beneath the covers.

"Ah, is that Eva?" Tommy asked. "Merry Christmas, Eva."

"Merry Christmas, Tommy," the young woman answered tentatively, pulling the covers closer around her as Arthur got off the bed.

Clara leaned forward in Tommy's arms, extending her hand. "Merry Christmas. I'm Clara Shelby."

Eva bit back a giggle, the embarrassment of the moment slipping away as the little girl looked at her expectantly, not a bit phased by finding a girl in her brother's bed. Eva pulled a hand out from beneath the covers and shook Clara's hand. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

"Are you coming to Christmas?" Clara asked, settling back against Tommy's chest.

"Oh, um…"

"Go on. Get yourself dressed," Arthur said, gathering up her things and tossing them onto the bed. "You're welcome at breakfast. The baby has spoken."

"No, no, that's alright. I've got my own family to get home to."

Arthur turned to his siblings. "Has Aunt Pol started breakfast yet?"

Tommy nodded. "C'mon, Eva. You haven't lived 'til you've had a Shelby family Christmas breakfast. If you thought Arthur could drink, you should see him eat."

"There's biscuits," Clara added. "Biscuits and candies for breakfast!"

"And everything else you could imagine," Arthur added.

"No, it's really alright. My sister's expecting me," Eva said.

"Tillie's expecting you at five in the morning?" Tommy asked.

Tommy knew the sisters. He couldn't imagine Tillie was home yet either.

"Well, I might sleep a bit more and then go over," she answered.

"Suit yourself," Arthur answered, kissing the girl before turning. "Lock up for me when you leave, alright, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Arthur."

Arthur pulled Clara from Tommy's arms, kissing her cheek as they stepped out of his room. "Merry Christmas, love. A bit early this year, eh?"

"It's Finn's fault," Clara said. "He woke Ada."

"Yeah, and you woke me thirty minutes before that," Tommy added, the three of them making their way out onto the lane.

"But we were gonna wait."

Tommy nodded. "I suppose you and Finn'll be taking naps this afternoon, being up so early."

"No naps, Tommy! It's Christmas." Clara turned in Arthur's arms twisting both ways to meet each of the boys' eyes. "Tell him, Arthur!"

Arthur laughed. "I may be taking a nap, myself, love. You two wake John yet?"

Tommy gestured ahead of them to where Martha, John, and the babies were making their way down the street towards number six.

"Let's wake Charlie, too, eh?" Arthur asked, stepping over and banging hard on Charlie's door until the upstairs window opened.

"Christ, Arthur. It's five in the fucking morning. People are sleeping."

"Merry Christmas, Charlie," Arthur said.

"It's time for Christmas, Uncle Charlie!" Clara said, smiling up at him.

Charlie sighed, rolling his eyes. "Did your aunt start breakfast, then?"

The boys and Clara nodded and Charlie shut the window without another word, appearing moments later beside them on the sidewalk. There was nothing quite like the Shelby family Christmas Breakfast.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

{Part 3}

-----

🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ @ohhersheybars​​ @pollyrepents @unicorndetective22

[snowstark]

— you’re my world. [pt.2]—

read part 1 here!

for @truckloadoffrogs / LINK TO PT. 2 ON AO3

For @buckybarnesbingo | fill: U5 - Homeless

“Shut up,” Bucky gasped, reaching out for—for—something. “Shut up, oh my god, I hate you so much.”

“Your dick disagrees.”

Bucky lunged.

He grabbed the front of Sam’s shirt and yanked, hard enough to elicit a surprised noise from Sam, and pressed his lips to Sam’s again. Sam froze, and then let him, relaxing and pushing into the kiss as his hand snaked around to grip the back of his head, right where the short little hairs prickled at his hands. Bucky closed his eyes, basking in the feeling, in whose arms were around him and who he tasted.

When he pulled back, both of their chests were heaving, and Bucky licked his lips, trying to catch any lingering taste of Sam that he could.

“What was that for?” Sam’s voice was light and teasing, but his gaze was serious, judging by how they skimmed Bucky from head to toe, and Bucky didn’t miss the way it shamelessly lingered on the bulge in his pants.

Bucky grinned back, and it was a big, dopey grin, the one he’d used to charm all the ladies back in the 40s, the one he reserved for people he wanted to charm. “Couldn’t let you do everything,” he replied, letting the palm of his hand slip back down to the tent in his pants, and his breath hitched when Sam caught it easily, preventing him from doing exactly that. “Had to make sure you knew I wanted it too.”

Sam laughed, and guided his hand down until it rested on his cock straining inside his pants. “Oh, Buck. I know you want it. You can’t hide it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Alright, smartass. Less talking, more fucking, c’mon,” he complained, and leaned forward, half-expecting Sam to oblige. His mouth went dry when the other man just blinked at him before raising an eyebrow. The simple gesture was enough to make Bucky poke his tongue out to nervously wet his lips, and he nibbled before—shit, no, it wasn’t his to bite.

He paused, giving Sam an opportunity to act, to pounce, and when he didn’t, well, he took matters into his own hands. Fuck it. “My turn,” he growled, grinning, and shoved Sam against the wall, just like Sam had done to him the very first time. He might want Sam to fuck him into a new dimension, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a little rougher too. Bucky Barnes and rough sex was like milk and cookies. “Lemme—lemme show you how good—”

Sam caught him off guard mid-sentence by yanking him back around and pressing his back against the wall with a hand on his chest. He licked a wet stripe across his neck, making Bucky’s knees go weak. “No,” he breathed. “No, let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

Fuck. Bucky felt his throat convulse from his swallow, and any resolve to act like a little shit collapsed. He nodded. “Okay. Fuck, ‘kay.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed.

“Okay.” Bucky stared, then watched as Sam moved.

“You stay where I put you,” Sam murmured lowly, reaching out and gripping Bucky’s hips. Even through all the layers of clothes he had on, he could feel the warmth radiating from Sam’s hands, scorching his skin, burning imprints into them, leaving marks that he would carry—and wanted to carry—for days, and he wanted— he wanted— he wanted to be good. For Sam.

“Bucky? Did you hear me?” Sam pinched his side, making him let out a yelp before clapping a hand furiously to his mouth, flushing bright red. Sam laughed, like the dick he was. “Do I have your attention now?”

“Yes,” Bucky gritted out. “Yeah, you do. I stay where I put you—I mean, where I put me—I mean—fuck.” He flushed a darker shade of a red and shut his mouth before he could embarrass himself further.

Sam grinned, looking like he was having the time of his life. “Oh, baby,” he crooned, reaching forward to caress Bucky’s face teasingly. “Don’t worry, you look pretty when you blush.”

Baby. There was that name again. Bucky shivered and he instinctively dropped his gaze, peering up at Sam shyly through his eyelashes.

“You’re gonna listen to me and be good, aren’t you?” Sam continued, still letting his fingers trace spirals into Bucky’s cheek, eyes lingering on his face like he was made of gold, a perfect sculpture, a piece of art just for him. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” Bucky gasped out. The front of his boxers were beginning to feel damp from pre-come, and he knew it was only a matter of a few minutes before he would combust, and that was going to be humiliating and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to look Sam in the eyes again if that happened and—

Maybe it was the sheer panic on his face, or the impatience (probably the first one, Sam was perceptive like that), but Sam chose to take mercy on him and his hands pressed him against the wall of the boat with the grip on his hips before yanking his belt out expertly, making him gasp.

“Oh, holy shit, that is so fucking hot,” Bucky spluttered as Sam tossed it behind him. It clanged against a pipe, making them both pause for a moment, like they were afraid that someone was going to walk in on them. Eventually, Bucky grinned and nudged Sam. “We’re fixing pipes, remember?”

Sam laughed and yanked down his jeans, and Bucky let him, lifting his hips the slightest bit because Bucky Barnes was a helpful man. “Yeah, yeah, we are. I’m holding a different kind of pipe here, though.” He waggled his eyebrows and Bucky groaned.

“I hate you.”

Sam smirked, then reached out and cupped the bulge in Bucky’s boxers, and Bucky choked on his next breath. His cock twitched, and he knew Sam could feel him straining against the fabric. “You won’t be hating me in a few minutes.”

“I could never hate you,” Bucky breathed, making Sam pause again. They stared at each other, and Bucky licked his lips again. He—that wasn’t—it was true.

Sam nodded slowly, then dropped his gaze, eyeing the tent in Bucky’s pants appraisingly, making him squirm, which was probably exactly what Sam had wanted him to do, the asshole. “Me either, Buck. No matter what.”

With those words, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Bucky’s boxers and pulled them all the way down. Bucky’s cock sprang free, bobbing eagerly and curling up to his stomach, making him flush all over, but Sam didn’t seem to notice or care. He reached out, letting his fingers ghost over his cock, making it twitch again.

“Good enough for you?” Bucky croaked, and Sam’s eyes flicked up to his face.

“Bucky Barnes. You are good enough for me.” And he thumbed the head of Bucky’s cock, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his slit, making Bucky hiss. “And I’m gonna prove it to you so that you realize the truth of what I just said.”

“Less talking, more—”

Sam cut him off by clamping a hand over his mouth and nose, and Bucky choked before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Holy shit. Holy shit. It felt like he’d just been hit by a truck and had all 206 bones crushed, but in a good way.

Sam removed his hand, and Bucky gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Sam gave him a smug look. “What were you saying?”

When Bucky opened his mouth to reiterate, Sam held up a finger and he shut his trap immediately.

“There you go. You’re learning.” Sam grinned, and straightened, though he didn’t let go of Bucky’s dick, and leaned in close enough that Bucky could feel his warm breath on his ear, tickling his skin. “I’m gonna mould you to be exactly what I want you to be. Gonna teach you, gonna make you learn.”

“Yeah,” Bucky blathered, nodding fiercely, nearly knocking his head against Sam’s. “Yeah, please, oh, god, Sam, please, I need it—”

Sam flashed him one last grin before taking his cock into his mouth, and Bucky’s eyes rolled into the back of his head again. Sam’s mouth was warm and velvety and wet, and the little flicks of his tongue against the slit of his cock made his knees shake. He gasped when he felt hands grip his balls, rolling them gently, and his hips jerked upwards without permission, without him meaning to, because Sam had that effect on him; Sam could make him do shit without him even realizing that he was doing it.

Sam hummed, and his hips snapped up again, and Sam—Jesus fucking Christ, Sam didn’t even choke.

He pulled off with an obscene pop and beamed up at Bucky. “Are you having a good time?”

“Shut up,” Bucky gasped, reaching out for—for—something. “Shut up, oh my god, I hate you so much.”

“Your dick disagrees.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s no way to talk to someone who just gave you a blowjob.” Sam gave him a mockingly hurt, disappointed look, then reached out to smack his dick hard enough that it sent a zwing! through Bucky’s body. He jerked, knocking his head against the wall, and Sam coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He glowered.

Sam gave in and laughed, straightening. Then, he let his hands fall to his belt, and Bucky watched, completely captivated, as Sam’s hands expertly slid the belt out of the loops before it was tossed behind them to join Bucky’s.

“Providing evidence,” Sam supplied when it clanged, echoing the first belt, and Bucky gave him a look. “It’s reinforcement.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky croaked, but his mind couldn’t stop replaying the scene that he’d just witnessed, how Sam’s fingers had deftly and nimbly fumbled with his belt, the thwip of his belt as he yanked it out of the loops, and before he could get a grip of himself, he was thinking of—of Sam slipping his belt out to—to make him bend over and turn his ass red, or maybe he could use his belt to restrain his hands behind his back, to hold onto them while he fucked Bucky hard enough for him to feel it the next day, or—so many endless possibilities.

While he’d been lost in his thoughts, Sam had taken the time to slip his boxers off too, and Bucky’s mouth watered when his eyes landed on his cock. Fuck, Sam was big. And Bucky couldn’t wait to have Sam fill him up, to have his entire world narrow down to Sam again, to feel like he was Sam’s, like he had a friend, like he had someone more than a friend, like he had warmth, not cold, like he had a home.

The thought hit him hard, and he jerked involuntarily as a cold wave of shock washed over him.

Like he had a home.

He did have a home now.

Sam was his home.

Bucky wasn’t… he had Sam, and he had a home, and he wasn’t homeless anymore. Because he’d found Sam. And that was why he wasn’t cold anymore; he had someone—not just a place, but someone—to keep him warm.

If they weren’t a second away from fucking, Bucky probably would’ve burst into tears from the sheer relief and—and—happiness and—

“Less thinking, more fucking,” Sam murmured into his ear, and Bucky jumped. He grunted, and let Sam place his hands on his hips to swivel him around so that he was practically presenting his ass for the man, and the thought sent a shiver down his spine. He let every tense muscle in his body relax. Sam could mould him any way he wanted; he was a blank slate for him. He was Sam’s.

Sam clearly realized that too, because he inhaled sharply and pressed flush against Bucky, close enough that his cock rubbed against Bucky’s ass, making him groan. “You’re so good, baby,” Sam breathed. “So good for me.”

“For you,” Bucky tried to agree, but it came out as a dazed mewl.

Sam chuckled and reached around to grip his cock, and he did, his hand forming a loose ‘o’ around Bucky’s dick, making him shudder as his body convulsed in response. “Tell me what you want,” Sam breathed. “I want to hear you say it.”

Bucky blinked, dazed, staring at the wall of the boat. It felt rough against his skin when he pressed against it, scraping him lightly in the best way possible, sort of like how it would feel if Sam raked his nails down his ass cheeks, marking him up, maybe after using his belt or—

He yelped when Sam cracked a hand down on his ass. They were quiet for a few moments until Bucky broke it by spluttering, “Please tell me you left a handprint.”

Sam laughed the hardest Bucky had ever heard him laugh. “God, you’re—you’re such a bottom. I never knew you were so needy, but you are.”

Bucky huffed, and Sam smiled. Bucky couldn’t see him, but he knew Sam had smiled.

Sam traced the blooming heat in his ass with his fingers before gripping his cheek, letting his nails dig in, and Bucky let out a low moan, his cock leaking pre-come copiously. “C’mon,” Sam crooned. “Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

Bucky did know. He swallowed hard, feeling like the wet click of his throat echoed in the space between them, and he gasped out, “I want you to fuck me. Please, I can’t—I need to feel you right now, I need to really feel you, I wanna make you feel good, too, I wanna—”

“Shhh, okay, baby.” Sam stroked a hand down his spine, slipping in underneath his shirt, and Bucky pushed into the touch, making a little noise in the back of his throat. “Okay, I’ll give that to you. You’re so good, fuck.”

Warmth spread all over Bucky, from head to toe, at Sam’s words. He was good. Sam thought he was good.

And not only was he good, he was about to get fucked into a new dimension.

Sam spread his cheeks, and Bucky shamelessly pushed into the touch, letting him, letting Sam have him, wanting him to… he paused.

And Sam paused too, going stock still, and it made Bucky’s heart drop to his ass. Did Sam—why wasn’t he…?

“We don’t have lube,” Sam said, and his voice was full of disappointment and dismay. “I—Buck, I can’t just fuck you without—”

“I have some.” Bucky’s voice was gravelly and low, surprising even himself with how desperate he sounded. “‘s in the back pocket of my jeans.”

Sam snorted, and Bucky rested his forehead on the wall, listening to Sam move around behind him. “Should I even be asking why you’re carrying around lube, Bucky Barnes?”

“Probably not.” Bucky huffed a small laugh, unable to hold it back. “Just been waitin’ for you to do this for a while now, I guess, maybe.”

Sam muttered something that sounded like, “Absolute charmer,” under his breath, and Bucky heard the rustle of Sam pulling out the lube, as well as the condom that he had pocketed with it. Sam barked out a laugh. “So prepared.”

“Very,” Bucky agreed, wriggling back smugly, earning himself another crack to his ass, which, of course, was exactly what he’d wanted. He gasped when he felt cold, wet fingers press against his entrance, and Sam snickered. “Jerk.”

“Careful,” Sam drawled, and bent down to nip at Bucky’s cheek, making him yelp again. “Wouldn’t want me to have to teach you a lesson when we’re having so much fun now.”

Bucky scowled, but it was just for show. The belt. Sam slipped a finger in easily, and then another, and Bucky moaned lowly when Sam sank them in deep enough to brush against his prostate.

“Oh my god, you’re dragging this on for longer than necessary,” Bucky complained, and got another smack for that. His cock twitched in response.

“I’m being safe,” Sam replied in a voice full of censure and amusement. “I want to be safe. Now shut up or I’ll make you.”

“Classic phrase,” Bucky breathed, and quickly shut up when Sam pinched his hip. His ass glowed with heat from the swats, and he moaned when Sam added fuel to the fire in his gut by adding a third finger, scissoring him easily, far too expertly, and it felt just as good as Bucky had imagined it would.

It felt like eons, but eventually, Sam drew back, and Bucky felt a flash of eager relief when he heard the telltale rustle of the condom wrapper. “Okay. Okay, you’re good now.”

“I’m good,” Bucky agreed.

“You want this?” Sam breathed, pressing close enough to let the head of his cock nudge against that spot between his cheeks.

Bucky felt a bone-deep ache from pure desperation. He nodded fiercely, blathering, “Yes, yes, please, I do, please, you— please!”

“You do please me,” Sam agreed, and slowly pushed in. “You do please me, baby.”

Bucky nearly cried from sheer relief at both the words and the feeling of Sam and he tried to push back, but Sam was gripping his hips still with his hands, tight, unrelenting, perfect.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky gasped, head reeling from the dizziness of the entire situation; he was going to fucking combust. “Holy—fuck, Sam, I’m gonna—fuck, oh my god, you—gonna, fuck—”

“Nah,” Sam gasped back, pressing him against the wall, and Bucky was gratified to hear him sound equally out of breath. “Nah, Buck, that’s what I’m gonna do to you.”

“Hurry up,” Bucky gritted out, scrabbling for a hold on the wall in vain. “Hurry up, holy shit, I’m gonna come if you don’t—”

“Now wouldn’t that be a sight?” Sam purred before doing exactly as Bucky demanded, hurrying up, gripping him tighter and beginning to snap his hips up in earnest. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good, so tight, I can’t—oh, god.”

“More,” Bucky begged, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling, in the sounds that Sam was making, the warmth that was surrounding him and enveloping his entire body, from Sam, it was all Sam, it was always Sam—

He spluttered when Sam hit his prostate, angling his hips up, and choked on his breath when Sam gasped, “So loud, Buck, so filthy, should—should give you something to keep your mouth occupied next time, can’t get caught, can’t charm your way out of that—”

“Less. Talking,” Bucky panted, “More. Fucking.”

Sam pressed closer, if that was even possible, and bit Bucky’s earlobe before letting his lips trace his veins down to the side of his neck, where he licked a hot, wet stripe before biting and sucking. “Gonna mark you up,” he muttered against his skin, and Bucky spluttered his agreement. “Gonna have to wear turtlenecks or something until it’s gone, but I’m gonna mark you up.”

“Do it, do it,” Bucky gasped, sounding just like a broken record. “Please.”

“Such good manners, baby, of course I will.” That was the last thing Sam said before he sucked and licked in earnest, his hips not slowing down for a single moment because he was just perfect like that.

When Sam pulled back, Bucky felt the side of his neck glowing with heat, so perfect, oh god, and his entire body shuddered at the thought that he was Sam’s, that everyone could see that he was Sam’s, if he wanted them to.

He gasped when Sam reached around to wrap a hand around cock, pumping in earnest, making him splutter like a broken motor. A broken record, a broken motor, a broken man, one that was being put together by Sam fucking Wilson, given a fucking home, a fucking dick, a fucking friend, a fucking world.

“S-Sam,” he gasped out, his legs shaking. Sam’s hand on his hip was probably the only thing holding him up now. “O-Oh, god, Sam.”

“What?” The palm of Sam’s hand rubbed against the head of his dick, making him keen. “What is it, baby? Tell me.”

“Sam,” Bucky gasped out again. “Sam, you—you’re my world. My fucking—oh, god.”

Sam’s hips stuttered in their rhythm for the first time, but his hand kept up its stroking—little things, these acts of mercy, Bucky thought dazedly. Sam pressed a kiss, a tender one, to his shoulder, right where his shirt had slipped down a bit, and that was all he had to do to tell Bucky that he understood.

His hand picked up its pace and Bucky cried out loud—fuck staying quiet, they were past that at this point—and it was so much, Sam, Sam, Sam, everywhere—

Before he even realized it, his hips jerked up and strings of white splattered Sam’s hand. He closed his eyes, gasping and spluttering through his high, and glowed, he glowed in the aftermath of it, in the warmth, basking in the sun, in Sam—

“Gonna come,” Sam grunted, and Bucky didn’t even have the energy to nod, so he made a noise in the back of his throat, and Sam understood.

He gasped when Sam’s pace picked up before drastically slowing, fucking him almost lazily, and the shaky moans and gasps told him that Sam was coming too, in him, and he suddenly regretted the condom, he wanted to feel Sam, that wasn’t fair—

“Shhh, baby.” Sam stroked a hand through his hair, pushing strands damp with sweat out of his forehead, and Bucky realized that there were tear streaks down his face. He gasped, fumbling to wipe them away, what the fuck. Sam pulled out, letting Bucky fall into his arms, closing his eyes.

Bucky didn’t reopen them for a while, not even when Sam jostled him a bit as he disposed of the condom, not until Sam pulled him tight, close, warm, and breathed, “So good, baby. You were so good.”

Bucky shivered, finally opening his eyes and staring up into Sam’s face, into his eyes. He saw nothing but warmth in them.

Sam traced his fingers across his cheeks and Bucky shivered again. “You okay?” Sam breathed, brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” Bucky croaked. He paused, licking his lips, and nodded. “Yeah. ‘s warm.”

Sam laughed. “Well, I mean, we did just fuck, it’d be weird if you were cold.”

Bucky smiled, and Sam smiled back at him, and that was enough to help balance him again, enough to nudge his world back up, enough to place him back on his feet.

They stayed that way for a while, with Sam holding Bucky in his arms as he leaned against the wall, sweaty but warm.

Sam was finally the one to break the silence.

“Jesus.” He wiped a hand across his forehead, looking around at the boat with a rueful expression on his face. “Now we really can’t sell this damn thing.”

Bucky laughed. Suddenly, he was laughing, and laughing, and laughing, and then he dove in for another kiss before murmuring against Sam’s lips, “Don’t worry. I’ll charm Sarah into keepin’ it.”

Sam snorted and shoved him off to press him back against the wall. “You, Bucky Barnes.” He pointed a finger at him accusingly, making Bucky grin. “You are a natural charmer.” His eyes moved down to follow the movement when Bucky bit his bottom lip—that’s mine to bite—and suggested breathily, “Round two?”

“Round two,” Bucky agreed, surging up to kiss Sam.

Sam… Sam was weird, but Bucky was okay with that, because Sam was his.

tagging everyone who enjoyed/reblogged part 1, in case you don’t want to miss it: @truckloadoffrogs @bri-sins @vanteguccir @rebel13lion39 @obstreperous-oobleck @preciouspeterbparker @seiya-starsniper @simply-simping @froginabog69 @vaguekiwi @winter-stark-er @birdsofgsy @imjustlikeyou28 @stivibi @inimitablebiscuit