#hiding from me behind a mesh fence

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

just realized on my initial incomplete run I beat vritra before kujata

man I really put him off this time huh

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 12

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone. It has been a rough go of things for me of late, and I haven't been up to writing. Still on the fence for this chapter, but needed to get it out of the way. Slightly shorter chapter.

2.8K Word Count

Ch 12: Whisper on a Scream, Doesn't Change a Thing

The mornings meetings went off without any snags. What Jim had told you earlier this morning was right, that they had verified that Steve was planning on doing something at one of the three appearances today.  As suspected, Scarlett made it clear she wanted you present with her at all three. You were currently driving one of the blacked out Cadillacs in a procession that even the president would be envious of. Jim was in the vehicle behind you, your boss in front, and the team that had been assigned to driving duties in matching vehicles surrounding you. All told, there was 8 SUVs in this protective detail, as well as a team of people at each interview location. Scarlett was in the rear of your vehicle, a glass barrier between you both. 

You arrived at the first location, her first interview with a morning show. Once you pulled up to the curb, you were quickly assessing the surroundings from inside the vehicle. You noticed a small group of people at the end of the street, and directed some of the team to keep a closer eye on them. Nothing being out of the ordinary, you got out of the vehicle, and walked over to the side Scarlett had been directed to get out of. The plan for today being that she would alternate between drivers. You first, Paul second and Jim last. The cars would also shuffle position, so it would be harder to keep track of her since the vehicles would be the most vulnerable. 

It was still insane to you that an A-List celebrity required this much security, but you also didn’t want someone to be subjected to what Waters was capable of like you had been.  You looked around once more, making sure nothing had changed, and then opened the door. She shuffled her way out, and you had to admit, her outfit for today was going to drive you absolutely up the wall. She was wearing a white top with a mesh lower corset, and form fitting black slacks, with some taller black heels. She smirked as she walked past you, noticing how your eyebrows moved behind your glasses. You rolled your eyes at her reaction, following close behind her, placing your hand on the small of her back and guiding her through the door to backstage. 

“So serious, Y/N.” She smiled as the door shut behind you. You smiled, but didn’t say a word. The both of you went through the check in process backstage, met with the host and then followed the assistant back to the green room. 

“Let me check the room first, Ms. Johansson.” You gently pull her back from the room, before opening the door yourself and stepping into the room first, checking in any places someone could be hiding. Once satisfied, you waved the woman into the room. 

“What have I told you about calling me by my last name?” She asked, stepping past you and throwing herself down onto the sofa. You raised your eyebrow and smirked, before turning and stepping outside to the hallway. Your team had two people at each end of the hallway, and another two people across the hall from you. Knowing that there was that much outside of the green room, you stepped back in, closing the door.

You shifted to one of the corners, standing and watching her scroll through her phone, presumably going over the questions for today’s interviews. “You know, you don’t have to lurk in the corner like a creep, you can come sit down.” She looked at you over her phone, smiling at your stern expression. You didn’t make a move to sit down, so she stood and came over to you. “Y/N, seriously. You can sit. Please. I’m not going to do this all day with you lurking. It makes my anxiety worse.” 

At this, you give in, not wanting her nerves to be any worse than they may already be. You circle around the sofa and sit yourself down, Scarlett joining you on the other side of the sofa. Knowing that there was still almost an hour before the interview, you felt like there was going to be some awkward silence ahead. You weren’t much for talking while on duty. 

“It’s going to be miserable all day if you just sit in silence, Y/N.” She looks over at you, her arm perched on the edge of the sofa. “We’re gonna be back here for a bit.”

“I know.” You responded, keeping a neutral expression, staring straight forward to the pictures hanging on the wall in front of you. 

“You know what, Y/N? That it’s going to be miserable or that we’ll be back here a while?”

“Both.” You see the blonde drop her head slightly at the comment, her demeanor shifting slightly. 

“Not the being around you part, Scarlett.” You recover, looking down at the gloved hands crossed in your lap. 

“What’s with the get up today? You trying to turn a look, or what?” She chuckles, slapping your shoulder lightly. The sudden shift causes you to wince slightly, but the actress misses this, to which you’re thankful. 

“No, I’m not. I just need to be in clothes I can work in.”

“You make it seem like we’re going to be involved in a tactical altercation, Y/N. I don’t think we’ll be going to war.” She chuckled, smiling your way, but her smile dropped at the stony expression on yours. “Right, Y/N?”

“That depends, Scarlett. We don’t really know.” The look on her face made your stomach churn, you didn’t like her being this uncomfortable. But that’s why you're here. But the anxiousness that was creeping into her demeanor was unsettling, to say the least. “Do you need to go over any questions or anything, Scarlett?” You look at her, trying to break her mind free of whatever thought process she was having. She glanced at you, shooting a nervous smile back in your direction. 

“Sure. Here’s my phone, these are the questions they’re supposed to ask me.” She handed the device over to you, turning to face you more directly, so you followed suit, inwardly grimacing at the shift of pressure on your chest. You begin rattling questions off, mixing them up like you were in a normal conversation. As you asked the questions, you would tail off asking others questions not on the list just to get answers to your own questions. Once you had been questioning her for around half an hour, you finally handed her the device and asked if she felt good with the questions. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that.” She sends a small smile at you, which you return. You turn back in your spot, grimacing again at the shift. This time, the actress didn’t miss it. She reached out in your direction, grabbing onto your hand. You acted on instinct, pulling your hand away in pain. 

“Fuck!” You yelp, standing, and instantly regretting the decision to move so quickly. You go over to the bathroom in the far corner of the room, and lean yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths to get the pain to subside. 

“What happened, Y/N?” Scarlett followed you over to the bathroom, looking over your frame in concern. 

“Just a rough night, Scarlett. It’s nothing.” You evened your breath out, finally feeling some relief from the renewed throbbing in your chest and hand. 

“Seems like more than a rough night, Y/N.” She raised her eyebrow, causing your heart to flutter slightly at the sight of her before you. There was a sudden knock at the door, signaling that it was time for her to go on. “This will be continued, Y/N.” She turned, walking towards the door. You quickly stalked behind her, allowing your colleagues to flank her, while you watched the surroundings from behind. 

You stayed concealed backstage, but maintained an eye-line into the audience and the other wing of the stage. As the interview wore on, your could tell Scarlett was becoming more relaxed. This was a double edged sword, you wanted her to be confident, but she needed to keep her own guard up as well. Once the tv spot was finished, she said her goodbyes to the host and other guest stars, and turned back towards you, and you shuffled her off set. You offered her a reassuring smile, and made your way to the garage where all the vehicles were staged. You began walking her to the SUV that Paul was driving, and she turned to look at you. 

“I don’t want him driving me. I want you to drive me.” She whined, looking at you with the slightest puppy dog eyes she could muster. God, those eyes could melt the coldest of souls. You were already screwed, and you knew it. 

“We can’t, Scarlett. You need to go with someone different every time. It’s protocol.” You maintained a stoic expression, turning her back to Paul’s Escalade and pushing her towards it slightly. “I will be in the vehicle behind you. And I will let you out of the car at the next interview. Okay?” You look at her, issuing her another reassuring smile, before opening the door for her and ushering her inside. She nodded, but still maintained the pouty look on her face. Shutting the door, you walked back over to your SUV, hopping in and starting it up. Paul issued the all clear after your staff checked all the vehicles, and you began driving to the next studio. 

***

The next studio was more of the same, you would walk the set, your team was screening everyone that worked for the studio and the audience. You helped Scarlett run questions until the time for her to come on stage had come. This studio was much small than the last, which was a welcome break in the middle of the day, since it was easier to secure. You were virtually on stage with Scarlett for the interview, since the studio let you stay right by the last curtain behind set, and that was all of 5 or so feet away from her spot on set. You were surprised that the day had gone so smoothly up to this point, but didn’t dare to look into it too much, for fear of jinxing it and causing all hell to break loose. There was also the chance that they were just trying to get a rise out of everyone, to create a false alarm, so they could see what response there was. Honestly, you hoped it was neither. 

 You stood behind her, watching the interaction with the host, glancing out to the crowd every so often. Nothing was obvious as a threat, so you would return your gaze to Scarlett and the host, before scanning the intimate crowd once more. This process continued for the 30 or so minutes, allowing them to get all the press they wanted so they could clip and cut what they needed. Scarlett wrapped up her interview, and you shuffled her to the backstage green room, waiting for the landing area for the caravan to be cleared so you could journey to the furthest and last destination. 

“So, Y/N. I bet you think I’ve forgotten. What happened last night to make it so… rough?” Scarlett questioned, keeping her back to you as she poured herself a water from the pitcher in the green room. When she turned around, there was a piercing look on her face, the gaze seeming to cut right through you. 

“Scarlett, it’s really not anything you need to worry about.” Her gaze narrowed further at your lack of an answer.

“Y/N, that’s not an answer.”

“Seriously, Scarlett. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a long night at the gym.” That answer seems to get her to back off, barely. She turns and sits herself on the arm chair closest to the door, staring directly at you. “Staring at me isn’t gonna change anything.” 

“Fine. I'll figure it out myself.” She huffs. You shake your head and laugh, just as a knock erupted through the green room. You walk to the door, anticipating it to be a member of the team, letting you know the grounds are clear and everything is ready to go. When the door was cracked open, you were met with the poker faced expression of Jim. 

“Good to go, Jim?” He shook his head, and quickly signaled for you to step out of the room. You glanced back at the actress, who now was scrolling through something on her phone. 

“We have a problem, Y/N.”

“What happened, Grange?”

“Two of our scouts at the next location have gone offline. No comms. The other two have been searching for them, but there is no sign of them.”

“Two armed agents don’t just go missing, Jim.”

“I know, Y/L/N. That’s why I’m telling you…WE. HAVE. A. PROBLEM.” He punctuated the last bit of the sentence, pointing his finger at the ground. You run your fingers through your hair, looking towards the ground. 

“Can we tell her agents that there is a chance the last interview has been compromised?” You ask, he shrugs. 

“I don’t know, Y/N, they seem pretty adamant about her fulfilling the schedule today.”

“Shit. Can we set a decoy? See if we can lure someone out?” You think out loud. 

“Waters will anticipate that. Can we pull everyone from the other two locations to go to the last one?” Jim asked.

“We have to, Jim. Something isn’t right.” You have a sneaking suspicion that there is something more to this, but at the moment, you have to work on the fly. “I’ll take Scarlet again. Let me check the cars myself- stay with her, please.” You run off to the enclosed garage where the three vehicles were staged- and inspected them from top to bottom. The lower ranking guards were shocked to see you rechecking the cars, but said nothing. You touched the earpiece in your ear, telling Jim to get everyone in here, and get Scarlett to you quickly. The faster you can do this, the better. 

Everyone was quickly shuffled into the garage, with Scarlett wearing a concerned expression as she is whisked away to your Escalade. You hop in, before turning and smiling at her, trying to reassure her that everything was okay. You knew this drive would be the most dangerous, if something really is wrong. It covers the most ground, and will take the longest due to traffic. You text Jim, letting him know to have the other two vehicles drive separate routes, so all the vehicles get split up. You’re hoping a little misdirection works in your favor. Pushing the button to start the truck, you accelerate out of the now open garage, beginning the journey going the same direction as everyone else. 

As you are approaching La Brea Ave., and Sunset, everyone splits. You turn, following Jims car a little bit further. You glance in the rearview mirror, the woman in back just staring out the window. You are planning to take the residential back way, avoiding the highway at all costs, and sticking to less than average ways to get to the last studio. Keeping your head on a swivel, you look for any vehicles that seem to be lingering or trying to stay close to you. Jim slows, switching lanes and shifting his vehicles position to be behind you. You accelerate though the intersection, as he continues behind you.

He suddenly accelerates, overtaking your position again, and almost cutting you off to get in front. You both approach the intersection that will either take you to the 101 Freeway, or up through a residential neighborhood, winding through the Hollywood Hills to arrive at the studio. Jims vehicle creep forward, signaling that it is going to get onto the freeway. As he begins to complete his turn, Scarlett gasps as a vehicle seems to come out of nowhere, plowing itself into the drivers side of the armored vehicle, wedging itself underneath and flipping the SUV onto its side.  Your eyes couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from the vehicle, hoping you’ll see Jim try to open a door, or break a window.

“Y/N…” Scarlett tries to get your attention, resting her hand on your shoulder. “Y/N!” Just as she succeeds at breaking your attention on the vehicle, you notice someone clamoring out of the offending vehicle, limping their way towards you. 

“Shit…”. You mutter under your breath, before making a difficult judgement call. You accelerated around the accident, the masked person from inside the vehicle lunging towards your SUV- causing Scarlett to scream in the backseat, as you drove up into the canyon, leaving the one man who you trusted most in this world behind, not knowing if he is ok. 

CHAPTER 13

[darylandnormanreedusblog]

Daryl x pregnant.Reader

Fluff and comfort!💕

Daryl had just gone on a run to supply the prison, after Lori's death and Rick's nervous breakdown someone had to take care of everyone's needs.

You were at the fence killing some walkers that were pushing into the mesh of the fence when suddenly you felt sick. Carol, who was with you, puts down the pipe and walks towards you.

"What happened my dear??" She asked in a worried tone while helping you back inside the prison .

You and Daryl where a couple since the group settled at the prison. You were left behind when the farm burned down and Daryl found you and took you with him. You realized that you could lose him at any time, that you could die or be bitten by a walker so when the group got to the prison you decided to confess your feelings to Daryl and luckily for you, Daryl felt the same way.

Carol helps you back to the prison and insists you let Hershel check on you however you refuse and decide to go to your cell to rest. You had been feeling sick for a few days and your period was late so yesterday when you were out with Maggie on a medical supply expedition you decided to take some pregnancy tests to confirm your fear.

You were too scared to take the test just yesterday, so you take a pregnancy test and decide to do it, you wait a few minutes and notice that two pink lines appear on the test... you were pregnant . Without realizing it you start to cry, scared by Daryl's reaction. What will you do if he doesn't want a baby? Will he leave you or worse..will he permanently leave the group? You were afraid of what Daryl would think.You hide the pregnancy test under your pillow and curl up in bed crying hugging your stomach .

When Daryl came back from his run Carol informed him that you were starting to feel sick in his absence and then he headed straight for your shared cell. When Daryl got to your shared cell he saw you curled up in bed sleeping with tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Daryl shakes you lightly to wake you up "Honey, I'm back." You open your eyes and see him sitting on the bed next to you waiting for you to tell him what happened "Are you okay honey?"

You shake your head as you start to cry again hugging Daryl tightly. "no I'm not fine Daryl! I'm scared!"

Daryl comforts you as he hugs you "Afraid of what my love?"You hugged him as you spoke "I'm pregnant Daryl..".

Daryl's eyes widen in shock, he didn't expect something like this..he wasn't angry..he..he was actually happy .

"My love that's amazing! That means that we are going to be parent!"

"Aren't you mad?.."

Daryl wipes your tears and kisses you "Why would I be upset honey? I'm so happy. You make me so happy darling.. " Daryl gives her another quick kiss and lies down in bed with her.

Daryl holds her with his hands on her stomach "I love you Y/N "

" I love you too Daryl"

(ASJJSJS THAT WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITHING A STORY SO I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT !!!💕🫂🫂🫂)

[far-side-skies]

Storm Hawks Writing Workshop Entry

*kicks the door down* IT'S HERE!!! Holy shit this took too long!

Here's my entry for @grimm-the-6th's writing workshop. A day in the life oneshot focused on my character Quiz Pharo.

I had a lot of fun with this despite the roadblocks. It's been ages since I last wrote proper fanfic and it shows, but hey, this got the words flowing and I'm looking forward to the next one.

Word Count - 1531

“Good morning, dearest.”

The day started, like most, with a mug of coffee and a kiss from his wife. A slow and easy morning of feeding the birds in his aviary breakfast before going to make some for himself. Quiz Pharo considered himself to be a man of simple needs.

“How was your father this week?” he asked over eggs and toast. Patricias was leaning on the kitchen counter opposite him, contentedly sipping on a blood bag.

“He’s doing well,” Patricias remarked. “A little restless, but who isn’t at his age?”

“Of course,” Quiz nodded, knowing that with his father-in-law, ‘restless’ could mean anything from wanting to hold a spontaneous fencing tournament to wanting to feast on every mortal he could get his teeth into for the next few nights.

“I also got a gift for you,” Patricias purred sweetly.

“Did you now?” Quiz asked in mock surprise. It wasn’t surprising at all; Patricias loved to share the finer things in life with him. But they did both love to play up the theatrics. “Oh darling, you shouldn’t have.”

The merb grinned and sauntered round towards him, “But I wanted to, sweetness. And I couldn’t resist when I saw these. You’ve been working so hard, and they go so perfectly with your eyes.”

“You’re torturing me with the suspense, love.”

Chuckling, Patricias drew out the black jewellery box she’d been hiding behind her back. It was leather, with a crest embossed into the middle in gold to match the clasps, and she opened it to reveal a set of shimmering red pearls. A necklace, bracelet, earrings and a brooch all gleamed up at him.

Quiz’s eyes went wide, “Are these..?”

“Blood pearls from Aquinos, yes,” Patricias crooned, “From father’s newest contact in the Mareenas. I’d like to see these in your family’s collection.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“And they’ll be beautiful on you.”

“I’m sure; you have excellent taste. I look forward to trying them on, but first; you need some sleep.”

“But darling,” Patricias protested.

“We have dinner reservations,” Quiz reminded her. He gently took the box from her hands and kissed her. “I like seeing you look your best, but I love seeing you feel your best first and foremost. I’ll wear these tonight, now go and rest.”

Patricias relented and drew back. “Okay then. You have a good morning now.”

“Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tonight.”

There was a smile on Quiz’s face as he watched Patricias leave for bed. When she was gone, he tidied up the kitchen before going back to the aviary and going through to one of the side rooms. One with a door emblazoned with Cyclonia’s insignia.

The room he entered was much like any other ‘quarantine’ room in which he kept any new arrivals to the aviary, however built for just a single occupant. One large, floor-to-ceiling enclosure decked out in live flora, branches and feeding platforms. Rushing water from the faux-rock fountains filled the air with a peaceful aura, and bright early morning sunlight filtered in through the greenhouse-glass ceiling.

“It is quite lovely here, isn’t it?” he asked, smiling lightly, “You know, sometimes even I never want to leave.”

The response he got came in the form of a baneful screech, “Piss off!”

Quiz dropped the smile. “Come on now. There’s no need for that language. We’re civilised gentlemen, are we not?”

The bird in centre enclosure – a comically small, chubby buzzard with heavy white patterning across its face. How fitting – scowled at him with beady brown eyes, feathers fluffed up in agitation.

“Whatever you’ve done to me, undo it right now!” it shouted, and clumsily flapped towards Quiz to rattle the mesh barrier with its beak. It moved like it didn’t quite know what to do with its own body. “Turn me back, this is humiliating!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that yet, Hermund,” Quiz said, shaking his head. “Not until you tell me what your squadmates are planning with your latest shift in tactics this past week.”

“So you can send that information off to Cyclonia? Fat chance,” Hermund spat. Quiz was only half-listening, more interested in how a Blusterian accent somehow managed to translate across into the pee-yow! shrieks of a common buzzard. Or perhaps that was just how his own mind translated the angry calls. “What kind of interrogation is this anyway?”

“One I’m sure you’d much prefer to the ‘conventional’ forms,” Quiz said without looking at his ‘guest’. “Believe me, there’s far worse people you could’ve been sent to than me. This might be ‘humiliating’, but at least it’s temporary. Provided you tell me what I’m after.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“I hear that a lot. It’s astounding how often it’s proven false.”

Hermund scowled at him and grit his beak shut. Mottled wings drew up to his ears, making Quiz raise an eyebrow.

“You’re pouting?” he asked. “Really?”

“No!”

“Quite unbecoming for the eldest member of the Buff Buzzards, no?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“If you say so. I’m afraid I do have to get going, there’s other guests I need to take care of. Don’t forget to eat your food, it’s right there.”

The man turned bird seemed surprised at those words. He hadn’t noticed Quiz sliding a tray of eggs and meat into the enclosure through a sliding panel.

“You’re feeding me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Quiz said, shrugging like it was completely obvious. “This isn’t a torture chamber. I treat all my residents the same; I feed them, house them, make sure they’re able to live comfortably for the duration of their stay. Think of it like a hotel.”

“Hotels let their guests leave whenever they want.”

“Hotels also take payment. Yours just so happens to be battle tactics.”

“Get bent, Cyclonian scum.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “Been there, done that. I’ll be back later with dinner. Do make yourself at home. Or don’t.”

With that, he left the room, locking the door firmly behind him.

------

It was mid-afternoon when Quiz came back to Hermund’s room with more food for the man. Said buzzard was currently perched on a branch in the middle of the enclosure. He’d clearly been waiting for him.

“Are you going to cooperate?” Quiz asked, though he got the feeling Hermund wouldn’t. Not today. “The sooner you tell me what I want, the sooner you can go home.”

“Who are you?” Hermund demanded.

Quiz shrugged, “It was worth a shot. Here, I have dinner.”

Yellow eyes scowled at him while he slid the food into the enclosure.

“Y’know, not everyone can talk to birds,” the buzzard said.

“I know. That’s why Cyclonia hires my services.”

“And they say someone who could was responsible for Cyclonia’s invasion of Merbia.”

At that, Quiz couldn’t help but smile with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Did they now? And who’s ‘they’?”

“Some merbs. Refugees who got a good long look at the culprit.” Hermund’s eyes narrowed in thought. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who leaked the intel on Merbia’s defences.”

“I knew you’d figure it out quickly Hermund,” Quiz congratulated, giving the bird some mocking applause. “Your file did say you were one of the sharpest of your squad.”

“Why?” Hermund asked, voice dripping with venom. “Merbia’s done nothing to anyone, they’re too scared. What did you have to gain from selling them out?”

“Cyclonia paid for it,” Quiz replied with a shrug. “A much better price than whatever the Free Atmos would’ve offered, too. Do you think this place runs on appreciation and well-wishes? I worked hard to make this aviary into a sanctuary and a learning space.”

“For Cyclonia?”

“Yes, for Cyclonia.”

Hermund was pacing now; waddling back and forth along the perch with confused agitation. Quiz could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You’ve got an avian tongue,” he muttered. “You turned me into this.”

“A common buzzard. I found it fitting.”

“Hush! There’s only one group of people capable of that, and their means to do so was stolen by…”

The bird stopped and slowly turned to look at Quiz, slackjawed. There was practically an audible ‘click!’ as the pieces fell into place for him.

“You. You’re that thieving bastard prince from Amazonia!”

“Rude, but not incorrect,” Quiz replied with a nod. Hermund gave an enraged screech and flung himself at the metal barrier between them both.

“Treacherous scumbag! All this because you lost a throne?!”

“Oh I never wanted the throne. Though I’m a little concerned about who’s next in line for it. My sister is quite unpleasant.”

“You’re sick.”

“I think you’ll find I’m perfectly healthy.”

“…Why tell me this?” Hermund growled, “Why let me figure this out? It won’t get me to tell you anything.”

“Oh but it will,” Quiz said with an innocent smile. “See, now you’re at a fork in the path. You can tell me nothing and selflessly protect your squadron, but at the cost of your freedom, your humanity and the chance to tell the Buzzards what they’re up against. Or you can cave in and trade information for your freedom.”

Hermund didn’t say a word.

“I’ll let you think about it. Goodnight, Hermund.”

----

Did I make Hermund up on the fly for this? Yes. Yes I did. Was it fun? Absolutely, and now my brain is taking off with the desire to flesh him out some more.

Also yes! Quiz and Patricias (my dracula parrot character) are married! I don't think I ever revealed that here on Tumblr.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hi :) For prompts, do you see any situation where Wen Qing and Lan Xichen could genuinely fall in love with each other? Like, not just political marriage of convenience or whatever. Would it be a thing of being drawn in by their fellow older sibling-ness? Or maybe lxc's competence kink meshing well with wq noticing that he isn't as much of a vanilla peacemaker as his usual front suggests? I think it could be quite an interesting pair but I've never seen it done before, I'd love to see your take!

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Young Mistress Wen around.”

Lan Xichen smiled the way he’d been taught to smile, bowed the way he’d been taught to bow, and offered his arm the way he’d been taught.

The little girl in front of him did not seem especially impressed.

To be entirely honest, he thought he might like her just for that.

“So,” she said as they walked through the garden. “What did you do in a past life to deserve this?”

He sniggered, then tried to stop. Levity wasn’t disallowed, to be precise, but it wasn’t really encouraged, either.

“It’s bad for you to restrain laughter,” Wen Qing said. “Venting of emotions is a key part of maintaining a stable mind and a healthy body. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re seven.”

“Says the eight-year-old. And anyway, I’m going to be a doctor. I’ve already started reading books and taking lessons. Just you wait!”

-

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Mistress Wen around.”

“How’s the doctor thing coming?” he asked her as they walked along the pier by the river. “Still taking lessons?”

“Yes, of course,” Wen Qing said, and made a face. “I live in the Nightless City now, you know. Not just visiting sometimes – Sect Leader Wen insisted, saying it was a better place to develop my talent.”

She sounded wistful. Maybe even regretful.

“Sect Leader Wen probably wants you to be a good role model to his sons,” Lan Xichen said.

“You mean Greed and Malice?”

“Malice and Greed, I’d say,” Lan Xichen said. “Wen Xu is older, after all.”

“I thought your sect had rules about talking behind other people’s backs,” Wen Qing said, but she was smiling again, as he’d hoped.

“There’s an exception if it’s both true and helpful to know,” he said. “You have to be able to prepare yourself for dealing with people, after all. I think you’ll be a wonderful doctor.”

“I hope so,” she said, and looked a little downcast. “I can’t even heal my own little brother.”

“Neither can I,” Lan Xichen said, thinking of Lan Wangji’s grief – his silence and solemnity, so uncharacteristic for his age. He had never quite recovered from their mother’s death. “Maybe we’re just too young.”

“I’m going to grow up as fast as I can, then,” Wen Qing said. “Race you there?”

-

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Doctor Wen around.”

“Congratulations,” he said to her as they walked through the crowded streets. “I understand that your paper on the development of the golden core in early stages was extremely well received.”

“It was,” Wen Qing said, looking pleased. “It’s a difficult area of study, but I wanted the reception it would get – there aren’t that many women practicing as doctors, you know, so we have to try harder.”

“I would think the opposite would be true, with novelty acting as a draw..?”

“Novelty is novelty, but with doctors people want to feel reassured. They don’t want something new.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, browsing through the stalls in search of presents for their younger brothers. Lan Xichen occasionally wished he had Nie Huaisang as a younger sibling – so easy to shop for – and when he mentioned it to Wen Qing she laughed and agreed.

Sometimes, nothing more needed to be said.

-

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Lady Wen around.”

“I heard you’re going to be competing in the archery competition later,” she said as they walked along the edges of the competition grounds, a dirt path that twined through the foothills of a desolate mountain chasm.

“I am,” he said. “I’m still counted as part of the younger generation since my uncle is acting as sect leader.”

“But soon it will be you,” she said, and her gaze was fixed firmly in front of her, not looking at him at all.

It surprised him how much he missed it – her frankness, her cheer, her solemnity, her pleasant silence.

She reached out abruptly and he stopped, looking at her.

“You should hide some of your family’s books,” she said, still not looking at him. “Whatever you can, and quickly. Just in case.”

And then she started walking again, the same casual stroll, and it was as if she had never said anything at all.

Lan Xichen added bravery to the list of her qualities and followed.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said, thinking of the trouble it would cause with the Lan sect elders. Thinking of the trouble something like this – a warning – could cost her. “In the meantime, tell me about your planned course of study in Yiling. Are you focusing on any particular type of medicine this time?”

Wen Qing looked at him then, and her eyes were grateful.

“Actually,” she said, “I was thinking of designing my course around whatever illness were most prevalent in the region –”

-

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Take charge of the prisoners.”

Lan Xichen very nearly handed off the work to Meng Yao – no, he was Jin Guangyao now, and he ought to remember that. He was tired after that final battle, after all the work they’d done, the losses they’d suffered, and he knew Jin Guangyao would do the work efficiently and well the way he always did. Anyway, the Jin sect was less damaged than they were, and could afford it, and Jin Guangyao wanted the opportunity to do something well to show his father his merits.

But then by happenstance he’d seen Wen Ning’s face in the crowd and realized that he couldn’t.

Jin Guangyao had been disappointed, but Lan Xichen had insisted, and as one of the heroes of the war Jin Guangshan couldn’t exactly refuse him. In the end, the Wen sect remnants came under the control of the Lan sect.

He set up the new village they would reside in himself – fenced in, but on good land, ready for growth – and soon enough other Wens came drifting out of the darkness to take shelter with their remaining kinsmen, just as he’d hoped.

“Any chance you can show me around?” Wen Qing asked, and Lan Xichen turned to face her with a widening smile. She looked tired and was too thin, the marks of the imprisonment that Jiang Cheng had reported on not yet faded, and yet he had never been happier to see her. “If you’re not too busy, Sect Leader.”

-

“Uncle,” Lan Xichen said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m going to show my wife around now.”

[lune-hime]

We All Fall Down (Chocobros x f!Reader)

For those times when clumsiness gets the best of us. 

↞Noctis↠

“Noctis, how did the two of you get up there?” Regis inquired, already mentally preparing himself for the absurd situation the prince was about to relay. Seeing his son and his fiancee dangling from one of the Citadel’s many spires was not what the King had pictured his Tuesday afternoon would look like.

“Y/N and I bet each other that the other wouldn’t be able to get from the throne room to the training room blindfolded.” Noctis stated as if it was a normal activity that young people did in their free time. The disappointed, but not surprised, look on Regis’ face made Noctis hesitant to continue.

“Y/N might have fallen a couple stories off a balcony before I warped to catch her.” Noctis grimaced and gave a cautionary look down to his father.

“But I’m okay!” You chimed in as cheerful as ever. Throwing the King an enthusiastic wave caused Noctis’ grip on the spire to falter. Both you and the prince screeched in fear, your holds tightening around one another.

“Do you need help getting down?” Regis offered, cringing slightly when Nocts’ arm began to quiver.

“No.” The Prince spat with a childish pout. It was like a toddler arguing with his overworked father. It would have been an endearing interaction to observe if you were not hanging precariously from the side of a building.

Regis deadpanned before shaking his head and smiling.

“Get down quickly, then. I was going to treat the two of you to ice cream.” He nagged playfully, turning on his heels. He didn’t get more than five steps before a resounding crash sounded on the walkway behind him. Turning his head, he was met with entangled limbs and pained groans.

The laughter that boomed from the King’s dignified frame shocked the two who were recovering from their fall. You and Noctis exchanged wide eyes before bursting into laughter yourselves. When you caught up to Regis, he placed an arm around each of you as you walked back into the Citadel, the sunlight warm on your backs.

If you thought you had escaped the dad lecture about how to navigate a castle safely, you would be wrong.

↞Prompto↠

Letting a bunch of Crown City High School sophomores loose on a chocobo ranch screamed chaos from the beginning. After the scheduled tour of the facilities and getting an in depth lecture on the intricate process of chocobo breeding, the children were set free to roam about the premises. For the more fearless students, free and lets say,  too casual  chocobo lessons were open. Too casual meaning unsupervised while the handler took a smoke break.

Naturally, you and Prompto were the most willing participants out of your friend group.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it!” You shouted to the blonde boy leaning excitedly on the arena’s fence as you trotted around the dirt pen.

“Yeah, you look great-Y/N!” Prompto didn’t have time to finish his compliment before he was vaulting over the fence towards your crumpled form. The chocobo had thrown you from its back so quickly that he didn’t have time to process the situation until you had already flopped ungracefully on the ground.

Placing his hands on your shoulders, he frantically turned you over to check for a concussion. The wind had been knocked out of you but other than that you looked unharmed. You sat there dazed for a few moments propped against his embrace before giggles bubbled from your chest.

“I wanna go again!” You exclaimed happily, seemingly unphased that your head had just fallen short of the bird’s powerful kick.

“How about we go visit the babies, huh?” He gently coaxed, eyeing the annoyed bird. It ruffled its plumage and squawked angrily as the two of you waddled out of the pen and towards the petting barn. All the while he couldn’t stop thinking how simultaneously alarming and cute your reaction was.

↞Ignis↠

“Stay awake, dear.” Ignis hummed in a low tone. The tour of the newly developed shopping complex had commenced once again and your group was now on the move towards the food court. Your head lazily dropped from where it rested on Ignis’ shoulder, snapping you back into reality.

“Huh? I was just resting my eyes.” You bluffed, briskly slapping your cheeks to bring some alertness into your veins. Ignis shook his head slightly as your group came to another stop.

“Why did you bring me on this again?” You stifled a yawn as one of the businessmen threw you a dirty look through his monocle. Hiding your tiredness with a cough you smiled awkwardly until he returned his gaze to the tour guide.

“It was  you  who insisted on coming, I told you to sleep in this morning.” Ignis whispered cheekily. The two of you were representing the Citadel in this group of stuffy conglomerates scouting for new business ventures. You decided to come, the nosy person you were, despite your exceptional exhaustion. Being a college student and a member of the Crownsguard was not recommended if you wanted to get a decent amount of sleep and graduate at the same time.

“Couldn’t bear spending an hour without me, hmm?” Ignis slyly poked you in the side, an amused smile on his lips. Huffing, you nudged him back playfully. Ignis was about to retaliate when the monocle man cleared his throat rather aggressively. It seemed you were disturbing his learning environment.

“And now we will make our way to the next floor.” The guide announced, his crisp tone filling the open space of the vacant mall.

Ignis ascended onto the escalator first, allowing you to rest your head on his back. You could care less if you got a makeup stain on his freshly pressed suit vest, any second you got to stare at the inside of your eyelids felt like pure bliss.

You had not anticipated for the ride to be so short and you didn’t have time to adjust to the absence of your headrest when he stepped off the escalator. Flailing like a fish, your face almost said hello to the tile when a strong grip on your waist held you up and pushed you, albeit clumsily, off the moving steps.

Regaining your composure you automatically thanked Ignis for catching your fall. Only, Ignis was in front of you and there was a hand still on your stomach. Slowly craning your neck back to see your savior, you saw yourself in the reflection of a polished golden monocle. An undignified squeak left your mouth as you jumped out of the man’s arms.

The man with the monocle scowled at you and clicked his tongue under his bristly peppered mustache. Heat rose to your cheeks and you sputtered a small thank you as he gruffly brushed past Ignis to rejoin the rest of the tour.

Ignis bit his lip to stifle his impending laughter. He needed to stay professional after all. He held out his arm to you, which you graciously took, and hid your face behind his sleeve until the embarrassment had washed itself from your cheeks.

↞Gladiolus↠

“And then Cindy almost punched the guy in the mouth because he was getting a little to handsy but I managed to thro-WHOA.” Your rambling was cut short by your ankle twisting haphazardly as you padded down the sunbaked steps of Lestallum’s main street. The steaming hot styrofoam of the Cup Noodles in your hand consequently went flying out of your grasp as you scrambled to collect your floundering form.

Expecting to see the horrendous sight of your freshly brewed noodles splattered on the pavement like the scene of a murder, you were pleasantly surprised when it was intact in Gladio’s hand.

“You okay?” He asked, placing the noodles on the stairs. He crouched down to look at your ankle. You nodded, giving it a few rolls. “Yeah, I’m good. What about your hand? Did it get burned?” You prodded, gently bringing his hand that held your cup noodles to your eye level.

“Nah it’s fine. My hand just smells like ramen now.” He chuckled.

“Now it's beefy, just like you.” You smiled cheekily, snatching your noodles from his grasp in a fluid movement. You skipped down the remaining stairs, leaving him to smile fondly before quickly catching up and squeezing your side, your combined giggles meshing with the subtle buzzing of the power-plant.

[acapelladitty]

Jason Todd/Female Reader: Breathplay (1.8k)

(Warnings: choking, fingering, outdoor displays)

Being cornered by the infamous Red Hood was not how you had anticipated this night to end and, as you watched the final body of your fellow henchmen fall to the floor after a swift kick to the temple, you can’t help but eye up the only exit to the alleyway you were currently trapped in; an exit which stood behind the dark figure who was now watching you cautiously.

“Don’t think about it, sweetheart.”

His voice was gruff, muffled by the red helmet which covered his entire head and prevented you from seeing his expression as he slowly approached you, knowing that you were unarmed and unlikely to pose any real threat as he spoke once more.

“I can’t believe that a cutie like you works for someone like Dent.”

Cutie.

Despite your anxiety, the compliment is noted, and you hope it is enough to buy you some leniency.

His strides towards you were confident and you found yourself stepping back for every step he took forward until you felt your spine connect against the mesh of a metal fence. Glancing up, the fence was too high to scale and a growing sense of panic overtook you as you realised you were trapped.

While not as openly dangerous or sadistic as some of the other costumed rogues, the Red Hood was not known for his mercy and the blood on his hands was well known across Gotham. With this knowledge in mind, as his presence looms over you, it seems only natural that you feel a spike of fear as his hand slams against the metal just off to the side of your head.

“So where is he? Where is Dent hiding?”

“I-I can’t tell you that, he’ll kill me.”

Red Hood chuckles, speaking almost conversationally as he invades your personal space.

“Listen, don’t make me threaten to shoot you. I don’t like threatening to shoot pretty women when they’re unarmed, even if they’re working for a maniac.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t-”

His hand is quicker than you could have anticipated as it wraps around your throat and gives a threatening squeeze; not harsh by any means, but enough to indicate that he meant business.

“Look, I don’t hav- was that a moan?”

You didn’t respond to his question but the high flush of colour which decorated your cheeks was enough to be a dead giveaway. His hand around your throat had caught you off-guard and, in your heightened state of tension, it had sent a wave of pure arousal through you which allowed a low moan to escape your lips.

The hand around your throat keeps its position but it loosens slightly as he hesitates, obviously debating something with himself as his body remains frozen in place. Coming to a decision, his free hand snakes around the back of his head and, with a slight metallic hiss, his helmet comes free in his hand as he drops it to the ground delicately.

“Oh, babygirl, I heard that moan.”

A fresh flush of heat sweeps across your entire body as you meet his eyes.

Fuck, he’s handsome.

You had seen his face before, plastered across several target boards which told you he had a price on his head from Roman Sionis, the Black Mask himself. But those posters did little justice to showcase his thick dark hair which was only marred by a bright, white streak over his forehead and the many attractive features below. His eyes were a sharp blue and his tanned skin only served to make the whites of his eyes seem even sharper as he fixed you with a pointed gaze, a smirk curling the edges of his lips.

“Maybe you’ll give Dent up with a little incentive.” His free hand comes to rest against your hip and every through the fabric of your jacket and slacks, you swear you can feel the heat of his touch, “What do you think? Up for it?”

“Yes.” You sigh out, your hand coming to lay atop his as you move it towards your chest, sensing what he was asking you and giving your consent without too much thought as you were caught up in the moment, “Please?”

“Please?” His eyes narrow, searching your expression even as both his hands fly to your wrists, pinning them against the metal fence as he measures out your intent, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Do it,” you groan, arcing your upper body out towards him, “but put your hand around my neck again.”

He complies with a low growl, releasing your hands to once again grip at your throat and his free hand instead brushes across your chest, cupping each breast as he took his time exploring your clothed flesh.

“You’re certainly something, cutie.” He mutters into the small space between you as his hand dips lower, tracing along the waistband of your slacks as you gasp in place, pushing your groin towards his travelling fingers.

Unable to move too much, you can only release a pathetic whimper as his hand unzips the fly of your slacks and dips within the space; the tips of his fingers running along the cloth of your panties as they follow the concealed slit there. Pushing past the fabric, his finger teases the entrance of your sex and you grind against him, willing him to apply more pressure and he does so without preamble, thrusting his finger within you and sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your spine as he moves within you.

A second finger is quick to join the first as your fingers scramble against the chain links of the metal fence and your laboured breathing becomes more intense. The pleasure builds across your core; your growing wetness quickly coating his fingers and making his movements much slicker as his thumb brushes soft circles along your clit.

Small white spots were beginning to touch the edges of your vision as his hand kept up its impressive pressure against your throat and you jump in place as his other hand pauses its delightful ministrations against your aching core.

“Do you still want this?” His voice is rough, and you swear you can sense the slightest hesitation behind the words, but you put it down to a lack of proper oxygen as you writhe against him.

“Yes.” You breathe out gently, the most you can manage due to your restricted windpipe, but he nods your consent as his fingers slip past your panties once again to resume their skilled exploration of your sex.

The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your throat was intoxicating and low grunts and moans escape your lips as you focus on his expression and the lustful intensity which lay within his piercing gaze as he watched your every reaction carefully. You can feel the lack of oxygen causing your blood to roar within your ears; the sensation mixing with the unbearable pleasure of his fingers as they stroked along your slit and focused on your clit, rubbing rough circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves until it was almost unbearable.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He purrs into your ear, his fingers flexing against your throat to allow you the ability to answer.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You reply, the final sound drawing out into a low hiss as he renews his assault on your aching core, fingers moving rapidly within you as he pushed you to your end.

“Then do it.” A soft growl accompanies the words as his lips curl into a knowing smirk, sensing how close you were.

His hand tightened once again, truly cutting off your air supply as he thrust two fingers within you, curling them against your sweetest spot as his thumb moved frantically across your clit. You couldn’t hold out any longer and your vision almost seems to black out momentarily as your orgasm hits; every nerve in your body seeming to alight at once as the lack of oxygen heightened all sensation and forced your walls to clamp around his fingers. Your mess coating your panties and his hand as your fingers claw desperately at the chain link fence, trying to find any purchase that would take your mind off the intense pleasure curling your toes and frying your senses.

He loosens his grip around your throat just as the intensity of your orgasm begins to subside and hot tears threaten the edges of your vision as the first gulps of air reach your aching lungs. Your legs feel weak and you are grateful for the hard support of his body against yours as your body twitches its appreciation of the fresh oxygen.

“I don’t know what pay Dent offers but I can offer better benefits.” The final word is purred, leaving no guesswork on his meaning, “So if you fancy a change in employer, the Red Hood would be more than happy to take you on.”

Barely comprehending his words, you glance up at his expression, noting both the lust and satisfaction which flashes through his gaze as his eyes met your own.

“What?”

“Just something to keep in mind, cutie.” He smirks, dipping one hand down to pick up his discarded helmet, “Now, do you want to tell me where Dent is holed up?”

“138 Crystal Wave Lane.” You respond a little hoarsely, “Just to the west of the Falcone meat packing place.”

“Thanks, doll. You’ve saved me a lot of time.”

Pulling away from you, he takes a respectful step back to allow you to re-zip your fly and get yourself in a presentable state as you test out the strength in your legs.

“Will you get home from here?”

Not expecting the question, it takes you a moment to answer.

“Yeah, I live just around the block. In the flats.”

“Okay.”

“On the top floor.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Second window from the right.”

“Noted.”

Taking a step forward, you note the tension is his body as he moves to help but finds it is unnecessary as you are steady enough on your feet to walk without assistance. Glancing around at your fallen comrades, you are thankful that no one was able to witness your little escapade and you hasten to make your exit.

Turning back to look at the now re-hooded Red Hood, you allow your eyes to follow his lithe form as it quickly scales a nearby fire escape and disappears up the nearby rooftop, no doubt on his way to pay your former boss a less than friendly visit.

The Red Hood was not known for his mercy but a smirk tugged at the edges of your lips as you consider that the fact that you know, beyond a doubt, that he absolutely has more than just blood on his hands.

Fic also available on AO3 here.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

holy cow that sc old guard au is so good!! 😍 pls continue it if ever you'd be so inclined,,, I like the idea of lena finding family with the old guard and navigating her relationship with kara and the superfriends in canon 😊

Okay, then how about we think about the fact that when Lena and Kara finally exchange secrets, Kara is eloquent and apologetic and hopeful, giving a beautiful speech that ends with "I'm Supergirl."

And Lena's response is "I'm dead."

Cue season finale break.

But then we immediately pick back up with "Except I'm not. I mean, I'm alive by any measure known to science, I've checked. But that doesn't change the fact that the night before I moved to National City I woke up in a warehouse in Metropolis and spat two bullets out of my skull."

Kara just stares at her like whaaaaat is happening.

"And those people, the ones in the lobby the other day, I think they're like me, because I've been having dreams about them ever since it happened and I think they're old. Like older than time old and honestly I've been trying not to think about it because the idea of living that long terrifies me and--"

Lena cuts off when Kara wraps her in a hug, squeezing her tight. After her momentary shock, Lena relaxes, abandoning her train of thought in favor of melting into Kara's embrace.

"It's okay," Kara promises. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Lena gladly accepts the fact that she doesn't have to go through her journey of immortality alone. And it's not just the superfriends she has to lean on, but also her new family of fellow immortals who have gone through the exact same thing she has.

She doesn't have to go into hiding like Nile did. So far, no one but Corben knows her secret, so the risk of being identified and studied by the government is minimal. So the focus of everyone's work becomes keeping it that way.

Andy and the rest of the old guard set themselves up as Lena's new ace security team. Andy is the brains and occasional sniper, but stays out of the direct line of fire. Nicky and Joe are the public facing bodyguards who go with her everywhere, while Nile is the last line of defense, posing as Lena's assistant.

The two groups don't really mesh at first, despite the superfriends' curiosities. The old guard has been too long alone and too long with death to know what to do with the superfriends' youthful exuberance. But eventually their mutual attachment to Lena brings them into each others orbits.

Joe and Nicky adapt first. They come to love game nights, and Nia adores their blatant love for each other. Nile is the closest to them in age, but game nights and giggly girl parties isn't exactly her scene. She and Lena share plenty of scotch though, on the nights when they're alone in the office and have nothing to do but talk.

Andy remains an enigma. To her, the people around them are all children, and she can't truly connect with them the way she does with the old guard. The only member of the superfriends she can connect with is Supergirl. 

There's something about being the last of her world that makes Supergirl relatable, something about being earth's mightiest hero that creates the same invisible wall between her and her closest friends that Andy recognizes.

And Lena. Lena suddenly finds herself in a drastically changing landscape. Her apartment  fills first with bodies and go bags, as the old guard camps in her living room and spare bedroom. Then slowly Nicky's drawings find their way to the walls, and knick knacks come to rest on every available surface. Weapons fill every nook and cranny, a fact Lena grows more accustomed to as Nile starts training her.

She's familiar with guns and can hold her own in hand to hand combat under normal circumstances, but it doesn't flow through her muscles like it does with the old guard. Each of them but Andy teaches them their own specialty, relentlessly, until Lena feels her body change, her muscles coiled and ready to explode into motion using nothing but reflexive memory.

When Lena asks about training with Andy, the others laugh.

"Give it another century," Joe says, smiling warmly, "then ask."

But Lena picks up fighting as quickly as she does everything else. Sparring with Nicky and Joe is the most fun for Lena-- she surprises them with her skill in bladed weapons, courtesy of her near-olympic level proficiency in fencing. But even with them Lena can barely hold a candle at first. She's good, better than good, but Joe and Nicky don't fight to earn points. They fight to kill. They move with their whole bodies, with power and momentum behind every strike.

Lena does all she can to catch up. She loves a challenge, and this is a matter of keeping her life the way it is-- something she'll cling to until it's ripped out of her warm, undying fingers. She wants to keep L-Corp, she wants to keep game nights, and movie nights, and... she wants to keep Kara.

And Kara.... Kara supports Lena through it all, but the truth of Lena's new reality doesn't really sink in until one day she and the old guard don't move fast enough. They're lucky, in the sense there's no one else to see the bullet that rips through Lena's sternum and blasts out of her back, taking chunks of flesh and bone with it.

Kara's heart stops, barely hears the gasping wheeze as Andy puts a knife through the shooters windpipe. All she can see is Lena, unmistakably dead.

But then Lena blinks into a grimace, a curse rising to her pinkening lips.

"Fuck."

Then, "Ow. Motherfucker."

Nile pulls Lena to her feet, putting her gun back in Lena's palm. Lena deftly checks the chamber and nods the okay, and Nile moves on. Only then does Lena see Kara standing stock still, eyes wide and chest locked against a burgeoning panic attack.

"Hey," Lena says softly. She takes Kara's hand in hers, letting Kara feel the warmth of her skin, the pulse of her veins. She even pulls her blouse aside so Kara can see the flesh knitting itself back together. "I'm okay. See?"

There's a word for what Lena is, but Kara's pretty sure it isn't okay. Still, its enough to get Kara's legs to move again. With a nod, she bounces on the balls of her feet then launches into the air, speeding through the remaining gunmen and piling them aside unconscious for the police to deal with later.

"Still gotta get used to that," Andy mutters under her breath, coming to check on Lena. "You good?"

Lena nods again. "You were supposed to stay in the van."

"Fuck off with that garbage." Andy glares at her. "One of my team goes down, I'm going to make sure they get back up."

Lena smiles. It feels different, to be so readily accepted into the guard. Even with the Superfriends, she's had to work to earn their trust, and slowly eased her way into becoming one of the group. With Andy and her people, from the moment they saw each other there's never been any other thought. Lena was theirs, and they were hers.

"Let's get going."

[tothemeadow]

@oozyhxney​ asked:

Okay hear me out...AU where the pillars are the fem!reader's sugar parents. Doesnt have to be spicy but can be if you want to I just want to see how they act as a sugar mommy/daddy. And can the reader call them mommy/daddy??? Thank you!

Alright, so I love this concept so much that I’m turning it into a series? Hello smut and nine people spoiling you 😎

 ~*ᑭᖇOᒪOGᑌE*~

warnings: alcohol consumption, use of tobacco

words: 3.5k

-

It’s a chilly, brisk night, the lights lining the streets casting a golden glow; it’s almost pretty, mysterious in a tantalizing way, but it’s nothing compared to the ornate building you stare up at. The architecture tells you that this building is obviously old, the stone arches beautifully molded and hinting at years gone past. The building itself is secluded from the rest of the city, lined by an iron wrought fence and massive gates. Wealth bleeds from this place, taunts everyone who passes in their cars.

Why you’re even here, you don’t know. Your best friend Daki insisted you tag along for this so-called “gathering,” but you know it’s much more than that. It will be fun, she said. She even dressed you up in some of her clothes; wrapped in a fitted silk skirt, a mesh shirt, and a faux fur coat, you are not dressed like you usually do. Although, you have to admit – blush looks really good on you.

You feel stiff in the expensive clothes – all of them straight from the runway, yikes – as you maneuver out of the car, your heels clacking against the concrete sidewalk. Daki is dressed in a similar fashion, a slinky black gown adorning her curves and a faux fur coat hanging from her shoulders as well. Her painted lips curve into a smile as she looks to you.

“See, darling?” she says, her eyes doing another onceover at you, “you’d fit into the luxurious lifestyle perfectly.”

Behind her, a tall, dark-skinned man emerges from the car, his teeth a pearly white and his eyes a beautiful gold. Even though you’ve met him numerous times, the sight of Daki’s sugar daddy still makes you weak in the knees. He’s insanely gorgeous – not to mention intelligent – and positively dripping with wealth. It’s this “gathering” he was invited to attend in the first place; obviously, he wanted to bring Daki along, but he was also nice enough to let her bring you along whenever he was busy talking to friends and potential clients.

“Are you ladies ready?” he says, buttoning his jacket closed. Daki clings onto his arm, looking almost tiny against his broad frame. He turns his dazingly smile to you, an encouraging look in his eyes. How Daki managed to find a sugar daddy who was so nice, you have no idea. You’re almost jealous of her. Almost.

Daki’s free hand intertwines with yours, and the three of you set towards the front entrance. Your chauffeur drives off, the sweet purr of the Rolls Royce echoing in the night air. An entourage of staff greet you at the entrance, asking for your bags and coats and handing you tickets in return. It happens so fast that you’re left reeling at the attention, but the other two seem perfectly fine with the whole situation.

Soon enough, you’re whisked into a large room, a sea of people filling the entirety of the space. A small orchestra sits on the far side of the room, their instruments pristinely polished as they provide tonight’s entertainment. Tables line the walls, covered with white tablecloths and French pastries. Your mouth waters at the sight, your eyes drawn to the silver platters covered with macarons; you are so going to spoil yourself tonight. A man in waistcoat and black tie stops in front of you three, gently urging you to take a flute of champagne. You sheepishly accept a glass, glancing over to Daki.

“Is it always this… rushed?” you ask her. “It feels like so much is going on at once.”

Separating herself from Idris – her sugar daddy – she merely shrugs a shoulder. “You get used to it, darling. Now, enjoy yourself. You deserve to be treated like royalty once in a while, and I’ll be damned if you don’t.” She gestures to the drink in your hand. “Drink up.”

With a slight sigh, you do as told; the champagne is surprisingly sweet, almost feathery light as it slides down your throat. You’ve never had anything like this before. It’s almost… delicious? Is that the proper word to use here? If anything, it tastes expensive.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Idris is quick to speak up. “It’s a Shinazugawa special. What’d they call it, babe?” he asks, turning to Daki.

“La Libellule,” Daki responds. “It’s delectable, isn’t it? I’ve always loved the brand.”

You nearly drop the glass. Shinazugawa? Like, the Shinazugawa? One of the most expensive alcohol companies on Earth? Shit, a bottle of their wine is more expensive than your monthly rent – maybe even a couple.

“Yeah,” you say, albeit shakily, “it’s great.”

Idris hums, his expression thoughtful. “I can introduce you to the owner, if you want.” He acts so nonchalant, casually sipping on his champagne as you and Daki drop your mouths.

“Wait, seriously?” Daki chirps. “Please, Daddy? That’d be incredible!”

“Of course, babe,” Idris says, swiftly planting a kiss to Daki’s temple. “If you ladies would follow me…”

Your mind switches to autopilot as you follow after Idris through the crowd, struggling to keep up with his long strides. Delicate perfume and rich cologne fill your senses as you pass by CEOs, celebrities, you name it. It seems almost if everybody who’s anybody is here. Still, Daki keeps a hand in yours, providing you both with support and comfort. She wants you to have fun, after all. She wants you to have a taste as to what her life is like.

As you draw further away from the crowd, you’re led down a hallway with only a couple of stragglers mill about. The music from the main room drifts down the hall, the shiny floors and beige-and-gold walls putting you in mind of royalty. Idris leads you to a solid oak door and stops right in front of it. Glancing over his shoulder, he sends the two of you a teasing smile.

“You might want to prepare yourselves, ladies.” With those words, he twists the brass doorknob open.

Immediately, you’re hit with a rich, thick cloud of tobacco. Spices and citrus mix with the cloud, along with hints of florally perfume. Glancing inside, you’re met with the sight of leather couches and a billiards table. A mahogany bar sits on the other side of the room, its shelves filled to the brim with name-brand drinks and mixers.

A small group of people loiter in the room; your heart drops to your stomach as you quickly come to realize that you recognize all of them. A few men are gathered around the billiards table, watching as one with a head of wild hair takes aim at a ball. Shinazugawa Sanemi – owner and CEO of a liquor company that people pay top dollar for.

Your hand tightens around Daki’s. Is this seriously happening right now? You’re in a room full of influential people, and you feel smaller than a goddamn ant.

There’s a loud clack as Sanemi takes his shot, the balls bouncing off each other and one flying into a pocket. One of the other men standing by the side – Rengoku Kyojuro, an A-list actor – claps his hands, his expression impressed.

“Hey, Shinazugawa-san!” Idris calls out. The entire group turns to look at you three, their conversations coming to a halt. Idris either takes no notice or care as he crosses to the billiards table, his hand reaching out and shaking the group’s hands.

Daki looks to you, excitement glittering in her eyes. “Oh my god,” she whispers, “do you see who’s in here? Daddy is the best!”

At that, you have to agree. How Idris knows so many people like this, you have no clue. You figure it’s part of the life, being friends with the 1%, but it is impressive. Either way, you’re shaking like nobody’s business. You’re not part of the life, and you’re just barely skimming the surface. How does one even act around these types of people? You’re not in a crowd, so you can’t hide away and gorge yourself on macarons and bubbly.

A tall man with silver hair barks a laugh; dressed in a fine suit with rings on his fingers, you notice that it’s Uzui Tengen, a famous producer. The songs he writes are mostly number one hits, some of them even earning platinum records. The thing is, though, is that his music can be primarily found in somebody’s sex playlist. “Idris, you son of a bitch! How are you?” he exclaims, the hand not holding onto a cue clapping down on Idris’ shoulder.

“I’m well,” Idris says with a chuckle. “But I’d like to introduce you to some very lovely people.” Turning around, he beckons you and Daki over. Daki pulls you along, a bright smile forming on her pretty face. “This is my darling, Daki. And this is her friend, (y/n).”

“Well, well, well,” Tengen begins, his voice smoother than silk. Placing his cue down, he pulls his cigarette out of his mouth and quickly takes Daki’s hand in his and places a kiss to her knuckles. She giggles at the attention, her long eyelashes fluttering. Tengen then moves to you, a smirk on his handsome face as he then takes your hand. Your heart nearly stops in your chest, warmth running through your veins as he places his soft lips to the back of your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he purrs.

“Oi, didn’t you hear the man?” Sanemi barks. “He’s here for me, you idiot. Get your head out of your ass.” Brushing Tengen to the side, he comes to stand before you and Daki. “So. Idris wanted to introduce you girls to me.”

The fact that he sounds disinterested – even annoyed, damn – makes your heart thud in disappointment. Granted, he’s probably used to meeting people who want to fawn all over him, but can’t he be… You know… Nicer?

“What, am I not allowed to say how much I enjoy your products?” Daki says, her lips pursing into a pout.

Sanemi scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. You can’t help but stare at the exposed skin, the first couple buttons of his shirt undone. A simple silver chain hangs around his neck, a small pendant attached. You have to admit that he’s incredibly attractive, even if his personality begs to differ. “Can’t say that it’s the first time somebody’s tried to use that on me.”

“Shinazugawa-san, play nice,” Idris tells him.

Daki holds a hand up to stop him. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll even tell him that a virgin to your products absolutely loves your champagne.” She nudges your shoulder with her own. “Isn’t that right, (y/n)?”

Sanemi’s steely gaze switches to you. He almost looks amused. “Oh, really now? You’ve never tried my drinks? I’m actually surprised.”

You have half the mind to tell him off, that you aren’t a part of this crowd, but the words die on your tongue. There’s no point in starting an argument with this guy. Sanemi merely jerks his head towards the bar, an inviting glint in his eyes.

“Here, lemme show you what a real drink tastes like.”

You absentmindedly follow him over the bar, passing by Tengen in the process. He merely smirks down at you, the look in his eyes unreadable. Taking a seat at the bar, you watch Sanemi makes his way behind the counter and starts to make up some concoction. Idris sets to talking with the men surrounding the billiards table, going on about some upcoming vacations and the like. Rich people problems, you guess.

Daki comes over and takes the stool next to yours, an expectant look on her face. “Well? What do you think so far?”

“Like I said – rushed. We’ve barely been here for twenty minutes and I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“It might be shock,” a new voice says. Looking to your right, you see a pretty woman with fair skin and dark hair taking the seat next to you. She holds out a dainty hand in greeting. “Kochu Shinobu. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Kocho Shinobu. The name rolls around in your head as you try to catch up with the fact that you’re sitting next to a renowned brain surgeon. Taking her hand in yours, you politely give it a shake as you provide her with your own name. Her face is pleasant, the light dusting of eyeshadow on her lids making her large eyes pop. Honestly, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that she was a model rather than a certified genius.

“Sanemi-san,” she says, her voice dainty, just like the rest of her, “be a dear and pour me a glass of barbera.”

“Doctor Kocho,” you begin, but Shinobu quickly shoots a hand up.

“Please, call me Shinobu. I only like to be called doctor when I’m at work. And, as you can tell,” she says, gesturing to the room with a wide sweep of her arms, “I’m not at work.”

Daki taps on your shoulder with a manicured finger. “Hey, (y/n), do you remember me telling you about my friend Mitsuri?” Turning fully to her, you look over her shoulder at a busty pink-haired female. She flashes you a dazzling smile as your eyes meet hers.

“Hi!” she chirps, waggling her fingers in greeting. With a giggle, she points to your outfit. “I see that somebody has some taste.”

Glancing down your clothes, you suddenly feel very self-conscious about the mesh shirt and the lacy bra it covers. It’s a beautiful shirt, yes, with its scattered silver stones inlaid towards the neckline. The silk skirt you wear flows down to your ankles, leaving your strappy heels on display. It’s an outfit Daki picked out, so you can’t take credit for how utterly great you look.

Daki sends you a knowing look. “Those clothes are from Mitsuri’s fashion line. I say, you look dashing in them.”

You gawk at your friend. “Wait, seriously? I didn’t know these were hers…”

Mitsuri graces you with another giggle. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I agree with Daki – you look incredible.”

“Blah, blah, blah, we get it. (y/n) looks pretty,” Sanemi interrupts. He sets glasses in front of each of you girls, all of them specially made (besides Shinobu’s glass of wine). “Come on, drink up. Once you had a sip of that, you won’t want another drink from anyone else ever again.”

The drink in front of you sits in a tall, pretty glass, its caramel color beckoning for you to try a sip. Hesitantly, you rise the glass to your lips, Sanemi’s focused gaze watching your every move. The alcohol is smooth, sweet; it burns your throat in a pleasant way, leaving you surprised. It’s delicious. Sanemi must notice the expression on your face since a cocky one forms on his own.

“What’d I tell you?”

You nod at him. “It’s amazing. What’s in it?”

Sanemi snickers. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” You honestly think your mind is playing tricks on you whenever he sends you a wink.

“Here, (y/n), follow me,” Mitsuri suddenly says. You give Sanemi your thanks before you quickly hop off the stool, leaving Daki to talk with the other two. “I’ll introduce you to everyone else, okay?”

She takes you over to one of the leather couches, two men with dark hair sitting side by side while another sits in a separate armchair. You instantly recognize the large one as Himejima Gyomei, a well-known sculptor; his works are nothing but beautiful, and it’s even more amazing knowing that he’s blind. His hands are truly gifted, and you’ve been following after his work for years.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe. “Uh, Himejima-san?” He perks up at your voice, the hand holding his Scotch lowering. “I just… I’m a huge fan of your works, sir.” You try to ignore the heat rising up your neck, the shaking of the drink in your hand.

And, much to your surprise, Gyomei starts crying.

Mitsuri places a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry – he does that a lot.” She sends you a reassuring smile. “Anyway, these two are Tomioka Giyuu and Tokito Muichiro.”

The other two men nod their heads in greeting. Unlike the others, they don’t seem the talkative type, but they’re breathtakingly gorgeous. You know Muichiro’s a dancer, having been in numerous shows; his lithe body tells you as such. He almost looks like a doll, with delicate features and crystalline eyes. He wears his long hair loose, the strands of it pushed behind his ears and revealing little silver hoops.

Giyuu, unlike Muichiro, is not in the entertainment business, but a CEO of a company, just like Sanemi. You know that his company deals with water technology, striving to clean up the Earth’s supply while providing others who need it. It’s admirable work, really, and you’re in awe to see him up close.

Mitsuri directs your attention away, pointing at the other person you have yet hear to talk – Iguro Obanai. Again, a successful businessman, except that he owns a ridiculously popular tattoo parlor. People always gush on social media about how cool he is, how incredible his artwork is, how amazing it is to have their ink done by him. To be touched by him is to be touched by a god. He’s just that good.

“You’ll the chance to talk to all of us, surely,” Mitsuri tells you. “It’s always nice to meet new faces.” Pulling you over to the couch, she ushers the other two to move aside so you have a place to sit.

The leather practically sucks you into a world of comfort as you sink down onto its plush cushions. You run your hand over the smooth material, subconsciously wondering just how much this thing is even worth. Your apartment would look great with this couch in it.

“Are you… enjoying yourself?” Giyuu questions you, voice low. He clears his throat. “Sorry. You just seem uncomfortable.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. Is it that obvious that you’re new to this whole thing? You’re actually impressed that he picked up on that so easily. “Actually, Tomioka-san, this is my first time at a uh, gathering like this.”

A shiver travels down your spine as Giyuu turns his piercing gaze on you. “Oh. So you’re not here with Idris?”

You shake your head no. “I’m only here since Daki wanted me to be. She said I had to experience new things.” With a shrug, you take another sip of your drink; you don’t know why you’re practically spilling your guts to someone you’ve barely met, but something about Giyuu is… comforting, to say the least.

“Wait – does that mean you’re not with anybody?” Mitsuri speaks up.

Looking to her, a weird feeling blooms in your chest. What is that supposed to mean, anyway? “Uh… no?” you say slowly.

“(y/n), come on, let’s go,” Daki suddenly says. She’s standing by Gyomei’s chair, her hands resting on her hips. “I’m hungry and I know you were staring at those macarons earlier.”

You can feel your entire body heat up with embarrassment. True, while you love Daki with every fiber in your body, but she can be an utter brat sometimes. What she wants, she gets. It’s no wonder she became a sugar baby in the first place. You shoot the others sitting around you an apologetic glance as you stand up. Idris is already waiting by the door, seemingly sharing some last words with Kyojuro. Setting your glass down, you say a quick goodbye to everyone as Daki grabs you by the arm and pulls you over to the door.

“I gotta say, Idris, you’ll have to swing around some time for drinks,” Kyojuro is saying, his large hand shaking Idris’. He glances over to you as you and Daki wander over. “Oh, and you should bring your girls along.”

Idris waves a dismissive hand. “The only girl I need is Daki, Kyojuro. I don’t have that type of relationship with (y/n).”

“Oh, is that so?” Kyojuro drawls. His abnormal eyes scan over your body, an appreciate hum rumbling in his chest. He flashes you a brilliant smile; it makes you go weak in the knees since that’s the smile he uses on the red carpet. He’s even more handsome up close and in person. His tailored suit fits him so perfectly, and your imagination is already flying. A lot of the movies he stars in aren’t kid friendly, so you may or may not know what he looks like underneath the suit…

Coughing awkwardly, you attempt to smile at him in return.

“We’ll have to go out for drinks sometime,” Kyojuro tells you. “I’d like to get to know more about you.” The suggestive tone in his voice isn’t lost on you; in fact, it makes you excited. An extremely hot actor flirting with you? Yes please.

“She’ll think about it later,” Daki says for you. “It was nice meeting you, though!” You manage to send a quick wave to everyone in the room before Daki promptly pulls you out, making a beeline towards the main room and the delectable desserts on display.

Well… That was interesting.

[thedarklingxalina]

A Darklina fic I'm playing about with but not committing to yet. This would be the first chapter. I need to finish Dark Guardian first but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Eclipse

Summary: Alina is an investigative journalist, investigating the death of her childhood friend, Mal.

Alina is reunited with her other childhood friend, Aleksander - known to the world as Kirigan, a famous actor and grisha rights activist. All too quickly though, Alina begins to discover Aleksander is hiding a dark secret.

Modern Grisha AU. Everyone has their powers. Mentions of suicide. Mild torture.

Saints, give me strength. 

Alina stared at the rusty mesh gates through the rain speckled windscreen. A barrage of warning signs prohibiting entrance were pinned across the fencing. Keep out. Danger. Risk to life. On one fence was a display of withered flowers entwined around the metal, with hand-made laminated pleads to stay away, to remember that someone out there loves you. 

It was a somber sight. Careful reminders of the danger that lurked behind that run-down gate, past the abandoned warehouses, looming at the end of decrepit wooden bridges. Even from here Alina could see the mass of swirling shadows, an endless stretch of darkness that tore Ravka in two.

And here she was armed with wire cutters, ready to break in. Foolish, reckless, stupid. Exactly what she had been told not to do. 

This is for Mal, she reminded herself.  

Alina took in a deep breath and left the warmth and safety of her car. She put on her medical face mask, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and tucked her camera inside her satchel. 

She didn't plan on staying here long, but seeing as research into the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Fold was ongoing, she decided to err on the side of caution. 

Gravel crunched under her boots as she approached the fence, making her way to a part hidden by the treeline. There she cut a reasonable size hole for herself to squeeze through. 

So far, getting into the site was easy. Too easy really, considering the dangers of this place.

Abandoned heavy equipment littered the rubble ridden grounds. Metallic, battle-worn Skiffs (centuries ago once manned by Squallers before new technological advancements replaced them) laid in ruins around the site; rust-encrusted, dented and torn up. The warehouses were dilapidated, weathered down and overgrown with weeds. 

And that wasn't even mentioning the bridges that crossed the ten foot moat, giving unhindered access to the Unsea and the monsters within. 

This place was a death trap. 

"Why in the Saints name did you come back here, Mal?" Alina asked. 

He had loathed this place. Everyone in Os Atla had. There had been vocal opposition from the public for decades, demanding the site be shut down. The residents of the city uncomfortable with an access point to the Fold being right on their doorstep. 

This skiffyard's infamous reputation for being the most dangerous, certainly hadn't endeared it to people, no matter the flow of trade it provided. It had the highest fatality and injury rate of an skiffyard. Budget cuts producing poorly made Skiffs that broke down frequently and were east pickings for Volcra. Breaching person capacity on each trip to increase profit. Bribing of safety inspectors. Understaffed. Overworking their employees to exhaustion. 

The place had been a nightmare. The stories Mal had told Alina about it over the years still made her recoil. 

The final nail in the coffin for Skiffyard 13 had been when three urban explorers had snuck into the docks, using it to bypass the the forest and ten foot moat separating the Fold from the city - deterrents erected over a century prior, to keep the public safe. The three individuals, the youngest only fourteen years old, had never came out again. 

The dock had been shut down. Workers like Mal had been relocated to other docks outside the city.

Yet despite this, the site had never been dismantled. It was too expensive, was the frequent excuse. The go to excuse for all failures in protecting the general public from the dangers of the Unsea. 

Now, it was the easiest access point to the Fold. No workers to sneak past, no checkpoints, and no maintenance to the gates and various deterrents. There wasn't even video surveillance or electrical fencing, as electronics were unreliable this close the Fold. And much to the people of Os Atla's grief, no armed patrols or guards dogs to keep trespassers like her out.  

Oh, the mayor promised they would upgrade the security on access points to the Fold regularly. But those promises seemed to be forgotten after the elections had passed. Funny that. 

As Alina scanned the deserted skiffyard, the Fold a short walk away, she realized the bitter irony of it all.

It didn't take long for Alina to find the place she was looking. Dock Six. The last place Mal had last been seen alive. 

Alina took a shuddering breath, her grip on her satchel tightening. she closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes.

Another life lost to the Fold, the news reporter had said. A tragic suicide, the police had decided, he left a farewell note on the dock.

A farewell note that doesn't mention me? His childhood best friend. That doesn't mention his girlfriend Lucy who he had planned to propose to on her birthday? 

But Alina's protests had fallen on deaf ears. She was nothing but a grieving girl in denial to them. Even Lucy had tried to discourage her, wanting her to accept-

No. Alina wouldn't hear it. Mal didn't take his own life. He hadn't. He wouldn't. Alina had spoken to him days before. There had been something he had wanted to tell her, something he hadn't felt safe discussing over phone or email. A story, he had said, that people need to know. Then that phone call the night he vanished. That desperate, breathless voice pleading with her through a breaking line. 

Alina... don't... Atla... away- 

Mal? Mal, is that you? I can't hear you, the line is terrible. Where are you? 

Distant shouting, five loud bangs, more static.

Mal? Mal!

Stay away... sorry... sorry...

Something had happened to Mal that night. Something awful that the police were refusing to look into. Alina was sure of it. And come hell or high water, she was going to find out what. She owed it to Mal, to Lucy, to herself. 

Alina scouted the area, alighting her hand with a soft glow to light her way.

It took a while, but the Saints finally took pity on her and Alina found something. Something that she suspected to be the source of the bangs in that final phone call. Gouged into a floorboard of the dock, into a post, and a concrete wall. 

Bullet holes.

They weren't old. The moss overgrowing the post and floorboards having been blasted off with the impact, yet to have grown back. 

Alina snapped some photos. 

After an hour prowling around each bullet hole site, sometimes on hands and knees, getting caked in dust and mud, Alina was ready to give up when an idea sprung to mind. She summoned her light, shining it across the ground until something silver glinted back. 

A bullet, hidden among the overgrown weeds. Alina took more photos before putting the bullet in a labeled ziplock bag. 

Suicide in deed, Alina mused bitterly. Had the police even bothered to check the scene? 

"I'll find out what happened to you, Mal. I swear it."

Alina rose to her feet, dusting her trousers.

Mal had come here for a reason, and whatever it was, someone had killed him for it. But what could be here that was worth killing over? 

There was only one warehouse stable enough to enter. Warehouse three. Alina didn't bother to pick the lock, just melted it off its hinges then crept in. 

The warehouse was massive and surprisingly well maintained. Everything was clean. There was no debris. Creates and boxes were stacked high and neatly.

Alina frowned, extinguishing her light in favor of using a battery powered torch.

If there were people here, she didn't need them knowing she was Grisha. That element of surprise could be the difference that mattered. Besides, there were too many out there that despised her kind; having people know you were Grisha was like walking around with a bullseye on your back. 

Alina crept behind a row of shelves, occasionally taking photos. She stopped at an easy to reach pile of boxes and pulled back the lids. 

Oxygen canisters, boxes of personal protective equipment, bullets (but not the same as the one that she found outside; these were longer and bigger, meant for something... larger.) 

This is all essential items for crossings, Alina realised. And it's all new. 

Someone had to making illegal crossings across the Fold, using these docks as their access point. 

Alina closed the lid, a dreadful unease settling over her. 

What are they taking across the Fold that requires all the secrecy? 

Maybe the answer was in another crate. Alina moved to open another- 

A sharp tug on her heart stilled her, making her choke for air. Alina fell to her knees, the energy in her body bleeding from her.

As darkness consumed her, one though flickered through her mind. 

Saints above, she hated Heartrenders.

☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑

Alina was no stranger to danger. Her investigative journalism had gotten her into many a difficult situation. But nothing ever quite this bad. 

When Alina had awoken, it was to find herself tied to a chair, her hands separated and bound to a steel bar (rendering her powers useless). She was blind folded; inconvenient and certainly unnerving, but it gave her some hope. Whoever had assaulted her, cared if she saw their faces. If they were going to kill her a blindfold wasn't necessary.

"Who are you?" A man asked. Middle aged by the deep roughness. Ravkan by the accent. A grumpy git, by the tone. 

Not the person you're looking for, Alina wants to snark, but thinks better of it. They might not be fans of Star Wars references and honestly, she is too exhausted to try and be smart. Besides, snarky quips and teasing here would only charm her way into a pair of cement boots and a dip in the river. Or the Unsea. 

Alina tried not to shiver. 

"I said who are you?" Grumpy demands. 

"Alina Starkov. Investigative Journalist for the Ketterdam Express News."

There's no point lying. They probably already know who she is with a quick internet search. Lying will only make them mad. 

"What's a small-time news journalist doing in Os Atla?"

Alina twitches at his comment. 

This time the man who speaks is younger. He has a scratchy voice and bratty attitude that made Alina want to kick him in the shin. 

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Nothing more. He went missing three months ago and was last spotted working at the docks you snatched me from." 

Wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? Put a bullet through his head perhaps? 

"Name?" Grumpy asks.

"Mal Oretsev."

"Never heard of him. Seems you've wasted your time, Nancy Drew," Bratty said. 

I doubt that, Alina mused bitterly. She had clearly stumbled onto something if they were willing to kidnap and interrogate her. 

"That's a shame," Alina said with exaggerated glumness. "Well, if you could just untie me I can head off. Wouldn't want to keep you guys later than need be."

Grumpy snorted. Bratty let out a nasty chuckle (Alina would wager a week on gossip column duty, that Bratty had a very punchable face).

"We can't have snoopy reporters buzzing around here," Bratty says.

Don't panic, Alina tells herself. Don't-

Alina hears the rustle of fabric, then the dreaded sound of a gun's safety clicking off. 

-starting to panic.

"And you think a dead one will prevent that?" Alina swallowed down the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a frantic edge to her voice. "There are people who know where I am and know to call the police if I don't make it back soon. Within an hour this place will be swarming!" 

"She's bluffing." 

"You think I'm stupid enough not to have a back up plan in case something like this happened?" 

If she said it strongly enough, maybe even she would believe it. Because really, a smart journalist would have done that. 

"You were stupid enough to get caught."

Prick.

"You have a heartrender, that's cheat-" 

Someone slapped her, Bratty she would bet. Alina cries out as pain flares hot on her cheek.

That'll leave a bruise, Alina muses bitterly.

"That's enough," Grumpy snapped, his footsteps loud as he got closer. "Tell us, what information do you have on Project Likhoradka?"

Alina frowned. The name rung a bell, but it was too distant to make out. Likhoradka... why would they think she had any information on it? Was it because she had mentioned Mal? Did it have something to do with the illegal Fold crossings? 

"I don't know anything about-" 

Someone slapped her again, worse than before. Where his hand had connected, her skin burned and ached.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, Alina thinks, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know anything! One of you is a heartrender, you know I'm telling the truth!" Alina snarled. 

Alina strained against the bonds on her wrist, tied behind her back. If only she could melt through them. She could distract them with a flash of blinding light, turn invisible, then flee into the night. Had they known she was Grisha and that was why they bound her this way? Or was it just a precaution?

A phone buzzed, cutting the interrogation short. A moment later, Grumpy spoke again. "The boss is here."

Alina heard the whirling grate of the warehouses large doors lifting. A brief wind tickled her face. Then a new set of footsteps, slow and precise, made their way closer. 

Damn it. How many of them where their now? Three inside, but could more be waiting outside? More heartrenders or maybe other Grisha? Infernis, Squallers, more heartrenders?

Alina swallowed hard, sniffing back the tears welling behind her eyes. Hope of making it out of this alive was dimming like a setting sun. 

"And what is this?" A voice asked. He had a pleasing voice; gentle, smooth, young, yet firm. The boss, she'd guess. Boss of what though?

"Nosey reporter from Kansas-"

"Ketterdam, I'm not Dorothy," Alina muttered. But Bratty would certainly make a perfect Scarescrow; no brains and all.

Bratty smacked her again; this time across the head, more chiding than malicious. Speak when spoken to, the message was clear. 

"Does she know anything?" The leader asked. 

"Don't know yet. But she said she's friends with Oretsev." So much for not knowing him. "We figure she has to know something about-"

Bratty stops talking. Footsteps come closer and Alina holds her breath as someone takes a delicate hold of her chin. She gets the impression they are studying her features intently. Long fingers brush aside the hair from her face, lightly tracing the scar on her forehead. 

A scar she had gotten when she was a child, when a group of bullies found out she was different from them. Witch, demon, freak... stones flying through the air... frightened shrieks and tears... and a little boy with onyx eyes, arms out stretched, shielding her from it all... 

The man inhales sharply. 

The heartrender knocked her out again. 

[keltonwrites]

I'm not sure if that's a good thing

“Well you’re definitely the first.” This past week, we screened-in the eastern facing porch on the side of the cabin. The porch slopes to the South, with the brick-on-dirt floor crumbling in that direction as well until it reaches uneven slabs of stone acting as steps down to the “yard” below. A mixed material retaining wall wraps beneath the steps to the south facing garage, holding up one corner of the narrow deck on the front of the house. The deck, in the heat of a high altitude summer, droops off the house like it’s daydreaming about the winter snow’s embrace. It’s safe to sit on, though I would not recommend leaning on the railing.

The side porch takes the brunt of the wind. Our wooden rocking chairs have been rocked some 20 feet into the yard more than once in the two months we lived here. In the myriad of threats we heard about the weather, most people included the wind. We all know how I feel about this ongoing weather intimidation tactic. I asked, “what speed are the gusts?” “Oh, they get up to 70 miles per hour on some days.” This was the first quantifiable piece of weather information someone had offered — an actual number we could react to with data and our historical personal experiences of various weather events. And our reaction was: uhhhh…. OK???? Look, I get it. No one’s preaching the skin benefits of -20 degree wind gusts at 70 mph, building snow drifts against your house in the span of minutes that Cooper could die in. I am not going to pretend that’s pleasant. But 70 mph? Any wind I’ve driven faster than does not intimidate me. I used to rally the horses at 12 years old in winds over 70mph to get them in the barn before the latest tornado whipped through. I helped shutter the resort in the BVI as the Category 5 hurricane rolled in. Even in Topanga, 70 mile per hour gusts were not uncommon in Santa Ana events. We had our single pane windows shatter more than once from debris in the wind. We taped cardboard up and went to sleep. That “70 mph” was all I needed to hear to confirm our next project: we were going to build a catio for these cats, and we were going to do it on the pre-existing porch structure to save time and money. We spent a week framing out the structure. We had to carve into the logs of the house to embed the wood supports for the framing.

And from there, every piece of wood was custom carved and cut to fit around the existing timber supports. The existing porch was so wildly uneven that there are gaps between each piece of old wood and the new framing. Our plan is to mix all the wood chips from the project with mortar/chinking and stuff the gaps — a good solution for the log cabin look. We built a plywood pony wall up to 28 inches from the interior of the porch, which gives a height of ~4-5ft from the exterior ground below. It’s capped with a 2x6” railing for even the fluffiest of cats to find a perch. The exterior will be wrapped with corrugated metal that we’ll quick-age to match the metal that wraps the bottom of the cabin. On the interior of the porch, we’ll use shiplap to hide the framing.

The screens themselves can withstand winds up to 120 mph, but to-be-determined if they can hold the weight of a growing maniac cat who has already tried to climb them. In the event the screens succumb to cat (or wind or snow or neighbor judgment) we’ll reinforce with metal mesh. We’re going to maintain this screen porch regardless of what the screen is. We had the pleasure of running into one of our more industrious neighbors the other day, and Ben asked him, “hey we’re building a screen porch. Is this a terrible idea?” He laughed. “Well you’re definitely the first.” But he liked it. Great way to diminish wind into the house. Simple way to regulate the temperature with massive south-facing windows. And indeed a practical outdoor safe haven for cats in predator territory. Just because you’re the first doesn’t mean you’re foolish — just foolhardy. There’s plenty of that here. This town has the typical mountain town’s truncated version of a colonizers’ history: “established 1881.” But it was plenty established prior to that by the Uncompahgre Band of the Ute Nation, removed by the U.S. Army on September 7, 1881, nearly 140 years ago. The government relocated the Uncompahgre Ute People to Utah, and one year after the Ute were forcibly removed from their ancestral land, San Miguel County split off from Ouray County and was made its own political subdivision in the newly-formed State of Colorado. In 1879, the ore-laden valley already had 50 people living in it, with a new narrow gauge railway only 2 miles away. By 1885, it was a town of 200 people. There was a hotel, a couple saloons, a pool hall. Winters were treacherous; the valley was and is prone to avalanches. But where there’s gold, there’s gumption. The power needed to run the stamp mill to process ore drove innovation. Timber was scarce at such high elevations, so a wood powered steam mill wouldn’t cut it. But the San Miguel River just a few miles down from the mine looked promising. Thus began the development and construction of the Ames Hydroelectric Generating Plant. It was a hit. In fact, it was so successful that the Ames Plant led to the adoption of alternating currents at Niagara Falls and eventually to being adopted worldwide as a viable power solution. The plant remains, but the gold rush obviously didn’t. By 1940, the U.S. Census declared this little town I call home as tied for the lowest population in the country: 2 people. By 1960, it was one of four incorporated towns in the U.S. with no residents. But the joke was on the Census — the town’s single resident was just out of town the day the census came through. 1960 population: 1. By 1980 the population grew to 38, 69 in 1990, and about 180 now. (Plus 51 dogs according to the town’s website.) With modern amenities, it’s easier to be here. Studded snow tires, satellite internet, solar panels, instant coffee. No matter the hardships, there’s the reality of the present. In the 1880s, as the town boomed, the Ouray Times declared, “it will be at no distant day a far more pretentious town than it is now.” That day hasn’t exactly arrived, but I guess it depends on what you consider pretentious. I don’t think the town claims any airs of excellence beyond what’s true. In fact, the town hardly claims anything at all. There’s no sign indicating it’s even here. There’s just the old side and the new side. The new side, the Eastern half, was drawn out in the early 1990s, some 100 years later, and is separated from the Old Town by an avalanche zone��preserved open space for hiking in the summer, preserved open space for surviving in the winter. The town forbids short-term rentals, no one has a fence, dogs roam free, and all the houses have that cabin look to them. A boulder nests in a grove near a trailhead in the center of town with a plaque paying respect to the Utes who called this valley home. There’s no industry here. No businesses allowed. If you want a $7 latte, you can drive the 14 miles required to get it, assuming there’s not an avalanche blocking your path. You can, however, buy a pink lemonade in a

solo cup at the permanent lemonade stand run by the local feral child mafia. Crystals (rocks) can be purchased for an additional cost. We bought one, hoping to buy favor at the same time. The town plan has a few guiding principles, and it’s all in the name of preservation. We must preserve: 1 - the quiet atmosphere 2 - the rustic character 3 - the natural setting

And finally: 4 - protect the health and wellbeing of the people here No snowmobiles, no ATVs, no drones. In fact, the only sign of the outside world here are the passers-through. When you take the dirt road through town to the end, you enter National Forest, and you can hike over the pass saddle at nearly 12,000 feet before descending down the other side into Silverton. The pass road climbs rutted through an aspen forest before scaling across a scree field and then lurching over to the other side. Every day, it seems like 30 or so Texans and Arizonans in lifted and loud Jeeps with unused mods climb over this mountain in the comfort of their air conditioning, simply to drive down the other side. You could hike it, ride it, run it, and ski it, but they don’t. They rev their engines, kicking up dust in a town of feral children and roaming dogs, staring at us instead of waving. I’ve lived here for two months and look how salty I am. I’ll fit in yet. But today, there is a temperature that whispers of perfect trails and the dwindling of ogglers driving 35 in a 15. It’s already snowed in the mountains we see from our kitchen. Today, like a dedication to the Septembers of our youth, you can feel a chill in the air. A temperature akin to pencils and sweaters and reinventing yourself. A temperature that doesn’t exactly sing “screen porch” but could if you had the right slippers on. That’s what I did this morning: put my slippers on and sat there in the cool mountain morning air, thinking about the cemetery behind our house, about the Ute tribe, about the miners, about the mailman who died on Christmas in 1875 on the pass, about the 5 people who died in avalanches here just last year, about the people in their cars on their phones driving through, and all the people who’s very first question to us was, “so are you gonna live here part-time or full-time?” Maybe it will be a hard place to live. But at least we’ll have a screen porch.

Every week I'm writing about moving to log cabin in a small town at 10,000 feet. Subscribe here for free: tinyletter.com/keltonwrites

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Revenge is Best Served out of the Ice

Warnings: Non con, dub con, death, cursing, blood, rough vaginal sex, other things, Bucky isn’t okay. 18+

Word Count: 2,529

Prompt: I’m as mad as Hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore

Pairings: Dark ex-Hydra Bucky / Ex-Hydra Reader

Summary: Reader is in hiding after the fall of Hydra.

~ Indicates a time change

--- Indicates a POV change

A/N: This is my very late submission to @kellyn1604 challenge hope you guys like it. I’ll be in the woods for about a week, but I’ll upload an equally late submission to a challenge when I get back. 

XXX

It was never meant to go down like this. You had answered a silly job as an assistant with a company; never did you think you’d be helping a man who leads a terrorist movement looking to take over the world. 

You wanted out the minute you saw the asset. The way Alexander treated him wasn’t human. Even though he insisted he wasn’t, he was an experiment of sorts, it still didn’t sit well with you. His icy cold eyes held life, even if they did make you queasy every time you looked into them. 

Very rarely did you go into where the assassin was kept with Pierce, but when you did he always stared at you until his attention was drawn back to his abusers. The instruments made you feel awful, so you avoided invitations inside as much as possible. The machines that tortured him when he did wrong, the ice he was put in to keep him alive, the electricity that would go through his brain to make him forget. You wondered how old he truly was and who he was. Did he have a family? What did he do to get here?

~

You gasped as you woke up with a jolt from your nightmare. The same blue eyes that had met yours for 5 years refused to go, even in your dreams. You saw him everywhere; the Winter Soldier. After he was ordered to kill Captain America, Hydra was found out. Many were arrested and tried, some people had to go into hiding, including yourself, and others were ordered to rebuild under a new name. After Alexander was killed you had faked your death and ran away to Vienna. Nobody knows where the Winter Soldier went. 

That all had been nearly two years ago. You had moved on in every sense. You had gotten a new job, and this one you loved. Sure, it wasn’t anything you dreamed of doing as a little girl, but it awarded you the privacy you sought. You weren’t ready to reconnect with the world yet. Plus the hours were flexible and no job beats the one where you can be at work in your home in your PJ’s. 

You went out once a week for groceries. You didn’t have a tv, a computer, and the only time you used your burner phone was for work. You kept yourself entertained with the old books left in your old apartment. It was a life different from the one you were used to, but that’s what you liked about it. 

Today was the day you go shopping for food. You sat up in your bed, noticing the little bit of sunlight that passed through the black blankets you’d hung on the windows as makeshift curtains. 

You got up and started your routine before heading out the door. The small market was filled with buyers bargaining for better prices and sellers yelling their final price. You make your way from the seafood to the fruit; the seafood was always the first thing to go in the market. Vienna seemed to have too much fruit. 

As you’re checking out the apples you start feeling watched. You look around but see nobody. Weird. You get enough fruit to keep you satiated for the week so you leave the market as soon as you can. The less human contact and time outside as possible the better, and you were starting to feel off. Someone was watching you, you could feel it, but no matter how many times you turn you see nobody looking. Thank God the walk home is short. 

When you get near your apartment you run up the brick stairs and shove the key into the door, pulling it open and slamming it closed then locking it. You didn’t realize you had been running until you tried to catch your breath and calm your crazy heart. 

You look outside through the peephole before concluding nobody followed you. And if they did they at least left you alone for now. You walked to the kitchen to set down the mesh grocery bag before unloading everything. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The only way into this apartment other than the front door was the fire escape that was connected to the window in your bedroom. The sound of the window opening, no matter how faint it was, has been trained by you to be heard. Your irrational fears of being robbed or found while you're sleeping has finally helped you as you quietly reach for the knife on the counter. 

You continue unpacking and pretend like you didn’t hear a thing in order to trick the intruder. You keep the knife in front of you on the counter, hidden by your body, as your ear strains to listen to what’s happening behind you. 

“You don’t live where I expected.”

Your eyes widened at the voice. The amount of times you heard that voice is less than the amount you saw the face connected to it, but you could recognize it in a concert of sounds. 

You spin around with the knife in your hand to see the man who plagued your nightmares. The Winter Soldier.

He looked down at the puny weapon in your hand. It would do little to protect yourself against the super soldier, but it helped your confidence a bit. He smiled at your shaking grasp on the knife.

“Do you think that’ll work?”

“What are you doing here?”

The man narrowed his eyes at you a bit before ignoring your question. He made a move and you stuck out the knife in a threatening manner. It did nothing to the assassin as he reached for the milk you had just bought, and popped the cap off before taking a few sips. He wiped his mouth before continuing. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’re hard to trace, you know.” Your breathing is getting more erratic and your heart is beating so loud you can hear it. But even if you couldn’t you know the superhuman before you could. “Do you remember me?” His eyes seem searching, like he’s not sure he’s got the right person. Or if he’s confused as to why you’re scared to see him. 

“Yes.” The man nods at your response. 

“After my last mission I was on the run from Hydra. I wasn’t sure what would become of it, but after figuring out I started a plan. I started tracking down the people who the government failed to bring into custody and killing them one by one.” Fuck. “At first I wasn’t looking for you, you hadn’t hurt me after all. I could see your hesitation every time you saw me.” Then why are you here? “But then I remembered the way you looked at me. How disgusted you were. You saw me for the monster that I was.” The man paused, waiting to see if you’d argue. You didn’t. You couldn’t. He was right, even if you felt bad for him, you saw him as a war machine, murderous monster.

“So, I tracked you down. I found you on a car camera at the market, but you never leave. I thought I had the wrong place for the longest time, but today I finally saw you. моя ма��енькая сука.” The blue eyes that haunted you weren’t dead anymore, they held a flame now that terrified you. 

“Listen, I’m sorry. I am. If I had any idea what was going on I would’ve never accepted the job. I was just trying to work, I’m sorry. Please, just go.”

The man just scoffed at your words. “You would’ve never taken the job, but you wouldn’t have helped me. You wouldn’t have helped innocent people. You think I wanted to kill all those people? I still see their faces, no matter how many times they fried my brains, I can’t fucking forget! I don’t have the option to just run away. Unlike you, you fucking bitch!”

You jumped as he was starting to get angrier, the container of milk crushed in his metal fist, leaking down to the floor. Tears started to sting your eyes and you were shaking even worse. “Please, I get why you’re angry, but you don’t have to do this.”

“And you didn’t have to keep quiet for all those years, but you did. Didn't you?” You shook your head. He didn’t get it, you could’ve died. You had no choice but to stay silent. “My name’s James Buchanan Barnes by the way. Everyone called me Bucky. I had a life, a family, friends. A career that I loved. Hydra took all that from me and turned me into the thing you see today. I should’ve died a long time ago; but now I’m as mad as Hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

The soldier suddenly lunged at you, twisting your wrist causing you to scream out. You dropped the knife to the floor with a clang, and you were shoved against the counter with your back to the man who had broken back into your life. 

“I could easily kill you, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t always have a thing for you. The way your ass would look in your pencil skirts, it made me feel normal again, the feelings I’d get when I’d see you. Well, that is until Hydra just fucked me up again.” He whispered low in your ear as you felt him unbuckling his pants. Your struggles were kept to a minimum due to the metal arm holding your body uncomfortably close to the wooden counter. 

“I used to even daydream about a life with you. White picket fence, big house, two kids, the whole nine yards. The normal shit I had as a kid.” the man dryly chuckled, “How stupid of me.”

Without warning he slaps your ass. Hard. He gripped your panties before shoving them down your legs, riding your dress up your thigh to reveal yourself to him. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your face get hot with embarrassment. 

The soldier suddenly drops to his knees and grabs your ass cheeks in his hands, spreading yourself more for him to see. He moaned before diving right in, licking at you slit. You moaned out before you could catch it with your hand causing the man to groan into your core. 

“You like that don’t you?” Slap. “Fucking slut.” 

The man continued to eat you out as you reached hopelessly for an escape. He held you steady and firm up to his face, and you had no control over the vulgar sounds that were leaving your mouth. 

You let out a high pitched scream as the soldier started sucking on your pearl of nerves, driving you over the edge into ecstasy. He continued to suck up all that you had to offer him before standing up.

“You’re slutty cunt has me hard as a fucking rock, you know that?” Another slap to your backside has you jolting forward just a bit and groaning out at the pain that blurred the line of pleasure.

You heard more clothes shuffling before you felt something hot poke at your entrance. “Ready Babygirl?” The man chuckled as you shook your head. 

“Please, you can still stop! I won’t tell anyone, just let me go!”

“Aw, imagine it being your choice.” With that he shoved himself to his limit within you. You both moaned out at the feeling of your walls stretching around the thick member inside you, pulling at him as he moved deeper.

“You’re tighter than I always imagined, Doll.” the soldier moaned into your ear, starting to find a rhythm inside you. He wasted no time using your body as his toy. He deserved this after all that Hydra put him through. After all that you allowed him to be put through.

“Y-you’re hurting me!” 

“Good.”

You’re closing your eyes so hard you can see stars. You feel hot tears escape from your eyes as you’re trying to wait out the torture your body was being subject to. Pretty soon the pain is too much and you’re sobbing.

“What are you crying for, bitch?” the man grabs a handful of your hair and yanks it back, your scalp burning from his roughness, “You don’t get to cry, not after what you let happen to so many people. You don’t know true pain.” He shoved your head forward and you barely miss hitting your head on the counter. Your neck still hurt from his force, though. 

The Winter Soldier’s movements start to get harder and he starts hitting a spot within you that makes you clench around him, your orgasm creeping up in your lower stomach.

“That’s right, clench my cock, cunt. Just like that and I’ll cum for you. You’ll like that won’t you?” Bucky slapped your ass three times before grabbing your left cheek, making you squeeze him again. “Answer!”

“Yes! Please cum inside me, Bucky!”

That was a mistake.

Bucky shoved your hips into the counter for sure causing bruises to rise. You cry out, more tears escaping down your hot and inflamed cheeks. “Don’t call me that. It’s sergeant to you,” The man growls out at you, “You know that? I was a fucking sargeant before this shit. Respected. Now look at me,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

You can feel blood trickle down your leg as the sergeant continues to abuse your pussy, any orgasm you might’ve had is gone now, replaced with a painful yet numb ach. 

“God, fuck-” You feel warmth spill into your channel as the soldier stills inside you. He pulls out of you, letting your weak and overused body fall to the tile floor painfully. You draw your legs up to your chest as you examine the blood on the floor, some of it gushing out from under your inflamed core. You have no idea what he fractured, he had to have done something, but it sure as Hell hurt. 

You hear a click and look up just as a loud bang is heard. Then everything went black.

---

Bucky looked down at the woman he just fucked, saw how the blood trickled from the bullet wound in her head down to the floor to mix with the blood from her pussy. 

He looked around at the dump she called an apartment. It is a place where nobody can trace easily, he thought. She was the last person he had to kill on his path of revenge, and now he needed somewhere to lay low. Maybe he’ll stay, nobody will realize a difference. The bitch never talked to anyone or interacted with people, and those who did know she existed would probably assume she left or that he was her boyfriend or something. They wouldn’t ask questions. They didn’t care.

Bucky finished putting the food she had gotten away before working on disposing of the body. He smiled to himself, content with the job he had done. It wouldn’t right all his wrongs, but it certainly helped. Besides, revenge is best served out of the ice. 

XXX

Tags: @coconutqueen21 @kellyn1604 @jtargaryen18 @collette04 @nsfwsebbie @what-just-happened-bro @gigistorm @avengerimscreaming @venusavengers @saharzek @navybrat817 @bucksgoat @xoxabs88xox

[papermoonish]

when the weather changed

"Wait for me!"

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

autumn brings weather changes and simple sweetness. for kirishima and bakugou it comes first in the shape of friends and then each other

read on AO3 or keep reading here

Kiri is on the roof of the school building. There are mesh fences keeping the small spot up in the air secluded - safe. He's sitting on the floor, his back to the wall hiding the staircase, eyes closed and head leaning against the concrete.

The air tastes like crisp autumn, fresh and cold with the promise of warmth tingling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later. The door opens and Kirishima straightens up, opens his eyes and reaches for his water bottle. With two quick movements he looks busy. Nothing weird going on here.

"Hey man," he smiles, and Denki waves back.

"Yo dude. I was looking everywhere for you."

Denki drops besides him, loose and easy. His shoulder brushes Kirishima's as he’s reaching for the food in Kiri's lap, stealing a small piece of pre-cut sausage. He's warm, body slumping against his friend with a content sigh.

"Ah sorry! What's up?”

Denki pops his lips, pulls up his phone and scans the screen quickly before tapping away on it. He's sitting cross-legged, his knee occasionally bumping against Kiri's thigh. He steals another piece of sausage and chews it a little too loudly but it’s okay. Kirishima appreciates the company.

"Didn’t see you at lunch and thought you might've run away with a hot girl into a future unknown.”

Kirishima snorts and shakes his head, red hair doesn’t move an inch. Next to him Denki cracks his knuckles, but only the ones on his left hand.

"In the middle of a Monday?”

"Who am I to question the timely manners of love, bro."

"Bro."

"Bro."

They laugh and the wind picks up a bit, messing up Denki's hair. As he tries to fix it he lets out a loud groan. Kiri reaches up to tuck a few strands back with the others.

"Nah dude, I'd never leave you behind."

"You better won’t. Blasty would have my ass if he heard you got away and I knew."

There’s an implication between the words, simmering right in the space left after them. Kirishima blinks and shakes it off, smiles until the dimple on his right cheek shows up.

"He has your ass for everything. He owns it."

"HE DOES NOT OWN MY ASS!"

Kiri giggles, downs the rest of his water and rubs his nose. The movement causes Denki to sway a bit, still leaning on his friend. He catches himself and sits up, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's gay," he snickers.

"Denki-"

"No Ei,” he raises his hands in defeat, pouting, “I simply do not wanna think about Bakugou in a sexual way."

"That’s not even close to what I said."

"It was IMPLIED!"

"IT WASN’T!"

They’re shoving at each other now, laughing and the water bottle drops, rolls away across the deck. The rest of Kirishima's lunch nearly falls too, but just at the last second he remembers and puts it aside. Seeing an opening, Denki throws himself at Kirishima and they both topple over. Denki is snorting, Kiri is chuckling. The sun shines.

"EW, DUDE!"

The wet stripe Denki licked across Kirishima's palm glistens in the autumn weather and Kiri is fast to wipe it at Denki's dress shirt.

"You're so gross."

"Excuse me? You have a crush on Bakugou, that's nasty!"

"Ughh,” Kirishima hides his face in his hands, “don’t bring that up."

"You can't censor me, this is a free country."

Their laughter fades at the same time as the sunshine, covered by a few thin clouds moving across the blue. Lunch is coming to an end and Kiri hears Denki's bones pop from stretching his hands. A rumble in the sky makes a few birds fly up and the boys look up.

"I- … uh-"

Denki rolls onto his side and makes a whole show of getting up, like standing is a dance he owns. He cracks his neck and Kirishima cringes at the sound, worrying his lip.

"I won’t tell him. Drop the pout, lovebird."

He reaches out a hand and Kiri grabs it quickly, and then he gets pulled up from the floor with the sun reappearing. Warmth immediately spreads across their skin.

"Thanks, man.”

Denki waves his hand, grins mischievously.

"Bro, you've got so much more dirt on me. This is self-protection.”

"Bro I’d never tell any of them anything."

"I know, I know. You’re just good like that,” he laughs. "One day either Shinso, Jirou, Sero or Tetsu will notice me. I'm not giving up yet."

"You're helpless," Kirishima shoos away a mosquito. “You should pick one of them to work your charm on.”

"I’d go for you, but your little monkey brain is already wired in the wrong direction, babe."

Kiri fake gags and Denki shoves him, hard. They gather their stuff - meaning Kirishima grabs all his things and Denki starts breakdancing next to him. Denki opens the door and bows, giving him the, "After you, good sir." and Kiri bows right back with a, "Oh my, thank you darling."

The door falls into its lock and clicks shut. A gust of wind picks up and moves the water bottle Kirishima forgot on the deck. It clatters against the mesh fence and rolls a few feet across the floor. It’ll be found later by someone else, surely. Not everyone has a bright red metal bottle with multiple stickers of pictures of his friends. They get back to class and the sun still shines.

* at the same time *

The cafeteria is too loud. There's laughter and screaming, talking, shuffling, things dropping and people running. For Bakugou the cafeteria hurts, it rings all the way through his ears to the bottom of his brain and he furrows his brows while poking chopsticks into rice.

"You want a spoon for the rice soup you’re making there?"

Bakugou flinches, knuckles turning white before the colour slowly creeps back, blood flow released.

"Watch your mouth," he barks into the direction of the person sitting across the table.

"Can’t, I'm eating. You should try it, it’s supposed to be good for you."

"I fucking know, Tapeface. What’s your issue?”

Sero grins before digging back into his chicken, his legs long under the table right under the window. His feet knock against Bakugou's ankles. Neither of them moves.

"What's yours? You're usually not that grumpy at lunch."

Bakugou looks at him for a few seconds, like he's considering, waging something in his head.

"'s loud here," he finally settles on.

"Oh."

Sero blinks, then he grabs his backpack and tray and Bakugou flinches again at the speed of it.

"What are you-"

"Come on big guy, grab your stuff."

"Huh?"

"There's tables outside, next to the gym building."

Oh. That’s right.

When they settle again Bakugou's forehead is still crinkled and Sero pokes him, index finger smudging against his skin. The wrinkles smooth out a bit. Sero puts his phone on the table, screen up. Bakugou can see the small notification LED blinking yellow.

"Ya still look grumpy."

Bakugou shrugs, finally eats his rice like a normal person. Sero hums, low and deep, then rustles inside of his bag and pulls out a juice pouch. There's a drop spilling when he puts the straw in a little too forcefully and Bakugou hands him a napkin.

"I have a goddamn headache."

"Ah."

The wind picks up and the sun vanishes behind thin clouds. The building casts enough shade to cover them and their table fully now and it’s a little colder.

"Maybe Ei can do his magic hands thing later. Doesn't he help sometimes?"

Bakugou shrugs but he averts his eyes, dipping his rice into sauce before shoving it into his mouth. He knows Sero can see through it but he also knows Sero is gentle. He hums again and Bakugou breathes.

"Yeah.”

Sero finishes his food and sips his juice, offering it to Bakugou but obviously being declined. He just shrugs.

"Denki texted me he's on the roof if ya wanna go up and ask."

Bakugou shakes his head, puts the lid back onto his bento box. He catches the way Sero checks at his phone, types away an answer to a message that made him smile.

"Lunch is over in a few anyway."

"You have some rice on your shirt."

"Ah shit."

The sun comes back out and Sero's phone chimes. He glances at it and sighs, swiping the little alarm notification away.

"Back to class then, wonder kid."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Hanta."

"Aw with the first name? You make me blush today."

"Bitch."

"No need to sweet talk me after you had a lunch date with me."

"Oh my fucking god I despise you."

He grabs his bag and then puts the trash from Sero's tray on his own, sliding them together. He carries both. Sero holds the door open for him and Bakugou grunts a thank you. The wind starts howling and the cafeteria is still filled with laughter when they enter.

*later*

The school day ends and the sky is grey. There are dark speckles between heavy clouds and the light turned a muddy yellow. The sun isn't visible and you can’t feel it either, all the warmth traveled further away into other days, future hours. Bakugou's kicking the door to the sky deck open with his foot, the sole squeaking against the heavy metal.

"Fucking bullshit."

There’s a rumble and then rain hits his face and there's a giggle right behind him, echoing in the halls of the stairway.

"Wait for me!"

Bakugou keeps the door open with a snarl.

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

Bakugou looks at him, getting soaked more every second, hair slowly plastering itself against his forehead. Water gets caught in his lashes and drips into his shoes. His socks get wet. He blinks once and Kiri rubs his blushing neck, laughing.

"Yeah," his lip pulls upwards, "wouldn't fucking want that, hah?"

Kirishima bolts out into the rain, Bakugou looks after him before following. There are small puddles on the floor and Kiri steps into them intentionally, grinning as he notices his boots are waterproof enough for his shenanigans.

"All right, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are," Kirishima sing-songs.

"You're so stupid."

"Shhhh maybe it's hiding from us."

"Your water bottle?"

Kiri nods. “Maybe it feels your negative vibes, bro."

"Maybe I’ll make you feel a negative vibe in a second, bro."

It’s an empty threat and Kirishima laughs.

He keeps running and the sky doesn't split open to let light through. Bakugou licks his lips, rainwater on his tongue, and walks towards the fence to the south side. It’s like Kirishima forgot where he sat with the way he's buzzing through the rain, arms spread and face tilted towards the sky.

Bakugou spots his bottle immediately, picks it up with his pinky hooking through the loop on the cap. He inspects the stickers and none of them are peeling. When he turns, Kiri is standing still, looking up at the falling rain, hair bending and bowing under the weather.

"You done with your moment?" Bakugou yells over the noise.

"It’s so nice."

"The rain?"

"Hmh."

Bakugou comes up next to him, holds up the bottle but Kirishima’s eyes are closed. So he bumps the cold metal against the exposed skin under Kirishima’s rolled up sleeves.

"Got the goods."

"Ah! thank you, Blasty."

"You'll never drop that name huh?"

Kiri shrugs and Bakugou watches his shoulders move.

"It’s a good name."

"It’s old as shit. Come up with something better."

"Stop exploding into our faces then," Kirishima turns his head and grins.

"Never."

"That’s what I thought."

Kiri's quiet until Bakugou pulls up his nose. The sky keeps making noises that hint ever so closely at a thunderstorm coming.

"Ah shit, okay let's go back inside. You're soaked!"

"Duh."

"Thanks for coming to look with me though."

They both know Kirishima would’ve found his bottle on his own. They don’t address it though and somehow the knowledge settles between them in the form of physical contact. Bakugou simply accepts the wet arm that’s thrown over his shoulder, it soothes the tension built up in his muscles.

"You can thank me by doing your hand thing."

Kirishima’s head snaps towards him, eyes big and round. There are water droplets in his eyebrows.

"You have another headache? Man, why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Kiri grabs his bottle from Bakugou, their fingers touch. Kiri smiles and walks towards the door. His hand reaches for the handle and it creaks under the movement.

"School," Bakugou says, voice calm while he shrugs.

"Let’s get dry and then I can come over? Whatcha say?"

Bakugou nods, brushes past Kirishima holding the door open. The arm that was around his shoulder slides off and it’s immediately cold where it lay. It’s now freezing in the hallway, especially dripping wet.

"D’you think Sero has a crush on Denki?"

Bakugou huffs, towel rubbing over his ears. They’re in the baths, air warm from their recent shower. The mirror Bakugou stands in front of is fogged up and Kirishima reaches over, hand smearing across the glass until his image is visible.

"I don’t care."

"Come on, gossip with me," Kirishima pokes his finger into Bakugou’s shoulder and the blond doesn’t even turn to look.

"No."

"But you always have the best takes."

"Shut up."

"Katsukiii please."

The towel drops. The sky breaks open and a few late sunbeams work their way through the clouds, illuminating UA in the softest glow. The boys are inside though, the warm bathroom shielding them from the outside, they can’t see.

But Bakugou looks at Kirishima and he simply knows, knows the grey is making space for evening blues and purples, knows the muddy yellow will turn into clear orange.

"I won’t spill Tapeface's secrets."

"Not even to me?" The puppy eyes get ignored.

"Especially not to you, you can't keep your big mouth shut ever!"

"That’s not true! I never spill secrets."

Bakugou unlocks his dorm room door and watches Kiri walk in before him. Bakugou smells his shampoo, it’s a mix of something woody and sweet.

"You're spilling right now."

"Yeah but to you, that’s different."

He sits down in the desk chair, swiveling around a bit. Digging the heels of his feet into the beige carpet. He’s barefoot in Bakugou’s room and it feels intimate. Bakugou snaps a laugh, it’s dry. Kirishima perks up at it.

"It’s not different, you’re making shit up."

"Uh yeah? I like sharing with you?"

"You like talking to everyone."

He drops himself on the floor, back pressed to Kiri's shins and tipping his head back over the redhead’s knees. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it gives Bakugou enough control over the situation. Not that he’d need it here. Kiri's hands gently weave themselves through towel dried blond hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp.

"I like talking to you most though," he says simply.

"Ew."

Kirishima laughs, Bakugou closes his eyes. He lets Kiri work his fingers through his hair, lets his nails scrape and scratch in all the right places and with every minute passing by he feels the headache less and less.

They're quiet for a bit and then he goes, "Hanta's whipped as fuck."

"I KNEW it!"

The ceiling light bathes them in warm white and the sky outside is hidden behind curtains.

[hermionemonica]

Hiding it from her: Chapter 3

AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Despite going to bed way late in the night, Kagami woke up on her usual time. She was tempted to skip the gym for the day, but she knew the physical exercise would help her clear her mind before the evening. And she needed to go to the fencing academy as well, she had not shown up the previous day without any notice.  

The evening arrived faster than she would have liked it to. As the hour neared with every passing second, her anxiety reached greater heights. Even now she could not help but question herself if she was ready to face the man who she had loved with all her life, who had lied to her with a smile on his face, who had betrayed her very trust. Was she prepared to hear the answers from him?  

Since last night she had been preparing in her head what to say. How to start the conversation so that there was no way to wriggle out of it. She needed to put an end to this, to settle this once and for all. If for nothing else, at least for her own mind's peace.  

Kagami reached Adrien's apartment at 6:50 pm. As soon as she rang the bell, the door swung open and Adrien greeted her with a smile. Kagami hesitated before entering. She could not help but remember the last time she had come to this place. She breathed some determination into herself. There was a task at hand.  

“Come in here,” Adrien pulled her into a room that appeared to be Marinette's working space.  

“Are you sure I should be here?”  

“I would not have called you in otherwise!”  

Kagami looked around herself. The room was an organised mess. Absolutely Marinette. She walked over to the board set up on the wall, on which were pinned several unfinished sketches, quite possibly the ones she was working on currently. She noticed the little doodles and random words etched on the margins of the papers. Kagami smiled to herself, thinking of the eccentricities of the girl. But the smile disappeared in a moment, when she remembered what she had done to her. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest.  

“Here you go.” Adrien’s voice brought Kagami down to her immediate surroundings.  

She turned around to see him holding a dress in his arms. One of the most magnificent dresses she had ever set her eyes on.  

It was a mid-thigh length dress with a maroon satin base. The dress flared out at the waist, and a black mesh fell over the entire bottom part. Details were embroidered in gold over the mesh. The same gold circled the waist like an ornate belt. It had a halter neckline, and the collar was accentuated with a golden border.  

“Wow,” she breathed, “this is beautiful.”  

“I know, right?” Adrien exclaimed with glee. “Now put it on, I'm gonna go outside.”  

“Me?” Kagami was surprised.  

“Duh, yeah! This was made for you!” Adrien rolled his eyes, shoving the dress into her hands. “Be quick now, we have other work to do as well.” Saying so, he ran out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him.  

How hard would it be for Adrien to be a little less vague? He was making it really difficult for her to feel sorry for him.  

This was made for you, he had said. Did he mean that literally or figuratively? Recent events must have addled her brain, she was looking too much into everything.  

Kagami turned the dress around in her arms. It was a breath-taking piece of work. She admiringly ran her hand over the embroidery, feeling every stitch underneath her fingers.  

It was then that she saw it.  

Just under the belt, on the back of the dress was a very familiar pattern sewn in with the same gold. She had seen it enough times to recognise it instantly.  

Marinette's signature.  

That only added to her confusion. Marinette had made a dress for her, without her knowledge? And that was the one she was going to wear today, of all days?  

She nervously moved near the door. Leaning against it, she called out “Adrien?”  

On receiving no reply, she opened the door. Adrien was sitting in the drawing-room, and while she had a clear view of him, he could not see her because his back was turned to her. It appeared that he was talking to someone on the phone.  

“Umm... Adrien?” She said a bit louder to get his attention. It worked.  

Adrien turned around in his seat. His face immediately fell. “Yeah, I will talk to you later,” he spoke into the phone before ending the call.  

“Is there a problem?” he spoke in a concerned voice, walking towards her. “Does it not fit you?”  

“No, that's not it,” Kagami hesitated. “Adrien, are you sure I should wear this?”  

A confused look came on his face, and then he burst out laughing. “Kagami,” he said, “will you stop worrying now? Just do as I say, okay? Trust me.”  

Kagami was getting concerned, but about something else. Adrien still had the nerve to laugh? Was he losing his mind?  

Adrien pushed her back into the room. “Now please hurry up, alright? And um, maybe do something with your hair to go with the dress, okay?”  

It was all very strange but Kagami was left with no choice but to concede. Maybe this was Adrien's attempt at making her feel better about herself, of boosting her self-confidence. She stripped off the jeans and t-shirt and put on the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, she could not help but marvel at how good the dress looked on her. There was no doubt it was made for her; it was fitted to her measurements, complimenting her shape, skin tone and her eyes. Even though she and Marinette may not be on the best of terms right now, she had to praise her work.  

There were some hairbands and bobby pins and other accessories on the table, but Kagami was really not in a mood. So, she put her hair in a short braid that hung over her left shoulder.  

Kagami opened the door very silently. But she could not see Adrien anywhere. Panic began to bubble in the pit of her stomach, and she called out for him, “Adrien!”  

“Just a minute!” his voice came from the room to her left. Kagami breathed a sigh of relief. She took a seat on the couch as she waited for her friend.  

After a few moments, her ears caught the sound of a door opening behind her. She turned around just as Adrien was emerging from his room.  

Kagami saw that he was dressed up as well. He was wearing a light green formal shirt and tailored black trousers that made his legs look even longer than they originally were. He was also wearing a salmon pink tie. His hair was brushed back, and it made his cheekbones look very chiselled.  

“Oh my God, Kagami, you look... phenomenal.” Adrien's eyes were widened and his mouth was open.  

“Thank you,” she acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. “You look good too.”  

“Thanks,” Adrien flashed her a grin. “Let's go then?”  

Kagami nodded.  

Adrien produced a pair of sandals for her that perfectly went with her dress. At this point, there were so many questions in her mind that she had lost the ability to even think for herself. So she just did whatever Adrien asked her to. It didn't look like she had a choice anyway.  

When she sat in the car, she finally relaxed. She knew what was going to happen now. No more surprises, right?  

Or so she thought.  

Adrien pulled up at the side of the Liberty. “Here?” Kagami asked, because she was expecting to go to Luka's apartment. Liberty had been empty since Anarka went on tour with Jagged more than three months ago.  

“Yeah,” Adrien said, typing away on his phone. “Do me a favour Gami, just go on. I'll catch up with you in a bit.”  

“I could wait for you?” Kagami suggested.  

“Uh, I think not,” came Adrien's response, which sounded a little weird. “Seriously Kagami, you know your way around. Go on now.”  

Unsure, Kagami got out of the car. Adrien was right, she did know her way around this place pretty well, having spent a lot of her late teenage years there. Luka used to help her sneak out behind her mother’s back, and most of the time they would just chill on the houseboat. Luka would play his songs on his guitar for her. She had had her first kiss with-  

No. Snap out of it, Kagami. This was not the time to think about all that stuff.  

Kagami stepped up on the deck. Strangely, most of the lights were out. She began to doubt if Adrien had brought them to the right place after all.  

Unconsciously, her steps had brought her to Luka's old room. Well, technically Luka and Juleka's old room. The room was dark, and presuming it to be empty, Kagami began to retrace her steps out of the room.  

Just then she stopped. Someone began to play a guitar inside the room. A nostalgic, romantic tune. She spun around on her heels just in time to see the room be lit up in fairy lights.  

And sitting on the bed, with a guitar slung over his shoulder, was Luka Couffaine.  

Kagami was stunned into silence. What exactly it was that rendered her speechless was uncertain. It could be seeing Luka appear out of the darkness, or the pretty way the lights lit up the deck, or how ethereally handsome Luka was looking in that purple shirt (and that maroon tie that was exactly the same shade as the dress she was wearing). But at that moment, she lost all ability to think, speak, or move by herself. So she stood there, staring at the man in front of her, forgetting what she had even come here for in the first place.  

“Hey,” Luka said nervously. Receiving no reply, he went on. “I am so sorry, my melody, for keeping you out of everything. I am really bad at hiding things, as you know. And since this isn't something I could have told you, I had to hide it from you. But turns out, I messed up big time, huh?” He let out a little laugh. Kagami was still frozen with the same expression on her face, so Luka decided to take the risk of walking a few steps towards her. “I really did not mean to make you feel left out of it. It's just, you know, I couldn't tell you. I know I did a bad job at it and you have every right to be pissed at me, but please talk to me, babe.”  

“Wha- what's going on?” she finally managed.  

Luka smiled, in that handsomely Luka way of his that made her melt into a puddle every time. It was only with a lot of conscious effort that she managed to hold her composure, although her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Thank goodness for the dim lights.  

“Kagami, I love you,” as he spoke he kept walking towards her, “I love you so much. My life has been infinitely better since you became a part of it. There is nothing I feel luckier about than you loving me. You make me feel whole. The last twenty-four hours have been such a torture for me. And I never ever want to spend another moment separated from you, as long as I live.”  

Saying so, he took a box out of his pocket and got down on one knee in front of her. He opened the box and held it up in front of her. It was a ring. “Kagami Tsurugi, my Dragon Queen, will you marry me?”  

Kagami's eyes widened. “Wait,” she said, “what is happening?”  

“I-uh, I am proposing to you?”  

“And can you please smile a bit Kagami? You're ruining the shot.”  

Kagami's head turned to the side to see who spoke.  

“Marinette?”  

“Yes, that's me. Now don't bother us,” she said as Adrien appeared behind her, “keep going.”  

Kagami looked back and forth between them. “This is so not what I was expecting.” She clapped her hand to her forehead.  

Luka stood up, concerned. “My melody, are you okay?”  

“This is what was going on these last few days?” Kagami whispered, almost on the verge of tears.  

“I guess I'm allowed to tell you now,” Luka rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, this is what I had been planning behind your back.”  

“And you,” she turned to look at Adrien and Marinette in the doorway, “You two were a part of this?”  

“Well yeah,” Adrien sounded just as nervous.  

“Please don’t murder us Kagami,” Marinette said.  

Kagami turned to look at Luka. “I am so sorry,” she muttered, before embracing him with all her strength. “I am so sorry for ever doubting you.”  

“My love,” Luka wrapped his free arm around her.  

After a while, she let go of him. “And I owe you an apology too, Marinette,” she turned to her, “Please forgive me.”  

“I have no idea what is happening, but I forgive you. Although I have no idea what I'm forgiving you for. Please don't tell me later that you made me forgive you for eating my chocolate croissants, because you know I would never forgive you if you did that,” she ended with a fake glare, making everyone burst into laughter.  

“By the way,” Luka said, with a smirk, “I didn't quite catch your reply back then?”  

It took Kagami a while before she got what he was talking about. And then her face broke into a radiant smile. She grabbed Luka's face and pulled him down to her level to rest her forehead against his. “Yes!” her voice was both emotional and excited, “Yes, yeah yes! Of course I will marry you, my snake prince!”  

“And now I got a perfect photo!” Marinette cheered on.  

Luka put the ring onto Kagami's finger. It was a gold ring; the top of the ring was in the shape of a dragon's head with a ruby set in the place of its eye. Kagami gasped, making Luka smile. He then lifted her chin slightly to kiss her. Kagami wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled against his lips.  

They broke off after a minute. “By the way, Marinette,” Kagami turned around in Luka's arms with a stern look on her face, “I am going to have a word with your boyfriend for confusing my brain all evening.”  

Adrien laughed nervously, but Marinette blushed red. “Actually,” she spoke in a little voice, “My fiance."

“What!” Luka and Kagami exclaimed at the same time.  

Marinette held up her hand to show them the sapphire ring that sat on her finger.  

“When did this happen?” It was Luka who asked.  

“This morning,” Marinette replied, “Right after I woke up.”  

“Way to go, Adrien!”  

“What?” Adrien raised an eyebrow, “You guys really thought I was going to let Luka beat me at this?���  

Marinette playfully smacked him in his chest.  

Kagami noticed that the shade of Adrien’s tie matched the colour of the dress Marinette was wearing, just like her and Luka. Oh. So this was the entire fuss about the dress.  

“Let's take a group selfie?” she suggested.  

“Hell yeah!”

[midgethetree]

@ethanmcgregor​​ replied to your post “Holiday Stuff Is Seasonal Part 2”

Only one question: will there be a part 3?

I’d love to make a part 3, the main reason I haven’t yet is because most of the remaining seasonal meshes seem to take up floor/surface/wall space and I wasn’t sure how to best handle them in other seasons other than just making them disappear and leave behind a weird empty-yet-unusable space. One exception I noticed after the fact was those Happy Holiday bells hanging from the ceiling but I don’t think I’d use those even if they did self-vanish.

Some ideas that I thought could work well but I didn’t do are:

Clones of the seasons welcome mat and streetlight with banner where the mat/banner would be unrecolorable but auto-rotate between the Maxis seasonal recolors. Clones because the welcome mat already has some nonseasonal recolors (at least I remember a rooster recolor), I’ve seen neat nonseasonal CC recolors for the streetlight and think it has a lot of potential for even more, and maybe some lots just want flower/sun/whatever imagery year-round IDK. The seasons mat would be a super quick project, streetlight possibly a little longer to do because there are actually two versions of each seasonal recolor for the lit/unlit states which adds another layer of complexity but it’d probably be easy enough too in the end. I’ve just been dragging my feet, basically.

I’d love some garlands, particularly for stair railings and fences (for balcony railings), but the sets I found were either more high-poly than I wanted (the one on MTS, which didn’t even include stairs anyway) or didn’t look like what I wanted in game (the two I found for stairs on TSR). Also I specifically really wanted stair garlands that would fit those M&G double stairs with the curved railings, not just straight and spiral stairs, and only one set I found included garlands fitting those stairs. The coding part of this would be easy at least, they could function exactly like the part 2 items and just vanish themselves without leaving a weird undecorated space, just need someone to make meshes I actually like.

A seasonal floral centerpiece. It could alternate between a poinsettia, some spring flowers, summer flowers, and a cornucopia or something. Main issue was that with a lot of flower arrangements both the vase and flowers are recolorable, but if there are three different arrangements with completely different flowers and vases that’s six recolorable subsets and TS2 didn’t like me trying to do that. Apparently the two recolorable subset limit is per object not per mesh, and when one season’s mesh takes up both those subsets that’s no fun for the other seasons. Best idea for how to move forward is to separate a bunch of flowers and vases and edit the meshes so they could be seamlessly interchanged, and if that could be done maybe the flowers would be separate self-hiding objects instead of one mesh-rotating object so each one could be recolorable and maybe there could be multiple meshes per season (at least spring and summer) so players could pick which spring/summer flowers to use... Once again though usable meshes for this don’t appear to exist and my meshing skills are limited.

I also would love to do stuff for other holidays/seasons, particularly Halloween. My first idea was Jack-O-Lanterns but after some thought I realized with the Sun & Moon pumpkin carving station I don’t really mind making my sims carve a new Jack-O-Lantern every year and throwing it away when it rots. I also did make a mental note of the menorah and kinara Maxis gave us but see my previous comment about objects that take up surface space that will otherwise be empty and unusable. If anyone has an idea for a more generic object that they could transform into for other seasons ala the part one stuff I’m all ears.

Anyway yeah this is a longer response than you maybe wanted but I saw there was a lot of interest in this series and thought I should throw my half-baked ideas out there so y’all could tell me if you know meshes that might help make them a reality or have any other suggestions I didn’t think of. I'm also happy to answer questions about how I did it if anyone wants to try making some themselves and gets stuck!

[meaninglessblah-writes]

Writing Prompt Wednesday

“No one's going to hurt you,” the man says, expression gentle as he crouches at Jason’s side. 

Jason sincerely doubts that. Especially given his hands are currently zip tied to a drainpipe and whatever disagreements he might have are muffled by the cloth threaded through his teeth. He settles for glaring, pulling his threadbare sneakers in closer to his body where he sits, curled against the filthy wall. 

The man sighs, massaging his wrists as he glances back over his shoulder at the two goons who watch on distrustfully. Jason had gotten in a good kick to the uglier one’s shins before they’d managed to pin him down and secure him. That one gives him a sneer before shifting his gaze away. 

“We don’t want you to come to any harm,” the man repeats, holding Jason’s glower with what he supposes counts as sincerity. He’s the most eloquent of Roman’s men, by a large fucking margin, but that doesn’t make him any more trustworthy. Jason’s not buying the good-cop-bad-cop routine. 

Jason shifts his aching shoulders and glares at the raw, abraded skin around his bound wrists. 

“But,” the man continues, sighing heavily, “we need to know where you put that package, kid. It’s important that you tell us.” 

Jason understands that loud and clear. If he could spit at the man’s feet right now, he probably would. It’d get him a boot to the recently healed rib, but he could probably earn it. 

It’s not like his prospects are going to improve any if he tells them the truth. 

“Can you do that, kid?” 

Jason swallows around the spit-soaked cloth, shoulders creeping towards his ears as he avoids the man’s gaze. His arms ache, from more than just circulation, his heart bleating a rapid tempo in his narrow chest. 

“I want to let you go,” the man implores, offering Jason a soft smile. It slides from his face like water. “But the boss… Well, let’s just say he and I see on some things a bit differently.” 

Oh, Jason’s very keenly aware of exactly how differently his situation would be if Roman had been the one to get his hands on him. The fact that he’s being hounded by an intermediary right now instead of the crime lord is probably the only stroke of luck Jason’s had all evening. 

“So let’s get this sorted out, shall we? You help me get that package back, and I’ll help you find your way home.” 

Jason shifts where he’s seated, the bone of his ankle knocking the concrete and sending a spiral of pins up his shin. He tries to keep his expression heated, that perfect mask of fury. Tries not to let the man see exactly how anxious Jason really is, with two empty pockets and no package to his name. 

It’s not like he lost the package. He just… misplaced it. Somewhere between the Bowery and his run up the Water District, while he was dodging cops and ducking goons. He’d sort of had other things on his mind. 

Jason thinks he might know where he left it. He’d crawled through a fence at one point, peeling back the mesh wire as far as it would go to wriggle through the gap. It hadn’t quite been enough, his thin sneakers scrabbling on the pavement, shredding through the brown roots of persistent weeds. 

Maybe he’d dropped it. Maybe it had slipped out of his pocket. It wouldn’t be the first time Jason had lost something as a consequence of threadbare clothing. It’s just, he usually doesn’t have a several hundred thousand dollar ring in his pocket to lose. 

Not for the first time, Jason regrets taking this job. 

He’d needed the money - of course he’d needed the money - and he was a good courier. The Black Masks like to use kids from the Alley to run their product around. Plausible deniability and minor offences and whatnot. Jason’s been running for the Masks since he was eight. 

It was usually drugs. Sometimes it was just errands, food or cigarettes brought to mobsters on stakeouts. They’d give him the cash and a time limit, and Jason would show up on time, every time. 

He was good at couriering. That’s probably why the intermediary had pulled him aside, promised him an extra cut for a better job, something important. Something that would get him the right sort of attention from the right sort of people. 

Jason didn’t really want the attention. He didn’t want to be a courier forever, but it sure beat the grunt work he’d watched his father do for years. Less chance of getting shot as a courier. The worst Jason had to worry about was maybe a sprained ankle and a night in lock up until someone came to collect him with a slap on the wrist. 

He was never stupid enough to get caught with product on him. He knows all the best hiding spots in the Alley. Knows all the spots no one else knows about, the less popular cracks and crevices spotted throughout the landscape. 

The intermediary probably figured he’d stashed the package when the cops had shown up. They’d known, somehow, that an exchange was happening. Even if they’d been a few minutes behind the mark. It’d been enough to throw the deal into chaos, had given the intermediary enough time to slip the little box into Jason’s palm and shove him towards the back exit. 

He was a fast runner, good at sprinting, so he’d dodged the sirens and the lights and cut through some of the backstreets to avoid the first wave of cops. Hadn’t given much thought to whether the intermediary would be there to retrieve the package at the other end. 

Evidently, he was a decent runner too, because here he was, grilling Jason for the location of a package he didn’t have and didn’t know where to find. 

He has an idea of where it may be. Not that he’s going to mention that to the intermediary. He doubts it’s going to go down well if they take him to the location and walk away empty-handed. Admitting he doesn’t quite know where it may be is just as bad as admitting he doesn’t know where the package is period. 

You can send me a prompt here!