#likely <500 words unless an idea really grips me

[lifeonthemurdersim]

HAPPY FUCKING HALLOWEEN!

I'm not sure I'll have many takers on this but to finish off GoreKinktober I want to play a game...

🕸Send me TRICK and a character/characters/ship and I'll write a gorey short piece!

OR

🕸Send me TREAT and a character/characters/ship and I'll write a smutty short piece!

Due to the content and because this is a MDNI account, 18+ askers and characters only please! If you want to add an additional prompt/theme then that would be great as it gives me more to work from!

People are welcome to reblog and do the same!

[windblooms]

Hi!! Could you do headcanons of Diluc, Kayea, Childe and Zhongli with a s/o who is touch starved but is too shy to intimate physical affection please? Thank you!💙

decided to answer the two of these in the same ask since they have similar personalities for the reader, and they evolved into scenarios.  hopefully what i’ve written is all right!

edit: to the second anon, i’m sorry, i don’t know how people write more than 500 characters in asks. ㅠㅠ  is it maybe a submission . . . ?

childe:

as a very perceptive individual, childe would pick up on your hesitations relatively soon, however won’t say anything about them outright.  

while he may ask you if something’s wrong whenever you reach out, but self-consciously pull away, or when you’re on the verge of words but can’t bring yourself to speak, he won’t pry into your meekness. 

he knows that some people prefer to keep things to themselves or away from others – he’s a prime example of this himself.  so he doesn’t want to push you, but will continue to keep mental tabs on when you shrink away, or backtrack after you sound as if you’re going to ask him something.

if the trend continues for a while, he’ll eventually sit down to talk with you about it.  he’ll discuss with you patiently, not wanting to invade past things you might not want to share just yet, but he still tries to find the cause of your hesitancies so he can better understand you.

“there’s something bothering you, isn’t there?” he leans forward across the table, and rests his chin on his hand.  “you can tell me, you know.  i’ll try and help you with it.”

as you take your time to answer, he grows increasingly concerned, but still wears a poker face to not influence you as well.  across the table, he’ll slowly reach out his hand as a means of comfort, and clasp yours when you don’t pull away.

you begin to speak about your uncertainties, and childe listens intently.  ah, so that was it – now that you mention it, the two of you don’t hold hands much, or really touch each other.  he had assumed that’s how you preferred it, little to no physical touch.  but now that you’ve explained why you’ve concealed those wishes . . . 

“i’d be more than willing to hold you.”  childe’s words are soft, and he manages a small smile to encourage you.  as soon as your face flushes, though, he can tell that there’s something else you want to say.  so he pauses, expectant, but you still seem nervous.

he takes a gander and speaks.  “we can start off slow, if you want . . .  actually, anything you want, you can tell me.  you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed.”

from there, the two of you work out what you want.  you both agree to take it slow, since this will be a first for you; small touches against each other’s fingers as reassurance, and taps against his shoulder when you’re too nervous to outright ask for his attention.  he also has something of his own to suggest:

“there’s some custom that mondstadtians have,” childe ponders aloud suddenly.  “hm – something about tapping three times, meaning ‘i love you’?”

at his notion, you become bashful, and look down towards your lap.  you know where he’s going with this, and at your reaction, the snezhnayan chuckles, unfolding his hands from atop each other to squeeze yours in demonstration.

“one, two, three.  it’s just gonna be between us, all right?”

diluc:

diluc is arguably one of the most emotionally reserved characters in all of mondstadt.  sure, he’s got a sense of dry humor and wit whenever he feels snarky enough, but when it comes to personal sentiments?  he keeps them behind lock and key, with the exception of passive aggression.

if you’re self-conscious about asking for affection, such as when you’re about to reach out to tap at his hand yet pull back at the last instant, you find him looking at you expectatntly, his notorious half-lidded gaze fixated on you.  if there’s something you want, you’ll ask for it is his mentality, since he assumes that the two of you are both comfortable enough in your relationship to do so.  and relationships are built around trust.  so why are you hesitating?

that is to say, he doesn’t stare at you until you crack.  after a few seconds, he’ll look away, and resume whatever he was doing beforehand.  if it were anyone else, he’d most likely ask them verbally what they want, since there’s no use in prolonging the time, and he’s an impatient man. 

he makes a conscious effort to be more gentle with you.  he can’t quite tell if you appreciate it though especially in these scenarios, since you always chew at your lip and refrain from looking at him afterwards.

diluc will only allude to these instances.  he’ll ask “is there something you need?” or “is something the matter?”  he has no experience with physical affection of any sort, at least since his father all those years ago.  so he’d be quite lost with your circumstance; he doesn’t know at all what you want unless you make a verbal indication as to what it is. 

one day, in the privacy of his office, he senses your fingers just near his forearm.  diluc looks over in time to see you clasp his coat rather shakily, but your hold is there nonetheless.  much like usual, he’ll peer at you with a half-lidded gaze, although this time he addresses how skittish you appear. 

“something the matter?” he’ll say as per usual, but this time he isn’t vague; he’s referring to your sudden committance to reaching out as opposed to pulling away.

“ . . . just wanted to hold you.”  your confession is a mere whisper, but your boyfriend still hears it.  the two of you sit in silence for a bit, before he turns his body and puts his hand on the side of your head, pressing gently so that you lean flush against his arm. 

you’re speechless, however the circumstance doesn’t need words anymore.  content with you hugging his arm, and now understanding your wants, diluc continues to work as you drift asleep against him.  while there’s still a ways to go, as he’s sure that this isn’t the only desire you have, it’s surely a start.

kaeya:

the astute captain that he is, kaeya can hone into your desires with relative ease.

before you can retract your hand after reaching out, he’s already grasped it in his own.  you’re caught off-guard, not expecting his agility, but his grip isn’t firm or unpleasant; it’s gentle, as if he’s caring for glass.

he lowers his face so that the two of you are eye-level.  “no need to be shy.  it’s just us.”  kaeya’s reassurance is playful at first, until your contemplative silence queues him in on the severity of your timidness.

he’s concerned: is there something serious that’s bothering you?  he’d just assumed that you wanted to hold hands, or lean on each other.  for how long it takes you to speak, he’s thinking the worst: is a coworker bothering you?  are you ill with a fever?  kaeya’s eyebrows furrow, and he immediately speaks again.  “what’s wrong, precious?  tell me, please.”

looking up at him, you realize that he has the wrong impression.  tenderly enveloping your cheek with his hands, rubbing your skin with his thumbs, you sink into the affection – but he’s got the wrong idea.  

“i-it’s fine,” you begin, and he blinks rapidly.  “just . . . wanted to, uh,” you nudge further into his hands, and squeeze his arms gently, “ . . . touch you.”

ah.  your meekness makes sense now, although considering your personality, his initial guesses probably wouldn’t have been far off.  nevertheless, kaeya indulges you, even if you both continue the circumstance in silence.  it’s evident that you’ve been holding back this request for a while, and as much as he loves to tease and would like to in this moment, he doesn’t believe now is an appropriate time.

so, kaeya continues to stroke your face, soothing away your nerves.  his other hand clasps yours in your lap, giving you the time and affection you crave.  

he finds your vulnerability endearing, but there’s guilt on his conscience: why have you been nervous to approach him about this, and why did he not pick up on it sooner?  not that he expects you to come for him for everything – kaeya just theorizes that there must be some reason as to why you appear so touch-starved, and he’s thinking the worst about such a reason.

“feeling better?”  he inquires, still cradling your face, and he pulls you into a hug.  his warmth is reassuring to you – the security that you’ve longed for.  if this is what affection feels like, you’re not sure that you’d ever want to pull away.

“yeah.”  hesitantly, you lift your face from his chest, but your arms remain around his waist.  your boyfriend grins slightly, and ruffles your hair, pushing your bangs aside so he can kiss your forehead.

“tell me about it.  we can figure this out together.” 

zhongli:

about three weeks into your relationship is when zhongli receives questions from hu tao: “hey, you and y/n don’t touch each other at all.  i know you’re ‘professional’ and stuff, but jeez – not even hand-holding?  thought it’d get more exciting at this point.”

and while he initially thought of her remarks as rude – your relationship isn’t any of her business – it did prompt him to consider her words.

specifically, she’s right: while he’s generally busy at wangsheng, he strives to make time for you whenever possible.  and in that time, never once have either of you touched each other.  he’s never minded, since he’s admittedly gone without it for so long and is used to life without it – but it’s the modern age, and isn’t it customary for liyuens to . . . ?

so he takes it upon himself to ask you over dinner.  he’s made bamboo shoot soup for you tonight, and as you sit across the table from him, finishing the dish, he speaks so candidly it nearly makes you choke on your last bite.

“would you like to hold hands in the market tomorrow?”

“what?”

zhongli makes a strange face.  he knows you heard him, so why do you also look startled, and are averting your eyes?

he repeats himself nonetheless, and while you do answer him this time, it’s by mumbling under your breath.

“ – odd question,” is how you start, and your boyfriend folds his hands underneath his face, yet doesn’t rest his chin.  “um, sure.  yeah, sure . . . ”

you most definitely do not sound sure, but it’s in a way that further perplexes him.  you look . . . thrilled now?  he can see that you’re refraining from smiling – the corners of your mouth flutter – but why?  zhongli doesn’t recall saying anything that would be good news . . .

“is something the matter?” the archon supplies instead, to which you shake your head.  your hands are in your lap.

“ah, no.  what you said just came out of no where.”  an unconcealed smile from you now, and zhongli finds himself relaxing.  if you’re certain, that’s all he cares about.

he stands up, and prepares to take your dish to the kitchen.  before though, he makes sure to bring you up to your feet, and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“may i kiss you?”  he asks, suddenly, unexpectedly.  he sees you nod, the slight pressing of your lips together, and gives them a quick peck before retreating; zhongli can still taste the slight bamboo left over.

when the two of you draw away, there’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks.  once more, you seem giddy, however this time he doesn’t have to ask why.

“i’ve never done this before.”  there’s trepidation in your voice that causes his brows to furrow slightly.  “so . . . it’s all right if we start out slow, right?”

“of course,” zhongli doesn’t hesitate to respond.  you could mean so many things, and he isn’t sure which you’re referring to: initiating physicality with him, or maybe that you’ve never had a partner before . . . ?  but he doesn't dwell on that.  “your comfort is what matters.”

in the market the next day, zhongli finds comfort in the slight tugs on his coat sleeve from your fingers, and the smile that beams on your visage.

[neo-nymph]

Mafia!Seonghwa blurb

A/N: random thought I had about sadist seonghwa that sexually tortures his trainee henchmen as an outlet for his taboo desires. just a lil blurb to share my idea, hope ya enjoy

word count: 500 words

genre: mafia!seonghwa, mxm

warning: dom!seonghwa, forced orgasm, humiliation kink, voyeurism, abuse of power, sexual torture, non-con, sadism, mxm (seonghwa playing with his trainee's genitals), etc.

mafia!swonghwa gets off on power and humiliation. he loves embarrassing people and abusing his power over them.

new henchmen were his favored victims. he loved calling out the newby recruits, making sexually charged jokes at their expense. he loved to remind them how much he hated failures, that they better not screw up unless they wanted ended up as one of the fuck toys he kept tucked away in the dungeon.

seonghwa always noticed when they popped boners during meetings from seeing photos of half naked women. it was his most cherished opportunity to make an example of someone and get a fill for his taboo powertrip. words stopped leaving his mouth and he looked over them, eyeing the tent in their trousers before trailing up to meet their eyes, unsurprised to see a bit of sweat already adorning their blushing skin. the leader moves slowly, rising from behind his desk to stalk over to the recruit until he's in reach to pull their ass into his crotch. he moves naturally to grope them violently through their pants, asking if they really think any woman would find such a pathetic cock appealing. Seonghwa’s lips are ghosting the edge of his ear, heating their nervous skin with his heavy breath, spitting insults down their necks while as he fists their balls in one hand and fixes a suffocating and painful grip on the base of his subordinates cock.

seeing them so aroused and so scared always sent blood rushing to his groin. their jaws clenched in fear, desperate hips struggling not to buck forward into their leaders veiny hands. Seonghwa is testing them and everyone knows it. He wants to see how strong their self control is. He didn't need anyone so weak, so easily manipulated by something as pathetic as a handjob on his team.

but he couldn't hide the smile on his face when a frail link was caught. it was just too much for them to handle. hwa's hard member pressed flush against their ass for them to rut back on, the stroke of their bosses fingers up and down the front of their slacks stained with pre-cum, the blazing heat coating their trembling body and the humiliation of so many elders watching their suffering until their lips were torn apart by pained, miserably loud moans. everyone could see the dark puddle spreading further across the fabric of their pants. so adorably, their knees give out, falling and clinging onto seonghwas arms as their hips twitch desperately in the air, cumming like a bitch.

weak, seonghwa whispers before stepping back, letting the failure fall to the floor and dismissing the rest of his crew. when the room is clear, he kneels over the shaking man's body on the floor, grabbing his face and forcing them to look him in the eye.

"I'll give you one more chance to prove yourself worthy. If you're too weak for this world, maybe you can you can play another role for me."

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Gwyn appreciation week-day 7

free day

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163402

gwynriel first kiss one shot

Close, she was so damn close. He needed to get a grip, she was not just some random lover who he enjoyed from time to time, this was Gwyn and they were busy.

She lay sprawled on the couch with her feet in his lap and a book in her hand. He had one in his own and together they were researching the history of narben and other powerful swords embedded with magic. Azriel’s eyes were glued to the page but he couldn’t seem to manage more than a few words before a new unwanted thought plagued his mind like a parasite he could not rid himself of. I want to kiss her.

Internally he scolded himself, Gwyn was not his nor would she ever be. He had been present on the worst day of her life, the rage he felt then was unlike the cold ice that ran beneath his skin, ever-present, but a burning fiery hatred fueled by a need he did not understand. He was a living reminder of the trauma that burdened her. Azriel could not blame her if she never wanted to be around another man again, she had been violated in a way that he would not wish on his worst enemies. She likes being around you. The whispers crept up his skin like a cool breeze, the feeling had long since lost its shock, but Azriel still felt the urge to shiver. He watched as a lone shadow darted out and entwined itself in Gwyn’s hair, the smokey blackness contrasting her metallic red hair. Gwyn put her book down, and the broad smile that bloomed on her face stole the air from his lungs. She tipped her head back, letting her pin-straight locks fall across her shoulders, and laughed. Her laugh was a contagious, lovely sound, and Azriel couldn’t help letting out a soft chuckle of his own.

“I like you when you laugh,” Gwyn announced, looking up at him.

“You always like me,” He responded with a quirked brow.

“Yeah well,” she conceded “I like you more when you’re not brooding your ass off.” He feigned mock hurt, putting his hands to his chest like he’d been stabbed. Gwyn rolled her eyes, but he could see her trying to hide her smile. “Drama queen,” she muttered, shaking her head. Not bothering to respond to the rude comment, he pulled the pillow out from underneath him and threw it at her. Gwyn’s eyes widened as it hit her smack in the face, mouth dropping in shock, and he knew immediately he was going to pay for it. That didn’t stop him from grinning at her.

“Come on berdera, better get to reading,” he winked at her, knowing she would see red.

“Okay shadowsinger,” She drawled, “Although,” her silence intentional, “I wouldn’t want you trying to pick a fight you couldn’t win.” The innocence in her tone a stark contrast to the vengeance in her teal eyes.

“Is that a threat, priestess.”

“Oh you’re big boy, I think you can figure it out.” Her smirk was wicked as she picked up the book and began to read. Shit, he wanted to kiss her even more now. Pathetic he was absolutely pathetic. Realizing it was too late to respond, Azriel picked up his own book and began to read. Alright, he thought, point Berdara.

They continued to read, tearing through the pages, a silent challenge in the air. Who would finish first? Every so often, Azriel looked up to see Gwyn immersed in her reading, her determination almost enough to make him forget he was a sitting target, almost. Her legs moved from his lap, and immediately he felt like he was missing something, their weight and warmth gone. Her gaze caught his, and they stayed in silence for a moment, taking each other in.

Finally, Gwyn broke “What?” She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Point az.

“You’re cute when you read” Azriel wished he could say he didn’t enjoy the blush that flooded Gwyn’s cheeks but he absolutely delighted in it. Point az.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Her nose scrunching.

“Oh, I disagree, it’s worked so far.”

“yeah,” Gwyn replied with an amused look. “On who.”

“Well, we both know you’re in love with me so I would assume you.” Fuck, why did he say that? Azriel’s heart was a drum in his chest, his palms began to sweat. This damn girl, 500 years, and this is the girl that has him tripping over his words. It felt like minutes before she answered again even if it had only been seconds.

“Yes, I’m just so damn in love with you.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping in her voice, he could see the way she rolled her eyes, smiling, and yet he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched, or the heat he felt on his neck. “You know I love researching long-lost magical swords as much as the next person,” She put her book down and stretched her arms out behind her. “But I’m getting kind of tire-.” A yawn cut Gwyn off proving her point.

“Well we can’t have that,” He stood up, an idea taking root. He held out a hand to her. With a curious look, she slipped her hand into his, an electric shock ran through them where skin met skin. He shivered, the moment felt so much more intimate than it should have been, an easiness between them. Yet Azriel felt only heat as their gazes met. Gwyn bit her lip.

“Are we going somewhere,” She whispered, not daring to look away.

“I always find that a little adventure is a perfect way to wake yourself up,” forcing himself to keep his voice steady. Their hands still locked together. Gwyn took a step closer, so they were almost touching. He swallowed as her eyes burned into his own. Slowly, ever so slowly he brought his hand to her cheek, and with a whisper of a touch, he tilted her head and brushed away a small piece of dirt. She shuddered and leaned in. Both of their breathing heavy, he should move, this was wrong. But then why did it feel so right? His thoughts vanished, as her eyes lowered to his lips. A quick glance, there and then gone. Everything else forgotten except the feel of her.

At that moment a small thud caused both of them to flinch. Gwyn looked away and Az followed her gaze to the book that had fallen. He dropped his hand and immediately wished he hadn’t. With the noise came a wave washing over them, cooling the heat. Good, he thought, good now he can’t do something he would regret. Azriel just wished he believed himself. Gwyn turned back to him, but her eyes would not meet his. Dammit, he fucking made her uncomfortable. Shit shit shit. His shadows began to whisper, don’t freak out just talk to her. Just talk to her, just talk to her. He could do that, just talk to her. He plastered a teasing grin to his face, “well If I know Gwyneth Berdera, and I do, she is not one to pass up an adventure so, shall we?”

She gave him an awkward smile. He could see the relief in the way her features relaxed, but from what, he wasn’t exactly sure. She took a breath, regaining her composure. “Oh you know I love a good time, but I tend to like to know where I’m going.” Thank the cauldron, Azriel thought, right back into their banter. He didn’t think he could live with himself if she never spoke to him again, and the thought was terrifying.

“It’s a surprise.” Her brows rose as if to say really? “Do you trust me?” the words were out before he realized what he was saying, he wished he could take them back. He desperately needed to know the answer. And shit he still wanted to kiss her.

Without hesitation, Gwyn said “Yes,” Something broke in Azriel, and something else, without meaning to, began to mend.

“Good, then trust that you will love it.”

Gwyn thought it over before deciding “well it must be better than reading about ancient swords.”

“Oh, it will be.” He started to walk towards the door and she followed him, Azriel made sure to keep at least a foot away, but he couldn’t shake the pull, begging him to get closer. Once they were outside, he turned to her and held out his arms.

“So this is a flying trip?”

“I mean unless you would like to winnow, but this is typically my way of transportation.” She rolled her eyes at him but didn’t respond as she wrapped her hands around his neck and he picked her up. So together they flew into the night.

About half an hour later they had reached their destination. Outside of Velaris, but still within the night court, Azriel had brought them to one of the tallest towers he’d ever seen. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, hidden by lush greenery, framed by mountains and lakes. He had found it a few centuries ago and never shared the information with any of his friends. He loved them dearly, but this always felt like a spot he could go if he needed to leave, to be alone. It also helped that the view was beautiful. But he was looking at Gwyn and saw the exact moment she realized where they were, her eyes lit up, and he could see the challenge in her grasp, one she couldn’t stop until she bested it. “Is this-” Her voice could barely contain her excitement and he loved that he could give her that. He knew in his gut there was no limit to what he would do to make her smile.

“It is,” he confirmed. The library was a myth, a legend said to rival the ones in the day court. Of course, it was more ruins now, but still a sight to behold. “And while I know that you are freaking out, and I am happy to take you back so you can explore the inside, we are here for the roof.” Gwyn gave him a questioning glance but he just winked and shot up the length of the tower to the top. She gave a yelp of surprise, and then a cry of excitement.

Azriel set them down on the roof and looked around. Every time he came back, the memory could not ever compare to the real thing. But he was watching Gwyn as she took it all in. The beauty of it rivaled only by the female in front of him. The land was vast. “Look up,” he said softly, and then she saw the true view. Somehow the stars seemed to hang lower in the sky, they were bigger and brighter. The moon, so close it appeared as if you could reach out to touch it. Colors of purple, blue, and green swirling in an array that stole the breath with no intention of ever giving it back. Azriel didn’t know why you could only see it from the tower but he didn’t care. Gwyn took everything in with a greedy desire like it would disappear if she didn’t. The irony was not lost on him, she looked at the open world the way he knew he looked at her.

Gwyn’s metallic hair lit up against the moon as if it was on fire. “It’s beautiful” Yeah she was. “No, that does not nearly begin to describe it,” she tried to find the words and he waited patiently. “There is this entire world that I have not seen, that I have not experienced. And every little taste I get of it makes me greedy for more, and I am terrified,” she paused, “I am terrified that my past and my own fear will prevent me from seeing everything. I want it all but I do not know if I am brave enough to take the next step”

They stood side by side, both clutching the railing. He gently grabbed her hand and stroked his thumb over their shared tattoo before he spoke.”no challenge has ever been too great for you, because where others give up Gwyneth Berdera, with her stubborn determination has never known when stop.” and that’s what I love about you, he wanted to add, but instead he said “And whether it be tomorrow, a few months, or centuries when you are ready, I will make sure you experience every joy this world has to offer.”

They stood in silence for a couple of moments before she gave him a small smile. “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me here?” why did he bring her here? You know why his shadows answered.

“Because,” He took a deep breath, “Because this place has always been a sanctuary for me, the only place I could go where my head would quiet, where the voices would stop for not even they could mar the beauty of this place.” He swallowed. “I was in love, or what I thought was love, with a female for 500 years, and not even she gave me the ease that being here provided. Not once did I wish to share this place with anyone, the one thing that was mine and only mine.” He turned to Gwyn, “that is until I met you and I didn’t understand it, why being near you made me feel more peace then I have ever felt in 5 centuries. Why the cold icy rage that has always been there only began to thaw in your presence.” He let out a little laugh, “and because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you smile.” Gwyn flashed him her broad smile. “That’s the one.” He murmured.

She took a step closer, bridging the gap between them. The view forgotten, there was only Gwyn and Azriel, two souls finding each other in the midst of darkness. He took a step too, meeting her halfway, so close he could feel her breath. Gwyn looked up at him, her gaze full of hope and something else he couldn’t detect. They took each other in, devouring the sight of one another. One moment, one step could change everything.

Moments passed, their breathing heavy before Gwyn said “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because,” he whispered, “I can’t bear the thought of losing you-” and the look she gave him as if he was the dumbest person in the world.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” and she took that final step, braved the distance, and pulled his face towards her. Their lips met in a blaze, a kiss that should have been soft and sweet, instead an explosion of heat and passion. Fireworks formed everywhere they touched, her hands lost in his hair, and his own gripped around her waist. She was everything he dreamed and more, a kiss unlike one he’s ever known. Azriel softly bit her lip and the sound she made was enough to make him want to rip apart the world to hear it again. Together, they were unbreakable, a rightness in the air that could not be imagined. Her lips claimed his, with a ferocity of need. Electricity thundered beneath his skin, her kiss igniting something in him he never knew was there. She was his, and he was hers. Mine.

Gwyn finally took a step back, “wow” she whispered and he knew she felt it too. Her skin was flush with a subtle glow and the realization hit him. The thought engraved itself in his brain and heart and soul, and he never knew how he hadn’t seen it before. Mate.

may or may not be continued where gwyn gets revenge

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Play Pretend (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: From the Love Tropes category: “Blackmail”

Word Count: 1596

Warnings: Modern!AU, angst, Ivar being a dick, nothing else I can think of.

A/N: This ain’t the fluffiest piece, it’s not fluffy at all, but hey, it’s marginally less angsty than the last one, that I can promise you.

To be honest, idk what this is, and I am not certain it is any good. But I’ve been dealing with one hell of a writer’s block lately, and I really needed to just write what came to mind. Hope you enjoy!

You eye the name flashing on your phone screen, and though a part of you really doesn’t want to answer, you still do.

“I would have thought you caught on that I really didn’t want to talk after the fourth day. This is bordering on stalking, you know.”

“Is it stalking if you gave me your number?” Ivar retorts without missing a beat, and you sigh.

“I assume you have a reason to call me. Unless missing the sound of my voice became too much to bear.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Is it flattery if it is true?” You taunt back, only to then chastise yourself for falling into familiar patterns.

“I heard your mother’s firm is taking over Ragnar’s newest countersuit.” Ivar starts, choosing to ignore your words.

“Ah, you just happened to hear that?”

“I might have asked,” He concedes, before taking a breath and continuing, “You know I’m going to England with him, right? His last meeting with Ecbert before he retires,” You offer only a hum in response, but something like dread and worry churns at your stomach. It is never a good sign when Ivar sounds so damn pleased with himself. “My father listens to me, trusts my advice.”

“If you’re going where I think you are…”

He interrupts you, words cutting and cold, “I could have your mother’s firm dropped before she even gets to sign anything.”

“I would say something about how blackmail isn’t the way to mend things with your ex, but…”

“You know better.” He tells you, the dry tone making the beginning of a smile pull at your lips, lips that you furrow when you notice the evidence of your foolishness.

____

A very lengthy argument and a plane ride after, you’re back in Kattegat, enough clothes for a week and a scowl on your brow that you think might be stuck there from now on.

Six months ago your mother started insisting that, now that you had gotten engaged to ‘one of the Lothbroks’, you should consider starting to work more closely with her; five months ago you freaked out at the mere idea of it and decided to do the exact opposite and take an internship opportunity in a non-profit in Nepal; four months ago Ivar said that if you were running away and leaving that you might as well break it off.

In none of those four months he considered letting his family know that long distance didn’t work -not that he even tried- and that you had broken up.

So now you are set for a week in the Lothbrok’s home for Björn’s wedding, pretending you never broke up with Ivar with the threat of your mother losing her contract looming over your head.

Which makes all of this fucking fantastic.

“You should have told them,” You say for what feels like the thousandth time, eyeing his profile carefully. “You should have told her.”

“You’re not here to tell me how to handle my family.” Ivar points out gruffly through gritted teeth.

“No, I’m here to pretend we haven’t broken up four months ago,” You scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation, turning to look back out the window. “Because that is a very healthy thing to do.”

“Healthier than moving to the ass-end of nowhere because someone suggested the possibility of you committing to something for once in your life.”

“I commit!” You protest immediately, frowning at his doubtful glare, “I committed to you!”

“You left me.” Ivar accuses without missing a beat, rage flaring and eyes set intently on you. Your mouth falls open at the fucking audacity of this man.

“No, don’t turn this on me. You-…” You bite back the words with a groan of frustration, running your hands through your hair before sighing, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Resting back against the seat and wondering not for the first time how much these people pay their drivers to not blurt out every little secret that they overhear, you close your eyes and focus on the dull thrum of the car speeding through the highway.

Most of all you dread seeing Aslaug, if you are honest. The woman always did have a keen eye to notice everything about everyone, or at least the confidence to pretend she did. If you’re honest, she…intimidates you.

You tell yourself she has no idea you and Ivar broke up, which would give her no reason to hate you. She was always warm towards you since Ivar first introduced you as his girlfriend. Her eyes were even glistening with pride and happiness when you walked in with a ring on your finger.

You jump in your seat, turning frantic eyes to the man that sits next to you.

“Oh, Gods, the ring! Y-Your mother’s ring, I d-…”

Your words are cut short and left choked in a dying gasp with only a movement of Ivar’s hand, that now extends between you with the engagement ring in the palm of his hand.

He doesn’t even look your way when he offers it, but when you reach cautious fingers to grab it, you could swear his hand trembles slightly.

Sliding it back over your finger feels strange, and for a moment it feels so warm it burns.  You toy with the ring idly, and cannot keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

“You kept it.”

“Of course I did, it’s my Ma’s.”

Of course, how stupid of you. You curse the useless hope that unbidden sneaked up on you.

You decided to leave, you remind yourself. Hell, you are considering agreeing on making the original six months of your internship last a year instead.

Granted, agreeing to making it a year may be more out of fear of coming back home than of truly wanting to stay there. But still, you shouldn’t be holding out hope that there’s something left, or that there might be something to come back to Kattegat for.

“R-Right.” You nod for emphasis, but it is to conceal the way you have to swallow hard to keep your composure.

After a while of silence, either because your curiosity always got the better of you or because you need to make sense of this insane ruse you are about to partake in, you ask,

“Why are you doing this, Ivar?”

“Hm? Doing what?” He asks, at your stern glare looking back out the window and shrugging one shoulder, “I didn’t want to tell them.”

“You’ll have to, eventually.”

“Not now,” He states, a little harsher, making you realize you’ve struck a nerve. His eyes find yours for a moment before he returns his gaze to the road that passes you by, and the manor that approaches quite quickly. “But now…now Björn is getting married and…that should have been us, you know.”

“W-What?”

“The wedding, the…the everything,” He grits his teeth, and his hand tightens into a fist before it loosens, the gesture familiar only now he lacks the crutch at his side to grip tightly in anger. Your eyes trace his profile intently, and you hold your breath waiting for him to talk. Ivar takes a breath, shoulders rising and falling slowly, “I should have married you.”

“So what? So you could make me stay in Kattegat?” You ask, maybe a bit more bitingly than you should.

“You loved me,” He states, proud even he makes it sound like an accusation, “You told me no one made you feel like I did, that you would never love someone like you loved me. Was that a lie, hm?”

All the answer you can offer is a glare and words kept stubbornly at the tip of your tongue. It is cruel to throw your words back at you, but you wouldn’t put it past him, since all of this is a cruel and sick game.

He is the one that broke up with you, he is the one that told you to mail him the ring back, he is the one that made things what they are; and yet he uses power and blackmail to get you to play a part. All the while refusing to admit he is the reason why you have to pretend in the first place.

But you are not deluded enough to tell yourself this is unlike Ivar. He is as ruthless as his father, maybe even more so, and he has the single-minded focus that Ragnar lacks. You aren’t sure if that last thing is a positive or a negative.

The car parks at the entrance of the lavish home you know by heart now, and Ivar takes a deep breath, looking at you one last time.

His words before he leaves the car leave you cold and stunned for a few moments,

“You’ll remember how good it was, you’ll see. I’ll make you forget all about leaving me.”

Scrambling to get out, you walk around the car to stand at his side, looking up at him with wide eyes, “So they know? They know a-and you made me come here to make me be with you again?”

Ivar frowns, as if you are the one that’s not making any sense.

“They don’t know,” He insists, the hand not on the crutch grasping at your left one, fingers running over the ring with appalling familiarity. You are left to wonder how much of this game of play pretend he is willing to make himself believe as true when he offers a smile that feels like home and says, “I don’t lie to you, you know that.”

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay! I’ll be trying to post two or three celebration thingies three days a week from now on, so that’s it for today but I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow!

Also, some things in the masterlist may be changed (Echoes, for example, was supposed to be a Hvitserk one), so I might change the “Fake Relationship” for Ivar and write a sequel to this.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless​  @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla​ @fae-sedai​ @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​ @sagyunaro​    

[writingblock101]

Test Day (Jason Todd x Reader)

This means I have officially written a quarantine fic. What a weird time to be alive. I also hit 500 followers so thank you for that! 

Request for anon: Fluff #7 “Oh, would you look at that? There’s nowhere to sit besides my lap.” with Jason

Word Count: 1,900

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish

When your alarm went off, you wanted nothing more than to turn it off and curl up against Jason’s warm chest and pretend you didn’t hear anything. But instead, you had to be a diligent student who actually studies so you quickly shut off your alarm and try to creep out of bed, but Jason already heard your alarm go off. 

“No,” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

You sigh, leaning back against Jason for a moment, relaxing in his hold. 

“I need to study,” You tell him. 

“Five more minutes,” He mumbles into your neck. “It’s too early to study.” 

“Any time before 11:30 is too early for you,” You remind him. “My test is today, I’ve got to cram.” 

Jason grumbles, tightening his arms around your waist. 

“Jase, come on,” You start trying to uselessly wiggle out of his grip. “I’ve been procrastinating this whole week.” 

He sighs but releases his arms. You climb out of bed, but turn and pull the blankets over Jason’s chest again and kiss his head. 

“Go back to sleep,” You tell him. 

He waves you off. 

“Yeah, go study for your test,” He grumbles. 

You can’t help but giggle at his grumpiness but quietly creep out of the room and brew a cup of coffee. Once setting yourself up at your kitchen counter, you begin the long haul of learning as much organic chemistry as possible. While you weren’t completely helpless, the quarantine forced your classes online and completely destroyed your motivation. You’d been lightly studying throughout the week, but today was grind day. 

An hour later, Jason emerges from your bedroom, still looking sleepy and a little grumpy.

“Nice sweatshirt,” He comments, pressing a kiss to the side of your head then pours himself a cup of coffee. 

You grin, tugging on the strings of Jason’s hoodie that you’re currently wearing. It’s warm, big, and smells like Jason. Honestly, at this point, it’s providing more emotional support than physical comfort. 

“I’m surprised you’re up,” You comment, glancing at the clock over your oven which reads: 8:09 AM. 

Normally, you and Jason didn’t even acknowledge the outside world until after 10 o’clock unless absolutely necessary. 

“I don’t like sleeping in an empty bed,” He admits to his coffee. “I don’t sleep as well.” 

Your heart flutters at the comment, but you ruin the moment when you look back at the practice test open on your screen. Oh, you’re still here. You squint your eyes at the old tests as if it deeply offended you (which is has by existing, thank you very much). 

“Did you eat breakfast?” Jason asks. 

“Not yet.” 

Jason nods then opens the fridge and begins making eggs while you keep cracking away at old tests. He wordlessly sets a plate of food down next to you, kisses the top of your head, then sits on the couch to quietly watch TV and enjoy his breakfast. 

A few hours pass as you keep doing practice problems and drawing figures and formulas on your little whiteboard. You’re starting to feel better about the test, but you’re still unsure. Knowing your professor, he’ll ask a question that you have all the information to solve, but no idea how to do it. Your stomach grumbles and you decide you should probably eat lunch. 

When you get stressed or “in the zone”, your brain tends to shut off your appetite. You’d never noticed it until you started living with Jason and he pointed it out after watching you study for a final. Luckily, he’s helped you become more aware of it. 

Speaking of Jason, he disappeared back to the bedroom about an hour ago, probably to read a book or do research for his next mission with the Outlaws. As a thank you for making breakfast, you fix him a sandwich along with your own and walk it back to the bedroom. 

You find him on the floor, one of his dresser drawers open, surrounded by shirts. He brightens when he sees you walk in with food. 

“How’s studying going?” He greets. 

You shrug, handing him his plate. 

“It’s going. I’m starting to feel better about it, but there’s still a lot to go. What are you doing?” 

“Cleaning out some stuff,” Jason looks at his various piles. “I never really built my wardrobe back up after I came back, so a lot of this stuff doesn’t fit me.” 

“Are you going to order some new stuff online?” 

Jason frowns. 

“Maybe? I don’t like buying clothes online.” 

“You don’t like buying clothes period,” You correct with a smile. 

“After all this is over,” Jason vaguely gestures to the air. “I’ll be more than willing to go clothes shopping for at least the first week when quarantine ends, so I’ve gotta make it count.” 

You chuckle. 

“We’ll go on a shopping spree,” You promise. “Well, I gotta keep studying--” 

“Wait, why don’t you eat lunch with me?” Jason asks. “Take a break?” 

“This is me taking a break,” You gesture to him. “I gotta keep going.” 

“Come on, babe, you’ve been studying since 7 this morning. You can afford to stop and eat lunch.” 

“The longer I wait to get back to it, the harder it’s going to be to start,” You shrug. “Sorry, Jase.” 

He frowns, watching you leave the room to keep studying. 

Two hours later, you’re still going strong-- strong as in you’re still looking at the material, but you keep getting the same style question wrong and you can’t figure out why. 

“Okay, an amino has one nitrogen, so you add one, but an amide has one site of unsaturation so you subtract two which then makes it 2n+1,” You scan the possible formulas. “None of these answers have odd numbers,” You groan then flip through your notes, knowing you’re not going to find the answer because you’ve been looking for it for the past fifteen minutes and still found nothing. 

Jason emerges from the bedroom again. 

“Hey, babe, how’s it going?” He asks, getting something to drink out of the fridge. 

“I can’t figure out how to do these stupid problems,” You groan. “I could do them on the last test, but now I can’t do them with amino or amide groups because Dr. Meades never told us the corrected formula.” 

Jason frowns, and rounds the counter, looking at the various scribbles and cross-outs on your whiteboard and open notebook. 

“Maybe you should take a break,” He suggests, rubbing your back. “You’ve been going at it now,” Jason pauses to look at the clock. “For roughly seven hours.” 

“But my test is in three hours. I’ve gotten figure out how to do these problems because there’s always five of them on the test and if I mess up one, I’m going to mess up two,” Your jaw tightens as you feel the burn of tears building in your eyes. 

Oh, hell no. Organic chemistry is NOT going to make me cry. While you care about your studies, it’s not enough to make you cry. You take a deep breath, blinking a few times to force back the tears of frustration. 

“Some fresh eyes might help. Just take a few minutes to shut your brain off,” Jason tries to urge you but you brush him off. 

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m going to see if I can find some example problems,” You start typing on your laptop again, scrounging old tests. 

Jason frowns but leaves you to work. 

Two hours later, you get up to go to the bathroom. You stare at the blue walls of your bathroom feeling drained and exhausted. You hate organic chemistry and you hate online classes. Why are you even taking this class?! It’s stupid! 

After washing your hands, you glance at the clock on Jason’s nightstand-- one hour until you take your test. Sighing heavily, you walk back out to the kitchen to continue studying, only to find every seat at the kitchen counter and small dining table have been taken by a varying amount of objects including but not limited to: a tall stack of folded laundry, a pile of what you were guessing to be Jason’s shirt rejects, a stack of plates from the cupboard, and Jason’s ammunition bag that he takes on missions. 

You stare at the chairs then glance over at Jason only to notice he stacked your textbooks and DVD collection on the loveseat while he is pointedly sprawled across the other couch. He casually reads his book, pretending to not notice you. 

“Hey, Jason?” You ask. 

He hums in response. 

“What is this?” 

Jason looks around the room then sets his book down, placing a hand on his cheek in mock surprise. 

“Oh, would you look at that? There’s nowhere to sit besides my lap.” 

He opens his arms invitingly and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Jason--” You start to say, not moving toward him, despite the tempting offer. 

“No,” He cuts you off. “You have been studying all day. You need to take a break and you’re going to take it now.” 

“My test is in an hour.” 

“Honestly, if you don’t know it by now, you’re not going to know it for the test,” Jason tells you bluntly. “You’re going to be fine. Please, just take a break,” He looks at you pleadingly. 

You glance back toward your laptop which you notice Jason had shut then sigh and walk over to Jason, letting him pull you down onto the couch with him. You land between his legs with his arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“You’re going to do great,” He promises. 

You snort. 

“It’s organic chemistry, “great” does not exist in its vocabulary.” 

“Shut up, it’s going to be great.” 

“I got a 66 on the last test,” You remind him. 

Jason pauses for a moment. 

“You’re going to pass,” He fixes, making you laugh. 

“There we go. That’s the realistic prediction I need to hear,” You grin, tucking your chin under his head. “I just want the semester to be over.” 

“Yeah, I know doll,” He kisses the top of your head. “But you can’t keep trying to do your classes like this.” 

“Yeah, I know,” You sigh, playing with his fingers. 

You two stay like that until it’s time for you to log on and take your test. And what do you know? Jason was right, you did pass. 

“Told you,” Jason grins, kissing your cheek as he looks over your shoulder at the screen. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You roll your eyes, closing your laptop. 

“I’m just saying that you should listen to me more,” He points out. 

“Oh really?” 

“Uh-huh, cause clearly, I’m a genius.” 

“A genius you say?” You turn your chair so you’re facing Jason. 

“Yep,” He grins, stepping between your legs while your arms go around his neck. “I could put Tim out of business.” 

“I’m sure,” You roll your eyes. “You’re very humble about it too.” 

“Oh of course,” Jason flips his hair dramatically. “Not only am I a genius, but I’m also smoking hot.” 

You start laughing, shaking your head. 

“You’re a dork,” You grin, kissing Jason. 

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Damn right,” You grin. 

The quarantine sucks, but at least you have a good company. 

I had a test on Tuesday, can y’all tell? (I did pass) 

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 5

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 5 “Grief of Want” out now!

AO3 Link. 

Killua held his phone close to his chest, face flushed almost painfully.

GON: I appreciate you too.

That message had knocked the wind out of the young boy, his heart was racing. It had taken him so much energy to text Gon that he appreciated him, had multiple texts written and deleted that ended in ‘I’m glad you’re my friend’ because in the end he still couldn’t bring himself to say that word, but this had been close enough.

The grip around his phone tightened. The feeling was mutual, mutual appreciation, mutual support, and now Killua got to keep its existence close to his heart and locked away there.

Somewhere in the mansion, his mother harshly ordered some butlers to prepare tea and snacks. He locked his door again, not willing to be bribed outside of his room with bland biscuits and bitter tea.

It wouldn’t hurt to look up prices for flights, he thought to himself.

Did Milluki ever change his credit card code?

.

.

.

Illumi shifted in his chair as recording for Hisoka’s new video started. Unlike his colleague next to him, who blossomed under the attention of a camera lens, Illumi never knew how to move his body, what to do with his face. After appearing for the first time in a collab with the other, he had been told through the comments that he looks like a mannequin if he didn’t move, and then had been told that that was most likely an insult.

Hisoka went over his regular introductions, explaining the fashion week, how he was going to fashion his make up to match the suit he was wearing-

“…designed by my good colleague, Illumi Zoldyck!” the artist made some flowery hand gestures towards Illumis person.

“Ah, thank you for having me.” The Zoldyck bowed his head a little, before returning to his straight posture.

Hisoka wore a professional smile on his lips, that seemed so inherently different from the masks that Illumi was usually surrounded by. He didn’t hide that glint in his golden eyes, that gave away how easily he’d launch at the throats of his competition at the first show of weakness. Illumi wondered if that glint was directed at him when he wasn’t looking, if the company he’s started to warm up to was secretly waiting for him to do just that, only to immediately slaughter him.

“Now I understand you’re going to upload a process video of this beautiful piece on your channel, but why not give my viewers a little insight into your inspiration for it?”

Oh.

The slaughter had come quicker than expected. He decided he did not like the rushing fear and anxiety. He didn’t like the prying, golden eyes fixated on only him, as if he knew.

As if Hisoka knew that Illumi designed the suit that last new years eve, huddled away in his room because everyone was too loud and too much, and it didn’t really matter if he was there or not. It was cold, and he felt indifferent to a new year starting, convinced it was going to be the same as the last; Run errands for the company, watch Killua turn into the neatly moulded heir to the fortune that he had been chosen to be, get all his designs rejected because he should just finally drop that hobby of his. And it would have been a miserable and yet indifferent night like any other, if at exactly 12 a.m. he wouldn’t have gotten the single text:

“Hisoka M.: Happy New Year, darling Illumi ❤ Lets work hard together this year as well, as if you’d ever get rid of me~ “

Illumi wanted to blame it on being cold, or that his senses were confused by all the lights and sounds. But it felt nice to be thought of, and it felt nice to be encouraged. He wanted to return this unfamiliar kindness; in the only way he knew how, not with words but with the only thing he deemed himself good at.

He designed a suit for Hisoka, and for Hisoka only. Moulded to his features, personality, and likes. Obviously, he had succeeded, seeing his work on his muse.

But he could never tell Hisoka all of that, and he could never tell it to his millions of followers.

So, instead he simply said "I had the idea for a denim suit in this sort of cut after being inspired by western movies. I wanted to bring the concept closer to our modern age with the fine white, and the colourful card-suits as an accent to poker games as a typical western movie activity."

He looked to Hisoka for approval, who simply smiled and clapped his hands together.

"Right, how fun! Maybe we should go horseback riding together after this, I know a couple of cowboy movies to re-enact~."

Before the Zoldyck could reply with an appropriate reaction -disgust, he thought - Hisoka smoothly transitioned to the next part of the video, explaining what make up look he had in mind, what brands he was going to use, and hissing to his future editing-self to cut out the part where he called his sponsor a "fucking cheapskate".

The artist knew what he was doing, how to best keep his viewers engaged, and how to host a blank-slate guest such as Illumi. On their first collaboration, conversation had been kept to a minimum, but slowly they had found a rhythm to work in, a question and answer to keep air in motion.

"You don't use a lot of makeup, right, Illumi?" Hisoka was almost done applying a powdered foundation, that seemed mixed just to fit his skin.

"Most days I just apply a light moisturizer before I go to bed."

“I don’t doubt that, you’ve got impeccable skin.”

Illumi hesitated at Hisokas purr, “…Thank you.”

The other giggled devilishly, in the way that the designer knew never meant any good. “So, since you don’t use make up, you’re probably helpless when it comes to applying it.”

“I may not have years of experience, but I believe I’d be able to apply it adequately and-“ Before he could finish his sentence, the other man presented him with a lipstick. “Then would you do the honours of applying my lipstick for me? Unless you’re doubting your abilities suddenly.”

Of course, he’d go for a childish challenge like this, Illumi thought while he mustered the rich red colour of the lipstick, perfectly matched to the red values of the suit. He still had the option to refuse, to cut this out in final editing, to continue being a still doll that would occasionally speak. But instead, he grabbed Hisoka’s chin with a slight uptilt. “Open your mouth a little.” “Oh, Illumi, on the first date alrea-“Illumi pressed the tips of his nails into the others cheeks, which resulted in an excited, yet obedient Hisoka.

The colour came easily and evenly onto his lips as Illumi carefully drew across the curvature, the heat of the artists’ skin seeping into his own. Up close as he was, he could notice all the details in the others face. No scars, evenly tanned, a hint of smile lines around his golden eyes. Illumi thought that he was objectively attractive, and there was nothing wrong with being able to admit that another man had symmetric facial features that were appealing to the eyes. “Handsome face, rotten personality, someday he will make a lovely girl absolutely miserable.” is what Kikyo Zoldyck had initially said after she had watched their first collaboration together. “Illumi? Are you painting the mona lisa on me?” Hisoka had slightly retracted out of the others grip, and he smiled as if he knew what he was thinking. Illumi withdrew his hand, straightened his back, and averted his eyes. “I was merely admiring the quality of this lipstick. What was it?”  

Distraction via brand pushing, very effective against Hisoka, who immediately snapped back towards the camera, presenting the makeup closer. “Of course! It’s the new Gucci line of matte lipsticks, this is number 500, Odalie Red, I am head over heels for this beauty!”

.

.

.

.

The rest of the filming process went over relatively smoothly, safe for when Hisoka sneezed so loud that Illumi visibly startled, and when Illumi had to scold Hisoka about wrinkling the suit.

Click. Hisoka turned the camera off, and Illumi laid his head on the table. Filming exhausted him, he didn’t like to maintain his public persona for that long, even though he had been bred to be able to do so. Even though he was no longer the heir. Even though he was the oldest and most capable.

A pleasant coolness took him out of whatever dangerous train of thought he was about to board, and he looked up to see Hisoka offering a bottle of sparkling water. “Good work today~”

His fingers wrapped around the cool glass bottle. “Thank you, you too. I’m pleasantly surprised, you planned out an actual look for today.”

The makeup artist settled back in his chair with a light laugh. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, after you spoil me so well~. I look like I could walk the fashion show myself.”

“You do look very handsome.” Illumi took a sip of his water before he realized what he had said.

Hisoka stared at him, mouth agape.

“It’s probably just the suit complimenting your features-”

Silence.

“I mean, anyone looks handsome if you plaster them with tons of makeup like that-”

Blink, blink.

“And even if you were to look handsome, that doesn’t fix your horrid core-”

Before he could think of any more explanations and excuses for what he said, Illumi was pulled into a hug, his head tucked firmly under Hisoka’s chin, arms wrapped around him. “You’re being an absolute dear today, my dear Illumi~ You may look at me like you want to rip off my head, but I can tell you still are happy to visit!”

And naturally he wanted to protest, wanted to hurl insults at him, and regain his personal space. But just for a second, he didn’t want to struggle. He just wanted to take in the warmth that was enveloping him, smell the natural sweetness lingering in the air, and embrace human contact as anyone with a normal upbringing would.

One.

His hand shot up to grip around Hisoka’s throat. “Do you want to live to see tonight’s show, or are you going to keep suffocating me?”

Immediately Hisoka held his arms up, and the warmth was gone. Illumi patted down his shirt, straightened his collar, and checked his hair in the mirror. It was almost time to leave, if he wanted to be in time to prepare the models and do last minute adjustments.

“Unfortunately, I’ll only live to see the livestream from the comfort of my home.”

“Oh?”

Hisoka started wiping the makeup off his face, a new box of makeup remover being ripped open. “The model I was assigned to for tonight ended up dropping the contract last minute, meaning that my ticket is only effective starting night two.”

“Oh, I see.” Illumi stood up and mustered himself again, checking for any flaws. Somehow, he felt disappointed. “Well, I have to leave anyways, I still need to check the fit of everything.” He had to go and check the fit of the collection he was premiering and Hisoka will not be able to see it, and he was disappointed.

“I will pick you up before the second night then, so you don’t have to show up in a cheap taxi again-“He reached out for his bag to swiftly leave through the door, but Hisoka grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into another tight hug.

“I thought you wanted to live to see the show.”

“And I will, and I’ll be there on time to see your premiere, that’s a promise~” The taller man pressed a quick kiss on top of his head, still bearing a sly grin as Illumi ripped himself free once again.

“Don’t do anything stupid, especially not while you’re associating with me.” A pointed finger, and a death stare were the last things Illumi presented to Hisoka as he rushed through the door. He only heard a muffled “But you know me~!” while he descended the stairs.

Subconsciously he ran his fingers over where Hisoka’s lips touched his head.

.

.

.

.

Preparations were quickly dealt with. Illumis overly neat and controlled way of working had paid off. No further adjustments to clothes had to be made, all models were prepared and let themselves be pushed and pulled as needed. He scanned the crowd behind the curtains, as his models started to line up. In the front row, he spotted one of his mothers’ commissioned writers, a young plain girl, short black hair, and framed glasses, reading over her notes.

He knew she wasn’t going to take notes during his premiere, because she didn’t get paid for that. Because his parents have already told him that his designs will not make it into the magazine. It was only a hobby after all. The single distraction he was allowed to have from his duties for the company. They didn’t have the need to show off his little hobby in the magazine, like a crayon drawing on the fridge.

The music started, the curtains opened, and Illumi stepped to the side of the stage. The beat of the music mixed with the hard beating of his heart in his chest. Anxiously he scanned the crowd for reactions, though camera flashes blinded him quicker than he could look. It was a short premiere, sandwiched between two bigger brands showcasing new seasons. The last 3 models walked down the catwalk, Illumis eyes following them closely.

But at the end of the stage, his eyes wandered deep into the crowd. And a pink flash at the very end drew his attention.

It unmistakably was Hisoka, hair let down, wearing thick sunglasses and a plain black suit, lips curled into a smile, leaned lazily against the wall.

He came.

How the hell did he come in here without a ticket.

He had no ticket, but he came, and he saw.

And as fast as he appeared, he was gone, disappearing behind someone else’s figure as the last model left the stage.

He forced himself to look away, thanked the models for their work, and left the backstage area in favour for the VIP lounge, finally taking out his phone.

One new message.

“Hisoka M.: It was breath-taking, caro mio ♥”

“Illumi: Don’t get caught, Idiot.”

Someone handed him a glass of champagne and asked questions about the family magazine.

“Illumi: Let me pick you up tomorrow for the event. You’re the least despicable person here.”

[ariaadagio]

Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs (Part 6)

Hello, all!  It seems like it’s about that time again to continue my fic rec series!  I haven’t had a ton of time to read since the S4 finale because I had a pretty hellacious summer, after which I’ve been so focused on writing.  Hence why this has taken so long.  

DISCLAIMER: These recs are organized by author, and the order is not meant to imply an order of preference.  All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted.  If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know.  Lastly, this is just a list of things I’ve read that I really enjoyed, and I want to spread the love.  That’s it.  Period.  It’s not politics, and I have no ulterior motives, okay?  

NOTE: You can find my previous five rec posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 3), here (part 4), and here (part 5).

And, so, without further ado!

The Devil Goes to Shul by @arlome.  Deckerstar.  7k words.  Post-S4.  In which Lucifer meets a Rabbi.  This is such an interesting commentary on the differences between the various Abramahamic religions’ perceptions of the Devil.  Rabbi Schulman is a well-drawn, fascinating, fantastic character.  A fic that’s great food for thought, with a dash of good humor, and a little smut thrown in for good measure.

Of Honey, Sulphur, & Bone by @aryanightshade.  Deckerstar.  35k words.  Post-S3.  In which the end of 3x24 goes a little differently.  Cain captures both Lucifer & Chloe and takes them prisoner, absconding with them to his bunker in the desert.  This fic has some graphic blood and gore scenes, so be wary if that’s a trigger for you, but the revelation; Chloe’s dueling panic, doubt, and empathy; the beautiful hurt/comfort; and the emotional pulse of this story makes for a riveting read.  

The Ghosts of Picnic Table #29 by @elleflies.  Deckerstar.  Maze & Chloe.  ~50k words when completely posted.  Post-S4.  This story is technically a WIP because it’s still in the process of being posted, but it’s already completely written, and I know it’s good because I betaed it and got to see how it all ends up, so I feel confident recommending it, now.  A year after Lucifer departed, Chloe is still grieving his loss, when an unusual case at a haunted picnic table crops up, and she enlists Maze’s help to investigate.  Lots of female bonding and fun in this story.  And a ton of emotional intimacy and mutual pining for Deckerstar when Lucifer mysteriously starts showing up in Chloe’s dreams.  

Boom by emynii & @obliobla.  Lucifer & Dan.  4k words.  In which Lucifer & Dan get trapped under an exploded building, and the only thing that’s stopping Dan from being crushed are Lucifer’s fanned out wings.  Cue revelation.  Cue platonic Douchifer stuff.  And have some hurt Lucifer and hurt Dan to top it off.  A lovely mix.  

Trouble by Design by @hiromystory.  Deckerstar.  Lucifer & Dan.  76k words.  Originally recommended as a WIP, now it’s done!  A post-S3 Deckerstar scenario told in novel form. My favorite thing about this story is actually the author’s in-depth exploration of how Dan might react to a Devilish revelation.  Hint: not well.  Hiro deftly tackles Dan’s feelings about some of the questionable stuff he’s done through the lens of him now knowing the punishment that awaits him, and it’s both captivating and heart wrenching.

Guilt by liannabob.  Deckerstar.  22k words.  Post-S3.  In which Chloe doesn’t take the revelation of Lucifer’s devil-ness all that well, and dire consequences ensue.  This fic.  Was.  So.  Angsty.  The idea of Lucifer slumming in Hell loops for things he loves about Earth is just ugh.  So good.  And awful at the same time.  But in a good way.  And I promise the payoff for this angst is so touching and very worth it.  

Patrick the Bartender Is Not Paid Enough for This Shit by liannabob.  Patrick.  15k words.  Canon-compliant S1 fic.  I know, I know.  Patrick, you’re saying.  Who the hell is Patrick?  Remember way back in the S1 pilot, when that bartender pops up from behind the bar, after having given Maze some head, and Maze is all cat-caught-the-canary, “You can go, Patrick.”  Yes.  That Patrick.  This fic basically takes that character who never got a single line and gives him a whole personality and backstory and POV.  The premise of this fic is that pretty much every employee at Lux low-key knows (and is fine with the fact) Lucifer is the actual Devil.  And it’s.  AMAZING.  HYSTERICAL.  And PERFECT.  If you never read another OC fic in your life, at least give this one a shot.  You won’t regret it.

Smoke & Mirrors by @theleafpile.  Deckerstar.  80k words.  An all-human mobster AU.  In which Lucifer is the Devil of Los Angeles, and Chloe is still a homicide detective for the LAPD, who gets involved with him against her better judgment.  This fic manages to maintain the integrity and essence of the characters we know and love, while simultaneously transporting them to an entirely new premise, and I loved it.  I love theleafpile’s lyrical writing style.  And I love the little bits of mythology she injects that suggest … this “all human” AU might not be what it seems on the surface.  It takes a special kind of writer to pull off this kind of transformative AU, and theleafpile does it aplomb.

The Free Parking Jackpot Rule by lilith_morgana.  Deckerstar.  3.8k words.  Interstitial, canon-compliant S3 fic.  Offers a little bit more context for the unicorn Trixie painted on Lucifer’s cheek in S3 on monopoly night.  A concentrated shot of angst, with some lovely characterization to boot.  

The Delusional Devil by @maimat2.  Deckerstar.  25k words.  Late S2 era.  A casefic case-study on Chloe’s empathy.  Based on the premise that she naturally assumes Lucifer’s wholly human self has some kind of mental trauma or disorder.  When Lucifer starts acting more … more, she assumes he’s losing his grip on reality.  I loved the touching way this story delved into Chloe & Lucifer’s friendship, and of course I loved all the hints of Lucifer’s otherness, which were tempered by Chloe’s human perceptions.    

I Will Fear No Evil by @miahclone.  Lucifer & Dan.  18k words.  An interstitial S4 piece, arguably canon-compliant until proven otherwise.  In which Lucifer & Dan are taken prisoner by some cultists, and Lucifer is subjected to an exorcism that goes horribly wrong.  WARNING: if you suffer from emetophobia, this fic will be extremely triggering.  I don’t have emetophobia, and I still got a bit queasy.  There is also some pretty graphic blood & gore.  This is quintessential whump.  But this is well worth a read if you’re a sucker for Dan & Lucifer platonic bonding, hurt Lucifer, hurt/comfort in general, endings that make you go, “Whoa! New head canon!” and humor in the face of shit circumstances.  Which I very much am.  So.  There you go :D

De Profundis by @mswyrr.  Amenadiel & Lucifer.  3k words.  Post-S4.  Amenadiel offers Lucifer a solution to the problem of Hell needing to be ruled by an angel.  A beautifully written brother-bonding fic, and, honestly, I think it’s the most straightforward way to fix how S4 ended. 

Time Heals All Wounds by @notonelineff.  Deckerstar.  23k words.  Post-S3.  Fills in the blanks for how things could have gone after S3.  Lucifer is in dire need of medical aid, and Chloe tries to help.  Satisfying hurt/comfort, and a lovely resolution.

Ouroboros by @pandainthestars.  Deckerstar.  3k words.  Events happen slightly differently in 4x09.  Chloe & Lucifer chase after Kinley.  Lucifer goes full-Devil when they’re in pursuit, not when they’re at Lux, which prompts some very interesting/poignant discussion between Chloe & Lucifer.  I loved Chloe’s assertion of the ouroboros metaphor.  A quick, angsty read.  

A question of faith by @pixelbypixelfanfic.  Ella & Lucifer.  2.1k words.  A post-reveal fic for Ella, in which Lucifer & Ella discuss her faith.  A poignant, thoughtful little piece that I really enjoyed.  

Soup Kitchen by @tarysande.  Deckerstar.  1k words.  Speculative scene-replacement, S4.  A heart-wrenching little interstitial scene for 4x03 that looks at how things may have gone if Lucifer hadn’t already been pushed by Father Kinley into doubting Chloe’s intentions.  

my definition of holy (changes with each loss) by @thewollfgang.  Deckerstar.  3k words.  Post-S4.  So … this fic doesn’t end happy.  At all.  Beware if that’s a problem for you.  But if you want some delicious, cutting, heart-wrenching angst to roll around in for a while, this fic is your jam.  The concept of Chloe praying to Lucifer intermittently, giving him updates, sending him her love, as she lives her life on Earth, and he’s stuck in Hell is just … oh, my god, my heart.  

drunk in love by @thewollfgang.  Deckerstar.  4k words.  Post-S4.  This fic isn’t in alphabetical order with wollfy’s other fic on this list, but I’m doing that intentionally, because if you want a happy ending for the previous nuclear angst bomb, I recommend head-canoning this as your ultimate resolution, where Lucifer & Chloe are reunited, and everything is gooey and perfect and the world is puppies and kittens.  I live to see tipsy Lucifer & Chloe at Lux through the perspective of their friends/found-family.  I hope we get something like this in S4.

The Trouble with Brittanies by @theyahwehdance.  500 words.  A hysterical little ficlet in which Lucifer calls Chloe and asks for help with the Brittanies.  I saw this ficlet evolve from a live discussion that made me laugh so hard my belly hurt.  I mean, it’s an honest misunderstanding ….

[waywardnewcomer]

Perfect Mistake

A/N: This is for @lielullabye writing challenge! Congrats on 500 and I hope you enjoy! It’s 3am so sorry for any mistakes

Summary: Bucky was the perfect guy, until he wasn’t.

Prompt: Professor!Character x Student!Reader, “You broke my heart.” “And you think I didn’t shatter mine?”

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst, heartbreak, swearing

Pairings: Professor!Bucky x Student!Reader, Steve x Natasha

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

It was one of the summers you would only see in movies. Meeting a hot older guy at the beach on a blind double date, starting out as only a fling and ending up falling in love with the guy. He treated you better than any guy you had ever met, making sure you were always comfortable, giving you cuddles and stroking your hair when you were sad and taking you out every week to show you off. You had met all his friends, even his parents briefly and they all loved you. You had even introduced him to your parents and friends, gaining their approval. You thought you were gonna marry the guy, you’d even talked about moving in together. He was best friends with your best friend’s boyfriend, it was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

“Bucky we gotta get up, I have classes today.” You mumbled smiling at him softly kissing his lips, feeling his stubble rub against your chin.

“Classes?” He mumbled sleepily, pulling you closer to him and snuggling his head into your chest.

“Yeah you know this, I’m in grad school. Final year baby.” You mumbled, trying to untangle yourself from his body as you kissed his long hair softly. 

“Wait. What school?” He asked you carefully, eyebrows furrowing and suddenly more awake than before.

“Harvard, I thought we went through this?” You sighed as you pulled on your jeans and sweater, brushing your hair into a bun. Softly walking around your apartment so you didn’t wake your roommate. 

“Since when?” He asked in surprise, pulling on his own clothes quickly.

“Since 5 years ago, why are you being so weird? I told you this months ago.” You laughed at his shocked face and gave him a small kiss before going to the bathroom.

“No, you didn’t! I’d have remembered this. Look Y/N I gotta go to work, I’ll text you later.” He rushed out, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as you brushed your teeth and practically running out the front door.

“Well, that was weird.” You said out loud to yourself, shrugging as you finished getting ready. 

You didn’t hear from Bucky until your morning break that day. It was a phone call that broke your heart, it was cold and not at all like Bucky.

“Hey Buck, how’s work?” You smiled as you answered the phone.

“Y/N look we gotta call this off.” 

“What?” You choked out, hoping not to tear up in the middle of a campus cafe.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t see you we’re done.” Bucky rushed out.

“Bucky I thought you loved me. We were gonna move in together. What happened?” You asked, stepping outside to try to mask your sadness from your classmates gathered in the cafe.

“I don’t. I can’t live a lie. I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“Fuck your sorry Bucky. I loved you. I wanted to marry you someday and now you’re telling me it was all a lie. You used me. Fuck you. Don’t speak to me ever again.” You shouted angrily, hanging up your phone and throwing it against the wall out of anger. You let the tears fall down your face as you dropped to the ground, curling up on the grass, back to the wall. 

“Y/N?” You heard a voice ask making you look up through your wet eyelashes, to see your best friend standing there. “Woah what happened?” 

“Nat, he dumped me. He said he never loved me.” You sobbed as the redhead pulled you into her side as she sat next to you.

“But he looked so loved up with you, he told us he thought you were the one. It doesn’t add up.” She said confused, taking out her phone to shoot a text to Steve, her boyfriend and Bucky’s best friend to see what the hell was going on. Steve had suggested setting them up on a blind date together, saying his old army buddy who had just come back to town needed a companion, and that you would be perfect after knowing you for a year. If anyone knew something, it was Steve.

“Yeah well, he lied.” You sighed, wiping the tears falling from your eyes and lifting your head to look at her. “Can we go home?” 

“Yeah come on, get your stuff.” She smiled sadly at you. “What the hell happened to your phone?” She asked seeing the smashed screen in your hands as you picked it up.

“I kinda chucked it at the wall,” You laughed slightly. 

“Only you. Come on, let’s go watch movies and eat junk food.” 

For a week you didn’t leave your apartment. You told your advisor you had the flu and were going to be off a while. You barely left your bedroom unless Natasha and Steve pulled you out of bed to eat and shower. They took it in turns to hold you while you cried and stroked your hair until you fell asleep. Steve practically lived with you for the last 2 months and he was like a brother to you, no matter his connection to Bucky. He had only tried to bring him up once and knew never to do it again.

“He’s hurting too you know.” He mumbled one night as you were crying into his chest.

“Steve please don’t talk about him. It’s too hard.” You pleaded with him making him nod and kiss your hair, looking at Nat sadly. They hated seeing you like this, you were either not eating at all or stuffing your face, sleeping too much or staying up until early hours. Your heart was broken into two and they didn’t know how to fix it. So they did everything they could until you went back to school 2 weeks later. Since you had only attended one class on your first day back, you needed to catch up and make a good impression on your new professors. 

When you saw him at the front of the room, hair tucked into a man bun and dark bags under his eyes, you froze. He did a double-take when he saw you and locked his eyes on to yours, his immediately softening and his jaw slacking a little. He looked at you pleadingly as you choked back your tears. You were not ready for this. 

You turned around and left the room, immediately rushing back home and ignoring the shouts he made from his classroom door. When you got in you slammed the door and stood in front of the couch where Nat and Steve were cuddling and watching a movie. You tapped your foot impatiently as Nat sat up abruptly and Steve gulped guiltily. 

“Y/N what’s-” Nat started but you cut her off.

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” You asked him, raising your eyebrow. 

“Tell me what? Steve?” She asked turning to look at him confused. 

“Bucky. Um, Bucky is -” He started stumbling, trying to figure out how not to hurt the two most important girls in his life.

“My fucking professor.” You seethed, making Nat look between you two in shock. “When the fuck were you going to tell me, Rogers?” You asked him angrily.

“He told me not to.” He mumbled quietly.

“So you lied to her? To me? To us?” Nat asked, getting up and standing beside you. 

“Look I’m sorry. He wanted to speak to you himself.” Steve spoke, licking his lips and avoiding the gaze of the two girls.

“Steve I’ve just stopped crying myself to sleep and now I see him and it breaks my heart all over again. You’ve helped him pour salt in the wound. You’re an ass, Rogers.” You shouted and stormed off into your bedroom slamming your door. 

You heard him and Nat whisper arguing with each other before hearing the front door close softly and a knock at your door. It creaked open and you felt a dip behind you on your bed and arms pulling you into their chest. You cried into them, banging onto his chest as he whispered sorry over and over again.

“You helped him break my heart, Steve.” You hiccuped, looking up at him.

“I know bub, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to but he wanted to speak to you. If you don’t want to I’ll support you all the way. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you.” He spoke kissing your forehead and squeezing you tightly. 

“He broke my heart, Steve. It’s too hard.” You mumbled, sitting up and grabbing your pillow to your chest watching him mirror your actions. 

“I know. I’m sorry for pushing it. I’ll tell him to back off.” He smiled at you sadly.

“I need your help.” You mumbled. 

“Anything.”

“Ask him to let me drop his class.” 

“Y/N, that’s your dream class.” He mumbled, looking at you sadly.

“I can’t focus knowing he’s up there teaching, it’s too hard. I can’t do it.” You spoke softly.

“Okay. I’ll do it. You’ll have to set up a meeting though, you know that.” He said looking at you sadly.

“I know, but after that, I won’t ever have to see him again. Get his signature and go.”

“Okay.” He mumbled knowing it was a bad idea but he knew he was going to do it anyway because you had asked him and he didn’t want to hurt you again. 

It was another 2 weeks before you could actually face Bucky in his office. You wore a skirt and crop top, makeup on and hair styled just the way he liked it, showing him what he was missing by being a jerk. You had to steady yourself with a bit of dutch courage before you went in, not anything to get you tipsy but a shot of whisky wasn’t going to hurt. You gripped the sheet he needed to sign in your hand and knocked on the door harshly, sucking your breath in when his voice spoke to come in. 

“Professor Barnes.” You nodded, taking a seat opposite him, placing the sheet on his desk and not looking into his eyes.

“Y/N, come on. Look at me.” He mumbled, pleading with you.

“Mr Barnes, please just sign the sheet.” You demanded.

“No.”

“What?” You asked looking at him.

“I said no.” He crossed his arms.

“Bucky, just sign the fucking form so we can get this over with.” You shouted at him.

“Y/N this is your dream class, you’re not dropping it.”

“It’s not a dream class if you’re the one fucking teaching it.”

“Y/N I miss you.”

“You broke my heart.” You shouted at him, standing up and pacing around his office agitated.

“And you think I didn’t shatter mine? I’m your professor Y/N. This is forbidden.” He pointed between the two of you.

“So why didn’t you just say that?” You asked him angrily.

“Because I didn’t know what to do. I love you so much and it scares me. But this was my first stable job since the army and I didn’t want to lose it.”

“So you chucked me away instead? You didn’t love me Bucky don’t make me laugh. You used me.” You chuckled dryly.

“You’re not dropping this class Y/N.”

“I can’t take this class when you’re the one teaching.”

“I’m dropping this class.” 

“What?” You asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“I love you. I want you to be happy. I want to be with you. I can’t do any of that if I’m your professor.” 

“But this is your dream job.”

“This is your dream class and you’re my dream girl. I refuse to give you up for my happiness.”

“You already did.” You mumbled as you walked out of his office, making sure to slam the door behind you and shutting him out of your life forever.

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[cutesuki--bakugou]

Adopt a Pumpkin

@bnha-halloween2019 | Day 5: Pumpkin Patch | Bakugou x Koge (OC), ft. Matsuki, Natsuki and Atsuki (OCs)| Teen | Cursing, Cute Family Fluff

Art challenge: Use only THESE COLORS

Main art blog @hvalrossart​

“I’m gonna find the bestest pumpkin!” Atsuki cried out excitedly, kicking his legs so aggressively in his happiness that he was nearly able to move his car seat about, even though it was strapped down tightly. “Huge!” 

“You can’t get too big of one, Atsu, it has to fit in the trunk. Or, all five of ours have to fit, so we have to be equal-ish. Right, Daddy?” Natsuki leaned forward, gripping onto the shoulders of the driver’s side seat where her father was sitting. Only half paying attention to the conversation, Bakugou glanced into the backseat through the rear view mirror, noticing that his two youngest children where gazing at him expectantly. 

“What’s that, squid?” 

“Yes, baby.” Koge answered for him, turning a bit in the passengers side seat to address her children directly. “We all have to get normal sized pumpkins. Nothing giant, though if you really want a tiny one, then that’s fine. But only one each.” 

“How big?” Atsuki’s crimson gaze moved to look at his hands as he tried to measure the length of the pumpkin, as accurately as a four year old could. “Twenty feet?” 

Natsuki scoffed, flopping back to sit normally. “Twenty feet is too big! Daddy, how big is twenty feet?” Bakugou furrowed his brow at the question, unable to really think of an example to give his children. They were always so curious, so full of questions and odd conversations that he was completely unsure of what to even answer half of the time in a way that they would understand. As such, he had become quite adept at deflecting when it came to stuff he didn’t know. 

“Natsu, we aren’t measuring in feet, we’re measuring in inches. We aren’t even going to measure them, we’re just looking at how big they are. And if they’re in good condition so they hold up when we carve them.” Bakugou kept his eyes on the road as he took a left turn, following the signs to the pumpkin patch they had decided on visiting. This was Atsuki’s first Halloween where he could really participate in an independent way, and so Koge and Bakugou had decided that this would be the perfect first event. Later would be his costume, though he had already settled on being an octopus for… some odd reason. 

Natsuki nodded in understanding of her fathers argument, turning her attention to look out of her window. “My pumpkin has to be perfect so that I can make it scary! I want it to have fangs and evil eyes!” 

“Me too, me too!” Atsuki cried out in his typical excited squeal, always hell bent on copying his siblings on anything that he could. Koge smiled, reaching back to tickle his feet, making him giggle. 

“So two scary pumpkins, huh? I think mine will be cute. What about you Matsuki?” As Koge addressed her oldest son, she turned back to sit normally in her chair, hearing the pages of his book crinkle as he put it down to answer her. He was always the quiet type, stuck in his fantasy worlds during drives while his siblings caused enough ruckus to give anyone a migraine. How he could focus on reading with two obnoxious children beside him was something Koge could never understand, though she sure did wish he’d teach her his tricks. 

Noticing they were getting close to their destination anyway, Matsuki placed his bookmark and closed his book, shoving it into the pouch on the back of the passenger’s side seat. “Well, I was thinking about painting mine instead of carving it. I’m… not so good at carving. The knives and stuff make me a little nervous.” 

“Matsu, if you wanna be a doctor, you gotta get over being scared of knives.” Natsuki huffed as she fumbled with Atsuki’s shoes, trying to get them back on the constantly wiggling toddler. “How are you gonna do surgery on people if you’re scared?” 

“Natsuki.” Bakugou grumbled in his typical ‘dad voice’, instantly getting Natsuki to pause and realize how bad she had sounded. She mumbled an apology to Matsuki, who took it with a smile and a small shake of his head. 

“It’s alright, she isn’t wrong. But I just like to paint, so I thought I’d do it on the pumpkin.” The preteen gave a stretch, glad to know that soon he would be out of the car and not squished between the door and a car seat. “I was thinking about doing a monster. But a funny one.” 

“I think that would be amazing, baby.” Koge turned her gaze up to her husband, who took a quick glance at her in return. “And what about you, hm?” 

Bakugou sighed as he thought, giving a small shrug. “I have no idea. I’m sure I’ll think of something. But no matter what, mine’s gonna be the best.” A smirk crossed his lips as he directed the challenge towards his children, instantly gaining a gasp from his just as competitive daughter. 

“No way Daddy! Mine will be the best!” 

“No, no! Mine!” 

Giving a chuckle as his two youngest went at it with a back and forth argument, Bakugou pulled the car into the pumpkin patch parking lot, which was really just a large rectangle of pebbles with a rickety wooden fence border. There were only a couple of other cars there, which made Bakugou feel better about not having to deal with a huge crowd. “Is there an entrance fee, Utsuro?” 

“Mhmm.” Koge responded, able to see the sign near the entrance. “Looks like 500 yen per car. So just that much for all of us. Not bad.” As the car stopped, Koge got out, need to wrangle up the youngest before he took off without them. 

With an annoyed grunt, Bakugou turned off the car and got out himself, placing his hand onto Natsukis head once she bounced out as well. Squatting down, he kept her attention, keeping his hand firmly in place. “Remember what we talked about. There’s a time and place for horsing around…?”

“And this is not it.” Natsuki finished the sentence, nodding in understanding. “Don’t worry Daddy, I’ll behave and I’ll help watch Atsu.” She burst out into giggles as Bakugou place a rough and playful kiss on her cheek, joined in with a ruffle of her already messy hair as he stood. 

“That’s my girl. Now go on. I’m going to trust you to pick a pumpkin for me, too, okay?” 

“Yes, sir!” With that, Natsuki bounded off after her older brother, who was waiting patiently by the entrance to the main farm area. Meeting up with Koge who held Atsuki on her hip, he took a moment to glance around the area, as he typically did for any new place he took his family to. It was a mostly unconscious need to scan the area for any dangers, but all he saw was a pleasant large field of hundreds of pumpkins. Thankfully, the entire area was secured with a fence, as was the small petting zoo they had off to the side. There were very few people about at this time of the day, as they had decided to go closer to dusk so they could have a literal time limit on how long they would be there. Bakugou and Koge both knew that their children could spend forever in a place like this, and dragging them home wasn’t going to be an easy task. 

“Seems like a nice place.” Koge spoke softly, probably doing the exact same thing that he had been. She took his free hand into hers, tenderly lacing their fingers as they made their way to the entrance. “We’ll probably have children that smell like goats by the time we leave. You know they won’t be able to resist the-” 

“Goats!” Atsuki cried out, pointing towards the petting zoo. “Mama, Daddy, look! Goats! And chickens!” He gave a couple excited bounces, though Koge was able to keep a good hold on him. “Can I pet? Can I pet them?” 

“I’m sorry baby, you know that you’re allergic to them like Mommy is. We can pet the chickens and the pigs, but we can’t pet the goats, okay?” 

“Yay! I like chickens more than goats. But they’re not for food, right?” 

Bakugou chuckled, digging through his coat pocket to pull out the extra 500 yen to pay for entry. “No squid, these are pets. So you treat them nicely, like Socket and the other rats.” 

“Yes, Daddy. I wish Socket could have come with us, she likes going on car rides.” Atsuki watched his father closely as Bakugou handed the money to the person at the entrance, thinking fondly of the family’s pet rats at home. “She could have been best friends with the chickens.” 

“I’m sure she would have loved it, baby.” Koge shifted Atsuki off her hip and put him carefully on the floor next to his sister, who was nearly bursting out of her skin with excitement. After the fee was paid, the attendant opened up the entrance gate, allowing the family inside. At first, Natsuki and Atsuki both hung back anxiously, glancing up at their parents as they awaited those words. 

With a smile, Koge released Bakugou’s hand and instead put her arm around his waist, cuddling into his side as his arm rested over her shoulders. “Go on then, little gremlins! Go find your pumpkins!” Excitedly, the two youngest took off running, with Matsuki following as he took on the role of babysitter as he usually did, even without directions to do so. With a happy sigh, Koge lied her head against Bakugou’s shoulder, walking with him through the rows of pumpkins and hay. “I always love this time of year… So much fun stuff for us to do together.” 

Bakugou gave his typical soft grunt in agreement, shoving his free hand into his coat pocket. “The kiddos sure do love it. At least I think Matsu does? He’s so damn mellow I can’t ever tell if he’s enjoying himself or not.” 

Koge giggled softly, carefully stepping over a tiny pumpkin that was in her way. “Of course he is. He’s just getting older, you know, to where more childish things like this don’t really entertain him as much as they used to.” 

“You think this is childish, Utsuro?” 

“I- well, no, not necessarily. I mean, unless you’re just having the time of your life, we can consider this a total adult centered event. Just needs some wine.” Bringing their walking to a stop, she moved to stand in front of him, wrapping both arms around him. “Thank you for taking the day off to come out here. I know it’s not easy to get away.” 

Bakugou leaned in to kiss her sweetly, one hand on her side while the other caressed the back of her neck softly. “I wouldn’t miss it. Besides, tomorrow morning my parents are coming to pick them up for the weekend. So guess what?” 

Koge smiled, feeling her face flush from the snarky smirk that crossed his lips. “You took the whole weekend off, too?” 

“The whole weekend. So I get you all to myself.” Bakugou kissed her again, letting his fingers run through her hair. “Then we’ll really have an adult centered event. And a lot of wine.” Before he could move in to kiss her again, the pitter-patter of speedy little child feet caught his attention, looking down as Atsuki came running up to them, holding something against his chest. 

“Mama, Daddy, I found my pumpkin!” He stopped next to them, huffing and puffing from running. Released her husband, Koge squatted down in front of Atsuki, resting her arms on her knees. “Oh yeah? What’cha got there?” 

Holding out his arms, he presented Koge with quite the tiny and pathetic looking pumpkin, which was only slightly bigger than her own palm. Confused, Koge took the tiny pumpkin, looking it over a bit. “You mean this?” 

Atsuki nodded, placing a tiny finger on the pumpkin. “Yeah. It’s so tiny, no one else would pick it. I wanted to take it home.” 

“You feel bad for it?” 

“Uh huh. It was covered with hay. It’s sad.” The child took the pumpkin back from her, turning it over in his hands a bit. “I want to give it a nice house to grow up in.” 

After sharing a quick glance with Bakugou, Koge smiled at her son, gently pulling him closer so she could give him a tender kiss on the cheek. “You know what? How about we adopt this pumpkin as a family and take it home. You go pick another bigger pumpkin to carve, okay?” 

“Really? It’s okay?” Atsuki turned his gaze up to his father, who gave a nod in agreement. Wide smile on his lips, the child handed Koge back the little pumpkin. “Will you protect it, Mommy? Natsuki laughed at it, I think it likes you more.” Taking the pumpkin and standing, Koge held it carefully. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll make sure it’s nice and safe. Now go on and pick your carving pumpkin before it gets too chilly.” With her promise to protect his new friend, Atsuki ran back off towards his sister, who was gazing up at the biggest pumpkin in the patch, which was even bigger than her. Placing the pumpkin into her coat pocket, Koge turned her attention back to Bakugou, who was looking down at her with an amused smile. 

“Adopt it, huh?” 

“What else could I say? That was the cutest thing ever, Katsuki, don’t even try to deny it.” Hooking her arm with his, she started to head towards their children. Bakugou nodded as he followed her, though the smile didn’t fade from his lips. 

“Nah, I would have agreed, too. It was cute. That little turd has some softness in him. He’s like a mix of Matsu and Natsu with a shit ton of energy and craziness, but enough empathy to feel bad for a fucking pumpkin of all things. Hey- Natsuki! Get of that pumpkin!” Bakugou interrupted his own sentence to bark at his daughter, who was standing on the large pumpkin. Being caught, Natsuki instead sat down on it, waving towards her parents. 

“Wait, Daddy, come take a picture with me on it! This pumpkin is huge! Like, it’s as big as your head!” 

Koge couldn’t help but laugh, covering her lips with her fingers as she released Bakugou’s arm to get her phone out of her pocket. “Oh my goodness. I wonder… your physical or metaphorical big head?” 

With a scoff, Bakugou gave Koge’s backside a rough pinch, making her squeal and hop away from him to avoid any further punishment. “O-ow! I was just joking!” 

“Your joking deserves a pinch.” He stopped next to the pumpkin when they reached it, looking at Natsuki as she was nearly eye level with him now. “You promised me you wouldn’t play around, Natsu.” 

“But Daddy, the sign says it’s okay!” Natsuki pointed to the sign beside the pumpkin, which indeed indicated that it was okay for pictures and for small children to sit on. With a grumble, Bakugou ruffled her hair, making her giggle in victory. 

“You’re too smart for your own good, squid.” 

“Okay!” Koge held up her phone to take a picture, even though she had been secretly taking them the entire time Bakugou and Natsuki had been conversing. “Get together around the pumpkin!” As her children and husband all posed appropriately, Koge snapped who knows how many pictures, before setting the timer and propping it up against other pumpkins. “Now with me in it…” In a rush, she hopped over to stand with Matsuki. 

The rest of the evening went like this, with laughter, pictures and treasured family moments abundant. Before the sun set under the horizon, they had their pumpkins loaded into the car and new friends made in various forms, from the friendly farm animals, to neglected baby pumpkins, to a scarecrow that Natsuki appropriately named Ugly Hay Face. By the time the family got settled back into the car, Atsuki was yawning like mad and Natsuki was picking hay out of her hair, tossing it out the window. 

With a sigh, Koge bucked her own seat belt, leaning her head back against the seat to smile up at Bakugou. “I think that was a successful event.” 

Bakugou nodded, giving her a small smile of his own. “I think so, too. No real casualties. Except for that chicken that thought my hair was hay for whatever reason.” 

Koge giggled, rubbing his arm gently. “It does kind of look like hay, love.” Hearing her name from her youngest child, Koge turned her attention to him, first met with outstretched hands. 

“Mommy, can I please have the baby pumpkin?” 

“Oh,” Koge removed the little thing from her pocket, placing it into his carefully. “Of course, baby. Be careful with it.” 

Atsuki cradled the pumpkin to his chest, holding it tenderly. “I will. I think it’s the best pumpkin in the whole world. Even better than the big one.” 

“Me too. Definitely the best in the entire patch. Now, how about we get home. Gotta prepare you three for Grandma Bakugou’s house this weekend. Natsuki, baby, don’t throw the hay on the floorboards! How’d you even get that dirty?”

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (24)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

Current Word Count -     70,578

MASTERLIST

Chapter Twenty Four - Around The Campfire

“Exactly how attached are you to Wilson?” Bucky enquired, as he pulled you in front of him, using you as a human shield.

“Touch my Sam and I’ll take your Steve.” You vowed, throwing an apologetic look at the Captain.

“We can get you a new best friend.” Bucky offered while Thor and Clint tried to hold Sam back.

“Well, I could always ask Scott Lang.” You suggested and felt Bucky’s glare burning holes in the back of your head.

“Fine, Wilson can live.” He snapped and you grinned victoriously.

“Sam, Sammy. Can I come over?” You called gently, like you were talking to a wounded animal.

He paused in his struggling to glare at you and you slowly walked over, your hands out to show you came in peace. As soon as you were in reaching distance Sam ducked out of Thor’s grip and grabbed you, shoving you behind him.

“Oh no, how will I ever escape.” You muttered sarcastically.

“Barnes? Really?” Sam barked at you furiously.

“But Sam, Bucky’s soooo pretty. Isn’t that right?” Clint mocked you.

“Clint, not helping. Sam, yes, Barnes. He isn’t so bad… It could be worse.” You offered.

“Name one person worse than the metal armed monstrosity.” Sam challenged.

“Uhhhhh.”

“See! You can’t.”

“Thanks Doll.” Bucky called out indignantly.

“Alright fine, I can’t name someone worse. Ask me to name someone better.” You demanded.

“I can think of at least 500 people right off the top of my head who are better for you.” Sam insisted.

“I can’t. I can’t think of a single person better or worse. When I picture myself with someone it’s him, only him. There is no other option for me Sam, it has to be Bucky. He’s the only person I have ever wanted to be with.” You told him earnestly, desperate to make him understand.

You heard Steve aww at your statement and resisted the urge to flip him off. Bucky’s eyes went soft as he gazed at you and Sam looked thoroughly disgusted.  

“I can’t be the only person who thinks this is a terrible idea!” Sam insisted. Looking around for support.

“Brother Barnes and Lady Stark are formidable warriors in their own right. Combined, their strength will be the stuff of legends and they share similar traumas in their pasts, who better to support them than one another? I wish them both good fortune.” Thor announced.

“Sorry buddy, everyone ships it.” Clint shrugged.

“The only person who’s opinion matters is hers Wilson.” Bucky snarled.

“Well my opinion must matter or she wouldn’t have been sneaking around behind my back.” Sam rebutted.

“SAM! We literally just got together half an hour ago. There was nothing to tell before that. And you found out before Darcy did.” You offered with a devious smirk.

“Oh, ok. That’s not so bad. I can deal with that. I can deal with this. I don’t like it but it’s going to be fine.” Sam said, calming down.

You had just breathed a sigh of relief when Bucky decided to interject.

“Before today we were just sleeping together, no strings attached.” He said, stretching the truth with an infuriatingly evil smirk.

Sam puffed up and you batted Thors arm away as Sam dove for Bucky who stepped out of the way.

“Just let them go at it.” You muttered in resignation.

You plunked yourself down on a seat while everyone got back to preparing the Barbecue, the occasional yell or swear echoing from Bucky and Sam.

They were both being idiots and frankly, at this point you hoped they killed each other.

You busied yourself playing peek-a-boo with baby Nathaniel and ignoring everybody over the age of twelve. Even when Bucky and Sam came slinking back, you very deliberately turned your back to them and ignored them sniffing around you with their pathetic apologies.

“I’m not a toy to be fought over am I Nathaniel? No I’m not.” You cooed.

Your passive aggressive dig hit home and Bucky and Sam guiltily scampered away, leaving you to it. Natasha just sat next to you and fixed you with a blank look until you relented and started speaking to her. She’d had good intentions, every thing she ever did was to help you. It wasn’t her fault the men in your life were overly protective, prideful, possessive morons.  

It turned out to be a fun barbecue, so long as you ignored Sam and Bucky. They didn’t make it easy, if you even thought about asking for the ketchup then Bucky had already handed it to you, if your glass got below the halfway point then Sam was quick to refill it. You refused to acknowledge or thank them because every single time one of them did something that could be construed as even remotely nice, they would shoot a smug look at the other.

So you resolutely ignored them both, focusing your attention on Thor’s vivid descriptions of Asgard to the kids or Laura’s stories about the farm to a fascinated Vision. You conversed and laughed the afternoon away, paying attention to everyone happily, engaging in conversations and jokes. As your mood got brighter and happier, Sam and Bucky’s got steadily lower. You overheard Laura tell them to knock it off and stop competing for your affection but they didn’t appear to get the message.

As evening fell, Clint set a campfire that everyone gathered around and Lila and Copper taught you, Thor and Vision how to make smores. You and vision couldn’t quite get the hang of it but Thor did so you kept pointing out random things behind him and stealing his smores. He knew exactly what you were doing but very graciously pretended he was oblivious.  

As the night wore on, your tiredness crept in. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and you’d had a long day so inevitably you nodded off in front of the campfire.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bucky’s heart was sinking in his chest as he gazed across the fire at you dejectedly. He hadn’t even been able to make it a full hour, let alone a day before messing things up with you. You point blank refused to talk to him and every time he tried to get closer to you or do something helpful Wilson was there to get in the way.

He watched as your eyes got heavier and you started blinking slowly at the flames. Your head dropped down and your breathing evened out.

“Maybe we should think about heading back, everyone’s getting tired.” He muttered to Steve, nodding in your direction.

“Some of us more than others.” Steve chuckled.

“I’ll take her to the quinjet, she can sleep on the way back.” Bucky told him, getting up and making his way round the fire towards you.

Of course Sam had beaten him to it, of course he had.

“I’ve got her birdbrain.” He snapped.

Sam glared at him, pausing with his arms stretched out towards you.

“I don’t know if you noticed Barnes, but all those months you were making her life miserable I was the one carrying her to bed when she fell asleep. I’ve got this.”

“Just wouldn’t want you to put your back out is all.” Bucky snarked.

“You saying she’s heavy?”

“What? No, that’s not what I… Fuck you Wilson.”

Sam grinned victoriously and gathered you up, holding you bridal style. You turned your head and nuzzled into his shoulder, fast asleep.

“Bucky.” You said softly in your sleep.

Sam and Bucky froze, looking down at you. Sam sighed heavily and his shoulders drooped.

“Alright fine. But I swear to god if you hurt her Barnes, it won’t be Tony you have to worry about.” Sam vowed, gently transferring you to Bucky.

Bucky cradled you to his chest firmly, his heart already feeling lighter just by holding you.

“The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her.” He said softly.

Sam nodded, satisfied and left him alone with you. Bucky held you against himself, careful not to jostle you as he carried you back to the quinjet and laid you down on the seat with your head on his lap. He stroked your hair gently and closed his own eyes while he patiently waited for the others to arrive so they could fly back to the quinjet.

He’d let Sam carry you back to your room when they landed, Sam would make sure you got back safely. And maybe when you woke up, you’d forgive them for being so stupid.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Kotonok, wake up.” Natasha’s voice pierced through your dream.

You jerked into a sitting position, looking around. You were on the quinjet.

“We were on out way back to the compound when we got a call from the UN. We don’t have time to drop you back off, we need to get to D.C.” She explained as you frantically rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“Whas going on?” You mumbled.

“Aliens.”

That woke you up. Natasha held out something to you and you took it, puzzled. It was the tactical suit and hood that Fury had supplied you with, though it had a few alterations. The once pure black material had two thick red vertical stripes along the chest and a thinner gold one between the blocks of red. Your suit had been Starkified but it was subtle enough that nobody would make the connection.

“Suit up.” She told you with a wry grin.

You wasted no time in pulling the suit on, hiding behind Natasha and Wanda. Steve came over as you were lacing up your combat boots.

“We need as many people on the ground as possible, stay on the fringes and don’t engage unless you have to. Your objective is to protect and escort on civilians away from the fight. Do not act to familiar with any of us. It’s unlikely we will be able to hide your presence from the UN but we can play dumb, say we don’t know who you were.” Steve told you.

“So as far as anyone will think, I’m just a masked vigilante who was in the right place at the right time.” You said.

“Exactly. There are too many civilians around, under no circumstances are you to allow Vernichtung into the fight.” He instructed you firmly.

“Got it Cap. Minimal violence, get the civvies to safety and avoid you lot.” You summed up.

He nodded once at you, satisfied you had your orders and went back to the battle strategizing. Natasha handed you a case with all your preferred weapons in it and you slipped them into the right holsters and sheaths.

“Nervous?” She asked.

“No, it’s not like I’ve never done this before.” You chuckled.

“You’ve never not been able to fall back on Vernichtung before. Or been seen by the public.” She pointed out.

You were aware of that but were pushing the knowledge to the back of your mind because quite frankly it terrified you. Vernichtung was something you despised and feared but it was always there to fall back on, if things got too bad. Now you had no fail safe, if you messed up then that was it. You couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’ll be fine.” You said flatly and pushed past her, further into the jet.

“Cap, you need me to drop out of the quinjet before you land or sneak out after you’ve all left?” You asked.

“Once we’re in the fight nobody will be paying attention to the quinjet, you can leave then. Just make sure you aren’t seen.” He decided.

You felt a hand graze your elbow and turned your head slightly to see Bucky. He gestured to the back of the jet with his head questiongly and you walked away, him following you. It was as close to privacy as the two of you were going to get.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out.

“It doesn’t matter right now.”

“It matters to me. Never go into a fight with anything unresolved doll.”

“Fine. You need to accept that Sam means a hell of a lot to me, he’s like a brother to me. And he needs to accept that you mean a lot to me, I’m choosing to be with you because it’s what I want. Both of you need to accept that neither of you owns me, I can do as I damn well please.”

“Understood.” He said firmly.

“That’s it? Understood?” You asked in disbelief.

The corner of Bucky’s lip twitched as he fought the urge to smirk at you.

“You’re my girl now sweetheart, but only because you made me the lucky guy you gave yourself to. I know I don’t own you, I don’t want to. I just want to be with you. So will you forgive me for being so damn stupid?”

The only thing you registered was him calling you his girl, everything else was fuzzy. His girl. You felt like The Grinch when his heart grew three sizes. You were grinning up at him like a fool and he took that to mean you forgave him and in full view of everyone in the quinjet Bucky wrapped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you to him, tilted his head towards yours and kissed you breathless.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You weren’t allowed to talk to anyone over the comms unless it was an emergency but you were allowed to listen, which is how you discovered the Aliens currently invading the capital were called the Kree. They were apparently here to demand their property be returned to them. Their property being Inhumans. Humans who’s ancestors had been infused with alien DNA and who had extraordinary abilities when put through ‘terragenisis’.

They were big and blue and had guns that shot some kind of laser at people. That was all you needed to know. You stayed on the fringes of the fight like instructed, dodging past the enemy and pointing people to the best hiding spots.

You refrained from letting out a whoop of excitement when you saw the red and gold blur speeding overhead, a familiar silver blur beside him. You dad had joined the fray and he’d brought War machine with him.

You spotted two who were firing on civilians trapped in a building with a blown out window. You looked up and scanned the sky, quickly calculating who was closest and the least occupied.

“Falcon, civilians at 3’o’clock.” You informed him.

You saw him dive down towards where you had instructed and ducked into an alleyway. You could hear the sounds of people screaming a few streets away but no noises of fighting. You quickly scaled the alley wall and made your way across the rooftop towards the sound.

There were thirty or so people running for their lives away from a small cluster of Kree about four hundred yards away. The group ran past your position on the roof and you saw a little boy, no more than eight years old drop the small action figure he was clutching. The boy tried to go back for it but his father picked him up and ran with him.

It was such an insignificant thing to care about in the heat of battle. But watching that little boy crying out for his toy as his frantic father ran them further away absolutely obliterated your heart. You didn’t even stop to consider the stupidity of what you were doing or how angry the team would be if they found out, you darted out of the shadows towards the abandoned toy figure. In your haste you didn’t check the terrain properly, you didn’t see one of the Kree walk around the corner, mere meters from you.

You scooped it up and gripped it tightly, in full view of the large imposing blue alien. He grinned at you, baring all his teeth and raised his weapon. You were about to be blasted apart, for a toy. Your life didn’t flash before your eyes like you’d heard could happen, instead the last few seconds of your life slowed down as the trigger was pulled and the blinding laser beam shot towards you.

And then it was blasted backwards. The blue killer barely had any time to look confounded before the telekinetic wave charged with crackling black electricity hit him, sending him careening all the way up the street as the death wave shot towards the Kree warriors gathered 400 yards up the street. They were all obliterated, sent flying by your power.

It was all over in the space of a few seconds. Your shaking hand lowered back down to your side and you caught sight of your reflection in the window of a store front. Your eyes looked back at you from the glass.

Your eyes. Wide and full of shock and not a trace of black in them.

Like you were in a trance you turned around and walked over to the shocked civilians who were watching you with wide eyes. You held out the action figure to the little boy who had dropped it. He eagerly took it from you, a smile lighting up his whole face.

“Thank you!”

You nodded to him and turned away, walking back into the battle zone. You were so deep in shock you didn’t register the people asking who you were, or the cellphones pointed at you.

You’d just made your worldwide debut.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Just over two weeks ago I finally found the confidence to do something I had been wanting to do for a long time (at least three years) and posted the first chapter of this. The responses I have gotten to this story are mind-blowing. Every single comment, every single one is read about twelve times before I do a happy wiggle and then read it another twelve times. My confidence is so much higher right now. My general mood is just happier. I live in the middle of nowhere and I literally have no friends or family nearby, and because of this fic and the responses, I don't feel as lonely. My days have a purpose now, I don't have to just sit and mope and suffer, I can write. I just wanted you to know, every one of you has helped me in a very real way. You've made someone's life better and I couldn't be more grateful. Thank you.

On a less sappy note, what do you think the press are gonna dub the reader when they see the footage?

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@chook007@thejourneyneverendsx@thelostallycat@inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher@kendrawr-kitkat@phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat@buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt@meganjonezzzz

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty@memanda17@krystallynx@theonelittleone

@piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard

[catbowserauthor]

TMNT Mikey 2017 Spring ABC Drabble

I originally wrote this I think last year and it was a challenge for me to keep it short! A ABC SPRING CHALLENGE contest—no more than 500 words and my prompt was mop. Naturally, I had to use Mikey

——

April’s exasperated look still was not enough to hide her amusement. Shaking her head, she commented, pushing some of her hair behind her ear “Mikey, what are you doing?”

Said teenaged turtle turned, grinning. He had apparently grown bored with moving items and putting away boxes (no big surprise, given his attention span) but still, to see rags, broken mop heads and various pieces of cloth tied to his feet was random even for him. Though, April was beginning to wonder if having expectations or limits was ever a good idea with Mikey. Faced with her intrigued look, the teen grinned “Hey, well, you said that you hadda get the whole room cleaned up so I figure I could mop the floor!” He lifted his right foot, taking a step back and drenching it in a paint tray that he’d filled with a bubbly mixture of soap. Twirling around, looking more like a ballerina than a ninja, he slid across the floor to stop in front of her, “No rule that says it hasta be boring! The Mikester does not mesh well with boring!”

April rolled her eyes but remarked “I take it that this is the reason that you have the more…liberal chores at home? Unless Raph is lying to me.”

Twirling around, keeping a firm grip on her wrist, Mikey sent them across the room, smearing a nice bubbly stream as he did so, setting the human woman down as he stopped “The Battle Nexus Champion is triumphant because he cannot be contained by society, by rules. He makes his own and emerges victorious!” He flicked his finger at the nearby stereo, letting a barrage of rock tunes and lyrics spoken so fast that April did not dare try to translate them, fire free into the room. “Besides which, you gotta have some fun in your life, Girlie!” He reminded her.

“Oh, and you’re saying I don’t?” She kept a playful warning tone to her voice but given how she and the turtles had developed into a family of sorts over the years, Mikey saw right through it, the same as if it had been Leo or Donnie teasing him. The fact that she didn’t pull away when he let her loose into a twirl was another clue.

“Not as much as you could have!” He insisted. “Think about it! What’s better? You can gripe and grumble about these stupid chores,” he dropped his voice “And Raph does plenty of that,” he grinned and released her in a simple twist across the ground, “Or you can actually make a game out of it! You hafta do it anyway so why not enjoy it?”

Catching herself on the nearby counter, the human woman gathered her balance before sizing up her green skinned friend. He had a lot of really good points and she had to admit, seeing him cleaning and dancing all at once made her remember her childhood fondly. Grabbing an intact mop, she smirked, “Shall we tango?”

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 3 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 3 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link the previous chapters. (This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.)

Summary: Bianca and Courtney continue to get to know each other. And Courtney makes a questionable choice in the hookup department.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

Courtney climbs into the wardrobe trailer on Monday morning looking a little ragged around the edges. Bianca raises an eyebrow at her, half-hoping that her weekend hookup had not gone according to plan, and immediately feeling a bit guilty for the thought.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, I just had like, the most exhausting weekend.”

“Wild parties?”

“Not exactly. So...okay, well, you know my friend, Violet came to town-”

“Yeah, I recall hearing about your burlesque dancer friend,” Bianca says with a slight edge to her voice. She ignores the tightness in her chest, walking to the rack and pulling out Courtney’s outfit for the day.

“Aaanyway, she was here with the whole dance troupe for their tour. And their show is like, X-rated. So I figured, okay, why not let a bunch of them stay over? Assuming the weekend would be filled with like, straight up debauchery and group sex and drunken shenanigans.”

Bianca turns back around, looking at her curiously.

“...And?”

“And, it was nothing like that!” Courtney sighs, exasperated. “I felt like the den mother of a damn sorority. They were the most high maintenance, shrill, annoying group of women…”

Bianca cracks up, holding the dress out for Courtney to slip over her head.

“So no orgies?”

“No! Super disappointing. I did make Violet sleep with me, though. I told her that she was getting a housing allowance, so either she puts out or pays me enough for a spa day, because I’m very tense and I need some stress relief.”

“And she chose sex?”

“Yeah, which was actually better. She’s very talented. She’s learned so many new skills since the last time we were together,” Courtney smirks, “And-”

“That’s prostitution, you know,” Bianca interrupts, happy to change the trajectory of this conversation. “Using sex as payment?”

“So? You have a problem with prostitution?” she chuckles.

“Well. I mean, if you want to get technical, it’s sort of illegal.” She zips up the dress, then begins to check the seams.

“Well, if you want to get technical, you’re married, and marriage is sort of a form of prostitution, so…” Courtney tongue pops.

“In what way?!” Bianca cries.

“Well. Who makes more money, you or Jared?”

“He does. So what?”

“Who spends more money?” Courtney asks pointedly, smirking.

“He does! You fucking twat.” Bianca crosses her arms.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really, and fuck you. He drives an Audi, and I drive a Camry. He wears $500 suits, and this?” Bianca gestures to the outfit she’s wearing. “Is from Target. I am super fucking frugal, okay? When I really wanna splurge, I get the produce from Whole Foods instead of Trader Joe’s.”

Courtney laughs, hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, you’re not a prostitute…”

“Jared spends WAY more money, actually, now that I think of it. He’s got 3 surfboards and a vintage Harley and a Gibson guitar. Now...ask me if he plays guitar. Go ahead. Ask.”

Courtney shakes her head, now laughing so hard she’s gasping for breath.

“Stop, oh my god…”

“‘Marriage is prostitution.’ I should cut off his credit cards, to be honest.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Courtney says, wiping her eyes. “He sounds super responsible.”

“No. Not in the slightest. He’s cute though, so...”

“Huh...”

“What?” Bianca narrows her eyes.

“No, just...maybe he’s the prostitute.” Courtney winks.

“You are the worst.”

***

On Wednesday, Bianca’s main task is to get a bunch of tailoring done for the upcoming week. She ropes Courtney into helping her after lunch, trying on both her and Farrah’s dresses so that she can get the hems right.

“So I'm like a human dress form?”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a problem?”

“No, just checking,” Courtney laughs.

Bianca shakes her head, kneeling down with a pincushion and getting to work.

After a few moments of silence, Courtney looks down at Bianca, trying not to stare at her cleavage.

“God. Your eyelashes are so long…”

Bianca glances up with an amused expression.

“They’re extensions.”

“Extensions? What does that mean? Like fake lashes?”

Bianca laughs.

“You’re an actress, how do you not know about eyelash extensions?”

“Well I’m a lesbian and I live in Venice. That sounds incredibly painful, though.” Courtney’s brow creases.

“They’re just, like, permanent, individual fake lashes - hair extensions for your lashes.”

“Jesus. Well, they look real.”

“That’s the idea,” Bianca flutters her lashes. “We can’t all just fall out of bed looking perfect like you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Courtney giggles.

“Oh, I don’t wear makeup, I just look like this all the time,” Bianca sighs, affecting a breathy, high-pitched Australian accent, making Courtney dissolve into fresh giggles. “You have to use a hair brush? How sad. I have little Disney birds that come in my window and arrange each strand in perfect beachy waves while I sleep-”

Courtney doubles over, gripping Bianca’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

“Stop, oh my god!” she gasps, wiping her eyes. “First of all, your Australian accent is spot on, so kudos for that. Second, you’re seeing me after Delta’s worked on my hair, so that’s not really-”

“I’ve seen you getting out of your car. It looks exactly the fucking same. Shut up.”

“Well either way, your hair looks way more Disney than mine, soooo-”

“That’s because I spend 45 minutes with a blow dryer and a straightener and a curling iron and 4 different products because god forbid I use hairspray that actually works, noooo, that kills the ozone layer.”

“Well, it’s totally enviable, and on behalf of someone with a severe lack of melanin, I thank you for considering the ozone layer,” Courtney says. “Although, I bet your hair’s beautiful without all that stuff too.”

Bianca scoffs.

“No. It’s not. Trust me.”

“Well now I’m curious. What does it look like? Is it really curly?” Courtney’s eyes glitter.

“It’s frizzy. And my point is, that most people look like shit unless they put a lot of effort into it. Hair and makeup and all that take a fucking lot of time in the morning, and it sucks, but I have to do it, to be presentable in society, but you won’t ever understand that, because, well…” Bianca gestures to Courtney’s reflection in the mirror.

Courtney rolls her eyes slightly.

“You’re way prettier than you think.”

“Oh shut up. I’m sitting here working on this hem, and you didn’t shave your legs today-”

“Or at all this week,” Courtney laughs.

“-and it doesn’t matter, because you have 3 blonde hairs on your legs. Meanwhile, I have to laser literally every inch of my body. Like, everything below the eyelashes, or I look like a werewolf.”

Courtney giggles.

“Well, if I go hairless, I look pre-pubescent. It’s kind of disturbing. At least you look like an adult woman.”

“You’re missing my point on purpose, aren’t you?”

“No, I just think, like, all that stuff is super exhausting, and it sounds like it’s exhausting for you, and so...fuck it. Why not just take a break and see what it feels like to be a normal person with no makeup and body hair and-”

“And a divorce?” Bianca challenges, arching her brow.

Courtney pauses, then says, “You think that if you didn’t laser the hair off your entire body, blow dry your hair straight, wear a full face of makeup and French manicure, your husband would divorce you? You really think he’s that shallow?”

“I mean...I don’t know, he’s never really seen me without all that, so…”

“Well, I think we need to find out.” Courtney slaps the table beside the sewing machine. “I’m willing to risk it for science.”

“You’re willing to risk my marriage?” Bianca clarifies.

“Yeah,” Courtney says with a devious grin.

“Thanks, you fucking cunt,” Bianca laughs.

***

Bianca slides under the covers, glancing over at Jared, who is glaring at his computer screen.

“Fuck!” Jared exclaims.

“What's the matter?” Bianca asks.

“This fucking spreadsheet that Willam just sent me. It's a bunch of garbage. Ever since I got promoted, I've been noticing that his work is like...everyone thinks he's this super genius, but I think that what he's really a genius in is the art of bullshit.” Jared closes his laptop with a sigh, setting it on the nightstand. “I'm gonna have to spend all morning fixing this in time for the presentation. That fucking cum stain.”

Bianca nods sympathetically, moving closer to him.

“I'm sorry babe. Although...I do remember...a really perceptive woman with very developed bullshit detectors saying something similar about Willam...was it two years ago?”

Jared groans, crossing his arms.

“Shut up.”

Bianca flings a leg over him and deepens her voice, imitating Jared.

“Bianca, don't say that. Will’s my boy, he's the best.”

“I really hate it when you fucking start with me…” Jared whines.

Bianca continues her impression, sounding as fratty as possible.

“He's got my back, babe. A total bro. He's the best in the business-”

“That's it!” Jared grabs Bianca by the waist and flings her onto her back, causing a yelp as he attacks her with kisses. “Using my own words against me, that's totally unfair.”

“I just want you to admit I was right,” Bianca breathes, as his hands wander over her body.

“Never.” He sucks on her neck, easing her panties down slowly.

“Admit it!” she giggles, sliding her arms around his shoulders.

“You're such a fucking bitch.”

She clicks her tongue.

“That's sort of beside the point.”

With a sneer, he pushes inside her, pausing briefly to ask, “Are we…?”

“You think I'd let you call me a bitch if we were making a baby?”

“Don't you want our kid to know the truth?” Jared pins her arms over her head, now thrusting harder, panting in her ear.

“Touché,” Bianca laughs, arching up against him. “I guess it takes one to know one.”

Jared glares down at her.

“Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?” he grunts through gritted teeth, body still, eyes blazing.

“Babe…” she wrenches her hand free to press it against his cheek, anxiety rising in her chest. “I’m sorry…”

He rolls away with a scoff, pulling up his underwear.

“Jared, please.” She reaches for him again. “I’m sorry, okay? I was teasing, I thought you were, too-”

“You do that all the time. Make me feel like an asshole.” He stands, shrugging her hands away, picking up his laptop and a blanket.

“I don’t mean to. I’m sorry. Really...” Her breath hitches. Why didn’t she just stop, before it got to this point? Why doesn’t she know better by now? “Please come back to bed, babe.”

With one last scoff, he stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bianca lays back down, heart racing, rubbing her eyes. Fuck.

***

The next morning, Bianca stands in front of her bathroom mirror, combing out her wet hair. She wipes some of the fog away, smiling slightly to herself when she sees her natural curls forming. For a brief moment, she considers whether to put the blow dryer away and let it air dry, loose and wild, a secret thrill rippling through her at the thought.

She jumps slightly when the door opens, dropping her comb. Jared walks over to her, silently wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck.

“Hey,” she says tentatively, still slightly unsure where his head is going to be.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I was such a fucking child last night.”

Bianca sighs with relief, leaning back against him.

“I know I’m not as smart as you. But when you say it out loud, I just--”

“Jared, that is not what I was saying, baby.” She turns around to look at him. “I think you’re brilliant, okay? It’s one of the many reasons I love you.” She strokes his face, continuing, “But I also think that you have a soft spot for your buddy. So, you overlook some of his character flaws. Which was fine when you guys were on the same level. But now you’re his boss, and you gotta get him in line. And I have no doubt that you can do it.” She tucks her face into his neck, kissing him softly, fingers trailing along his jaw.

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm…” Her hands slide around his bare shoulders. She smiles into his skin, biting at him teasingly as his fingers tighten around the silky material of her robe.

“That was kinda bossy,” he says.

“Yeah, well, that’s cause I’m a boss,” she replies, pulling her head up to look at him, an impish smirk on her face.

“I know,” he says, cupping her face, pressing her back against the counter. “You’re perfect. And you know, you’re gonna be the best mother. Because you already deal with the biggest baby in the whole world.”

She giggles, kissing him softly as he tugs on her belt, pulling her robe open.

“When are you…?”

“A couple more days.”

“Oh.” Jared lifts her onto the counter, then rests his hands on her thighs. “So, we really need to practice. Get prepared for game day.”

“Well, I do have a 1 pm call time...” She leans her head back against the mirror, whimpering slightly as his hands slide up her body, brushing her lips against his jaw.

“If that’s not a sign from god, I don’t know what is…”

***

VALENTINA: Hola! It's me, Valentina. I had fun this weekend. This may sound crazy but I think I left a hair clip at your place. I know it's dumb but I'm kind of attached to it. It has red roses on it. 🌹🌹🌹

VALENTINA: I'm sorry to be a pain. Lol

COURTNEY: It’s no problem, I'll look when I get home.

VALENTINA: OMG thank you so much. Also, if you happen to be free, my friend Enrique is having a party on Friday. You wanna be my date? 🌹

COURTNEY: Can I get back to you later in the week? We usually do night shoots on Fridays.

VALENTINA: I’m sorry, lol, I didn’t mean to be so pushy

COURTNEY: You’re not! I just don’t know what time we’re gonna wrap. I might have to roll in late looking a bit rough...

VALENTINA: Lol you’ll look gorgeous. I can't wait. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

*

“Courtney!” Adore bursts into the wardrobe trailer. “Holy shit, girl, tell me you did not sleep with that crazy bitch Valentina this weekend!”

Courtney and Bianca both turn to Adore slowly.

“Uhhh...I could tell you that, but it would be a lie.”

“Dude, what the fuck? Why would you do that?”

“Um, because she was beautiful, and...willing. And, I’m single. I dunno. It’s not like I’m marrying her, calm down.”

“Have you not heard Shea’s stories about that girl?” Adore sighs.

“...No?” Courtney ventures.

“She’s fucking nuts, bro. She used to text her 50 times a day and like, even called her office and once she-”

“Adore, you know how dramatic Shea is. She seemed like a very nice girl. We had a good time. She even made me breakfast.”

“At your house or her house?” Adore asks, crossing her arms.

“My house, why?”

“Lock your doors at night, is all I have to say.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Courtney laughs.

Adore shakes her head, exiting the trailer.

“So apparently you got laid this weekend?” Bianca says lightly. She zips up her dress, trying not to stare at the deep scratch marks covering her back and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Courtney answers casually, looking at Bianca's face in the mirror. For some reason, she’s not sure how much she wants to elaborate about her rendezvous with the beautiful Latina girl who’d caught her eye at Roosterfish. Her glittering eyes, ruby lips and deep curves. The way, in a certain light, her lovely face looked a little familiar, the way holding her close satisfied a particular ache. So she flips it around with a coy, “You?”

“No comment.” Bianca smirks at her.

“That good, huh?” Courtney chuckles.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bianca laughs, shaking her head. “You rude bitch.”

Courtney giggles while Bianca pins the straps of her dress. “Well, mine was delightful. Don’t believe Adore’s hysterics. She was...something else. Body to die for. Gorgeous smile. I spotted her across the dance floor and just…” Courtney tongue pops.

“That easy, huh?”

“Like candy from a baby,” Courtney smirks, winking at Bianca in the mirror.

Bianca clears her throat, shaking her head slightly. A notification goes off on Courtney’s phone and she looks down, frowning slightly.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Um, it’s just...I got a Facebook notification. It's kind of...strange.”

“Be a little more cryptic, it’s not like I'm working,” Bianca says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry.” Courtney holds up her phone to show Bianca the screen.

Valentina Leyva tagged you in her life event: In a Relationship with Courtney Hamilton.

Bianca raises her eyebrows. “Uhhh. When did you meet her?”

Courtney puts down the phone. “Saturday.”

Bianca whistles. “You forgot to give the baby her candy back.”

“...fuck.”

“And...it sounds like you owe Adore an apology.”

Courtney groans.

*

COURTNEY: Um. I’m not sure exactly how to say this sensitively…

VALENTINA: Ok i’m a little scared lol

COURTNEY: Yeah, uh...what’s with the Facebook thing?

VALENTINA: OHHHH! Hahaha omg sorry, that’s just me and my friends messing around. We thought it was funny. 🌹

COURTNEY: I’m probably just missing the joke

VALENTINA: Like, he said it would be cute lol

COURTNEY: It’s not

VALENTINA: Ok i said sorry, you don’t have to get weird about it, wtf

COURTNEY: I’m going to respectfully disengage from this conversation. Have a nice day!

VALENTINA: YOU are gonna “disengage”

VALENTINA: What does that even mean?

VALENTINA: Why aren’t you answering my calls???

VALENTINA: Oh I see how it is

VALENTINA: CUNT 

VALENTINA: 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

VALENTINA: Courtney, you’re being stupid, I just want to talk.

VALENTINA: I still want you to come Friday.

VALENTINA: We can work this out, okay? I don’t understand why you are being so mean. You said you wanted to see me again...

VALENTINA: PICK UP PICK UP PICK UP PICK UP

COURTNEY: Please stop calling.

VALENTINA: UR A BITCH

VALENTINA: PLEASE PICK UP

VALENTINA: Please Courtney

[leegaastories]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gaara/Rock Lee Characters: Gaara (Naruto), Rock Lee Additional Tags: Fluff, Training, Established Relationship Series: Part 3 of LeeGaa Relationship Development Summary:

Lee decides to go visit Gaara for a few day on his vacation. The first thing that he want them to do together, go train.

Every time that I come to visit Konoha, or Lee is for one reason or another in Suna, I always make sure that I get to train with him at least once. I enjoy training with him, Lee turned out to be a better teacher than I expected when we first started doing this. At first, Lee was afraid that I would break, so he kept the training light but he loosened up over time realising that I wasn’t so fragile. Still though, I often tire much faster than he does so I’ll almost always end up watching him complete his own training. I enjoy watching him train just as much as I enjoy training myself.  I’ll often times find myself fixating on one part of his body, just watching it flex and move, it was more fascinating than anything else.

Lee told me once that often after a shinobi team has completed an A or S-rank mission, they would get a mission break in which they weren’t allowed to go on any mission regardless of their health so that they can relax. Lee said it was something about not wanting their best Ninja to over-exert themselves by doing too many high rank missions in a row. That, is exactly the reason that at any moment Lee should be arriving in Suna.

“Gaaaara!” I hear Lee shout as he came running through the long gateway path in Suna’s wall.

“Hello Lee,” I say smiling when I suddenly feel myself falling to the ground only to be caught by my sand and pushed back to my feet. Lee had just tried to tackle hug me.

“I am sorry, I guess i should have slowed down a bit. I did not think i would knock you over, or well almost knock you over,” He says with a large smile on his face. Even when he is being stupid Lee still smiles, that is one thing that i really like about him.

“Before we do anything else why don’t I bring you to the room you will be staying in,” I say starting to walk to the center of the village, to the Kazekage Building. As we walk, Lee tells me about the mission he just went on, his first A-rank mission. When we reached the Kazekage Building, Lee stops in his tracks.

“Gaara, I am staying in there?” Lee asks with surprise on his face.

“Yes of course, where else would you be staying. I wouldn’t make you stay in one of the awful shinobi lodging apartments. The rooms in the Kazekage Building are much nicer. Your room will be just down the hallway from mine.” I say as i step through the doors into the building. Lee follows me the whole way up to his room not saying a word, just looking around at the simple clay building’s interior.  “Well this is your room. I put you in one with only one window so that it is not too hot for you. The door’s don’t really lock so if you ever need uninterrupted privacy just jam something under the door handle.”

“Thank you Gaara-sama, I did not expect such a nice room to stay in, and so close to yours as well.” He says bowing slightly and i just laugh at him.

“No Sama please Lee. And it’s not that nice, not nearly as nice as the room you have back in Konoha. And of course i chose a room close to mine so…” I stop, not wanting to finish that sentence out loud.

“So what Gaara?” Lee says with a curious expression on his face.

“So if i can’t sleep i can come find you,” I mutter. Lee’s only response to this was to blush and to nod as if to say that it is okay with him.

“So,” He coughs, clearly wanting to change the subject, “What do you want to do with the rest of the day Gaara?”

“Actually...I hadn’t thought about it.”

“How about we do some training!” Lee says incredibly enthusiastically.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on mission vacation, to relax?” I say shaking my head. This boy just came back from an A-rank mission and he already wants to start training.

“Yes but i cannot go a day without training unless i am absolutely physically incapable,” He says and i just laugh, he is ridiculous.

“Okay, we can go train. I have my own private section in the indoor training facilities if you want to use that,” Lee’s eyes light up at my words.

“I would love to do that, Thank you Gaara. Well then, lead the way!” He says and we start to walk back down and out towards the indoor shinobi training center.  When we entered my private training room Lee was a bit confused to see the equipment that we had. “I have never used equipment like this before? Do you usually train using this stuff?”

“Most of the time yes, but we don't have to use then if you don’t want to,” I say looking at the basic equipment. There wasn’t much, a few weights of various sizes, a pull up bar on the wall, a block on the ground, and a support column covered in thick padding. It wasn’t much, but then again i am at a very low level with taijutsu.

“What do you use this for?” Lee asks pointing to the large dense block of stone on the ground.

“Quick steps.”

“What does that mean?”

“All you do is step up on the block and then step back down, but the goal is to do it very quickly without messing up or falling over or anything. It’s basically a confined way of running up and down stairs.”

“That is a good idea, What about that?” He says pointing to the pull up bar.

“It is for doing pull ups.”

“That is interesting, i just use trees instead. I often have a problem with breaking the trees so the metal bar is a great idea!

“I agree, it does sound better, I don’t use it a lot though...” I say a bit embarrassed, i can barely do one without getting tired.

“Why not? Is it because you are not very good at it?” He says and i nod. “That is because it is too tall, especially since you are a beginner to physical training.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I were a beginner,” He says walking over and jumping slightly to grab the bar, “This would be the perfect height for me as my feet are just barely off the ground. But you are several inches shorter than me, which means that you should have this lowered until you improve.” He says with a smile.

“I will inform someone of that, thank you.”

“Now let us start our training, I presume that you use this padded column to practice punches and kick?”

“Not kicks just yet but yes.”

“Then we can start with that, let’s start with 500 punches!”

“Wait! Lee! That’s a lot me.”

“Then i will do 500 and you do 200. While I’m finishing my punches you can do 200 of thoes step things.” He says and i nod and we start our training.

100 punches, 100 quick steps, 25 push ups, and 25 crunches later i was exhausted. This was the most training i have ever done at one time and i didn’t even meet Lee’s expectations. But Lee was still going. “Lee i’m going to grab some water, just keep going i’ll be right back.”

“Good idea,” He says in between counting pull ups. He did them with his legs crossed because despite the fact that the bar was too tall for me, it was too short for him.

I quickly found two large cups and filled them at the water spout that was just outside of the shinobi training building and then returned. When i entered the room Lee was sat on the ground looking as if we was waiting for me to return.

“Are you done already Lee,” I say with a small laugh.

“No, i just would like your help with something,” He says and i just stand there waiting for him to continue, “Could you hold my feet while I do sit-ups, I have a hard time keeping my feet on the ground most of the time,” He smiles and i just laugh.

I kneel down in front of him and he gets into a sit-up position and i grab his feet. It takes more effort than i want to admit to keep his feet of the ground but it’s sort of fun to do. After several minutes he starts making faces when he comes up and i have to keep myself from laughing too much so that i don’t lose grip on his feet. At around 450 my knees start to hurt from kneeling on the hard stone ground.

“How many of these are you going to do?” I ask.

“500,” He says and i sigh in relief, it’s almost over.  

He continues doing his sit ups, and i count along in my head, but when he get to the last one he reaches his arms out and wraps them around my neck and the suddenly i was on top of him on the floor and we was hugging me tightly around my shoulders.

“Lee what are you doing?” I say burying my head into his chest out of embarrassment.

“I have looking at you for the 25 minutes so i wanted to hug you, i just had to wait until the end to do it.” He says kissing my cheek and then sitting up so that i was sitting in his lap, “was that okay?”

“Yes it was okay, i was just surprised.” I say with a smile, “Are you done with training for today Lee?”

“Yes, I think i am,” He says with a smile.

“Do you want to go get dinner then, because i am starving after all of that training,” I say as i get off of Lee’s lap and stand up.

“I would love some food,” Lee says standing up as well. I really am exhausted but it was worth it.

[shookykookie]

Ruby Red II

Pairing: You/Yoongi 

Genre: smut (gang!au)

Word Count: 4,729

Warning: smut, car accidents, swearing

Summary: You’ve been involved with Bangtan gang for a short while now, and you stole the massive ruby, Satan’s Heart, for them. None of you could predict the repercussions, or the feelings that might spring up in the midst of the violence.

A/N: This is Part II. You don’t have to read the first part to understand (wink wink), but it might help. Let me know what you think!

Part 1

“This weekend the $500 million dollar ruby, Satan’s Heart, was stolen from a mansion on the outskirts of the mansion. The owner wishes to remain anonymous, but claims that the jewel was stolen by a young woman matching the following description…”

A rough sketch flashes on screen. You sigh and shrink down in your seat.

“Hey look, Y/N, you’re on TV!”

“I can see that, Kook.”

Namjoon lips purse into a thin line, and he narrows his eye at the image. The TV goes black and he tosses the remote to the side. “You’re going to have to lay low.”

“What about the delivery across town?” you ask. Namjoon raises a hand to his mouth and rubs at his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes faraway.

“Well,” he says. “You can’t go by yourself.”

Pouting won’t change his mind. No matter how far you suck your bottom lip in, or complain, Joon won’t hear anything of it. Jungkook laughs as you continue to fuss, and Namjoon continues to ignore. You go with someone, he orders, or you don’t go at all. He is absolutely adamant.

“C’mon! I pulled off the whole Satan’s Heart gig by myself. I can handle this!”

“Absolutely not.”

“This is completely unfair!”

“It isn’t.”

“It is too!”

“I mean it this time, Y/N. We can’t have your identity compromised like this-”

“It’s just a quick drop off, no one will even see me!”

“Junseung is going to have cronies canvassing the city looking for you. It isn’t safe. Not unless someone goes with you, and even then, I don’t like it.”

“I’ll go with her.”

Yoongi. In the midst of the argument with Namjoon, you hadn’t heard him come in. But there he is, coolly leaning in the doorframe like he’d been there the whole time, watching you.

You swallow thickly. All of a sudden, your skin feels hot. The last time you and Yoongi had been alone…

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Namjoon shakes his head. Yoongi pushes himself upright, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Yoongi mutters. “Don’t you trust me?”

The two of them enter a mental debate, one you aren’t privy to. Both stand rigidly straight, eyes locked, and jaws tense. The struggle for dominance is almost visible, but you know how much Namjoon hates fighting with his friends. The minute he caves, you can see it in his eyes; they soften at the corners, and he stops trying to assert his superior height, letting his posture slacken.

“Fine. Go with her, and make sure no one sees you,” Namjoon huffs, annoyed. He walks out of the room before you can say anything else to him. That leaves you and Yoongi… and Jungkook.

The silence is heavy. Your thoughts have drifted somewhere less than innocent, but Jungkook’s presence in the room makes you feel dirty for doing so. He’s one of your closest friends, but the memory of him nearly catching you with Yoongi just a few days earlier still has the power to make you squirm.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by the realization that both of them are staring at you, waiting for a response.

“Sorry, did you say something?” you ask. Jungkook raises a brow and laughs to himself. The blush that spreads down your neck is furiously red.

“I asked what time the drop off was,” Yoongi says. His voice is deep, but quiet. Desperately, you want him to say something else, if only to hear the sleek velvet of his speech.

“Oh,” you mumble. You bring a hand up to try and hide your face. “It’s at 9.”

“We’ve got around an hour then,” Yoongi says. “We should start driving soon. Take an alternate route to ‘lie low’.”

“Right,” you second. “Of course.”

Yoongi exits the room, presumably to go get car keys and a jacket. He doesn’t look back over his shoulder, but you feel as if he did anyways. Yoongi has you weak in all sorts of ways and he hasn’t even come close enough to touch you yet.

Jungkook playfully punches your shoulder. “You alright, Y/N?”

Nothing can hide your scarlet face. To alleviate some embarrassment, you avoid his gaze and scratch the back of your neck. “Yeah totally alright.”

Jungkook gives you another little shove. “Geez, you’ve been acting so weird all week.”

You shove back with a lot more force. “I have not!”

He laughs, his nose scrunching up. When you see it, you can’t help but smile too.

“I don’t know what’s up with you,” he says. “But if you ever need to talk, just let me know.”

You nod, smiling wider. “Thanks Kookie.” The laughter dies on your lips. Even though the words are right there on the tip of your tongue, you can’t tell him what happened with Yoongi. There’s no way to express that you want to fuck the shit out of one of his best friends. It’d probably be best if you just kept quiet on the subject. Besides, you hadn’t actually slept with Yoongi yet, so what was there to tell?

“Y/N.”

Yoongi had reappeared, almost like a ghost. A really, really hot ghost. Mentally, you punched yourself in the face. On shaky legs, you rose from your seat.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “Of course.”

He pulled the car out of the underground garage and began speeding off through the streets towards the opposite side of town. There was only you, him, and the dangerous thoughts you were harboring.

From the inner console, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Here, put these on.”

You took them from him. “Why?”

“Because,” he sighed. “You’re lying low. Remember?”

“Right.” The sunglasses were tinted, leaving you squinting in the dark. A dark part of your mind pointed out he wouldn’t be able to see where you were looking once you had them on, if you were sly enough. You slide your gaze over to one of his hands rested in his lap. The last memory you have of those hands makes your breath catch. As discreetly as possible, you shift to get a better view. Those salaciously long fingers, twisting inside of you and making you unravel…

“Are we going to talk about it?”

You, once again, are caught off guard. “Talk about what?”

Yoongi gives you a smirking dollop of side-eye before that unused hand is gripping your upper thigh. “Don’t be coy.”

You look down at the way his hand is curled around your flesh, and all the blood flows directly to your core. Your bottom lip gets tugged between your teeth as you let out a soft hiss.

“Yoongi,” you whisper. “We have about five kilos of product in the back. Is this really the best time?”

He raises a brow. “I’m going to need to be carrying a lot more cocaine than that to keep my eyes off you.”

You wiggle in your seat, sliding his hand closer to where you want it. “Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road.” You’re out of breath already, and your words come out as barely a murmur. He hums in approval, and allows his fingers to gently rub you through your jeans. Weakly, you whine, and lift your hips from the seat to meet him. His featherlight touches aren’t nearly enough.

“Look at you. So needy already.”

You glance over and notice the tent in his pants. “The same could be said of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, voice gone gravelly. “Do something about it.”

Determined, you reach out and palm him through his pants. “We have a fucking deal to make, Min Yoongi. So I’m going to do that.” He meets your eyes, as they flicker back and forth from the road to your panting figure.

“And then?”

“Then we’re going to fuck each others’ brains out.”

He laughs, gums and white teeth on full display. The car goes around a curve, and an abandoned parking garage comes into view, half crumbling. “You better deal fast.”

Yoongi pulls the car inside, and slowly maneuvers the car around the bends to the lowest level of the lot. Just as anticipated, a line of black Escalades waits for your arrival at the far end. He slowly drives forward until he is about halfway there, stops the car, and flashes his headlights.

Several men exit their vehicles, and you do the same. Before you go, Yoongi reaches over to give your ass a little pat, winking. You roll your eyes. He rolls down his driver’s side window, but stays in the car. He needs to be at the wheel in case you need to make a quick getaway.

One of the men shouts across at you. “Do you have it?”

“Do you have the money?” It was hard to make out much with the sunglasses on, but you discern his nod. “Send one man across with the cash, and then I’ll hand it over.”

As instructed, one of the men begins to stride over, a briefcase in hand. You smile at the thought of the last briefcase you’d held, the one holding Satan’s Heart. Gently, he sets the suitcase on the ground a few yards away; he flashes its contents very briefly before locking it up again.

You walk around back and pop the trunk. From it, you hoist the product onto one shoulder and carry it back to the waiting man. Both of you freeze, feet away from each other.

“Kick the suitcase over,” you say.

The man shakes his head. “Not until the coke is in my hands.”

“That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? I’m carrying all this product, and all you have to do is give me the money,” you say, trying your best to impersonate Hoseok’s business voice. It must work, because the man half-heartedly nudges the briefcase across with his foot.

You drag it across the rest of the way with your own foot, and then close the gap to give him the drugs. Handing it off, your free hand reaches out to snatch up the briefcase.

“Wait just a second,” the man says. “Your face…”

Not allowing yourself to panic, you pick up the briefcase before he can stop you. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. RMon will be in contact.”

The man continues as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Are you the one whose picture they’ve been flashing on the TV? The jewel thief?”

“Of course not,” you shake your head. “That’d be ridiculous.” The man, again, is deaf to you.

“It is you! Do you know what kind of reward they’re offering for you?” he says. His leering eyes are ready to eat you alive. One arm reaches out to try and grab your shoulder but you dodge it.

“Don’t touch me,” you warn. He stalks closer, and you realize how much taller he is, looming over you.

“Where’s that ruby?”

Another step back.

“I said, where’s the ruby?”

You spin on your heel and make a dash for the car. As soon as the door shuts behind you, a bullet demolishes the passenger side mirror.

“Drive!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Yoongi whips the car around, tires squealing. Careening out of the lot, you slam against the door without the protection of the seatbelt. The sunglasses fly off your face, and get lost somewhere at your feet. Behind you, the men are scrambling to keep up.

“Are they following us?”

“They’re trying, so step on it.”

He lays the petal to the floor, and the car shoots forward through the growing dusk of the city with the engine at a dull roar. It is nothing compared to the roar of your pulse.

The thunder of their squad of Escalades fills the night as they race to catch up to you. When you peek in the rearview mirror, the yellow stretch of their headlights is not too far behind. Upon counting them, you realize there are more than you originally thought; six Escalades are tailing you.

“Yoongi, it’s time for evasive maneuvers.”

You’re thrown to the side as he takes a sharp left, cars honking at his brash move. Only five of the Escalades make it through the intersection. From what you can see, the sixth slams into the side of a semi and rolls out of sight.Then you’re darting through traffic and the sight is gone, because you’re zipping past car after car. The Escalades swerve to follow, but with how big of a car they are, it’s a lot harder to maneuver. Glancing back again, you see only four Escalades. More honks follow in your wake.

Then Yoongi hangs a sharp right onto a ramp, revving the engine to max speed, and you take off up the ramp like a jet plane, forced back flat in your seat. The car is hurdling across three lanes onto a freeway, and all you can do to grip the oh-shit handle and pray for your life. The audible crunching as metal meets metal in a crash erupts behind you. One blue car and one silver have struck and gone spinning out in a deadly dance, a whirl of color in the dark. The blue car, tires screaming, takes out one of the Escalades. The third collision inevitably leads to a fourth, then a fifth, then…

You cover your mouth in slight horror, but you know you can’t stop, or even begin to contemplate the consequences. So much for laying low.

Everywhere Yoongi drives, a sea of chaos is left behind you, glittering in the red haze of your tail lights. But eventually, there’s not a single black Escalade in sight, just the emptiness of the road behind you and the distant wail of police sirens.

He gets off at the nearest exit and whips onto a sidestreet. The car slows, and the two of you drive along, breathing heavily. It’s like you’ve just run a marathon, and the adrenaline is scorching through your veins. For who knows how long, you continue like this, just driving, making slow and steady turns whenever possible. The two of you wind through the city in snaking motions, until the buzz of the city is soft and the night is pitch dark. Yoongi slows further, rolling along the street at a snail’s pace. He eases into an open parking spot and lets the car glide to a stop, switching off the headlights. Once there, he turns the engine off with a flick of his wrist, and sits clutching the steering wheel for a few brief seconds. His knuckles have gone ashy white, or at least whiter than normal, and his pupils are blown wide. Both of you stare in shock, first out the windshield, and then at each other.

“Well that was-”

He launches himself at you, fingers lacing into your disheveled hair and pulling your face in for a burning kiss. You’re still shaky from the endeavor, but the minute his lips touch yours, you forget all about it.

Yoongi’s hands migrate from your head to your back, gripping down your body in a trail of searing heat and delicious tugs at your skin. They come to rest at your waist, but they’re restless and sneak their way up the front of your shirt. A tug at the hem signals for you to shed it, and you do. He tries to tug you closer, but the forgotten obstacle of the briefcase remains situated between you. Though it contains thousands of dollars, Yoongi tosses it into the backseat like it’s wadded up trash. He doesn’t blink when it springs open and spills mounds of cash across the seats; he’s too busy leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, neck, and collarbones.

“Y-yoongi....”

He sucks a spot onto your right collarbone, laves at it with his tongue until the blood has sprung to the surface, welling just beneath your skin in a purplish bruise. When he leans back to admire his work, he smiles.

“You look so good with my mark on you,” Yoongi chuckles. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”

“Lean the seat back.”

He wastes no time in following your order, and throws the driver’s seat back as far as it can go, throwing open his arms to welcome you. You crawl over, with some difficulty, across the middle console, and onto his lap. Straddling him, you’re forced into close proximity, with the steering wheel pressed against your back and his hands gripping your ass. His hard on presses against you, and when he squeezes, you rock forward onto it. Both of you moan, open-mouthed.

He delves back in for a kiss, gently sliding his tongue into your mouth, with a pointed pull at your hips to drag you across him. The kiss is sinful… but it’s not enough.

“You think we can move this party to the backseat?” you murmur against his lips. He smirks, takes hold of your hand, and throws open the driver’s side door.

You clamber out, and he tumbles out after you, both desperate to get at one another after waiting for what seems like such a long time. It feels dangerous, maybe even a little juvenile, that your first time with him is going to be in the back of his fancy car, away from the prying eyes of the other boys. The fact that you’d committed a series of crimes beforehand only served to make your blood pump faster, your heart beat harder against the fragile bones of your ribcage. Everything was swelling inside you: your adrenaline high, your fear of getting caught, your rampant lust.

He moves to duck you into the backseat, but the money is sprawled everywhere. When you go to brush it aside, he catches your wrist.

“Leave it,” he says softly. You shrug, and lay back. One chunk of hundreds serves as a sort of hard, papery pillow, beneath your head. The rest fan out around you.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he mutters. “Laying on a bed of money, just waiting to get fucked.”

His hands work at unbuttoning your jeans, and he slides them down your legs to leave you in just your bra and panties.

“Why don’t you come join me?” you bat your lashes, sliding one bra strap down your shoulder. It hangs loose, an offering.

“Oh I will, baby,” he shakes his head. His dark hair falls over his eyes, just to be swept back as his shirt is brought up and over head. He tosses it in the car alongside your own shirt, and makes a move to crawl in alongside you.

“Now wait just a minute,” you stop him. “Pants too.”

With a smirk, he steps back. Your gazes are locked, and his eyes never leave yours for a second as he continues. His hands slowly drag down his abs to his belt, fingers ghosting along his faint trail of hair. He unhooks the belt, and whips it off with a snap. The black leather is thrown amongst the rest of your shed clothing, and his pants follow shortly after, leaving him in just his dark boxers.

“Get in here.”

He slides inside, and shuts the door behind him. It’s just the two of you in the closed, quiet space. There’s no Namjoon, no Jungkook, and no going back.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers, laying his body overtop you. The weight of him is incredible, and your hips thrust up to try and find his, desperate for some friction. Even if you wanted to say no, and you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself. Maybe you’d regret it in the morning, but right now there was nothing you wanted more than him inside you.

“I’m sure,” you nod. “Please just fuck me.”

He dives back in, leaning on his elbows for support. The money presses against, your spine, the backs of your legs, but he’s pressing above you and it feels oh so good. The curve of his body as it rocks into you, is perfect. Sure, he’s flawed, but in the moment, every inch of creamy soft skin is heavenly.

His clothed erection rubs at your own covered heat, brushing against your clit with every thrust. You clutch at his back, nails digging red crescents into the skin of his shoulders, and he groans.

One hand of his trails down to your heaving chest, and he pulls the cup of your lacy bra down, shoving one breast up for him. His tongue swirls over your exposed nipple, then he lightly bites down on it. When his teeth sink in, you can’t stop the flurry of whimpers you expel. He reaches around your back, swimming through stacks of money to unhook your bra. It too gets flung aside, leaving you open to him. He drops his head down to pay attention to your other nipple. His fingers tweak the neglected one mercilessly. This continues in a barrage of delicious torture until you can barely stand it.

“Yoongi,” you grumble. “Don’t tease.”

His chest rumbles in laughter. “Oh baby, this isn’t teasing…” He gives another pointed rock of his hips. He’s so hard, and a spot of precum has soaked through his boxers, yet he seems unfazed.

“I’m so wet already, please,” you moan. Your hips thrust up eagerly, but he shoves them back down onto the bed of the seat, and all that money.

“Patience,” he says. “Is a virtue.”

You scoff. “I’m not very virtuous anyways.” It’s a tangle of limbs as you pull him down to you, one hand on the back of his neck. The other hand shoves into his boxers. He grunts into the kiss as you begin to pump your hand up and down his length, and you feel the underside vein throb against your palm. All of his talk of patience evaporates as he thrusts into your grip.

“If we weren’t about to do this in my backseat, I’d take you over my knee and spank you again.” The gravel of his voice makes your thighs tremble as they hook around his waist.

“If we weren’t about to do this in your backseat, I’d blow you again.” You bite at his bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth and sucking it into your mouth. Once released, he raises a hand to rub over the freshly bitten spot.

“You’re so sexy, Y/N.”

Yoongi pushes his boxers down and his erection springs free, red and prominent against his stomach. He thrusts into his hand once, twice, then reaches down to slide your panties to the side.

“Am I ever going to get that other pair of underwear back?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, but sinks into your wet heat and leaves you gasping. Any further words evaporate from your mind as you feel him stretch you out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts. You’re grateful he allows you to adjust; you’d forgotten how big he was.

“Move,” you beg. “Please move.”

He thrusts, and even that first one sends you reeling. The next has your legs tightening around his waist, drawing him deeper. His head drops into the crook of your neck, and each panting breath eggs you on. Soon you’re lifting up to meet his thrusts. You’d imagined the sex would be good, but god damn is it good.

“Yoongi, yes…” you moan. “Harder. Harder, please.”

He obliges, and snaps his hips harder to meet yours. The slap of skin on skin is exquisite, and you throw your head back against the stack of Ben Franklins.

The windows have fogged, and you’re struck by the picturesque beauty of it, the rawness of it all. Yoongi, slightly damp with sweat, is glowing in the near-nonexistent light. His eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming pleasure, and even contorted in gratification, he’s stunning. The slope of his muscular shoulders, the lean cut of his body, the red pout of his lips… your own white hot release is sneaking up on you before you know it, with Yoongi brushing against the spot inside you with every stroke.

“Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop-”

His thrusts come faster, sloppier, as he chases his own high.

“Say my name. Say it.”

“Yoongi…”

“Louder,” he orders.

“Yoongi!”

“Come around my cock. Do it. Scream my name.”

The thrusts keep coming, and the pressure keeps building, until you can hold back no longer. You come, clenching against every inch of him. He rides you through it, thrusting savagely as his own orgasm begins to wash over him. He pulls out and with a cry of your name, he comes all over your stomach. White hot ropes of his come splash over your skin, over the money. Both of you watch in fascination, then collapse onto the seats.

The lull of your collective breathing is peaceful, and you feel as if you could lay there forever. That is, until your phone begins to ring.

The two of you recognize the situation with comical panic. His eyes are wide, and so are yours. Scrambling, he finds your blaring iPhone in the pocket of your jeans and hands it to you. How were you going to tell the rest Bangtan? Were you going to tell the rest of Bangtan?

Though no one but Yoongi can see you, you find yourself wishing you could cover up before you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck is going on? Half the city is in an uproar. There was a car chase and everything,” Namjoon barks. “What happened to lying low?”

You wince and hold the phone slightly away from your ear. He is loud, and he is angry. In the background, you can hear the chorus of other voices.

“Yoongi and I ran into some trouble at the trade off,” you say slowly. It comes to your attention that you’re on speaker phone when Jin chimes in.

“Please tell me you have the money,” Jin says.

“Of course I have the money,” you roll your eyes. “I’m practically rolling in it.”

“Then where are you guys? Is Yoongi there?” a voice asks. It’s Jungkook.

“We had to, as you said, lie low. We’ve been staked out for a while to… make sure no one followed us.”

Namjoon’s sigh is clearly irritated. “Are you in the clear?”

Yoongi swipes his finger across the trail of his come, gathering it onto his hand and bringing it to your mouth. With his eyes, he asks for permission. He doesn’t need it. You suck his fingers into your mouth and lick up every drop, cleaning him.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “We’re clear.”

“Get your asses back here.”

“We’re on our way.”

You hang up the phone. As soon as the call ends, Yoongi brings you in for one final kiss.

“I just can’t get enough of you,” Yoongi says. “Maybe we don’t have to go back just yet...”

Though it kills you to do it, you shake your head. With a laugh, you say, “No, we have to go back. Jin wants his money in pristine condition, and god forbid he finds out what we’ve just defiled these dollars with.”

He laughs alongside you, but it’s bittersweet. The two of you have caused a lot of trouble, and are likely to cause more. You’re dangerous, to each other, to others, and to the group you serve. As you both gather up your clothes and get dressed, playfully knocking into one another, you’re worried it won’t last.

“I almost got shot,” you say suddenly. Yoongi pauses, pants halfway up his thighs.

“But you didn’t get shot.”

“No, but I almost did.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have let them shoot you. They’d have to go through me first.”

Yoongi doesn’t talk again until you’re both back up front, brushed up and spotless. Then, it’s only to ask you what radio station you want. You turn it up loud, and hope to drown your thoughts. The money is back in the briefcase, as clean as possible, and back on your lap. Your shirts are straightened, if a little wrinkled. The sunglasses rest on top of your head, rescued from the floor. It’s as if nothing had happened, nothing at all.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE TROUBLE WITH THE STARTUP IDEAS FOR MAKING NEW VENTURE ANIMAL

He thinks you should write it in. There are two things you have to design your language to replace the scripting language of two moderately popular systems, Emacs and Autocad, and for little glue programs in Lisp too I use it as a practical suggestion, but more powerful than any other. The company at this stage is probably the optimal state of affairs. In later stage startups the questions are about deals, or hiring, or organization. C, Java, Perl, Python, you notice this pattern if you are a Lisp hacker. But if I had to pick the worst, it would create a self-sustaining chain reaction. Which caused yet more revenue growth for Yahoo, and Amazon don't.

That's the part that really demands determination. If there is some obstacle right in front of him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong city for developing software. As Richard Feynman said, the imagination of nature is greater than the imagination of man. If your work requires you to talk to other people in the technology world not only recognize this cartoon character, but know the actual person in their company that he is modelled upon. False positives yielded by statistical filters turn out to be responsible for both Lisp's strange appearance and its most distinctive features. Most college graduates still think they have to choose the best alternative. The nine ideas are, in order of how much money Yahoo would make from each link. Most college graduates still think they have to get a job. The dangerous thing is, faking does work to some degree in fundraising, and they asked what should we do? Where is the man bites dog in that? In the software business there is an ongoing struggle between the pointy-haired boss is, right? And if you don't, no one would use it.

Users love a site that's constantly improving. When I was running a startup, it will take over your life for a lot of wild goose chases, but I've had an experience that convinced me otherwise: I spent several years living in New York. A good language, as everyone knows, should generate fast code. A successful running back doesn't just put his head down and try to run through people. When you only have a few users you can be fairly content, even if you think you could have done to catch them. An active profiler could show graphically what's happening in memory as a program's running, or even who the founders should be. This is what you end up holding an idea that contradicts the assumption you started with. We're not a replacement for venture capital funds. These two senses of knowing what to do when the teacher tells your elementary school class to add all the numbers from 1 to 100? But advancing technology has made web startups so cheap that you really can get a company airborne for $15,000. And the way to get fast code is to have a remedial character. They show us what real work looks like.

And the answer is yes, because YC is an improved version of Python. Others arrive wondering how they got in and hoping YC doesn't discover whatever mistake caused it to accept them. Languages are for programmers, and libraries are what programmers need. This force works in both phases: both in the transition from starting a company to succeeding. You'll be working on your own thing, instead of comparing each character. So when I say it would take ITA's imaginary competitor five years to duplicate something ITA could write in Lisp in three months, and if you made it you'd done your job perfectly, just as we can become wiser. It's not necessarily bad to introduce more, as long as your critical spirit doesn't outweigh your hope, you'll be able to declare the types of arguments in the bottlenecks. Later when things blow up they say I knew there was something off about him, but I didn't realize the answer till later, after I went to work there was the way they generate any other kind of code analysis that would be better for programming. Wisdom is universal, and intelligence as more closely related than we do. Mark Zuckerberg didn't succeed because he was an expert on search.

The first time I visited Google, they had about 500 people, the same status as what comes predefined. Intelligence has become increasingly important relative to wisdom because there is more room for spikes. This was a direct result of making tokens case sensitive; the Plan for Spam I hadn't had any, and I think expert hackers might be able to get some false positives. A physicist friend recently told me half his department was on Prozac. It's not surprising something like this would happen. You could translate simple Lisp programs into Python line for line. When you're launching planes they have to be. It was not until Perl 5 if then that the language was suitable for writing serious programs, and for little glue programs you can use whatever languages you want. What he's thinking is something like this would happen. They show us what real work looks like. There's no need for a Microsoft of France or Google of Germany.

But all it would have a harder time getting started, because many of the conversations YC partners have with young founders begin with the founder asking How do we. And unless you're extremely organized, a house full of stuff can be very cool to be in the grip of a project you consider your life's work from. But for someone at the top of my head, I'd say twenty. If there were a plan for introducing more syntax into Lisp, format specifiers might be able to optimize for both simultaneously. -Like atmosphere of a big company. Just not now. Anything that can be done by the compiler in a language with full support for lexical scope, and it won't work if more than one function refers to the same variable, but it requires extraordinary effort. Y Combinator is the new ideas you have while doing it.

These forces are always at work to some degree in fundraising, and they even let kids in. The problem comes when we drag the word intelligence over onto what they're measuring. Nearly all the code in any program you write quickly for some limited task: a program to automate some system administration task, or generate test data for a simulation, or convert data from one Windows app to another, sure, use whatever language does the job. I'm talking about something more mundane. Ultimately these will affect a lot more highly of Lisp if Common Lisp had powerful string libraries and good OS support. If you can't find ten Lisp hackers, then your company is probably based in the wrong city for developing software. It may also help to have persistent objects and/or language level support for lazy loading.

I'll make them all read this, and then instead of nagging them in detail, I'll just be able to say: number four! They have to, but the more ambitious ones will ordinarily be better off taking money from an investor than an employer. The company is ultimately doomed. In OO languages, you can tell investor A that this is the preferred way to solve the wrong problem, and taking forever to do it, but there's enough overlap that this remark contradicts them. But Yahoo treated programming as a commodity. As I was waiting to hear back, I found to my surprise that I was being paid for programming. You want to be a media company. The good news is, it's not necessarily because there's something wrong with you. Who you hire, how much money you raise, how you market yourself—they all depend on what you're making.

Thanks to Jeff Arnold, Sarah Harlin, Larry Finkelstein, Robert Morris, Sanjay Dastoor, and Dan Bloomberg for smelling so good.