#edited to put in the link to the fic! extremely sorry- i just noticed it while going through my account

[oftenderweapons]

Love Talk - Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 11k words

Genre: smut, fluff, (Taehyung is moody but no angst I guess) dating au, idol au

Rating: 18+

Finally! I can post this! My inner praise-thirsty brat has been missing y’all’s attention so here I am!

Actually I’ve managed to write the end this afternoon after I finished writing a whole chapter of my dissertation (God, why do I need a degree...)

Anyway, here is Taehyung’s take at love talk. This is clearly smut, so minors please, do not read or interact.

Quick recap/everything you need to know before reading. Taehyung and Lace (in this fic called many many nicknames since “Lace” hasn’t sticked yet) have been dating for a couple months and Tae has been taking it slow, they have done some coupley stuff and have made out, but they haven’t been really physical yet. Until he visits her late at night after coming back from a trip in Paris with Jimin. And he has a gift which might spark up something interesting. 

Disclaimer: Personally, I don’t see Lace as the stereotypical slim girl, but there’s a very generic reference to this. Also, Lace has taken bondage and basic domination lessons in a dungeon. Taehyung knows this. Both of them treat this fact as something serious rather than a kinky fun fact, since it comes from one of Lace’s insecurities.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: woah. so. Foreplay, mostly masturbation (male and female receiving), making out and grinding, marking, biting, Oral (male receiving), duality king Kim Taehyung, mental health and depression, body image issues, the characters discuss public sex, food play, oral sex, sensation play and impact play, wax play, tantric massage, BDSM, domination, bondage and submission, sex toys, exhibitionism, dungeons. Both the characters have had same-sex experiences and relationships. There might be a few swearwords here and there.

Wordcount: 11k. This thing is big so I’ll come back and edit it a bit at a time. 

Here is my masterlist!

And remember to vote for next prompt :) (link in bio!)

Enjoy <3

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“Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied right back. He was standing in the empty corridor at three a.m., the light coming from your doorway illuminating his chocolate curls, his eyes gleaming darkly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, opening the door and letting him in. 

The low lights of your hallway made him move slowly in the room, since he’d never ventured upstairs before. Reaching your living room, you switched on the small lamp beside the sofa, a gentle yellow warmth diffusing. 

“Your house is very pretty.” He said, looking around. 

“It’s basic. I’m still trying to buy some pieces as I go.” You commented, your mind still slowed down by sleep. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late.” He said. He was being extremely scarce with his words. “We arrived in town ten minutes ago.”

“How was our trip?” You asked out of habit. You were still trying to understand what to expect from this. 

“Very tiring.” He murmured. “I think I’ll be jetlagged all the way to next week.”

He had been in Paris with Jimin after being in London for group schedule. Of course he’d been conflicted between coming back to you and spending some time with his best friend, but at the same time, he thought you'd been dating for a short time and after all, he should give Jimin the priority. 

You smiled. “Eight hours?”

“Seven.” He corrected. “May I?” He gestured to the sofa, a two-seats dark red velvet number dominating the room entirely. 

You nodded. 

“You look incredible.” His low voice made your insides shake. “Have you just woken up?” He shook his head in disappointment. “I’ve woken you up, haven’t I?” He shook his head, reprimanding himself. 

“It’s okay.” You said, sitting beside him at a respectful distance. “What brings you here at three a.m. on a workday?” You asked, mischief tinting your voice. 

“I wanted to see you.” He replies dryly. 

What’s with the atmosphere?

Something felt off. It wasn’t just your sleep-addled mind. There was tension. 

“Okay.” You argued back in his same attitude. 

He shook his head, throwing his spine against the pillows, inflating his lungs. As he turned towards you, something lustful and obscure possessed his eyes. “Say yes.”

You furrowed your brow. “To what?”

“Fuck, just say yes, ____.” He begged with a growl. 

You bit your lip and nodded.

He was on you in a millisecond, kissing you with an intensity that you didn’t think his lithe figure could muster. Yes, of course he was solid under your touch but his body was sinewy rather than bulky. It was a matter of kinetic force rather than actual strength. 

He smothered you under his torso, your lungs constricting with the impact. The kiss wasn’t even an attempt at gentleness. It was a matter of teeth and tongues and sucking straight away. Your hand gripped the hair at his nape, trying to control him, slow him down. If he kept this up, he was going to bruise your lips. Soon he grew breathless and parted from your lips. His body was thrown over the sofa, over your lap, into your arms. 

“I’ve been thinking of this single spot for days.” He murmured, diving for the crook of your neck, immediately nibbling on it. One hand already on your hair, he tried to move the other one around you, between your back and the soft burgundy velvet. “And I find you all fuzzy and warm from sleep, skin tender, freshly woken up, wearing this sorry excuse of a nightgown.” He snarled.

“Taehyung.” You murmured. 

“Lace looks incredible on you, dove.” He lowered his head and started sucking on the upper curve of your left breast, clearly intending to leave a bruise. 

You combed his hair back, looking at him while his eyes stared into yours. 

“Tae, baby. Why don’t we get more comfortable? I have a queen size bed in the other room, are you sure you want to stay on the sofa?” You offered gently. 

He shook his head, still latched onto you, no intention of letting go whatsoever. 

"Taetae, you're gonna get a cramp, darling." You caressed his face with affection, his wide-eyed look making you weak. 

He finally parted from you and inspected the bruise. Happy with the result, he kissed the mark, drying it with his cheek, slightly scratching you with his stubble. "I think we should stay on the sofa." He argued with a rumble. 

He wouldn't answer for himself if he had you in bed. And it was too early to go all the way anyway. Of course his aim was getting his hands under your clothes — and possibly your hands under his, — but he also knew he wanted to take his time. His will was still strong enough to wait, but he knew, were he to be tempted, he would not hesitate. And he knew he wanted to play it slow, go one base at a time before diving all the way in. 

"Were you listening, Tae?" You asked, noticing the absent look on his face. 

He shook his head with an innocent look, his curls tickling your bosom. 

You giggled, fondness warming your gaze. "You want to stay here?" 

He nodded, his hair grazing your skin once more, his expression sparkling with a playful smile. 

"Then we'll stay here." You declared. "Do you want something to drink? Something to eat? To you it should be dinner time, right?" You fussed. 

"No, I'm okay, I'm trying to adjust." He explained. His expression went blank for a moment before lighting up in an Eureka! moment. "I have a gift for you!" He chimed happily. 

"Really?" You replied, incredulous. 

"It's a bit artsy and sexy, but it's from Paris, so…" He shrugged. 

"Oh, now I'm curious." You combed his hair back, exposing his forehead. 

"Let me—" He sat upright, disentangling himself from you. He sat cross-legged on the sofa and dove for his canvas bag. "Here." He said, handing you a paper bag. 

"Is it…" It was heavy. Very. You opened the bag and you were met with the heavy scent of printed paper. "A book." You realised, taking the volume in your hand, gently removing it from the bag. It was still covered in a thin layer of plastic. "Oh, God! It's that book! How did you find it?" 

He grinned. "A friendly bookseller. A connoisseur." He winked. "I didn't open it. I didn't want to ruin it. And I wanted to open it with you. Do you like it?" He dove into the crook of your neck once more, shaking his shaggy locks against your tender skin. 

"Thank you, baby." You kissed his cheek. You were still getting used to his mood swings from dark, charming gentleman to his bubbly tiger cub persona. “Do you mind if I go grab a glass of water and then we leaf through it together?” You asked. 

“Yeah. Grab one for me too.” If he had to have you half naked beside him for an hour or so, he’d better have something to keep him cool.

As you did your thing in the kitchen he looked around, wide eyed. The relaxing golden light coming from the lamp illuminated a shelf of fashion books and a series of black and white pictures on the walls. He recognised one as a feather. It looked very classy, still he knew you had bought it in a cheap shop downtown, a vintage parlour the two of you had visited during your fourth date. 

“Here, Tae.” You said, entering the room, putting the glasses on the small tables at each side of the sofa, one of which hosted the lamp. 

“Thank you.” He was sitting comfortably, legs slightly parted, his back laying on the sofa, elbows propped on the pillows. You stood in front of him, admiring him a little. 

He was used to being watched, but your scrutiny was so fierce and detached that he felt crystallised, as if any movement would send him shattering on the floor like a frozen leaf.

He looked up at you, mesmerised, but also so terribly afraid of your next move. Like you could incinerate him with your eyes. Slowly, he raised his back from his slouching, hands naturally meeting your hips. It was intimate and cold at the same time. You felt afraid of the intensity he could evoke with a simple touch and a glance. 

He called your name and it felt like an awakening, like you had never had a name before. His long lashes covered the upper part of his irises, giving you the sultriest, darkest look.

“Taehyung.” You whispered back, in hope you would sound just like he did. 

His hands moved from your hips to your waist, bringing you closer, right in front of him. He scooted closer to the edge of the cushion, his nose skimming the soft silk of your nightgown from your sternum to the dip of your navel. “I missed you, darling.” He kissed your belly, propping his chin on your stomach. 

Again, you combed his hair back. “I did send you a small gift, though.” You reminded him coolly. 

Once again he remembered the picture, the voice text, your breathy moans and needy whines as you whispered how much you were missing him, how dumb you had been to tell him that you could wait one more week before seeing him again. Your relationship wasn't sexual yet, but during his short stay in Paris you realised how quickly it had escalated, feeling the need to simply tell him how he made you feel, how hot it was to listen to his deep, warm voice as he talked about his day. He could have been reading his shopping list and you would get wet anyway. 

"You did send it." He replied. "And it was wholeheartedly appreciated." He said with a growl. 

You licked your lips as you noticed his legs spreading farther, parting to accommodate your standing figure. 

"Are you gonna make me beg for it?" He murmured, a pinch of worry in his voice. 

You raised an eyebrow, playing confused. 

Shaking his head, he tutted and grabbed your waist, his strong fingers digging into your skin as he turned you with his back to him, making you sit heavily between his thighs. "I won't beg for you tonight, Lace." He huffed minaciously in your ear, one arm coiling around your waist while his other palm dragged possessively from your hip bone to your knee, fingers digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

“Let’s look at your kinky, niche art book.” He growled at your ear.

Nodding silently, you bent to the coffee table, lunging for the book, your hair tumbling forward and exposing the naked expanse of your shoulders. 

Of course he profited from the moment, lunging forward, drawing the line of your spine with the tip of his nose, from the upper hem of your nightgown to your nape, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo. 

You almost lost your grip on the heavy book, your body responding to his touch with a deep shiver and a slight loss of balance. He gripped your waist tighter, helping you up. “Did you like that?” He asked. 

You let your short breath and stumbling heartbeat speak for you. 

“Did you like that, sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah.” You huffed. 

He chuckled gruffly. “Open the book.”

You used your nail to open the thin plastic foil, ripping it until you managed to open the cover. The first page was an unmade bed, the title printed in a dark, heavy font. 

“Passion portrayed”

The theme was very… French. Your ex-flatmate had recommended you the book, printed by one of her former university classmates. 

It didn’t even feign being ordinary or appropriate. From the very title of it, it was unmistakeably an erotic book, meant to expose intimate parts of the subjects’ life, exhibitionism in its most artistic vest.

“How does it work?” Asked Taehyung, his chin settling on your shoulder. 

“It’s a book.” You said, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but the theme.” He said, taking the book from your hands and turning it around, searching for an abstract.

You shrugged. “From what I’ve been told, some couples asked the photographer for a series of intimate pictures. They loved the results so much that they asked if the author ever thought of publishing them as a collection. The pictures were selected and rearranged to create this book.” You explained, using your forearm to sustain the back of the book, your hand turning the first page. 

“I like this.” Taehyung said, the page printed fully offering a wide, light green clearing in the middle of a wood. The straw field was bathed in orange twilight, the light cutting perfectly into the lens, creating small, interference halos in the picture. 

You smiled, nodding, your hair brushing against his cheek. 

He exhaled, his body relaxing. You felt so soft. Like his personal teddy bear. The skin of your thigh was warm against his palm, if slightly clammy. You were holding the book so to allow his hands to wander and he felt somehow confused and grateful for it, not knowing whether he could take advantage or whether you were just testing him. 

“Tell me when you want me to turn.” You said quietly. 

“Turn.” He said. The following two pages were only partly printed, hosting a smaller photograph on the center of each page. Both offered the same setting as before with a change of perspective, one lowered to the ground, in a picnic, the traditional chequered blanket laying on the ground, a wicker basket, small glass cups for wine, grapes, cheese and picturesque, cliché sandwiches; the other filtered through the backseat of a pickup. The definition of an American Sixties teenage rendezvous. “I can kind of figure where this is headed.” He murmured. 

You snickered. “I can only imagine.”

You turned the page again. Black and flashes of neon pink. Probably a club, empty. 

“Wow.” You said. The atmosphere had changed dramatically, contrasting with the previous page. The juxtaposition was somehow interesting. 

“Turn?” He asked.

You obeyed. Same disposition of pictures: two, smaller, at the center of the page, same setting — the club —  but through a different cut. A gothic black velvet armchair, the seat surrounded by elaborate swirls of sculpted ebony. The glimmering of metal in the darkness, reflecting the neon hot pink. 

“It looks like an adult club.” He murmured, his finger exploring the vague shape of chains hanging from the wall in the picture on the right. 

“I think so, too.” You agreed. “Have you ever visited one?” You asked, turning slightly to examine his reaction. 

He denied with a tut. “I’d like to visit one, though. It would be curious.” He shrugged.  “Have you?” 

You cocked your head to the side. “Kind of.”

He waited for you to elaborate. 

“Call it an occupational hazard of sort for a lingerie retailer. You just get used to a lot of crazy stuff, meet a lot of crazy people, get into a lot of crazy hobbies.” You approximately justified yourself.

“Was it for your… extracurricular?” He asked, a lazy smirk on his face. 

“Yeah.” You confirmed, licking your lips.

He nodded delicately, trying not to punch his chin into your collarbone. “Next?” He called and you turned the page. 

A bluish bathroom. Maybe a spa room, it had a massage bed. But everything was blue. Entirely blue. Blue tiles, blue floor, blue carpet, blue supplies. Blue. everywhere. Soothing, calm. “So much blue.” He commented. 

“I think she’s going through primary colours. Yellow, reddish pink, blue. We’ll see what’s next.” You explained. 

Tae stared at the picture. “Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure.” You turned the page. Again, two smaller pictures at the center of each page. The first one was a closeup of the massage bed, with its plush blue cover and a small shelf of products and candles. The other picture contained another detail, a white, thick candle and its burning wick against the dark blue tiles. 

You nodded with a knowing huff. 

“Want me to turn?” You asked. 

Taehyung hummed in approval. 

Black. And white. And grey. This is the same setting as the title page: bedroom, silken, glimmering sheets. But now you could figure out the rest of the room. A plain bedroom, the headboard made by a sophisticated tangle of iron swirls and bars, the rest of the scene empty except for a big wardrobe and a drawer. The setting in time is completely anonymous, the black and white chromatism killing any light that could suggest day or night or twilight. 

“Turn.”

First detail: the silken sheets appearing through the iron bars at the foot of the bed. 

Second detail: some absolutely ordinary, if not cheap and old clothes abandoned on the wooden floor of the room. 

This is where it starts. 

Taehyung was growing impatient, his hand getting restless on your leg. He started drawing small circles with his short nails on your inner thigh. "So…" 

You stopped turning the page, leaving it perfectly standing, pinched between your fingers. 

He suddenly shut his mouth, as if he had decided not to speak, however his glance gave him off, his eyes stuck on the page you had just uncovered. 

He moved his hand from your belly, catching your wrist and making you turn the page fully. 

On the page on the left a dainty, lithe female body occupied most of the picture, picturing the torso and lower body, covered only slightly in a cute, gingham lingerie set with small embroidered cherries. It looked like coquettish demureness, the combination extremely girly and juvenile on the model’s barely-there curves. 

You turned to Taehyung as you felt his adam’s apple bob against your neck. He was staring at the picture on the other page, where a wooden honey dipper hovered over the girl’s lower abdomen, dripping the sticky, sweet liquid on her skin, her bent thigh hiding her crotch from the camera. “I like the angle. And the colours.” You commented.

He nodded simply. 

You observed the picture for one more second before letting your fingers reach for the corner of the page to turn. 

“Would you let me do that to you?” He growled, leaving a soft kiss on your neck. 

Let him cover you in honey? “Would you lick it away?” You asked, curious, trying as hard as possible to play it cool. Secretly you were self-combusting. 

“Duh. Of course.” He kissed you again. 

“Yes.” You replied, without even thinking about it for half a second.

The following page moved back to the club, all black and magenta. This time everything you could see was the silhouette of someone laying on their front, naked, on a flat surface. It was impossible to recognise a male or female anatomy. It made everything more interesting. On the page beside, the picture focused on the dip of their spine, showing a vague outline of the shoulder blades and the frilly tip of a feather barely grazing the skin, as if the person in the room with them was running the… tool? down his or her spine. 

“And you, would you let me do this to you?” You asked, curious, looking at him. 

His fingers clawed at your lower thigh, making you hiss at his vicious grip. “You want to torture me, sweetie?” He teased, parting your thighs. The cool air licked at your sweaty skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Want to make me furious? Get me mad?” His lazy, soft kisses turned into an aggressive nipping, his main intent that of making bruises bloom on your tender skin. 

“I want to see you wild.” You replied, still hoping to sound detached, even though at this point it was your own arousal rather than your sweat making your thighs clammy. “I’ve seen your stages. You roar.” You used your free hand to grab and knead his knee, but unfortunately he stopped you. 

“Hands on the book.” He reprimanded. “What about my stages?”

Flashbacks of his Singularity performances ran through your mind. “You’re sultry. Seductive. Predatory. And so aggressive.” You explained. “So sinful...”  You admitted.

“I know it drives you crazy.” He whispered, nuzzling into the underside of your ear. 

“Fucking insane.” You huffed out, leaning into him. 

He chuckled. “You’re so weak for me.” He mocked you. 

You wiggled a little in his hold, your backside brushing against his lap, a deep, vibratoed moan exiting his mouth. “You’re so weak for me.” You teased back. 

And then you squealed. He had just bitten your shoulder. “Turn the page, you menace.”

You did as you were told. This time it was a woman for sure laying on the massage bed, her body covered from chest to knee by a pale fluffy towel. Again, everything felt a bit too blue. You liked that she looked overall fuller, curvier than the previous models, the towel draping around her curved belly, her fleshy thighs. It wasn’t that strategically planned plumpness. It was genuine, showing both the traditionally attractive and the socially unaccepted parts of body fat. It wasn’t all tits and ass. It was arms, calves, belly. And it looked beautiful. Still, you couldn’t see her face.

“You like her?” Taehyung asked. 

You shrugged. “Her body's non-canonically beautiful. You can tell that she loves her body. I like that she didn’t let society kill her vibe, that she likes her body so much that she wanted to have this kind of pictures taken. I think she trusts the photographer a lot.” You shook your head. “I’m so dumb. All of them must have trusted the photographer a lot. I don’t know why a curvier person would be more insecure about her body than a slimmer person.”

“I think society kind of taught us that people who don’t adhere to a certain beauty standard should or actually do feel ashamed for it.” Taehyung mumbled. “I don’t see why a curvier girl should be ashamed. And curvy is not just the sexy curve. Curvy is fleshy, handfuls everywhere. I don’t really care. I just want flesh and fullness to grip while I’m fucking.” He continued mumbling with a slightly careless but also complaining tone. 

Suddenly the meaning of the hand coming around your middle, gripping the skin on your side and occasionally your love handles changed meaning. “So that’s what you were doing when you gripped me?” You asked. The first time he did it during one of your previous dates, you had felt wary, almost called-out by his action. 

“When?”

“The first time we kissed. And then some.” You blushed. “I thought you were pointing out that I’m fat.”

“You’re not fat. You’re beautiful and sexy and yeah, you’re soft, so what? You feel so good. And we all have body fat. You like eating. You eat regularly and healthily. You care for yourself and love yourself. You’re one of the most confident women I’ve ever seen.”

You dipped your head, trying to avoid spilling the tear almost rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

“And you make lingerie look like sin.” He added, turning your head and holding you tighter. “I grip you and grab you because you’re sexy and because I need to stop myself from doing dumb, ridiculous stuff. And you’re squishy. It calms down my nerves. It soothes me.” He kissed your cheek. “If you ever decided to lose weight I would support you, of course, but if it were for me, I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He kissed you again. “And look!” he pointed to the following photography. “She seems to like curvy girls too.” He pointed to the other female figure appearing in the picture, standing beside the bed, untucking the towel and revealing the top of the laying woman’s breasts. “I like that they have a same-sex couple. Do you think they’ll have two boys too?” He asked. 

“Are you interested?” You asked, no judgement or excitement in your voice, trying to silently communicate that he was safe whatever his reply would be. 

“I mean, you have two girls, why not two boys?” He said, raising one shoulder. “Plus, I’m not opposed to it.”

“Have you ever had a boy?” You asked, quite blatantly.

He tutted. “It was a quick thing. I prefer girls, I think. The female body is more attractive.” He confessed. “It has way more secrets. It’s more interesting to explore.” He pushed his hips against your backside. “I think that the moment I feel attraction and curiosity, I let myself experience it. I don’t limit myself to something as dumb as gender.”

You loved his eclectic, versatile tastes. He is experimental and seductive, a natural hedonist. 

“That sounds good for you.” You admitted. 

“Have you had girls?” He asked, curious. 

You smiled. “Yeah. I was in a relationship with a girl, in uni. A small thing.” You told him. “And yeah, they’re more interesting.”

“Right, you mentioned.” Taehyung remembered.

“I don’t wanna sound rude or pervy but… how was the sex? I mean, is it different, other than anatomically speaking?” He asked. 

You exhaled, thinking about it more accurately, trying to remember. “Every person is different. I never really had male lovers, but the few subs I had all  had something special and different — not that I had that many, that is.” You blushed. 

He nosed his way through your hair and against your nape. 

“It was more… conversational?” You tried finding the right word. “We gave each other a lot of constructive feedback.” You reminisced. “And fuck, I loved how responsive she was.” You scrunched your face. “I do miss fucking a girl every now and then. Wrecking a pretty girl gives me quite a boost of adrenaline and self esteem.” You admitted with a wild, embarrassed laugh. 

“I agree to that.” He laughed too, his diaphragm moving with a belly laugh that ricocheted from his stomach into your back. “I can’t wait to wreck you.” He spoke with a dirty, hot, gruff voice. 

You arched your neck, offering him the curve of your shoulder as you licked your lower lip. “Why aren’t you inside me already?”

The hand on your thigh, which had lost some pressure, climbed half an inch higher. “Because you couldn’t wait to see this book.” 

You shook your head in disagreement. 

“And because I’ll put my fingers inside you first.” He said aggressively. “And because I’m waiting. When I’m so desperate that I’ll wake up sweaty and horny in the middle of the night because I was dreaming of your dripping, sweet cunt on my face, then I’ll come fuck you until your entire body is nothing but a pretty toy trained for my pleasure.” His hand shifted from the harsh grip on your side to the devious, light, teasing fingertip tracing your puffy areola and erect nipple which were pushing against the satin of your nightgown. "I need to wake up so fucked out that I can conjure your taste in my mouth, that I can almost feel the wetness of you around my fingers. Your pretty, red lips around my cock.” 

You hummed at that, wanting nothing but the stretching feel of his blunt, long erection inside your mouth, warm and salty down your throat. “Fuck my mouth, Tae. Please.”

He snarled and snickered. “Not a chance, darling. Now, turn the page.” He felt dumb for turning you down, but he had plans. He needed to resist. Good boys go to heaven. 

Turn the page. The black and white felt soothing after all the coloured shots. “Oh.” 

Taehyung breathed out loudly. “Fuck.”

You were too fascinated by the picture to look at him. 

“Yes?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” You replied. 

“You’d let me?” He asked again. 

You nodded. “Would you? Let me, I mean...”

“You wanna tie me up?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You momentarily put the book on your legs joining your pointer fingers together at the fingertip. “I have taken lessons, so...” You bit your lip, blushing.

He kissed your shoulder. “I can’t wait to try that. With you.” He gave you small bites this time, playful and caring. “And I’d be very happy if you taught me too.” His hand caressed your belly gently, the other one digging in the valley between your joined tights. 

“Thank you, baby.” You pressed your shoulders into his chest enjoying the solid feeling of his body supporting yours. 

“Anything for you.” He replied politely. “Now, can we move on?” He asked, trying to ignore the picture that had sparked the conversation, where a man wearing only boxers laid in bed, his wrists tied to the bedpost with a sturdy, rough rope. 

You nodded, picking up the book and turning the page. Back to the babygirl in the field. This time her lover had his mouth on her; the shot a closeup of his stubbly cheek and chin and his open mouth sucking at her inner thigh. In the matching picture his mouth was on her small breast, sucking her nipple over the fabric of her bra. You clenched your legs slightly, wiggling a little in your seat. 

It went maybe unnoticed. Maybe. Taehyung stopped breathing for a second, until you settled and he managed to gain his cool again. 

You managed to keep it cool with the second set, the dungeon, where the only thing really happening was for the feather to caress the submissive’s ass, in the picture on the left, only to be substituted by a furred glove on the following photograph. 

The third set had Taehyung gasping and moaning. You simply breathed out a small laugh. “Will you do this to me too?” You asked. 

“I’m gonna worship you head to toe, dove.” He grinned, observing the pictures. Both involved the standing woman massaging the laying one, with strong, oiled hands kneading the round globes of her ass and thighs, the soft and pale plants of her feet. 

“I love your hands.” You murmured, placing yours atop the one on your navel. 

He smirked. “Don’t you?” He twisted his wrist to intertwine your fingers. 

Nodding, you added: “They look so strong. And big.” You took a deep breath, daydreaming about the feel of them grabbing your breasts, your ass, your neck, pinning your wrists, moving inside you. Your brain had a special gallery dedicated exclusively to his hands. 

“I bet you can’t wait to have them inside you.” He teased, the hand on your thigh climbing a little closer to your heat. You were wondering how long it would take for him to find out about your little surprise for him. 

Let him live in innocence for now. 

“That, yes.” You admitted, not even playing coy. “And also I can’t wait to see them on yourself.” You provoked him, hoping that he would understand. 

“You want to see me touch myself?” He asked, his face absolutely impassive. 

“Yes.” You replied plainly. 

He laughed with a series of quiet exhales. “We’ll see.”

You turned a few pages, observing all the small details of the four different foreplay scenes. 

“Would you do it outdoors?” He asked at a certain point, his stare fixed on the coquettish blonde angel sucking off her partner at the picnic. 

You raised an eyebrow. “If the setting was right, yes. Though here in Seoul it's quite difficult.”

“We could visit my hometown. There are a lot of empty, remote fields over there.” He said, his arm holding you tight as he made both your bodies scoot back, away from the edge of the sofa.

“I would rather avoid you risking your career for a fuck out in the open air.” You commented pragmatically. 

“We’re only risking that if we get caught. And I’m sure we’re smart enough.” He tried to convince you. 

“What about insects? Bugs? Safety?” You asked, concerned. 

“We’ll think about it in detail if we ever decide to walk down this path, yeah?” He suggested respectfully. 

You pouted, nodding in agreement. 

“Holy shit, look at this.” You commented, quite shocked. In the dungeon, the dom was sprinkling glitters on the backside of his submissive, which you had discovered being — much to Taehyung’s chagrin — also a man.

“I want that. Oh my God, they're gonna get all over the place.” He replied, frowning at the thought. “You can go through major catastrophes and those bitches would still colonize every nook and cranny of your body.” His brow creased. “But fuck it looks amazing.” Especially since in the second picture the dom was using a leather glove to spank his sub, making all the glitter disperse into the air at the impact, creating a purplish halo around the silhouette of the spankee.

“I’m gonna spank you.” He said, out of the blue. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

Yes, sir, Your slutty brain replied. “We’ll see,” you said out loud. 

Ha laughed dryly. "You'll want me to. It's only a matter of time."

You turned around, smirking at him. You tipped his chin back with a finger, kissing him with a cruel tenderness. His eyes closed, initially surprised, but then he became more than eager to deepen the kiss. Still you drew back, while his mouth tried to chase after yours. 

"No." You whispered. 

"Are you telling me no?" He asked gruffly. "Mh?" The hand between your thighs had kept rising and by now his palm laid on the junction between your hip and thigh, his index tracing your mound. "Is it a no?" 

You moaned lasciviously. Was he going to discover your surprise for him? 

He finally reached your sex, expecting to meet a wet patch on your underwear. "____. Where are your panties?" He murmured in your ear. 

You bit your lip. "Not wearing any." You murmured gently. 

"Say it again." He growled. 

"I'm not wearing panties, Tae." You mewled tauntingly. 

He moved his hand from your navel to your breast, the other one cupping your crotch. 

"Naughty girl." He snarled. "Bad, bad girl." His mouth latched at your neck while his hands pushed you further into him, his erection pressing against the small of your back. 

"I want you." You whined. "So bad, Tae. Please." 

"You're wet for me?" He said, his mouth parting from your skin long enough to interrogate you, only to continue to lick you as soon as he was done talking. 

"I'm drenched. I want you. Make me cum, Tae, please."

His chest shook with an evil laugh. "You told me no earlier." He replied. 

"I made a mistake. I only wanted to tease you." You cried out, your free hand trying to reach for his between your legs. 

"Hands on the book, bad kitty." He said, nibbling your earlobe.

You obeyed with some quiet complaining. 

"Why would you tease me?" He asked

"I wanted you to want me." You confessed. "I wanted you to stop resisting me."

"I'm not gonna fuck you." He repeated. "But nothing is stopping me from making you cum with my fingers." He kissed your temple. "Are you okay with that?" 

You nodded. "Just make me cum, Tae." 

He snickered. "Then keep your hands on the book. Keep watching your kinky pictures. Let's see what makes you even wetter."

You whimpered as his long fingers moved against your folds, and you parted your legs further to grant him better access. 

On the following page, the women had moved from a tantric massage to a steamy, slow session of waxplay. The receiving partner was now laying on her back, her breasts exposed for her lover, her skin glistening with oil as the other woman let a droplet fall on her unmarred skin, however you could tell it wasn't the first drop from a stain barely visible in the corner of the picture, out of focus. 

Taehyung interrupted your musings with a twitch of his fingers, while he spoke directly in your ear. "What about waxplay, darling? Would you like to try that?" 

You exhaled at the movement, your head falling forward as the muscles on your neck went slack. 

"Your body would be a work of art, covered in coconut oil, sweat, droplets of wax and my cum."

You felt your soul leave your body. From your seated position your inner organs were positioned so that his fingers perfectly reached your g-spot. "Fuck, Tae, you're fucking perfect."

He kissed the corner of your mouth, the hand on your chest toying with the hem of your nightie until he slipped the strap off your shoulder and uncovered your naked breast. "Oh, you like it." He bent some more trying to reach for your mouth. He thought about using one hand to turn your face but he was content with where they were at the moment. 

The black and white bondage scene turned into a submission exercise, the woman standing on her knees over the face of the laying man, using a vibrator to pleasure herself. 

And he simply laid there, mouth open, waiting. You almost turned when Taehyung stopped you. "I'd love to try that." His voice was slightly strained, probably from the strange angle he was in. Both his arms were busy and working from a difficult position. Not that you noticed. 

Ever since he had started touching you, you had been in a haze, your head feeling extremely light and floaty. 

"Anything you want." You replied before your voice broke in a mewl. "I'm close." You were, already, and incredibly so. All you needed was for him to keep talking. "I wanna hear your voice."

"What do you want to hear, Lace? How soft your cunt feels on my fingers? It feels like fucking velvet, darling. Do you want to know how much I wanna eat you?" He moved closer to your ear. “I wanna hear you scream for me, Lace. I want you to be so loud that everyone will know you’re having the best orgasm of your life.” He bit your earlobe. “I’m gonna make you cum so many times you lose count. I’m gonna make you regret teasing me. I’m gonna make you cry in every best way possible.” His fingers moved faster between your legs, his thumb meeting your clit. “I’m gonna fuck you so much you’re gonna hate yourself for complaining I haven’t fucked you yet.”

His dirty words got to your head like liquor, your hips undulating to find the final stimulus you needed to come apart. You felt your backbone roll dangerously and in a few seconds you snapped forward, his forearm on your chest keeping you upright through your climax. “That’s it, Lace. Ride my fingers.” He commanded and you complied, like the needy, desperate animal you are for him. Only for him. 

Never in your life had you experienced the need to bend over backwards for anyone, least of all a man; yet, here you were, pliant like putty in his hands, feeling submissive for the first time of your life. “Taehyung.” You whispered, too lost to realise it was barely hearable. Still, he noticed, slowing down his movements. 

“Are you okay, dove?” He checked on you, his voice warm and caring. 

You shook your head yes. “I need a second.” You said through heavy breath.

He moved away the hand on your breast, bringing it to your cheek, making you ease back against him and cradling your body gently. “It was beautiful, Lace. Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you do that again.” He murmured, comforting you and praising you. 

You giggled cutely in reply, turning toward his face and puckering your lips. 

He read your cue and pressed his lips to yours chastely. “Need some water, dove?” He asked. 

You nodded and for a second he thought how he could possibly grab the closest glass with both his hands busy. Noticing that, you caught his dirty hand and brought it to your face.

“Lace.” He groaned as you observed the slick coating his fingers. 

“Tae.” You groaned right back at him, turning to give him a nice view before you put his fingers in your mouth, sucking lewdly. 

His hips rolled below you, his eyes fighting to stay open while his forehead met your temple, jaw hanging low in a silent invitation to slide your tongue in his mouth. What you did, your devious will overpowering you, was to free his digits and part them in a V against your lips and chin, lashing your tongue out in the valley between his middle and ring finger to make out with him. 

The sound he emitted was something so dirty and lewd that you found yourself turned on again, ready to slip his hand between your thighs once more.

“I cannot fuck you tonight.” He reminded himself once he parted from your tongue — and his hand. 

“I still don’t see why.” You teased, always the temptress in a wild attempt to lure him into your bed. 

“I need to take my time.” He gave himself the whole talk. “I need to learn you, your language, your tells and cues. Let’s run the bases and then I’ll take it home. Let’s enjoy every little step that takes us there.” He explained, giving you his whole vision. 

You nodded. This is what he wanted. To make every single milestone meaningful, important, unique. “You should have said.” You caressed his face. “I wouldn’t have been so bratty, had I know of that.” You kissed his cheekbone. 

“It’s cool.” He breathed out, eyes shut, teeth gritted. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, fondling him some more.

“I’m just… dealing with something.” He replied, stressed, pressing his hips against your. 

And you felt him. He must have been pretty big. 

“Would you let me take care of you?” You questioned tentatively.

He shook his head. Then waited a few second. “Would it be okay if I grind against you?”

You raised your eyebrows, only to grin madly after it. “Yeah. Whatever works for you, love. Touch yourself, grind, I don’t care, just… let me be there for you.” You comforted him. 

“Water first.” He said, using his clean hand to reach for the glass, mourning the departure from your chest for a quick second. As soon as he brought the glass to your lips, you took it from his grasp and placed his palm back to your chest, taking a small sip and and offering him some. He stretched over your shoulder and you helped him drink, tipping the glass carefully to avoid him choking or spilling. As soon as he was done you moved the glass back to the small table, grabbing the book in the process. 

“Okay, back to where we left.” His hand covered in a dried up mixture of your and his spit laid on your navel, hiking up your nightie. The other was cementified to your naked breast, toying with your nipple. 

On the pages there was an escalation of foreplay, the American sweethearts moving on to her offering him a blowjob.

“You okay with that?” You asked Taehyung, refusing to assume that all men love blowjobs. 

“I think so, yeah. I hope in the near future I’ll be able to feed you my cock multiples time a day, sweetie.” He indulged in your kink, still shocked by your earlier request to suck him off. 

You had to stop yourself from asking him to feed you now. He had asked for one step at a time. You owed him that. “All you need to do is ask, Tae.” You simply reminded him. 

“Can’t wait to see you on your knees for me.” He mumbled, his hips thrusting up against you.

“What about spanking tools?” He asked as you turned the page, amazed by the riding crop that the dom was sporting. 

“I’ve used them in the past, but I’ve never had them used on me.” You confessed. “I tested them on myself first before using them on someone, obviously, but I was never… I’ve never been truly dominated by someone else, so—”

He moaned and caressed your neck with the tip of his nose. “That’s okay. We don’t have to...”

You shook your head. “I want to, though. Just— easy. As you said, one step at a time.”

He ohed at that, nipping at your jutting collarbone. 

You went through some more pages, discussing details, objects, feelings. 

Of course your fascination with the dungeon scene grew when Taehyung cupped your pubis once more as a flogger appeared in the picture. “I’m close, I just wanna feel your wetness.” He explained. “I’d love to use that—” He indicated the flogger with a gesture of his chin “—to tease you. Drag its soft tips from your toes to your breasts, flick it innocently over your sensitive nipples. Draw lazy circles on your belly. Watch you lick, suck and hump the handle.”

You awed at that. Most importantly you awed at how he was pressing his hard on against your asscheeks through his trousers and your nightie. 

“I’m close.” After ten minutes of being on the very edge of it, he gave up and brought his hand to his crotch, just adding more pressure. You felt somehow disappointed that you wouldn’t feel him on you anymore. 

The next page was his undoing. In the bedroom scene, the man was still bound, propped up against the pillows, wide eyed, imploring. On the right page you discovered why: the woman was showing him her backside, on her knees, chest to the mattress, fucking herself with a huge dildo. “Fuck” he growled. “Lace, would you?” He asked, needing you to talk, to give him a scenario. 

“Yes, I would. I would do it like that but I would also do it with your cock in my mouth, the dildo making me so relaxed that I could easily deepthroat the monster you’re hiding in your pants, mister.” You teased. 

He smiled like the devil, barely holding in a snicker. “Fuck that, Lace, you just want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” He mocked. 

“I’ve never been so hungry for a cock, Taehyung. I just want to see you fucked out.” You had never felt so dirty and sexy in your life. You were fighting with your teeth and claws for him. There were so many people out there willing to do anything to get him. Might as well set the bar up high and offer him more than anyone else would ever dare to. 

He whimpered, his forehead pressed to your nape. 

You turned, grabbing his chin, making him look at you. “Let me see that bliss, Tae. Show me your pretty face when you cum for me.” You spurred him on gently. “Give me your best look. Come on, I wanna save that for the next time I fuck myself with my toy. Please.”

And he crumbled, holding your gaze, precipitating into oblivion. His mouth hung open, releasing a deep cry while his chest fell into your shoulders, pressing into you. He couldn’t care less about cumming in his pants, or messing up his trousers, in that moment he was only looking for a way to let his soul slither under your skin and tangle with yours. He wanted closeness and warmth and to leave his body and feel light. 

When you saw his eyelids tremble, you tutted repeatedly, calling for his attention. “Keep looking at me, baby bear.”

He whined at the nickname, fighting the postorgasmic haze threatening to drag him under. 

You fumbled with your hold of the book, freeing a hand to caress his wavy hair. “That’s it, baby.” You murmured, finally allowing him to let go of the snippet of control he had left over his body. “Are you okay, Tae?”

He nodded and inhaled against your neck, his mouth opening and laving your skin with heavy, wide and wet licks. He still had his hand between your legs and it looked like he was very happy with it.

"Are you happy, baby?" You asked him, combing his hair back. 

He simply offered you an elated smile, nodding and nuzzling into you. 

"You look so pretty when you cum, Tae. And so damn sexy." You praised him, being absolutely straightforward about your thoughts. 

"I feel so good, ____." He said, his expression completely blissful. 

"Do you want to keep leafing through the book?" You asked, still completely focused on him. 

He scratched his cheek and nodded, even though he barely hid a yawn. 

After making sure that he really wanted to keep going, you took hold of the book again. The couples in the pictures moved on from foreplay to actual intercourse, simply showing the closeness of body parts, but never including genitals in the photographs. It was only possible to identify which belonged to whom because of the light and setting. You appreciated the so-to-say gender neutrality of the shots.

"It's interesting how all the couples feel the same. The positions are slightly different but still there's always the same closeness, intensity, passion and intimacy." He noticed. 

You agreed. 

"It feels like they're together not just as in doing stuff together but actually exist together. They're one." He said, running his finger along the same possessive pose of the arm — snaking around the lovers back and keeping them close — which was featured on four different pictures put together, side by side, from each of the couples. 

And finally it was the open mouths, the hard grips, the arched backs of an orgasm. 

"It's so… Natural. The way we feel pleasure." He murmured, his heavy breathing and the movement of his lips teasing the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I mean, I know that there are some people who don't like sex. Or who don't perceive it as a necessity. And that's natural too." He thought about it some more. "But this feels like a universal language. Like music. You can read it in its little signs." 

You were growing impatient again. The book was almost over, only a few pages left. What happens now? Does he want to leave? Is he going to stay? 

You hesitated before turning the page, but he spurred you on. 

This was aftercare. While the other photographs looked like they were made for the observers' aesthetic pleasure, this looked like invading the models' privacy. 

"I feel uncomfortable." You spoke gently. 

Taehyung worried. "Is it… Do you need space?" He asked, realising that you've been sitting for almost an hour in a very uncomfortable position. He started unraveling his hold on you but you stopped him, blocking his hand between your legs with the muscles of your thighs and blocking his other arm by catching his wrist. "I was talking about the pictures. It feels like I'm seeing something that I'm not supposed to see."

"Yup." He agreed. "But I like the one in the field. The one with the sweethearts." The sun had almost completely set behind the trees and the boy and girl were sitting exhausted in the backseat, her body perched on top of him, his head resting on her breast. "I would stay inside too." Taehyung said. "It's so warm. Intimate. And when you're tired and vulnerable it's so good to feel that emotionally together with someone. To stay sheathed inside." He mused. 

You felt his fingers twitch almost imperceptibly on your folds. A wave of wetness oozed out. 

"Oh, you're ready for another, doll?" He grinned, brushing against you more pressingly. 

"Tae." You cried out. 

"Yes, Lace?" 

"Let me suck you." You said with a more imposing voice than before. 

He made you turn your head and look him in the eye. 

"You want that so bad?" He asked mischievously. "I guess you won't have any problem saying it again as you look me in eyes if you're truly so desperate for my dick."

You shook your head briefly. "Please Tae, let me suck your dick. If you don't give that to me I swear I'll go down the street and suck it to the first attractive man I see." You said, growing impatient both to his denying and his teasing. 

"How can I say no to that?" He grinned sardonically. "Plus it would be dumb of me to put you at risk, wandering through the streets at this hour of the night wearing that skimpy mess of a nightgown." He parted your hair and moved it to the side, removing the locks that had stuck to your neck because of your sweat and his saliva. "And no panties.” His hand squished your breast aggressively. “You're driving me crazy with all this lace, baby.” He took a small pause, like he was thinking. “Come on, you want my cock in your mouth? Get in position and be ready to take it." He directed you harshly. 

You put away the book, only the acknowledgements page left unread, and jumped to your feet, much to his chagrin, kneeling on the floor with the speed of a lightning. 

“God, you sure are hungry for my dick, uh?” He kept getting cockier and cockier. 

You probably should have played it cool, but you were too into it to fake aloofness. “Undo your trousers, Tae, please.”

He smirked, his eyelids lowered to look at you on the floor. He looked like a sex god, the kind of god that teaches unspeakable, sinful things. 

His hands moved slowly and deliberately, so that you had the time to spot a wet patch of fabric where his tip was located. As soon as he undid his belt, you threw your hands at his button, but he stopped you. 

“You don’t want me to block your hands, do you?” He warned you. 

You raised an eyebrow as if doubting his words. 

“I know basic knots, doll. Don’t test me.” He growled. 

You pouted and looked at the floor. 

He tutted. “Have I offended you, doll?” He questioned. 

You rocked your head in a way that meant “so and so”. 

He shook his head. “I’m so strict with you. I’m sorry, Lace.” He took a moment, thinking about how to make it up to you. “Would you be happy again if I asked you to pick a toy to play with while I use your mouth, doll?”

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise as you processed his request. You looked up at him. His zipper was undone, his cock partly out, his hand slowly, heavily petting it. 

“Is this what you wanted to see, doll?” He threw his head back, licking his lips and giving you quite the show. “Go pick your toy, nymph.”

You sucked your lips in, indecisive between staying and not losing one second of this view or going to get something to relieve yourself.

“Go quick, doll.” He ordered. 

Staying with your eyes fixed on him, you stood up and walked backwards to your room, running as soon as he got out of your sight. You quickly fished your favourite dildo from your bedside table, rushing back to the sofa. 

“Here already? You chose quickly, doll. Are you sure you chose wisely?” He questioned, his voice caving when his hand reached the tip and circled it slowly but energetically.

“Yes, Taehyung.” You said, showing him your candidate, turning it so he could analyse it. 

“It’s a very nice toy.” He commented, “It looks squishy.”

“It’s a special silicone.” You explained. “It was expensive but it feels amazing. And it’s safe, most importantly. No silly, cheap rubber.”

“Excellent, sweetie. Come kneel, doll.” He invited you and you complied obediently. “Such a good girl.” He praised you. “Look at you, all pretty, diligent, cute and wide-eyed. Who would guess that you’re the filthiest nymph ever?” He sat on the edge of the pillow, spreading his legs as far as his trousers allowed.

“May I roll them down?” You asked, leaving the toy stranding on its base on the floor while he nodded, your hands tried to push his linen trousers to his calves and ankles. 

“I want you to put the toy inside, doll.” He growled. 

You looked at him with an endearing expression. “Will you make it wet for me?”

“Want me to spit on it, doll?” He asked and you nodded neutrally. 

He started collecting some saliva in his mouth before ducking to collect the accessory and rolling his tongue out, letting the liquid spread over the thick head. 

“The base is important.” You tipped him, “it’s were I need it to be more slippery, since it’s thicker.”

“Okay, dove.” He said, his lips puckering dragging a thick coat of wetness all around the base. 

It looked very erotic. Especially with his other hand stroking his shaft

What looked even more erotic was to see him stare at you before sliding his face up, all the way to the tip, his mouth opening and swallowing two thirds of the impressive length. His hand became faster on his hard-on.

“Holy shit, Tae, I— ” Words lost sound and meaning when you saw him bob his head on the toy, closing his eyes and moaning. He played with it for a minute or so before slipping it out of his lips, offering it to your chin. 

There is a saying. No sub is truly trained unless they kiss whatever their dom puts before their lips. 

And you kissed it. 

He grinned with lust-fevered eyes. “Put it in, Lace.”

You took a second, staring at him. Your hands naturally reached the hem of your nightie and dragged it up and away.

“Fuck, doll. Look at those tits, you’re delicious, babe.” He praised you, and you beamed up at him, retrieving your toy and bringing it between your thighs, the tip already at your entrance.

“In, Lace.”

Once more you obeyed.

A moan escaped your throat and echoed from his own lips. He had moaned himself. 

“Shit, all the way in nymph. All the way.” He said, replicating your pace on his cock. 

When you bottomed out, he gripped his base, slipping his hand down to his balls and squeezing them delicately. With his eyes closed, head thrown back, he rumbled: “leave it there. Don’t move. If you can make me cum before you do, I’ll stay the night. But remember I won’t be fucking you.” He regained his controlled demeanour, staring at you, voice empathetic. “It’s up to you. I’ll still go if you want me to. Just know that there’s a way, if you want to make me stay.”

Distracting yourself from the filling sensation, you dragged yourself back to reality, making the best of the moment. As his hand gripped his base, you leaned in and licked the head with the tip of your tongue. 

His rumble sounded like an earthquake. “Do what you want to, doll. Remember our game.”

Grinning, you opened your mouth and took him in as far as he would go. 

You took maybe one third of him. 

God, he was so big, his skin glistening, his veins pulsating so fascinatingly just under the surface. 

He caressed your face and hummed. "Beautiful." 

You took two more inches, eyes watering, lungs burning, but oh so determined to take all of him. 

Backing up a little, you released some of his length to focus on the tip, twirling your tongue around it as you regained your breathing. 

When you felt ready, you sinked again, adding one inch to your previous goal. 

"Fuck, so tight, doll, you're a crime." His hips jutted forward and you opened your eyes wide, a little surprised by the motion. A single teardrop spilled, not due to discomfort but only to his shaft hitting the back of your throat. 

"You okay, doll?" He checked in on you as soon as he felt the droplet hit his thumb. His hand gently tangled in your hair and pushed you back delicately, trying to free your mouth. You whined as his tip slipped out of you with a pop, even though you had tried to suck on him to keep your hold.

"Listen carefully, _____. I need to fuck your mouth, nymph." He said, panting, trying to control himself. "Can I put my hands in your hair? Is it okay if I stroke in?" He asked, worried.

You just nodded. "I want that, Tae. Just use me." You pleaded, caressing his erection, placing small kisses on the thick underside. 

"Good. I just thought it was good to warn you. And make sure that you like that, doll." He combed your hair. "Now let's get it, sweetheart."

He showed no mercy. The moment you sucked his tip past your lips, he started pushing in with short, quick jabs. However, when he saw you getting more and more of him inside, he lost all semblance of control. 

In the meanwhile you had lost any sensation apart from those coming from your mouth, almost forgetting the toy inside you, of which you were reminded the moment he started thrusting so hard that your whole body began to roll back and forth. 

He groaned before murmuring deeply, "I'm gonna cum." At that he zoned out, going completely silent, his thrusts getting sloppy before he spilled into you with a long, raspy hum.

You welcomed his taste in your mouth, as he fussed, whimpering ‘don't swallow’. His first spurt was already down your throat but you focused on the second, the third, the last one a weak series of drops. He stayed still a few second and you admired his form: lush ringlets of hair sticking to his forehead, head tipped back as he filled his lungs hungrily before huffing out, his breathing pattern quick and heavy. His lashes fluttered and his brows knitted together every few second as he tried to get a grip on himself. He licked his lips, which had grown too dry with all the panting, his eyes finally opening and focusing on you. 

You slowly pulled him out of your mouth. 

"Lemme see." He growled. 

You knew what he meant. 

"Such a little nymph." He praised you, and you felt your inner walls flutter at that, moving the toy inside you. 

"Do you want to swallow it? Drink me?" He asked with a condescending tone. 

You nodded, trying not to spill his release from your tongue. 

"Do it." 

Eagerly, you did, the gulping sound almost too loud in the quiet room. 

"Show me." He said, just as you parted your lips to do just that, assuring him that not a drop had gone to waste. 

"Come here, doll. Keep the toy inside.” He grumbled, lowering himself to put on his boxers, coming close to you and kissing the top of your hair in the process.

Biting your lip, you stood up, quickly propping one knee on the sofa and straddling him, one hand gripping the base of the dildo. 

“Tae.” You whispered. 

He kissed your lips delicately, simply pressing his lips to yours. “Want me to do it?” He asked. 

You nodded. 

He caught your hand on your crotch and substituted it with his, the other one grabbing your ass. “Can I move?”

You nodded, “I just need hard and fast, please.”

Taehyung grinned, kissing your forehead as you lowered your head, looking at his veiny forearm starting to pump the toy inside. “Is it good like this—”

“Faster!” You exclaimed, your hand tugging at the hair of his nape. 

In response he placed his lips on your cheek, nibbling at your soft skin. He hammered the toy inside you, teasing you on how nasty, kinky and absolutely divine you were, how incredible you looked, how much he wanted you to cum, how he was going to destroy you the moment he’d get to be inside you. 

You felt on the very edge of pleasure, the sensation so disturbing since you felt like something was missing. 

“Tae?” You asked with a whiny voice. 

He slowed down, trying to let you focus on talking“What is it, doll?” He huffed gently.

“I need to touch myself.” You said with a pout. 

He nodded and bent to your mouth. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.”

He kept his pattern slow, trying to adapt it to your fingers on your clit. He synced up so nicely that you managed to rub yourself for maybe a minute before the tip of the toy reached the perfect depth, making you come apart in Taehyung’s hold. 

“That’s lovely, doll. Lovely.” He whispered in your ear, speaking sweet nothings that you couldn’t quite register from your fucked out state. 

After a couple minutes you managed to go back to reality. “Are you okay, Tae?” You asked. 

“I should be asking that. You moaned your lungs out, doll.” He kissed your lips, bringing your wrist up from your mound to his mouth, smearing his lower lip with your wetness before licking it sinfully. 

“Kim Taehyung.” You said in warning and exasperation. 

He looked at you wide eyed, playing innocent. “I believe you earned me as your sleeping buddy tonight.” He joked. 

“Indeed.” You said, wincing a little as he extracted the dildo. 

“Are you sure it’s okay, you’re okay?” He asked. 

You simply nodded. “Let’s just head to bed. It’s four thirty. I’ve got work tomorrow morning.” You explained. 

“Can we have have breakfast or will you have to rush out?” He asked, already in tiger cub mode. 

Your body deflated in desperation over your lost sleep but you smiled gladly when you looked up at him. “I’ll be happy to wake up early and have breakfast.”

Cleaning up was a bit messy, especially finding sleeping clothes for Taehyung, still you managed to hit the bed at five am, Taehyung managing to stay in his lane for maybe five minutes before cuddling up against you and falling asleep like a toddler. 

Of course your head tried to process how you felt about the whole event, but your exhausted body and his gentle embrace cradled you to sleep. 

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see. 

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

**** 

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job. 

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills. 

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning. 

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.” 

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it. 

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers. 

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker. 

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around. 

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head. 

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office. 

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit. 

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand. 

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick. 

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning. 

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.” 

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift. 

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it. 

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out. 

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster. 

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest. 

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen. 

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified. 

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard. 

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands. 

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut. 

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,” 

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing. 

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done. 

You killed her. 

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you. 

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?” 

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie. 

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great. 

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life. 

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins. 

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed. 

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room. 

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship. 

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own. 

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try. 

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.” 

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face. 

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today. 

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ. 

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of. 

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera. 

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough. 

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked. 

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you. 

“What?” 

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.” 

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew. 

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did. 

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had. 

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career. 

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer. 

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine. 

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground. 

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out. 

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner. 

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with. 

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps. 

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him. 

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there. 

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

[tipsydipsydo]

The hands of a sinner 🔥 [M]

Pairing: Dom! Jungkook x Sub! Reader

Gender of the Reader: male

(The Version of this Idea with a female reader could be found here!)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Filthy Language; even filthier is the Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Themes; Hand Kink + Tattoo Kink = Jungkook Hand Tattoos(!!!); Petnames (like Babyboy, little Prince etc.); Daddy-Kink; a freaking lot of teasing; Jungkook is the biggest tease in the international history (he's literally Satan!); Handjob; Cockmilking; kind of a Cum-Kink by Kookie (?); different mentions of Blowjobs

A/N: Just realize how damn sexy his hand tattoos are... even when I don't have usually a really big (kinky) thing for Tattoos, especially not on Hands! But... it's Jungkook. That should be explaination enough!

[Info]: Well... I’m pretty embarrassed and I’m so sorry (really hunny!!) to forgot where I got the inspiration from and WHICH LITTLE DEVIL AWAKE THIS DEEP DESIRE AND THIS KINK IN ME! IT WAS @sugarly-laysa​!!! (I think “I didn’t want to remember it” because your Scenario turned me way too much on... Take this poor excuse as a compliment Sweetheart xD 💕)

Well, you can find the inspiration material aka the work of a very talented devil here! (be aware, it’s a scenario for female! Readers, I just customised my own fic for male! Readers too ;D)

Summary: Since Jungkook got his hand tattoos, you've found out that they have a stronger effect on you than you would like it. You also have good reasons not to tell him that you are developing a kink for his tattoos. And exactly these reasons getting confirmed...

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

"Hm, Baby? Why didn't you tell me that you like my tattoos that much?" Jungkook whispers in an teasing tone and laughs softly as you gasp for a breath and observe his calm right hand on your thigh like you're hypnotized, only his thumb draws small circles on your clothed skin. A gesture that's supposed to "calm you down", but it does the exact opposite, causes that your breathing only gets quicker and you have to bite your lower lip in order not to let the whimpering, that is in your throat, comes over your lips.

You really can't remember how you got into this situation right now... but it has something to do with your intense stare at Jungkook's tattooed right hand. Perhaps also with the dirty thoughts that you had in your mind right at that moment and maybe caused that your cheeks had turned bright red without you noticing.

In any case, you are now with your back to the head of your bed, a Jungkook who's kneeling above you with a knowing smirk and this damn hand, which has put so many indecent thoughts in your head, is laying on your thigh and is just waiting for it to ruin you.

"T-This here was the reason! I k-knew you would tease the shit out of me and wouldn't let me live with it anymore!", you reply with a trembling voice and press your lips together to let these sinful moans and whimpers where they belongs to. In your mouth, and not to let them come over your lips and thus give Jungkook the pure satisfaction and complacency!

But Jungkook knows you, knows how to interpret your facial expressions all too well, especially in situations like this, and he also knows all your other soft spots, which is why it really doesn't help to resist his charm. To your displeasure, you already know that you can't stand it for a longer time anymore.

His hand, exactly this very dangerous hand with all the seductive tattoos, is no longer just lying still on your leg, now it's sliding up your thigh. Slips cheekily under the waistband of your sweats and wander extremely slowly into the direction of the center between your legs. You involuntarily hold your breath, longingly expect that his hand will lie on your clothed bulge that already arised under your boxer briefs or maybe even let his hand slip into them. But his hand stops at the top of your bare thigh, so that a frustrated whimper leaves your mouth.

"After such a long period of abstinence so damn needy, Babyboy? If you had said earlier what I should do with this hand, you would have cum countless times with the help of this hand, my little Prince~", Jungkook whispers with a husky voice into your ear and chuckles at the end of the sentence again. A hot shiver chases down your spine as your boyfriend grabs your earlobe between his teeth and gently tuck on it, before he lets his lips wander down and spread hot kisses on your neck, sucks on your soft skin here and there and leave dark marks.

Meanwhile, your own desire rises immeasurably, little moans leaves your lips, you close your eyes and buck your hips helplessly and desperately up, in the hope that Jungkook will finally let his hand wander into the area where you need him the most. You can't get that damn last sentence out of your head. Then you would've come countless times with the help of this hand.

Fuck, how many times have you imagined how Jungkook could give you a handjob with this hand, with those damn sexy tattoos on the back of his hand and on his knuckles. These deliciously long fingers wrapped around your rock hard, precum leaking cock.

A high moan leaves your throat when suddenly the tips of the fingers of this specific hand caress and tease your clothed bulge, let the tip of his index finger travel around your erection. A deep growl can be heard from Jungkook.

"Fuck! Baby, already so hard? Already so damn ready to get your cock in Daddy's Hand? Getting jacked off by Daddy's Hand full of tattoos? Babyboy, I wanna see that expression of the emoji on my middle finger when I'm torturing the crown of your dick with these fingers and gonna make you cum for me~"

His dirty talk shoots directly into your abdomen, makes this ball of pure pleasure bigger and bigger and therefore makes you more and more restless and needy. "Please...", runs from your lips. You can no longer withstand his touches, his words and certainly not his fantasies about what he wants to do with you. Damn Jungkook!

"Please what? You have to say what you want in proper sentences, my sweetest honeyboy~"

Your cheeks turns into a deeper shade of red than they already are. "P-Please take me finally into your hand! I want you to wrap your hand around my h-hard cock, jack me off and let me cum on your hand... please!"

You whimper and buck your pelvis into his palm, to find some friction and with it, some relief. Jungkook suck sharply a breath in.

"Fuck, you want that? You want me to jerk you off until you shoot your load of cum over my tattoos?" A loud whine fills the room, you furrow your eyebrows together and nod violently, rubbing yourself against Jungkook's hand. "Yes, yes, yes Daddy! I-I wanna cum all over your tattoos and make them all dirty! Please let me cum on your hand!"

Some curses comes out of Jungkook's mouth, suddenly his hand is gone from the hot center between your legs, making you groan out of frustration.

But this tone of your voice changes very quickly into a surprised one, turns the frustrated groan into a squeak, since Jungkook pulls with two rough yanks at first the pair of grey sweats and then your boxer briefs down, that already has a dark stain of precum in the fabric.

Now your lower half is completely exposed in front of him and instinctively you want to put your hands over your almost painfully hard erection. But Jungkook is faster.

"Nuh, nuh, nuh! Not so shy, my darling! You just begged me to milk that cock of yours dry only a few minutes ago~", he growls with an unreadable devilish smile on his lips and grabs with both hands your wrists and pull your own hands gently, but still determinant from your crotch away.

Licks his lips at the sight of your rock hard dick, tip is angry red and glistening full of precum. He smirks at you arrogantly, but this kind of arrogance that only let your cock twitch even more.

To prevent you from covering your delicious hard cock again and closing your legs, he gives you in a steel hard tone the instruction to behave and then places himself between your legs, sits on his calves. Spreads his own legs, on which your own legs are laid, a little bit more, so that you're now completely exposed and lying open in front of him. Your dick jerk at bit at Jungkook's intense stare and your balls are tightly snacked up to your body, seems to be full of all this delicious cum your Daddy loves to swallow when he sucks you off.

With his left hand he supports himself on the headboard and now let his right hand slides down of the inside of your left thigh, until his palm lies on your pubic bone and his thumb gently massages with small circles over the base of your erection.

Whimpering, you're moving forward with your hips, looking for more friction, for touching, just for more! "Please, Kook! Don't tease me!"

"But it's so hot to tease you... to make my stubborn babyboy all whiny just for me~" You're about to start begging for real to get finally jerked off by him, but in that moment he moves his hand down and wrap his hand around the thick length of your dick and squeeze it gently, knows too well how you just like it. Loves it.

But before he finally going to fulfill this wish of yours, it's still too interesting to see how you react to other plays of his fingers. Like how you flinch and what cute moans he's able to elict from your lips when he rubs the pads of his fingertips over the soft skin of your balls and your perineum.

"D-Daddy, please! I-I need your fingers, your tongue, just something! I need something of you around my cock, p-please!", you beg.

Your hands grabs at Jungkook's wrist, you think about to lead his hand back to your aching dick by yourself.

"So greedy, such a greedy and naughty boy I have here! To be honest, you should get a punishment for your impatient behavior, but this cock of yours looks so beautiful, so wet and messy just for me... I think I could get over it. But don't think I'll go down easy on you!", he wispers into your ear, when his fingers finds finally his way back to your hurting erection.

A moan full of relief left your lips and out of primal sexual instinct and need you're bucking your hips up, so his fist is rubbing over your length without Jungkook's intention.

"My Babyboy's cock is so needy and eager to have tattoed fingers wrapped around itself? So desperate, such a desperate and naughty little Prince I have here...", he groans in a deep voice.

"What about I'll let my thumb slide over your leaking tip? That angry red tip that just screams to get finally touched by me~"

As he is saying this, the pad of his thumb graze over the exact right spot of the crown of your dick and before you realize it, his fist moves up and down your length in a raging pace, almost violently. But in such a good way that it makes you scream. Massages all the perfect spots of your cock just in the right way, teasing your tip with every stroke, that let you see stars and your desire to grow infinitely.

"Baby, look! Look down on yourself! Look, how my hand full of tattoos jacking you off , how good your cock looks with my hand wrapped around ypu and what kind of a mess you already have here between your legs. I'm gonna ruin you so bad baby~"

As your eyes wander down between your legs, it feels like getting a punch of pleasure straight into your abdomen. He wasn't lying, not at all. It's so damn hot to see his tattooed hand between your thighs, fisting your cock, almost milking the cum out of your dick, thanks to his prutal pace of his handjob. The precum and the saliva he used to make your cock wonderful slidable for his torturing, are making lewd fapping sounds. The knot in your belly, full of lust, is getting bigger and bigger and is not far from bursting. Sounds come from your throat that you don't even know from yourself. And Jungkook also knows that you are not far from cumming.

"Hm? My little naughty Baby is already about to cum? So fast, just from a bit cockmilking? Just because you see Daddy's tattoed hand in a fist around that needy cock of yours? Wanna cum, Babyboy? Wanna cum all over Daddy's Hand, making Daddy's Tattoos all dirty by his Babyboy's white creamy cum? Being a dirty little Prince and make Daddy's Hand all messy from your seeds? Being a naughty and filthy Baby just for me and blow your load on my Hand?~ "

"Oh my God Jungkook! Oh my god, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"Come for me, Sweetie! Be a naughty Boy for Daddy and shoot your cum all over my hand~"

You only need two more strokes of his hand to spread all your cum over his hand and whining and sobbing out of pleasure and oversensitivity.

The movements of Jungkook's hand slows down and massaging your trembling and shaking legs gently with his other hand to give you some time to find yourself again. But your eyes snaps open, when you hear Jungkook unbuckles the belt of his jeans.

"Jungkook wha-"

"Well Baby, seeing you cumming on my hand was pretty hot and my own cock agrees to that. I think my Honeyboy could give me something back in return... how about a Blowjob while I lead your pretty head with exactly this hand here?", says Jungkook with a smile of satan on his lips and licking completely satiesfied your cum off the fingers of his right, tattoed hand.

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[mulderist]

DEVIL AT MY DOORSTEP

Post-Orison Hurt/comfort || MSR, UST || Scully POV || Moderate violence || AO3 link

A/N: This fic was originally written way back in 2001 when I was in college. It was my first post-episode fic and I posted it to FF.net back in the day. I unearthed it 3 years ago and gave it some extremely heavy edits because it’s that ridiculous and dramatic (lol). I then nervously posted the revised version to AO3.

@today-in-fic

"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here," Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out. Mulder noticed the book. "You can't judge yourself," he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.

"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.

"The Bible allows for vengeance."

"But the law doesn't."

"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that, in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."

"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of," I said softly.

"What's that?"

"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me - what made me pull the trigger?"

"You mean if it was God?"

"I mean - what if it wasn't?" There was a beat of silence and I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand gently slide across my upper back. I looked up at him and could see the concern written on his face.

"I'll finish up out there," he said. Then he moved past me and back towards the bedroom door, pulling it behind him.

I slowly stood and went to my dresser to find some clothes. I tossed an outfit on the bed and stripped off my pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor. As I absentmindedly packed an overnight bag I took a look around my bedroom. The bookcase I had pulled over on Pfaster to slow him down resulted in a disjointed cascade of books and broken trinkets. There were stains of crimson blood, more than likely my own, which dotted the once clean carpet. The thought that blood was shed in my bedroom made me swallow hard. I scanned over my bed to the wall where my mirror once hung. All that remained were jagged pieces of glass and the remnants of the frame. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that had occurred. Then a shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave my room.

The police had finally cleared out leaving an unsettling calm in the apartment. I was grateful Mulder took it upon himself to answer their questions. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. Very faint markings of a chalk outline could still be seen on the floor. I saw Mulder sitting on the end of my couch with his elbows on his knees, hands folded. He rose when he realized I was in the room. I said softly,

"Let's go."

Mulder nodded and followed me out the door, locking it behind us. Once we got outside he took my bag and popped the trunk to place it inside. I took my place in the passenger seat and winced slightly as I reached across to grab the seat belt. My eyelids felt like lead weights and I couldn't help but let them close as I leaned my head back against the headrest. I heard Mulder get in the car and start the engine. He tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment but I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk just yet. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,

"I can put some coffee on." I glanced up at him and nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Sure," he replied, sounding slightly wounded, "It'll be ready once you're done."

Jesus, why are we doing this awkward small talk? He handed me my overnight bag and before I went down the hall I squeezed his hand. After I closed the bathroom door behind me I put my bag on the floor then turned on the water for the shower. As it warmed up I slowly shed my clothes and inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. I turned slightly and saw the initial stages of bruising setting in on my upper back. My naked figure in the mirror was unsettling. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and pulled aside the shower curtain, stepping into the warm waterfall.

Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water began to relax me as it massaged my tired frame. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. I then ran a hand over my wet hair. "Ah, dammit," I hissed. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass hiding at the back of my head. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.

Blood.

Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I flexed and tightened my right hand noticing how awkward and stiff the movement was. Sprain, edema, contusion, hematoma: bland clinical terms I knew all too well. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began working it into a lather. As the suds formed on my arms, I tried to wash away the gritty feeling, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.

Pfaster. His cryptic face clawed its way to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. His was the face of pure evil, a vision of a demon that shook me to my core. When I took the case I tried to prove to myself that it didn't bother me. I had gone through the counseling sessions during and after Minneapolis. Bouts of anxiety would return every once and a while, flashes of terrible things usually triggered after a particularly difficult assignment. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself when I thought I had overcome what happened.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. Water pushed the soapy residue from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the chaos that happened in my apartment. Pfaster was in my home - the devil at my doorstep. I angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some of it into my hand. As I massaged the gel into my hair the familiar scent wound around in the air and my mood softened. Then my thoughts turned to Mulder. He told me not to look any further and I followed his advice. I don't know how he ended up in my living room with his gun drawn, ready to do what I was shockingly more capable of doing. He always managed to find me – to save me. I was still in shock when he rushed over and held me close. I just stood there, motionless, letting my weapon slip from my fingers. Every time I ended up in his arms I had this overwhelming feeling that I'm safe and it's a sensation I never want to lose. As I rinsed my hair I did what I feared most.

I lost control.

The water felt tepid as it mixed with the scalding tears in my eyes. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Oh God I thought. Everything was rushing at me too fast; horrible sounds and smells returned shocking my senses. I lost the comforting warmth that had enveloped me. Stability failed and I placed my left hand against the cool tile wall. My knees softened and with a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. My shoulders lurched as I sobbed and I moved my hip closer to the wall for support. Water raced down my bruised back. My arms slid across my stomach and I held on, trying to shield myself from the terrible thoughts flashing in my mind. I leaned a shoulder into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.

"Mulder…"

I didn't realize I had said it aloud. It's not the first time I've called out to him but it felt different as I stood in his shower. I needed to say his name. I needed to know he was on the other side of that door. I needed to allow myself this one fleeting moment of vulnerability and begin to accept the unacceptable. As my sobs slowed one was caught in my throat. I hated how I sounded when I was upset and more often than not tried desperately to express sorrow in silence. Over the roar of the water I exhaled deeply and wiped my eyes. My hands found their way to my shoulders once again and I breathed in the last few clouds of steam. Then I turned off the faucet, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped out onto the waiting bathmat. I pulled a towel off the hook and gently dried off, finding comfort in that familiar scent once again.

I got dressed and combed my hair then walked out to Mulder's living room. There was a lone mug on the coffee table. I happened upon him lying down on the couch, eyes closed. I moved closer and noticed that his brow was furrowed. I touched his shoulder causing him to stir.

"Mmm, sorry I must have dozed off. Did the shower help? " he said while he sat upright and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a little more human." I joined him in the space he had cleared. He stretched then reached for the mug and took a long swallow. I leaned back against the couch.

"I can pour you a cup if you'd like," I heard him say. My fingers began to fiddle with a tender spot on my left hand.

"No thanks." I know Mulder could tell I had been crying, puffiness under the eyes was not easy to conceal. I could feel my cheeks flush and I licked my lips as I searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm still having difficulty finding the words right now and I can't stand this awkward small talk."

He shook his head after swallowing a sip of coffee. "You know I can see it on your face. And this awkward small talk wouldn't be so awkward if you would just let me in. It's like I told you earlier, I've never seen something give you this much of a head trip before."

"I have to be able to accept this on my own terms, Mulder." That tasted bitter. "I've been trying to forget for five years. I just can't do this right now." I got off the couch and started to head for his bedroom. After pushing the door slightly behind me, I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and felt the smoothness against my skin. Every muscle in my body struggled to unwind. Before I closed my eyes I noticed a shadow move in front of the door.

"I'll be fine." I muttered under my breath.

The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.

I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore and I could taste blood. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands were bound behind my back and my bare feet were tied together. I weakly struggled to shift positions, fighting the pain in my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack underneath the door. Where the hell am I? I couldn't see anything in the room aside from the hardwood floor. I attempted to sit back up and tried to figure out how I got here. Adrenaline had kicked in now and I started thinking of a way to escape. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. I looked at the figure in the doorway and it didn't look human. The figure bent down, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me on the floor out of the closet into the empty room. I writhed and twisted in its grip. A dim light from somewhere else in the dilapidated house illuminated the figure just enough so I could distinguish human hands as they removed the tie from my ankles. The man reached over and forcefully pulled me up by my shoulders to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second as I stood and in that moment I felt malevolence swarm over my body. His pushed me in front of him and a smile snaked across his lips.

His hand roughly clung to my bare shoulder as he shoved me down a hallway. Everything in the sparsely lit house looked the same, bare and unremarkable. There was a warm glow coming from one of the rooms on the left and he led me in that direction. It was a master bedroom. Once inside I was shoved towards the bathroom. I saw an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. There was a double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it with a towel bar hanging low over the tank. Candles covered just about every surface to provide mood lighting for whatever diabolical plans he had in mind. He moved me over to the sink and untied my hands for a moment, only to tie them to the towel bar. I saw the horrible smirk form on his face as he stepped back to look at his work.

"It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. My mind yelled at me to escape. I pulled violently at the bar, foolishly hoping that I could pull it off the wall and run. Then I leaned my head down to meet my hands and try to loosen the gag. As I feverishly worked I heard a thud from the other room. I stopped for just a second and listened and to my horror I saw the man pull Mulder's body into the doorway and toss him on the floor.

No!

"Mulder! What have you done to him?!" I yelled against the gag. The man lunged at me and struck me across the face. Then he snatched my jaw and pressed the flat side of a knife against my cheek.

"Don't worry Girly-Girl. I have plans for him too." I fought the tears welling in my eyes. He moved away from me and went toward the bathtub, reaching for the faucet to turn on the water. I tried to free my hands from the towel bar while he was distracted. My fingers squeezed together and with a tug I was loose then I quickly removed the cloth from around my mouth. I looked out into the other room and saw Mulder stir but just as I did Pfaster noticed I had gotten one step closer to escape and took measures to slow me down. With a flash of metal his knife came quickly across my right hand. I tried to grab it; tried to disarm him for even a moment. He caught my arm and plunged the blade in-between my ribs. I screamed. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I took all the strength I could muster and kicked Pfaster in the gut sending him back towards the bathtub. I cried out over the roar of the water and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. I started to crawl in a prone position to the door and out into the bedroom, blood soaking rapidly through my tank top. I had to get to Mulder. He was lying face down on the floor and I could tell he was injured or God knows what else.

"S-Scully.." he muttered as he lifted his head revealing a gash on his cheek. My injured hand reached out for his, finding his fingertips and holding as tight as I could.

"Mulder, please…" I pleaded. "I need you to get up. I can't –" Pfaster was on his feet now. He turned around sharply and quickly ran out to seize my leg. I kicked him in the shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction. I cried out for Mulder as I was dragged back into the bathroom. Pfaster brought my arms above my head and held them together while straddling me. My right arm went numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed.

"You know," he began once he caught his breath, "I didn't think I'd finally catch the one that got away. That red hair never left my mind. I wasn't going to stop until I found you." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and yanked me up off the floor. I could barely fight against him and that's what frightened me the most. I was running out of time. Still with a grip on my shoulders he turned off the water to the bathtub.

"Let her go, Pfaster," said Mulder from the doorway, his voice sounded dark. Pfaster pressed a hand over my mouth before I could put a voice to my suffering. The taste on my lips was nauseating.

"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. Then he dropped me in the tub, holding me under. I kicked and thrashed as hard as I could but I was growing weaker. I heard Mulder yell.

Two shots rang out.

The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. I could feel my body shutting down. All of my energy started to fade and I physically couldn't struggle anymore. I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. The lights from the remaining candles flickered back and forth across the walls.

My life started to slip away.

Then I saw Mulder's face above me as he climbed into the tub. He reached in and quickly picked me up from under my arms then shifted my weight so he could slide his right arm under my knees. As he lifted my limp wounded body out of the bathtub I closed my eyes and heard him say "I'm sorry, Scully. God I'm so sorry." He carried me out of the bathroom, leaving the body of Donnie Pfaster behind.

Mulder knelt down with me on the floor of the barren bedroom, holding me tight in his arms. I coughed and sputtered, expelling the bathwater. He pulled out his cell phone and I knew he was calling for an ambulance. "Yes this Agent Mulder with the FBI, I have an agent down!" He gave some more information then tossed the phone aside. One hand pressed firmly on my side, adding compression to the oozing stab wound. "Help is on the way. Just hang on." My eyelids fluttered and I said his name.

"Scully, talk to me. Come on."

"What happened to you?" I asked weakly.

"That bastard cold-cocked me once I made it upstairs. He must have already had you tied-up in the bathroom. God, I should have shot him as soon as I saw him."

"I can't Mulder…" I said with a shiver.

"No. No. You have to stay with me, Scully" he said with a wavering voice.

"I can't feel …I don't…I'm sorry," My words were nonsensical as I tried to focus on him. My fingers grazed his shirt before I lost consciousness.

Mulder began CPR.

His lips felt so warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I felt the wetness of his cheek as he leaned in to deliver each breath. I was so numb I barely felt the chest compressions. His hands were soaked in my blood. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after he gave two more sets of compressions and saw no change.

"Dammit Scully, come on! You can't leave me!" I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure was gone as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder choked out a sob as he clutched me to his chest. He rocked back and forth then let out a primal, gut-wrenching scream.

A siren was heard howling down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics flung open the door to the house and called in inside. It didn't take them long to find us. They rushed in and took me from Mulder so they could begin their work. He slid back a little and sat with his head in his hands. The EMTs readied the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics cut open my shirt and stuck pads on my bare chest to prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,

"Clear!"

I cried out and woke with a start; my hands pushed me into an awkward upright position on the bed. Disoriented at first and head spinning, I started to piece together where I was. The layout of the room became more familiar as my senses came into focus with the morning light. My weight shifted to my left elbow and as I rubbed my eyes I heard the bedroom door open, Mulder said my name as he entered. I sat up and he joined me on the bed. The wave of tension broke and quickly I leaned forward to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly, feeling my lip start to tremble as I pulled him closer. I felt like a child that needed to be consoled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"I was in a house, like when I was taken before." My throat felt dry causing my voice to falter. "Pfaster dragged me into a room lined with candles and was intent on finishing what he started. You were there too but you couldn't - There was so much blood, Mulder," I pulled away from him and drew in a breath to try and regain some sense of composure. "It all just felt so real. " I shook my head and ran a hand over my hair leaving it to rest behind my neck. We sat there for a moment, no words between us. At one point he tenderly kissed the top of my head. Finally he said,

"I was hesitant to tell you, but I heard that song as I was getting ready for bed last night."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he looked down and motioned to take my hand, "I tried to call you but you didn't pick up. I guess you could call it divine intervention."

"That was playing in my apartment. He was playing that damn song…" Mulder leaned in and embraced me.

This time I buried my head in his chest and unwillingly started to hear the opening notes of the song fade in once again. My eyes closed and my hands pressed harder against Mulder's back, pulling him closer.

With those phantom tones I was replaying what had happened mere hours ago. The panic of knowing Pfaster was in my home, the anger that drove each blow I threw at him, the fear when he had me pinned down and screaming out for help.

Don't let go.

The tempo sent me reeling back to Minneapolis. That house. That closet. The feel of the rope around my wrists. Falling down those stairs and feeling paralyzed by fear. What was going to happen to me? Would I ever see Mulder again?

Hold on to me.

The rhythm began to fade and I felt the mist in my eyes. I pushed back for a brief moment and looked at Mulder as he brushed away tear that found its way to my cheek.

"Stay with me," I whispered. He nodded and I moved over, allowing him to slip into bed alongside me.

"It's alright. I'm here." He kissed the nape of my neck knowing there wasn't much else he could do but hold me. And that's all I really wanted him to do. At that point I didn't care that I had broken down. I had never wanted him closer to me than in that moment.

I was so tired. My body ached and eventually my sobs began to subside. The air was no longer caught in my throat. I began to listen to the cadence of Mulder's breath and I wasn't sure if he was still awake. My inhale met with his. Once he noticed my breathing began to slow he slid his hand from under mine. Fingertips found a strand of hair and placed it behind my ear. I could feel the sunlight coming through the bedroom window.

"Thank you," I uttered, my voice raspy and heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest. I'm not going anywhere." I struggled to shift positions and turned over to face him. My hand found his cheek and I moved closer, sharing his breath. The hint of smile tugged at his mouth. Ever so slightly my lips parted and I felt warmth as his lips met mine. Soft and tender.

At last I was able to begin to forget.

[bothcreativitybois]

(reposted because I posted on wrong account)

As for my other gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange this one is for @snekky-boi and actually my first fic I’ve ever posted.

SANDERS SECURITY

“Clearance?” A gruff security guard in a suit asked the person in front of him. They pulled out a card and handed it to the guard. In the picture the mysterious person was wearing the same dark suit and shirt with an orange tie. Slight stubble spread across their face which was thicker now. Next to the picture was his identity.

Joan [REDACTED]

Head Representative of Sanders Security

Joan looked through their car window and slipped his sunglasses down slightly to stare at the guard.

“We have a problem?” They said smoothly. They were an important person and did not have time for these delays. The guard hurriedly handed back the card, scared of the person who owned it.

“None at all.” The guard hit a button and the gates ahead opened. “Go on through, sir.”

“Don’t call me that.” Joan responded, not looking at the guard.

“Ah… sorry. What should I call you?” The guard was terrified. He’d heard of this person a lot. A mysterious person in an orange tie working for a security company whose guards were never seen, but they still managed to be one of the best in the world. Worse, no one knows how to contact them. They just show up.

“Nothing, I wasn’t here.” The car drove away. Suddenly the guard couldn’t remember who was in it. But it was too late to stop it.

Joan pulled up to the door of the large mansion. They stepped out and adjusted their suit. They had a large metal briefcase with them. A frantic secretary ran up as they locked their car.

“Exactly on time.” The lady said.

“Always am.” Joan started walking towards the doors of the house. The secretary rushed to follow.

“I am--”

“I don’t care.” Joan waved off the lady. She opened the door for them and they entered a large room with ornate staircases and beautiful tiles. A large glass chandelier hung above them and security guards in suits stood at random points around the place. Joan took off their sunglasses.

“Let me take you to--” The secretary tried again but didn’t get anywhere.

“No need.” Joan said as they tucked the sunglasses into their suit pocket. “I know what I’m doing.” Joan strode away with that. They made their way up the steps and entered the first door they went up to without so much as knocking. Inside, a man sat at a large wooden desk with bookshelves lining the wall behind him. The man's neat brown hair matched the colour of the desk. He stood as he saw the door opening, pressing down his dark blue suit.

“Ah Joan.” The man greeted. “I trust Doris showed you up.”

“No, I don’t need a babysitter.” Joan strode forward and stood in front of the desk.

“Well… take a seat.” The man sat back down in his chair. Joan continued to stand and placed his briefcase on the desk.

“No. I won’t be here long, Thomas.” Joan stated numbly. Thomas just stared in awe of the person in front of him. He was contacted yesterday saying that a representative from a company he’d only heard whispers of would be visiting him. And lo and behold here they were, right on time. He didn’t know why but they were.

“Well then…” Thomas was lost as to how to navigate this situation. “...let’s start.”

Joan clicked open their suitcase.

“Sir, someone wants you gone and we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Joan began.

“I already have plenty of guards; I don’t see how yours would do anything that they can’t.” Thomas interrupted. Joan smirked.

“You’re an important man with money in many places. Surely you have access to the files saying why our team could take down a hundred of yours.” Joan took out a few files. They expected a response from Thomas but he only shrugged. Joan put the files back down. “Our team isn't just men, sir. They’re more than that. We have collected them from instances all over the world and trained them to be more. They’re living government funded weapons. They have abilities you only see in movies and comics. These are living superheroes, and we have them at our disposal… and now yours too.” Joan explained. Thomas laughed. He was convinced he had let a crazy person into his house.

“You have superheroes?” He teased. “Is it expensive buying so much spandex for all the outfits?” Thomas continued to laugh but Joan just stood patiently. Joan picked up a file and dropped it in front of the laughing man. Photos of security footage fell out. Thomas stopped laughing.

“These are of them training. It isn’t edited.” Joan let him know. Thomas picked up the pictures and looked at them closely. Men in dark clothes fought with all kinds of methods. Weapons he’d never seen, blurry flashes of light, things he didn’t even know. He looked up at the person giving him this presentation. “Shall I continue?” Joan asked.

“Yes. Of course.” Thomas replied dumbly. He suddenly knew why this company was such a mystery.

“Each member of our team lives at our facility. They train for nine hours a day, are provided with nutritional meals and top healthcare, and are completely obedient to every command. They’ve trained as a team for years now and even without their, as we call ‘extravagant abilities’, would be able to protect you better than any other team you’ll find.” Joan picked up some more files from the briefcase. “But thankfully they do have these abilities, which makes them all the more better.”

“You officially have my interest. Tell me what they can do.” Thomas asserted. Joan threw a file in front of him on top of the first.. Thomas opened it. There was a portrait of a young boy, he had long blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun. One of his eyes was green and the other was brown, but most noticeably he had dark green scales running down the left half of his face. He was smiling slightly allowing a small fang to be seen.

“Janus, 19. Codename: Deceit. One of our first. He was trained to fight from the moment he could stand. We picked him up after he was born with those things all over him. We call them ‘shifter scales’, he has them all over his body and they allow him to completely change his appearance. He can be a different person or blend into a background. He can even change his hair but we haven’t worked out the why on that one yet. Only thing he can’t change is his eyes and teeth. This bitch also has a silver tongue like you wouldn’t believe; can talk his way to anything and if that doesn’t work he lies his way in.” Joan explains as Thomas shifts through the pictures. There's a few showing the scales and others are of him fighting. In one of the pictures he has scales on his back raised like a scared cat does with it’s fur.

“Sounds troublesome…” Thomas remarks.

“Not when he is as loyal as we’ve trained him to be.” Joan responds. They throw down another file. Thomas opens it. The portrait has a pale woman with thin eyes, she smiles widely for the camera and dimples can be seen on her cheeks. Her shoulders look broad, she looks much bigger than Janus and probably older too. Her hair is cut short and neat.

“Patton, 36. Codename: Puffball. After we discovered her she turned herself to us willingly, she said she was tired of everyone worrying about keeping her secret. She was living as a single mother with a son now in the custody of his father. She has extreme strength, we have seen her throw a car like it's a basketball. She’s extremely fit, we’re yet to find her limit. She also has an above average pain tolerance and takes a bullet without flinching, she also tends to completely heal from anything within a day. Patton worked as a paramedic before she came to us so she has a good medical knowledge. She’s a full on tank, she can take any hit and will return one much worse.”

“Reminds me of my mother.” Thomas laughed slightly.

“She has taken up a maternal role for the team. She’s quite a happy person. A delight to be around really.” Joan’s tough facade didn’t break. Thomas sifted through the pictures, most being of Patton lifting heavy objects or piles of weights. She was smiling in all of them. Joan dropped another file then took more from their briefcase. There were two portraits inside, two men who looked identical. Thomas wasn’t sure if it was just the same man twice but they were labeled with different names. Their skin was a similar colour to terracotta, their curly hair was warm chocolate colour and they both had hazy green eyes. Their features were very sharp.

“The twins, Roman and Remus, 22. Codenames: Prince and Duke.”

“How do you tell them apart?” Thomas asked. He barely could and each picture marked which one was which. Joan laughed hollowly.

“You don’t. They kept getting expelled from schools for bringing weapons but the parents insisted they had none and each time the house was searched it was proved they didn’t. Turns out the twins were summoning the weapons. We got them before anyone else figured this out. We’ve trained them since they were kids. They seem to be able to summon any non explosive weapons from any time period and master it within a matter of days. Ever watched someone take out an attacker with a rifle with a trident? It’s a sight to behold. Remus tends towards bigger and blunter weapons while Roman preferes something more elegant and quick. They also seem to have a telepathic link but we’re unsure if they can extend this to other people.”

“Can they summon guns for my team?” Thomas asked. Joan rolled his eyes, he got this question every time.

“They can’t summon guns or other explosives. Even if they could they can only summon the weapon and not ammunition. We know this from them using things like bows and slingshots.” Joan explained. The pictures on the desk were all of the boys fighting each other with various weapons. Joan threw down another file.

“How many are there?” Thomas exclaimed. Joan stayed quiet. The portrait in the new file was a man with a stern expression. Thomas could see a tattoo etched into the pink skin, the ink just poking out of the edge of the man's shirt. His blue eyes were framed by round black wire glasses.

“Logan, 32. Codename: Teach. Logan was a uni student who was living alone. He dropped out of classes suddenly after he developed some kind of power. He went to the hospital to get a brain scan to check he wasn’t mentally ill and that’s when we scooped him up. He’s extremely smart and can remember anything he reads but that isn’t his extravagant ability. He controls energy in all its forms. The list of things he can do with it is too long. He’s also taken the unofficial spot of team strategist due to him being the smartest of the group. He’s very closed about what he did before he came to us and his emotions in general but he threw himself into training when he got here. He even helped train the younger ones when they were kids.”

“Why aren’t there pictures of him fighting?” Thomas shifted through many pictures of Logan, none of which he was using his powers in.

“Due to the amount and various kinds of energy he puts out when fighting, pictures tend to get pretty messed up.” Joan pointed to an earlier picture where all that’s visible is a blurry silhouette with a bright light. “That’s the best we got.”

“Doesn't seem like a useless side effect.” Thomas laughed.

“And finally.” Joan announced as he dropped the last file. The portrait was another young man. He had dark skin and darker hair. His eyes were large and sad. He looked expressionless into the camera. “Virgil, 19. Codename: Stormcloud. As a kid he was locked up in a psychiatric hospital because everyone in his life kept being poisoned and dying. Turns out he can actually produce poisonus gasses down to the pure elemental level. Mixes them in his lungs and breathes them out. He can control concentration and kind. Some are purely toxic and others are things like anaesthetics or drugs. He’s also immune to all poisons and drugs because of this. Kid had a rough life and you can see it in the way he fights, he’s like a machine.” The pictures of this kid fighting were insane. Each one he looked like he was about to rip out someone's throat with his teeth. Thomas leaned back in his chair. He made a deep exhale as he processed everything he just learned.

“Your team is more than impressive but there is the matter of price. I’m guessing a team like this would not be cheap.” Joan gathered the files as he began to speak.

“Like I said earlier Thomas, we’re government funded. You don’t pay anything. We show up, protect you until we can get rid of the threat then leave.” Joan explained. Thomas quirked an eyebrow. Nothing in his life was free, there was something.

“Really? Nothing?” Thomas questioned suspiciously. Joan neatly placed the files in his case.

“Well not nothing. You see this team is powerful and it needs to be kept secret. So we do need you to keep us secret, or else.” Joan closed the briefcase with a bang, punctuating his point perfectly.

“Alright. Once I meet the team I’ll look at the contract and get back to you.” Thomas spoke with his heart in his throat. These people were able to kill him without any effort, he would do whatever they wanted. Joan laughed.

“You misunderstand. This wasn’t a sales pitch.” Joan lifted the briefcase off the desk. “I’m letting you know that they’ll be arriving today.”

[autumn-foxfire]

To that anon that was trying to come up with a future where Hawks lives and gets his wings back: I wanted to share a future happy ending scenario I made cause I was also getting pretty depressed (especially bc everyone believes he’s a tragic character destined to die in the story - give he bird a break and stop with the Icarus parallels!), Basically, I can see him becoming the President of a reformed HPSC by the end of the story. (1/8)

We know from Horikoshi that Hawks was made to “fulfill a certain role”, and he’s been interestingly placed in a position where he gets a perspective all sides - the heroes, the villains, the civilians (to an extent), and the government. He’s taken notice of dissatisfaction from members of the PLF and has shown to be empathetic towards their cause as well as Twice (to a logic extent). Despite what some fans may claim, Hawks actually has pretty good judgement. (2/8)

And that’s important going forward. A large part of MHA is the idea of the new generation stepping up and surpassing the old - however, Hawks isn’t that old himself. He still has plenty of room to narratively grow, and eventually taking a leadership position (that none of the 1A kids could take on yet) could help resolve the disconnect he feels between what he is and what he wanted to be. Hawks originally wanted to be a hero that was a “shining light” for others. (3/8)

We know, of course, that didn’t really happen. While Hawks wouldn’t be a hero anymore (I predict he’ll denounce himself as a true hero after this arc, even if others insist that he is), he can still be that shining light - all while working towards his current dream of “making a world where heroes have more free time” in a more grounded and realistic way. And then there are his parallels with Shigaraki - their pasts, desires (freedom), and disillusionment with hero society. (4/8)

It’s possible Hawks is being set up to counter Shigs and Dabi with the narrative idea that it’s possible to change the world for the better despite your terrible past (as opposed to lashing out and destroying everything). As far as how this ending could happen - it’s a slowburn. From Twice’s last words “Die, Hawks”, Hawks the hero persona is most likely going to be crushed, leaving Takami Keigo in a pretty dark place. However, I think Tokoyami, who’s used to darkness, (5/8)

will be the one to get him out of it (surpassing him, in that sense). I can also see some sort of speech scene down the line paralleling his introduction at the Billboard charts. Which - could you imagine him getting into a debate? He would verbally massacre anyone standing against him. Also, the big undisclosed but very apparent “F you” to the current HPSC when he takes over and helps pass quirk tolerance laws, establishing reform programs… (6/8)

Also, Commission President Takami just sounds so nice and fits the whole enlightenment/truth teller kanji thing he has going on. If he doesn’t take that leadership position, I could see it being fulfilled by Aizawa or Endeavor (though considering Hawks is implied to know the ins and outs of the HPSC already, I think he makes the most sense). Lastly, because I love bird bros so much, can you imagine their relationship in the future? (7/8)

I could see Tokoyami taking on Hawks’ old job of working in the shadows to do what’s necessary - only to a less extreme extent and with more consideration for his safety. They could even have a Commissioner Gordon & Batman thing going on in the background, to emphasize those hero parallels. Anyways sorry this got so long! Anyways... thoughts? (8/8)

I’m sorry I’ve been sitting on this gem in my ask box for so long. I’m almost disappointed that you sent it to me instead of making your own post about it (almost because I got a first preview of your idea and how could I be disappointed about that XD)

I can’t stress how much I love this idea. It’s such an interesting direction for him to go and one that hasn’t really been explored by the fandom yet (which I hope will change now that the idea is out there) and I love how it gives a different perspective on Hawks that also suits his goals and ambitions.

Argh, I feel like I can’t even put into words how much I love it T-T All I can say is that if you ever feel up to writing a fic like this, please don’t be afraid to link me because I would love to read it!!

Edit: Sorry I didn’t really add much to your ask T-T

[madasthesea]

I’m sorry for being so mean. I had a really bad day and didn’t mean to say such awful things. But I am frustrated my fics always get ignored, especially by the big names in the fandom such as yourself that claim to support everyone. I’ve written so many fics in this fandom and have been doing so for over a year, yet I only have 30 subscribers. I get really frustrated and feel like I’m a bad writer because everyone ignores me and my fics. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.

(2/2) For a fan community that claims they are inclusive, everyone sure doesn’t act that way. Everyone already has their friends and people like me who don’t have many friends get ignored. The big names in the fandom don’t support or read the fics by the new people. It’s not just me. I’ve never received a single kudo or comment from you or anyone else that’s popular like you. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but people don’t read my fics.

Ok, I’m answering this in the middle of the night in the hopes that not a lot of people will see it so it won’t become A Thing and then as soon as this fic exchange is over I am turning my anons off forever. Anon, I guess I have to give you credit for coming to apologize, but I have to say, where before I was perfectly capable of laughing off your extremely rude message, I have to say, now I’m annoyed. Because there is not a single instance or bad day or frustration that makes what you said acceptable. You came into my inbox and threw a temper tantrum because you knew my name and I happen to have anons on unlike most of the “fandom big names.” You told me I had the worst fics in the fandom, told me I publish outlines instead of stories and accused me of writing incestual pedophilia because you had a bad day? I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re young because that is the only possible excuse I could give you. As I said in my original response, if I were already an anxious writer, you could have caused me to delete all of my fics and put me off of writing forever. Someone commented on your original message and said that they don’t post their writing because of messages like that one. You’re right you shouldn’t have taken it out on me, and you wouldn’t have if your name had been associated with it. But here we are, and I’m going to try to make it so this never happens again, at least with the two of us. 

Now, onward to your frustrations. I am sorry that you aren’t getting the attention you want, but one) yelling at me on anon isn’t going to fix that. Two) not to be like callous and insensitive, but that happens to almost every writer I know. I’ve been writing fanfiction for 12 years. This is the seventh fandom I’ve written for and no one ever read my fics before this. My first year on AO3 I published six stories and had 500 views total. I get the frustration, but sometimes you just have to get the perfect combination of exposure, plot, and interest. Three) Do you have any idea how many stories get published in the Peter Parker & Tony Stark tag a day? I’m sorry, I can’t read all of them. I don’t want to read all of them, in fact I have 14 different tags blacklisted. Just because I am a “big name” does not mean I owe you a comment or a kudos. If I like your story, I will tell you. Chances are, I haven’t even seen one of your stories, because I’m an adult with a job and hobbies and writing of my own to do. Most of the “big names” are the exact same except a lot of them also have school. If you want someone to read your stories, ask them. Say ��hey, I respect you and your opinion, could you look at this for me?” They will probably say yes unless they have a good reason not to. Don’t just sit there and wait for it to happen and get mad when it doesn’t. Also, this is the third time someone has yelled at me for not reading or commenting on their fics and it makes me less inclined to leave kudos in general in case someone comes and gets mad that I read their fic but didn’t comment. So uh… don’t do this again. 

As for the community, do you want to know how to make friends? Send asks (nice ones) not on anon. We can’t interact with you if you don’t know who you are. Reblog our fics. Comment on our posts. You can’t make friends if no one knows you exist. And the only way to show you exist is show yourself in our notes, in our inboxes. Sitting in your corner of tumblr and being bitter isn’t going to help anyone. This fandom is welcoming and it is kind and it is supportive. You saw how many people came to my defense tonight. If you talk to those people, they’ll talk back, but they can’t reach out to every single Irondad blog, it just isn’t feasible. 

And finally, how to get your fics read more. Like I said, part of it is just… luck. I got in at the very beginning, as did losingmymindtonight, parkrstark, several others, and had already established myself before IW came out and the fandom got bigger. Lucky break on my part, but I’m also a good writer because I’m 25 and I have a Master’s in a writing heavy field and I’ve been writing my entire life. Sometimes it just takes practice. But there is stuff that all good fics have in common, so here we go:

1) Good grammar, good spelling, good punctuation.

I don’t know who you are so I have no idea what your writing is like, but this is stuff I had to tell college students as a teacher, so I’m just going to go over it. 

Are there line breaks between every paragraph? No? There need to be. It’s hard to read when all of the words are bunched together, meaning automatic exits will happen, regardless of content.

Do you start a new paragraph every single time a new person speaks? You should.

“When someone is speaking,” I asked, “do you put a comma before the speech tag?” Commas, not periods. Not periods then commas. Punctuation goes inside the quotation marks. 

Are you writing in first or second person (I or you)? Don’t.

Pay attention to your tenses. It is very confusing reading a story that switches tenses every sentence. 

Are you capitalizing the beginning of every sentence and proper noun? You have to. Reading all lowercase takes energy and concentration and readers don’t like to put more effort in than they’re used to. Also it’s just pointless.  

Get a beta reader. Get grammarly (but the free version, don’t pay) or another editing service. Google anything you have a question about. EDIT YOUR WRITING. 

2) New ideas

Every fandom has tropes they love, but not every fic can be a trope fic. Every fic I write is, if not completely new, a spin on a popular trope.

Yes, there are some popular field trip fics, but most of them get lost in the weeds because they are all the same. And most of the people I talk to don’t even like them. (This counts for May dies fics, sensory overload… If you’re going to write it, you have to make it different and you have to make it good.)

Look to other movies or books for ideas, check out irondad-fic-ideas, something. Write something new, something only you can write, and at least some people will notice.

3) Good characterization

Now apparently everything I write is OOC, so maybe I’m not the best person to be giving advice on this :/ (I’m still annoyed. I’m getting over it)

BUT–the best way to write a well-known character is to know the source material. Listen to the way they talk, watch how they move. Ignore fanon. It’s hard, but try. Peter isn’t actually a perpetual ray of sunshine, chatter box 12 year old like we often write him, Tony isn’t 100% sarcasm and incapable of recognizing his own feelings. 

If you can hear the character say it in their actual voice, it’s probably a good line. 

4) Misc.

Fandom rule of thumb: cute fluff and hardcore whump win out over deep character studies on convoluted plot lines. If you’re just looking for hits or maybe a fic to establish yourself, that’s a good way to do it. 

If you’re posting a multi-chapter fic, don’t post it all at once. People will comment on each chapter as you post and you’ll get more hits. 

Respond to comments, especially at the early stages. It makes your readers more invested, it builds friendships, and it makes your stats look better. 

There’s a blog that supports little known writers in this fandom! Rec your fics there!

Make sure to never, ever put “I suck at summaries” or “fic is better than summary” it is an instant turnoff. If you can’t write the thing that makes me want to read the fic well, why would I think I want to read the fic?

Tagging on AO3 is vital. Tag the right relationships, tag the right emotions (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort). I often sort just by these. Always put in the category, (M/M, F/M, etc.) and the rating. There is no reason not to, but not doing so makes people less likely to read. Always tag triggers.

Never steal fics or ideas. If a story inspires you, you can ask the author if you can write something similar and then link in your story back to theirs. Nothing will make you less popular in a fandom than stealing work.

Lastly, I know authors constantly talk about how important comments and kudos are, and they are so important to bolstering spirits, I get that, but if you aren’t writing for yourself first, you will always be disappointed. You should enjoy your fic as much when you read it in your word doc as when you read it online with comments and kudos. And maybe you write really niche stuff that doesn’t appeal to a lot of people, but churning out carbon copies of the Fandom Tropes and hoping for hits is not going to satisfy you and you will keep being frustrated.

Let’s not do this again, shall we? Next time you have a question, ask me nicely.

[monkey-d-momo]

Another swordsman

Title: Another swordsman

Characters: Zoro and Sanji

Disclaimer: The characters and the univers belongs to Eiichiro Oda

Notes: It is the translation of my fic Un autre épéiste. I wrote it back in 2019, but I translated it recently. It was edited by @nopleaseexplain

You can also read it on ao3 or ff.net 

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“Oi! Sanji, I’m hungry!” screamed a young man with disheveled raven hair.

 The apprehended man sighed in annoyance. It was at least the ninth time today that the captain repeated this sentence. Before answering, he put down the refreshment he was carrying to his ladies who were sunbathing.

“I know, I know!” he screamed back. “There’s a snack in the kitchen.”

In a cry of joy, he rushed out towards the stairs to go to the kitchen and while not paying attention to the swordsman who was in the way.

“Luffy, be caref…!”

The pirate collided with a green haired man. With the shock, one of the swordsman’s katanas flew out of its scabbard and started to fall towards the deck, exactly where the cook and the two women of the crew were. The protective instinct of the blonde flared up and without thinking, he caught the sword, stopping it in its fall.

“Shitty marimo bastard!” he screamed. “Be careful, you could have harmed Nami-san and Robin-chan!”

“You’re the bastard!” answered Zoro back. “You be careful with my sword, it’s not a toy!”

“Don’t worry marimo! It’s not the first time I've handled a katana!”

Sanji had spoken thoughtlessly. He didn't immediately understand why everyone went silent...and was looking at him with big eyes.

“What? What did I say?”

“Since when have you handled a katana?” the swordsman asked, clearly surprised by this new information regarding his rival.

The cook felt his heart stopping.

“Knife! I said knife” he tried to take it back, “I’m a cook!”

“No, you did say katana”Namie replied. 

“Yeah, we all heard it clearly” Luffy added, finally showing up after everything.

All confirmed the captain’s words. Sanji cursed.

“So, care to explain?” Zoro asked eagerly. The one who wanted to be the best swordsman in the world was very interested that his rival in the crew could also use a sword, especially after defending the fact of not using his hands or a blade in combat and fighting only with his legs. And why was he trying to hide this at all cost ?

“It’s been a while” the blond replied. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

With these last words, he stuck the sword he still had in his hand in the ground and went to lock himself in the men’s quarters, slamming the door behind him and leaving the pirate crew speechless. The cook never acted this way.

“I think it’s a sensitive subject for him” commented Robin after a moment.

“Me, I’m hungry” declared the captain, going to the kitchen for a second time.

The common lethargy wore off and all resumed their activities. Zoro, however, was not finished. There was another swordsman on board, besides him and Brook, and he wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery.

He went downstairs to get back his katana before going to take a bottle of alcohol from the pantry. The cook would maybe be more prone to talk with some sake. His goal in mind, he entered the men’s quarters. The blond was lying down in his bed, using his hands as a pillow, looking up, lost in his thoughts. He still noticed the swordsman coming pretty quickly.

“Go away! I said I don’t wanna talk about it!”

“No.”

Sanji grew annoyed. “No what!?”

“I’m staying.”

He took a seat on his own bed which was right next to his rival’s – got to find out why it was chosen that way – and filled two cups of sake before offering one to the other man.

“You want to get me drunk so I’ll talk…”

“Maybe. But alcohol has always been good to keep bad memories away,” replied the green haired man. 

The cook sighed before taking the cup and drinking it in one shot. “How did you know it reminded me of bad memories?” he asked after a while.

“It was the most obvious option,” Zoro replied, filling the blonde’s cup once again 

“You’re not so stupid, it seems” Sanji mocked.

“And you’re trying to change the subject by starting a fight.”

“What a shame, it normally works.”

“Not this time. I’m serious.”

Indeed. The swordsman was looking at him in the eyes with a stern look. He was extremely stubborn and the cook knew that he would not drop the issue.

“Why do you want to know?” he sighed.

“You know why.”

Yes, Sanji knew. Despite their rivalry, the two men were like brothers. And he knew Zoro felt the same. When one was hurt, the other was hurt as well. He would not let go before the cook told him everything. It was his way of demonstrating his support and giving a little comfort.

The blond sat up in the bed. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. After taking a drag, he spoke.

“I won’t go into detail,” he started, “but my biological father is the head of an army..Basically”

“Your biological father!?” Zoro exclaimed, surprised. “You’ve never talked about him, I thought Zeff was your father!”

“Zeff is my dad. At least, I consider him as that.”

“And he’s at the head of an army? He’s a king?!”

“Yeah…”

“So, you’re a prince!? All my respect, your majesty” Zoro joked.

“Stop that,” Sanji said menacingly. He wasn’t in the mood for that. “I rejected my family long ago. I’m not a prince anymore.”

“Sorry, sorry. Go on.” To encourage him, Zoro served him another cup of sake. The cook looked at him suspiciously before accepting the cup and drinking it in one shot. He preferred wine, but at this moment, the rice alcohol was helping him feel better.

“So, my brothers and I…”

“You even have brothers!?”

“Yes, we’re four twins. And a big sister.”

“So, there are more like you?” Zoro laughed.

“No. I’m different.” The green haired man felt a hint of sadness in his rival’s voice. He didn’t like it. Sanji was obviously hiding a deep scar and he hated seeing that it was still hurting him. He filled the cups once more.

“Anyway. At a pretty young age, our father was training us to become commanders for his army” the blonde continued. “I was assigned as a swordsman. I trained for it until… I left my family.”

Zoro couldn’t believe it. His friend could have been a swordsman too. “How good were you?”

“Plain bad. Let’s just say my father wasn’t pleased about it.”

“What did he do?”

He shook his head. “I’ve said too much. Maybe another time.” He closed himself off. He wasn’t going to say any more, for now.

“Don’t worry. It’s in the past. You’re here now.”

Sanji looked up at the ceiling once more while laying down in his bed again. His rival did the same and the room became quiet. In the swordsman’s head, however, it was not quiet at all. He was really curious to know what his friend has been through and he was imagining so many scenarios. It wasn’t going to help him much. An idea popped in his mind.

“Let’s have a fight,”Zoro suggested, breaking the silence that had been going for few minutes now.

“We do that at least ten times a day, marimo.”

“I mean, a sword fight.” The concerned one looked at his crewmate like he'd grown a second head.

“Have you lost your mind? I’m not a swordsman! And I never use my hands while fighting, you know that!”

“A friendly sparring match,” he justified himself. “You’ll at least have a good memory of sword training.” 

Sanji was speechless. He didn’t know what to do with the marimo’s proposition. The latter then handed him one of his katana.

“Come on!” he insisted “see it as a revanche on your father.”

The blonde’s heart squeezed. How did his friend understand how many scars his biological father left him with? He looked at the sword in Zoro’s extended hand. It was Wado Ichimonji. The young man’s biggest treasure. He was dead serious and had just given the cook a great sign of trust.

“Okay” he obliged, not able to say “no” any more. He took the katana and the two men went to the ship’s deck under the surprised eyes of their crewmates. The whole crew had fallen silent when the two rivals each drew out a sword.

Zoro noticed that Sanji’s position was perfect. His hands were holding the handle at a good height, the blade in front of him. His feet were at a good distance apart and his whole body looked like it was ready to parry any attack. Everything in him showed sword training. How had he not noticed before? How had he not made the link with his cutting skills when he was cooking?

The green haired man did not have time to think, the cook was coming with a front attack. He didn’t have any difficulties blocking it, but was surprised by the precision and the strength of the strike. He counterattacked, but the blonde saw it coming and parried it effectively.

The match went on for a few minutes before the two men stopped. The whole crew stayed quiet during the fight.

“You could have been a really good swordsman,” Zoro commented, “you got skills.”

Sanji knew his rival hadn’t used his full potential, but he knew that he wasn’t the type to give compliments out of nowhere.

“I’m leaving the role to you” he said back with a smile in his voice.

“Uhh.. can somebody explain this to me?” asked Usopp. The crew looked like they were waiting for the answer eagerly. They were obviously confused by the whole scene they just saw.

“No,” the swordsman replied. “It’s between the cook and me.”

Life on the boat went on, as lively as usual. In the evening, when Zoro went up to the crow’s-nest, he saw a bottle of sake and some perfectly sculpted onigiri.

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Thank for reading!

[millennial-star-gazer]

The Draconic Demon Within: Chapter 4: A Demon’s All-Consuming Rage

The Draconic Demon Within

Genres: Romance, Friendship/Family, Drama/Angst, Hurt/ Comfort, & New Adult Fanfiction

Vera's April 2018 Prompts: Soul, Empyrean, Savage, Memory, Trust, Fear, Unstoppable , Resilient, Supernatural (Implied) Lost (Implied) and Loathing.

Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Dreams

Nalu Week 2019 Prompts (Implied:) Lost, Curse, Trial, Treasure, Chance and possibly Bare.

Pairing: Nalu/EndLu,( Natsu x Lucy/ E.N.D. x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You have been warned!)

Summary: Now faced with the reality of who he is truly is, the son of Igneel must contend with the new darker instincts of his new demonic identity- all while navigating through his ever-growing, intense feelings for a particular celestial wizard. Originally a Submission (semi -au) for Nalu lovefest 2017 (on my previous celestialgeekmage account and now an entry for nalu week 2019 with chapter 3. (Also was on my earliest previous accounts of teamedwardjace/Twishadowhunter in the past. Also part of Vera's April 2018 prompt challenge from fic-writers appreciation on cosmicdragonwizard).

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Chapter 4: A Demon's All- Consuming Rage

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A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl back again with another installment of TTDW! Fun fact: Being temporarily off work for a few weeks due to pandemic has provided some extra free time to edit and posta new chapter for this fic ( which is on account of the temporary closures of public institutions, and public spaces along with non-essential businesses/services in Ontario-the Canadian province I'm from). This isn't to suggest I'm not without fear or concern about the pandemic or potential effects on global infrastructure but at least I'm mostly coping as best as anyone can at this time. Hope you guys are all too. ( A bit more on this in the A/N at the end of this chapter .) Anyway, hope that this chapter and my other fanfics along with those from amazing writers can help you all while stuck at home. All right, that's pretty much my whole spiel for now. Without further ado, here's Chapter 4 of TTDW-Enjoy! 

(Note: Scroll down past the read more button/cut for the  designated legend menu and actual story content).

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Disclaimer: Fairytail does not belong to me, but to the most honourable Hiro-sensei instead, for whom without this work of love wouldn't be possible. 

Read Previous Chapters of TDDW and on platforms here:

(Copy and paste the links into another  window if need be)

A. Tumblr

Previous (Click Here:)  (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/185917542578/the-draconic-demon-within-chapter-3)

Next (Coming Soon:)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365061/chapters/40861307)

2. Ongoing Master  Post Of All My Writing (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized, stylized Word(s) or bloodthirsty fantasies

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"Your body is full of rage.

Every sinew. It is easy to read.

You speak volumes with a clenched fist."

( Paolo Bacigalupi: The Drowned Cities)

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"Seriously? Luce's alive?

That…. I can't...

A wave of overjoyed relief was washing over Natsu from the spectacular news about his best friend still breathing.

"Hear that Luce?!" He sobbed, not bothering to wipe the moisture from his eyes." You're alive and gonna be okay— Thank God! Really... don't ... know what I'd do without ya…," Scarlet-red eyes remained focused/trained on the face on the motionless angel in his arms.

"Pretty sure the guild and the rest of the people we know would be just as devastated if they lost such an incredible person and wizard . Glad you're okay either way though." Natsu's hands were stroking sweat-plastered strands of Lucy's hair back from her eyes with delicate care .

Really glad she's still in fact alive and kicking…

In that very moment , it was as if the world had fallen away; leaving just the two of them. Nothing else seemed to matter then . Not cold-blooded enemies in the room, or the recent battle just moments before; Not even E.n.d's unnerving metamorphosis. Just a dragon-demon and his most precious star with those subtle breaths, the visible rise and fall of her chest that somehow escaped any kind of major notice before.

Words can't even describe how relieved I am . Digits combed through Lucy's blonde tresses from crown to tip in a physical display of tender affection.

Hmm... Lucy's hair feels really nice. Natsu couldn't help but marvel at texture of her beneath his fingertips .Don't think I've ever stopped to fully appreciate it before .

"Gotta say that your hair feels really nice, Luce." Natsu voiced this innermost thoughts aloud; though his words were coming in soft. ."Smells real amazin' too."

Damn was the appealing fragrance of jasmine with a hint of cyclamen flooding his senses beyond intoxicating."like jasmine and that other flower we saw once— cyclamen, I think. . You've been using a new scented shampoo again, I see. Not that I'm complainin'."

"Psh—Listen to me" Natsu tacked on with a rueful chuckle that was still a bit thick from all that weeping before. " Gettin' all sentimental and crap. Hell... stripper would never even let me live it down if he heard . Still be damn proud of you though just like I am for how well you handled yourself in battle. Why don't we tell him all about it once you're awake and we're out of here?. Bet he'd like that . Till then, the two of us just need to sit tight and figure out our next move, okay?"

Wait ...

The fire demon's hands continued their fond movements- only for blood to freeze in his veins when noticing an unsightly contusion on Lucy's forehead; accented by a small gash just above her brow.

When did this happen? I swear those injuries hadn't there been seconds before .. .

Crimson eyes scanned his best friend's battered frame for further damage in alarm . My God... Natsu's breath caught in his throat at the sight of that line of discolorations on her legs . Not to mention all those scratches along with the small gash peeking out through the tattered remains of Lucy's Star dress .

"Oh Luce..." He sighed, remorseful voice breaking on her name. "Can see that you're in pretty rough shape right now. I'm so sorry. Honestly don't know how or why you had a delayed reaction to all the damage. But this wouldn't have happened if I only had grabbed you and run or got your spirits to transport you to their world, Hell— Maybe we could've both escaped and I could've helped kept you safe while figuring out this new demon form means for us together. Anyways, time to put pressure on your wound."

A hand tore a loose piece of fabric to apply pressure on the hemorrhaging wound. "See? You'll be okay . Gonnal get ya' all fixed up and good as new in no time ."

Damn Luce stills looks like an angel to me, Natsu mused in reverent admiration . Even with those injuries...

"Ooh- how cute!" Jackal's dervisie voice cut  through  the other demon’s reverie; whose arms automatically protectively tightened around Lucy's frame out of fierce instinct-automatic without a second though. Not to mention those two pair of eyes he could sense that set him on edge."

"Aw Damn." Jackal broke in again with a gleeful taunt that bordered on sadistic."That poor,pretty girl of you is covered in ugly bruises and scratches, Dragneel."

That little ...

Natsu's head automatically snapped around to meet Jackal with a baleful snarl. Damn was that all that black rage roaring in his veins all too consuming.

"There's that growling again" Jackal cackled, clearly unfazed at by the alpha demon's bared canines ." Bared fangs and what not. Such a shame what happened to Blondie here , or is it? You really did a number on her, huh Tempester?"

"Huh," Tempester mused, bland disinterest colouring his tone."it seems I did . Kind of forgot that my curses can sometimes have o delayed side effects on people . Who knows? That pathetic wrench might even have internal bleeding.

"You goddamned bastard!" The flame- eater raged, fury boiling over. "Lucy ain't pathetic or some kind of toy to play with ... God.. All those injuries… are you fault and . I swear that You're both gonna pay for what you did to her!"

"Oh-You think so?" Jackal scoffed with let out another infantilizing laugh —beyond infuriating .

"Someone's rattled." Tempster pointed out, listless eyes trained on the stone-brick wall ahead. "Unfortunate."

"You don't say," Jackal deadpanned, with a disdainful roll of the eyes ."But Seriously Though , E.N.D, do you even hear yourself? .I mean getting all riled up over a human girl in that way —talk about pathetic. Sure said girl is extremely beautiful with a killer bod and feisty personality to boot—I'll give you that. But is she worth losing your cool over or fraternizing with? I don't think so and neither should you . God knows all that pent up rage and aggression would be far more suited for another cause. Not to mention, you'd better off without her life tainting your judgement and hindering your full potential as the most powerful of all etherious. So let's resolve this, shall we? Hand over the celestial wizard and I'll gladly dispose of her for you . Sound good?"

" 'Sound good?'Sound Good?!’ Are you kidding me?"!

Good God did those last words only serve to incense the snarling dragon further.

" There's no way in hell I'm gonna give Lucy up or let either of you touch her!"

"Come on Dragneel-be reasonable."

"No-rot in hell!"

"Oh honestly E.N.D.-"

"My name is Natsu!"

"Well okay then, Natsu— Just calm down ." Jackal's couldn't seem to resist reprimanding the fire demon; as if he were some errant child pitching a fit ."You're being ridiculous. Anyways, tell you what. I promise to make her death as qui-"

"Shut up!"

" Quick and mostly painless..."

"I said shut up!" En.d's voice rose to an ear-splitting roar that could've struck terror into the hearts of the gods themselves. "Try anything on her and I swear I'll kill you!"

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To Be Continued

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A/N: Well that's Chapter 4 folks- hope you enjoyed! Now a bit more about the pandemic situation in Ontario . Like many other provinces and countries around the world,, the government of Ontario has opted to shut down/ temporarily close non-essential services, businesses, public spaces and institutions to help curb the spread of the virus for a few weeks (or more) before spring break. Such institutions include all schools and childcare centres/ services in those settings which applies to the childcare company I'm currently employed with. You know on account of most of their centres and programs being based in public schools. (Independently-run Daycares also remain closed. And yes i'm a ECE by trade for any who were wondering or didn't already). Schools and child cares were tentatively scheduled to reopen after April 5th; though the closures have been extended for another month (according to Doug Ford (the premier/leader of Ontario). Not ideal but at least it gives me some extra time for me to work on things alongside my writing(i.e editing upcoming chapters for fics and WIPS). All right folks, that's all I have to say on that subject.

As usual, please feel free to let me know what you think by leaving a comment/review , through a reblog or by any other means. Be sure to check out the rest of my writing while staying tuned for future updates of my fics and new projects along the way! (Links above, in the navigation and in bio If on tumblr . Also on fanfiction.) Anyway, take care and stay safe! Ta ta for now!

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

@megatraven

OKAY SO MY PARANORMAN IDEA WAS THAT:

Like ok my idea is a little conflicted and it’s going to be in 2 parts because I have 2 other versions (or 1 since my 2nd version isn’t making sense and isn’t too thought out) to write and this one is already long. This version goes with the “oh MC went down Hades route and listened to Astraeus and she loves Alex yet she kills all the gods.” So going down that part of the idea is that:

She is in pain. She is scared. She doesn’t know what to do. That one raised hand meant everything to her. And Hades raised his hand,,,and was going to let her die. He was going to witness it. And she was scared. Petrified. And so she listens to Astraeus. It pains her to kill people she does care for, but she doesn’t know what else to do. And when she sees Alex not even wanting to help her (I can’t remember if they turned their back on her? I can’t remember my bad-), she loses it. She listens to Astraeus, takes the clothes he gives her, steals the artifacts, and kills the Gods. However, MC takes a death blow and she’s dying and only Alex is there to comfort her. They swore to always be there for her since they were kids, and they failed before, and they’re not going to fail again.

“MC, I’m so sorry,” they would whisper to her, voice shaking with emotion. They blame themselves but MC smiles at them and places a hand on their cheek. “It’s not your fault,” and then her face turns into an angry scowl, “it’s the GODS’ fault!” Alex winced at the anger in her voice. They’ve never heard it that loud and that roaring, but they still comfort her. They love her and they failed her, and in her last moments they hold her close to them, listening to her heart beat and her words as she speaks, and then she takes her last breath, and they wish they took their last breath with her.

And like,,lets just imagine the funeral happens, and Alex goes home and sleeps one night. I sincerely don’t know how to do the scene where Aggie and Norman meet in the spirit world (In a way???) for Alex and MC so,,they got there by sleeping lol. They’re at a beach and its sunset. They don’t know why they’re there, but they know it’s not a dream, so they look around. They see MC wearing the clothes she wore as she died, and she was standing in the ocean, the water only to her thighs. She’s staring at the sunset and it’s not even hurting her eyes. They walk over to her, not caring about getting wet, and they stand next to her. They look at her beautiful face and see tears streaking down her cheeks. They move their hand to wipe them away and she closes her eyes at the comfort. 

“This...this is where Hades proposed to me, you know?” Her voice is shaky and sounds a little distant but they push through and listen to her, like they should have done before. “It’s beautiful here.” They looked at the sunset and it truly was beautiful. If they were to propose to her, they would do it here as well. “We were so happy,” she said, voice getting quieter with every word. Alex knew she truly loved Hades and they knew Hades loved her, and so they can’t understand why he wouldn’t fight for her. Was it fear? Cowardly? Shame? They don’t know, but they can see why she’s in pain. They don’t know what to say to that, anger rising in their chest from all of this mess. They heard the water swish and looked back at MC to see her turning to face them. “Alex...I’m so sorry.” 

More tears slipped from her eyes and their eyes became blurry from their own tears. “I was so in love, but was I blinded? Was I an idiot to not see this coming? Why would he do this?” Her questions weren’t directed at Alex, she doesn’t even know who she wanted to ask. Alex would grab her hand and hate how cold it was. She looked down at their hands and saw how Alex’s grip was tight, but gentle. “Why?” Alex was confused for a moment. “Why what?” Her hand began to shake. “Why are you here? Comforting me. Why? I destroyed your family! I got rid of everything you care for.” She didn’t look back up at them, she was scared to look up at them. She loves them and they are family to her, and she has ruined that connection, there’s no doubt about it. However, Alex tilts her chin to make her look back at them. 

“Because I love you. You were blinded by anger and I see why. The God’s did a terrible action, not a mistake.  I disagree with your actions, yes, but I love you, MC.” Their words were rushed as well. MC finally looked back up at them and she was in shock. They love her? How did she not notice? She’s known Alex since they were both kids and knows Alex better than anyone else (other than their Mother and Nyela), so how did she not notice? “Alex...”. She didn’t know what else to say, so she only said the name of the last person she loves. “I’ve messed up. I’ve done something terrible. I’m gonna just end up in Tartarus and I see why,” she said with a small laugh at the end, even if they know it’s filled with sadness. “I went against everything I promised to never do. I always promised to forgive and help people, not do what they have done to me, but I’m just as bad as the Gods, Alex!” Her voice was now loud with despair. 

She believed she was now just like the Gods, even without becoming the Goddess that’s resting under her skin. Well, that was resting under her skin. Alex shook their head. “MC, you did something terrible, but listen to me. You were angry, you were in despair, you didn’t know what to do, and the Gods have done worse. They have killed innocent people in the stories I’ve read so many times that I’ve lost count, and you weren’t going to let it happen again. It’s okay, MC. I promise.” MC still felt horrible, but to see Alex just...here and comforting her brought her a bit of peace. “And I’m angry too. I love Hades and my mother, but they would’ve done something I would never forgive. They would’ve killed my best friend, someone I love more than a best friend, someone I’ve known all my life, and someone I broke a promise to,” their voice got quieter with every word, but they know MC hears it by the way a smile comes to her lips and more tears fall from her eyes.

“Alex, I know why you did what you did, and I still love you.” They know she didn’t mean it in the way they did, but she smiled brighter at them and placed her hand on their cheek. “I don’t know what I feel. I love Hades still, even after what he’s done, but my feelings...are changing? They’re weird, Alex,” she laughed at the end. “Feelings are extremely weird,” they said with a laugh as well. They needed to hear her laugh one more time, and they did. She then began to slowly fade away. She held out her pinky finger to Alex. “Will you pinky promise me that you’ll find me again? That we’ll find each other,” she said with a smile and a choked back sob. Memories rushed back to both of them as kids and Alex and MC promising each other to be always be there for the other. That they’d love each other forever and help each other, and it brought tears to Alex’s eyes once again. Alex linked their pinky with hers and they both smiled at each other. How could they not promise it to her?

She then faded away and Alex was left to look at the sunset for a few more seconds before they woke up. The ache in their heart is even worse now, but they know she’s coming back. They know it. And they won’t let her face a fate such as this. Whether she ends up with them or not, their love for her will last an eternity, and they will use their divinity to protect her, because they failed her this time...

SO LIKE,,,THIS WASN’T AS GOOD AS I WANTED IT TO BE FIJKDS. I love this idea but I’m just terrible at writing it lol. And this is only version 1. I didn’t put them all together because then it’d be super long, so I’m gonna post 1 more post with this idea. It may contain the other 2 versions I have but I’m not sure. But anyways I hope you like this and cried like I did,,,

There is proof reading but sorry if there is mistakes or typos :(.

EDIT: ALSO MEG!! I’m going to @ you in that fic of Hades killing MC to help relieve her of the pain of becoming Hera (the idea I sent in your ask box awhile ago) bc I’m still crying over that idea,,,and I need someone to read it and cry with me-

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.

[keeroo92]

Tumblr Tips You Probably Already Know

So I don’t know about you guys, but for me learning how tumblr works was a pain in the ass. I thought it might be handy to share a few tricks I’ve picked up the last few months for anyone who needs them. Bear in mind I’m still extremely new at this, and not all blogs would benefit from my amateur advice. I’m posting this just in case one of you guys are as frustrated and annoyed as I was at the beginning.

First - Adding a “Keep Reading” divider

Why to do it -  If you post a lot of longer stories, viewers will be forced to scroll through the entire post to see anything further on their feed. While this might seem like a good way to get people to read your work, it can become a hindrance if people don’t have the time to read and are forced to either suck it up and scroll, or unfollow you.

How to do it -

When you are preparing to post (Text post) just hit “Enter”. You should see a few icons on the right of where you’re currently typing, like this.

The icon on the far right will insert a divider that can be dragged to anywhere you like, and when you post it will create one of these -

Readers will need to click to view the full post. I don’t know if there’s a way to create these with any other type of post, but it’s something I learned after an Anon asked me to please use the tool. (Thank you Anon!!!)

My personal preference is to also list the word count above the cut off, so that my readers have a rough idea how much time they might need to finish reading. If you aren’t sure what your word count is, you can paste your work here and find out - https://wordcounter.net/

Some programs have something like this built in as well.

Timing your post

Why to do it - Like any site, tumblr has peaks and valleys of activity. I did a little bit of poking around and found that the most active time of day is between 4pm and 10pm Eastern. If you are trying to maximize the number of people who see your post, it may help to post during this window.

How to do it - I’m pretty terrible about dong this, but when you’re preparing a  post, you can schedule when it appears by clicking the drop down menu on the post button, here.

A small menu should open, like this.

The schedule can be annoying to work with, since it requires a specific format of date. Again, I suck at this, but I’ve noticed if it doesn’t like what I put in the post only refuses to submit.

The post will not even minimize, so you won’t lose your work. (I still recommend keeping a copy elsewhere just in case!!!) Here’s what it looks like -

This menu will also appear when you reblog a previous post, so you can schedule your reblogs with ease.

Opinions vary on whether reblogs actually do any good, but that’s for you to decide for yourselves. Both these scheduling features can be extremely helpful if you won’t be able to post for a few days (vacation, illness, etc.) but you don’t want your blog to stagnate.

Creating a Masterlist

Why to do it - Once you have a few pieces of writing posted, you want people to be able to find them, right? A Masterlist puts links to all your work in one place, like a Table of Contents. Someone just finding your blog can go through everything you’ve written to date and binge it all at once, or just a few to decide if they really want to follow you.

How to do it - Here’s a link to an in-depth tutorial. I’ll summarize below as well.

Start with a new text post. You’ll want to have an idea of how to organize your stuff in advance. I chose to do mine based off of the main pairing, but I’ve seen others go by the date of the post or type of post. You can do it however you like.

Next, list out everything you can think of. It’s fine if you don’t have a full list, you can always go back and add more later. Make sure you put everything in the right category.

Now the annoying part - linking! Every post you make has its own page, and you’ll need to copy the full URL. There’s a million ways to do it, but I just scrolled through my post history with a tag filter on and opened/copied each one in turn. It can be time consuming if you have a lot of posts, though.

Once you have the URL copied, find the line on your masterlist you want to use and highlight it.. Here’s an example.

Now, click on the little figure eight thing I circled. It’ll open a spot for you to paste the URL, like so.

Once it’s in there, click “Done” on the right side of the bubble to save the link. It’ll add a blue line under the text to show where people can click to follow the link. Repeat this until you’ve got each item linked up!

Go ahead and post it, and grab the URL for the masterlist itself. Navigate to your profile and click the little painter’s palette to edit your blog’s appearance. Mine is in the upper right corner, I don’t know if that’s standard.

On the left side of your screen, a new window should open where you can change all kinds of settings. Scroll down to find the custom link section. I’m not sure if every theme has this feature, so you may need to pick a new one to do this. Here’s what mine looks like.

Make whatever changes you like, but make sure you hit “Save” at the top of the window. You might want to check your profile to make sure it looks the way you want it to, but that should be all you need! Be sure to update your masterlist regularly. If you ever discover a line is missing the blue line underneath to show it’s a link, that likely means the link is broken. Generally, you can fix this by redoing the URL paste step above.

A few handy sites -

https://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page

If you feel a bit overwhelmed by the number of fannish words you aren’t familiar with, you can find most here. Great way to deepen your understanding and also make sure you’re tagging the right genre’s!

https://prowritingaid.com/en/Analysis/WebEditor/Go

This site is amazing. They have all kinds of editing tools, too many to list in one post. The main idea here is if you want to analyze your writing, this site does it for free. There’s a 500 word limit unless you want to spend a little money, but IMO it’s worth trying out. However, it can’t tell you your style or identify deliberate grammatical errors. Take it’s advice with a grain of salt, and don’t blindly do everything it says. You will lose what makes your writing unique if you do.

https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/

HOLY PROMPTS, BATMAN!!! Seriously, this blog has so many amazing ideas it’s ridiculous. If you want to find a new plot or crazy AU, this WILL give you ideas!

https://writeordie.com/

A great tool for breaking through writer’s block! This site allows you to set a timer and word count, and program sounds to make should you reach/miss your goal. Not for everyone, but I like it for when I have tons of ideas but just can’t settle on one. Best part is it doesn’t delete your work after the time runs out, so you can copy it anywhere you like!

https://ao3commentoftheday.tumblr.com/

This blog is fantastic for any random questions you might have regarding fanfic. They answer things from how to write a chat fic, to how to write an ASL character, to where to find references on how to write a car chase. Truly amazing stuff!

And last lil thing - HAVE FUN!!!!

(Also, sorry if this whole post reads unkindly or in a condescending tone, that is NOT how I mean any of this! I’m not perfect and still have so much to learn, honestly just wanted to share on the off chance it’s useful to someone else.)

[diinofayce]

Who You Sellin’ For? - 5

Pairing: Bodyguard! Steve Rogers x OFC!Musician! Addison Schmidt x Bodyguard! Bucky Barnes | Word Count: 3.5k | Warnings: Alternate Universe, withdrawal, language | A/N: Song in the fic is: Under the Water and then like always there’s the link to the Chapter theme below the graphic  | MASTERLIST

Just Tonight

The next morning saw everyone congregated in the kitchen again. Wanda, Pietro, and Sam were laughing over their steaming mugs of coffee and tea and bowls of cereal when Steve and Bucky rolled out of bed to join the band.

Bucky was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes while he fumbled around for a clean mug to pour the lukewarm coffee into and revitalize him for the day. Steve stuck with orange juice, coffee in the morning gave him acid reflux. Bucky slumped down at the large kitchen table, his fingers tangled in his knotted bed head while he stared contemplatively into his coffee.

“For security detail, y’all sleep pretty late,” Sam teased smirking at Bucky.

Bucky’s icy glare shot up at the man and his lips pressed into a thin line. “My internal clock is still shifting from working for Stark. He lives more of a night life.” He took a large gulp of the coffee praying that the caffeine would kick in quickly.

Steve sat down next to his boyfriend and knocked their shoulders together. “Well, and Buck has never been a morning bird. You guys all get up much earlier than we thought, though. I’ll start setting my alarm for earlier.”

Pietro shrugged and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and holding his mug in both hands. “That’ll change come tour time. We’re not normally up so early, but the interview ran this morning so we wanted to see it. It’s the first one for the new band, we were excited.”

“How’d it look?” Steve asked, perking up.

“Where’s Addison?” Bucky asked in confusion at the same time, looking around the open floor plan for the platinum blond.

Wanda and Pietro frowned and Sam grimaced slightly.

“The interview was good, they didn’t warp anything we said or cut anything funny in editing,” Sam said, but still sounded like he was upset.

“So what’s wrong?” Steve asked looking between them all.

“Well, the comments weren’t the best,” Wanda answered softly and pulled her phone out, unlocking it and pushing it towards the two men across from her.

Steve slid the phone over so both him and Bucky could read the small screen.

Both Steve and Bucky read the comments with growing anger and disgust. They had obviously seen their fair share of bad press and nasty comments working in the industry and for every nasty comment there were at least three positive ones, but some of them were so foul. Everything ranging from how she only got noticed because she was pretty and white, to people pointing out that Stark is her uncle so of course, she’d always be on a label, to the ones that were claiming to have been at the house party only days prior and watching her do lines of cocaine and down bottles of booze.

Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face and grumbled about going upstairs to put on actual clothing, he knew what it was like to get speculative and accusing articles. When he left Hydra, Alexander had thrown all the evidence of Bucky’s wrongdoings at the police’s feet. Luckily, Steve had stepped in and talked to Tony managing to secure Bucky a job, a psychiatrist, and the full force of Tony’s legal team. Bucky had been cleared of all wrongdoing when it came to the actions he performed on behalf of Hydra and when it looked like it was about to go public and shed Hydra in a negative light Pierce dropped everything and let Bucky go, but that also meant that none of the heat had fallen off of Bucky’s shoulders.

Just as Bucky was pulling a brush through his hair he heard Steve come into the room.

“Buck?” he heard his boyfriend call for him and Bucky opened their bathroom door.

“In here, Stevie.”

Steve slid into the bathroom next to Bucky and leaned against the vanity counter. “The guys said she locked herself into the recording studio.” Steve said. While they had all been out at Rolling Stone, Tony had a team in to convert the pool house into a recording studio at Addison’s request.

“I’m not great at the hand holding shit, Stevie,” Bucky grumbled jamming a toothbrush in his mouth.

“Sure you are,” Steve countered wrapping one arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling him into his side. Steve leaned down and rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, kissing the soft spot behind Bucky’s ear. Bucky let out a pleased rumbling sound and tilted his head to give Steve better access.

Bucky tapped Steve’s hip so he could pull away and spit the toothpaste out into the sink.

“She’s probably not even going to want anything from us. I’m sure she’ll just be snappy and bratty,” Bucky moaned. “Our job is just making sure she isn’t killed by Hydra.”

Steve pursed his lips and looked down at his feet. Bucky watched Steve’s face closely.

“What the fuck is it with you and picking emotionally damaged strays?”

Steve’s passive face broke into a pleased smile. “I like the challenge,” he rumbled softly, quirking his gaze up to meet Bucky’s.

“She’s a good person, Bucky. I know she is. But there’s more to her story, she’s been hurt bad and she’s barely hanging on. Doesn’t that bother you?” Steve asked.

Bucky sighed with frustration and pulled a zip up hoodie off the rack on the bathroom door. “Sometimes, Steve, she isn’t the only one keeping their shit together by a thread.”

With that he left Steve standing in the bathroom as he thundered his way down the stairs and out into the crisp morning air. Bucky didn’t want to argue with Steve, he knew that he had thrown a bit of a low blow back there. Steve was the type to immediately assume that he wasn’t doing enough as a partner when that was farther from the truth. Bucky knew he had the tendency to make their relationship a little difficult, he couldn’t help it, his head wasn’t always in the right space for it. And while Steve hadn’t been wrong back at the Rolling Stone head quarters, they had always shared partners, Bucky still felt vulnerable more often than not when it came to private intimacy and he wasn’t sure he was ready to add anyone else into their mix. There was a tiny hint of jealousy that had never been present with Bucky before now that was throwing him. Was he just not providing Steve with enough that the first dame to walk by with long legs and lashes and Steve couldn’t wait to throw them into the mix?

Bucky knew that line of thinking was incorrect and unfair. The moment Bucky said he wasn’t ready for it he knew Steve would drop it. There was also the weird nagging attraction that he also had to Addison that he couldn’t deny. The fact that she was just so lost and hurting provoked Bucky’s need to protect and shelter, which was the same instinct that Steve had and he knew that.

Just as Bucky was reaching the pool house he felt a strong hand wrap around his elbow and pull him to a stop.

“Buck…” Steve’s soft voice pulled him up from the dark waves that he was starting to drown in.

“Don’t, Steve. I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered and he was immediately enveloped by warm and strong arms.

“I’m not saying let’s do it, Bucky. I’m saying we should just take a little extra care with her,” Steve murmured in his ear and Bucky nodded.

The men separated and Steve tucked an errant lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear making the darker haired man smile before they both turned and quietly entered the converted pool house.

Addison had her back to the men on the other side of the glass partition, her bare feet were tangled in the rungs of the barstool she was sitting on as she lazily strummed an acoustic guitar. Both men noted the red ‘RECORDING’ sign was lit so they silently took seats behind the soundboards to watch. It was probably rude, to intrude in such a way, they could easily keep watch from outside of the pool house, but they were starting to feel like most of their job wasn’t protecting Addison from Hydra it was protecting her from herself.

“Lay my head under the water Lay my head under the sea Excuse me, sir, am I your daughter? Wont you take me back? Take me back and see?”

Her soft voice was laden with sorrow and pain. Her long platinum hair that was pressed down by large headphones fell in front of her face as she brushed her nose against the mesh circle in front of the microphone. Her long fingers moved deftly over the fret board of the guitar and she stretched her left leg down to push a pedal on the floor with her toes and flipping a switch on the front panel of the instrument she brought power to the guitar in her lap, igniting the sound to vibrant electric.

“There’s not a time for being younger And all my friends are enemies. And if I cried unto my mother No, she wasn’t there, she wasn’t there for me.”

“Don’t let the water drag me down. Don’t let the water drag me down.”

Addison took a noticeably shaking breath and her fingers faltered for just a moment before she seemed to rally herself and plug on. Steve and Bucky’s hands had found one another and they held onto each other tightly behind the glass as they watched her back, completely mesmerized.

“Broken lines across my mirror Show my face all red and bruised And though I screamed and I screamed Well, no one came running Oh, I wasn’t saved, I wasn’t safe from you.”

“Don’t let the water drag you down. Don’t let the water drag you down. Don’t let me drown, don’t let me drown in the waves. I could be found, I could be what you had saved.”

Steve and Bucky watched Addison break. As she screamed ‘saved’ over and over in the microphone, her voice cracking and her knuckles white, they watched her tumble and fall. This was the most honest they had ever seen the girl and it became more apparent than ever that they were intruding and they shouldn’t have come in. This was almost religious and extremely intimate and the boys couldn’t help but feel guilty, but they also couldn’t will themselves to stand up and slip out the door. This was a beautiful train wreck, the fall from grace, it was honest and pure and painful.

“Lay my head under the water Aloud I pray for calmer seas And when I wake from this dream with chains all around No I’ve never been, I’ve never been free… No I’ve never been, I’ve never been free… No I’ve never been, I’ve never been free…”

The guitar slipped from Addison’s lap and hung limply at her side, gripped in her left hand by the neck as she swiped the back of her right arm across her face. Reaching up she slid the headphones from her head to dangle around her neck and she half looked over her shoulder at the guys behind her.

“Wanna hit the red flashing button?” she asked hoarsely.

Bucky and Steve blinked once before Bucky managed to reach out and press the large button on the sound board to stop the recording. Addison sniffled a bit and scrubbed at the stains on her cheeks before returning her guitar to the little stand and standing up to stretch her long limbs and rake her hair back into a messy ponytail. She cleared her throat before turning to stare at them through the glass; her silver eyes were still bright despite being red rimmed and puffy, the tip of her nose was red from crying and even though she scrubbed at her cheeks repeatedly Steve and Bucky could still see the tracks of her tears. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a flowy white t-shirt with an over sized gray cardigan that hung down her knees.

She crossed her arms in front of her as if to protect herself in her sudden show of emotion and levied the men with a hard stare.

“Didn’t you see the red light on the outside? That means don’t come in.” Addison unplugged her headset from the recording box and left the little recording room to join the two men in the sound room.

“There was no light?” Steve asked hesitantly looking at Bucky for confirmation. Bucky just shrugged back unhelpfully, he had been too caught up in Steve to notice anything like that. Which, considering their job, was probably a bad thing.

Addison let out a little noise of disbelief before plugging the jack of her headphones into the sound board and adjusted a few of the sliders.

“Sounded good,” Bucky supplied, nodding his chin towards the other room.

“It’s decent. Not a bad start to a new album,” Addison grumbled, hitting play to listen to the recording with only her left ear cuff on, the one of the right tucked behind the shell of her ear so she could still communicate with her nosy security team.

“New album already?” Steve asked, brow furrowing. He figured the band would want to be practicing the ones on the album so when the tour was ready to take off they’d be good to go.

Addison sighed and rested her chin in her hand as she curled her knees to her chest in the chair. “No…new album totally. Tony sent me an email over from my lawyer…I fucked up in the interview by mentioning working with Wanda on stuff. Pierce put a subpoena through demanding all emails and direct lines of contact between myself and the members of the band during the time I was in contract under Hydra. He’s trying to rip the album out from under us…or take a part of the royalties. We don’t make shit for royalties anyway so really he’s just trying to be an ass.”

She pulled her pony tail around over her shoulder and picked at the ends nervously. “I haven’t told the others yet. They worked so hard on this album and now it’s all gonna end up Pierce’s vault.”

Bucky took a moment to actually examine Addison. Her pallor was pale and ashen, small beads of sweat were sitting on the surface of her upper lip and forehead. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling as she fidgeted with her hair and the dials of the soundboard, her right leg bouncing anxiously up and down. His lips pursed with his frown and he cast Steve a pointed look that had him examining her closer as well and connecting all the dots.

“I don’t think the others are going to be mad at you, Addison,” Steve said softly, his demeanor instantly switching from abashed at being caught in the studio to over protective of her wellbeing.

“I didn’t say they would be. I just feel like a fucking asshole. Just another fucking thing I managed to screw up,” Addison bit back and it had Steve sitting back in his seat.

“Hey,” Bucky soothed, reaching forward and finding the pause button on the playback. When Addison didn’t protest he reached up and slowly slid the headphones from her head set them on the table. “Why don’t you just step away from this for a minute. Did you eat something this morning?”

Addison shook her head and wrapped her arms around her knees before resting her chin on them. “I’ll just throw it up. I just have to keep working. If I can just…” Addison paused and took a shaking breath. “If I can just work for the next couple of days I’ll be okay. I just can’t focus on it.” She brought her nail up to her mouth and stuck the nail between her teeth, chomping down and breaking the acrylic with a sharp snap that had both men wincing. “I don’t want him to control me anymore.”

She didn’t need to clarify what ‘it’ was or what control Pierce still had over her. Both Steve and Bucky could pin point the signs of withdrawal pretty quickly and both men were just impressed she hadn’t taken anything yet to stem the pain.

“No, I think what would be best is if we got you upstairs to bed. You can bring your guitar if you want, but you should lay down with some water,” Steve pressed and Addison frowned, but nodded.

She unfurled herself from the chair and pulled her cardigan tighter around her as a shiver wracked her body. Addison left the guitar in the recording room as she led the way back up into the house. Bucky and Steve both looked behind themselves to see that there was in fact a light above the door and when recording was happening there probably was a light that flashed.

Bucky followed Addison up to her room while Steve took a detour to the kitchen to fill a pitcher with ice water.

“Everything okay?” Wanda asked, still at the breakfast table with some toast.

“Addison is having some withdrawal. We’re taking her back to bed,” Steve commented, his eyes shooting over to the red head.

Wanda frowned for a second with contemplation and then nodded. “Okay, Piet, you know the drill. Let’s start purging the house.” Wanda and Pietro both pushed their dishes away from them and split up with the intent of scouring the house for drugs and liquor and getting rid of it.

Steve watched as the twins rushed off and quirked an eyebrow at Sam who was reading the paper just like he was the morning before. Sam just shrugged at him. “I don’t know where they keep half that shit,” he commented and turned a page.

On his way up to Addison’s room he sent off a text to Natasha asking her to reschedule any interviews the band or Addison had for the coming week with the promise he would explain later. Pushing open the door he didn’t immediately see Bucky and Addison, but he heard them in the bathroom. He felt a tinge of nausea as he heard Addison wretch into the toilet and was so appreciative over the fact that Bucky was never bothered by that sort of thing. Pouring a glass of water from the pitcher he wrapped his knuckles on the bathroom door and Bucky poked his head out.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky sighed and took the glass of water from him. Leaning up on his toes he gave Steve a quick peck to the lips before shutting the door again, knowing that Steve couldn’t stand vomiting.

Steve sat down on the edge of Addison’s unmade bed and waited for the two to come out. At one point Wanda came bustling in and opened up dresser drawers and her bedside table, coming out with a handful of clear baggies and orange bottles of prescription pills. Wanda smiled brightly at Steve before rushing out before Addison could see that Wanda had her stash.

Just in time for the toilet to flush and the sink to run. Bucky led Addison out into her room where she flopped unceremoniously into her bed, her platinum hair sticking to the sweat of her forehead, but her breath coming out freshly minty as she sighed. Bucky must have force mouth wash upon the small girl. Steve reached out and brushed the hair off of Addison’s forehead as Bucky sat down on the other side of her.

“So, I know I’ve been nothing but a selfish bitch this whole time,” Addison mumbled into her pillow and Bucky quirked an amused eyebrow at Steve. “But can I be selfish again?”

“What do you need?” Steve asked, pulling her comforter up around her.

“You guys are like furnaces and I’m fucking freezing,” Addison noted before trailing off and cracking a red rimmed eye open to look at them both.

Bucky sighed and pulled the comforter back slightly. “Well, budge into the middle then, doll.”

Addison hummed sleepily but managed to drag herself into the middle of the king sized bed where Bucky slid up to her right side. He shot Steve a pointed look, the blond man was the one that got them into this mess to begin with so he’d better pony up. Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and slid into Addison’s left. Addison sighed in content as she rolled over and curled into Steve’s side, absorbing his warmth.

Bucky skooched in closer to her backside and pulled out his phone.

“What level are you on in Candy Crush?” he whispered to Steve as Addison started to drift off to sleep.

“248?” Steve asked, pulling out his own phone.

“Nice,” Bucky smirked and opened up level 249.

[padfootagain]

10 things I wish someone had told me when I started to write fanfictions

 To start this little series of posts where I will attempt to gather the best advices I can give you concerning writing, I'm going to go through a list of 10 things that I wish I had known when I started to post my first fanfictions on the internet. The first few are more about being a fanfic writer on this hellsite, but then I drift towards more writing stuff.

This might also be interesting for people who don't write, if they're curious about the whole process, I hope some of them read this as well.

I do not pretend to be right. I will never dare to pretend to be right about anything. But from my personal experience, here are a few things that I feel like you should know if you are writing fanfics and want to share your work.

This post is long, sorry. Feel free to pick up the bits that you're the most interested in.

Also, if you want me to treat a particular subject in one of these posts (that should be shorter in the future), please, do tell me. I'll be happy to (try to) help :D

Word count : 4914

Alright, let's go!

1. Spread love, spread love, spread love and spread even more love

 If you are around here, it means that you love these silly characters beyond what is reasonable. It's okay, we are all in it together. Then, do not bother with people you find annoying or spread negativity through a fandom. Block them. Avoid them. There is enough negativity in life without it spreading to stain what makes you happy. Do not hesitate to block people. You will find your stay around here much more enjoyable then.

Be kind to people. No matter if they message you on or off anon, no matter what they are asking, be nice. Listen to them. Some are very shy and clumsy with words, some make tons of mistakes while writing in English, it doesn't matter. Be kind. Make them feel welcome on your blog. Show them that you are a safe place around here. You wouldn't want people to dismiss you after you try to be nice to them right? So don't do it to other people. There are many people around here who keep on telling me that they were hesitant in messaging me because they were nervous. Don't be nervous. Talk to each other. Talk to me, I want to talk to you. Be nice with each other. If we have created this kind of fanfiction blogs, it's because we love the characters we write for. We will always be up for a chat about them.

 2. Wisely use your tags, you shall.

 Because it is extremely annoying as a reader when you are looking for a Sirius Black x Reader fic and you end up with some Jily angst. Make sure to tag all your stories, but do it accurately. Do not tag something as wolfstar if it's a Remus x reader imagine. It's just so annoying when the results don't match what you are looking for. Personally, it doesn't make me want to read the imagine, on the contrary, it just annoys me, and I will not visit the blog where it was posted.

To tag your stories, try to think about these three things :

- Who is the main character in my story ? Are there other characters that are really important in the plot?

- Which fandom am I writing for ?

- What part of the fandom is this character involved in?

If several characters are involved, try to determine which ones are the most important and tag them first. You can tag a character using both the full name or just the first name, so think about including both versions.

So, for a Sirius Black x reader story some Jily, you will have the tags:

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius imagine #sirius fanfiction #hp # marauders era #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #jily #jily fanfiction #jily imagine #james potter #lily evans potter

See? Then your imagine will come up first if people are looking for Sirius. It might appear for Jily too, but the order of the tags indicate that they're not that important in the story. You can also tag if you are writing fluff, angst… it's up to you. If you don't really know which tags you should use, try to check the tags used by fanfiction writers that you like, it might help.

 3. Comments are rare, but it's not because it’s you

 As a writer, you have put all your energy and soul and emotions into this piece of writing you have just posted. Fasten your seatbelt. You will then experiment the rollercoaster of emotions that goes with it:

- First, the excitement of posting something new

- Then, the long wait for any form of feedback or validation

- Refreshing the page every five seconds to see if your story has a note

- "Oh! A little heart! Someone read it!!!!"

- The slow realization striking that you're not getting much notes

- Going to bed asking yourself a thousand questions and thinking that you are the worst writer on tumblr, as your post didn't get more than 5 notes for now

- Waking up in the morning to find ONE comment on your fic

- Blessing that person with your whole being and worshiping this wonderful human being for a long while as you keep on re-reading the five-words long little message that was written on your post

- Noticing a few reblogs and looking at them all one by one to check if a comment was left in the tags

- Disappointment washing over you every time you see no tags

- A bright grin when you see a 'good fic' in a tag

Yes, this is the usual fanfic writer rollercoaster. You are not the only one experiencing it. Every single writer here does experience the same.

Yes, it is, sadly, normal to receive very few comments on your stories, it doesn't mean that you are a bad writer.

Yes, OCs are not as popular as reader inserts on tumblr. You will get even less notes for these stories. Again, it is, sadly, normal, and it doesn't mean that your OC sucks.

Yes, you will probably get more notes on the first chapter of a series than the rest of your story, especially if you take a few weeks to update. It doesn't mean that your series is less appreciated or is a disappointment.

Some characters or ships are less popular than others in a fandom. You will get less notes for them. It's normal, and again, it doesn't mean that your story is bad.

No, you don't have a psychic link to your computer that tells you if people liked your story without them actually telling you. I know you don't. But there are few people around here who seem to get that. So be patient. Be kind. And don't take it personally, because it's the same problem for everyone here.

Getting just a few notes does not mean that you are a bad writer. We are all struggling to get comments. You are a good writer, even if your story has just a few notes. I didn't get more than 30 notes on my last chapter for my Dr Who fic. My Rose Tico fic struggled to get 10 notes. One of my Poe fic reached 650 notes. There is not always a logic. Do not let the number of notes describe you as a writer. You are a good writer. Getting just a few notes must not stop you from writing. It's not because you don't get many notes that you are not skilled at writing.

 4. Make life easy for your readers: make a masterlist and some taglists

 Make a taglist where you can store the url of people who want to follow your stories. Keep it organized. If you write for several characters/fandom, accept to make different taglists for each character/fandom, and if you are brave enough, for individual stories as well. These people want to follow what you write, so it takes a little time to you, but people that are tagged might read your story more easily and not miss an update.

You can also add links to the previous part of a series or a link to your masterlist in a text post. I don't do it, because I reckon that my masterlist is pretty easy to navigate through, plus, I'm lazy as fuck… but you can be better than me and do it.

Make a masterlist that can be open on mobile. Lots of people (me included) read fanfics in the bus, or during breaks at work, or when they travel… and they don’t have a computer then. So, if you want them to find your stories on mobile, you will have to make a masterlist that they can open on the app. We will take all the steps to create such masterlist one by one. Perhaps there is an easier way to do it, but no one ever told me how to make a masterlist, and that's the only way I found by myself, so I can't help you more than that I'm afraid. If you can't do it that way, ask me for help or ask another fanfic writer who has a link to her/his masterlist in the blog description and try the method he/she used.

To create your masterlist:

1. Create the text post that will become your masterlist. Nothing more than a very normal text post, and publish it on your blog. On this post, you will put your stories and the links leading to them.

2. Open this brand new post and copy the full name of the page in the toolbar at the top of your screen (the full https://ww.tumblr.com/... thing)

3. Go in the settings of your blog and choose the edit appearance menu (the same that you used to decorate your blog and make it pretty).

4. Choose the 'edit theme' menu (website theme section). You arrive in the edit theme page where you can change the theme for your blog, the colours…

5. In the first section called 'appearance options', you can enter the title of your blog, a short description of your blog and choose your avatar. This section also holds the information that are showed on the app. It is in this 'Description' section that we will put the link to your masterlist.

6. In the description, after you've added the text that you wanted, you will have to enter the whole bit of coding that I am writing here. It will allow you to put a link to your masterlist using the link you've copied to a word written in the description. So, you have to write : <b><a href="Insert the link to your masterlist here "> Enter the name of your link here</a></b>

You have to paste the link you have copied in the bit that I have written in italic. The part written in bold is where you type the words that will appear in your description for the link (I stayed traditional, and wrote Masterlist, for example).

7. Don't forget to save your changes, and in theory, if you go to the page of your own blog, the link has appeared in your description, and when you click on it, you have access to your Masterlist!

After that, it's up to you to keep your masterlist updated! If possible, try to make a masterlist as soon as you start writing (or as soon as you have read this post and realized that you desperately needed that damn masterlist), and try to update it everytime you post a new story, or else you might forget a post, or look through your own blog for a while to find the right post again.

Some people use a tag system instead of a masterlist. I find it less reliable. Everything is in your masterlist, I find it easier for readers to find stories and navigate through your writing. But then, it's up to you. I can't help you with the tag system though, as I don’t use it.

Also, do not hesitate to reblog your fics a couple of times after you've posted them. It's not just about promoting your own work, but you have followers from all around the world. When it's night for you, it's the middle of the day for some of them. So reblogging your story to make sure that every time zone has a chance to see it is actually for your followers, not for yourself.

 5. Requests are open, but not everything is okay

 An advantage of tumblr for both readers and writers is that requests are so easy to make. For readers, it's wonderful because someone else is going to write a story they are dreaming of but can't write themselves. For writers, it might stir your imagination and make you think of new stories that would have never crossed your mind otherwise.

Now, that being said, as a writer, you have the right to refuse a request. Do not feel guilty about it. This idea doesn't ring a bell? It sounds weird? You just don't like it? Then refuse it. Stay kind with the person who requested it, but refuse. You are the one who is going to spend hours and hours bringing this story to life, you need to like the idea that is proposed to you.

Make sure that all the requests that you have accepted are either in your askbox, or in a google doc, or in a note book… but anyway, all at the same place. It's easier to go through them all when you are looking for something to write then.

You do not have to write them in a specific order. Don't feel guilty for writing a request straight after receiving it when another one has been sitting in your askbox for several weeks. Your imagination is not something that works on demand. Write what inspires you the most, and if a request that you like doesn't inspire you enough to write it for now, then wait, until it inspires you enough to write it.

Most people open their requests and close them once they have received a few. Then they write them all, and re-open the requests later. It's a very good way to do it and to keep control on your requests.

Me? My requests are always open. Why? Because, if a new follower of mine wants to ask for me to write something, I want this person to have the opportunity to ask. Also, if someone just has a wonderful new idea, I want this person to be able to send a request too. It's one way to do it. Then, you will drown in an ocean of requests that you will never be able to get out of. But as long as you accept the fact and warn your followers that their request will take a long time to be written, I reckon it's pretty fair too.

Never feel obliged to open requests. If you don't feel like it, then don't. You are the one who will have to write the whole thing, don't do it if you don't want to.

Do not imagine that the person who sent you a request will leave you a nice comment to thank you. It is extremely rare. Especially for anons. Here again, don't take it personally, it's not about you, you didn't screw up their request, it's just that no one receives this kind of message.

I remember an anon who asked me to make a part 2 to a request that I had written for her/him. And so I asked in my answer to his/her message if he/she liked the first part. He/she said 'Well, of course I liked it! It was wonderful!'

But dear anon, if you don't tell me that you enjoyed the story that I wrote for you, I actually can't know that you liked it…

But dear writer, if you never hear of this anon who sent a request ever again, it's not about you, I'm pretty sure this anon loved your story. He/she just assumes that you know how brilliant you are. Here is the misunderstanding between readers and writers.

 Right, now, let's get to the writing stuff…

 6. Experiment, experiment, experiment and experiment again

 Especially if you are starting to write fanfics, you will need to find out the best process that fits your personality to write. There is no magical way to do things that will suddenly makes it easy for you to write, and writing keeps on evolving as you grow as a person and also in skills. Don't expect a nice little thing you will do to pass the time. If you really get involved in it, writing is tough. Writing is crying on your own as you write a sad scene. Writing is spending hours looking for tiny details and vocabulary to make sure that you are accurate. Writing is forgetting a thousand plot twists between the moment when you are under your shower and you sit down to write. Writing is waking up at three in the morning to write because you suddenly had the best idea ever.

You will suffer. But you will also find the most addicting feeling that exists in this world, if you manage to completely lose yourself in your story. Bye bye debts, responsibilities, family problems, work… if you manage to get to the orgasmic trance of writing, you will forget the whole world, and get lost in your story. And that is worth everything that makes the life of a fanfic writer shitty.

As I mentioned, to get to this fabulous state of mind, there is no perfect recipe. Because it's different for everyone. You need to try different things to find out which process fits you best. So here are a few things that you should try:

- Try to write different types of stories : adventure, angst, fluff, AU… you will find out that there is a kind of writing that you like the most. For me, it's mainly fluff, with some angst to get it tastier…

-Try both reader inserts and OCs. Both have advantages and drawbacks. You can write both. I do write both. Sometimes though, if you have a very clear idea of your character, it's better to make an OC. For a short one-shot, reader insert is much simpler, and will allow you to not spend two bloody hours looking for a name for your character…

-Try to write with 'I', 'you', 'he/she'… You will soon find one that fits you better. Personally, I hate that bloody 'I' for example.

- Try different tenses. Some people prefer to write using present, others past tenses. It's up to you, just try to be consistent once you've settled for one, or it can be quite confusing.

-Try to plan a story, and try not to plan a story. Some writers need to have the skeleton of the story already written down before really writing the whole thing. Try to make little notes on the characters you create then too. Personally, I can't do that. I hate planning fics. I just write the first things that come to my mind. Do not be ashamed of either process, they are both valid, and trust me, they will both get you to writing full fics. My longest fics are more than 500 to 800 pages long. 0 planning. It works for some people. A friend of mine is unable to start a fic if he doesn't know every single plot twist in it. It just depends on how your brain works. Try to apply both techniques, you'll quickly find out that one is better for you than the other, or perhaps you'll just plan a few things but not everything... it's up to you.

Finding your process of writing is personal. That being said, don't hesitate to ask for advices to writers that you like. You can ask for people you trust to read your fic before posting it as well, you can get good advices then.

 7. Make sure your comfy

 No matter for how long you plan on writing, make sure you are comfortable. In your bed, at your desk, outside… write where you are comfortably sitting/lying down. Take your favourite candies, keep a bottle of water and some coffee/tea near at hand. If it helps, turn on the music. Make playlists for writing with your favourite songs. You will have to experiment the effect of music on your writing too: with music, without music, with lyrics, without lyrics… here again, it's up to you.

Make sure you have the internet too. Because you will often need to check a random fact about the world you're writing about, or some vocabulary… or because after a little while you won't be focused anymore, and you'll probably end up reading fanfics on tumblr before getting back to writing, so be already prepared.

 8. Find your own pace

 I am here talking to fanfiction writers. We are not paid for our writing. We have no deadlines. Therefore, there is no rush. I think that the worst advice that I have ever seen for writers was a post that explained how to write a thousand words a day. Basically, it was explaining that you had to force yourself to, step by step, increase the number of words you would write before stopping and doing something else. To me, this is the WORST ADVICE EVER!!!

DO NOT FORCE YOURSELF TO WRITE!!!

You are spreading love about characters for free, the last thing you want is pressure coming from it! If you force yourself, you'll start not enjoying it, and that's the last thing you want, trust me.

Here again, you have to experiment. Perhaps you are the kind of person who writes a paragraph every day. Perhaps you only write once a week but then you vomit ten pages in one sitting. Perhaps you write once in a while. Perhaps you are like me and can't go to sleep without having written at least 1000 to 2000 words that night. It depends. Do not force yourself to write. You will find your own rhythm. You just need time to find it. Just write when you want to for as long as you want to.

Also, do not rush your brain to create a story, especially for complex stories like series. Some people are fast, between the moment they have the idea for the fic and when they actually write it. But some people need to think about this idea for a while. Personally, 90% of the time, an idea is going to be brewing in my brain for days, weeks, sometimes months or years before I write it down. It's okay, take your time.

An advice to writers with minds twirling with ideas constantly like me: if you have so many ideas, some will be better than others. Wait for a bit then. Some of these ideas will disappear by themselves after a few days or weeks. Write the ones that remained in your brain, no matter if you waited. They are the best ones you came up with. Write the ones that you still have in your head a month later.

Your pace will also determine how often you post your fics, obviously. Do not put any pressure on yourself to write faster because you haven't posted any story in several days. Take the time you need to finish your story. Take your time. You're in no rush. No matter if people are asking you to update soon, you're the one who's writing the damn thing, so go to your own pace.

Wisdom would make me tell you to try to focus on one story at a time. But wisdom is not a fanfic writer. If you have checked my blog, you know that I write many series simultaneously. It's just because my brain is unable to focus on only one story at a time. So I just start many. If you feel like you need to finish this story before starting a new one, then finish it first. But if you feel obsessed with this new idea, let it out and put it down on paper. It won't leave unless you write it anyway, so better get rid of it before it drives you nuts. Here again, updates for new chapters and beginning of new series must be done at your own pace.

Also, wisdom would make me tell you to finish a story before posting it. But wisdom has much more self-control than I do. You don't have to wait to have finished the whole series to post the first part, unless it works better for you. Once again, your own pace.

If you are facing a writer's block and you need some time away from writing, do not feel guilty about taking that time. Take a few days, a few weeks, a few months if necessary, until you can go back to your story. You can also try to write for new characters/fandoms, sometimes it helps, but sometimes you just need time. So do yourself a favour, and take it.

 9. Your story, your words

 How many posts did I see on this hellsite telling you to not use 'say', to not use this type of words, but rather that type of words…

Do yourself a favour. Write whatever you want.

If a word exists, it's because it describes something. An emotion, an action… and if you need to describe that precise thing, then use the damn word for it. And use 'say' as many times as you want.

There is no stupid reaction for your character. I do giggle in real life. I do blush a lot. I do cry easily. I do feel better around some people for no logical reason. Do not listen to the cynical bunch of fake intellectuals who are pretending that these actions don't exist. They do. You can describe them the way you like. And if you want your character to smirk, then make that boy smirk.

You have to apprehend writing like a freedom. There is no one controlling you when you write a fanfiction. There are no standards to respect, no limits to your imagination. You can use any word that you may like. You can write the stories that you want, the way you want to.

There's no need to aim for a vocabulary that you don't master. Especially if you don't write in your native language (like me). You can use a few fancy words, but sometimes it'll be clearer with a vocabulary that is considered like simpler. There's no reason to overdo it.

Try to include both descriptions and dialogues in your work. Dialogues are dynamic, they carry a lot of weight in your narration. They are also very important to carry emotions. But you also need descriptions to get the reader in a certain atmosphere, and to make the actions clearer. If a character picks up a knife, but you have never indicated that he was in a kitchen, it may be a bit confusing. But then, the balance between descriptions and dialogues depends on you, here again, no magic recipe. Just try to get both in your story, you'll find out that it'll be easier to carry out emotions and to make the plot advance then.

Ha, and one more thing, because I said that it was your story. There is nothing wrong in writing a very bold fic with an idea you've never seen anywhere before. But there is nothing wrong either in using a popular AU, a popular idea, a popular OC… there is nothing wrong with that. Because no one has ever written that AU the way you are going to write it. So write it. With your own plot twists, and your own words, and your own feelings. Do you know how many coffeeshop AUs I have read? I have lost count. Do I still want to read more? Yes, please. Because it's cute, and I want cute. How many readers were made a fellow pilot in the resistance and fall in love with Poe Dameron? Here again, I have lost count. Do I still want to read more about that? Yes, please, I do, bring me the angst and the fluff! And please, write it, because I've never read this story written by you, and I want to read it.

 And now, my last piece of advice for this very long post, but the most important piece of advice that I can give you:

 10. If you do not like tips, do not take tips.

 Tips are written by people who have one way to look at a problem. They look at the problem, and they find a solution (sometimes, I am not even sure that they have faced the problem themselves to be honest…). But it is the solution that would fit them, not fit you. Now, you may come across some advices that are very good for you and help you get better at writing. Then cherish these pieces of advice and use them. But if you realize that an advice is not working for you, then leave it behind and try something else. Writing is too personal to have golden rules that need to be followed to reach your goal. It's a slow process. You will never stop learning and improving. Here again, try to experiment the advices that seem interesting to you. Abandon the ones that don't fit your personality.

I have never followed a single advice that I have seen on this website. I write rarely less than 2000 words a day. Not respecting tips that you encounter does not mean that you are a bad writer, or that you'll never manage to finish a story. It just means that you don't write like the person who gathered these advices does. And there's nothing to feel guilty about. You are still a valid writer, you are still creating amazing stories, your process to do it all is just different.

Writing will bring you such a feeling of freedom, do not let yourself be trapped in stupid rules that someone else invented out of the blue.

 And if nothing that I've written helps you, then it's okay. It just means that we don't see the same thing in writing, and we don't write the same way. But you're still amazingly talented, and I think I'm not that bad either. Just enjoy writing. Enjoy sharing your stories. Enjoy reading the stories that are shared by other fantastic writers that we are lucky to have around here. Just enjoy it all, and be kind, to both others and yourself.

[dreamingoffairys]

Teardrops & Coffee Chapter 8 (Stingue)

Okay, okay, I know, I know. You're all screaming at me. I'm aware I've sucked at keeping an update schedule. I'm totally awful I'm sooo sorry. The good news is I got a lot of new ideas now, so updates will be faster by a lot! (HUUUGE THANK YOU TO @little-miss-heartfillia WHO HELPED ME GET INSPIRED! THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO YOU!)

In case you forgot what happened last time, Rogue asked Sting out for dinner, so this is going to be their... "date", if you can call it that, heehee...

Speaking of the previous chapters! PLEASE RE-READ CHAPTER 6 UNLESS THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME READING THROUGH THIS FIC! I edited a bunch of stuff there because before it was far too dramatic and over-the-top for a mutual pining college au fanfic.

Okay I'm done babbling now! I hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter, and I realllly hope it was worth the wait (it's over 4k words just for you guys!). 

Please reblog with nice tags, leave a reply, shoot me an ask, or message me! I’d love to hear what you think, it’s your kindness that keeps me going and keeps me inspired, and that’s why I came back to this fic at all.❤️❤️

AO3 LINK HERE

Sting's hands won’t stop sweating. He adjusts the collar of his dress shirt for the fifth time, still wondering if it is a bad idea to wear pink. He is also wearing eyeliner, which makes his deep blue irises pop, however gives him an edge. The gel in his hair is a bit shiny, which ends up also being a cause for concern. In fact, everything in Sting’s outfit is stressing him out. He has to look perfect for his first date with the guy of his dreams… Well, first not-date-that-is-probably-a-date. But that’s close enough for Sting. He is willing to take whatever he can get with Rogue.

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of a knock on his door, adjusting his collar one final time before dashing to get it. He throws open the door, beaming and trying to hide his extreme nerves. “H-Hi Rogue! R-Right on time, I see!” Sting laughs nervously, hoping that Rogue didn’t notice Sting isn’t ready.

Rogue smiles back politely. He is dressed in a black collared shirt with a gray sweater vest over it, his hair tied back into a neat ponytail. Sting’s knees were ready to melt from underneath him: Rogue really does dress like one of those stereotypical hot nerds.

Rogue looks at Sting with kind eyes, “You look really nice.”

“Th-Thanks,” Sting laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was worried the pink would be a little bit...much...but uh...I did it anyways.” Why can’t I ever stop talking around him? I keep making a fool of myself!

“I think it suits you,” Rogue compliments Sting with ease. Sting has to replay Rogue’s words three times in his head before comprehending him, nodding quickly as a hot blush spreads across his cheeks. However, the soaring movement his heart made drops when Rogue speaks up again, “However...where are your shoes?”

Sting looks down at his feet and finds only the cuff of his crisp skinny jeans and one white sock. The shy blush turns to embarrassment, holding in a yelp as he rushes back into the dorm room, “Ah! Sorry! I somehow...forgot! Be right back!” Dying of shame, Sting pulls on his shoes and left sock and rushes back out to meet Rogue. “S-Sorry.”

Rogue laughs, “Not a problem.” He takes a step back, “After you.”

Sting exits his dorm room and shuts the door, shaking slightly with every step. They walk in silence for a long moment, the hallways filled with tiny bits of noise that keep it from being too awkward. However, once they reach the elevator and the doors close, the quiet is no longer acceptable. Sting knows he has to make his move. “So, where exactly are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Rogue replies with a smug smile, wanting to keep Sting in the dark for as long as possible.

“Oh, okay, cool,” Sting nods, heart sinking. Shit. There goes my conversation topic. What do I do now? Quick! Think of something! “Uhm...you look really uhm…” Fuck… “...fantastic.” Does that sound too gay? Shit! I should’ve said uh...no...that wouldn’t have been much better either.

Rogue laughs, smiling with his teeth, “Thanks. You do too. I really like the eyeliner. It makes your eyes really stand out.”

“That’s what I was going for,” Sting says hastily, trying to hide another round of blushing. He runs his fingers through his gelled hair, hopefully not messing it up. The door to the elevator finally opens with a loud DING, and Sting watches as Rogue exits without fault. Sting tries to copy him, but instead stumbles over his own feet. He laughs to himself out of nerves, hoping Rogue didn’t see. Thankfully, he didn’t...either that, or he just pretended not to notice for Sting’s pride’s sake.

Rogue leads Sting out to his car, climbing into the driver’s seat, then waiting with a smile as Sting sits shotgun. “Music, Sting?” Rogue asks, reaching for the stereo. “I’ve got mostly classical, but if you’d like something else, I’ve got an AUX cord for your phone…”

“N-No, classical is fine!” Sting stammers, despite not liking classical much. His music taste is pop that good for dancing to or scream singing at the top of his lungs. Not very attractive. So instead, he leans back against the seat and listens to a song with some string instruments as Rogue drove them down the road to wherever they were going. The car ride is awkwardly silent, but Rogue didn’t seem to mind, smiling and listening to the music with a small smile.

Finally, Rogue pulls up in front of an Italian restaurant, one known for being nice without being too expensive. Rogue parks, turning to Sting with that cute little smile again. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect!” Sting says in a rush, starting to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I’ve never been here but I’ve heard good things about it.”

Rogue steps out of the car, then moves to Sting’s door. He offers Sting his hand, and the blond takes it, blushing brightly. “I’m glad then that I get to take you for the first time.”

The two of them approach the double glass doors of the restaurant, Rogue holding the door for Sting yet again, making Sting feel kind of like a dick. Rogue is being quite the gentleman, and what’d he done? Showed up to the door with no shoes, tripped over himself, didn’t make very good conversation…he really didn’t deserve Rogue.

“Table for two?” asks the hostess, grabbing two menus.

“Yes, please,” Rogue replies, smiling at Sting. Sting’s heart skips a beat. He’s so handsome.

The hostess nods, “Right this way.” She leads them through the restaurant, giving Sting a moment to take in their surroundings. The smooth marble floor, etched wood walls, lots of flowers, soft jazzy piano music, candle-like lighting…it felt very romantic. This had to be a date…right?

They reach a polished table with two plush red booths on either side, the table tucked in a corner away from most of the noise. The hostess sets down the menus on the table, and Sting and Rogue slide into the booth across from each other. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” says Sting, trying to be polite since so far he’s been nothing but an annoyance.

Once she leaves, Rogue’s attention turns to Sting. He doesn’t even open his menu, watching as Sting opens his and starts to scour the specials. “Sting?”

“Hm?” Sting hums, eyeing a fancy-sounding sandwich. Grilled tomato, chèvre, thyme baguette… What the hell is chèvre? How do you even pronounce that? Is there even meat in this damn thing?

“Are you willing to let me surprise you with something?” Rogue drums his fingers on the polished table. “There’s something here I really enjoy, and I think you’d like it too.”

Sting looks over the menu, giving up on the stupid chèvre thing, and meets Rogue’s eyes. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“Like I said, it’s a surprise.” Rogue’s eyes twinkle playfully. “Do you trust me? I promise it’s not gross.”

Sting bites his lip in thought. Rogue didn’t know his food preferences all that well, so maybe it wouldn’t be something Sting would like… But on the flipside, if this is a date, and getting something together would be really romantic. “Uhhhh…”

Rogue chuckles softly, “Is that a yes?”

“You know what, what the hell,” Sting says, closing his menu and dropping it onto the table, cringing at the sound. “Might as well take a risk.”

“Great,” Rogue smiles. “You don’t have any allergies, right?”

“Just bees,” Sting says immediately without thinking. He watches as a smug smile starts to spread across Rogue’s face as he tries to hold back laughter. “What?!”

“Your name is Sting, and you’re allergic to bees?” Rogue snickers.

“Trust me, I’m aware of the irony,” Sting rolls his eyes. “I prefer to associate my name with like…the sword from Lord of the Rings, or the band from the guy that used to be with The Police.”

“You keep surprising me more and more,” Rogue rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I’m glad you and I are both nerdy people. I don’t know if I’d be able to stand you if you hated Lord of the Rings.”

“To be totally honest, I haven’t read the books,” Sting admits. “I started reading Fellowship and then there was like 60 fucking pages about the Sackville Bagginses or whatever and I got so bored and confused.”

Rogue laughs, “Yeah, the beginning of Fellowship is a real headache. Although the book does have some things the movies don’t that are fascinating.”

A young woman with purple hair walks up to them, holding a notepad. “Hi, my name is Laki, and I’ll be your waitress for tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

“Hey, Laki,” Rogue smiles. “I’ll take an iced tea.”

“Uhh…” Sting feels himself flush. He hadn’t gotten a chance to look at the drink menu, since Rogue had said he is going to order for both of them. “Err..what kind of drinks do you have?”

Laki smiles, but Sting still feels bad for asking. “Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Lemonade, Iced Tea, Raspberry Iced Tea-”

“I’ll just take a Coke,” Sting says hastily, not wanting to put the poor waitress through any more. “Thank you.”

Rogue looks at her, “Is it alright if we place our order now too? We’ll do the the Double Special.”

“Of course,” she smiles, jotting that down. “All set. I’ll be back with those drinks.” She turns and walks away, her heels clicking on the floor.

Sting flushes. A nice restaurant, alone with Rogue, sharing a meal… He had to ask, he had to know, he couldn’t sit here in confusion for any longer… He’s going to tell Rogue that he-

“So, Sting,” Rogue asks, cutting into Sting’s thoughts, not noticing Sting’s mental turmoil. “I was wondering something. You, of course, told me about your mom...but what about your dad? Do you get along with him?”

Sting starts for a moment, not prepared for Rogue to say anything. For a moment he mentally screams at himself for not speaking quickly enough, but then he registers the question in his head and feels a lot better. ‘This I can do! I love talking about my dad…’ Sting grins at Rogue happily, “Yeah! My dad’s the best. He’s super supportive of me, and he’s always been so much fun. We’ve played card games together since I was old enough to understand them, he taught me sports and a lot of stuff about computers, and we used to fix up the house together.” Sting feels a nostalgic smile cross his face. “Yeah...I love him a lot. Without him, I’d be so lost...he’s always been there for me, no matter what bullshit I was dealing with, you know?”

Rogue’s cheeks are lightly dusted with pink, eyes glued on Sting’s face. “That’s really wonderful. What kind of card games did you play?”

Sting rubs the back of his neck and looks away, embarrassed. “Errrr...well I mean, this was when I was a kid, but…I was...really into Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh.”

Rogue chuckles softly, “No need to be shy about it. Gajeel loved Pokemon too, though he’ll never admit it.” Rogue shrugs, “I read books more than I played games, but I played a little Pokemon with him. My favorite was always...I think its name is Umbreon?”

“The Dark Type Eeveelution,” Sting blurts out, then turns redder. “Uhm...b-but yeah, that’s right.” He looks down at his lap, his ears burning. Oh, damn. Now I look like a child.

Rogue laughs a bit louder, “Yeah, that one. Which one was your favorite?”

Sting shifts in his seat, anxiety clawing at his throat. Why is this making him so nervous? “Dratini… It’s so cute, and so is Dragonair, and then Dragonite is really strong…” He blushes darker. “Yeah…”

“Here’s your drinks,” Laki walks up to the table and sets down their drinks and their waters. “Your food will be out shortly. Anything else you need?”

Courage. The ability to flirt. Some answers. “Err, nope!” Sting laughs. “I’m all good.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Rogue smiles at her, and she nods and walks away.

Sting’s chest feels tight. Here’s another chance. “S-So…” he manages to say, then shuts his mouth as the panic sets in. ‘I...I can’t do it. I can’t ask. If he says no it’ll be so embarrassing...especially with everything he’s told me…!’

“So?” Rogue replies, that smile still on his face, but this time the look is more than just polite. There’s admiration in his eyes, warm and kind, enjoying himself in Sting’s presence.

Sting studies Rogue’s face. Fuck. His one visible shining red eye, his silky black hair, that warm smile… Rogue almost seems like he’s glowing. Sting had to ask him. He had to tell Rogue how he felt. He couldn’t afford to lose this...Rogue is too special.

And so….he takes a deep breath, and blurts out, “Rogue, is this a date?”

Sting’s heart leaps into his throat. He actually said it! After all this time of nerves and shit, and he’d just blurted it out effortlessly! Why had he been so afraid before?

He watches as Rogue’s mouth curls into a wider smile, a blush on his cheeks. He still looks like he’s glowing...how beautiful . “Of course it is. I really have fallen for you, Sting. You’re my everything. I’d love to date you.”

“You would?” Sting squeaks, his heart pounding. ‘Ohgod it’s happening-!’

“Huh?” Rogue looks at Sting in confusion, his voice sounding different all of a sudden, the glow completely gone, “I would what?”

It is then that Sting realized he’d completely imagined that scenario. Thanks to his nerves, he’d started daydreaming about what he wished could happen. He sighs, feeling ashamed and deflated. “Nevermind…” he mumbles, reaching up for his drink and sipping it. The bubbles tickle his tongue, and the sweetness is almost overpowering.

When Rogue frowns, Sting feels like his heart shatters. “Are you sure..? It seemed like what you wanted to say was important…”

“Forget it,” Sting takes another sip of his drink, then forces a smile. “I just forgot what I was gonna say. It’s not a big deal.”

Rogue drinks a bit of iced tea, then sighs softly. “If you say so…”

Sting bites his lip, but before he can try and make up something to ease Rogue’s worries (or at least thank him for being concerned), Laki walks over with a covered tray. She smiles at them both, setting the platter onto the table and uncovering it, revealing a huge bowl of pasta accompanied by two pieces of garlic bread. “Carbonara for two?”

Sting has no idea what the heck carbonara is, but it looks tasty, and the smell makes his stomach growl. He pushes aside the fact that they’re splitting a bowl just like in the romantic movies for a moment and instead leans forward to smell it.

Rogue smiles up at Laki, still looking at Sting out of the corner of his eye. “Thank you so much.”

“Enjoy,” Laki replies, then walks away, her heels clicking on the fancy floor.

“Sooo...what exactly is it?” Sting asks, grabbing his garlic bread first. “I mean, besides pasta, obviously.”

Rogue grabs his fork and twirls it. “Carbonara is a pasta dish with egg, pecorino romano cheese, pork, and pepper.” He lifts it up towards his mouth and grins. “And it’s one of my favorites.”

Sting makes a mental note of that as Rogue takes a bite: spaghetti, egg, some cheese, pepper, and pork...okay! He takes a big bite of his garlic bread, then sits it back down on the plate. “Sounds delicious.” He grabs his own fork and twirls it the way Rogue did (or at least, attempts to, as he has do it a couple times before getting it right) and then lifts it to his mouth and takes a huge bite. He feels like his taste buds are exploding as a wonderful flavor touches his tongue. “Mmmm…oh man, that’s-” Suddenly realizing he is talking with his mouth full, he blushes and swallows hard. “Ahem. It’s really good.”

Rogue laughs, and Sting realizes he isn’t grossed out by his bad manners. “Isn’t it? It’s fairly easy to make, too. There’s some really easy recipes online. I’ve made it a couple of times just in the dorm kitchen. I always ended up splitting it with people because they all loved it so much, haha.”

I would love to try yours… Sting thinks dreamily. If there is one thing that he loved more than attractive guys, it is attractive guys who could cook. Instead of voicing that thought, he shoves more of the pasta into his mouth, relieved that he now had an excuse to be quiet. He’d already chickened out twice on asking Rogue if this is a date...maybe a little bit of silence to think would help.

Rogue twists the pasta around his fork slowly, that same endearing smile still on his lips. “I’m glad you like it. I was a bit worried you wouldn’t care for it and then wouldn’t have a good time. A risk I’m glad I took, I suppose.”

But why did you take it? Sting wonders silently. Is it because it’s a date and you wanted to be romantic? Or were you trying to impress me or something? Because you don’t have to...I was impressed the moment I laid eyes on you. In comparison, I’m kind of a nobody… If anything, I should be working on impressing you.

For a moment, Sting could’ve sworn he saw Rogue blush, but it fades as soon as it appeared. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep talking at you while you were trying to eat.”

Sting swallows and finally finds his voice right as Rogue takes another bite. “Rogue, you’re fine. I like hearing what you have to say. You’re interesting, and funny.” Wow, that was stupid.

Rogue coughs slightly, then swallows his pasta. “You think so?” Sting nods quickly in response, and Rogue reaches for his iced tea. “Thanks, Sting. I appreciate it.”

Sting blushes again. “Mhm!” he manages to say with a mouth full of pasta, then scarfs more down.

The two of them are then silent until the plate is completely clear, both of them having ate their fill on pasta and bread. Their drinks are almost empty as well, as they are both broke college students and don’t like being wasteful.

Eventually, Laki comes with the check. “Here’s your bill,” she says, placing it on the edge of the table. “Thank you so much for dining with us tonight.”

As she walks away, Rogue reaches for the check holder, and Sting has to scramble, “W-Wait, shouldn’t we split the bill?”

Rogue looks Sting right in the eyes, “Well...I thought I’d pay, since I invited you…”

Sting’s heart skips a beat. He isn’t quite sure how the whole stupid, heteronormative “the man pays to be a gentleman on the first date” thing works for gay couples, but to him this seemed like Rogue is implying it is a date. Should I ask…? Say that if he considers it a date he can pay? Or would it be nice to offer to pay for myself? What do I do?

“Uhhhhmmm…” is all Sting can bring himself to say, his palms starting to sweat. He watches helplessly as Rogue reads the bill, then slips their debit card into the check holder and places it back on the edge of the table. Too late now…

He finds that he feels guilty about it when Laki picks it back up to swipe the card, so he mumbles out, “I can pay you back…”

“No,” Rogue leans forward a bit. “There’s no need, Sting. It’s my treat.”

What does that MEAN? Sting screams mentally, but has no time to ask because Laki returns at that exact moment. Damn! It seemed like the whole damn world is against him getting to speak his mind.

Rogue retrieves his debit card, then stands up and looks at Sting. “Ready to go?”

“Where?” Sting asks, joining Rogue on his feet. Realizing that was a stupid question (aka, one that implied they were going somewhere other than back to the dorms), Sting quickly tacks on, “A-Ah, sorry, I’m tired.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could take a walk in the nearby park?” Rogue suggests as they walk out of the restaurant together. “It’s a nice night, and I wanted to talk to you for a little bit longer.”

“About…?” Sting asks, having trouble breathing. The world felt like it was spinning underneath his feet, and he swore Rogue could hear his heart beating.

Instead of answering, Rogue leads Sting down the block to a nice park with a sparkling water fountain, beautiful rose bushes, carved wooden benches, and a few tall oak trees. The ground underneath their feet is brown and red patterned stone, but nearby are numerous patches of soft green grass dotted with wildflowers starting to close for the night. The cool night air blows Sting and Rogue’s hair in front of their faces, and the light of the setting sun bathes them in a soft gold glow. The water of the fountain reflects the pink, orange sky streaked with thin white clouds, almost like something out of a painting.

All of Sting’s nerves vanish. There is nothing to interrupt them now. The moment is so...perfect. It feels like something out of a romance movie...a love confession at sunset in front of a fountain, surrounded by roses...yes. He felt certain now that this is a date, and that any moment now, Rogue is going to confess his feelings for Sting. Finally, the uncertainty, the fear, the nerves, the anxiety...it will all come to an end.

“Sting.” Rogue’s hair blows away from his face, showing off both of his narrow, shining red eyes, looking at Sting with admiration. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Sting’s heart beats a mile a minute, and he’s sure there’s a stupid, lovesick grin on his face. “Y-Yeah...what is it?”

Rogue opens his mouth when suddenly his phone buzzes in his pocket. Rogue groans and digs his hand into his pocket, “Dammit, hold on a second.” Frowning, Rogue pulls his phone out and looks at it. Sting watches as Rogue’s face goes from annoyed to shocked, then texts something quickly. “Shit. Shit shit shit !” He looks up at Sting, concern written all over his face. “I…I’m so sorry, I have to go. Right now. Thanks for coming, I had fun, I’ll see you soon!”

With that, Rogue shoves his phone into his pocket and takes off down the sidewalk.

Sting’s heart shatters. “W-WAIT, ROGUE, HOLD ON-! YOU DROVE ME HERE!” he screams, starting to chase after him. He suddenly realizes he has no idea where Rogue went, and by the time he remembers what street they came from, it’s too late… Rogue’s car speeds by the sidewalk, way over the speed limit, and disappears around the corner.

Tears fill Sting’s eyes as emotions flood through him all at once. Heartbreak, anger, desperation...until it all finally resolves in pure, unrestrained hysteria. “FUCK YOU, ROGUE!” he screams, stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!”

Sobbing uncontrollably, Sting storms back over towards the fountain, his legs too weak to stand for much longer. As he collapses onto a bench, he realizes everything around him that once seemed so perfect and beautiful looks absolutely sickening now. The roses slowly closing seem to taunt him, as if reminding him that all good things must eventually come to an end. The sound of the sparkling water fountain as it bubbles and spills into the basin sounds like his tears splashing down his cheeks. The tall oak trees bend and creak in the wind, as if mocking his own fragile state. Even the sunset, once romantic and hopeful, now fades into black.

Defeated and drowning, Sting puts his head in his hands and curls into himself. He sits there too broken to move until the final beam of sunlight disappears from the sky, then picks himself up and takes the long walk of shame home, swallowed up by the night.

[the-three-eyed-ravenclaw]

Of Monsters & Men - Pt. 2

Part One  |  Part Two (you are here)

Alright so I finally got around to proofing this. Wow. So. Many. Errors. And half the shit was confusing and unnecessary. I also saw that I had out my own name in where it was supposed to be Y/N like what the fuck? I am sorry for that mess, I have heavily edited this part so if you are going to read the next part I would reread this one. 

Hope you enjoy!

Below are some choreography videos for the two songs that the reader dances to. These are somewhat what I imagined for these scenes. Also Below are links to the songs mentioned in the fic.

Havana

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUEU-dVUjVQ starting at 2:43

Desperado

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xyn8Go4frQ

Okay so it’s like 5 in the morning and I have been working on this for 6 hours straight. I am going cross-eyed. This has been very briefly proofed, so if there are any errors, I’ll fix them in the morning! (or really afternoon cuz my ass ain’t waking up till about 2 pm)

Anyways, here is part 2. I hadn’t planned on this part being so long, but it just came out of me as I was writing. This part is gonna be kind of boring because it the readers point of view of part 1 and it also has a lot of back story. so please hang in there. 

As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. If you like this story let me know! I plan on this being a multi-part fic, but if no one likes it then I won’t continue it.

Songs mentioned in the story are

Havana by Camila Cabello

Desperado by Rihanna

Finesse Remix by Bruno Mars

Someone mentioned that the pictures were distracting last time so i left them out this time round. Except the one ben barnes gif. I mean who doesn’t want at least one of those? Especially when its one of him being so sexually aggressive. :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Length: Almost 7,000 (hot damn)

Warnings: Cussing, sexual situations, innuendos, bad writing and grammar? fucking sue me

Your eyes scan the vivacious dance floor. There was always something you felt that was extremely freeing being a nameless face in the crowd. You could be anyone and no one, but tonight you were someone. Tonight you had a name, Rachel Manafor. Rachel was a young entrepreneur who came out to simply enjoy a night at one of the most popular clubs in New York. Gotta hand it to the case worker who constructed this identity. They had made the cover air tight. If anyone wanted to check up on you, you were covered.

You sighed as you resisted the urge to scratch your scalp. You never were one for wearing wigs. Honestly, I don’t know how Nat handles this. The woman has more missions that she goes undercover for than Kellogg’s has cornflakes. I’ve only had this wig on for three hours and I am ready to strangle something. Your eyes continue scanning the crowd. You clock all the visible exits making sure there aren’t any unforeseen obstacles that could have popped up in the last 10 minutes.

You take note of the Anvil security stationed at the visible exits. Ah, your target must have finally arrived. You look for him on the dance floor and at the bar, but you don’t see him. Since the babysitters are here, he must be close by or on his way. They are probably here to secure the building first. Alright, time for momma to go to work. Get ready boys.

You start making your rounds of the club, checking out the formation of the security and their station points. Dancing your way across the dance floor isn’t easy. The crowd is packed in so tightly that it’s hard to even breathe. You wonder how anyone is able to move in this, but soon realize that the crowd’s dancing is more of a going-with-the-flow-of-shoving-and-pushing-lest-you-get-elbowed-in-the-face rather than actual dancing. However, you are finally able to complete three circuits of the club and feel that you have successfully mapped out the room and the security detail. Only one guard posted at each exit? Whoever’s in charge really underestimates who all is coming for this guy and the power and resources they possess. Well, I’m not gonna complain. Makes my job a helluva lot easier.

With the first step of your mission complete, it was time to start the second step, locate the target.

Speak of the Devil… Aldrich had finally entered the club. It had taken a lot of cashing in IOUs to find where your target would be and when he would be there. You had been saving a lot of those favors for a rainy day, but when SHIELD said jump…

As you watch Aldrich immediately head towards the bar, you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated grumble. The little shit was over two hours later than planned, but you know, spilled milk and all that. Your mission was still on track, and that was all that really mattered. You’ll live. Even with that mentality, you lamented over the date night you had made with your bathtub. So much for me time, and I was so excited about that new bathbomb, too. Mr. Darcy, I hope you’ll wait for me. Box of wine, I’ll miss… who am I kidding? I’ll still smash you when I get home. Dear Lord, I am having full conversations in my head now. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe I do need to see a shrink. With your internal monologue mostly over, you start to plan your next move.

You notice that Aldrich brought an additional entourage of bodyguards, not just the ones stationed at the exits. Well at least the guy in charge wasn’t a total imbecile. You watch the group of men disperse amongst the crowd. However, one man sticks close to the target. Must be close guard tonight. You check the man out. Your eyes appreciating the masterpiece in front of you. No doubt this was the infamous William Russo. So, the gossip was right for once, man he is fucking beautiful. Nat, I’ll never doubt you again.

Russo had been on SHIELD’s radar for a few months now. How could he not be? Some Jarhead fresh out of the military, without a penny to his name, suddenly becomes a multi-millionaire in a few short years? That’s definitely some shady shit right there. Hell, the guy drives a fuckin’ Wraith… in New York…. Like what the actual fuck?  You watch Billy remove his leather jacket, revealing the form fitting sweater he wore underneath and you bite your lip. Have mercy.

You shake your head back and forth trying to refocus. Okay enough about tall, dark and handsome. Time to find out where the other Anvil dicks got off too. You look at the beer that some random dude had bought you on your last circuit of the club. He was no doubt hoping to make you feel like you owed him in some sort of sexual favor. Fucking cunt. With that thought, you chug the remaining liquid and slam it on the nearest table, making your way back onto the dance floor.

While maneuvering your way through the crowd, you spot three additional guards amongst the partiers. Their just-a-little-too-stiff dance moves and their constant glancing over their shoulders singled them out as Billy’s men. Oh, and also because they kept talking into their sleeves every two fucking minutes. Real inconspicuous. You shake your head. “Idiots,” you mumble under your breath. This is almost too easy.

With the all the guards accounted for, you make your way to the exit you planned on using to make a quick escape. As you work your way across the floor, you make it seem as if you are looking for a friend. “Samantha?” You cry out with a slight whine and slur to your voice. You’re sure to put on a little show, stumbling and slightly putting your weight on everyone you pass. They started making a narrow path, wanting to avoid a potential collision or the possibility of puke. “Samantha! Where are you?”

You keep moving along until you finally make it to the far side of the dance floor. In your earlier assessment, you took note that the side exit is right by the bathrooms. You thank the gods for your luck. You knew with the packed dance floor and the number of utter buffoons posing as bodyguards, you would have to get Aldrich somewhere private and secluded.

You finally reach the hallway that leads to your preferred exit. You see the guard standing stiffly to the right of the door, arms crossed and a stern scowl on his face. He looked to be in his mid-forties with a bit of gray hair at his temples. He was doing an excellent job of exuding the Don’t Fuck Me Me vibe. You keep up your show of being a drunk girl looking for her friend. You stumble and giggle your way towards him.

“’Scuse me, have you seen S’mantha? Can’t find her anywhere.”

Knock off Jason Statham doesn’t respond just gives you a stern look. You stumble closer to him, hugging the wall for balance.

“D’you hear me? I SAID ‘M LOOKIN’ FOR MY FRIEND S’MANTHAAAA.” You say a little too loudly and with an annoying whine for added effect.

“Look Ma’am, I don’t know who Samantha is, but you’re not supposed to be back here.” He uncrossed his arms as he answered your question, holding them out slightly as if he was about to stop you from coming any closer.

You’re almost close enough to him now that if you were to stumble you would fall right in to his chest, and that is exactly what you do. You let out a surprised gasp as he steadies you. You look up at him and smile.

“Aw thank you! You’re my hero.” You say a little breathlessly as you grasp his biceps. “Oh WOW you’re so strong!” You say with a little awe in your voice.

Your charms don’t seem to be working on the man though. He just looks down at you unfazed.

“Ma’am you can’t be back here.” He repeats.

“Oh, alright you fuddy duddy!” You say as you smack his chest. “I’ll leave, jeez! But if you see S’mantha, tell her that Ray-shul‘s lookin’ for ‘er!” You turn around to leave and take a step forward to leave but stop suddenly.

“Hey sir?”

You hear him sigh and you can tell whatever he says next will have an exasperated tone to it. “Wha-“

You turn around swiftly, delivering a round house kick to his temple, immediately knocking the him out.

“You need to learn to loosen up a little.” You say flatly to his unconscious body.

The next few minutes pass quickly as you secure his hands and feet with some zip ties you hid in your bra. Not much room for a utility bely in this get-up. You drag his body in to some random supply closet and kick off the door knob, effectively locking him in. When you’re done, you straighten your pink form fitting skirt and readjust your bralette making sure none of the goodies were showing. Sometimes it sucks being a woman.

Alright. Phase one complete. Phase two here I come. You make your way back into the mass of bodies. If I never see another club after this mission, it will be too soon. I have had enough of this hot, sweaty mob. You see Aldrich and Russo are at the bar still, so ou make your way to the bar area and hover at the edge dance floor. You take position to make sure you’re seen by the men. Camila Cabello’s Havana starts playing and you start moving to the beat. This next part wouldn’t be hard. Dancing was something you loved, despite your bad memories that were often tied to dancing.

Flashback

You breathe heavily as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. All you can hear are the raps of the cane against the floor as your ballet instructor calls out moves.

 “Pirouette!”

“Arabesque penchée!”

“Grand Jeté!”

America would never admit to being envious of their long-term rivals, but they couldn’t deny that Russia produced two of the best things the world has ever seen: ballets and spies. You were currently practicing for Swan Lake as the Black Swan. Something you never would had thought you would ever do in your life. Being an orphan that had bounced from Foster Home to Foster home since you were 4, your future never seemed too bright. But all of that changed when you were taken in by the White Rose Initiative.

When the SSR caught wind of the Red Room back in the 40s, they were appalled, and rightly so. The fought for years to put an end to the program and rescue those little girls. And for the most part, they succeeded. However, all it took was for one person to have one awful idea under the pretenses that although it may be awful, if it was for the right cause, the ends could justify the means. So, with that thought process, the CIA formed an American equivalent of the Red Room and it was called the White Rose Initiative.

The WRI took in orphaned girls and trained them torturously in the ways of espionage. While they didn’t chain the girls to the bed, they used other means of imprisonment. A decade of mental and emotional abuse did quite a number on someone.

You had been taken in at the ripe, young age of 8. Your body was trained in multiple martial arts and became specialized in dozens of weapons. Your mind was expanded by professors of the highest caliber, mastering all subjects as well as conquering no less than 12 different languages. You were cultured by learning multiple different musical instruments and training your vocal cords to perform even the most difficult operatic arrangements. You built endurance and strength through ballet and dance classes from the highest trained professionals. Needless to say, your body and mind were finely honed weapons, forged to serve the U.S. Government in any way possible. 

During your time with WRI, you endured many different forms of torture. Their goal was to desensitize you so that if you were ever captured, you would not break. Electrocution, waterboarding, extended isolation periods, all seemed like nothing compared to the mental and emotional abuse you suffered under their tutelage. Growing up without love is one thing, but learning to love only one thing in the entire world, and watching it be ripped away from you, knowing there was nothing you could do about it, was too much to bear.

Being inducted to the WRI, doesn’t entail much. You pledge yourself to the United States in a formal deceleration and are you assigned a partner. This partner is with you every moment of every day. Your sparring partner, your roommate, but most importantly, your best friend. Being able to spend your free time with only one person for years on end can only lead to you becoming close. You and  Y/BF/N hit it off right off the bat. You were both around the same age with Y/BF/N only being a few months older than you.

Y/BF/N was all you had. The only person who knew you better than you knew yourself, and you knew her too. This is exactly what the WRI wanted. How else were they supposed to keep their weapons in line? They invested all this time and money making you into a shell of a person who couldn’t break under the most gruesome of tortures even if you wanted to. That is why they gave you only one weakness, and one that they could control and exploit. If you ever misbehaved even in the slightest, failed in training or in education, the person they punished wasn’t you. It was your person that they tortured.

You were always stronger than Y/BF/N. Always just a little faster, a little smarter, a little more determined. You were determined that you would never be the cause of her pain. Y/BF/N, try as she might, was never good at controlling her outburst of rebellion. You both hated the WRI, but you knew that there was no escape from your fate. Y/BF/N however, always held out hope that you all would be rescued from the cruelty. This caused you to “punished” almost daily.

Y/BF/N would always be devastated when you returned to your dormitory with electrical burns or with your finger nails removed, or some other marks that were left from gruesome torturing techniques. You would always console her and tell her you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Y/BF/N, I don’t know what I would do if you ever changed who you were or your beliefs just to spare me pain. You wouldn’t be you and that would hurt worse than any torture they could put me through.” 

You both would spend hours at night, after lights out, dreaming of the day when you both would be free and able to live your own lives. You both had made pacts that you would never do any missions for your torturers. As soon as you two graduated you would run, never to be seen again. It was something that you planned together, mapping out every single detail until every possible outcome had been predicted and appropriately planned for.

However, what they didn’t tell you was that to “graduate”, you would be put in a fight to the death with the person you had come to know as a sister. It made sense. Why would they spend all this time making you unbreakable only to send you out into the world and have one thing that would make you break in a millisecond? It was smart. You have to give them that. Living it though, was a completely different story.

That fated day was fast approaching, and when it came, you and Y/BF/N were called into the training arena. You could see various weapons littered across the room. You also saw a team of people in the middle of the floor cleaning a large amount of blood off the mats. You and Y/BF/N shared a brief look, both reading each other minds. What the hell is going on? You were the first to see your martial arts instructor emerge from the shadows. When he told you what was to come next, you couldn’t believe what you heard. I have to fight Y/BF/N to the death? You couldn’t get the thought to process. Y/BF/N didn’t seem to phased, which threw you for a loop. She almost looked resigned.

You had always had been opinionated, but you always had a tight reign over your tongue. You feared it would fall back on Y/BF/N. You didn’t even really speak much other than when you were with Y/BF/N in private. So when you aggressively responded to your instructor that you wouldn’t be going along with this sick game. Your instructor was taken aback.

“You can’t seriously believe that I would fucking fight Y/BF/N, My. Best. Friend. to the death.” You say in a low and deadly tone.

Your instructor looked at you in disbelief. He couldn’t believe you, his prized pupil, would speak to him like this. He went to open his mouth, no doubt to reprimand you, but before he could say anything, you feel a punch to the gut. You look up to see who would have the audacity to hit you, and you couldn’t believe what you saw.

Y/BF/N had fucking sucker punched you in the gut. You wheeze as you try to get some air back into your lungs.

“Y/BF/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“You fucking idiot. I am trying to kill you. Are you that much of a dumb bitch?”

With those harshly spoken words, she moved to send an upper cut to your jaw. You duck easily, but your brain felt like it was short circuiting. All you could process is that Y/BF/N is not pulling any punches. She was going full out. She’s really trying to kill me.

Looking back on it, you can only remember bits and pieces, but your body must have gone into fight or flight mode because the next thing you know you have a Kukri, your preferred blade, in your hand. You’re not sure how or when it got there, but the only thing you can think about is how deeply it is embedded in Y/BF/N’s gut. You let out a heartbreaking wail as your brain fully registers what you have done.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Y/BF/N’s body is leaning heavily against yours. It’s as if she doesn’t have the energy to stand on her own anymore. She looks at you and smiles, blood staining her teeth Your heart shattered into a million pieces in that moment. A moment that dragged on for what felt like a life time, and all you can think is, Oh God, what have I done.

“No.” You whisper. A faint, broken echo of your wail earlier. Y/BF/N coughed but the cough didn’t seem to alleviate any of her pain as lets out a sickly gurgle. That’s not good. Logically in your brain, you could see the signs that her life was nearing its end, but your heart couldn’t accept it. Her body went slack and started to slip down your body. You kneel down with her and prop her head in your lap.

“Y/BF/N, please stay with me. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. Not you. Not now. We’re so close. What about that island, huh? We were going to go and flirt with all of the local guys, drink mojitos and do absolutely nothing all day, every day. You can’t leave me. You can’t…” Your voice breaks. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.” You repeat the mantra barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” Y/BF/N draws your attention away from your grief. “You’re free. Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing. Resist. You may have to work for them until you can get out, but… you have to… you have t-” You can see that talking is draining what little energy she had left. Every world is a battle to get out. Every breath more labored than the last.

“Shhhh. Save your energy please. I can’t lose you.”

“No, you… have to… remember… they don’t…. they don’t own you Y/N. Remember. Remember… who… you… ar..” Her last word left her mouth like a sigh as her breathing stopped. Despite what your heart was telling you to do, you didn’t rage and scream. You sat there with her until your instructor came over and put a hand on your shoulder. Numb, you just looked up at him and he offered you a pained smile.

“Congratulations, you’ve officially graduated. Go back to your dormitory and pack up. You ship out at 0800.”

It’s like you were a zombie, you nodded and stood. You neatly folded Y/BF/N’s hands on her chest. She looked so peaceful. With one last look at her face, trying to memorize every feature, you turned and walked away and didn’t look back. It was torture being back in your room, seeing little signs of her everywhere. You could see where she had left her brush on the night stand and her bed unmade, a small defiance to the Initiative. You moved towards bathroom to wash her blood off of your body.

After you had dried off, changed and packed, you looked around your room. It never had been so quiet before. Even when you both were asleep, the quiet was broken with Y/BF/N’s soft snores, something she would deny she did until she was blue in the face. You eye her bed and lay down on it. As you stretch yourself out, you run your hand under the pillow only to come into contact with a hardback book. You pull it out and read the cover. “Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” It was her favorite book. She read a little bit of it every night before she went to sleep.

You opened to the bookmarked page. Your eyes scanning the page’s contents only coming to land on the section she had underlined. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” You smirked as you read the passage. Then you noticed the little note she had written in the margins. “If this ain’t us, I don’t know what is…” And like that, the dam burst. You let out a sob before you could contain it. You rolled over and shoved your face into the pillow. You let out a blood curdling scream. You could feel tears and snot soaking the pillow. While it felt good to express some emotion finally, when you had cried the last tear, you just felt empty. You got up and put the book in your pack. At least I’ll something of hers.

And thus began your time as the empty shell that you swore to Y/BF/N that they would never make you. For years, you didn’t care if the world lived or died. You didn’t speak to anyone other than reporting to your superiors. You had soon made a name for yourself, and not in a good way. You were good at what you did. You were stealthy and deadly and you never failed a mission. People started calling you Echo after the nymph in Greek Mythology. Hera deprived her of speech, except for the ability to repeat the last words of another.

End Flashback

You come out of your reverie when a new song started playing. The deep thumps of the bass reverberating in your chest. You really shouldn’t be getting this fucking distracted on a mission. However, Your traitorous brain turns back to the past. 

It’s hard for you to think back on your time after WRI. Especially since it was against the dying wish of your best friend. You aren’t proud to say that you lived that way for a long time. You only came out of your zombie like state when the aliens attacked New York.

Flashback

You were walking along the sidewalk with your head down and earphones in listening to some rap music as you made your way to HQ to get your new mission debriefing. Through the loud music in your ears you start to hear screaming. You look up to see a horde of aliens flying about wreaking havoc on the city. You see the innocent people fleeing and fearing for their lives.

As your eyes scan your surroundings to plan your first mode of attack, your eyes land on a mother clutching her son to her chest, who was obviously dead. He had been impaled with a Chitauri staff. The kid couldn’t have been older than 10. Watching her grieve reminded you of yourself with Y/BF/N. And in that moment, you decided that as long as there were evil dickwads out there preying on the innocent, you were going to do anything you could to protect them. You couldn’t help but think that Y/BF/N would be proud of you. No doubt giving you an ear full about it taking so long first though. And with that thought in mind, you began killing as many of those sons of bitches as you could. There was a never-ending stream of them flying around on those damn hover crafts though and you soon became exhausted. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out.

You pause after decapitating a Chitauri with a loose piece of metal paneling when you hear loud bellows off in the distance. What the hell is that? Next thing you know, you see the Hulk leaping from building to building. You follow his path with your eyes. And as he gets closer, you can hear his roars louder than ever and you fight the instinct to cover your ears to protect them from the sear volume of the noise. You realize he is headed directly towards you. Why is he coming at me, man? What did I do? You see that he passes right over your head though and you turn your head to see where he is heading and you see that you are a few yards from Stark Tower. Oh.

You watch as he swings his body on to the roof and you wonder what’s going on up there, but your thought process is rudely interrupted when a particularly large Chitauri knocks you on your ass. You get up and quickly dispose of him and four others. You then hear what sounds like a jet engine coming right at you. You look up to see Iron Man carrying a nuke on his back.

“What the actual fuck is going on? Did I take LSD without knowing and this is just a bad trip?”

You see him fly into the portal you noticed the Chitauri coming out of earlier and deliver the pay load. You let out a thunderous whoop as did many of the people around you. You hear the nuke exploding in the portal and all of the remaining Chitauri collapse at once. They don’t get back up. 

You look back up into the sky to see the portal beginning to close. You can’t explain it, but when that portal closed, some unknown force knocked you back… like about 30 feet… and slammed you into a brick wall with what felt like the force of a semi-truck going 80 mph. It was a hit that should of killed you. Or at least hospitalized you for months, but before you passed out, you felt a warmth take you’re your body and somehow, you knew you would be alright. The next thing you remember was coming to in a pile of debris.

You look up to the sky again to see if there is still any more action going on, only to see Ironman free falling at an alarming rate. As he draws to close to the ground for comfort, the Hulk swoops in and catches him. They land on the ground not far from you, and you see that Tony isn’t moving. All of the Avengers have gathered around now, and it looks like they have lost hope of him being alive. All of a sudden, the Hulk lets out an ear-splitting roar and Tony jerks awake.

After a heartwarming reunion, the team collects themselves and take in the wreckage that is New York. You are looking at them when Steve makes eye contact with you. He gives you a curious look. You just smirk at him and give him a little wave. He directs the team’s attention towards you and they all start making their way over to you. You hear Hawkeye say, “She take all them aliens out by herself?” And you can’t help but to respond.

“No. Not all of them, about 80% though. The rest are courtesy of the big guy.” You nod towards Hulk and he gives everyone a self-satisfied smirk with a grunt of acknowledgement. “Hulk smash.” He said under his breath in a proud tone.

Tony, who looks worse for wear, looks at the number of dead aliens around you. “Yeaaaah, you got spunk kid. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Y/N, but everyone calls me Echo.”

Nat perks up at this. “Wait. THE Echo? 147 confirmed kills? The silent death dealer of the White Rose Initiative?”

Steve speaks up. “Nat, you know this woman?”

“Know her? I’ve been trying to track her for years. SHIELD has her listed as a potential threat and a potential asset.”

“Hah! Well what do you know! Y/N, why don’t you join the Avengers? I’m sure I can get ole Cyclops to agree. Don’t you think Nat? You know I’m his favorite anyways. He can’t say no to me.”

“Tony, shut up for a second, will you? Y/N, what do you say? I know that Fury would jump at the opportunity to have you be a part of the team, especially after this fiasco. We’re gonna need all the helo we can get.”

“Oh, I dunno man, I mean do I have to wear dumb ass costumes?” You say as you eye up Thor. “I mean a cape, dude? Really?”

You can hear Tony mumble “I like her already,” to Nat and you can hear her chuckle.

Thor, looking offended, responds with, “I’ll have you know that capes are essential for… flying and aerodynamics and… things.”

“Mmm-hmm… Look guys I don’t know. Being an Avenger is this whole thing and I dunno… I’m not into being in the spotlight. I am looking to be on the right side of things though. Got a whole lot of shit to make up for.” Nat nods in understanding. “Widow, think Director Grumpy Mother Fucker will let me join SHIELD?”

The group let out a small laugh at that. Except Cap. He looks a little uncomfortable. Guess his delicate sensitivities doesn’t like cursing. Pussy. “I’ll be sure and let him know! Look we got to get going and report in or said director will have our heads on a platter. We will keep in touch though. You know where to find us.” She says as she gestures towards Stark Tower. You nod in acknowledgement. Well, Y/BF/N, I don’t really remember who you knew me as, but I know who I am going to try to be. I hope it’s someone you would be proud of.

End Flashback

And that’s how you came to be here, in this bar, on this mission. You listen to the song again. The lyrics flowing through you to move your body in a sensual manner.

Desperado Sittin’ in an old Monte Carlo A man whose heart is hollow Mhm, take it easy I’m not tryna go against yuh Actually, I’m goin’ witcha

You close your eyes and feel the music move your soul. Getting lost in music and dance was always an escape for you at your time in the WRI.

Gotta get up out of here And yuh ain’t leavin’ me behind I know you won’t cause we share common interests You need me, there ain’t no leaving me behind Never, no, no, I just want outta here, yeah Once I’m gone, ain’t no going back

You open your eyes and look over to where Russo and Aldrich were stationed. It looks like Aldrich got another round of drinks. Good. The drunker the better. You’re mid-turn in a dance move when you see from the corner of your eyes Aldrich looking in your direction. You smirk to yourself. Off to a good start. You close your eyes again and bite your lip as you let the music take you over again.

If you want, we can be runaways Running from any sight of love Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin’ There ain’t nothin’ here for me There ain’t nothin’ here for me anymore But I don’t wanna be alone

You open your eyes and look directly at your target. He seems to be admiring the view. Got ‘em hook, line and sinker. You crook your finger at him with a sultry smirk. He looks over to Russo and says something. They share a short conversation before Aldrich looks back over to you. You make the same motion and let out a small laugh, hoping it would encourage him to come over. He gestures as if to say, “Who me?” You nod and laugh again.

He eagerly makes his way to you.

“Well, hello there beautiful.”

“Hi Handsome. I saw you watching me and wanted to know if you wanted to dance.”

He doesn’t respond. Bruno Mars’ Finesse remix comes on. It’s a little more upbeat, but Aldrich moves to closer to you so that his right leg is in-between yours. If you move, you will be basically dry humping his leg. As you both begin to move to the beat, you hear him ask for your name.

“Rachel.”

“That’s a pretty name. Name’s Chad. Chad Aldrich.” He says very matter of fact tone. He was clearly expecting you to know who he was from his last name alone.

You give him a blank stare.

“You know the Aldrich’s? They are a branch of the Rockefeller family tree. I’m a very important person.”

Man, this guy is a dick and I’ve only been talking to him for two seconds. You lean up to whisper in his ear. “Oh, I am sure you are. Very. Important.” You lick into his hear on the last word and Chad is speechless. Thank God for that.

You two dance to the upbeat song for a bit more before it bleeds into the next. This new one slow and sensual. Definitely a bump and grind song. You move to turn around and press your back to his front. You start to move to the beat and Chad wraps his arms around you, putting his head next to yours.

You dance like this for a couple more songs and you can feel that Chad is getting a little excited. You lean your head back on his shoulder and press your rear more firmly to his groin. He lets out a groan, that is impossible to hear in the loudness of the music, but you can feel it coming from his chest. You turn your head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me hard in the bathroom.”

“Oh, someone’s kinky.”

“Tell me about it daddy.”

With those last words he looks at you excitedly and nods an okay. You turn to pull him away. You can feel him signaling to Russo and making some gestures behind you, but you choose to ignore them. As you make your way to the bathroom, you can feel Chad getting more and more handsy. He impatiently grips your hips and pulls himself close to you. He runs his hands across your stomach and squeezes one of your breasts.

You finally make it to the bathroom, but before you can enter the door, Chad turns you around and forcefully molds his mouth to yours. He seriously lacks finesse. You chuckle internally at your pun from thinking back to the earlier song. God I am corny. You tolerate the kiss for a few moments before you break it off and pull him into the bathroom. You quickly shoo out any other guys. Man, the bro code must be strong if the guys just willingly leave in the face of a possible quickie for their fellow dude.

Chad grips your shoulders and roughly pushes you against the wall. You two make out for a minute before a guy in a plaid shirt enters the bathroom. He doesn’t seem as accommodating as the other guys. He grumbles, “Get a room, fucking horn dogs.”

You start to shove Chad into a stall. Alright here comes the fun part. You forcefully push him down on to the toilet and straddle his lap. He makes a satisfied sound and that’s the last thing you hear from him as you pinch the pressure point in his trapezoid and he quickly passes out.

You move quickly to remove your skirt and pull out your finger printing kit that had been disassembled and strapped to your inner thigh. You deactivate the photostatic leggings you had on and they turn back to their original black color. You would have to thank Nat for getting them for you. You checked the photostatic veil you had on too. It was still intact and fully functional. Perfect. Everything is going smoothly.

You make quick work of getting his prints and a strand of hair for DNA. With that done, you whip out your phone and open the app that Peter had developed for Tony that allows you to basically have a portable eye mapper. This is ingenious when you need to get retinal scans. Good job Spiderling. You quickly level the camera lens at his eye that you prop open. You watch the load bar as it slowly progresses. I have about 10 minutes before I have to get the heck out of dodge. You think over your checklist.

You hit a stroke of luck when the guy came into the bathroom. He was wearing a perfect change of clothes. It would definitely be beneficial to your mission if you could quickly change your appearance.

You see that the app has completed its mapping and you make your way out of the stall. You see the guy that came in has finished his business and is currently washing his hands. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile ruefully at him.

“Can you believe he passed out? What a fuckin’ light weight am I right?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

He turns to get a paper towel to dry his hands. Using his distraction, you pinch the same nerve in his traps as you did to Chad. The guy collapses on the floor. You turn to throw away the skirt you had on and you remove the sheer shirt and toss it in the trash too. You make your way back to the guy and you strip him of his flannel shirt and white t-shirt underneath. You rip the bottom half of the t-shirt and part of the sleeves. You slip the shirt over your bralette and tie it to where it fits firmly across your chest. Next you roll up what was left of the sleeves to make them a bit more feminine looking. Then you take his flannel shirt and tie it around your waist.

You look over to the guy on the ground and decide to put him in the stall with Chad so that he doesn’t cause problems for you. You grunt as you drag him to lie face down on Chad’s lap. You laugh out loud. When they both come to, they will be very surprised at the situation they find themselves in. You take the bits of t-shirt you ripped off and tie their hand to the back of the commode.

With the majority of the job done, you exit the stall and go to remove your wig. Fucking finally. When all of a sudden you see the door to the bathroom slowly creek open and you see a gun stick through the crack. You watch as the person holding the gun finally enters the room fully and the door swings shut behind him.

He looks at you as you look at him. Fucking Russo with his fucking perfect face and hair has to ruin fucking everything. Fuck. You can see him trying to piece together what he is seeing. You fully remove the wig and your Y/H/C falls down and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

You see him taking in your appearance and you can see it in his eyes when all of the pieces come together. You almost sarcastically congratulate him on how fucking slow he was. You don’t though. You just look at him for a second more before you narrow your eyes and take up a fighting stance. You throw a smirk at him. You needed to get that gun away from him ASAP. Lucky for you, it seems he forgot he was even holding one.

Before he can think of what to do next, you charge at him. Bring it on pretty boy. Let’s see who has more balls the ballerina or the marine.