yoshinorikka-blog

[ikissjude]

pass or fail .. ☆ pjs

in which bf!jay hilariously fails a “loyalty test” | tiktok series

jay x reader, fluff, crack-ish, warnings: kinda cringe at the end, a kiss, not much dialogue

you loved lazy days. you especially loved lazy days with your beautiful boyfriend, jay. it wasn’t often that you got them, mostly considering that jay was a busy man. if he could help it, jay would take you out every weekend, but you knew he needed the rest and didn’t mind going out every other week.

that’s how you usually spent your weekends: laid up together, limbs tangled up under your covers, with the sun peeking through the curtains. you didn’t mind it at all, soaking up the sunlight and sitting in a comfortable silence with your boyfriend. during this time, it was easy to slip into the rabbit hole that was tiktok. the clock app never loosened the grip it had on you, oftentimes scrolling through videos mindlessly.

dance videos flooded your for you page. you tend to save a lot of them to maybe try and learn later. you stopped scrolling when one specific video caught your eye.

the way the curly-haired singer glided across your screen mesmerized you. the dance was truly addictive, leaving you to save the video in your collection. you honestly wished you could move the way tyla did.

looking through the sound, it seemed like the dance was blowing up. tons of dancers swayed their hips to the sound effortlessly. continuing to scroll, you stopped on a video of a girl ‘testing’ her boyfriend with the sound.

you had seen this prank before with another tyla video. it was kind of funny to see the guys try to look discreetly. with jay right beside you, you figured, “why not?”

by no means were you an insecure person. in fact, you actually loved tyla and admired her skills as a singer and dancer. jay was also not the biggest fan of tiktok, often spending his lazy days scrolling through twitter or reading a book on his phone. there’s no way he could’ve seen the dance going around, right?

clicking the sound, you turned away a bit to make sure the camera had a good view of your boyfriend. after turning up the volume level on your phone a bit, you pressed record. the song played for a few seconds, and for a moment, you really thought jay wouldn’t look back towards the camera. he almost passed your little ‘test’, except… was that his eye?

“park jongseong!” you yelped. you couldn’t believe what you just saw. your jaw dropped when you looked back at your man, only to see him smirking and continuing to read his book.

“i honestly had a feeling you were going to do this sooner or later.” he said.

“you’re not even super active on tiktok? how do you know the trend?”

“riki showed us the video, you know how obsessed he is with tyla.” you should’ve known, as riki loved tyla as much as you did. still, you might need to rethink just how chronically online your boyfriend must actually be.

“you’re not mad i looked, are you?” jay turned his body towards you. by the way your back was still turned to him and your bottom lip jutted out; he wanted to make sure you weren’t genuinely upset.

“no, seong, i’m not mad,” you turned around to look your boyfriend in the eye. “it’s not like tyla is super famous, super talented, pretty, and has an amazing body.” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“yeah, well, while that might be true, just know you’re better,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “and you want to know why that is?”

“why is that, park jongseong?”

jay gazed deeply into your eyes before capturing your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“because you’re mine.”

© ikissjude 2024

[changisworld]

Watersports with Seungmin

word count:2,022

18+, MDNI!! smut below the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

Seventh part of my eight part masterlist of the extension of this & this headcanon of the members!!;3

Kinks & pleasures masterlist here main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: Piss(obviously), dom!seung??, subbish reader, so much praise, face sitting, mention of omorashi, hair pulling, tinyyy bit of manhandling, fingering(f rec), cum eating, piss digestion, reader is a bit shy, but comes out her shell:3, seungmin cums untouched hehe

->If this isn't your cup of tea, simply don't read, I know this is a more of a taboo kink compared to pretty much everything I've written so far but ever since I've came to the realisation I luv it,I just needed an excuse to write it heheh, remember & always research new kinks before trying to stay as safe as possible!

You & Seungmin have clicked extremely well since the minute you both met, emotionally, physically & also sexually, very sexually.

You both quickly come to the realisation that you're both very open to trying new things & you both also fall into your roles almost instantly, it now being obvious that he is the dom & calls the shots, you have always been a switch but you never complain at the dynamics, on the odd occasion you try switch roles, Minnie is quick to shut it down (but you'll switch the roles one day)

When Seungmin was sitting with you in your bed, his head on your chest as you twiddle your fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp as you're just scrolling on your phone.

"Y/nnnnnn, I wanna tell you something." he speaks nonchalantly, elongating his words as his own eyes still glued to his own phone, you simply hum a 'mhmm', not expecting what he is about to say at all, but that's mainly your own fault because you should know that he really has no filter around you & the chances of him saying something outlandish is extremely high.

Seungmin takes a small but still overdramatic sigh before continuing He asks, his voice trying to sound natural but you know him far too well by now to know he is a bit nervous to ask & even more nervous to hear your response, turning up the volume by one on his phone to try ease the small bit of tension.

You already kinda knew this question was gonna come up at some point, as his obsession with making you squirt at least once every time you orgasm & also the way he just loves the look on your face & the ay you react when he forces you to hold your bladder while he gives you yet another drink.

"We could try it, but it's a bit scary, what if I embarrass myself or you like, throw up or something." you half joke, turning off your phone & tapping his cheek, indicating for him to look up at you, but he moves himself to look at you as he hugs into you, scoffing at your words.

"Wayyy worse things have happened during sex, remember when I literally almost died from when you almost snapped my banjo when you were on top! I know I won't throw up so don't be silly! I'm dying to try, nothing you do would make me cringe, unless it's you biting ice cream in front of me." he chuckles before kissing your cheek & flashing you his gorgeous toothy smile, his pretty cheeks pressing so cutely against his features.

That's how you've ended up in the position you're now in. You're laying on your back on your bed, with two layers of towels covering the duvet, because you for some reason both think just two layers is enough to keep your sheets dry. You're laying naked, your room a nice, warm comfortable temperature as a random christmas smelling candle is burning as seungmin is nibbling on your tongue as he kisses you deeply, him also being naked, not including just his boxers that are uncomfortably tight around his already hardening cock.

"Are you still fully sure you wanna do this? We can still do something completely different or we can do what we usually do, I won't be upset." Seungmin asks, his voice soft as he parts his lips with yours & looks into your eyes, his hand caressing your lower tummy, right above your full bladder from the multiple glasses of water you've drank just for this moment.

"Wanna do it, I trust you" you smile at him as your fingers daintily touch over his faint abs. Seungmin smiles at you that little bit extra as he nods his head & kisses your nose before he rolls you both over so you've switched positions, Seungmin now on his back & he is quick to grab onto you to help you straddle him as he shuffles his head off the pillows so his head is on the towel too.

He wraps his arms beneath your armpits & pulls you down to lock lips with you again as his fingers push down on on your bladder, making you squirm as you tense up in his hold.

"want you to sit on my face, c'mere" he rasps, excitement in his voice. You would say no to absolutely anyone else if they were to ever ask you, but you shove all your nerves about potentially hurting him down your throat as you follow what he says, almost as if you're in some sort of spell.

You position yourself above his face, his eyes glistening up at you, darting from your face, to your tits, down to your leaking pussy, admiring each one for the billionth time.

"You look so pretty from here, letting me do this to you, thank you jagi" he mumbles in awe as he pulls you down onto his face & the verbal response that you were gonna give him dies in your throat as you let out a gasp, his tongue not wasting even a second before he's making quick work of parting your folds with his tongue, groaning at your taste.

"Fuck Minnie, tongue feels so good" you whimper as one hand rests on the headboard of the bed & your other hand finds it's way into his hair, it's usual spot & you tug on it lightly, giving him the slightly painful but pleasure he is now addicted to.

Seungmin hums at the taste of you, the taste genuinely being in probably the top five things on this earth. His nose nudges against your clit as his tongue decides to get a stronger & deeper taste, fucking it's way into your soaked hole you accidentally grind on his face before putting a quick stop to it, but he is having none of it as he grabs onto your ass to push & pull you back & forth against his face, making your eyes scrunch closed.

You throw your head back as Seungmin's lips suckle on your clit, slurping your wetness & also his own spit back into his mouth before spitting it back onto you, just to repeat the process & your mind is going numb, you can already feel your orgasm starting to bubble but you're forcing yourself to hold back.

You keep mumbling out small praises to the man sucking your soul out of your body, his tongue curling around your button & kitten licking it at a rapid pace. One of his hands move from your ass & lands it on your lower tummy before he starts pushing down on the skin, not too much but enough to make you quease at the feeling, making you try jolt away from the feeling, but he's quick to keep you in place.

"Seung, wanna cum" you whimper as you look down at him, his eyes already looking up at you in almost amazement, looking up at you if he is the cat that got the cream & in his mind, he has.

He lifts you off him just enough to finally speak, using the opportunity to also actually breathe since he's been too happy in between your thighs that he's forgot how to actually take a breath.

"Don't cum till you do what we agreed, maky? Want it so bad, let go for me" he pants, his lower face shiny with your arousal. While he says this, he enters two fingers into you, so you're still getting some sensation & to make sure your upcoming release doesn't completely disappear.

"Don't needa pee Minnie" you whimper, obviously lying as your hips thrusting to get more feeling from his fingers curling inside you, hitting just the spot & Seungmin pouts as he presses even harder down on you bladder & you squeak, clenching has hard as you can to not burst & he tuts.

"Don't lie, you're so good f'me all the time so don't stop now, wanna taste you as much as possible hunny" he purrs before pulling his fingers out of you & then pulling you back onto his face, getting back to massaging your cunt with his tongue as he then taps his two fingers at your lips & you open your mouth to suckle on them instinctively, but all the while, the urge to just completely relax & let go is getting more & more tempting.

Your legs begin to tense up & start to shake as he keeps pushing on you bladder as his tongue suctions onto your clit, his pretty pink lips wrapped around it & by the way your thighs are moving around his head, he knows you're close.

"G-gonna pee Min, wanna cum" you squeak finally swallowing the last part of the pride you have left & you stop clenching, letting all your muscles react & before you have even a second to stop yourself or have any second thoughts, you've let go & a golden stream escapes you, coating the man beneath you's face, your own thighs & also quickly making it's way through the layers of towels, no doubt soaking the sheets below, not that you could be paid to care anyway.

Seungmin moans at the sight & taste, the taste so completely raw & unfiltered in the best way possible as he pulls you just off his face & he slithers three fingers into you this time, bullying into your G-spot as the gush slows down, but your orgasm does anything but that, as you feel it catching up to you quicker than you think it ever has before.

"So good for me y/n, so beautiful, I can tell you're close, cmon" he purrs, looking up at your shaking frame as he is bashing his fingers against your gummy spot & his words just push you over the edge.

You were already clenching around his fingers before, but he is convinced you're gonna rip off his fingers with how hard you're clenching around him as you grip onto the headboard with both hands as you're breathing rapidly, letting out a squeal as you cream around his fingers.

Your orgasm seems to be lasting forever but who is Seungmin to complain? He came five minutes ago untouched so he is just honoured that you're cumming because of him.

Once you settle down & are actually able to open your eyes, Seungmin slowly removes his fingers from your gushing cunt & helps move you so you're laying on the only dry spot left on the bed, which just gets wet anyways as Seungmin moves around, your piss dripping down his pretty toned skin onto the bed.

"How was it? Be fully honest!" you ask, slightly nervous for his response, kinda terrified in case it was nothing like he wanted or expected it to be. "Better than I thought, thank you for letting me try it with you, trust me when I say I loved it, even came in my pants" he giggles & you look down & see a huge wet patch & you giggle back, blushing that you've had this effect on him.

"Let's get you & this room clean mkay? the room doesn't smell of christmas anymore" he teases as he helps get you in the shower before hopping in with you & helping you both clean each other.. after he strips the bedsheets.

->Anon list & tag list is open!

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[hopeluna]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ — Barista!Izuku Midoriya

♡! hope's notes: this is 50% unrealistic and 50% self indulgent. Tell me what u think lol <3

It's 7 in the morning when you realise that you're truly, utterly fucked.

You try to convince yourself that it was really your alarm's fault for not waking you up. Because now you are desperately trying to shove everything in your bag, while chewing on the world's driest granola bar and make your way out of your apartment.

You do the calculation in your head as you make your way down the stairs, trying not to trip. Your class is supposed start at 7:15, so you have approximately 5 minutes to get a much needed cup of coffee. And then you need to make run for your class which is 15 minutes, hoping to whatever deity that you'll reach there in 10 minutes.

A groan of frustration escapes you on the sidewalk at the utter slow pace the lady is moving in front of you, talking animatedly on the phone.

You've been late to class enough times this entire week that you're convinced your professor is going to shoot you in the head today. The first thing you notice in front of the cafe is how cute and cozy it looked. Like something straight out of a rom-com set.

There were small little coffee shops like this scattered through almost every road corner outside the campus. Coffee shops, cheap diners and stationaries all looking out for their target customers, drained college students.

This particular coffee shop, you had realised one day talking with your friends, was new and untouched by your hands. You knew that logically it wasn't a great time right now to experiment newly opened shops, no matter how much your friends had been praising the place but you were already late, and the decor and smell of roasted coffee beans seemed too appetizing to pass up.

The gentle chime of the bell at the entrance almost made you forget that your life could possibly be on the line in less than 10 minutes. Your shoulders loose some tension at the faint but noticeable fragrance in the air, the smell of coffee and the muffled sounds of students clicking away on their computers, couples chatting away in excitement and the sound of the workers behind the counter.

Oh yeah, you were definitely forgetting about class for some minutes.

Tapping your fingers to a random rhythm, your eyes immediately go to the cheapest drink on the big menu overhead the counter. Being a college student, you weren't really raking up the big bucks and would rather like to be able to afford instant ramen in the future.

And that's when it happened.

You swore that you almost went blind for about 2 seconds at the absolute beaming, sunshine-filled smile the barista gave you. The simple words "what can I get for you today?" suddenly sounded like the most holiest piece of angel music coming out of his mouth. He was cute, like a lot, with lush green curls falling messily atop his head, freckles doted like stars across his cheeks. You briefly registered the small "Midoriya" name plate attached to his shirt.

"Um, e-excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"I- what can I get you, ma'am?"

"Your number, hopefully"

Shit. The wide eyes and the full flush creeping up on his cheeks made you almost shriek in horror, you didn't mean to say that aloud. Suddenly, the once calming air felt stifling and uncomfortable.

"Uh! I mean- no!", wincing at your own volume, you suddenly wished that the earth would just open up and swallow you whole. "You see, um, that was- a joke! A bad joke!". It took all your strength to not bash your head on the counter under your sweaty palms, cringing at yourself.

The nervous laugh that "Midoriya" let out certainly didn't help the situation either.

You felt the tension lifting off your chest when a girl came up to the counter to ask for more creamer. The next course of action was probably not your proudest moment, definitely something you would look back at and curse yourself for. In your defence, your mind felt scrambled and fried at the whole interaction, so you did the only thing your brain managed to comprehend. You ran.

A few minutes later, already at your campus, you stopped for a second for breath. The frustrated whine you let out next was met with some questioning glances your way that you could not be bothered about right now, your mind only swirling with one thing.

You didn't even get your fucking coffee.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[gunnerfc]

Laia Codina NSFW Alphabet (18+, Minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Laia will have a bath or shower ready the moment you’ve fully calmed down

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Laia’s favorite body part is her hands, for a few reasons but mainly because she loves wrapping her fingers around your throat

Her favorite body part of yours is your legs, she loves having them wrapped around her body when she’s fucking you

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

The second she’s done going down on you, she’s kissing you hard so you can get a taste

D: Dirty Secret 

Wants to experiment with having semi public sex, like in the car somewhere

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

She’s experienced but not a lot when it comes to being the more dominant person in the bedroom so that has been a learning curve that she has overcome quickly

F: Favorite Position 

Whatever position she can comfortably wrap her hand around your neck works for her

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Both, but Laia was more giggly in the beginning because she was unsure of what to do when she was giving but as time passed and she got more comfortable, she’s become more serious

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

She is very intimate during sex despite some of the harsher acts that happen (re: light choking)

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

Will talk you through it & tell you what to do and when, either on the phone or in person

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Choking, either being choked or doing the choking but lightly

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Anywhere works for her! if it can happen, it’s gonna happen

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Hearing you speak Spanish, regardless if it’s your native language or not, she finds it very attractive

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

She’s not opposed to anything really, if you want to try something she’s willing to try it once

If you both like it, then it is something you can continue exploring

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Laia loves giving, sometimes it’s the only thing she wants to do, and doesn’t care about receiving anything

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

It’s a mix but leans more towards fast and rough on most occasions

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Big fan! you two have had so many quickies that you’ve become a pro at having quick sex when you’re in a rush for something

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

She is! As mentioned above, if you come to her wanting to try something new, she’s open to it

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two can go for many rounds, sometimes trying to do one more than the time before

T: Toys 

When toys are used, you both love to use a double-ended strap so you both are receiving at the same time

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

You both tease each other very often in the bedroom

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

Laia will be loud every time unless you’re somewhere you need to be quiet

She knows how to control her volume

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

Laia didn’t know she was into choking (either way) until it accidentally happened when she slid her hand up your body towards your neck and lightly squeezed. She almost panicked but then she heard you moan and something clicked for her

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s high, it’s like she can’t get enough

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It depends, if you two had a busy day and went for longer more intense rounds, she’ll fall asleep quicker than other times

[marlynnofmany]

Shore Leave

I didn’t think I was homesick until I caught the unexpected sound of a toddler’s wild laughter from the spaceship bridge. Out in the hall, I whipped around to stick my head through the door with some very unprofessional curiosity. That hadn’t been an alien noise.

Up on screen was our new client who the captain was negotiating with, and also the client’s young daughter. She’d apparently come into Daddy’s room to show the nice aliens on the video call her favorite noisemaker.

“Okay honey, they think it’s great. Go on back to—” the patient father was interrupted by an electronic fart sound on high volume, and even louder peals of laughter from his child. “I’m sorry,” he said to the captain as he scooped up the wiggly youngster and carried her out of frame.

Captain Sunlight waited patiently, every inch the dignified yellow lizard alien who wasn’t about to let someone’s gleeful offspring ruffle her calm.

The human came back, minus the child but with a new food smear on the shoulder of his crisp uniform shirt. Nobody told him. The conversation resumed with nary a giggle, and with me waiting in the hall.

“…By that timeframe or sooner,” Captain Sunlight concluded. “We can’t have your colony going without the comforts of home for long! Farewell.” She held her position as Wio flicked a button with one blue-ringed tentacle, and the screen clicked off.

“I volunteer,” I said.

A lesser captain might have twitched, but she probably knew I was there. “That saves me the trouble of finding you to ask,” she said smoothly, turning her chair. “It’s a big delivery, with multiple cases, so we’ll get a couple others to go along too.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll love to visit a human colony.”

“Though we won’t need too much lifting power,” she continued, “Because it’s a lower-gravity world.”

“Yay!” I said with an honest grin. “That’s even better.”

***

Getting the shipment down the ramp was surprisingly difficult, because the hoversled was calibrated for the artificial gravity inside our ship. Even with Mimi clinging to the control panel as it passed the barrier, the dang thing bounced.

I leaped to pull it down; Paint shrieked and leapt out of the way; Zhee yelled at both of us; Mimi cranked the controls and overcorrected, almost crushing my feet. I leapt back next to Paint, who had already stumbled in the low gravity and fallen on orange sand that was actually a decent match for her scales. I managed not to land on top of her.

“Got it,” Mimi grumbled in that rough voice that always seemed out of place on a guy who looked like an octopus the color of mint chip ice cream. He scrambled off the back of the sled. “Don’t touch the controls until you get back.”

“Understood,” Zhee said, clicking forward to follow the sled. He made the best exit of all of us, only springing upward a little. All those legs probably helped. Bug aliens weren’t known for tripping over their own feet — something that Zhee was insufferably smug about, and something that I would never let him live down if it actually happened. Not today, though.

The minor excitement had made it obvious that the air on this low-grav world was indeed as thin as the scans had said, and there was no point in toughing it out until we got indoors. The three of us got our feet under us and put on the vaguely-uncomfortable breathing masks, then began maneuvering the sled as a team. Really Zhee was doing all of the work while Paint and I held onto the sides and calibrated our own relationships with gravity, but we could pretend. And the long walk across the landing pad gave me a chance to take in the sights.

The landing pad itself was pretty boring; a couple silver-gray ships on one side and a wide stone building on the other. No sign of our contact yet, but the instructions had been to meet at the sun-shelter. So that’s where we went. At a hoppity-bouncy pace that probably would have looked very silly to any local humans if they were out to see us yet.

As we got closer to the big sun-shelter, I could better appreciate the way its shape seemed built to funnel cool air in and warm air out. Also the view off the cliff. I got a good look at that too, over the edges of the flat hilltop that the landing pad covered.

My first impression was: weird desert. Sandy hillsides in reds and oranges, with a sun that was just above those hills, and already hot. A bunch of alien trees scattered around that looked like they wanted to be cacti. They were almost familiar, as if they’d been designed by someone who only had third-hand descriptions of Earth plants to work with.

The low gravity let them get wild in ways that would collapse back home. The tallest ones spread up into the sky in cylinders that bent and quested out in every direction like curious snakes, but at a vast scale. Others spiraled straight up like unicorn horns, or twisted together like lumpy brains the size of a house, or feathered out like thick fan blades with fractal patterns. A couple were probably star-shaped if you cut a cross section, and the sides reached out to make dividers that were probably handy to hide behind in a sandstorm.

I was so busy looking at the cactus trees and trying to decide if they had spines or not that I was surprised when the hoversled stopped. We’d reached the shelter.

Zhee rapped on the door with his pincher arm. It was stone too, and would have hurt my knuckles.

Where is everybody? I thought, looking around at the sun-bright area. It sure is getting hot out.

The door slid wide to the welcome sight of another human, who immediately ushered us inside.

“Come come, bring it in!” she said, waving both hands and bounding aside. Her skin was dark and her clothes were drapey, and she seemed to consider the matter urgent. Given how much the top of my head was starting to cook, I didn’t blame her.

The door wasn’t big enough for the sled. So we unloaded it through the doorway, as quickly as possible, with me sliding close to the human and Zhee standing on the sled and Paint standing behind it to push boxes forward and comment that the extreme heat was kind of nice, actually.

But even she, coldblooded though she was, had to admit that shade was nicer by the time we got everything unloaded. She helped turn the hoversled on its side at the recommendation of the human, who still hadn’t introduced herself. Flipping it around was weirdly easy in the low-grav. Once we got even the sled inside the room — very spacious, that — the human closed the door and greeted us properly.

Yes, she was the contact we were supposed to meet. Taeya, how-do-you-do. Yes, the weather here did get shockingly hot quickly. No, it wouldn’t be pleasant to go back out into that, even for the short jaunt to the ship. Did we have to rush off, or was there time for a cooling beverage or two?

“There is!” I told her. “The captain said we have two hours of wiggle room in our schedule — usually there’s more, but we have some urgent deliveries — anyway, two hours, three tops, because she wanted to, uh, ‘give me time among my own herd.’” I made finger quotes.

Taeya beamed. “Then let me give you a tour! This stuff will keep; the people coming to unpack it won’t need any help from me. C’mon downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I asked.

She hopped behind the boxes and disappeared, waving a hand to follow. “Downstairs!”

With a glance at the others, I moved forward and floated down the red stone stairs, one hopping step at a time.

And there I found civilization.

Stairs led to streets and storefronts and vast, cavernous halls, all carved out of the rock. It was built mostly around the edges of the mesa from what I could tell, a curving, circular city with lots of air flow that left the central core solid and untouched. It didn’t quite feel like home to me, but it was so impressive that I didn’t mind.

Every boulevard had high ceilings, and even high benches, out of the way of foot traffic. Most of the surfaces were either painted or carved. And everywhere I looked, humans bounced instead of walking — which did look silly no matter how they approached it.

With the drapey, flowing, colorful clothes that everyone wore, it all looked like a society of cheerful wizards. I laughed behind my breathing mask, then asked Taeya if she thought I could take it off. She wasn’t wearing one, but then her lungs were used to thin air.

“Oh yes, I should have said,” she told me with a wave of gold-and-red sleeves. “We have oxygen generators lower down, to keep things comfortable. Along with the top-notch medical suites for keeping an eye on any low-grav degradation. Offworlders tend to ask about that.” She had a distinct twinkle in her eye as she said it.

“How handy,” I said.

Zhee peered judgmentally at the lightfooted humans. “Is that how you handle muscle atrophy? With medical adjustments?”

“Partly,” Taeya said.

“Mushers!” Paint exclaimed at the same time, pointing.

I turned, looking for sled dogs and thinking back to the time Paint had gotten to ride a hoversled while I pulled. I saw no dogs now, but a cluster of rickshaws pulled by people huffing like suburban joggers. They didn’t bounce, weighted down as they were. And their passengers looked like workout buddies urging them on until they got their own turns.

“Partly things like that,” Taeya finished smoothly.

I removed my breathing mask, eyeing a nearby restaurant and a closer flower display, then took a deep lungful of body odor and broke up laughing. When the nearest passersby had moved on, hopefully toward showers, I explained to my nonhuman crewmates that sometimes our own natural smell was unpleasant to us, with insufficient hygiene. Surely I’d told them that before.

“Right, you did,” Zhee said. “I still say it’s a deeply maladaptive trait.”

“I won’t argue with you on that count,” I told him, trying to fan the air casually.

Thankfully the rest of the crowd sported a more pleasant range of scents, and we hopped on down the road.

Taeya had something else to show us before nightfall.

“Nightfall?” I asked with some concern. “We’ve only got two hours, less now. Probably closer to one.”

Taeya responded by making a sharp turn toward a row of window slits, just a few inches wide by several times my height. Outside, the sun was already getting low.

“Oh,” I said eloquently.

“It’s the perfect time to see the flitters come out,” Taeya said with another hand wave. “Come on.”

More bouncing steps, another beautiful hallway full of murals, and another curving stairway down. Then we were, surprisingly, outside.

A sprawling garden of alien succulents covered the ground, with low burrows that I noticed moments before brilliantly-colored creatures began scampering out of them. These took to the sky in flashes of movement, flitting about as the name suggested, for all the world like tiny flying carpets that had been ferrets once.

Paint wanted to know if they bit. Zhee asked if they were food. I shook my head while Taeya told them both no. They were a lovely sight, and that’s all they needed to be. Plus they ate some local pests. Always a bonus.

The air was getting chilly already, to my surprise. Taeya did something deft with her clothes, pinning the drapey bits in a way that looked suddenly much warmer, with all that cloth wrapped around her.

“If you were staying longer, I’d suggest you get a local outfit,” she told me.

I nodded. “If I was staying longer, I’d take you up on that. Looks like a good design.” Clever and foreign, in a way that looked like several familiar things at once while managing to be none of them. And certainly nothing I’d ever worn.

Staring up at the whirling flitters as the light left the sky, I felt oddly sad. So much of this was halfway familiar, not the whole-hearted taste of home that I’d hoped for. But before I could get too maudlin, Taeya waved us back toward the carved-out city.

“C’mon, back into the good air,” she said. “One last thing before we get you back up to your ship.”

I hopped quietly after her. Zhee muttered about the theoretical taste of flitter meat while Paint made stiff-legged lizard hops out of the nighttime chill.

We were only a little ways down this new hallway before I heard music.

I bounded faster.

The great hall that Taeya led us into was lined with people around the edges, standing in rows and sitting on ledges, their voices echoing as they sang toward the center. I spotted instruments at some of the higher seats. People at the bottom swayed in time.

I didn’t know the words. But I knew the sound. A crowd of humans singing together; it was a glorious thing.

This is what I’ve been missing, I thought, breathing deeply. The air here smelled like flowers and spices and laundry detergent, and it was full of the sound of home. A vast roomful of people singing the same song, voices rebounding off the walls and bodies moving in joy.

I glanced back at Zhee and Paint. They both looked a little baffled. I asked over the music, “Do your people do much singing?”

“A bit? I guess?” Paint said. “But not all together like this.”

Zhee shook his head. “Why would you use your voice for music?” he asked. “How barbaric.”

I laughed and turned to Taeya, who was happy to teach me the words. There was even a bit of dancing with the next song, and that was an adventure in low gravity. So was the next. Zhee and Paint patiently observed from the doorway.

Then when one song ended, and a fast drumbeat paved the way for the next, I was surprised to see a number of people vacate the dance floor. I started to do the same, ready to say something about getting to the ship on time.

I didn’t realize that Taeya had left until she returned. She appeared at my elbow with two padded helmets and a smile.

“We’ve moved on to quick-beat time!” she told me over the rising music. “Does your captain need you back right now, or can you stay long enough to try a low-grav mosh pit?”

Our two hours were up and I knew it. I looked to Zhee and Paint, who were close enough to hear the conversation. Paint was sitting on one of the head-height benches. She looked down at Zhee.

He turned his head away, which meant nothing with his range of vision. He harrumphed. “Don’t break anything the medsystem can’t fix.”  

“I’ll do my best!” I told him with a grin as I accepted a helmet. “Besides, I hear they have good ones here.”

Surrounded by a mix of old and new, I joined my people in the time-honored tradition of dancing more far vigorously than common sense dictated. The captain had said three hours tops. 

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[anotherobeymeblog]

Which of the characters are the loudest in bed? 👀

I had to rewrite some of these parts three times because tumblr kept not saving the draft when I clicked "save draft" so forgive me if some of them sound a little clipped, I'm pretty annoyed about it lol

Loud

Mammon: Yeah, Mammon has absolutely no concept of volume control. Naturally, he's wildly embarrassed by this and will try to deny how loud he is even in between moans. It's pretty fun to tease him about this. It almost makes it worth all the times someone will bang on the door demanding you keep it down. Almost.

Diavolo: Idk what you expected. He sees no reason to try to hide what you're doing, so he doesn't bother keeping his voice down. And, tbh, I'm not convinced he could be quiet if he tried. This man has a big, booming voice and even his dirty talk sounds more like shouting. Barbatos isn't paid enough for this shit.

Solomon: Whore 💖 He's absolutely shameless, so you better hope no one else is in the same building as you when you fuck. Of course, if you ask him to try to be quiet, he'll happily make even more obnoxiously obscene noises just to annoy you.

Moderate

Leviathan: Levi will bite his lip raw to try to stifle his noises if you don't stop him. He's actually pretty quiet as far as like... decibels go, but his tone is so shrill, his voice carries much farther than it would otherwise. He sounds absolutely pathetic, and if you call him out for this, he will cry, but he will also cum on the spot.

Asmodeus: Okay, I know this is a hot take, but considering his vast uh. Experience, there's no way Asmo doesn't know how to adjust his volume for the situation. Much like everything else related to sex with Asmo, YMMV because he will try to shape himself into your ideal partner. However, if you do manage to get him to loosen up and stop trying to impress you, he naturally makes these clipped, high-pitched whines that are super cute, but not that loud.

Belphegor: So sex with Belphie can really be divided into two categories. Sometimes, it's slow, lazy sex where he's still half asleep and adorably clingy. In these cases, he's almost silent, with the only noises he's making being little sighs and incoherent mumbling that you think might be your name. But on the other hand, when he's in a particularly bratty mood and wants you to wreck his shit, it's a totally different story, and he will be spitting taunts at you even as the words keep getting cut off by choked moans.

Simeon: Simeon is prone to crying during sex and everyone else can fight me. He tries to maintain some semblance of dignity at first, but it never takes long before he falls apart and starts crying out freely.

Quiet

Lucifer: Yeah, the most you're getting from him is the occasional tremor in his voice. He's bad at showing vulnerability at the best of times, so you just have to get used to picking up on the way his mouth twists or his brow furrows, because you won't be getting any more obvious reactions than that. (Unless he's drunk, but that's another story altogether.)

Satan: Depending on his mood, the sounds he makes range from low growls to soft, breathy moans. Either way, it's gonna be pretty quiet, and you'd need to be within a couple feet of him to be able to hear them at all.

Beelzebub: If you're doing something particularly intense, you may be treated to some choked grunts, but otherwise, the only noises he really makes are his breath getting heavier and whispered praises that grow increasingly incoherent as he approaches his orgasm, at which point he seems to stop breathing altogether.

Barbatos: Barbatos makes these drawn-out, airy noises that are very cute, but almost inaudible if your faces aren't right up against each other. If you make it known that you want to hear him better, he won't get any louder, but instead will lean towards you to moan right in your ear.

[bow-of-aros]

Day Seven: Fidget

Summary: Ted is just trying to have a nice, relaxing afternoon. It would really help if Peter could stop with all the fucking twitching.

-

Hey guys! To make up for yesterday's half-awake fic, I present you with the Spankoffski brothers! This got really wholesome and honestly I'm super happy with it. They're so much fun to write and I hope that y'all enjoy <33

-

“Dude stop fucking twitching you’re scaring the hoes.”

The look of complete and utter disbelief that Peter shot his older brother would’ve been pretty damn funny if Ted wasn’t about five seconds away from actually ripping his ears clean off his face.

“First of all, there aren’t any fucking hoes here outside of you, Ted. We’re at home. Second of all, I’m not twitching, I’m fidgeting. And yes—” The kid cuts Ted a scathing look and he snaps his jaw shut with a smirk, “There’s a difference.”

Ted just shrugs and leans back into the couch, “I don’t give a shit. Twitching, fidgeting, it’s all equally a pain in the ass. Can’t you like sit on your hands on something?”

Click click click.

The rhythmic sound of Peter’s fingers snapping together severely undermined his,

“I don’t need to sit on my hands, asshole! I just have some nervous energy that I’m getting out. There’s nothing to fucking do in your shithole apartment.”

He then very pointedly Ted’s patented Are you fucking kidding me look, one that’s been passed down through generations of Spankoffski’s and perfected after years of practice.

Oh, he is not going to let that one stand.

“Don’t forget that this is our shithole apartment now! I didn’t hear you complaining about it when you showed up in the pouring fucking rain asking to move in.”

“So what? You gonna kick me out?”

“And what? Send you back to our bigoted-ass parents and your frilly fucking princess room? Fuck no. You’re stuck with me and this shithole apartment, the least you could do is show it some respect.”

Ted reaches for the remote and turns up the volume on whatever brain cell-killing show they’ve had playing in the background for the past however long. It’s his turn to ignore the look his brother gives him, although this one is more vaguely confused than outright menacing.

The silence drags out a little longer, and Ted almost jolts when Peter speaks up,

“Thank you apartment for not having a speck of pink on your walls and smelling perpetually like rotten food. I appreciate you.”

Oh, that fucking dweeb.

Apparently, Peter’s not done, “Thank you for your thermostat that only works half the time and for the fact that the only annoying voice I hear is my brother’s, which mostly doesn’t make me want to throw myself out the nearest window like my parents did.”

Ted has developed a keen sense of when serious emotions might be coming into play. Mostly it’s so he can get the fuck out of dodge, fast.

This is straying a little too close to that.

“Alright alright. You can shut the fuck up now, Petey. I get it!”

“Petey?”

Oh goddammit.

He’s about to take it back, throw out some half-hearted insult that will distract both of them for long enough that Ted can make his escape.

But then, he glances over at his little brother who almost looks like he has stars in his eyes he’s so fucking happy. Ted’s not sure he remembers the last time he really smiled like that, and like hell he was going to do anything to fuck it up.

“It’s your name, isn’t it? And what part of shut the fuck up didn’t register in your little genius brain, huh?”

There, that’s a good balance of minimally heartfelt and asshole older brother.

Click click click.

“Oh, come on!” Ted throws his head back as Peter tucks his hands sheepishly under his legs, “Again with the snapping?”

“I can’t help it!” Peter snaps back defensively, “I have—”

“Nervous energy. Yeah. I know.”

And then it was like a lightbulb flickered on above Ted’s head.

“You know. I can be pretty good at getting rid of nervous energy.”

He tries to tone down the grin that’s creeping across his face. Ted knows it’s there, not because he’s consciously smiling, but because Peter is growing more concerned by the second and he doesn’t want to scare the kid off just yet.

“Ted, I swear to fucking God if this is one of your gross sex things I will—”

“It is not a gross sex thing! Jeez kid, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Peter snorts and rolls his eyes, but settles back down which is exactly what Ted needs right now.

Neither of them says anything for a few seconds, and Ted is in the middle of wondering how high Peter’s eyebrows can rise before they start floating above his forehead when he finally caves,

“Fine! How do you get rid of nervous energy?”

He’s pretty sure that he can hear a muttered dipshit after that last bit, but he’s gonna let it slide in order to get down to business.

“I thought you’d never ask! Now, try not to scream.”

“Wha—TED! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

This fucking kid, “What did I say about not screaming? Now, hold still!”

Alright, where was that one spot again?

“TEHEHEHED! Nononono shit! Plehehehehease I cahahahan’t!”

Bingo!

“Hey, don’t get down on yourself like that!” Ted leans forward, shit-eating grin front and center on his face as he puts all of his focus into tickling all the nervous energy out of little Petey, “You totally can! Just check this out!”

And, before Peter can stop him, Ted manages to worm his hands under his arms and drill into the sensitive muscle there.

“You motherfuhuhuhuhuhuhucker! Get out of thehehehehere please!”

Looking down, Peter’s face is growing redder by the moment, and is sporting a grin that puts the damn sun to shame. Ted’s enough of a man to admit that the sight of his brother looking so happy melts his heart just a little bit.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna be a dick about it.

“Oh, what? Here? Get out of right here?” Ted does lighten his touch a bit when he sees a few tears leak out. He’s not a complete monster!

The panicked giggles that are now leaking out are almost adorable.

So is the begging.

“Yes! Plehehehease Ted! Come ohohohohon!”

“Do you have any more nervous energy?”

“Nohohoho!”

“Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind helping you out. Get you less fidgety and all that.”

“I’m sure! I’m suhuhuhure! Teddy please!”

And, well, how can he say no to that?

Ted leverages himself off of Peter, dragging the kid up with him so they’re leaning against each other as they settle back into relatively seated positions.

They don’t say anything, just watch the show that keeps droning on, but eventually, Ted feels Peter’s head drop onto his shoulder. He shifts a bit to make sure they’re both comfortable before wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

Just as he thinks Peter’s fallen asleep, he hears a whispered, “Love you, Teddy.”

Fuck. He really would do anything for this kid.

“Love you too, Petey.” Ted rests his cheek atop Peter’s head.

“Even if you do kind of need a shower.”

[a-little-unsteddie]

abstract

ok we all listened to Hozier’s new album, right? so we all know what comes next.

tw: hurt/no comfort, post-break up

wc: 1.1k || AO3 Link

Eddie groaned as he rolled over to check his phone, unsure who would be messaging him so early in the morning. Chrissy. Of course. He smiled vacantly, and then immediately frowned when the phone unlocked and revealed the message.

Eddie!! Watch this right now!!

Eddie clicked the link that was attached to the message and flinched reflexively when he saw the title of the video.

Exclusive!: Steve Harrington Opens Up About Last Relationship!

He instantly closed out of the video before it had a chance to start playing and messaged Chrissy back furiously.

explain to me why i should watch an interview that steve did? what do I care if he talks about our relationship? he’s allowed to.

Eddie chewed on his thumb nail anxiously as he stared down at the three dots indicating that Chrissy was replying. He was glad that she was, because he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to handle it if she didn’t. He thought it was fair of him to not want to watch an interview of Steve talking shit about him and their relationship, because there was no doubt in his mind that the interview could be anything but that. The relationship hadn’t ended particularly well, and Eddie knew that he was partially at fault for it. They both had their own problems, which eventually culminated in a massive fight that they couldn’t get past. The only thing that Eddie could really remember from the fight was Steve leaving at the end and immediately regretting letting him leave. He couldn’t even remember the reason of their fight — not that they really needed a reason to argue, near the end.

Eddie often replayed the memory of the slamming door and the following weeks spent isolating himself from everyone, eventually Chrissy had come barging in to drag him out of bed and into the shower and forcing him to be a functional member of society. Which, to be fair, was quite important given the fact that Eddie had a band to write for. Chrissy was the only reason he was functioning now, even. She was his rock through the aftermath of Steve Harrington.

Eddie was startled out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing in his hand, and focused on it to read the message.

I love you so much, and you *need* to watch that interview. Trust me.

Eddie swallowed thickly and tapped the link again. Steve looked amazing, because of course he did, his hair perfectly styled, wearing a yellow sweater that Eddie remembered being one of his favorites to wear. Eddie almost backed out of the video again, but it began playing at the timestamp that Chrissy had linked him to.

“So,” the interviewer began, a curious look on her face, “any new relationships?”

Steve let out a huff that could have been considered a laugh to anyone who didn’t know him like Eddie did, and he watched with a heavy heart as he answered with a gentle shake of his head.

“No, and I’m not looking for a new relationship.” Steve smiled crookedly at the interviewer, and Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest as he turned up the volume on his phone, desperate to hear more of Steve’s voice. “Still recovering from the last one,” he said, as if it were a joke, but Eddie was surprised to hear how genuine it sounded.

The interviewer leaned forward, “Oh? Eddie Munson, right?”

Steve nodded, fidgeting with his sleeves. “Yeah.”

“What can you tell us about that?” The interviewer asked, and Eddie held his breath as he awaited Steve’s response.

Steve shifted in his spot, and despite how uncomfortable Eddie knew he must be, he looked completely at ease with the interviewer. He looked contemplative as he seemed to mull over his next words.

“I think we were just…both in a really rough point in our lives. You’ve heard that saying, ‘right person, wrong time’?” At the interviewers nod, Steve continued, “Like that.”

“Did you love him?” The interviewer asked, quiet and open to the answer. Eddie blinked rapidly, knuckles almost white from how tightly he was gripping his phone. Steve looked sad, staring down at his hands for a moment before he appeared to gather himself and return his attention to the interviewer.

“Yes.” Steve paused, smiling sadly, “Still do.” Eddie paused the video to take a deep, shaky breath. He sniffled, and only then did he realize that he had started crying. It felt as though his chest was on fire. He took another deep breath and forced himself to press play.

“Can you remember when you first realized you loved him?” The interviewer asked as a follow up, which Eddie thought was a touch insensitive, but nontheless thankful that the interviewer was pushing forward, for no reason other than he wanted to know. Before today, he may have thought Steve would have scoffed and said no, but now he wasn’t sure.

“It wasn’t really.. one specific moment,” Steve started, “but the moment that I realized I wasn’t going to be able to do anything except love him was a rainy day. We were walking through the city, and we heard tires squealing and then Eddie was off,” Eddie was surprised to find he couldn’t remember the day that Steve was talking about. He sniffled and tried to focus on what Steve was saying. “Someone had hit an opossum,” Steve laughed, eyes shining with unshed tears but they didn’t fall, “and Eddie was devastated, and held it so gently. I just remember thinking I had no choice but to love him. He almost caused another car accident, but luckily the person driving saw Eddie dash into the road and stopped…Eddie held the opossum until it died in his arms.”

And Eddie knew with sudden clarity exactly what day Steve was talking about now, because Steve had been so scared that he could have gotten hurt, but all Eddie had been concerned about was the creature he had been holding, because he couldn’t let it die alone and scared. Eddie hadn’t realized that there was another car coming and was lucky that it had stopped in time. He remembered Steve berating him until Eddie looked up at him, tears in his eyes. ‘I can’t let him die alone,’ he had said. Steve had sighed, but smiled as he sat down to join him until the opossum died.

“Do you regret it?” The interviewer asked, “Loving him, I mean.” Eddie waited with baited breath for Steve’s answer.

“I am still glad to have been able to love him. The memory hurts, but does me no harm.”

[snakxreader]

I know this is like SUPER gay of me but could you pretty please give us (and me) some floofty worked too hard and reader/buddy had to convince them to REST FOR ONCE

Please and thank you

A/N: HI HELLO! ITS THE BITCH WHO NEEDS A BETTER UPLOAD SCHEDULE. Thankfully, tomorrow is the last exam before break!!! And I’m gonna be on vacay the whole time so!! Lots of writing to be done! This blog is not dying anytime soon I swear on my heart.

Enough rambling. I really did enjoy writing this fanfic! I haven’t done a Floofty x Reader before, but I like to think while they’ve still got a few walls and that stubbornness…they can be open and emotional vulnerable around their parent. With that said, I hope they’ve been done justice!!

Floofty x Reader (Rest Up)

“It is 3 AM, why won’t you just go to bed?”

You watch Floofty’s tired, groggily body turn to face you, squinting like a hairless cat that had been out in the sun too long.

“I am,” they state, eyebags growing eyebags under their eyes,”Perfeeeeectly fine.”

“You’re slurring your words.”

“Irrelevant.” Floofty dimissies, waving you off. They turn back around, carefully typing while looking at the notes they took during their experiments.

You click your teeth. You loved Floofty, you really did. But you always had to be a bit concerned when they did things like this, burying themselves in their work and ignoring their mental and physical health.

“Floofty, when was the last time you even ate? Slept??” You questioned, almost like a demand.

That second of hesitation speaks volumes. “Everything,” Floofty finally answers, “-is fine.”

“Floofty.”

They avoid your eyes. “I just…I just need to finish these notes.”

“Floofty.”

“Just….” They yawned. They sighed, pushing their goggles up on their face. “…I have to do this.”

You don’t respond for a bi, letting the silence echo for a moment before sighing. You walk towards your partner and hold their paw up, gently holding it alongside your own. Floofty sighs, exhaustion in their town.

“…I just…it doesn’t feel like I’ve gotten anywjeee as of late.” They mumble. “My research is hitting a dead end, either due to my own inability to catch Bugsnax or lack of volunteers beside myself.”

“You’d know I’d help you in a heartbeat, right?”

Floofty huffs. “I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

“So you rather hurt yourself?”

They fall very quiet after that one. You nuzzle into their neck, feeling them purr softly.

“I promise to help you in someway.” You state. “But it’s late, love. Let’s go to bed.” You take a bit of pride in the bristle of their fur at the mention of the l-bomb.

“Y-you know I could care less for petnames…” They respone, a faint stutter in their voice. There’s no malice either. You’re finally able to pull the purple grumpus from their seat, taking off their bow tie and goggles.

“Was that so hard?” You ask teasingly.

“Shush.” They grumble, cozying up to you in the bed.

You giggle slightly, brushing their locs back just to kiss their forehead. “Love you, Floofty. Sleep well, ok?”

“Hmm…..Love you too.” It’s quiet, but that’s ok. Because it’s for your ears only. And so is the sound of their soft snores that drift you off to sleep right with them.

[good-beanswrites]

Fuuta x Kotoko?

Waah I hope the fact that this ran a little long makes up for the lateness -- I really love the idea and was so excited to get the request!! They'd be so interesting and affect each other so much...... it makes me crazy...... It becomes canon divergent at the end because I genuinely think being in each others' company more would influence them both

Kotoko was nothing if not observant. Over the years, she’d found herself in – and gotten herself out of – enough situations to get a good read on the people she interacted with. No matter what this world threw her way, she could always rely on those abilities. And from the moment she met Milgram’s third prisoner, those abilities told her he was nothing but trouble. 

“Oi,” he’d called across the dining table during the first meal they all had shared. “What did you do to get here?”

From the moment she woke up in this strange place, Kotoko had kept to herself. It’s dangerous to charge forward and introduce oneself to a group of mysterious murderers when there are no locks on the doors. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, the others smart enough to heed her intense look and stay away. 

Fuuta, on the other hand, was the first to speak directly to her. He stared impatiently.

“Well?”

She noted his directness. His volume. The brashness and vulgarity she’d heard earlier in the day. His motivations and values he’d let slip in his early defenses. His anger and his fear. The suspicion in his gaze, as well as the need for reassurance in his voice. In that moment, the information clicked together in her mind, and Kotoko realized two things:

Kajiyama Fuuta was a lot like her, in the obvious ways.

Kajiyama Fuuta was nothing like her, in the ways that really mattered.

“The same reason as everyone else, I suppose,” she said carefully. He may have revealed his whole hand, but from experience she knew better than to do the same.

A lot of her experiences returned to her as the trial went on. She went through the motions of coaxing secrets out of quiet men, or playing along with cheery girls’ games to uncover what she was looking for. She remembered how it felt on stakeouts as she kept her eye on the warden’s door, and recalled the thrill of negotiation when she had a moment alone with them. And unfortunately, she recognized the immediate sensation of being tailed. She was used to shaking an unwanted follower out on the streets, but it was difficult to do the same when the only places to go consisted of three rooms and a corridor. 

No matter how inconspicuous Fuuta thought he was being, Kotoko got a glimpse of that bright hair retreating around corners just behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, always conveniently whipping away by the time she turned to look. The only thing that seemed to affect his permanently blaring volume was when she was speaking nearby – unlike a real stalker who would tactfully pretend not to be listening in, Fuuta would use the opportunity to jump into all her conversations.

Kotoko was in the middle of her morning stretches when she became aware of his presence lurking around the doorway. After several weeks of the behavior, she’d had quite enough. Kotoko knew that if you can’t shake a tail, there’s only one other option. 

She stepped out of her cell, swiftly reaching for Fuuta’s collar. With a handful of his uniform, she shoved him back against the cell bars. For someone that had creeped on all her daily exercise routines, he seemed awfully shocked at how strong she was.

“Stop following me.” She kept her voice low and even. “I don’t know what you want from me, nor do I care. I will –”

“I don’t want anything from you!” 

He raised his voice in an attempt to sound tough, but only succeeded in coming off desperate. He tried to weasel out of her grasp to no avail. She’d had practice intimidating guys three times her height – it was almost too easy now that she had an inch or so on Fuuta. 

“Don’t give me that oblivious crap. Every day. Every single day, you –”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re the one who acting fucking crazy!”

Even after knowing it was in vain, he kept squirming under her harsh look. His eyes flicked frantically around the room, only able to take in her stone cold expression for a brief moment at a time. He kept shouting his own defenses, his cheeks growing more red by the second.

This time, the information gathered took a bit longer to fall into place. One of her conclusions was something Kotoko was very used to. The other was something she’d never quite experienced before. For the first time in long career of poker faces, she visibly started upon realizing two things:

Kajiyama Fuuta was downright terrified of her.

Kajiyama Fuuta was hopelessly attracted to her.

She hurriedly released him, jerking herself away. “Just… stay out of my way.”  

“I was never in your way!” He shouted after her, his voice still shaking.

She should have stuck to her own demand and kept her distance; she was already aware of how much trouble this prisoner was capable of. But she took pride in her abilities to gather information of interest. And god, was Fuuta interesting. 

Between his constantly running mouth and his never running filter, he was always keeping her on her toes. She’d never met anyone who pressed her for answers like that – Fuuta was never satisfied with the explanations that could placate everyone else. He was always questioning, always pushing back. Though his talk could be as shallow as the older prisoners' melancholy musings, or the children’s gossipy chatter, it was different when he and Kotoko really went at it in a debate.

Fuuta talked shamelessly about society, about the other prisoners, and about her. The others kept their distance from someone as quietly calculating as her, but Fuuta would pour out his thoughts right to her face. He had her back when she was trying to prove a point to the others, but was too stubborn to compromise on any of own opinions when they conflicted. It was refreshing. 

And that was all it was, she would remind herself. The man would be insufferable if he was ever under the impression that she so much as tolerated his company. For everyone’s sake, he should remain completely unaware.

Awareness, however, was the very thing Kotoko prided herself in. She picked up on exactly what the warden was trying to communicate by granting her innocence. She was aware of the opportunities that arose with their disappearance. She noted the best time to fulfill her duties to them. She knew the optimal order to attack each prisoner in, to guarantee success.

It was due to her beloved observation skills that she found herself in cell 003 in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter how many training sessions Fuuta had spectated, or how many she’d invited him to join – he wasn’t as perceptive as she. He couldn’t predict or counter a single one of her movements. It only took a few moments for her to have him pinned on the ground.

“Y-you were serious?” Fuuta managed, even as her weight made it difficult for him to breathe. 

She’d confided in him about her deal with the warden, one late night long before verdicts were announced. She didn’t know what had driven her to do it. It had been a rare lapse in her judgment. The current situation only confirmed why she should never reveal more information than necessary. Why she should get closer to someone than necessary. 

“I am always serious.”

“Kotoko…”

She knew all of Fuuta’s typical arguments and excuses, and she had a rebuttal for each. She wound her arm back, her brass knuckles reflecting in the dim panopticon light. 

“...J-just… do it fast.”

Kotoko’s arm wavered. 

“What?”

“I’m not a fucking idiot. Even before that brat called you innocent, I knew that y-you were the one in the right. I used to think that you and I were the same, but I know that was all a lie. You were always the real hero. M-more than anyone else in this shithole. So…” Fuuta closed his eyes, squeezing tears from them. “Make it quicker than you did for that asshole, will ya?” 

Kotoko gripped her fight tighter. It was trembling. 

Fuuta’s eyes remained shut in fear. In trust. His breathing was erratic as he pretended not to be crying or struggling from the pressure on his lungs. He grit his teeth, preparing himself for what was to come. Kotoko prepared herself as well. 

Releasing a cry, she swung forward. The moment before her brass knuckles clashed with the floor, just to the left of Fuuta’s face, Kotoko realized one thing:

Kajiyama Fuuta was indeed nothing but trouble.

[harry-on-broadway]

The Last Line: Part Four

Part Four 

Word Count: 8.7K || Series Masterlist || Rating : M

***

“Austria? You want me to go to Austria?” Penny stared at her editors from across the table.

“Only if you want to,” Skylar said gently. “When Jenny reached out to me and said they were looking to promote this new group, you were the first person I thought of. I think your editorial voice would be the perfect match for a young, female-fronted band. But please don’t feel pressured. I know it’s a lot to ask. We can always have Chris–”

“No, I’ll take it!” Penny shouted. “I mean, I’d love to work on this piece. It’s a great opportunity,” she added at a softer volume. She stole a glance at Darren, who sat silent next to Skylar looking only slightly put out.

“Wonderful.” Skylar clapped her hands together. “I’ll connect you with Brett via email this afternoon so that he can fill you in on the schedule and Kelsey will help you with travel arrangements and expenses.” She smiled brightly and her hand over Penny’s. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“I’ll try to make you proud,” Penny said, trying to hold back the emotions that were swirling around her. She was finally getting a chance, an opportunity to show everyone that she belonged here. “Thank you so much.”

Skylar chuckled. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Penny. Just let me know if you have any questions or need help with anything.”

Penny nodded and grabbed her laptop and phone from the table in front of her. She couldn’t wait to tell Chloe about this. She caught her best friend’s eye as she exited the conference room and mouthed “big news.” Without prompting, Chloe grabbed their wallets and headed for the door.

Once the iced coffees had been secured, Penny filled Chloe in on everything that had happened behind the doors of the conference room, including her newly scheduled trip.

“You’re going to Austria for a cover story!” Chloe cheered.

“It’s not going to be the cover but it’s one step closer,” Penny said, swirling the liquid in the plastic cup. “I have no idea how it happened.”

“Well, you’ve been paying your dues long enough. It’s about damn time,” Chloe said, chewing on her straw.

“It had to be Skylar’s doing though. Darren looked pissed sitting in there.”

“And that’s different from how he usually looks?” Chloe asked, arching her brow.

“Point taken.” Penny’s phone vibrated next to her. She looked down at the text and clicked her phone off when she saw Harry’s name on the notification.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” Penny said with a sigh.

“That didn’t sound super convincing. Just be honest with me. Do I need to kick his ass? Yes or no?”

“No, no ass-kicking is needed. It’s just been a little complicated lately.”

In all honesty, Penny hadn’t really spoken to Harry since she’d left his house that day almost two weeks ago. The next morning he’d sent her a text thanking her for the company and letting her know he’d be in New York City for work for a couple of weeks. She hadn’t responded, trying to purge all thoughts of him from her brain. She’d been fairly successful but his new message had broken that peaceful bubble.

“Complicated how, Penny?”

“Just like I think I like him. Like more than a friend. And it’s confusing because I was contemplating how to kill him and leave no trace a couple of months ago.”

“No, really, you like Harry,” Chloe deadpanned. “Shut up.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the support.”

“I’m just kidding,” Chloe said, gently rubbing Penny’s back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” Penny stared off into the distance. “I’m just confused. It feels so sudden. Like it came out of nowhere and just hit me. But on the other hand it feels like I’ve been waiting so long to meet someone like him. I just want it to make sense.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Hell no. Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I think there’s a good chance he feels the same way.”

Penny shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I know we’re friendly but I get the sense that he’s not interested in anything more than going to shows or grabbing a drink. He’s never tried to make the move.”

“The move?”

“You know, like subtly looking at my lips or finding reasons to touch me.”

“OK, well you’ll never know until you ask, CosmoGirl.” Chloe looked over at Penny, waiting for her to take the bait and snap back. “Oh Pen. You really do like him, don’t you?” Penny nodded slowly. “Is the article…?”

“No,” Penny said emphatically. “I gave that up. It just felt wrong.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d rather deal with the wrath of Darren than lose Harry.”

“You still need to talk to him, Pen. Ignoring him is just as sure a way to lose him as betraying his trust.”

Penny unlocked her phone and read Harry’s message aloud. “‘Heading back to LA in a couple of days. Free for dinner?’”

“You are most definitely free,” Chloe prodded. “Go out with him, suss out the situation a little more, you’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

“If I say anything about how I feel he’ll probably just think I’m crazy. Especially after the way I treated him.”

“Or, he’ll say he feels the same way. I think the problem early on was that you all are too much alike. You’re passionate, opinionated people who don’t know how to be casual about anything. Once you learned to live in equilibrium with each other, the sparks were able to fly.” Penny was silent. “Go to dinner with him when he’s back. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They finished their coffees in silence and stayed on the wall until Chloe had to leave to take a call. Penny sat there, swinging her legs, feeling her heels bounce off the concrete until a voice interrupted her daydreaming.

“Hey, Penny. Long time no see.” Tom had just exited the coffee shop, his own iced drink in hand. He tore open the straw wrapper and poked it through the plastic opening. “Can I join?”

“For sure.” Penny scooted her bag over, making room for Tom to sit beside her. “How’ve you been?” she asked.

“Staying busy chasing everyone all over the place. Got back from NYC last night. Was there with H for a few days.”

“Oh, he just mentioned that he’s coming back soon.”

“Yeah, he had to stay a couple of days after the Gala to take some meetings.” He looked at her curiously. “How’d you know when he was coming in?”

“He, uh, texted me earlier.”

“He said he hadn’t heard from you in a while. He was concerned and I told him not to worry, that you were just probably busy with work. That’s what’s going on, right?”

“Yeah, I’m actually headed to Austria in a few weeks.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “We’ll circle back to that in a minute, but Penny, just be careful with him.”

Penny wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“H mentioned some stuff while we were out there and I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on but…treat him gently. He doesn’t open up to just anyone. I don’t want him to get hurt. And I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

What the hell had happened during this trip to New York? What had Harry told his friends? And how did everyone seem to know her feelings about Harry? Was she really that transparent?

“Yeah, we’re not running with scissors here,” she said with a tight laugh. “No risk of anyone getting hurt.”

Tom studied her carefully for a moment before changing the subject to safer territory. “So…Austria?”

“Yeah, it was a complete shock. Our editor-in-chief gave me the assignment this morning.”

“Well, have fun, stay safe, and don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try.”

“You know I’m having a cookout next week. The usual crew, Harry, everyone will be there if you want to put in an appearance. If you have time before your trip, that is.”

“I should be free. Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Tom shook his head and grinned. “Austria. Everyone in the neighborhood is going to be so proud of you.”

Penny looked down at the ground. She wasn’t sure about that.

***

Two days before she was scheduled to fly out of LAX, Penny drove over to Tom’s house for the cookout she really didn’t want to attend. As she pulled onto his street she was pleasantly surprised to find that there fewer cars than she expected. Harry’s distinctive convertible was also noticeably absent. Letting out a sigh of relief, she looked around to make sure she hadn’t blocked anyone in and locked her car, the alarm chirping twice as she walked up the path.

Tom’s social circle, and for that matter Harry’s, had grown used to her over the past few months so when she walked into the backyard she was greeted with friendly smiles and raised glasses. Tommy caught her right as she walked in and launched into a story about some sandwich he’d eaten the other day, before Tom chased him away and actually let Penny walk through the gate.

Jeff, and presumably his girlfriend, were holding court with several people she recognized from Sony and Penny fell into easy conversation with them, listening to them exchange company gossip. When she’d finished her story, the woman on Penny’s left, Angela something, turned to Penny.

“Tom mentioned you’re off to Austria soon. To meet with My Ugly Clementine?” Penny nodded, truly shocked that someone had heard of them. “One of my sorority sisters has been working with the group and she’s been dropping hints that they have something special in the pipeline. I’m excited to learn more about them.”

“Honestly, me too,” Penny said. “I’ve heard their name recently but don’t really know any of their songs, so I’m also looking forward to getting to know them better. I was actually listening to one of their singles on the way over here.”

“Never Be Yours?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

The conversation petered out and Penny found herself searching for a drink, only to be interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was face to face with a sheepish looking Harry.

“Hey stranger. Can I get you a drink?”

“I was actually just headed that way,” Penny said.

“How have you been?” Harry asked as they ambled towards the rickety patio table that was serving as a bar that evening.

“You know, staying busy.”

“I figured that much, seeing as you haven’t found the time to respond to any of my witty inquiries.” He laughed, but it felt forced, and the lightness of his voice did a poor job of disguising his deeper feelings.

“Yeah….” Penny exhaled slowly. She should have prepared for this. Of course, Harry would be at Tom’s party. “Lots is happening. But I could say the same thing for you Mr. Met Ball. Or is it the Met Gala?”

“It’s the Gala, and yeah, it was hectic for a while. Fun, but not the way I’d necessarily want to spend my time. You’re all good, though? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

Penny felt an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach. She wasn’t ready to share with anyone – let alone Harry – everything that had been running through her head over the past few months, but hearing the concern in his voice had her reconsidering. “I’m fine, Harry,” she said as convincingly as she could. “When I get busy with work, I’m really bad about staying in touch with family and friends. Just ask my mom. Chloe’s really the only one who’s exempt since she sees me at work.”

Harry held her gaze for a moment. He nodded. “If that’s all it is…”

“Do you need a refill?” Penny asked, gesturing to the table of liquor in front of them. Harry held out his cup for her to top him off, before Penny poured a drink of her own.

“H! Penny!” Tommy called out, walking over to them. “How’s it going? I hear you’re headed out of the country soon? Switzerland?”

“Austria,” Penny corrected.

Harry whipped around to stare at her. “You’re going to Austria? When?”

“In a couple of days,” Penny said, not meeting his eyes.

“When you’re there you need to try an apfelstrudel,” Tommy said, before listing off a list of tourist attractions she needed to see.

She only halfway listened, daring to take a peek at Harry after a few moments. He wore a questioning look on his face as he sipped his drink. He finally spoke again after Tommy had bounded off in search of snacks. “When were you going to tell me you were leaving the country?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed to keep you updated on my whereabouts.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I thought we were past this. I don’t care where you go or what you do. I’m just curious as to why you didn’t think of telling me. I thought we were friends and taking a big trip like that seems like something you’d tell a friend.” Penny kept silent, unable to think of a witty retort. Harry sighed. “Whatever, I’ll see you when you get back. If you even bother to let me know.” He turned his back to her.

“Harry, wait!” He stopped. “I didn’t mean to not tell you,” Penny said. “It’s just we hadn’t been in touch and I assumed you didn’t care or want to know.” It was mostly the truth.

“Well that was your first mistake,” he said. “I’ll always want to know. I’m your…friend.” He stumbled on the last word.

Penny ignored the butterflies in her stomach and the voice in her head that was screaming at her that this was a bad idea. “Meet me at the airport?” she asked. “When I’m back? I’ll treat you to an apology dinner. Since friends don’t ghost friends.”

“Deal.”

“OK then.”

They stared at each other, neither daring to make the first move. The standoff was only broken as someone walked over to pull Harry into another conversation.

“Are you two all caught up?” Penny jumped at the sound of Tom’s voice.

“Something like that,” she murmured.

***

“The hardest part of this whole thing is that the person who inspired all of this isn’t here to see it. I know he’s just a phone call away but it’s hard to be apart from him. That’s the only thing I’d change about this life…that the thing I love most keeps me away from the person I love the most.”

Penny slammed the space bar on her laptop, pausing the audio recording she’d been listening to. According to the digital map on the seat in front of her, she was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean and had at least seven more hours on the plane in front of her. She’d fallen asleep earlier than she had planned and was now faced with more waking hours than she’d like.

In an attempt to be productive, she’d decided to continue working on her article so it would be ready to file later that week, but a quote she’d gotten from the band’s lead singer and primary songwriter was still haunting her. “The thing I love most keeps me away from the person I love the most.” Wasn’t that her exact dilemma?

Frustrated, she closed her laptop and turned to her phone, waiting for it to connect to the in-flight wifi. When it had connection, she watched her notifications roll in. Work emails, instagram messages, a message from her doctor reminding her she was due for her annual exam, and a text from Harry.

I’ll see you in a few hours, he’d written alongside a gif of an excited puppy jumping in circles. He’d been texting her regularly since their awkward encounter at Tom’s, and despite the significant time difference, she’d done her best to keep up her end of the conversation. She’d expected things to still feel strained, but had been pleasantly surprised to realize that chatting with Harry was once again the highlight of her day.

One night, late in her hotel after a couple of overpriced cocktails, she typed out a message to him. So I know I’ve given off the vibe that I hate you since the day we met but it turns out I might actually love you and feel like you’re the thing that’s been missing from my life all along.  She’d conveniently left out the part about attempting to use him. Thankfully, she’d fallen asleep before she sent the message, and when she woke the next morning, she deleted all traces of her confession before it accidentally wound up in Harry’s hands.

Soon. She’d tell him soon. She couldn’t keep living like this. Suppressing her feelings was giving her serious anxiety, as was Darren breathing down her neck finding all sorts of ways to bring up Harry in pitches, tempting her to play her hand in front of the rest of the editorial staff. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

When she opened them, a flight attendant was standing next to her, gently reminding her to put up her tray table and stow her electronics as they prepared to land at LAX. After clearing customs and collecting her checked luggage, she made her way to the parking lot where Harry had said he was parked in in the lot by Terminal 3. She scanned the lot for his car and launched into an awkward walk-jog when she saw it.

Harry was in the driver’s seat, head bent over his phone, thumb scrolling up and down the screen. “Hey!” She rapped her knuckles on the window and she could see Harry jump, turning towards the noise, a smile spreading over his face when he saw her. He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car.

“Trying to scare me?” he asked.

“Did it work?”

“Come here.” Harry pulled her into a hug, leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Eh.” Harry pulled back and looked down at her, worried. “Nothing like that,” Penny quickly corrected. “I fell asleep too soon and now my clock is even more messed up. I’m going to need to kill time so I don’t fall asleep again and screw it up even more.”

“Want to get some food? We can probably get a table at that diner I mentioned.”

“That would be great.” Harry picked up her suitcase and put it in the back of the trunk before opening the passenger door for Penny. As she sank into the plushy seat, she felt exhaustion overtake her, only realizing in that moment just how much the past couple of weeks had worn on her.

“Maybe we should skip the meal?” Harry asked, eyeing Penny’s slumped figure.

Penny shook her head. “No, I’m good to power through. I need to get back on some sort of schedule before I head back to the office tomorrow.”

“Not even a day to recover?” Harry asked, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.

“Nope. There’s too much to do. I need to finish my first draft of this profile and it’s better to talk things through in the office instead of over Slack or email if people have questions. And then I got assigned a couple of other pieces that I need to start prepping on.”

“They don’t let you breathe, do they?”

“No, but it’s OK. I mostly like it.” She suppressed another yawn and turned to look at Harry. “Thanks again for picking me up. I didn’t actually intend for you to provide curbside service at the airport.”

“I’m happy to help,” Harry said, smoothly switching lanes. “It’s good to see you again and I feel like we have so much to catch up on. Or at least I feel like I have a lot to tell you and you probably have stories too. From like your trip in stuff.” His speech was quick and rushed, far from the usual slow and precise pace he spoke at. “I’ve missed you so much.” He tensed. “I mean I missed so much of what’s been happening with you.”

Penny tried to ignore the swooping of her stomach and the pattering of her heart. “Yeah, there’s a lot to discuss.”

When Harry had pulled into a spot in front of the restaurant, she stepped out of the car and stretched, fighting another yawn.

“You sure about this?” Harry asked. “Because I can just take you home.”

“Yes, I’m sure so stop asking. I’m hungry.”

“OK,” Harry said, raising his hands in defense. “I was just asking.”

Inside, they paused at the entrance, waiting for the host to seat them. “Table for two and make it quick,” Harry said lightly. “This one’s a little hangry,” he added in a stage whisper, jerking his thumb towards Penny.

“You are such an ass,” she hissed.

“I know, but it’s so fun to mess with you.”

When they were seated with waters in front of them, Penny skimmed the menu and determined what she would order in under a minute, possibly a record for her, and when their waiter returned, she rattled off her order – a grilled cheese with tomatoes, chips on the side – in front of an impressed Harry.

“A woman who knows what she wants,” he said with a grin. “Did they not have grilled cheese in Austria?”

“Not that I could tell. But to be fair I didn’t have a lot of time to take in the sights and sounds of the city.”

“Oh?”

“No. I was basically following the band around the entire time and when I wasn’t with them I was transcribing interviews and trying to write. I want to go back though. Actually see things.”

“That is the hard part of this,” Harry said. “You get to live out your wildest dreams and travel the world, but half the time you can’t spend time soaking it in.”

“Speaking from experience.”

Harry nodded. “It was worse when I was with the band. I try to be better about that now.”

“That sucks. It’s hard to complain in a situation like that but…”

“Yeah…”

Their waiter deposited their food in front of them and as Penny started to devour her sandwich, Harry filled her in on everything she’d missed. What he’d been up to, how his time in the studio had been going, and what he was planning to do in the coming week.

Penny tried to pay attention as she listened to Harry talk, but the combination of exhaustion, jet lag, Harry’s voice, and being somewhere that felt kind of like home for the first time in weeks, was lulling her to sleep. She felt her eyes grow heavy and fought with all of her might to focus on Harry and nod along with what he was saying.

“Penny?”

“Yes?” Her eyes flew open and she blinked against the bright light. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Am I boring you?”

“No, I swear. I’m just a little more worn out than I thought. Did you ask me something?”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it once you’ve settled back in. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Harry led her towards the exit, bypassing the cashier and Penny made a mental note to pay him back for the meal later. She nodded off in Harry’s car again and when she opened her eyes, he was parked outside of her apartment building. He escorted her into her apartment and placed her bags on the hall floor. He stood there sheepishly, hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Get comfy and get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Harry. For everything. And I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” Penny said. “We can do drinks or something later this week?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, just text me. I’ll be around.” He stepped out of Penny’s apartment and into the hallway, walking backwards as he waved to her, only stopping when she closed the door.

He punched the button for the lobby and pulled his phone from his pocket. A new text from Jeff sat in the center of his home screen.

Did you ask her?

Harry unlocked his phone and tapped out a reply. Not yet. It wasn’t the right moment.

The elevator dinged and with one final look at Penny’s door, he stepped inside.

***

Penny hadn’t been back in the office for more than a few days but she was already dreaming of when she could escape next.

Darren had only grown more difficult during her time away, assigning her more stories than she’d ever had on her plate before and taking issue with every word in the stories she filed. Skylar, who could usually be counted on to intervene when things got tense between editors and reporters, was mysteriously absent, leaving for long lunches with her superiors.

“That’s never a good sign,” Sam, one of the newsroom veterans said under his breath as Skylar waved goodbye to her assistant before catching up with the CSO in the lobby. “Editors talking to upper management usually means major cuts are coming.”

And to make matters worse, Chloe, Penny’s one piece of salvation in the office, had all but disappeared, flitting off to premieres and interviews.

Sitting at her desk, she checked the time on her phone. Just three hours left until she could stop working at the office and work from the comfort of her own home instead. She rested her head in her hands, taking a moment to reset before diving into her next task.

“Penny. Have a minute to chat?” Darren poked his head out from his office and gestured for her to follow him.

“Fuck,” Penny muttered under her breath, grabbing her laptop.

Darren closed the door and sat down across from Penny. “Now that you’re back I thought you could give me a little update on what you’re working on and where we stand on some outstanding items.”

“Sure.” Penny cleared her throat. “I’m wrapping up my first draft of the Clementine profile and should have that to you by the end of the day. After that, I was planning to tackle your edits on the ‘What’s Ahead’ piece and then start on the other items you assigned me...” She trailed off as she looked at her notes. “A piece on podcast ads and another on music video directors. I also have to do some prep for some media hits I have next week with Track After Track and Hitmakers.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were booked for those.” He sounded irritated. “Whose decision was that?”

“Uh…” Penny tried to think of who emailed her with the meeting invite. “I think someone in comms set it up with Skylar.”

Darren pursed his lips, giving her an indiscernible look. “Just keep me in the loop next time.”

Penny bit back the urge to say that he had been included on the email, something he would know if he took the time to read, and instead gave him a terse “Sure.”

“That all sounds good,” Darren said, shuffling papers on his desk. “But I think you’re forgetting something.” Penny looked at him trying to think of what she had missed. “The piece you were working on about Harry Styles?”

“Right…” Ever since he’d seen them at the coffee shop, Darren had been relentless, like a dog with a bone, continually pressuring her for updates and samples of what she had written. She’d managed to fend him off so far but was running out of options. “Um, yeah that kind of fizzled. You know how some stories just don’t pan out.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I was expecting something after you said you were working on that. And it’s difficult to see you not meeting expectations with performance reviews coming up.”

“I’m sorry? In what ways am I not meeting expectations?” Penny tried to keep her tone even, but Darren’s words hit her where it hurt. She prided herself on her work ethic and attention to detail. She was a great writer and a supportive co-worker. Fuck Darren for insinuating anything less simply because he wasn’t getting his way.  

Darren didn’t even pretend to have heard her question. “I’d like to see some notes early next week. Feel free to send Chris in on your way out.”

***

Penny drove home in silence. She didn’t need any more noise when her thoughts were racing a mile a minute.

She’d texted Chloe and some of her other female reporter friends after she was freed from Darren’s office, asking them if they’d ever experienced an encounter like that. None of them had, and they all encouraged her to go to Skylar for help. Penny didn’t know if she wanted to do that just yet. She should be able to figure this problem out on her own.

As she shifted lanes on the freeway, her thoughts turned back to the notes doc she’d started about Harry so long ago. She hadn’t touched it in weeks, but couldn’t bring herself to delete it either. There had to be something in there she could use. Even if it was just a fluffy “What’s on Harry’s playlist?” piece. Next time she saw him, she’d ask him. He’d do her a favor like that, wouldn’t he?

When she arrived home, she threw on some sweats and heated up a frozen Trader Joe’s entree she’d found in the back of her freezer. She hadn’t been grocery shopping since she returned back to the US and she made a note to add it to her weekend to-do list. The microwave beeped and she pulled out the plastic tray, dropping it unceremoniously on the table and cracked open her laptop.

She clicked through all of her open documents until she found the one subtly labeled HARRY. She skimmed through it a couple of times, bolding and highlighting certain sections on her second pass until she came to the conclusion that there was no way for her to move forward and feel good about what she’d done. She’d just face Darren's stupid consequences and pray she still had a job at the end of it.

Ding dong. Ding dong.

The rich tones of the doorbell echoed through Penny’s apartment. She looked towards the door, puzzled at who it could be. Her friends weren’t the kind to stop by unannounced and she wasn’t expecting any deliveries. She abandoned the makeshift workstation she had set up at her kitchen table and made her way to the door, lifting up on her toes to peer out of the peephole to see Harry standing on her doormat.

What was he doing there?

“Hey,” she said slowly as she opened the door. “What’s up?”

Harry looked at her, head tilted to the side and brows furrowed in confusion. “You said to meet you here and we could ride over the bar together. Something about parking being a nightmare.”

“Fuck! That was tonight?” Penny gently banged her head against the doorframe. “I clearly forgot.”

“Clearly,” Harry said with a gentle teasing smirk.

“Come on in,” Penny said, remembering her manners. “I’ve been drowning in edits and pitches and interviews the past couple of days, everything else has fallen by the wayside.”

“I don’t want to intrude if you’re busy,” Harry said, eyeing the mess on the table. “We can reschedule to another night.”

Penny turned around. “Are you sure?” As much as she wanted to see Harry, she really could use a night to gat caught up.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re the best! Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Before I go though, I did have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” Penny said, gesturing for Harry to join her at the table.

“So, the album is coming out in December and we’re starting to think about promo and media coverage. And Rolling Stone called. They want me on the cover again.”

“What? That’s amazing!”

“I know! And the best part is, you’re going to get to write the profile.”

Penny felt hot all over. “Why am I writing it?”

“Well, they offered up some of their staff writers but said I could also bring in someone else if I wanted and I started thinking and you were the only name running through my head.” He paused, before looking at Penny straight on. “I think you’re the first person to see who I really am, and that scared me when we first met. But in a weird way that’s exactly what I need. It’s fucking terrifying to be known by someone in that way but I think you are the only person who can tell my story.”

Penny raked her hands down her face. “Wow, um I wasn’t expecting this.”

“It’s the September issue so they’d need something soon. I figured you could draw on some things we’d talked about earlier. I know you’re busy but I was also thinking we could meet up this week and do something more official if you want.”

“No.”

“Oh, well the week after might be pushing it, but I’m sure you could make that work.”

“No, I don’t want the job, Harry.”

Harry frowned, puzzled. “It’s not a handout if that’s what you’re worried about. Like I get to pick who I want and you’re the best writer. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“It’s not that, Harry.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? All you do is talk about how you need a chance to prove yourself, get your name out there and I’m giving that to you.”

“We’ll come back to how condescending and fucked up that is later, but I just can’t do this.”

“Why?” Harry pressed.

“Because I think I might love you, OK?” The words were out of Penny’s mouth before she knew what she was saying. “And if I do this, that puts me in a tough position. I doesn’t look good when the media fucks the talent. I take enough heat in the comments section already. I don’t need more. So no, I can’t do this.”

Harry’s jaw hung slack as Penny slapped her hand over her mouth, almost as if she was trying to shove the words back in. “What?” he asked. “Y-you what?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said, still shell-shocked. “It’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He looked up at her. “Can we talk about this though? Like us.” He gestured between the two of them. “Not the profile.”

How Harry couldn’t hear her heart thudding in her chest, Penny didn’t know. Her voice sounded so soft compared to the thump, thump, thump that was echoing in her ears. “Sure. I just need some water.”

Harry nodded and Penny disappeared into her small kitchen. When she was sure she was out of his sight, she gripped the kitchen counter as if she was hanging on for her life. So much was happening and it felt like her life was spinning out of her control in slow motion. But based on Harry’s reaction, it didn’t seem like he was turned off by the prospect of their relationship becoming something more. She took a couple of deep breaths as she filled a glass of water. She downed it in one gulp and then refilled it. She turned to head back to the living room, but grabbed water for Harry on second thought. She rounded the corner, glasses in hand.

She didn’t know what had happened in the few minutes she’d left Harry alone, but it was like he was a different person now. He rested his head on his hands and when he looked up at her a cold fury was written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked quietly.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want the Rolling Stone piece?” Harry asked. He wasn’t yelling, but anger radiated from every word.

“What I just said. That’s the real reason.”

Harry frowned and the crease in his forehead grew even deeper. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s this?” He gestured to Penny’s open laptop on the table next to him.

She bent down to see what he was pointing to and when she was able to read the document name it felt like the floor had dropped from under her. “Harry, I can explain.”

“I don’t think I need an explanation, Penny. It’s pretty fucking clear.” He read from the screen. “‘Harry Styles new album coming this year…what date?’” He scrolled. “‘Lots of time in studio, seems to be doubting himself. What does that mean for album? Taking risks? Experimenting with new sounds?’” He looked at her. “But that’s not the best part. ‘Heard new song. It sounds really good. Vulnerable and real, but still likely to get good radio play.’”

“At least I liked that one,” Penny said quietly, hoping a small moment of humor would diffuse the situation.

“That’s all you have to say? What the fuck Penny?” Harry ran his hands through his hair. “I trusted you,” he said, voice breaking. “I thought you were my friend. I opened up to you. I spent all that time apologizing and trying to make it up to you for being such an asshole and misjudging you but it turns out I was right all along.”

“Harry, please sit down so we can talk. Here, have some water.” She stretched out her hand to offer him one of the glasses she was holding at the same time he tried to push her hand away. They collided, the glass of water crashing to the floor. They both ignored it. “Harry, let me explain. If you let me talk, you’ll understand.”

“No, I get it. I have my own set of notes on you. ‘Hateful. Mean. A snake. Will use anyone’s name for clout. I thought I could trust you, but it turns out I was wrong.” He chewed on his lip before he spoke again. “That whole thing about you caring about me…was that all part of…whatever the hell this is?”

“No, Harry I swear.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. But how am I supposed to believe that when you’ve been using me this whole time.” He stood up from the table, sidestepping the pile of water and glass that lay between them on his way to the door. “You know what the sad thing is, Penny? I thought I could feel the same way about you. I’d been waiting weeks for some sort of sign that I wasn’t imagining things, that there was something here and then you finally gave it to me. But I guess that was too good to be true.”

He left, slamming the door behind him without another word.

Penny didn’t know what to do. Everything had blown up around her, but she wasn’t ready to sort through the debris of her life yet. She cleaned up the mess they had made, disposing of the glass and mopping up the water. When the floor was cleaned, she turned her attention to her laptop where she navigated to the home page of her Google account and pressed delete on the document Harry had opened. Emotionless, she closed the computer and laid on the sofa, closing her eyes and praying that this had all been a dream.

***

When she awoke on the couch the next morning, it was clear that her prayers hadn’t been answered. She had a headache and crick in her neck but the greatest source of pain was the burden of the knowledge that she’d not only hurt Harry, but lost him too.

Realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she climbed into the shower and got ready on auto-pilot, not even stopping for coffee on her way into the office. Miraculously, she arrived at the office on time only to find everyone heading into the central conference room.

“What’s going on?” she asked Chloe, taking a seat next to her.

“Monthly editorial meeting. It’s been on the books for weeks.” Chloe looked at her curiously and immediately could tell something was wrong. “What happened?”

But before Penny could ask, Skylar called the meeting to order. The agenda was standard – each vertical went over their editorial calendar for the month, determining when stories would run and who across the site’s various departments would be working on them. It was usually interesting, a time for everyone to come together and see what they missed when they were caught up in their own assignments, but Penny couldn’t focus.

Over the course of the meeting, each department head took their turn speaking, allowing reporters and designers to chime in as needed. When they’d finished going around, Skylar stood at the head of the table.

“It’s great to hear what everyone has been working on and I’m so excited about what the month ahead offers. I did want to discuss something new I’d like to try in the coming weeks. If it’s a success, we might be able to expand it and have some fun.” She looked around the table at everyone’s expectant faces.

“I think I speak for many of us when I say we’ve found ourselves here because of love. We love writing, creating, talking about the things we’re passionate about. I think sometimes that can get lost in our writing though. It’s important to be objective, but oftentimes we forget about the purpose and drive behind what we do. So…” She clapped her hands. “I would like to launch a new vertical, name TBD, that will focus on just that. Personal essays and intimate interviews that will give readers a chance to better connect with us and the creatives they admire, in addition to letting all of you have another opportunity to expand your brand and establish rapport with readers. There will probably be some sort of social initiative involved alongside this and if it’s popular, we’ll likely expand. I’m just excited to see what we all come up with. The thing is, we will need someone to oversee it.” She paused. “Penny, if you have the bandwidth, I’d like you to spearhead this initiative.”

Penny felt the eyes of everyone in the conference room on her. To be handpicked by Skylar to lead a new vertical was a massive win and basically guaranteed that Skylar was on your side. She opened her mouth to respond, but Darren’s loud voice beat her to it.

“I don’t think Penny should be handling anything now. She’s having enough trouble keeping up with things as it is.”

In an almost cartoonish moment, everyone's eyes turned to Darren and then back to Penny as if they were watching some sort of verbal jousting match. The silence after Darren’s accusation lasted a moment too long.

“Darren, with all due respect, fuck you,” Penny said. Gasps erupted all around her as she stood, collecting her laptop, notebook and coffee, and left the conference room. She knew she couldn’t go back to her desk – it would be more to sit there with everyone watching her through the windows. Instead, she made her way to the hiding spot she’d carved out during her first week of work. A small conference room on the third floor that she’d initially discovered when looking for a quiet place to take a call. It was now her go-to spot whenever she needed to escape the busyness of the newsroom.

She unlocked her phone, praying for a message from Harry, but found nothing other than a reminder to pick up her birth control pills from the pharmacy. She bit her lip trying not to cry. What felt like hours later (but was more like 40 minutes), there was a gentle knock at the door.

Skylar was standing there, two mugs in her hand. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” So this is how it was going to go down. Skylar firing her. At least it wasn’t in front of the whole newsroom. “I’m sorry,” Penny began. “And I won’t be mad at you. I deserve it after what I did.”

“Penny, you deserve a gold medal after that.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you understand how many times a day I want to say that to Darren.”

Penny blinked. “Seriously?”

Skylar nodded and offered Penny one of the mugs she was holding. “I brought you some tea. It always makes me feel better when I’ve had a rough morning.”

Penny gratefully accepted the cup, taking a tentative sip. It was sweet, probably something herbal. “Thank you.”

“Of course, honey. Is there something you want to talk about? It seems like things might be a little tough right now. My guess is it’s some combination of work and a man.”

“That’s scarily accurate.”

“I’ve had years of experience counseling young women like yourself in hidden conference rooms.”

Penny laughed. “It’s been a weird couple of months. It all started when I met this guy.”

“Barry Tiles?” Skylar asked, with a knowing smile.

“You heard that?”

“I hear a lot more than you all think I do.”

“Well fuck me,” Penny said with a laugh. “But yeah, I met him through a friend, we didn’t really hit it off but things have changed recently.”

“Feelings?”

“Feelings.” Penny took another sip of her drink. “And to make things worse, I had kind of been thinking about using my proximity to him to get a story. Like something big that would put me on the map. But then that just felt wrong after everything played out.” Skylar nodded knowingly but remained silent, giving Penny the space to continue. “Darren saw us getting coffee one day and then decided that essentially extorting me to write about Harry would be his latest way to torture me and then Harry found out about everything last night and was rightfully pissed and now I’ve probably lost my job so…yeah.”

“Well, I can’t speak to your situation with Harry, but in terms of your job, I can say with certainty that you’re safe here.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t make a habit of telling people to fuck off in the middle of a meeting, but what you did today was stand up for yourself. Sure, you probably could have been a bit more eloquent, but I promise you that you’ll unfortunately have many more opportunities to practice that in your life. And between you and me, I’ve had some problems with Darren and his behavior in this office for a while now. Let’s just say I’ve been having some conversations, and Darren might be looking for new opportunities soon.”

It suddenly clicked. “The lunch with the CSO…?”

Skylar nodded, lifting a finger to her lips. “You didn’t hear it from me.” She placed her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I know things feel difficult right now, but I promise they will get better for you. You’re smart. I know you’ll figure it out.” And with that, she left Penny, once again, alone with her thoughts.

When Penny had calmed down, she returned to the newsroom, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. Chloe shot her a knowing glance across their desk and Penny just nodded. She picked up her phone.

The good news…I still have a job. The bad news…I think Harry hates me. :(

Chloe pouted. That SUCKS! Do you want to talk about it?

Not right now. Still figuring out how I feel.

Well I’m here if you need me.

Penny smiled to herself, feeling a little better that she had at least two people on her side.

***

Later that night after she’d closed her laptop and curled up into bed with some sitcom on in the background, she tapped on her phone, opening Instagram for the first time that day. She clicked through some stories from her friends and some from celebrities and reposted some things on her own. While she primarily used her Twitter as a professional tool, she had a little more fun on Instagram, trying to cultivate her own personal brand as reporters were often encouraged to do. Her own carefully curated profile was a mix of concert photos, coffee shops, and whatever else she found grid-worthy.

She was about to close out the app when her thumb accidentally shifted, pulling open her own story that she’d just posted. She moved to close out the app again, but paused when she caught a glimpse of the list of accounts that had viewed her most recent post. It had been posted less than five minutes ago and someone had already watched it. Penny didn’t keep track of all of her followers and was used to random people, bots, and spam accounts showing up, but this profile picture was different. It was an artsy black and white shot, though she couldn’t exactly tell what it was supposed to be. The username made no sense either and she didn’t know why but she suspected that was because it wasn’t in English.

Intrigued, she clicked on the account in an attempt to enlarge the profile pic and learn more about this mystery viewer. The account was private, but a list of mutual followers gave her all the info she needed.

Mitch. Tom. And of course, Jeff. It was Harry. Creeping on her with some sort of finsta.

“Busted,” she said under her breath, trying not to think about him sitting in his own bed across town, watching her live her life via Instagram, keeping up with her even after their fight. Maybe he hadn’t met those awful things he’d said. Maybe they had another chance.

***

Penny slowly monitored Harry’s burner account over the next couple of weeks, paying more attention than she ever had before to her likes, views, and followers. Like clockwork, Harry would watch or like whatever she posted. It was then that she had an idea.

It was almost 2:30 and Skylar would be returning from a late lunch any minute. Penny kept her eyes on the door, craning her neck to get a glimpse whenever it opened.

“Hot date on the way?” Chloe asked, after Penny had jumped up for a fifth time.

“No,” Penny said, picking at a chip in her nail polish. “I just need to ask Skylar something.”

As if on cue, the door opened, and Skylar walked through it, carrying her leftovers and an iced tea.

“Skylar!” Penny called out, a little too loud and drawing the eyes of her coworkers to her. “Uh, do you have a minute?” she asked at a softer volume.

Skylar titled her wrist and her smartwatch lit up. “I have about 15 minutes until my next meeting. Is that enough?”

Penny nodded and followed the editor into her office, closing the door behind her.

“What’s up?” Skylar asked, as she placed the plastic takeout container in the mini fridge behind her desk.

“That column idea you mentioned a couple of weeks ago…” Penny trailed off, praying she wasn’t about to make a mistake. “I finally have an idea.” She stopped talking and stared at Skylar, waiting for her judgment to be handed down.

“Great. When do you think you can have it filed.”

“Tomorrow, end of day.”

“Perfect.” Skylar smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with Penny.”

Penny nodded her thanks and tried not to skip back to her desk. She opened her laptop and pulled up the draft she had been tinkering with the past couple of days, her fingers flying across the keys, unable to keep up with the speed of her thoughts.

“Wow, that’s some aggressive typing,” said Chad, the new intern that had been seated in the same desk pod as Chloe and Penny.

“Hey, Chad, do us a favor and shut up,” Chloe called.

Penny chuckled, but didn’t look away from her screen. She had a relationship to fix.

***

A/N: Well, it’s finally here, with just one part left! Thank you to anyone who’s still reading this. It means the world to me. Would love to hear what you think!

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[fieldofdaisiies]

Ars Amatoria | ch. II

-all rights reserved-

Elucien AU word count: 2,5k words warnings: explicit content

masterlist

“Holy Father! You are doing so well, bella, keep going like this!” Lucien encourages the woman bouncing on his hips.

His head is thrown back, a thin film of sweat coating his tanned skin, as he fists the creamy-white sheets on his bed and curses a little when she captures his earlobe between her lips, suckling a little.

She is eager, of course, but they just haven't really clicked. Lucien has to admit that what is happening between them is mediocre sex. Still, he wants to bring her the pleasure she deserves. After all she went home with him, expecting, if she had listened to the rumors about him, quite a ride with the youngest Vanserra brother. And he is giving her this ride, even though it might not be so satisfying for him.

Lucien feels the woman —Beatrice is her name— clench around him, knowing she is close. Her nails dig into his chest when she straightens up, her blond hair shifting over a shoulder. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she rides him faster and Lucien finds himself groaning lowly, his fingers digging into her hips.

He squeezes tightly, loving how it elicits soft and pretty, feminine sound from her lips. He wants her to enjoy it, wants to hear exactly these sounds  coming from her. And God, that she does enjoy. Beatrice comes with a loud cry of pleasure, which sounds quite good in Lucien’s ears.

He grins to himself, a little cockily and definitely in triumph, quickly hoisting her up and sliding out of her, because becoming a father is really not on his agenda at the moment. He spills himself into a cloth which he grabbed from his bedside table and then tosses it away. He will clean that up later. 

“God!” Beatrice expresses, pleasure and satisfaction etched into her features. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair tousled as she shifts a little. She climbs off the bed and starts looking for her clothes, slipping into her underwear just at the right moment.

A second later the big oak doors to Lucien’s room are pushed open, hitting the wall with a loud pang. 

No other than Eris Vanserra himself strolls into the room, a bitter expression on his face, his broad shoulders squared. His gloomy presence immediately fills the room, as he stands there in the doorframe like a demon who rose from hell. “Get up, get dressed. We need to talk, Lucien!”

Sitting up on the bed in all his nude glory, Lucien lifts his hand and waves it at his brother in an almost mocking way. “Good morning to you as well, Eris. How did you sleep, my dear brother? Oh, and thank you for also asking me. I didn’t sleep much, due to the phenomenal sex I had all throughout the night.”

Lucien grins in almost gleeful way, even though this is a lie, but Eris does not have to know that. His older brother only deigns him an annoyed look that speaks volumes: Don’t tempt me Lucien, don’t anger me and get your fat ass out of the bed. Now!

Eris’ jaw is clenched, his hair is ruffled from the wind blowing outside and in his eyes Lucien can spot the whirlwinds of stress and unease. His obvious distress can only mean one out of two things. First, that there is trouble in paradise. Eris' lover is once again not sure about their relationship or, even worse, wants to end everything once again. Or secondly, there is the possible chance of Jacobo Hybern once acting up and causing trouble in the otherwise peaceful city of Florence. Or in the city that once used to be peaceful. 

Lucien lifts his hand to his head, rubbing his palm down his face as he releases a long-suffering sigh. “Coming,” he says through gritted teeth, not in the slightest way happy about having to get up. He thought he could have a lie in after Beatrice leaves. Then enjoy lunch, head over to Jurian, but obviously his wonderful older brother has different plans for him. The doors stay open when Eris leaves, serving as a good reminder for Lucien to really get up and get moving. 

Beatrice only relaxes once the older Vanserra brother is out of sight, releases a loud breath and then quickly dons her dress. “Will I see you again?” she asks in a sweet tone, her big blue eyes searching Lucien’s gaze. “Sure.” 

He turns away from her when he gets up, so neither his eyes nor his expression can give him away. He stumbles through the room in search of trousers and a shirt. He picks up a pair of breeches from the previous day and fishes out a linen shirt from his closet. His hair goes into a low ponytail and only then he realises that Beatrice still has not left.

“You were amazing, bella. But you really need to leave now. It was my pleasure. The entrance door is to your right in the corridor.” Lucien bows at his waist and then practically shoves her out of this room, showing her the way out. When she turns, he waves at her, a smile forced onto his lips and the moment she is gone it vanishes. This morning is not at all how he planned it…

Lucien saunters to Eris’ office — nothing is rushing him and he really is not in the mood for some bank and business talk. And most definitely he is not in the mood, and clearly not ready, for what Eris has to tell me which will feel like a slap to his face. 

“The fuck I will do,” Lucien barks and places his palms on the table, his shoulders squared. His legs are planted wide when he thrusts his chest out. Eris just silently regards his brother, his face showing nothing but cool boredom. It is not what Eris feels inside.

He is remorseful that he has to marry his younger brother off, that he has to bind him to a person, but it is the only thing he can do. With their current situation he has to take these measures. They need allies from Venice  —desperately need them— and what better way to secure an ally than with marriage.

“She is a lovely young wom—“ “I don’t care. Even if she is the most beautiful woman in the whole entire world. I am not going to marry her.”

“Yes, you will,” Eris responds with a stern tone, his brows furrowing as he runs his index finger along the marking etched into his mahogany desk. Eris wants to name all the reasons why it is so important, but his frustration over his own life, the desperation of the bank, the feud with the Hybern bank, reach the surface and get the best of him.

“It is finally time for you to live your life right! And that is only possible with a wife who bring you back onto the right path.”

And almost gleeful half-grin appears on Lucien’s face when he gives his head a little shake. “Oh, is it? Isn't it you who instead of horses rides Ardinghelli’s cock every now and then? And that while your wonderful wife is sitting alone in Rome.”

Lucien leans further forward, watching the colour drain from his brother’s face, as the words leave a bitter taste behind in his mouth. He didn't mean to speak them, but his anger got the best of him. 

Consumed by a fiery fury, since not having expected his brother to know, Eris pushes his chair back and rises to his feet, his palms planted on the desk. Glowering into his younger brother's eyes, they resemble nothing but furious whirlwinds of anger.

“Don’t ever say something like that aloud again, Lucien.” Eris seethes, his voice tinged with warning, as he speaks through gritted teeth. It is not only anger that plays a role here, but also panic. If someone found out that he and Azriel Ardinghelli have an affair, things would take a drastic turn — it would mean exile, or worse…death. 

“Then don’t tell me that a wife would make me live my life right. I am doing everything right already. I don’t need some woman glued to my side to show me how to be a better person.” 

Actually, Lucien thinks, he probably does. But he won't admit that and first and foremost all, it should not be some random woman. He…had someone he wanted to marry. Years ago, there was a woman in his life he wanted to marry. To start a family with. Jesminda. Her death, due to Tuberculosis, still haunts him. He hasn’t had a partner since then, too afraid of the loss. And he is definitely not going to agree to an arranged marriage. Never ever.

“Lucien.” Eris’ tone is softer now and the older Vanserra brother closes his eyes for a moment.

“No.” The Lucien's nostrils flare a little while he watches his brother with something like a predatory gaze. How can Eris do this to him?

“Lucien. You know what depends on it. You know why we need it.” Eris looks frustrated and lets himself fall back into his chair, exhaling loudly. “You think I am marrying you off because I want to? You really think so?” “I think you are pulling rank here.” Lucien huffs as he pushes off the desk and straightens up. He still glowers at his brother, but he can see the regret flaring to life in Eris’ eyes. Deep inside, Lucien knows that Eris does not want to force him to marry, but is there no other way. They have to go such lengths in order for their bank to survive the fight with the rival one?

“Please, Lucien. Consider it.” Eris’ voice is solemn, his posture slouched. He knows what it means to marry someone you don’t love. He is trapped in such a relationship, and will be for the rest of his live. Ianthe does not love him, nor has she ever as much as tried to show him any kind of love or respect. And neither has he. He loves another and he can’t do anything against these feelings. He also can’t force feelings for Ianthe. It just is how it is and it is the life he has to live with. 

Lucien shrugs slowly and blows out a breath. “I will consider it. But only—” He pauses and lifts a finger. “If she is pretty.”

His brother only rolls his eyes, a low chuckle leaving him. “Lucien.” “I will consider it, alright?” 

“Alright.”

Now Lucien also sits down, across from Eris and crosses one ankle over his knee. “What did Jacobo say?” Eris purses his lips and shakes his head a little, then he folds his hands in front of him on the table. “Jacobo was not there. Only Tamlin. And well, the idiot only said he could not talk to me and I should return when his uncle is back.” Eris’ eyes move towards the curtain-framed window and his chest heaves with the next breath he takes in. Then he shakes his head and rubs his palm over his chin, his demeanour showing exactly how exhausted he is feeling. He looks back at Lucien and then just watches him for a long moment. His younger brother can see the weariness in Eris’ eyes, the fear, the dread, the uncertainty about the future. 

“We need to find out if they are truly evading taxes, and lying to the people,” Lucien mutters and Eris shrugs as an answers. There is so much they have to find out, so much they have to take care of. Too much…

“It doesn’t matter. Even if they do, we first need proof for it and that will be damn hard to collect. They leave no traces behind.” “Can Ardinghelli not do anything? As an archivist he must have quite an insight into all kinds of documents.” 

But Eris only shakes his head again. “I asked him already. He said his hands are technically tied in that matter, but there is anyway nothing they did. We have no proof. He also found nothing.”

Silence falls over the room, one can only hear the clock on the wall, ticking audibly which nerves Lucien and makes him fill giddy. It reminds him of how quickly time passes and how much you should value every moment of your life. “When will she arrive here? When—what is even her name?”

“Elain,” Eris answers and smiles. “Elain d'Archeron is her name and she will arrive here within a few days.”

The name has a nice ring to it, Lucien gathers, but that is all. “She is a merchant’s daughter?” 

A lop-sided smile appears on Eris’ face and he nods. “Her father claims himself the best merchant Venice has ever seen. He already married his other daughters off. One of them to the Duke of Milan.” Lucien raises his brows at that, leaning forward as some curiosity blooms in his chest. 

“So they are quite influential?”

Eris bows his head and lifts up a stack of papers, placing it down in front of him. He absently browses through them, only skimming over the words and sentences. “Messer Archeron is just like us searching for allies. So with you marrying Elain, you will also become family with the Duke of Milan.” 

Brilliant, Lucien thinks, his sarcasm even loud and clear in his mind. He does not hate the Duke of Milan, hate is a too harsh word, but he also does not specifically like him. 

“Is Elain the youngest?” Lucien asks, his voice tinged with curiosity. He does not want to marry her, alright, but asking a few questions about her won't harm him. 

Eris tells him that she is the middle child and Lucien only as much as nods in acknowledgment. He also finds out that she is only 21 years old and gathers that she is most likely a virgin. He feels sorry about that. As they are only married on paper nothing much will change about that. He is not going to exploit their arranged marriage for his own pleasure and he would never force her into sleeping with him unless she herself wants it and consents to it. Which again will most likely not happen. Lucien has seen his brother’s marriage with Ianthe and he knows that if his relationship with Elain is only half as heartless as theirs is, they won’t ever even hold hands. And that thought, even though he does not know her yet, makes a big part of his chest ache. Just like him, Elain does not deserve this. She deserves a happy marriage… But their fate is sealed and nothing much can be done. Lucien, deep down in his heart, knows that there is no way out for him. That he will in the end agree, for his family and also for the bank. 

There are only a few days left where Lucien is free…where he is not bound to a woman he would have never chosen, he will most likely never be able to love. That is truly an alluring prospect for him — not. 

~~~~~~~

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for @elucienweekofficial 💛

[typekiku]

thoughts on TYPE MOON stuff

well these are my the type moon stuff i have read or watched or whatever so far. this is my opinion only so its inherently correct argue with the wall or touch grass as the youth say SO here it goes drum roll

FATE EXTRA

boring as shit. no joke im sorry its just booty cheeks but of the not sexy kind. its beyond mid its so mid i cant even act like i enjoyed it. it has an interesting concept and world sure but everything else is doo doo butter.

only good part is nero being hot asf and ig whatever servant there is because i only used nero (lmao i aint playing it all over again) she was funny at times

see shes hilarious at times... im sure CCC will change my mind... right? it has sakura what am i saying its PEAK

also fuck them for including arcueid in this crap

GARDEN OF SINNERS

i honestly dont have much to say about this one it never really clicked with me nor did i ever feel anything about it... BESIDES TOUKO

TOUKO IS SO HOT OMG

clears throat

that aside yea i genuinely dont have any opinion on this series of movies good or bad besides movies 3 and 5 which were my favorites

maybe i need to rewatch em one day and really try to get into it

FATE STRANGE FAKE

my favorite spin off in the whole fate franchise. it has some of my absolute favorite characters and GIL like what else would one even want in life amirite

some of my favorites are:

Richard: the absolute goat and one of my fav servants ever

Enkidu: i want a spinoff of gil and enkidu... is that so hard to ask??

Flat: my son

Jack: my uhhh child ig

alcides: the closest we will get to archer herc but just pure cool regardless

hansa: cyborg priest. nothing gets cooler then that

and many more im already too ti- FILIA - red to mention

i've only read up to volume 7 so i gotta get to reading the rest soon

its just pure chaos and is fun while doing so despite being slow as shit

FATE GRAND ORDER

ok this is the most complicated series here in a way since its so incredibly mixed.

there are some of the highest peaks in fate and then some of the lowest lows so lets see

Highest peaks:

babylonia

Camelot

lb5 (YES olympus and atlantis im tired of acting like olympus isnt peak NO heian kyo its mid)

LB6

the rest of the lostbelts are good but not that good

goetia is an incredible villain

lowest lows:

first five singularities

solomon im sorry the stuff with goetia was peak but the rest was average

gameplay

gacha

serious lack of male summer servants like cmon i wanna see them abs

overall fgo is alright but some parts of it is straight up incredible HOWEVER all of it is seriously held back by being a gacha mobile game and has to work around that limitation

also it has barghest whom i absolutely adore

also fuck fgo for forgetting medea...

WITCH ON THE HOLY NIGHT

now this is peak. the most gorgeous tm work by far i have to say its simply an incredible read all around. even tsukire did not look or work or sound as good as mahoyo did even tho it came out almost ten(?) years after

on the story front i loved it too with a special shoutout to soujuuro being one of my favorite characters in TM (i say this often not my fault type moon keeps releasing bangers)

however mahoyo has two issues for me:

the story is clearly incomplete: i dont mean its just nonsense or whatever but when nasu said its the first of a trilogy you can just feel that in the story with alot of things being left in the air. this wouldnt be an issue really if mahoyo 2 wasnt basically dead....

i didnt vibe with the slice of life scenes as much as i usually do in nasu works: this isnt a flaw in the story more so i just didnt like em idk how else to word that

mahoyo is a great read however and i highly highly recommend you read it or else

it also has touko enough said

TSUKIHIME (original version)

Greatest of all time. Zenith of the medium. Hallmark of media. Gold standard of storytelling. Apogee of creativity. Vertex of invention. Crest of ingenuity. Acme of imagination. Pinnacle of innovation. Epic of epics. Legend among legends. Peak fiction

ok fr tho its actually incredible and you should read it right the fuck now

all of the characters are simply chefs kiss. while the visual novel is incredibly dated and the art is even worse you have to understand this is nasu and takeuchis first ever visual novel made on a barely existing budget.

boy do they make up for that.

the vn is split into two with a near side and far side.

while the near side is really good with arcueid and ciels route (ignore how ciel was actually really fucked over even in her own route its laughable and my girl deserved better) the far side is so much more better and really is where the soul of tsukihime and shiki the main character lies

i cba to review it properly besides saying PLEASE READ IT RN or ill cry and you dont wanna see that do you....

heres my ranking of the routes btw best to worse:

hisui

kohaku

akiha

arcueid

ciel

shoutout to satsuki you finally are gonna get the route you deserved

KAGETSU TOHYA

um it has some cool lore and some really good short stories and... yea thats about it...

dont have much else to add...

play it with a guide because the structure of the game is abysmal

FATE STAY NIGHT

what is there to be said about such a masterpiece? what else could be written about fsn that hasnt been written before? i am but an ant in the shadow of the giant that is FSN only seeking some crumbs to feed and live off of. idk what that means but it sounds cool.

FSN is simply tms best work all around. while i prefer tsuki over it and find the tsuki side of TM more interesting FSN overall is much stronger on most fronts but especially its main characters

Shirou emiya is simply the goat nothing else to be said tbh

heres my ranking of the routes:

issei route

heavens feel

ubw

fate

FATE ROUTE MUST BE REANIMATED RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SABER DESERVES TO HAVE A PROPER ADAPTATION RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

we need more medea and kuzuki holy shit are they cute

FATE HOLLOW ATARAXIA

thank you type moon for making a good kagetsu tohya. its actually impressive just how much better this is then KT like seriously what the fuck did they take to drop this banger of a vn

KT had such shit comedy i didnt even giggle throughout it but THIS

THIS is a emotional rollercoaster of a whole different kind.

introducing the third (arc and medea are first and second) love of my life Bazett and angra we go through an incredible main story intermingled with hilarious and wholesome slice of life scenes that never overstay their welcome

this vn completely changed my opinion on some characters especially illya who went from someone i was kinda 50/50 on to adoring her overall

ALSO MEDEA SCENES YES I WON MOTHERFUCKERS I WO- huh? whats that? fgo basically replaced her with medea lily?

one hour of sobbing later

if you have read fsn and not FHA then i must ask you.. wtf is wrong with you psycho? you like missing out on good things? that wouldnt be me is all im saying

read it.

(in case you're wondering yes there is someone i deliberately didnt mention because my opinion on them is too complicated)

TSUKIHIME REMAKE

im not a fan of remaking classics on the level of tsuki. with all its flaws i still find the original to be good enough to not need a remake...

UNTIL I READ THE REMAKE

this is how you do it folks. the story was elevated on nearly every level and if it was the complete story id say its the best ever in existence ever forever fr. its just that good.

there are three things i really want to point out:

while maybe goin overboard i really liked the buffs all the characters received and in general the whole worldbuilding is so much better now with idea bloods and principles and vampire hierarchies and arcueid inflation scenes (heh) its just epic

ciel got a so much better route that actually feels like a ciel route and not just arcueid route 2 electric bugaloo (and getting fucking cucked)

noel is peak

this is peak type moon and when red garden comes out it will be even BETTER especially with satsuki route because satsuki deserves it

there are some other short stories i havent mentioned like garden of avalon, notes, MAGNITUNING (look it up you wont regret it) its all great and worth the time of reading

eventually i wanna play CCC and read some other stuff like maybe prillya DDD, fgo jp like lb7 traum and whatnot

i just wrote this for fun so dont really take anything i say seriously except for the teeny little part where im inherently correct.

uh if you are reading like or share or whatever tf it was idk

ciao

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review: Tantamount to Treason Volume 1 (1972)

Easily in my top three favorite Mike albums, although I didn’t appreciate it at all until my second full listen - I think if you experience this one casually, or as background music, it doesn’t quite “click.” After Nevada Fighter, Michael disbanded the First National Band and made a Second one - retaining only himself and his beloved Red. Although the album is officially titled “Volume 1,” a second volume has never been released and Michael stated that one was never planned to be released; whether or not we can trust this is another matter, but I’m not really ready to go full tin-hat about it.

Favorite parts of the album:

The keyboards on this album are just incredible - the solos in “Mama Rocker” and “Wax Minute” are enough to knock your socks off. The same feeling of mellow, slightly psychedelic sound you saw being developed in Loose Salute is fully fleshed out here, especially through “You Are My One” and “In the Afternoon.” There is a generally warmer, heavier tone to this album than was felt in MS/LS/NF and it is pretty safe to say that this is no longer “country” rock, although Michael always sort of exists within his own genre.

(continued under the cut as this one got a little long)

Still, his covers of “Talking to the Wall” and “She Thinks I Still Care” add all the lonesome moroseness of good country music without feeling too out of place. The base album is great on its own, but the re-release bonus tracks (including a jam-session style version of “Listen to the Band,” a cover of “Six Days on the Road” that just makes you rev your engine, and the deliciously catchy instrumental “Tan My Hide” - there’s also a version of “Circle Sky” that sounds like a better version of the revamped track which ended up on Justus in the ‘90s.) “Wax Minute” deserves its own full sentence - although he didn’t write this one (Richard Stekol did, and I don’t see that any other artist has recorded it officially - it almost seems as if it was written to sound like a song written by Mike, and from that outside angle it is so plainly complex, not over-wrought, just tenderhearted contemplation) - it is a fan-favorite for a very good reason - it is one of the best and most passionate songs he’s ever recorded and he always sounds so good doing it live, even if he gripes and moans that it’s too hard to sing. Get over it!

Critiques:

“Bonaparte’s Retreat” is not my favorite song - I like it well enough on its own, but I wish it was on an album like Magnetic South that is better suited to that sort of twangy sound. Also, some of these songs need to be about 3-4 minutes longer, minimum. For the base album to cap out at 37 minutes is criminal - he had all the makings of an excellent prog rock artist, but what can you do.

Conclusion:

I go back and forth about whether this is my favorite of his albums, and I still can’t tell. I guess that will be revealed as I finish this review series - maybe I hesitate to call it like it is because I know in my heart it’s the truth. Plus the liner notes have a homebrewed beer recipe from our own Papa Nez, so… like, yeah, it’s a winner.

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire

chapter twenty two - teamwork makes the dreamwork

warnings: canon typical violence, graphic depiction of injuries, punisher type shit again boys. swearing, some creepy shit tbh borderline stalker shit like someone call svu. this bitch is kinda creeping me out tbh. NOT loving the vibes.

a/n: okay i hate the beginning of this chapter but just GET THRU OKAY. BARE W/ ME!!!! cute stuff sprinkled in with the pain. you guys should SEE the draft for the next chapter omfg. it’s becoming a lot. OKAY GO.

— also, i’m really hoping i got everyone in the taglist, some of the tags aren’t working maybe due to your tumblr settings?? i’ll keep adding ur names if it fixes itself :) and let me know if ur not on it and would like to be!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Ten.”

“Fourteen. Easily.”

“Ten.” Frank says a little harsher in your ear. “There’s ten of ‘em.”

“I just counted twelve. The stairway has at least three people.” The other end of the line goes quiet now, and you adjust the volume of the speaker in your ear to make sure you aren’t missing anything. “Frank?”

“Yeah. Fourteen.” He says quietly, and you can almost see the face he’s making. So stubborn.

“You didn’t see the stairwell, did you?”

“Alright, smart ass. Move down, I’ll meet you at the end.”

“What would you do without me?” You sigh and hear the line click off. Even here, tucked away behind the glass window outside the building, it was hard not to smile.

You’d arrived at the base about an hour ago, but there’d been too many people to pull up right away. Frank had spent the rest of the time going through the points of entry and exits in every room from when he was here the first time. There was one area of the holding he didn’t know, though, and a blacked out spot on the map. You’d have to figure it out while you were down there. Down there, even thinking about it made you squirm.

“Be careful.” His voice quickly adds as you shuffle inside the gap of the window, and it clicks off again before you can reply. Your heart still skips a little every time he says shit like that, but when your feet land on the hard concrete ground, any fluffy feelings drop out and splat next to them.

Even the smell of this place makes you want to vomit. It had been a while since you’d seen the top side of this base, but it’s in a hell of a lot worse shape than you remember. Riddled with bullet holes and held up with half-finished scaffolding, it was one gust of wind away from falling in on itself. Besides the condemned state, the building was alive only because of the men crawling around inside of it. Frank was on the opposite side to you, getting the high ground above a group of fourteen milling around the outside. You were tasked with getting inside the locker that held the master keys, and the enhanced strength in your veins nearly hums at the chance of release.

You used to dream about those keys. That box in this room, how teasingly close it was.

Keeping yourself tucked tight to the wall, you try to leave as little trace as possible bare the footprints trailing behind you in the settled dust. As you shift further into the building, you hear something fall and clatter off to your left. You disappear into the shadows as two men walk past, lost in conversation. A familiar buzz rushed in your veins— a feeling you normally hated, but now it was you calling for it, it made you feel strong. Powerful.

You stepped out just as the men stopped in front of the door you needed to enter, and neither of them had the time to scream before you tore them apart— the only sound the clatter of keys falling against the concrete, and the muffled tearing of flesh.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank felt good. It’s a thought he only had admitted a few times, but firing rounds into an open target range, hearing every single one pound into muscle and bone— it felt good.

Even here, surrounded and boxed in on all sides, he still looked down to where you were, watching you try about eight different keys before you figured out the one to the lockbox. His job was to take out as many as he could while you got the keys to go downstairs, and by the time you were done, you’d take it together. He knew the real prize was downstairs, but he’d have to kill every man in this room before he’d let you go down there, and he’d be right in front of you.

The empty click of his gun shot him back into the moment, dropping the larger one for the pistol in his jeans. He moved closer to the remaining five men, making the first shot count right through the eye of the man closest to him. He heard you before he saw you, even the pained groans of the men he was laying into wouldn’t be enough to block out his sensors that honed into you.

A man came from the left, and he took a quick step back, using the momentum to grab the opposite side of his head and slam it over the railing. His skull gave way, cracking in a splatter of dark red, practically pouring over the right side of Franks body. He swung first on the next guy, feeling bones break under the strength of his punch. It was some sick kind of therapy, but it was here he used to feel the most comfortable— throwing his weight behind every hit, there used to be no where else he’d find his brain quiet.

Not now. All he could think of was this morning. Having you laid on his chest, his hands in your hair, and how he didn’t have to think of anything else. Couldn’t dream of it, not when you were that close; close enough he could feel the soft flutter of your eyelashes on his skin, or the trace of your fingers along the scars on his chest. As he watched the consciousness fade out of the eyes of the man in front of him, for the first time in years he found himself wishing he could be somewhere else.

The man drops to his knees in front of him, then face plants onto the concrete floor. You followed, jumping from the upper floor railing down in front of him, your face screwed up as you looked him up and down.

“Way to be discreet.” He can feel the blood pooling in his shoes with each step he takes, ignoring the comment and following you towards the two locked doors that lead to the basement.

“You get the keys?” You were already putting them in the door, but as you turned the key, they didn’t budge.

“These are the ones. It’s just old.” You look up at him, and turn the handle again, shoving your shoulder into the door. It moves slightly, but as you wind up again, Frank kicks it down, stopping you from whacking it again. Rubbing your now bruised shoulder, you look up at him. “I had it.”

“I know.” He steps through first. It’s dark in the corridor, the two of you stopping at the top of the first set of stairs. No lights, and a layer of dust resting mid air gives the whole place an eerie feel. If Frank was even getting a bad feeling from this place, he didn’t need to say anything to know what was going through your head.

He reaches out, threading his fingers through yours and watching as you grab tightly as soon as he fits his hand to you. You were holding him like a vice, and even though your face was calm, your hand was shaking no matter how tightly he held you back.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t hold my hand to do this.” Frank sighs, shaking his head doing nothing to hide the small smile that only you could give him.

“I’m full of shit. You know that.”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, stepping closer to him. You take the stairs two at a time, but he doesn’t mistake the pace for eagerness, if only to get this shit over with as fast as possible. And it would be, fast and quick. In and out. Frank promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to you— and this time, he was planning on keeping it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t realised how far down you were. All those years down here, and you thought it was only a few levels. You used to be able to hear the gun shots going off above you, and you thought it must only be about 10 flights of stairs at the most. You feel like you’ve been going down sets of stairs for hours now.

You haven’t heard anything yet, but you know Bobby will be hiding out somewhere down here. Very few people knew this place existed, and fewer would know the ins and outs of the cells. His father even used this place as a hideout a few times— and it was this that ticked in the back of your mind when you saw that blacked out part on the map. Knowing how twisted Bobby is, you could only imagine what his father used this giant space for. It was a fucking maze even in the light, but it only got darker and darker the further you went.

Neither of you have spoken, not wanting to give your position away, and about twenty minutes ago your initial fear had worn off and you’d dropped Franks hand, the contact only making you wish you weren’t here. It was like you were magnetised to him— not able to stop yourself from wanting to be closer, no matter where you were. Even here, and maybe it was the perfect distraction, because before you knew it, you caught a glimpse of flat ground, and you know you’d made it to the bottom.

“Stay behind me.” Frank whispers in your ear, his hand lightly squeezing your hip as he gets in position. Still no lights, and not a sound.

“The cell. It’s close. We can start there.” You say, and Frank nods, seemingly remembering. His jaw twitches, a tell tale sign he was hyping himself up for a fight.

You walk behind Frank, not that you’re given much of a choice. The walkway was narrow, and the cell doors next to you were all swung wide open except for the one that the end. Yours. You notice a door between cells, closed, with a chain and lock wrapped around it. Frank stops when you point it out silently, trying the handle. When it doesn’t budge, he pushes you to keep walking, but looks over the top of you at the door again.

“You remember it?” As far as you can remember, there was only meant to be the door they took you out of down here, which was behind you on the opposite side of your old cell. Frank shakes his head.

“Wasn’t on the layout..”

“We’ll come back.” Frank urges you further, sticking to your original plan. Madani had sent him a blueprint of the building from when her and the CIA had raided it all those months ago.

Frank stops suddenly, you nearly running into the back of him. Stepping around, you nearly choke on your exhale.

You didn’t want to feel anything. It was just a room, one that you weren’t attached to anymore. It felt so long ago when you weren’t here, but now you were surrounded by the smell of stale air, and seeing the old stains on the concrete— it knocked the wind out of you. You went to step closer, but Franks arm stopped you.

“Not here. Let’s go back.” Frank says, pulling you back.

Right. Bobby. You look around for any signs of life— and he really wasn’t here. That was impossible, you knew him. You remember what he said last time. He…

“He’s not here.” You spin around, confused. “Why would he not be here?”

“Too open. We can wait him out—“

“He should be here. Or at least, around here.” Your voice gets a little louder, and Frank looks over his shoulder before walking closer to you.

“He’s got men here. We’ll find him. We gotta wait it out.” The room felt smaller all of a sudden, the walls feeling way to close. You felt like if you breathed each shoulder would press into the hard, cold concrete. “He’s hiding. Probably back there.”

You could hardly hear him anymore.

You forgot how cold it was in here. Like standing on a frozen lake with none of the open space. You hadn’t realised your eyes were squeezed shut until Franks hands grabbed your face and you felt the light flood back to them.

“Hey.” His voice is calming, even though it’s low and gravelly.

“I don’t want to be in here anymore.” You whisper.

“Let me get you out of here.” He tries to guide you but your legs move so slow. You were shaking like a leaf. It was too soon to be here— you couldn’t do this. It was too soon. The chains that were wrapped around your ankles were still resting in the corner, wrapped to the leg of the bed.

Your chest started to burn, and a feeling you hardly remembered started to bubble in your stomach, but Frank made you focus.

“Tell me about it. The door up here. You ever seen anyone goin’ in or out?”

“I don’t even know if I’ve seen it before.” Your voice wavered, and Frank stayed close to you as you stepped further away from the cell. “I don’t… I don’t think it was ever open. I would of seen it— an open door only a few meters away. Maybe when I was asleep, or his— no. Wait, I remember his dad said something about it, or something about a hanger or something. He used to have vintage planes restored under the building. Maybe it’s below us?”

“Okay. Good. Doin’ good. You think you can break the chain?” Looking over his shoulder, the rusted locks look flimsy enough for someone like you. Nodding, you reach for them, and the feeling of chains under your hands, and this whole corridor of darkness sends a shiver up your spine.

Frank steadies you with a simple brush of his arm against yours. Accidental, but he doesn’t have to try. He always steadies you now. You give the chains one yank and they break off completely.

“Atta girl.” Frank says, and shoves the doors wide open. You just want to get away from that room, so when the stairs lead down even further, you don’t hesitate to walk down. Frank is behind you, then next to you, then in front of you. “You okay?”

“I am. Now.” You nod, and the way he looks at you has you forgetting that tight chest feeling.

For the first time in a while, you didn’t have to count your breaths.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was getting too dark to see, and Frank could hear the splash of water under his boots. Whoever was down here will be counting on the element of surprise. Frank wouldn’t give it to them.

He kept you tucked behind him against the wall, moving through the dark passageways below the base. He has no idea how far down he is now, but the wall still feels like brick under his palm, so not far enough that they couldn’t build structure. That was good— it meant there was a chance they weren’t so far below sea level, which was more chance for a quick exit.

A loud bang from behind him rings down one of the pipes overhead. You both freeze, heads snapping in the direction.

Frank drags you behind him again, moving towards the sound. It was still pitch black, but another bang made him turn left at the first gap. He was trying to remember how many times they’d turned in the darkness— he was at two lefts and a right, now another left—

Another loud bang, followed by three gun shots, the shells clanging on the floor. It had to be close now, whoever it was. He turned again, keeping one hand on you, the other on his gun. When he rounds the next corner, there’s a sliver of light, and another doorway.

“You think that—“ You whisper, but Frank covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.” He knows once Bobby realises your here, all hell will break loose. He can’t see shit in here, but he’s gotta think of another way. Walking straight through their front door would be a dumb-ass plan, but it’s about the only one he’s got right now.

There’s another bang in the opposite direction. Not from the door. Almost in response, there’s three gun shots again, this time under the door. The bang from behind gets closer, and if he waits any longer both of you will lose any advantage you had. They must be communicating through the pipes— no reception down here, and as soon as they heard you coming they’d need a way that couldn’t be intercepted.

“You…in there. I… go around.” You whisper through his hand, mumbled words that he knows mean splitting up. It’s smart, and right now you’re both in more danger together than you would be split up. But he still can’t leave you. Not again.

“Hang on—“

“Bobby… would have the gun. You take him, I’ll get… other one.” You shove his arm off you, and he can only see you about to run off because of how close he is.

It’s smart. He’s almost pissed that you put it together so fast. He feels you push against him, but you stop when you feel him breathe out. He doesn’t have time to hold you here, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to. You lean up on your toes, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down, his head falling naturally into the crook of your neck.

“An hour. If I’m not back, come for me.” You say, and then you shove him off and disappear into the dark.

He steps back with a stumble, forgetting how strong you were. Another gun shot bursts in his right ear, and the light under the door is interrupted by shadows. A body.

An hour. He’s got an hour. Now you weren’t with him, his mind falls into a colder, harder place. One that has him shuffling back along the wall, loading his gun and slamming the door down.

The light hits him— blinds him for a second, but he hears the three men on the right and takes them out first. Two shots in the first body, blood splattering on the dark green paint behind. The next guy gets too close and Frank grabs him by his neck, using the momentum to crush his head against the wall. He can feel the bone split under his hand, but he’s too busy aiming over his shoulder, watching the next body hit the ground from his well placed shot.

He moves with his body low to the ground, using the cover of the wall in front of him to stay hidden as his eyes adjust. He looks around the room now he can see it, and he can tell no one’s been down here for a while. There’s plenty of canned food lining the shelves in front of him. Whoever brought them down was planning to stay a while. Then there’s black cases, he recognises those. Weapons— outlines of guns, grenades, all empty and unlocked, just leaving behind an outline.

He hears more footsteps and doesn’t hesitate, reaching around the corner and grabbing the neck of the next man. Sending his skull back into the brick, he fires his gun again, feeling the dead weight fall back onto him before shrugging it off and reloading.

He loses count. He always does. Must be nine, ten bodies behind him as he makes his way through the apocalyptic looking basement. The men he catches flashes of don’t look familiar— clearly no one Bobby would of had up top. Frank hasn’t seen any of their faces, not never even in Madani’s database. It makes sense, to keep these guys hidden. Because they were getting harder and harder to kill.

Frank shoots the guy underneath him once, then twice in the chest. Still he fights, clawing at Franks face and punching him in the gut. His fists nearly meet bone, they’re so strong. Too strong. Only one person has ever punched him out like this. Eventually, Frank holds his head down long enough to shoot him in the head, but he’s panting.

Wiped, he drags himself up, shoulders tense as he listens out for more footsteps. He’s made his way into an open area now, with a platform on a second level. For being underground, the place opens up in front of him, the stairs leading up giving space for at least two levels before they reach the room at the top. There’s windows in the room up top, perfectly placed to look over where he is. Another gunshot rings out, and he looks up.

“Not the pretty sight I was expecting. Although, you do know how to put on a good show.” The voice echos throughout the giant room, and Franks already moving towards the stairs. “Ah. I wouldn’t.”

Bobby Gnucci has a gun pointed down at him, but it doesn’t unnerve Frank in the slightest. He moves slower, hoping to draw him down further, feigning a little hesitation. This guys ego is as big as this fucking base, and he doesn’t want to blow it just yet. Not when he doesn’t know where you are.

“You’ve been busy.” He says, not moving when Frank takes a step up. “Do you have any idea how long I spent training those units?”

Frank continues to the top of the platform, now level with the barrel of Bobby’s shotgun.

“Not as long as I spent with her, of course. She is quite special isn’t she? I suppose you already know how special—“

“Say another fucking word about her and I’ll kill you.” He has the balls the fucking smile, and Frank feels his hands get tighter on the barrel.

“That isn’t what I heard.” Frank doesn’t show a damn thing on his face. “You are here to take me into… federal custody. That’s how it was put, yes? Never did I think I would live to see the day. The Punisher returns only to be a glorified pig.”

“You willing to take that chance?” Bobby steps back when Frank pushes up.

“I’m willing to offer to you a deal.” Now Frank smiles, a dry scoff breaking the silence in the room.

“You really got your head up your ass, don’t you?” Bobby backs up against the door of the room overlooking the large building, but he doesn’t seem out of options. Frank considers taking the shot.

He could still do this.

Forget the whole deal, take you out of here and leave all this shit behind. He’d never make you come back to a place like this, never have to watch you walk into a room he couldn’t get you out of. He’d take you away from everything. Maybe upstate, do a few jobs here and there to keep the money coming in— he thought about it too much, probably for too long.

He’d keep you safe.

He knows he could. This shit might not end for him, but he could end it for you here and now. Do the one thing he’s good at.

“Let me show you something that might change your mind.” He opens the door, and the first thing Frank sees is the monitor over his head, and your limp body strapped to a chair.

Your eyes weren’t open, and you were bleeding from your head. That little scar on your face… completely covered with dark blood, your shoulders sagging over. Your hands and feet were cuffed together, and there was a strange haze over the room you were in.

His blood was boiling. He lunged at Bobby, but he’d been too busy staring at the screen. Too busy to notice the three guys in the room. Without the element of surprise Frank gets the wind knocked out of him, and then he feels his face hit the concrete.

They were too fucking strong. Hands the size of his own gripping his arms and legs, holding him to the floor like he weighed nothing. He ripped and strained at anything he could but there was no point in fighting. It didn’t stop him thrashing, only looking at the way your head was flopped down on the monitor, damp with your own blood. He got a few decent hits in before they wrangled him in again, his blood colouring the concrete.

“I admire it. Your… energy. Truely, it would be a shame to waste it here. Which is why I’m prepared to offer you a…solution to your problem.” Frank grunts and spits as the men haul him up, punching him in the stomach over and over so many times his vision starts to blur. Those stitches you did on him are ripped open and popped, blood soaking his shirt. “Clearly you’ve grown fond of my little girl—“

“Fuck you.” His mouth pools with blood, spraying over Bobby’s face as he gets closer.

“But I need her alive. Clearly, she doesn’t want to stay, so I’ll give you a fair deal.” Frank can’t feel the hits any longer, but he knows they keep coming. His legs give out as the men shove him on a chair, one of them focusing a strong hit to the open wound on his side that has him nearly screaming. He wouldn’t give him the fucking satisfaction. “I let you go. Both of you. Today. Enough blood has been spilt, and I’ve already made the mistake of taking one of her little conquests. So, I let you both walk out of here today. You go back to your little law firm, and your loyal friends at the CIA and you tell them it’s over. I’m dead.”

“Y-you must be lovin’ this. You feel like the big man yet?” Frank stutters out, falling into a wave of near unconsciousness. He’s laughing with no breath, loving the look on Bobby’s face, even with his eyes nearly swollen shut. He keeps punching him in the face, and even though Frank is the one getting beat to shit, it’s a win to him. He feels Bobby’s hand on his jaw, pressing hard. It’s nothing compared to the strength under the other sets of arms, but he still has to grind his teeth not to wince.

“You go back and tell them you were too late, and this? This all goes away. She can go home with you.” Frank isn’t focused, but he looks up with what little light he’s still holding in his vision. He sees you stir on the monitor, your head flipping to the other side. He thinks he recognises the room you’re in. He tries to move, but he’s weak now. “She goes with you, and you live your little fantasy for however long it takes for her to get bored, and realise I’m the only one that can give her what she really wants. What she can’t admit she craves.”

You were tugging at the cuffs. Thrashing now. Frank needs to fight— you were fighting, and he needed… fuck. He needs a full breath in, but they aren’t stopping. Fists flying at his ribs, ones that were already half cracked. Fists that could punch through stone, bruising their way through his body.

“The only condition I have, is that when I call, you bring her to me. You let me do whatever it is I need to do— whatever I want to do, and then she goes home free.”

“Free.” Frank spits again, shaking his head. What this guy really wants is for you to be at his beck and call for the rest of your life. Tethered to him, and he’s only offering because he knows you’ll never stop fighting him now you know what’s out there. Never stop fighting for him. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t let you be someone’s prisoner again. He—

“Free. That’s right.” Bobby says, and Frank can’t tell where he is anymore. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? I know what happened to your family. You need this as bad as I do. You get her a nice house, warm bed to come home to. And when I call? You bring her in. It’ll be easy. Look at how docile she is now! I’ll get you some of that stuff and she’s out like a light.”

Frank bares his teeth and lurched forward. Someone’s hands wrap around his throat and restrict his air flow. He sees stars, but he’s still fighting. Bobby says something in a language Frank doesn’t recognise, then talks right in his ear.

“You’ll come around. When you see what I do to her when she doesn’t comply, you’ll be begging me to offer this again.”

Frank can’t make a sound anymore. Too much pressure around his neck. Then he feels something else, something he recognises. It’s the barrel of Bobby’s shotgun pressing into his stomach, and he blacks out before he can hear if it goes off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stop moving.” Frank grumbles from beside you. It was impossible not to shift around in this tiny bed, which you were almost positive had been the scene of a crime at some point.

“It’s a water bed. It moves on its own.” Whoever decided putting a water bed in a hotel room was a good idea was dumb. Especially when every time one of you shifted it sent you both closer together. It wasn’t the first time on this trip you’d slept next to each other, but you weren’t sure how you felt about being shoved together in a bed that was stained a faint yellow.

“It moves when you move.” He says and rolls over, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. “You’re shivering.”

“Do you have any other complaints? You want to point out my grey hairs next?” You feel the heat of his breath of the back of your neck, and then the bed turns tidal as he sits up completely, shifting behind you. “Oh my god. What the fuck are you—“

You’re cut off by heavy fabric suffocating your open mouth, and it takes you a second to realise why everything’s gone dark. The first inhale and you can tell what it is. It smells like him. You haven’t admitted it to yourself yet, but you like that smell.

“Put it on. We’ll get you better clothes next time we stop.” He doesn’t roll over, still watching you as you wordlessly slip into the soft fabric of his jumper. You’ve worn it before, and Frank must of noticed how comfortable you seemed in it.

“Thought you’d want me to freeze.” It’s easier to play it off, the gesture one of many you haven’t decided how to read yet.

“Not when you shake like a chihuahua. Fuckin’ water bed…” He groans again and drops his body back down, nearly sending you flying off the other side. “Better?”

“I think I’m getting sea sick.”

“Go to sleep.”

You wait until you think he’s asleep to speak again.

“Thank you.” You whisper into the dark.

“Don’t worry about it.” He whispers back. When he shuffles behind you, and the waves of the mattress send you back against him, you squeeze your eyes shut and fall asleep before you can figure out why you don’t want to move from his side.

Gunshots woke you from sleep.

Your eyes didn’t open as fast as you wanted them to, and as you sucked in your first conscious breathe, you could taste something was wrong.

It tasted like stale bread— the air had a taste. You didn’t have a lot of experience with poison or gas, but you couldn’t think of anything natural that cause that kind of taste. Paired with how fuzzy your head felt right now, you knew you’d been fucked with in some way.

When your eyes finally opened, all the air you’d reluctantly taken in was shoved out of you. This room. You knew it just from staring at the floor. The stain on the ground. You tried to move your arm, but all it did was rattle the chains tied to the metal frame of your—the bed.

You tried to move your legs, hearing the same clanking sound with no payoff. You still thrashed against them, the fight sense kicking in and you not having enough clarity to save your energy. Everything was dialled to ten, being strapped back in here, held here.

Frank.

Frank would come. An hour, and he would come for you. You knew he would. You just had to outlast the hour.

Footsteps started coming down the hall, and you swallowed dryly, trying to ignore the sickness bubbling in your stomach. Even the smell of this room was the same. Same mattress. Like he was hoping… expecting you to come back. You know it’s him. Before you look up, you know.

“There you are, sunshine. How I missed you.” Bile burns in your throat.

You can’t talk, the gas in the room filling your chest and throat with dry, green smoke. You feel his grimy hands in your soaked hair, and when you’re forced to look up, he’s wearing a gas mask. It doesn’t hide the blood covering his face.

“I think it’s time we got caught up. Shall we?” Your eyes burn. Any of that strength you were feeling before seeps out of you, and the first slap of his hand sends you straight back into the darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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