#not really Blood it's machine oil but i wanna make sure!

[souptomatobasil]

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[nudibranchpropaganda]

Talk about your OCs!!!!!!!!!!

i desperately wanted to respond to this immediately but i had a physiology exam this morning :(( have my post exam sleep deprived caffeine induced ramblings mwah <3

there's 3 of them rn and i love them all to pieces i have gone into wayyyyyy too much detail under the read more

so there's my demon baby who currently has no name. legit just The Demon in my brain. they started as a reader insert but i genuinely fell in love with them and am probs gonna keep adding to that au for a while (keep an eye out if u liked it)

Personally i see them as genderfluid - they can shape shift at will, but tend to lean towards mma/wrestler builds (1000000% can and will fuck u standing up) and charcoal grey skin (to blend in w the smog that fills their home skies).

physical characteristics? definitely has bat wings. love thin, membranous, and slightly translucent wings. they generally have claws and sharp teeth, a tail cause its fun to whip around and provides a nice counterweight + extra arm to grab things. they change the style of their horns like some ppl change their hair colour, a personal fav are ones either like a ram's or greater kudus's, but honestly if u like a different kind they've probably worn them for a bit for sure. tall and broad no matter what. this bastard is BIG and will use it to their advantage.

they feed off emotions, there's a whole taste menu thing i could get into, but generally they feed on fear cause its most readily available. their fav is happiness. just pure joy. tastes like bubbly sunshine and keeps them satiated for weeks. they can also amplify emotions, but can't create them if they aren't already there. summoned in the stereotypical way: fire, blood, latin chant (soap was just fuckin around for a laugh). no aversion to generic holy items, they aren't evil just another species. bright light will fuck them up tho cause they are nocturnal and have "evolved" for life in the darker hours.

can be mean. can be very very mean. knows where to hit to make it hurt, will absolutely be a little cruel on occasion when hurt by something. can also be very very warm, reading emotions makes it easy for them to give ppl what they need. generally is pretty sweet though, kinda like a creme brulee - brittle hard outside that you gotta crack to get to the soft sweet inside.

when i wanna get into their headspace i listen to maneater by the blue eyed blondes, gimme by she keeps bees (thnx for the rec on that one), keep it down by migrant motel, and i like the way you die boy by black honey. the pintrest board that i dump all the vibes in

the last one is still sorta in the work shopping phase. they're a cod oc, early to mid 30s again. i know their call sign is Jaws bc they tore someones throat out with their teeth when they got pinned down during a mission. they're head hunted by laswell after the 141 is a known force for their recon and undercover work. they get pretty close to gaz and soap, but struggle initially to break into the group cause the boys are such a well oiled machine at this point and don't really want to disrupt the status quo.

there's also the protag of my other cod fic (once again i have yet to name her). she's bi, in her mid 30s, and moved out to the edge of the forest after her last long term relationship ended (have yet to decide whether it was divorce or death). she's definitely a recluse, has a little bit of a hobby farm garden going (hugelkultur ftw), and grew up on stories about how the woods used to eat people (nova scotian; apalachian for sure).

BAD relationship w/her mother. they dont speak anymore. kind enough to her neighbours, but everyone kinda thinks shes a little strange, a little offputting (same girl). big on enjoying the little moments with the people she loves, sitting on the porch and drinking tea together kinda life.

she's honestly super special to me and i love her so much. abandoned and cranky but forced to confront that physical manifestation of grief and rage inside her when she gets attacked in the home she used to share w/her wife. and then soap? just kinda working his way into her life and very quickly getting close to her and being kind and gentle and reaching out a hand for her? idk if that was how it came out but that was what i was going for :)

anyways i listened to black hole by Griff on repeat when writing that fic, also kiss with a fist by florence and the machine. alrighty aphrodite by peach pit, lost without by shane guerrette, ghosts and monsters by saint chaos, and west virginia by the builders and the butchers were some more songs that made the writing playlist for her. pintrest board if ur interested :)

they had some trouble with their last unit too, butting heads with a shitty CO/team mate (tbd). this 100% made it into their rap sheet and gave them a bit of a rep as a trouble maker, they chose to lean into it a bit though and cause some problems on purpose for assholes. they are pretty standoffish at the start, can take a while to warm up to people. not super chatty, but enjoys spending time w/friends and will just chill and listen. loyal to a fault, but not to many ppl (eventually the 141, las, a few old team mates).

they aren't close with their family, parents passed in a car accident while they were on deployment and their sister feels like they abandoned her for the military (give an oc a happy backstory challenge has been failed). playing around with the idea of them faking their death and leaving their old team behind to go undercover at one point (the angst of being recognized by someone who thought they were dead and accidentally burning that bridge tho)

disco! in the panic room by bug hunter, hey child by the x ambassadors, choke by i dont know how but they found me, bury me face down by grandson, aint lookin by the wild feathers if i end up writing them w/one of the 141. a pintrest boards 4 u to browse :)

wow that got really long, thanks for sticking with it!! im sure i'll start posting a little more about all of them as i flesh them out, once i get through the paper and presentation i have for a couple of my classes next week im gonna have wayyyyy more time to write and explore them :))))))))

[egcdeath]

unwinding

summary: On Valentine’s Day, you receive a bit of a surprise.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: valentine’s day came early this year. like... over a month early i’m actually pretty proud of this! i hope you all enjoy :) 

p.s. this is part of @syntheticavenger​‘s lyric challenge, my prompt was: So let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions (Victoria Monet ‘Moment’)

warnings: so much fluff. before you read this, ask yourself (and your dentist) if you’re okay with getting a few cavities.

Being engaged to a fugitive from the law meant a few things.

For starters, your fiancé was almost never home, and when he was home, he wasn’t there for long. Whether it be a 3 AM knock on the door from Natasha, or soft and apologetic eyes bidding you farewell after a 4 day tryst, everything always seemed to end too soon.

The second being that you often had little to no warning when he was coming home, leaving you to go on a mad dash to put on something nice before your partner arrived at your front door. Between random messages from burner phones, and random deliveries of local goods to your door, you were often given short notice of when you’d be able to see Steve again.

Finally, despite his best efforts, Steve was frequently absent from holidays that you used to gleefully celebrate together.

As the soft clicks of the clock increased, and night drew nearer, you feared that your Valentine’s Day would end the same as the aforementioned days, yet, after hearing the chime of your doorbell reverberate through your home, you were filled with a semblance of hope.

You all but skipped down to your door to see what (or who) had arrived, and lit up with glee when you were handed a bouquet of yellow roses with a printed note attached to it.

You didn’t think I forgot about my best girl, did you? Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear. I’ll see you in an hour.

p.s. I just learned that yellow roses represent welcoming someone back, isn’t that nifty?

-S

You couldn’t help but to grin at the note, quickly thanking the delivery person, then bolting upstairs to prepare for Steve’s homecoming.

——

After debating with yourself about which candle scent Steve would enjoy smelling most, and filling up your oversized bathtub with a cocktail of soap, essential oils, and an overpriced bath bomb, you heard the door ring once again. This time, you had a good idea of who you’d be seeing. Upon opening the door, you were far from disappointed.

In the doorway stood your greek god of a fiancé, a lopsided grin on his face despite the scratches, bruises, and dried blood that seemed to litter his body. You immediately reached up to wrap him in a tight embrace and he gladly accepted it.

“Steve!” You cheered, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled, and you felt tear stains begin to latch onto his suit. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, before lightly pushing you further into the house.

“You have no idea of how much I missed you too,” said Steve in response. “I never wanna leave you again.”

At this, you somehow managed to squeeze him tighter, and he let out a soft grunt, screwing his face up. “Are you okay?” You asked before letting him go completely. “Take off the suit, let me take care of you.”

----

That’s how you ended up soaking in a bathtub with Steve, running your hands up and down his chest while he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. It became more and more apparent with every second that he was completely exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Now usually, you liked to spoil your man when he came back home, but after seeing his pure exhaustion, you decided to go all out. If anyone deserved a few hours of pure relaxation, it was certainly Steve.

You stirred and sat up, sloshing around the purple water that had been dyed by the aforementioned bath bomb, and attempted to readjust yourself so that you could at least make eye contact with Steve, who had now opened his eyes from your sudden movement.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the prior comfortable silence, and running a large hand through your hair.

“How about we unwind. Like, really, really unwind. The whole nine yards. I completely meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think that just a bath is gonna cut it,” you hummed while wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, attempting to bring your faces closer together.

“Hmm,” Steve attempted to look pensive, “Only if you insist.” At that, he gave you a toothy smile, then leaned in to close the gap between the two of you, and peck your lips.

Boy, was Steve in for it.

----

Sometime after the bath water eventually became unbearably cold, and your skin was so pruny that you swore it’d slip off, the two of you exited the bath.

The next task you set out to complete was a deep clean of your faces, which could only be accomplished with the help of a peel off face mask. You stood at your bathroom countertop and plugged in a facial steamer after filling the bottom opening.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked with a slight lisp, as he was currently flossing his pearly teeth.

“It’s a facial steaming thing. It’ll be good for your pores before the face mask, or some shit like that,” you stood back and allowed the small machine to make some strange noises as it started up.

Steve tossed the string into a trashcan before leaning over the counter and examining it, giving you the opportunity to press a button and turn the device on.

“What the hell was that?” He immediately recoiled at the sudden puff of steam, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can’t believe thee Captain America, who fights aliens and takes down governments on the regular is afraid of a little steam machine.”

“Hey, everyone gets startled sometimes,” he turned his head to give you a little pout. “How ‘bout you do it first, and show me how it’s done,” Steve stepped aside at this.

You shrugged a bit and nodded, then took his place at the sink to demonstrate how exactly to steam your face. After observing you for a few minutes, Steve motioned for you to move, and as you did, he made sure to give you a little ass squeeze, gaining him a side eye from you as a response.

“Just put your head right…. there,” you gently pushed his head down, then once his head was in the proper position, you pressed the button that turned the machine on.

“This feels kinda weird. It’s like, tickling me,” he mumbled into the machine while you reached into your medicine cabinet to grab a peel off face mask. Steve began to move his face back, but you shook your head and tutted.

“I mean, that’s kind of the point. Your pores need this. So keep that head down, big boy,” you giggled, beginning to apply the charcoal goop to your face while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Do they, though?”

“Yes! Those poor cells have probably been through hell and back with all of that fighting and… avenging you do.”

“You’re lucky that I love you. But know that I expect something in return for this hard work.”

You lovingly scoffed at this, but were pleased that Steve had found a reason to finally stop complaining.

Once a decent amount of time passed, Steve lifted his face and used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away some of the dampness.

“Here,” you said softly, grabbing a towel, and softly patting his face with it. “Now the fun part,” you began to apply the facemask to Steve’s face, and he seemed to have no complaints.

“Hey, this feels pretty nice!” He exclaimed.

“Unless you want me to get this all over your beard, I suggest you move your face a little less,” you commented while putting the last of the mask on his left cheek.

He opened his mouth to respond, but decided it wasn’t exactly worth the risk of getting a strange substance in his sensitive facial hair. You finished up putting on the mask, then rinsed your hands in the sink while Steve checked his face out. “Ooo, I can feel it exfoliating already. Are you tingling too?”

You smiled fondly at him, then shook your head and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Since you were such a good sport, I think you deserve a little treat.” You all but dragged him out of the ensuite, grabbing a fresh towel on your way out, and setting it down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demanded. “Then lay on the bed face down. Ass up. I’ll be back in a minute.” You winked suggestively at him, then went back into your bathroom to search for the lavender scented body oil hiding in a cabinet.

When you arrived back in the bedroom, you were not disappointed by the sight of Steve with his sculpted back and perky ass out. You allowed yourself a moment to check him out before you spoke. “Hey honey…” you drawled out in a faux sultry tone. “A little birdy told me that you’ve got some sore muscles from all that crime fighting you’re doing…” You ran your hand up and down Steve’s back, and you felt his back heave as he attempted to hold back his laughter.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked, not even trying to hide his chortling.

“Shhh, don’t think. Just let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions,” you poured a bit of the oil in your hands, warmed it up, then placed your hands on his back. Steve involuntarily let out a full body shudder, and you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself with satisfaction. “Seriously though, try to relax,” you began to knead his upper back.

Steve let out a shaky sigh, and relaxed into your soft mattress. Although the tone of the massage started as a joke, he was feeling more relaxed by the second. Then those seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then… hours? Maybe even days. The point is, Steve fell asleep. Then woke up to the familiar tone of a phone alarm, and a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Hey, you can sleep later. It’s time to take off our masks.” You reminded him. “Meet me in the bathroom, but get somewhat decent first.” You gave a little squeeze to his shoulder before walking off.

Once Steve met you in the bathroom, he made a beeline to the toilet and sat down on top of the lid. “Will you take it off for me? I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you,” you teased, referencing his words from earlier before you leaned down to his level. You picked at a piece of the mask on his forehead, and began to peel it back, watching Steve screw his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ow, what the fuck, Y/N,” he whined, giving you a little pout.

“I’m sorry. Just think of how fresh your skin will be after this, though. You’ll look so dewy, people will think you just came out of the ice.” You moved to remove the piece on his nose, and gained a similar response.

“Ouch! Double ouch. That was way too soon. Why can’t you be nice to me while you’re peeling off my face?” Steve looked deep into your soul while you peeled around the rest of his face, and you couldn’t help but internally melt a little.

“I only tease because I care. And I’m pulling your skin off because I care even more,” you finished up pulling the last of the mask off, then pressed the back of your hand up to some red parts of his face. “All done. You look like a whole new man, Stevie.”

You stepped back so he could stand up and look at himself in the mirror, and he rotated his face back and forth so he could examine himself.

“You’re so right, Y/N. Stark and the government will never catch me when I look like this,” he teased.

“I’m just a miracle worker, I guess.”

“Well is this miracle worker ready to head to bed? All this self care has been fun and all, but…”

“Say less,” you grabbed Steve’s hand once again, and paraded him out to your bedroom, before flopping on the bed theatrically, and grinning when Steve followed suit.

You rolled on top of your starfished fiancé, and kissed him passionately, threading your fingers through his long, sandy hair and sighing contentedly. He turned his head slightly for breath, then began to speak again.

“What I was saying was,” he said breathlessly, “All of this self care has been fun and all, but now I think it’s time that I show you how I unwind.”

[butwhyduh]

Sickening

You looked at the blood in your sink. It was becoming sticky and rust colored at the edge. It probably wasn’t a lot but it certainly looked like it. The fact that you weren’t exactly sure who’s it was made you feel sick. You closed your eyes and grabbed some towels to clean it.

After spraying your sink heavily with antiseptic, you scrubbed your hands clean and left the room. Your boyfriend laid out on the couch. Normally you found it a little funny the way his long body would hang over the arm. Now you were worried.

“Jason,” you asked. What is going on? He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I got in a fight. It’s no big deal. You know how assholes in Gotham are,” he said. As if to emphasize his point, the sound of police sirens sounded close by. Yeah, this place was rough.

And Jason certainly looked like he had recently been in a fight. His knuckles were red and raw. He had a bruise blooming on his forearm. And his grey shirt had little specks of black that you couldn’t help but wonder was blood.

“Why are you always covered in bruises? Is that the assholes in Gotham?” You asked, sitting on the coffee table.

“You could say that,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess people just want to punch me. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a bath,” you said. “I’ll throw your clothing in the wash.”

“I’m fine-“

“You’re covered in blood and I’m not sure it’s yours,” you said. Jason slowly rose from the couch and you see that he favored one shoulder over the other one when pushing up. Probably also bruised. Or worse.

He all but stumbled into the bathroom. You started a hot bath. Your small apartment didn’t have a shower attachment. Jason roughly pushed off his boots before grimacing as he pulled off his shirt and threw it in your tiny washing machine. That one was a gift from him that somehow your landlord was totally cool with despite being a complete ass.

His shoulder had nasty red and purple splotches of bruises and there was a small bloody area. He shoved his belt open and pushed off his pants and socks. Jason slid into the tub. He groaned. His long leg had his knees sticking out of the water almost comically.

You bent down and sat on the old tile floor. Someone, probably in the 1920s or something, had out tiny little white hexagon tiles all over the floor next to the claw foot tub. You grabbed a cup and started pouring water on Jason’s chest. He hissed before relaxing. Steam from the tub rose in the cold room.

“I worry about you. Worry what you’re doing. Why you won’t tell me what you’re doing. That you’re in trouble or something. Do you owe a gang money or something? Who hit you?” You asked softly. Deathstroke, Jason thought but he certainly couldn’t tell you that. His hard look soften a little.

“I don’t owe a gang money. Nothin like that,” he said. He couldn’t help but look at your face. You were too pretty, too innocent, too good for his world. He didn’t want you in this. Hell, he shouldn’t have talked to you in the first place because no one lasted long in his life. Jason knew that taking you on a date had been selfish. And everything after that was him being too weak to do the right damn thing.

You took the cup and poured water over his hair. The slight pink color had you grimacing. You didn’t push your questions. It was something Jason loved about you. He was a hard nut to crack and usually what worked best was time and space.

You grabbed your shampoo rather than Jason’s to wash his hair. There was no way that you were going to use his ‘mountain bear scented 4 in one shampoo, conditioner, body wash, motor oil’ when trying to pamper him.

You’d never washed his hair before. He’d definitely never let anyone close to washing him. Shower sex, great. But never something non-sexual and intimate as just being bathed. You ran your fingers through his hair letting the soap rub in. Jason literally felt goosebumps on his skin and he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. You were the only person that he let touch him and high key, this was the best relaxation he’s ever remembered feeling. You ran your hands through his hair longer that necessary but you could tell that he wasn’t complaining. He groaned a little.

You poured the water over his head and was pleasantly surprised that the water was soapy but clear. At least there wasn’t a lot of blood in his hair. Jason bent and washed his face in the water. He had more stubble growing than he usually did.

“Do you wanna shave your face? I can do it,” you offered. For a fraction of a second his brow creased before he gave you a half smile.

“Not today. I’m good. Thank you,” Jason said holding your hand. He couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t trust anyone with any kind of blade near his face.

“Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on,” You said reaching a hand to his other cheek. His jaw clenched a little and his eyes almost looked hurt. He was thinking of all the people who had died because they knew a secret. Other vigilantes who’d lost their entire families for knowing their secret identity. But at the same time, Jason knew that you wouldn’t stay around forever and the lies were growing. He was going to do one more little selfish thing. He sighed deeply.

“I’ve gotta tell you something but I don’t want to scare you,” he said and his eyes showed so much worry and fear. He genuinely thought he might lose you over this.

“Scare me? Jay, what are you talking about?” You said confused. He inhaled nervously.

“I- I’m Red Hood! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to say it so loud,” he said. Jason’s eyes searched your face. Your eyes were wide and you were frozen. His breath was all over the place in absolute fear. It was only a few seconds but he prayed for you to speak.

“Did you just say that you’re Red Hood?” You said faintly. Red Hood was infamous. Brutally murdered gang members, rapists, and traffickers. Even once famously fought the dark knight himself. The one continued theme of everything you heard: cold, cruel, and highly deadly. If you saw Red Hood, it was probably the worst day of your life, if not your last.

“Uh... yeah? Yes.” He gulped and watched you. His blue eyes were so round and worried.

“No. I can’t believe that,” you said. Jason, who would read Jane Eyr to you, that fed stray cats outside of the apartment, and was literally the sweetest boyfriend couldn’t be this killer. He looked down with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m Red Hood. That’s me. If you don’t believe me, there is a Glock 26 Gen 4 strapped to my bedside table. There are a few more around,” he said motioning around the apartment.

“You keep stuff here?” You asked with a mad look. Your head was spinning.

“No. Just some protection. None of the Hood stuff is ever here. I don’t want anything that could be found in this apartment. All the stuff here is new and never fired besides a few practice rounds. I try to be as safe as possible so you are never in danger,” he emphasized. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. The only movement was Jason’s fingers running along your hand.

“Why? Why do you do it? Be the Red Hood?” You asked finally. He expected that question but not right away.

“I should probably tell you how it started,” Jason said and he didn’t hold back. He told you about his parents, attempting to steal the rims from the batmobile, becoming Bruce Wayne’s ward, becoming Robin, being killed by the Joker, the lazareth pit, and becoming the Red Hood. By the time he was done, the water was cold and your legs were numb. “That’s why I have bruises and scars. Why I leave sometimes or miss dates.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. He gave you a look of confusion. What could you possibly be sorry for? “You shouldn’t have gone through that. You shouldn’t have needed to hide it from me. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t scare you? You don’t want to run from a murderer?” Jason asked. His eyes searched yours for signs of fear or disgust.

“Is it really murder if they are evil? Or justice?” You said slowly and he winced at that word. Bruce certainly wouldn’t agree. “Every time I hear the question ‘would you kill baby Hitler’ I would. Without question. I would shoot a baby because I would be thinking about 6 million Jews and unknown others that died because of him. The bad guys always get out and make things so much worse.

“You’re going to have to tell me where all the weapons are here. I’m paranoid that I’m going to reach in the couch and grab a sword,” you said with a laugh, standing up. Sure, you were shocked. But that wasn’t going to make you run screaming into the night. Or maybe you were in shock? You’d find out in the morning.

“Swords are more my brother’s thing,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll show you. I’ve been wanting to teach you some self defense too.”

“We’ll get back to your brother being into swords later. But first, let’s get you out of that wet ass tub and into bed. Because I can’t process any more information tonight,” you said handing Jason a towel. He obviously favored his right shoulder when dressing in sweatpants before coming to the bed where he flopped down. The lights in the bathroom flickered and you rolled your eyes. That’s Gotham for you.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow,” Jason said quietly.

“Nevermind that. Do you want an ice pack?”

“No. I want you,” he said and you smiled a little before crawling in the bed. Jason moved around to lay with his head next to your chest snuggling close. It was almost comical the way the big man hugged you and laid in your arms. He needed to be close to you even though your arm on his waist made him clench in pain for a second before you moved to a better position.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly. “You’re way too nice to me. Almost gullible. Like Baby, you live this way?” he said with a smile. His sarcastic defense was back up. You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe I’ve got a thing for the whole bad boy thing. Or that I know last week, you had cereal with water and honestly, that’s the ultimate weakness,” you said back and he gave you a rare grin.

“We were out of milk. Like what was I gonna do? Eat it dry? No.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and he grimaced.

“Sorry. We should get some sleep. It’s super late,” you said.

“Yeah, sleep. Sounds great,” he said already drowsy. “I fucking love you,” he whispered before falling asleep.

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

--

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess. 

It’s as if he’s been here before. 

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving. 

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride. 

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks. 

Catching on. 

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly. 

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope. 

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this. 

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck. 

Which should be gross, but. 

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck. 

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away. 

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side. 

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?” 

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm. 

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

--

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen. 

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster. 

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly. 

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.” 

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway. 

Steve holds his breath. 

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost. 

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes. 

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous. 

He doesn’t. 

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion. 

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity. 

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope. 

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.” 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner. 

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this. 

--

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but. 

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe. 

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window. 

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act. 

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?” 

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked. 

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. ��I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach. 

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there. 

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had. 

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking. 

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so. 

Steve gives Billy the shirt too. 

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil. 

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve. 

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.” 

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

--

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone. 

Steve leans into the touch anyway. 

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say. 

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.” 

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue. 

God hovering over the surface of the deep. 

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above. 

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again. 

How he can be taken apart. 

“No such thing.” 

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead. 

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him. 

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more. 

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another. 

It feels right. 

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward. 

Into an embrace. 

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and  and Steve.

Goes down easy.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 28

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Hulk interaction Hulk interaction Hulk interaction. Plot is thickening. Feelings. Operation Baby Thief! A wild Coulson appears. Lokireader besties <3 There's just a lot going on.

Bruce hulked out within minutes of my confession.

As I stood in the middle of the common room, partially hidden behind Loki and scrunching the fabric of my hoodie, I had no choice but to observe the reactions of various Avengers to the fact someone might have... Predictably, Sam, Tony and Stephen looked like kicked puppies. I trusted Loki to handle that part. Steve, Bucky and Natasha had murder on their mind and Thor, Pietro just stared at me, aghast.

I noticed the tinge of green before anybody else, perhaps, because I'd been used to automatically seek comfort from Bruce. My interactions with Hulk, however brief and few and in-between, were positive. As much as they could be with a someone's alter-ego that possessed the emotional intelligence of a twelve year old. So I could safely say that what startled me was the noise of Bruce transforming and not the Hulk himself.

The Hulk growled, zeroing in on me - I remembered of Loki, who stood frozen, and their mutual disregard. The decision was prompt - I stepped out from behind the Asgardian, waving shyly at the large green creature. He was LARGE. Like, I could comfortably sit on one of his shoulders.

"Hey, Hulk. I'm alright, don't worry big guy," I took unhurried steps towards the agitated creature. He seemed to be satisfied with my statement, giving me another once over and growling quietly in the back of his throat. An idea struck me: "Wanna get out of here? The gym has more space, we can sit and talk there."

The stares I was getting were downright incredulous. Here I was, an average human being, fearlessly making my way over to the destruction machine that was the Hulk. I knew he wouldn't hurt me - on purpose.

"No," He growled. "We find bad man. Then Hulk smash." The green creature raised, I had to admit, valid points.

"It's going to be pretty boring though. We have to sort through the security footage, then probably traffic cams, then hold Steve back from going in there in Terminator mode..." I listed off all the logical steps of the investigation until I reached the Hulk. My neck was going to get a crick in it from tilting it so I could see his face. "I'd rather..." I didn't get to finish my sentence as I was suddenly picked up. One large hand gently cradled me to Hulk's chest, akin to a kitten, the other hand landing right under my butt.

I heard a collective exhale from the team, acutely aware of the way they were eyeing me and Hulk.

"Boring," The green creature agreed. His face briefly contorted in what I perceived to be an intense thought process. "Necessary." The word had to come from Bruce; it slipped out with difficulty off the Hulk's tongue, stiff.

"Not you too, big guy," I giggled-slash-groaned, giving a playful slap to the hand wrapped around me. "Fine. Let's get this over with." I looked around in search of a spot for Hulk to park his butt somewhere. The ceiling was barely tall enough for him to comfortably stand.

I needn't have worried as he simply sat down cross-legged right where he stood, still holding me to his chest. "Now," He announced, looking expectantly at Tony.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, you're right, big guy. Let's find this sonuvabitch." Tense snorts and sounds of agreement filled the room, drowning out the noise of Tony tapping on his keyboard and communicating with Friday.

I poked Hulk in one green, large finger. "Maybe I could sit on your shoulder?"

He nodded, letting me crawl all over his green, hard chest and arms to sit on the large expanse of his left shoulder. It was comfortable as far as shoulders go; inwardly, I squeed like a mad woman. I was friends with the Hulk and I was sitting on his shoulder! Lost in my fangirling, I absentmindedly began messing with his dark hair, only noticing it when satisfied rumbling started coming from his chest. The Hulk was... Purring?

"Puny Banner upset," Hulk declared shortly after the team found the man who drugged me and started tracking his movements. It wasn't someone who'd been invited to the party, which meant there was a serious security breach - it was all hands on deck kind of situation.

"Yeah, I can understand that. I'm pretty upset too, the hangover I got was terrible, I threw up in Loki's apartment," I said, frowning. "And my boys are going to mope now," I rolled my eyes.

"Banner says he will talk with them," Hulk replied, placing hand over my legs. "Hulk will help Banner."

I couldn't help it, I snorted. "Gonna smash some common sense into them?" He grinned at me, too mischievous for someone who was described to be a mindless destruction machine. "I think they're beyond that."

"I can hear you two talking shit about me and I do not appreciate it," Tony piped up suddenly, shooting us a hurt look. To be fair, his shoulders looked considerably less tense and the cloud over his face had dissipated by a little bit. Me and Hulk managed to erase at least some of the guilt away. I think. Stephen, however, still remained frowning and closed-off.

"You're stupid, Tony." Hulk answered, sounding a little bit smug. I gaped at the exchange together with Natasha and Steve. It seemed like Hulk's sense of... Humor was a novelty.

"Hey, don't pick on my dumbass white boys," I chastised the green... Man, side-eyeing him. "Only I can pick on them. If someone else does it, I'mma throw hands if I have to."

"Puny," Hulk replied petulantly, poking me with a finger, making me sway in my spot. I rolled my eyes fondly, settling in to mess with his hair again for the sake of having something to do with my hands. The brief exchange helped to get my overactive brain off the case but the tranquility didn't last very long.

Natasha and Bucky left to interrogate the guards responsible for the security breach, Loki shooting me an apologetic look and following the two. I smiled back, knowing the Asgardian wasn't fully comfortable being around the Hulk due to his previous experiences with the big guy.

"Wait, hold on. That guy. I know that guy." As an array of faces appeared on the large screen, a familiar pair of mismatched eyes stared at me from it. Hulk tensed under me and the team turned towards me expectantly as I shrunk slightly under their combined gaze. "The one with anisocoria - with the weird eyes. He works at a coffee shop near my school, actually he only started working recently, few months ago. He tried to flirt with me but Peter said he felt weird about the guy so I stopped going to that café." I explained the situation as eloquently as I could, seeing Clint's eyes widen at my story.

"Are you sure?" Stephen Strange raised an eyebrow. "Because that man is a mercenary that we have been looking for months."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "A what now?" My ears were ringing. Hulk growled quietly under me, evidently sensing my distress.

"A hired man," Clint typed on his phone rapidly. "Mostly sells not-so-harmless trinkets on the black market. Hydra, AIM, you name it. Anything for the highest bidder." Clint muttered. "I'm calling Peter, maybe he can tell us something more. This is an Avengers level threat." The Hawk's jaw was firm and his face was hard.

"Already on it," Tony looked shaken. I understood him - someone like that had invaded his tower, his home. Hell, I myself felt like someone had spit right in my soul. It was my home, too, to some extent.

"Let me down please, Tony needs a hug," I whispered to the Hulk, who begrudgingly did as I requested. I padded over to Tony, wrapping myself around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He always was my comfort; expensive cologne and motor oil filled my senses as my arms clutched at his chest from behind. I didn't expect reprocitation - Tony wasn't the one for emotional vulnerability.

"He could have gotten you," He whispered, almost inaudibly, fingers shaking where they typed rapid-fire commands.

"Bold of you to assume I would have gone down without a fight," I answered as calmly as I could. "He is either dumb, or reckless or has nothing to lose. Planning a coup in the middle of your tower..."

"Or he's showing us that he can just do that," Clint supplied unhelpfully. "The guard who let him in just has been found dead and his family is missing. Natasha texted, she's calling in SHIELD. This is now Operation Baby Thief."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my lips. "Baby Thief, really?"

"Nobody's stealing Princess," Tony barked, finally turning his head and pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek. "Not if I have to do anything with it."

"I will make sure the pathetic mortal scum never walks," Thor finally piped up, voice low. In the distance, the harsh noise of thunder and pouring rain echoed through the city.

I frowned but withdrew from Tony, finally feeling well enough to do something. My hands itched to help and as appealing as snuggling with Hulk appeared, my brain had gone straight into overdrive. "Should we take a blood sample to find out what he dosed me with? It's not Roofies, and the hangover is too shitty for it to be anything like Ecstasy." I mused out loud, pacing in the small space between the Hulk and the nearest wall.

"That is a sensible idea," Doctor Strange piped up, giving me an appreciative look. "We'll wait for Romanoff," One angry look at his own scarred, shaking hands, Stephen went back to the book he was reading. He needed a hug, too, I decided.

"Puny Banner will do it," Hulk suddenly announced, reaching out for me.

I obliged, giving the green giant a hug. "Maybe we can go play in Central Park once it's warmer, whatcha think?" I looked up at him, brain just so full of different things. Ideas bounced off one another like ping pong balls.

The Hulk grinned and... Well, I didn't see the transformation, my eyes shut themselves as soon as I felt the flesh under my palms begin to shrink and expand. It wasn't that I was afraid, rather, the feeling was so bizarre that my racing brain had to automatically shut down in fears of being overstimulated.

"Hi," Bruce supplied meekly, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. I didn't resist the urge to kiss and hold him close, and we stood there with him holding up his pants with one hand and clutching my hoodie with the other until Tony cleared his throat.

"You good, Brucie-bear?" The engineer gave a distracted smile towards us, not taking his eyes off the keyboard.

"Yes, Tones," The scientist replied easily, adding with a frown: "I'm glad me and Hulk finally agree on something." With that, he departed in the search of normal pants and the tools needed to acquire my blood sample.

I gave it without much fuss, waving to Bucky, Natasha and Loki that had returned with a middle-aged, balding man in tow. The shared look of amusement between Steve and Bucky and the man's starry-eyed look towards the Captain let me deduce it was one Agent Coulson, the very same man Tony couldn't stop telling stories about, the one with the Captain America trading cards.

So, mayhaps, me taking place in Stephen's lap while Bruce filled up three whole vials full of my blood wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about it. Tony found it amusing, Steve was shaking his head in fond annoyance and Stephen himself struggled to maintain his indifference, yet, the blush betrayed him.

"Agent, what brings you to our humble abode?" Tony snorted, seeing the man raise an eyebrow at the display of affection.

"Operation Baby Thief," Coulson replied with a sigh. "I see the Baby is secure. Keep it that way." Oh, the man was cheeky. I liked him already.

"The Baby has a Tony, a Sorcerer Supreme and a Hulk," I retorted haughtily. "And a functional brain. Fuck that guy."

"Indeed," Coulson snorted. "Tell me, what do you know about the Hamptons incident?"

I blanched, immediately tensing. Bruce withdrew the needle and pressed a bandage over the wound, running gentle fingers over my arm. Everybody must've noticed my surprise, turning to me with their faces full of expectation. Stephen's touch was calming, slightly trembling at the nape of my neck.

"Not much, to be honest. I was about thirteen when it happened and my mother tried to hide it from me," I chewed on my lip, looking away. "What I managed to find out is that there was a robbery that resulted in two deaths, my father being one of the suspects because he was high as hell on coke and he was found sleeping in the same room as the open gun safe," I recalled the memories of mother angrily screaming at dad, calling her law firm colleagues late at night. "I don't need a law degree to know the evidence was flimsy. Dad got a drug charge, his buddies got the same and both the killer and the gun were never found." I exhaled loudly, tapping my foot on the floor, supressing the need to pace.

Coulson nodded, opening a thin manila folder and producing an image of a small, wooden box with carvings that looked like runes on it. "Have you seen this object?"

I felt my blood run cold, my vision swam. "Yes," I swallowed dryly. "That's my end-of-the-world box. I buried it in my grandparents' backyard two years ago."

"End of the world?" Coulson asked, alarmed. "Did you open it?"

"No," I shook my head negative. "I found it in my room at one point and every time I looked at it, it felt... Wrong. Like it was a glitch in a computer game. I couldn't sleep, so I stuck it in my closet and that gave me terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis. I took it with me when I went to visit Gramps and buried it three feet deep under the cherry tree." My hands were shaking once again; I had forgotten about the box but my body remembered the primal, untameable terror that I experienced in it's proximity. At fourteen years old, I just thought I had an overactive imagination or something, too many horror movies, hormonal storms.

"That is a magical artifact," Stephen's voice was quiet and concerned. "A very dangerous, destructive at that. How long were you in it's presence?"

"About nine months, give or take."

"And you didn't open it once, not even a little bit?" Tony had caught on the trend, almost a hysterical edge to his voice.

"No, and I think I know why," I looked to the side. "I saw Wanda on the TV, and, like, magic was confirmed to be real, so I guess I was sure whatever is in there, it wasn't good. During that time, my parents told me I was sleepwalking but I can't remember any of it. I might have wanted to get that box to someone of your... Specialty," I briefly messed with the sleeve of Stephen's shirt, exhaling loudly when his hand grasped mine and held it with care. "I think that box messed with my head... Because I swear that I had no recollection of it until you brought it up," I realized suddenly, my eyes shooting up in blind panic. What else have I forgotten?!

"That is astonishing," Loki's baritone exclaimed. "Nine months is a long time to resist the pull of such a strong artifact." My best friend stated with a great deal of respect.

People in the room started talking all at once. Stephen and Tony declared I needed to get checked out by a professional - Tony meaning s doctor and Stephen meaning a healer of the magical kind; Bruce scooted over and pulled my frozen body in a solid hug; Steve and Bucky planned out to get the box from my grandparents' house, debating whether to take Loki or Thor with them; the SHIELD part of the team discussing the intel and further plans to catch the rogue mercenary.

The door opened quietly.

"Hi everybody, hello Mr. Stark," Peter was disheveled, his ratty backpack in one hand and an enormous sandwich in another. "Got here as fast as I could. What's up?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[the-crows-typist]

riddle and floyd ficlet please! doesn’t need to be romantic. the word is “spoon”!

The Possibilities Are Endless

���The rules are meant to be broken.”

CW: potential OOC and discussion of medicine

“That’s not the right way to use a spoon, Floyd.”

Octanivelle and Heartslabyul had gotten closer, its students growing connection between each other and forming bonds of friendship and friendly camaraderie. One could say that the two dorm were alike, very goal oriented and hardworking, very cunning and observant.  While Riddle was happy for this growth, there was a part of him that loathed the fact that he had to spend time with some less than savory company.

“Eh? It makes cake easier to eat!”

Floyd Leech was an enigma, an unknown, an annoying unknown to be exact. There was never a time Floyd and he were running after each other nor was there any time that Floyd would leave him be, it was nothing but chaos around him.

“It still isn’t right.”

Riddle was very uptight no matter what the situation may be and no matter how plain or how extravagant the event was. To Floyd, Riddle was too serious, too angry. He was his polar opposite and boy, was it fun to see what buttons can be pushed to see that normally calm and collect face heat up and turn the brightest of reds, like the goldfishes he needed to often get rid of. “Does it really matter, goldfishy? I’m still gonna eat it anyway.” Floyd took a spoonful of cake and shoved it into his mouth, letting out a hum of satisfaction at the sweet taste.

“Sea turtle’s cakes are always so good! We should have added him as an employee a long time ago.”

“Such slovenly manners.” The dorm leader muttered under his breath, bringing the teacup to his lips to drink his tea with brows furrowed in frustration. Eating with one’s mouth full was an incredibly big no-no and Riddle felt annoyance bubble in the pit of his stomach. There were stains on Floyd’s cheeks and the spoon, a soup spoon, was used as means of picking out the cake. That goes against every rule taught in etiquette! Riddle couldn’t stand it.

“I’m glad you like it.” Trey jumped in, letting Riddle calm himself and breathe. “Though I appreciate the gesture, I might be accused of moonlighting if my family found out I was working for someone else.” He was always so patient no matter who he was dealing with, Riddle guessed it was because he had siblings to take care of. “Eh? I’m sure your family will understand if you needed money for school.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Boo…Boring!”

Jade raised his plate to Trey with a pleasant smile. “Seconds, please.”

“Azul, you can eat my share. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Finish it yourself. I already ate my share.”

Floyd never liked to be held down, he hated the feeling of walls around him. He hated the way rules would hold him back and he absolutely hated those who tried to enforce it to ruin all his fun. Riddle Rosehearts was exactly that, he was uptight and brash, he was a goody two shoes and by-the-book. Floyd relished in seeing that face heat up, it was gratifying to go against someone like Riddle.

“Don’t run in the halls.”  He would say to him. “It’s improper.”

“You don’t know how to have fun don’t ya, Goldfishy?”

His words were harsh and blunt that not even someone like Riddle is immune by them. Riddle was silent and his shoulder hunched defensive. “The halls are not a place to do that, if you want to run then use the school’s field.” Floyd stuck out his tongue and ran away. “The field is boring!”

“Hey, I just told you—! Agh, what’s the point?!” Riddle stomped off, muttering about how there was no getting through to Floyd otherwise.

Floyd hated authority; he wanted to run as he pleased whenever he wanted to and where he wanted to. To be held down like a beast was like torture to him, like the weight of the shackles once put on his wrists.

Tea parties were not an uncommon thing between dorms, Azul knew that but to have the opportunity to have one with Riddle was quite rare. “It is only right that I expand on the relationships of our dorm, Azul. Knowing you, you would be quick to take advantage of that.”

Jade and Trey stood beside each other and pouring their respective dorm leader a cup of tea. “Indeed, Riddle. When an opportunity presents itself, I take what I can get my hands on.” Azul sips his cup of tea. “Rest assured that this is nothing short of a pleasant visit, we just want to see Heartslabyul for what it is since you’ve been running it since your first year as well as further tightening the bonds of our members.”

“I must say, they’re like a well oiled machine.” Jade commented, Riddle took his cup of tea specifically brewed by Trey. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jade’s tea making skills but that Trey’s skills were enough for him. “It is to be expected of Riddle that he runs such a flawless system.”

Riddle set down his cup with a small huff. “I am only doing what is right to further the teachings of the Queen of Hearts.” He looks to the two visitors with a practiced neutral face. “I don’t see the need to praise responsibility. The rules were put into place to ensure that that a group thrives under discipline, without it there will be chaos.”

“It seems you have to take a page off his book, Azul.”

“Now, now Jade. No need for the pleasantries to be aimed at me.”

Floyd huffed, sitting improperly on the chairs; this talk was boring and dumb and he just wanted to eat something to take his mind off this. The group let out a hum or approval when Trey set down a cake in front of them. White cream, the smell of vanilla, the accenting fruits glazed with water and sugar. It looked wonderful. Trey was a good baker and there was no doubt about it. “The offer still stands, Trey. You’re always welcome aboard the Monstro Lounge any time you feel like coming.” Azul tactfully slid his cake to Jade. “I’m sure that your cakes will reach bigger audiences through us.”

“I’m flattered, really I am, but I’d rather stay here. If my dorm enjoys what I make then that’s good enough for me.” Trey sets begins cutting the cake and handing it over to different people with the last being Riddle. “Besides, I’m sure a certain somebody will miss my cooking while I’m away and I can’t let that happen.”

Riddle sipped on his tea, eyes closed and posture poised. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, it’s not you Riddle.”

The two laughed among themselves all so prim and proper, Floyd didn’t like it.

“Sea turtle and goldfishy have been friends since childhood, right?” Floyd said, a few grains of chocolate stuck on his face. “Woah, that’s amazing. You lasted that long with goldfishy.” Trey smiled at him as he poured another cup of tea while Jade helped himself to another piece. Riddle’s fingers shook for a moment but that soon calmed. Aww, he thought to himself, he didn’t react.

“That’s right; it was like us and Azul but a little less consistent. We did lose track of him at the start of middle school.”

“Yeah, he was always hiding in that pot of his. I didn’t know he was in there until I saw his pop out.” Azul grimaced at Riddle. “I nearly threw some seaweed in it too.”

“Yes, I remember that very well.”

Riddle set aside his used plates. “Floyd, elbows off the table.”

“Huh? Oh—.” Floyd pulled away from the table, Jade coming to him with some tissue paper and wiping his face as if he were a child. “I’d appreciate it if you would learn some manners for this kind of event, Floyd. Your slovenly ways don’t do well with it.” Riddle commented as he pat his lips with a napkin.

“Aw, come on Goldfishy don’t be like that. This is just a small tea party.” He said with a tone on edge, leaning towards Riddle to wrap his arm around his neck.

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Riddle slapped the hand away with a huff.

“Why not? It’s a cute name.” He brought a spoon to his mouth, a soup spoon with lots of cake.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s cute. It’s not my name, respect that.  And the proper utensil for eating cake is a fork. You’re not supposed to eat it with a spoon.”

“I’ll eat the way I want to. You’re just too prim and proper to try it out.”

“Settle down, you two. That’s enough.” Jade and Trey pulled the two away from each other. “Why are you always like this, Floyd?” Riddle demanded, his snarl was large and hand set down harshly on the table making the plates jump in place. “I’ve done nothing to you and you treat me like this! You’re uncouth, you’re rude! You’re everything the rules go against!”

“Huh?” The aura around him changed, the glare in his eyes was dangerous and his voice husky and low. “What did you say to me?”

“Floyd.” Jade stressed his voice, brows furrowed while Azul held his arm.

“What about you, huh?” Floyd shrugged off Azul in annoyance. “You’re always about rules and it’s no fun.” He pointed a finger at Riddle accusingly.

“I only enforce the rules because I’m supposed to. Without it, this dorm would be in chaos!”

Floyd scoffed eyes now slits and anger pushing through his veins in a fury of hot blood. “I’d rather see place in chaos than some stuck-up system being run by somebody like you. You wanna know why you overblotted that day?” Riddle’s eyes widened and his shoulders squared, his brows furrowed and lips tightened. Trey took to his side, arm out to protect Riddle and stop Floyd from coming any further.

“If you’re not allowed to have fun then no one’s allowed to. You got jealous cuz’ people stepped out of line and you couldn’t. If you can’t have it then nobody can. That’s what you are, goldfishy,” his finger pointed at Riddle.

“You’re just a jealous, small, stuck-up goldfish.”

There was panting, Riddle’s body shaking and eyes blown out in anger. His face didn’t heat up nor did he point his scepter at them. Instead, tears had begun to form in his eyes. Ones that were threatening to fall any moment.

“Get out.”

“Riddle,” Azul tried to reach over to the other dorm leader but was only met with the business end of the Heartslabyul’s scepter. “I said get out! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Take your things and get out!”

Azul sighed, standing up after and fixed his hat nodding to the two to follow him out.

“We’re having a talk later, Floyd.”  

“Whatever.”

Riddle relaxed into his chair, leaning back against the plush cushions with hands over his eyes and soon his façade began to crack, his lips trembled and his teeth were bared, his shoulder shook and his voice was no longer controlled.

The overblot was still fresh in his mind, the days spent trying to gain back his dorm’s trust, the talks he had with the woman who raised him to be this way, and the times he question himself and his magic while holding his pen close.

Trey knelt down, bringing him close to a hug. “Come here.” He looked to the path the trio had used to exit the dorm and then back to Riddle. “It’s okay.” He stroked the red hair with his fingers, his lips pressing a kiss to his head.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”

“Deuce, what is all this?”

“Well…”

“Riddle, wanna eat some lunch together?”

“Ah—I suppose I have some time to spare.”

“They have some nice sweet bread you might like too!”

The two never crossed paths after that day, Floyd never once approached Riddle once after the small insult throwing match they had during the disastrous tea party. It was probably because of the fact that the group that followed Riddle, his friends, were always by his side and not once leaving him alone.

Floyd had been given a stern talking after the party, Azul putting his foot down on his behavior suddenly growing a heart. “I don’t need to list off the reasons why I’m upset with you, Floyd,” He said, arms folded and eyes in an angry expression. “This is the closest our dorms have ever been in years and I am not willing to let this connection go to waste just because you and Heartslabyul’s dorm leader can’t get along.”

“You two are different, I understand that.” Jade said, his arms folding in place and eyes closed as if in thought. He was equally as upset but he knew how to hide it. He and Trey had begun a friendship of sorts after spending time in the botanical gardens and he feared that Floyd’s constant teasing would put a foot in the mutualism like friendship he had formed. “But what you did was out line and uncalled for.”

Jade’s patted his brother’s arm. “I know you’re frustrated, I don’t need to strain my eyes to see it. You hate people like Riddle…” He looked down, thinking about his words carefully. “But Riddle is not like those people.”

There was a smile; Jade’s comforting smile and he pat his brother’s arm again. “You’re smart enough to know what I mean but while you contemplate what I said, I suggest you cool off. Azul and I will take the shift this afternoon. I’m sure some students are free to take your slot.”

Azul adjusted his hat and nodded his head. “I’ll go ahead and make some calls.”

“Come on, you can’t stay in the library forever.” Cater pulled at Riddle’s wrists while Ace pushed him from behind. “Yeah, no wonder you’re so tiny.” There was a small growl and the twitching hairs that made up Riddle’s signature heart-like hairstyle. “W-what I mean is that lunch time is a time to eat, not study. You can do that during study hall.” The younger first year backtracked at the sign of danger and Deuce as well as Trey couldn’t help but let out a small bout of laughter.

“At least let me walk on my own.”

“Nope. You’ll just run off to the library again!”

“Honestly…”

Floyd watched him basically get pulled into the cafeteria by his group, his friends, and his eyes saw something he never got to see when they were together. Riddle’s smile.

“You hate people like Riddle…But Riddle is not like those people.”

“You’re smart enough to know what I mean.”

He never once doubted Jade’s observations, Floyd knew better than to doubt his brother but those words caused a rift in him so much that he didn’t see the basketball flying towards him while his teammates yelled and screamed “Look out!” Floyd fell onto his back, his forehead sore and red. It was Jamil who pulled him up from the ground.

“Fucking hell,” The eel cursed. “That hurt.”

He was brought to the benches and Vargas inspected it with a huff. “What wrong, Leech?” He asked, putting his hands on his waist and expression serious. “You’re out of your element.” Floyd didn’t answer and only looked away with a huff. The swelling of his cheek was large and Vargas knew it needed medical attention. “Viper, Trappola, bring him to the infirmary.”

“Thank you for your help, both of you.” Said the nurse with a smile disarming and kind, “We’ll take it from here, the both of you can go back to class now,” The two students nodded and said their goodbyes and ‘see you later’s’ to their fellow team mate.

“Ace?” Riddle’s familiar voice was soft against the hum of the ceiling fans that swirled air within the large room. “What are you doing here?” The dorm leader asked, clearly concerned. “Did you get hurt?”

“Floyd got hit pretty bad during practice so we brought him here. What about you?”

“Just the normal check-up. You know…”

“Ah, right. I’ll leave you to it, then. See you later, Dorm Leader Riddle!”

“Take care.” While Jamil and Ace walked away, Riddle continued walking in. There was a pause when Floyd and he met, the same sense of dread he saw in his eyes appeared in an instant but this didn’t spike the thrill he’d feel when he had the upper hand instead an awkward pit formed in his stomach and his senses seem to be aware of everything around him.

“Mr Rosehearts, right on time. Have a seat and I’ll be with you soon.”

“…Thank you.”

Riddle sat on one of the chairs behind Floyd, looking down and playing with his pen. The bright red crystal still slightly dirtied with ink blots, Riddle was still recovering after the incident in his dorm. While he was still able to stand on both feet, his pen said otherwise about his ability to produce magic. The ink blots were a reminder of what it felt like pushing himself beyond the limit of what was acceptable.

It was quite embarrassing to think but if it weren’t for the instigation of those four juniors of his he wouldn’t have noticed the bars of the cage he was staying in or many years that he put a leesh on himself, a limiter to what he can and can’t do.

If it weren’t for those four, he wouldn’t have been free for a very long time. Perhaps, he wouldn’t be free at all.

“Ah, I ran out of medical pads.” Said the nurse, pulling back after swabbing Floyd’s cheek with a special numbing brew and some cream for the sore skin, they smiled at the two students sheepishly. “I’ll go get some from the storage, you two stay put. I’ll be right back.” The nurse left and soon, the two of them were alone in the silent room.

The ceiling fans were loud in his ears and sounds of the field busy with activity reached their ears like whispers. Riddle closed his eyes and sighing in a way to calm himself down. Floyd had always annoyed him but the small argument they had was what cemented the growing fear that had been growing in him.

He, like many other students before and after him, was scared of the Leech brothers.        

“What are you here for?” Floyd asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Medicine and check-up.”

“For what?”

“My blot.”

Even during the elementary school, Floyd had been taught that using too much magic is bad and can cause an overblot which was even worse but as he grew older, he learned that it wasn’t only magic that contributed to the overblot but emotional fatigue thus there was a simplified point he stuck with: the bigger the fatigue plus the more magic used equaled to a very big overblot. While he knew treatment for it existed, he had yet to see firsthand.

But what baffled him was that the blot took a few days or weeks at best for it to subside. And yet here Riddle was, his pen still dirtied with ink and needing to take medicine. Was Riddle’s blot that serious? “I didn’t know blot needed medicine.”

Riddle set down his pen, eyes still down on his lap. “They only give medicine to those who have had a bad case of it.”

“Like you?” Floyd asked suddenly, his eyes angled to look to the boy behind him, one that stayed silent for a minute. “Yes,” he admitted. “Like me.”

The chair creaked as Floyd moved to sit the wrong way on the chair. Both of his arms resting on the backrest and his chin snug between them. His eyes drooped but held no malice but a form of curiosity.

“Why?”

It was a question Riddle couldn’t answer immediately. Why was he a bad case? Perhaps it was the amount of magic he used in one sitting? It was a factor of it, yes, but there was another underlying factor that led to his blot being bad, so bad that he needed to undergo medical intervention. During his mother’s numerous lessons, he was taught that the heart of a mage is the real powerhouse of magic, it is what differentiates one’s magic to the next and it the origin of one’s unique magic. While it was a very powerful tool, it was also one of the most sensitive. Emotions can greatly affect how a mage’s magic manifests and his overblot in the Heartslabyul garden was a manifestation of what could happen to a mage when the heart goes out of control.

Years of resentment and fear, of anxiety and jealousy, and all the other emotions he couldn’t think of at that moment piled up and had been pushed down for so long only for it to gush out of him like a broken faucet and unleashing all the pent up feelings he’d been storing for the years he’s been alive.

“Because my case is serious.” Was his only answer and Floyd had seemed satisfied by that.

“For someone who says a lot of stuff about others, you don’t say a lot when you’re talking about yourself.” Floyd commented, leaning on his good cheek while the other still stung. “It’s pretty ironic.” Riddle smiled, laughing to himself. It was different to see it for himself, in fact, there wasn’t a time that Floyd could remember seeing him smile at all. Before the overblot, that is.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You know what I think?”

Riddle’s face then morphed to one of confusion and curiosity. “What?”

“You hate people like Riddle…But Riddle is not like those people.” Jade’s words echoed in his mind as he carefully put his thoughts to words. “You were taught to love the rules. You don’t follow them because you want to, it’s because you have to.” He began and he saw there was no trace of discomfort so he continued. “I don’t know what you’ve been through but it seems to be that it would have been real bad for you if you broke one even if there was no punishment for it.”

“There are.” Riddle chimed in,

“I know but it’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

Floyd looked to the pen on Riddle’s side. “It must have been tough.” Was his final comment on the matter and Riddle took the said pen into his hand with a sigh. At the moment, remembering his mother running towards him and screaming his name. For all the years he had been with her that was probably the only time he really saw his mother for what she was, overprotective and far too concerned.

There was no excusing how she raised him, there was no excusing what damage had been done to him but looking back on it Riddle began to understand why she was like that. He knew parents can’t be perfect; they are just as damaged and just as flawed as any other person was but there was a fine line between what was acceptable and what wasn’t for a parent to do for their child.

So, Floyd was right. It was tough.

“It was.”

Another bout of silence passed before Riddle laughed again. “What are you, some psychoanalyst?” There was a teasing tone Floyd had never heard coming from him and that was enough to keep the ball rolling between them. “I can be. Wanna see me predict the future with your star sign?”

“That’s astrology, Floyd.”

“I foresee that you’ll be treating me to a meat bun from Sam’s shop!”

“I am not going to do that. You have your own allowance.”

“Eh? But it tastes better when people buy it for you.”

“I am not buying you a meat bun.”

The two laughed among each other before Floyd chimed in again.

“It’s not too late, y’know?”

It was a statement that confused Riddle initially. “What do you mean?”

“You can always start breaking the rules now if you’d like. I don’t expect a goody like you to get right off the bat, though.”

He saw the way Riddle’s eyes widened at the mere idea of breaking the rules and he couldn’t help but smile at the way he thought about it. He thought back to Jade’s conversation with him and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, he couldn’t wait to tell Jade about the day Riddle finally breaks a rule.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Eh? Why not now?? We can skip class.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Octanivelle’s purples and Heartslabyul’s red do have a nice accent to one another, don’t you think?” Another tea party had been planned right after Floyd had fully recovered from his sports injury and this time with a few changes to the décor, a break away from the white table clothes and red roses. “Indeed,” Riddle said as he brought a tea cup to his lips to sip at the tea that Trey had prepared.

“I had to take a few of your students aside to study the fabric and to see if we had some in storage.” There was a smile against his cup. “Luckily my students have perfected the color changing spell.”

Jade chuckled, his finger against his own lips. “As always, with Riddle as the dorm head, Heartslabyul is a well oiled machine.” Setting his cup down, Riddle smiles at his classmate, “I am only doing what is best for my dorm. That is all.”

Trey set down the cake by slice, giving it to each person at the table. Floyd and he exchanged looks and reach over for the utensils. At that moment, Jade, Azul and Trey watched as the two ate their cakes with their spoons. It was a confusing time for the trio, one even thinking he was dreaming.

“Hm, I suppose eating it with a spoon is easier.”

Floyd giggled, leaning back on his chair. “Right? The bigger the spoon, the bigger piece of cake you can eat!”

“That’s quite sinful, honestly.”

Trey chuckled, scratching his head in confusion.

“What in the world happened to the both of you?”

Riddle’s pen sat against his coat pocket, the medication in the other. The ink blots fizzling out little by little and he too, little by little, began living the way he wanted to.

[nissakii]

How to find Motivation in Sports Anime

The human body is a very complex structure, every organ in your body, every ligament and every nerve works to keep us healthy. And like a machine that needs to be oiled and tended to have it last for a long while, our bodies need nutrition in many ways to live a healthy and fulfilling life.

Today, we are going to talk about exercise and how we can gather the motivation to get up and work on our physical health from nothing other than sports anime.

You heard me right!

While watching anime is ironically an activity you will most likely perform while sitting or laying down, let us look together why physical activity is important, how that relates to anime and what to do after striking the match of motivation!

We hear it from everyone around us, especially people who are active themselves and even doctors.

Exercise is good for you! It’s good for your body and mind!

But why is that so?

Well firstly, like the example with the machine suggests, our body responds extremely well to exercise if it is done correctly. In this instance it is always better to start slow and look at what is best for yourself which might differ considering your age, gender or other attributes.

Rigorous and controlled movement of your body makes you sweat, which might be unpleasant at the beginning if you don’t like much exercise, but we can’t really see what’s happening on the inside. As you move more and more, your blood circulates a lot quicker through your body to deploy oxygen into your organs. If you're actually interested in an anime more on that note, here's the link to Makii's Hataraku Saibou post!

With your oxygen levels raised, you’re straying further from the possibilities of heart diseases and even heart attacks. It also helps to lower your blood sugar and insulin levels which is very beneficial for prevention of diabetes or for people who used to smoke, as it prevents withdrawal symptoms more efficiently.

It’s not just the physical aspects of your body that are being mended, but exercise is also an extremely good measure to enhance your mood and mental health. Not to say that sports will solve all of your problems in an instant, but look at it this way; while exercising your body releases chemicals such as dopamine and endorphins in your brain that not only elevate your mood but are also essential for your general well-being. You even exterminate substances that make you feel worse, which is why oten after a workout you tend to feel exhausted but a good kind of exhausted.

Another great factor to include is sleep schedule!

Often enough we are torn between wake and sleep, as we can’t really get our mind to shut off after a long day. After some tough exercise your body will automatically deplete its own energy resources, as it's naturally easier to fall asleep when you’re tired. The longer you have built up your routine of including exercise in your life, the better your sleep schedule will adjust!

If actual units of exercise aren't your style, don't worry! There's a variety of things you can try, even stretching can help a lot in regulating your physical health and is a great way to wind down as you focus on each of your muscles.

Now after all of these facts about exercise which will probably sound a bit dull, how do we incorporate anime into this?

Do you know that feeling when you watch a new anime and you just want to dive into that world to see it for yourself?

Anime often incorporates a great deal of hype element, keeping us on our toes while watching so we stick with the extremes that are being displayed no matter the genre.

It’s the same with sports anime, right?

Just as much as the shounen protagonist in a fantasy world wants to defeat the villain and save humankind, the drive behind that one athlete to defeat everyone and win his favorite tournament is just as strong! In this case, we can even relate more to the anime character in a sports anime as his world is definitely closer to our real world as well.

Especially since we’re often shown the narrative of the underdog who fights tooth and nail to become the strongest, we can look at ourselves and think “If they can do it, I can too!”.

Of course the reason for the underdog becoming so strong is the intense workload they put on themselves to see quick and amazing results.

Another great thing sports bring are the teams.

In anime those teams can become more than just friends but more than a family, and to see so many different people work together is also a huge motivator.

Our brain immediately sees what can happen after a portion of hard work and that is precisely why we are suddenly so motivated after watching an episode of our current favorite sports anime. We envision ourselves what it could be like to be part of a team, dream or goal that we would do anything for.

Constant challenges and emotional outburst are not only part of the show that is animation, but also exist in real life! People dedicate everything they have into their sport just as much as an anime character might! Or they won't! Sometimes it's all just for the sheer fun of it all, and if the stiff rulings of a team feel more confining to you, be sure that there's those happy go lucky teams everywhere in real-life as well as in anime!

The sheer rivalry between characters that have only their sport in mind is immensely empowering, and therefore a good reason to start your own journey into a new sport whichever kind you might prefer.

Now if you can’t or don’t want to grab onto your next volley- or baseball or catch the next bus to your track field or gym, there’s other ways to blend a bit of healthy exercise into your life!

Hobby teams of most sports are able to be found almost everywhere, but if you have a busy schedule and simply joining a club is too much right now, try to trick yourself into sneaking some exercise into your daily life! You might for example take the stairs instead of taking the elevator all the time, or try to do short span runs or even jumps while doing some other activity! How about leaving essential stuff like food or your water bottle scattered around your place so you'll be forced to walk around to get it?

Try to see it as your personal ‘I have to become the best hero/player/fighter montage’ if the exercises seem dull! Imagine how some of your favorite heroes in anime have done the same so far!

An easy way to motivate yourself is to get friends and family involved! I myself have a hard time getting myself to exercise regularly on my own, but as soon as another person steps in the obligation kicks in and so could your motivation!

Another way that’s a bit less social but just as effective could be to exercise while watching a show you would watch anyway. Or rewatch something old you’ve had in your mind anyways, you could even try an audio book or something else in the background to get you through your reps!

And one more thing to conclude: it is never too late.

Don’t let yourself be discouraged by people telling you that you can’t do something. Whatever the reason might be, anyone can do anything if they just set their mind to it properly and stick to their goal with discipline.

I’m the last person who would call herself the epitome of discipline, quite the contrary, but there have been people in my life who have always taught me not to give up and stay positive, so I shall give you the same wisdom!

Now let’s go out there and take matters into our own hands! Until the next teatime!

This tea is so good! Wanna share?

-Nissa

[dreaming-gamer]

DMC week Day 1: Weapon – V & Nico

Gen, no shipping.

Warning: Angst towards the end.

V had never expected such an atmosphere, but there was something tranquil about being able to sit on the couch in Nico’s RV, just quietly reading the pages of his beloved anthology for perhaps the hundredth time. A soft purr rumbled against his sandal-clad feet. It was usually harder to tell his feline companion’s feelings, compared to Griffon, but at the moment, Shadow seemed perfectly content with a nap, as well as keeping V off his feet for a bit.

The summoner couldn’t deny the recent days of fighting was starting to leave an aching strain in his muscles. This moment of rest might be short, there were still many demons about after all but until Nero returned, they could only wait in this safe spot that Nico had parked in.

Speaking of the self-proclaimed Queen of machines, she was currently happily tinkering away at the latest piece of demon parts V had salvaged for her and V could admit it was a relaxing sound to hear in the background. Gears being twisted, her small exclamations of discovery, the clink of tools and metal meeting. Her work left a smell of oil in the air, but it was not unpleasant compared to the stench of demon blood and guts he had gotten so utterly used to by now.

“Oh-hee! I am a genius!”

The sudden shout was louder than most of her exclamations during the last hour and made Shadow lift her head. V kept his gaze on the book, just as fast footsteps thundered his way.

Making a mental note of which page he was on, V raised his gaze but had no time to ask what she had now figured out before she let out a huff.

“What, Nero’s not back yet?” Nico’s hand went for her tool belt, found the package and pulled out a cigarette for herself.

“It would appear not.” V agreed matter-of-factly, softly closing his book. “Did you need him for something?”

The grin that grew on Nico’s face matched a cat that just got a bowl of cream, she grinned all around the cigarette as she took a drag.

“That thing ya brought back resulted in something real special. Wanna have a peek? Free of charge!”

V felt a smirk tug at his lips.

“Well, if you are being so generous…”

Shadow moved just enough for her master to get up properly, using his cane for a bit of support to rise. Making his way through the small space of the RV, the sight that greeted him at the artisan’s workbench was certainly… odd. The design was quite unlike any of the earlier Devil Bringers she had made and V had found the Pasta Breaker an interesting enough design choice. This Devil Bringer didn’t look like a hand even.

This object was blue, didn’t resemble an arm at all really, though V could see where it was supposed to attach.

“I call it the Mega Buster!” Nico proudly declared, just as the soft ruffle of wings left V’s tattoos.

“Oh yeah, what does it even do? I don’t know if you noticed but it’s not even a hand!” Griffon snickered, setting himself down on one of the cupboards.

“That’s because this one shoots. Maybe ya wanna be target practice, little chickee?” The artisan replied, lowering her voice.

“I had enough of those damn blasts fighting the thing! You could thank me!” Griffon exclaimed, his feathers ruffled so he took to disappearing into his host but V couldn’t help smirking a bit at the exchange. He knew his familiar had not forgotten the threat of the steel pot. As for the battle itself, V did not miss those energy blasts either, the lower hem of his leather coat was singed off. If Nero could harness that power, well, wouldn’t that be useful? The showing of her recent creation sparked a question he had been wanting to ask for a while.

“If you do not mind me asking…” V started as Nico took another drag of her cigarette. “...how did you come up with the idea for these Devil Bringers?” V was genuinely curious, Nero’s case was certainly special, considering how one of his arms had been lost. But V had never heard of a prosthetic limb being built with such potential for combat. Boisterous she might be, but Nico did have quite a knack for the mechanical, that he could not deny.

Nico snorted, letting out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s a fun story alright. So Nero came wobblin’ back to Fortuna right, demanded I’d fix an arm for him. Sure, I was onboard, but then the psycho dropped a one-month deadline! Hell, he didn’t get that something like that would take half a year at least!”

V nodded, letting her continue while swatting away the cloud of smoke she blew out in his direction. Either she didn’t think about diverting the smoke, or she just did not care. The RV was her castle, after all.

“So we stood there arguing about it, when there was this guy who barged in and told Nero there was demon trouble! I told the jackass to get in, ya could tell from his face he wasn’t skipping that fight.” Nico grinned, exhaling a small cloud through her nostrils. “Damn, never seen a fight like that up close. The demon was called a Blitz or whatever. That didn’t matter though. What mattered was the way its remains were all sparky after Nero turned it to shish kebab. And that’s when yours truly got the idea for the Overture.” She stated, a proud glint evident in her brown eyes, smoke dancing around her grin.

“An impressive feat, for such a short amount of time.” V nodded as her story appeared finished.

“I know, right? So, you want me to have a lookie at what ya got? Maybe I can give ya an upgrade since Nero’s new toy’s all done.”

Before V had time to consider her offer, the mechanic snatched the cane from his light grip. V let her even though the gesture was quite rude, he felt a bit of… curiosity. Along with no small amount of doubt, considering the cane’s origins as well as well as other factors. Yet a bit of curiosity if her self-proclaimed, and quite proven genius, could find out anything about the cane that he had missed. He stayed silent as she examined his cane, just curiously watching while leaning lightly against the counter while she tapped the cane with a tool. Turned it over from every angle and checked it, even brought it close to some slivers of demonic remains to check for a reaction. There was a tiny spark as she brought the cane down on it and then, the small piece of demon flesh disintegrated.

“Metal seems good for conducting demonic energy. But is that all it does?” She sounded a bit disappointed at the lack of findings.

“It lets me finish off demons, as long as they’re weakened. I believe that will have to do.” V didn’t really have any other expectations of it, at this point.

“Oh, wait, maybe I can make some kinda coating on it? Let’s ya cut through demons more easily.” V could almost see the gears in her head starting to work, the spark of inspiration coming to life.

Admittedly, it didn’t sound like an impossible idea. But…

“I thought you used up today’s materials.” V stated, his gaze falling on the slivers of demonic remains that now looked like nothing but grains of what had once been.

“So what if I did? There’s still demons roaming about out there. Oh-hee, Nero might even bring something back!” Excitement was alight in her eyes as she took out her cigarette, put out what was left of it against an ashtray on the counter before handing back V’s aid.

V took the cane, leaned on it slightly, finding the inspiration that seemed to hit her at the mere thought of more work to be quite interesting. She clearly lived for this, just as she had claimed she wanted to be legendary like her grandmother.

“You just might become that…” He said in thought, slightly to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, pardon me.” V smirked and she just raised an eyebrow before grabbing for another cigarette.

”Just ya wait, I can equip ya with something better for kicking demon ass. Or maybe ya want a nice frying pan, for when the lil’ chickee gets too much?” Nico snickered, her grin almost sympathetic. V smirked, maybe she could come up with something brilliant for him as well. But for now, it was much better if she concentrated those efforts on Nero.

”I appreciate the offer. But I believe I’m properly equipped, for now.” V knew his reality did not include running around with a sword on his back, swinging it around was not in his cards. A gun might be another thing but he felt no need to start wielding one now. He had to resort to other means, his familiars. Shadow materialized herself, as if on cue and put her large head against his leg, pushing softly.

Ah, he had not noticed how he was starting to lean just a bit more heavily on the cane, an ache returning to his knee, making the nerves tremble.

“If you excuse me, I have some reading to do.” He said, warmed by his familiar’s silent insistence. If he had an opportunity to rest, he should make use of it. Nico didn’t seem to notice his trembling, nor his familiar’s… caring behavior.

“Pff, sure. But the offer stands, ya hear? How about a cane that suits yer height?” Nico joked, walking past him as V sat down on the couch again.

“It’s not necessary.” A joke it might be, but V nevertheless felt a warm feeling in his chest over her insistence to try. Along with a slight… ache, wrapping around his heart and squeezing.

An ache that persisted when Nico suddenly dropped a blanket in his lap.

V looked up, letting just a bit of his confusion show on his face.

“What? Ya looked chilled, trembling like that.” Nico said with a shrug. “Ya gotta speak up sometime, I can’t read minds. Well, yet.”

How utterly terrifying it would be if you could. V thought.

“Thank you.” He said. “For the… insight of your genius, as well.” Nico grinned at him, obviously pleased.

“Ya might gonna have to pay for it next time!”

“Perhaps…” She made it sound so very… certain, it was tempting to get swept up in the enthusiasm. V’s smirk fell as she continued on to the dashboard, her back to him.

“Is that jackass gonna take forever?! I wanna see him put this to use! And give me the cash.” The last bit was barely audible as Nico grabbed for the phone to dial.

V smirked to himself. Yes, Nero would be able to put Nico’s latest, as well as future weapons to good use. The summoner gently scratched behind Shadow’s ear as the panther settled over his feet again. Slowly, he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and bare arms, his trembling might not be because of a chill, but Nico’s gesture still made him feel warm, more so than the soft fabric that smelled lightly of detergent. And with it, that ache inside just seemed to grow, to squeeze tighter but he tried to shove it aside. Nico’s energetic speech as she chewed out Nero on the phone made that feeling of tranquility settle over him again along with a will to just enjoy these moments, while they lasted. So V opened up his book again, to the same page he had left earlier, while she chatted away.

Just under the leather bands on his left wrist, a tiny crack in his skin peeked through.

[pedros-mustache-main]

a thing for hermia

summary: though she be but little, she is fierce—and hopelessly in love.

word count: 1.5k+ (she a baby)

warnings: language, innuendo  

a/n: just wanna be upfront and say i basically got the idea for this from a blurb by the lovely @almightygwil. she said i could role with it, so this happened. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

also you can easily find the scene mentioned in the fic on youtube. it’s one of my favs, hence why i rambled on about it for too long. what’s italicized is shakespeare’s.

“curtain rises in ten, ladies!” richard, stage manager extraordinaire and cast wrangler, sticks his head in the door of your dressing room, tapping his knuckles against the wall. his face is flushed with stress, and the headset on his shoulders is askew. “best be ready soon.”

your cast mate, olive, winks at the middle-aged, balding, pudgy man, blush container poised halfway between her chest and her face. “i’m always ready for you, richard, dear,” she coos, to which richard, bless him, blushes and ducks out the door.

you slide your gaze to her reflection in the mirror. “you mustn’t tease him so. one day he might burst.”

olive dabs a bit of chapstick on her lips before standing. she secures her gown with a final pin and batts her eyelashes coyly. “richard is lovely and i mean every word i say. if he wants me, he can come have me.”

rising from your chair, you tug on your extensions. opening night had gone smoothly, no locks tugged out of place, but one could never be too certain. it was only a week in to the show’s run, but still you worried the hairpiece would fall off onstage. your face burned with embarrassment at the mere thought.

“god, if only my hair were this thick,” you say.

“and if only i had a million pounds. here, you’ve got some tool loose.” olive moves to stand behind you and adjust the tool beneath your dress. she meets your eyes over your shoulder, and you internally brace yourself. you know that glint; it’s nothing but trouble.

“what?” you ask, eyebrow lifted. “what is it?”

“your boyfriend,” she starts. her voice trails off as she turns her back, gathering a last minute glance at her script.

“joe?”

“he hasn’t come yet has he?”

you shake your head and pull on your ballet flats. “no. he’s in new york. i think he’ll be able to come next month.”

“you’re not angry? that he couldn’t make opening night?”

shrugging, you follow her into the hall. there’s a buzz here, as there always is. it settles in your veins like a drug, and soon you can’t help the ridiculous smile painted across your face. you dodge a member of the crew, arms laden with fake foliage and a face plastered in fear. 

“he’s busy, olive,” you say, rounding the corner. “london is thousands of miles from new york, and i think he had an important meeting that night. besides, being angry about something that’s over and done is pointless. he’ll come when he can and it will still be special.”

olive looks at you with disgust. “ugh,” she groans. “[y/n], you’re a saint and it sickens me. well, whatever he’s like, he doesn’t deserve you. if my boyfriend missed my first opening night on the west end—in a shakespeare play, no less—i’d chop his dick off.”

“guess i’ll be glad you don’t have a boyfriend then.”

olive slaps your shoulder. “uh! low blow!”

“there’s always time to butter richard up a bit more.”

before olive can respond, your director takes her place atop an overturned milk crate. she holds up her hands, and the cast and crew gathered around fall quiet. victoria is one of the youngest women to ever direct a version of ‘a midsummer night’s dream’ on the west end, and you couldn’t be more proud of being her hermia. you couldn’t be more proud of those around you. really, the tears that consistently well in your eyes when you look around the room and marvel at all you’ve accomplished are ridiculous. but you can’t help it.

five minutes before curtain is the same every night: a pep talk from victoria, a group huddle, whispered words of affection and good wishes. then all is silent. like well-oiled cogs in a machine, each person moves about their business, working for the good of the group and the good of the show. tonight is no different, and the surge of excitement you feel before stepping out on stage for the first time tingles from your head to your feet.

olive catches your arm seconds before you make your entrance. “break a leg,” she whispers, her fingers squeezing your elbow. that same glint—the one that spells trouble—lights her eyes, but you don’t have time to process it, wonder what’s gotten into her, before whisking onto the stage.

your favorite scene: act three, scene two.

you suppose it’s the nerd in you, the way you chomp at the bit to reach this scene each night. it might be the dialogue, the iconic lines and quick back and forth between your costars, that gets you so riled up. or maybe it’s simply the energy of being on stage as a group—yourself, olive, matthew, and nick—and feeding off one another’s frenzied energy. the physicality of the scene, too... you could ramble for days.

tonight, the energy is heightened tenfold. you can’t be sure, but you think olive is the one pushing things higher. there’s an unmistakable excitement about her you rarely see, and you rise to meet the challenge, careful to keep your words from fumbling together.

“O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night and stolen my love's heart from him?” tiny droplets of spit fly from your mouth as you speak, circling olive where she stands.

her eyes narrow, though she remains still. “Fine, i'faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, no touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!”

straightening, you face the audience, face pulled blank in shock. “Puppet? why so?” in a moment you keep for yourself, you scan the crowd, allowing your words to sink in before you continue. your eyes trip over a familiar face, one you know dearly but can’t place in the second you have to pause. 

twisting back to olive, you say, “Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare between our statures; she hath urged her height; and with her personage, her tall personage, her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.”

then it clicks.

oh my god—joe!

the thought—the realization that he’s here, in a poorly padded chair, watching your every move, your every word—steals the next lines from your mouth. you want to turn, to smile at him and wave like a giddy schoolgirl, but you can’t. 

so you shake yourself free, well-aware that you’ve taken too many seconds to continue, and surge forward, struggling to keep your smile at bay.

“And are you grown so high in his esteem; because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; how low am I? I am not yet so low but that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.”

during curtain call, you squeeze olive’s hand hard and lean toward her ear. “you knew,” you whisper. “that he’d be here.”

she says nothing, only smiles and waves toward the crowd, her hand squeezing yours back.

it’s all you can do to not run to your dressing room once the curtain has fallen. there’s things to do, things to put away, before you can meet joe in the theatre, and your blood pumps hard with adrenaline. throwing open the door to your room, you pull the straps of your gown off your shoulders, eager to work as quickly as possible.

“whoa, whoa, whoa. i mean, i’m all for it, but wouldn’t a hello be nice first?”

squeaking, you jump, holding the top of your dress against your chest. joe sits on the ratty armchair in the corner, a bouquet of roses in hand, and an infuriating smirk on his face. 

unbidden, tears pool in your eyes. “i fucking hate you,” you say, crossing the floor to swat his chest. he laughs and grabs your waist, drawing you to his lap before you can wiggle away. holding his face in your hands, you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“i wanted it to be a surprise.”

“well, it worked! i nearly forget all my lines when i saw you.”

his smirk widens. “i thought i caught that.” squeezing your hip, he brushes a lock of hair away from your face. “i’m really proud of you. you were incredible.”

the blush that rises to your cheeks is embarrassing, but you hold his gaze despite it. “thanks.”

“do i get anything special for coming all this way and not spoiling the surprise?”

you know what he’s hinting at, and by george, you’d do it right here right now, but the hallway is too busy and someone is bound to hear you. so you lean forward and kiss him softly, moving your lips over his in the way he likes, enough to tease.

“maybe later,” you breathe, pulling away. he looks at you through hooded eyes, dark with desire, and it sends a thrill to your stomach. “first i want you to meet everyone.”

[lu-undy]

Another one hehe, it's ok to take time 😅 Dell made some time traveling machine then he called Mundy to try it, Mundy decide to go back in in the day 1942 in France where Lucien was in a 20s-30years old. Mundy tried to talk the young Lucien 😁

Alright, this took the life and floof out of me. At first I didn’t like it but then I just couldn’t stop! Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it!! Also, I changed the year to be in the fifties or so ^^ Be warned, it’s more than 5k words ^^!

"You sure it works?" Sniper scratched his brow.

"Yeah." Engie answered confidently.

"And there's no danger?"

"Yeah, I saw Edison himself yesterday and Medic had a check-up on me. Nothing's wrong."

Sniper and Engineer were in the Texan's garage, in front of a tall box that looked like an old time telephone booth.

"So, where d'you wanna go? Or rather, when and where?" Engie asked with a proud smile. That telephone box was a time machine. 

Sniper frowned and tilted his head thinking hard. He could go back a decade or so, even a few decades, to see his parents again. Hell, he could go back and see real dinosaurs if he wanted to!

"Paris, 1953." Was his answer. Engie raised an eyebrow. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, Christmas day, wherever the French Ministry of Defense is." 

"Why?"

Sniper looked away. 

"There's a monument I want to see."

Engie half guessed where it was all going. 

"Alrighty then, get in, when you hear a beep, count to twenty and then open the door. Wherever you end up with that machine, you need to remember where it was, cause that's your only ticket back." 

"Anything I shouldn't do?" Sniper asked. 

"Like what?" Engie chuckled. 

"I don't know, to not change the past and stuff like that?" 

"Nah, it's fine. Unless you kill someone… Yeah, don't get your hands on a rifle and kill someone. And don't meet yourself. God knows what would happen… I guess that should do." 

"Right, kill no one and don't see any family, got it." Sniper repeated to himself and Engie opened the door for him to jump in. 

"And how long do I have?" Sniper asked. 

"Here, take this watch."

"Looks like Spy's." 

"Yeah, but it doesn't just turn you invisible. Press the button on the side three times and I'll know you're back in the machine and ready to make it back."

"Okay, I think I got it." Sniper took the watch and put it on. Then he stepped in the machine. Oddly enough, it looked slightly bigger on the inside than what it seemed at first. There wasn't much inside, its walls were all blue, the ceiling was white and there was a chair and a coat hanger. Sniper removed his hat and sleeveless jacket to put himself at ease before sitting on the chair. Engie gave him a smile and a thumbs up before shutting the door. Soon, Sniper heard a beep. 

"Right, here we go. One, two, three, four, five…"

When he reached twenty, he stood up and went to the door again. 

"Paris, 1953. He should be about thirty-odd years old now." 

Mundy put his hand on the door handle and pulled on it a bit. The door creaked slightly and he took a peek. Wherever he had landed was very dark. After making sure there was no one around he got out. 

"Ouch!" 

He bumped on something and heard wooden things tumble and fall on the floor. 

"Where the hell am I…?" 

He walked trying to grope for his way to any source of light while his back was hunched slightly. Sniper soon found the wall in front of him. His hands roamed on it until -

"Ah! Gotcha!" He flipped the switch and the lightbulb above his head lit up. 

"What the…? Engie, I think you got it wrong, mate…" He said, as if Englie could hear him. He realised he had landed in a broom closet. The wooden clinking sounds he had heard were the broomsticks falling to the floor. 

"Let's see." He pushed the door and looked left and right. "Bloody hell, he might have got it right after all." 

The walls were very tall and wooden. Portraits and oil paintings were hung there with elegant lamps with golden handles, that were decorated with tinsel and Christmas ornaments. The floor was wooden as well and as he looked at the ceiling, Sniper saw intricate white mouldings. 

"That's one hell of a posh building." Sniper exited the broom closet and walked around. His heels resonated on the wooden floor. Soon, he could hear the distant noise of incomprehensible chattering. 

"Where are you all…?" He followed the noises until he could see that he clearly was standing somewhere he shouldn't be. All the guests to the Christmas party were at the end of the corridor he was walking through. 

"Monsieur?" 

[Sir?]

A voice made him freeze. He turned and faced a waiter elegantly dressed in black and white. 

"Aucun invité n'est autorisé ici." 

Bloody hell they speak real French… Sniper thought. He blushed.

"Uh, you speak English?" 

"Yes, I was saying that no guests were allowed here." The waiter answered with an accent that made Spy look like he had none. 

"Ah, well, I-I uh… I was watching the paintings and I got carried away, my bad, really. Could you show me where the rest of the guests are? I'm afraid I got lost a bit." 

"But of course, pray follow me." 

Mundy stayed on the waiter's heels and soon entered a wide room with possibly more than a hundred people impeccably dressed, the sound of their chats rising in the air. There was a stage with some musicians playing in the background too, adding to the audible and visible Christmas atmosphere.

"There you are, Sir."

"Ah, thanks." 

Mundy looked at his attire and rolled his eyes. His Mann Co. red polo shirt and brown trousers wouldn't do. He looked right and left and quickly found the restroom. He headed there and slipped in. 

Sniper saw a man who happened to be roughly his height and build. He seemed already quite drunk judging by the way he struggled to maintain his balance, trying to redo his bowtie. Mundy made sure there was no one else in the cubicles before acting. 

"Bonjour." He tried his best to hide his accent but could almost hear Spy laugh at him for it… 

"Bonsoir." The man answered before squinting at his reflection on the mirror again.

[Good evening]

Mundy went to the restroom's main door and looked through the window. No one was immediately coming. He went for the poor drunk man trying to adjust his bowtie and knocked him unconscious before dragging him to one of the cubicles. He then swapped their clothes. Of course he kept his aviator glasses. 

When he emerged from the restroom again, he was wearing a black suit and bowtie with a white shirt. He even had kept the handkerchief in the jacket pocket. Now he could face it all and look for the man he had gone through all that trouble for. 

The main room with the guests was swarming with people. Men dressed sharp and ladies wearing colourful and elegant - albeit for him quite old-fashioned - dresses. 

"Right, now, time to hunt for him… Where are you?" He said to himself as he walked through people. He didn't know where to find him but Sniper knew he was wearing a black suit and tie… which didn't help at all because that was the case for most if not all of the male guests. 

"Argh, bugger, how the hell am I going to find you… If you were a panther, I'd know where to start but - oh, wait… You're a panther, you are a panther! I just need to hunt the same thing as you do and I'll find you. Pff, what the hell d'you hunt for…?"

Mundy pondered for a minute when he heard a group of women laugh on his right. He looked there and smiled to himself. 

"Of course, sheilas!" 

He headed in their direction and stopped walking when his eyes fell on a man, about a foot shorter than him, in a black suit and tie, a cigarette between his lips and his ice blue, almost grey eyes shining like he had rarely seen them before. His pitch black, silk hair was elegantly combed back except for a rebel front tuft that elegantly fell between his eyes. 

Mundy smiled. He had found him. He had found young Spy!

He stayed there and watched him from a safe distance, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile on his lips. A waiter passed by and offered him some drinks but Mundy didn't even see him. All he could see was that elegant man, being what defined him best, the best womanizer on the face of Earth. 

Sometimes, a man would come and take a lady away from him but the man with the piercing eyes would wink at her and even if Mundy wasn't the one that this wink was destined to, he would blush.

"Almost fifteen years before and you still can't make the first step, hm?" 

Mundy's blood froze. He recognised the suave voice with the French accent. But how? He had his eyes on Spy right now, it couldn't be him talking and at the same time being five metres away, busy seducing any woman who happened to meet his gaze!

Mundy felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head. 

"What the hell are you doin' here?!" 

Spy, the real one - well, the old one - was standing next to him as elegantly dressed as his younger self. 

"I could ask you the same question, you early stalker." 

"Pff…" Mundy chuckled. 

"So, what are you up to, Sniper? And what is that suit? Does it belong to the unconscious man in the restroom?"

"Well…" 

"Next time, knock out someone who actually is the same size as you."

"What are you talkin' about?" Sniper looked down at himself. "It's my size!"

"Mon Dieu, the keenest and quickest eyes I have seen and yet you cannot spot a man that is built like you…" 

[My God]

"Oi, I could, I just didn't have much choice, alright?"

"Of course, blame it on fate." 

They both chuckled at their own banter. 

"But you didn't tell me," Spy turned his piercing eyes to his friend. "What brings the man in a van in Paris in the year of our Lord 1953, hm?"

"I don't know really… I just… I wanted to see it with my own eyes."

"The photograph I showed you wasn't enough?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant. I mean… It's better with colours, and for real." 

Spy smiled and handed him a glass of champagne, which he gladly accepted. But Sniper's eyes never left Spy, the young one.

"What do you see?"

"I… The picture didn't lie, you really looked like that."

Spy raised a confused eyebrow.

"Did you think I tampered with the picture to look different?"

"N-no, I… Argh, I can't speak sometimes, I just sound stupid."

Spy smirked. He knew why Sniper was losing his words. 

"Ah, look at me… Black hair, no lines on my face yet, and as proud as a peacock." Spy felt nostalgic.

"Not really different from you now, eh." 

"Very poor lie." Spy snickered. 

"Not for the proud bit." Sniper teased. 

"Tsk…" 

They chuckled and tipped their glasses before taking a sip. 

"Ah, the champagne from the Ministry's receptions…"

"Takes you back, eh?" Sniper asked.

"You have no idea." Spy answered, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "But tell me."

"What?" 

"Why here and now?" Spy asked. "You could have chosen any destination, any time. You could have seen wonderful things, met legendary people, and yet, you chose Paris in the winter of the year 1953."

Sniper stared at the champagne glass in his hand. 

"It's that picture you showed me the other day when we were chattin'."

"What about it?" 

"I don't know… It stayed stuck to my head and I kept wondering."

"What would it look like with colours?" Spy asked. 

"Yeah, well, that and, uh… I wanted to know how you were before. If you've always been like that." 

"Like what?" 

"Like the spooky bastard you are, obviously!" 

They chuckled. 

"Well, why don't you go and see for yourself?" Spy suggested. "Go on then, go and talk to me."

"W-what should I say?" 

"This is entirely up to you, but I cannot talk to myself so go ahead, I will just stay here and hope I can remember the content of that conversation, as I cannot partake in it or watch it from close enough.

"B-but I don't know what to say…"

"Do it like I would." Spy smirked. "Improvise."

"Thanks for the shit advice, eh." 

"Fine, then a true piece of advice from me to you, to go and talk to the younger me - Mon Dieu, how strange this sounds - is go and seduce me."

"What?!" 

Spy couldn't hold back his giggle.

"Stop messin' with me."

"That look on your face was worth it, mon ami."

[My friend.]

"Screw you, Spook."

Spy laughed further. Mundy took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs. 

"R-right, I'll try something."

Spy smiled maliciously and followed Sniper with his eyes. When he saw Mundy started speaking, he clicked on his watch and turned invisible before getting closer. He wasn't going to miss Sniper taking the first step on him for anything in the world. Also, now that he thought about it, he had just acted like the wingman to… his younger self? 

"H-hey there." Mundy said, his back slightly hunched and his cheeks pink already.

"Bonsoir." The younger Spy turned to face him.

[Good evening.]

Spy's eyes had always been that impressive then, eh?

"Gosh, even your voice is the same…"

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow. 

"The same as what?" 

"And the accent! Bloody hell, it's really you!" 

"Do I know you, perhaps?" 

"Ah, uh, n-not yet."

"Obviously." The younger Spy answered. "What is your name?"

"Mundy, you?" 

"Lucien." 

"Really? Is that your name? Not one of those Jean-Pierre or other names like a train with loads of carts?"

The man with the black hair chuckled and Mundy saw his pearly white teeth.

"Oui, I can assure you that Lucien is my name. Does it not suit me?" He asked jokingly.

"Yeah, nah, sorry, I'm just a bit… confused." Mundy answered.

"I can see that." 

Mundy looked around. Only a few ladies were orbiting around Lucien now but it was still too much for him and he didn't seem comfortable talking in front of them. 

"D'you… D'you mind if we go somewhere a bit more calm?"

Lucien looked around him and smiled. There was something he liked about the strange man with the sideburns talking to him, something strangely attractive, or attractively strange.

"Follow me." 

Mundy nodded and after crossing the room and taking some stairs, they found an empty smoking room. 

"Do you smoke?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Here," Lucien flipped his cigarette case open, "Help yourself."

"Good Lord, even the case is the same… and the cigs too…!" Mundy said as he took a cigarette. 

Lucien smiled and lit them both before they took a seat. 

"You seem to compare me to someone else a lot." 

"Yeah, well, there's this bloke I know." Mundy started. "He uh… He looks like you quite a bit. He's just a bit older." 

"Mundy?" 

Mundy's heart skipped a beat. Hearing his name uttered by that man, in that voice, that accent… It was surreal. 

"Yeah?" 

"Who are you? No doubt you know me, but I don't think I have ever seen you before."

"Y-yeah, well, uhm…" Mundy scratched the back of his head.

"And you clearly are not on the guest list either. I know every single one of the guests today. None of them are called Mundy. Besides, you clearly didn't make much effort to prepare for this reception."

Mundy's jaw dropped and Lucien puffed on his cigarette.

"H-how d'you know?" 

"Your beard resembles more a messy stubble than anything else. It is clearly not taken care of, your hair either. And this suit…" Lucien's eyes were as piercing as Spy's. "You have never worn a proper suit before. You didn't adjust the bowtie or the cuffs properly and I think it is slightly too large for you, even though the fashion nowadays leans towards larger cuts, this is too much."

"Bloody hell, it's really you…" Mundy muttered under his breath. 

"If you are talking about the man who is the best intelligence agent France has ever seen, oui, c'est moi."

[Yes, it is me.]

Lucien put a proud hand on his chest and bowed his head with the most smug grin.

"And still arrogant at that!" 

"Still?" 

"Yeah, well, uh… Nevermind." 

"But please, tell me." Lucien insisted. 

"What?" 

"Who are you?" Lucien repeated. 

"You don't wanna know how a bloke like me ended up in the French Ministry of Defense's Christmas party?"

"I'll find it out soon enough." Lucien said confidently. "Besides, you don't seem to be a threat."

"Nah, I'm not."

"If you didn't come here to threaten the security of my country, then it is none of my concern. I am more intrigued by who you really are."

"I'm…" Mundy closed his eyes for a minute, just to gather his thoughts. "You don't know it but uh… You've changed my life. You've changed my life, my days and my nights."

Lucien frowned. 

"You've… Argh… Remember I told you you look like someone I know?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"You never really stopped saying so." 

"Yeah, sorry, it's just… Anyway, that bloke who really looks like you… He uh… You taught him everything and if he is my friend now, it's because of you. Bloody hell, I hope he is my friend. I see him like a friend but…"

Lucien puffed on his cigarette and listened carefully. Mundy shook his head as if to shoo away his thoughts.

"Anyway, he's just a friend, eh. But, uh…"

"You clearly have fallen for him." Lucien calmly said and Mundy bit his lip in embarrassment. "There is no shame to have."

"How d'you know?" Mundy asked. "How d'you know I…"

"It's the way you can't find your words. And trust me, I have seen more people possessed by love than my age lets you guess." 

Mundy rolled up his eyes. 

Oh I know… He thought. 

"But please, come back to the tale you were telling me." 

"Yeah, well, that bloke, he, uh… I really like him b-but he doesn't know it, nah."

"Can't you tell him?"

"No! Oh God, no… He's a magnet for sheilas, that bloke, a bit like you."

Lucien smiled proudly.

"That doesn't automatically prevent him from appreciating the company of men." He answered. 

"You think so?" 

"But of course. Personally, I don't mind much. Well, to be nearer the truth, I should say that I couldn't care less. Man, woman… Bah, same difference as you say in English." 

Mundy opened wide eyes. 

"Y-you like blokes?" 

"I can, oui." 

"Oh my God…" Mundy slapped his forehead. 

"What does it have to do with me, though?" Lucien asked. 

"Everything! I mean, no, I mean… See, I know the ladies run after you like bees after honey, I saw them back there. So I'm thinking that it's maybe the same for my friend, eh?" 

"Maybe, but to each their own." 

"C-can I ask you something?" Mundy hesitantly asked. 

"You just did." Lucien calmly answered. "But go ahead."

"If I told you that uh, ahem, somewhere, or sometime, you'd meet an Aussie and uh… He'd be about my height, he wouldn't have a clue how to dress up or do anything fancy, and uh… H-he'd be a hunter, he'd live in a van, going through the desert and hunting."

"Hunting what?" 

"Depends, he'd take contracts. Most of the time it's just pest control but occasionally, he'd take down a man… N-not because he wants to but because he's just good with a rifle and… And some people you can't let live like… Like some of the Nazis you caught." 

Lucien's eyebrows jumped.

"Hm, I see." 

"What would you think of that man?" Mundy asked, fumbling with his fingers on the dark brown leather armchair.

Lucien smirked. 

"I would want to know him." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "I've always had a weakness for the exotic and foreign. An Australian man, you say? That sounds exciting. Besides, if he is as shy and clumsy as you are, then I would definitely go and talk to him."

"Really?" 

"Oui. You seem to doubt my words a lot, but I am sincere." Lucien smiled. "What profit would I get to not be honest?"

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right." 

"May I ask, this man your heart is worried about, he is here, in this reception, non?" 

"S-sort of, yeah." Mundy frowned. "But how did you guess?"

Lucien gave him that trademarked smile of his, the one where his eyes read him as if he was naked.

"For a man as shy as you seem to be, to manage to burst in a reception such as this, with a suit that you 'borrowed' and talking to a stranger like me, well, it's either a lot of money that you are after, or something utterly priceless." 

Mundy was flabbergasted. Spy's mind had always been that sharp then, it was insane. 

"And when I say something utterly priceless, I mean someone that you attached yourself so deeply that you cannot possibly think of anyone else. You, Monsieur Mundy, are quite the romantic type, despite the lack of self-care. Oui, romantic and very faithful."

"How the hell can you guess all that?" 

"It is no guess. As I said, despite your timid personality, you didn't hesitate to breach these extremely protected walls for just a glimpse maybe, of the man your heart is now racing for. That is for the romantic side. The faithful one I get from your glasses."

"My glasses?" 

"You went to the trouble of stealing this suit from someone, but you insist on wearing your own glasses, which could not match less well with the whole attire. Shy and romantic makes you as faithful in love as you are to your glasses." Lucien crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray as a professor would end the demonstration of a mathematical theorem.

"Bloody hell…" 

"Do I know him?" Lucien asked.

"Who?" 

"The man you love."

"Yeah… Yeah you know him very well actually."

"May I know who it is?" 

"N-nah, not yet… Not in the next fifteen-odd years, heh…" Mundy chuckled slightly. "Maybe one day I'll tell you."

"Should I then wait for a decade and a half?" 

"I'm afraid so." Mundy answered smiling. 

"I am way too impatient for that." 

"Oh I know…" 

"And if I really am like that friend of yours, then he surely knows that you love him." 

Mundy's smile vanished. 

"What?" 

"Mundy, you are atrociously easy to read."

"So you know who-?"

"Oui." Lucien stood up and went to the impressive dark wooden door. He looked back at Mundy who had lowered his head and was staring at his boots. They didn't match with the black suit trousers. "Mundy?" 

He raised his head. 

"See you in fifteen years." And Lucien exited the room, leaving Mundy alone. He looked down at his boots again, trying to understand what he should take from that conversation. 

"So, how did you find me?" 

Mundy got startled and put a hand on his chest as a silhouette emerged from a thin cloud.

"Bloody hell, Spook! I thought you were still downstairs!"

"You heard me say it here and now, I have always been awfully impatient." Spy joked as he sat down on the armchair that his younger self had used a minute ago.

"Yeah, well… Were you here all along?" 

"Oui."

"You heard everything?"

"And saw it too."

Mundy winced and looked away. He leaned back on his armchair and averted his gaze from Spy at all cost. 

"And now I have a vague memory of it as well. After all, you were talking to me. But tell me, how did you find me?" 

"Same as now." Mundy said. 

Spy felt his embarrassment. 

"So were you." He answered before silence fell. 

"Spook?" 

"Oui?"

"What he said about… The bloke I talked about. Is it true?"

"Oui." 

"So you know?"

"Oui." 

"Have you - have you known for a long time?"

"Quite a while." Spy answered simply. 

"How long?" 

"A few weeks now, roughly, but it strangely feels like decades." Spy scratched his head.

"Bugger…" Mundy hid his face in his hands. 

"Sniper?"

"What?" 

"Don't feel angry."

"I'm not, I'm just… I'm confused, alright? I don't know what to do, what to think anymore!"

"Why?" Spy asked calmly.

"Because you know!" Sniper stood up and headed away. He left the room and went down the stairs, rushing past people. He pushed them out of his way without apologising. He crossed the room when a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned and was about to roar at whoever dared stop him but his rage just vanished. 

"Mundy." 

He looked at his feet. 

"Look at me."

"Nah, mate, I-I can't." 

"Look at him." A voice whispered in his ear and Mundy yielded.

"Mundy," The young Lucien continued. "When I meet you again, in fifteen years, please remind me." 

"Of what?" 

"Remind me of the chat we had today." 

"You think you'll forget it?"

"Non. I won't ever forget the man who broke into the reception under the highest security just to have a chat with me." The younger Lucien tapped his shoulder. "Goodbye."

Mundy nodded and left. When he got in the time machine again, he clicked three times on his watch and counted to twenty...

That night, he spent it thinking in utter silence, in his van. Mundy needed to calm his racing brain but he couldn't help it, it was running as fast as a hamster in a wheel. 

Spy knew the truth. More than that, he had been knowing for the past fifteen-odd years now… 

A knock broke his train of thought. 

"Bugger off." 

The door opened against his expectations and his will. It revealed the silhouette of a man in a suit. Mundy sighed as Lucien entered and shut the door after him. He sat down on his worn out couch, next to him. 

"Mundy, we need to talk."

"I think I said everything already. You need to talk."

"Correct. I need to talk to you and ask you if you are upset or angry against me."

"No."

"But you still lock yourself up here because…?"

"Because I don't know what else to do." 

"Ah, I see." Lucien nodded. "May I tell you what I think?"

Mundy nodded, albeit still not looking at Lucien, who swiftly removed his mask. 

"We both know your side of the story. Aren't you curious to know mine?" 

Mundy shrugged. 

"Really? You don't want to know?" Lucien insisted. 

"What would it change?"

"You can't know if you don't know my version of the story." Lucien answered calmly and Mundy sighed. 

"Alright, go ahead."

Lucien cleared his throat. They were both sitting in the dark in the van and the small windows of it only let a very little amount of moonlight through. 

"You have impressed me today. Of all the places you could have gone to, of all the people… You could have chosen to visit your grandparents, your parents! And yet you chose Paris, 1953." 

Lucien paused. 

"I can only imagine how often you think of me, then; how obsessed you are with me. I don't take it strangely, countless people have before you. But you stand out, Mundy. There is one thing that that cohort of people do not share with you."

Mundy turned his head to ask why.

"Ever since I saw you at this reception, in 1953, your image never left me."

Mundy frowned. 

"The more I think about it, the more I think that in fact, you said it all in your first few words to me, in that smoking room. You said 'You have changed my life'. Did I? How so? Is it that I'm the first man you fall for?"

Lucien looked at Mundy's eyes. 

"Non, it's not that, I can see it in your eyes. What is it then?"

Mundy didn't answer. 

"Usually when I change people's lives, it is because I end it. But I didn't kill you and I never will, I can't. How did I change your life? Did you just mean that your mind was constantly busy with me? Was that it?" 

Again, Lucien looked for the answer in Mundy's eyes. 

"Non, it's not that." He sighed. "Whatever you meant by that is entirely up to you. I can but wonder. But I think you should know that I didn't tell you everything I thought back then, because I didn't know you as I do today."

Mundy raised a curious eyebrow. 

"When you asked me what I would think about an Australian man like you, I didn't tell you the entire truth. But it isn't because I wanted to lie. It is because back then, I didn't have all the truth. However, today, I do. Shall I tell you?" 

Mundy nodded slightly. 

"Bien." Lucien took a deep breath. "If I were to meet a man like you, I would first be curious as I naturally am. I would get to know you, through asking you directly, or digging around, on my own. But I confirm what I said fifteen years ago. I would definitely come and talk to you." 

Mundy was listening, his eyes riveted on the bit of sky through the window opposite them. 

"And what would I discover? I would confirm what I had guessed fifteen years ago already. You are shy and very faithful, but also passionate. And, growing older, I would realise that what lasts in life is what you have inside of you, not the shell outside. I would learn to accept the stubble and the sideburns, the hat and the glasses, the rifle and the van."

Lucien paused and smiled to himself. 

"More than that, I would fall for them all."

Mundy's heart jumped and his blood froze. 

"The van? I would try to spend more time there, if you are in. The rifle? Seeing it means that you are close by. The hat? Underneath it is a good man. The glasses? They hide beautiful, if shy, eyes. The sideburns? They are you as much as you are them. The hair? I would give a lot to feel it between my fingers."

Mundy's jaw had dropped as he stared at Lucien now, the shock of what he just said painted on his face. Lucien was still looking through the window. 

"I have fallen for you as much as you have for me. That is the difference between all these people who fell for me before you, and you. You, Mundy, and to put it bluntly... I find myself in love you."

Mundy put a hand on his mouth to cover his bewilderment. Silence fell. The Aussie was incapable of speech. 

"What you did today, or shall I say fifteen years ago, that is quite unlike you, Mundy. You behaved very bravely. Not to say that you are not courageous, non, I have seen you at work and you are remarkable. I mean for a man as shy as you to choose to tell me that you love me, even if it's fifteen years in advance… It takes some courage. Especially as I am sure that deep down you knew that however twisted you would make your story sound to me, I would understand that the message in its most essential form was 'I love you'."

Mundy sighed and Lucien wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"I love you too, Mundy. You don't have to feel strange about it. You don't have to hold yourself back or think that whatever you feel for me is at best a dream or at worse, wasted." 

Lucien smiled before continuing. 

"And if you can accept the same man that you saw today but with fifteen more years, grey hair and lines on his face, then that poor old man would be delighted." 

Mundy looked at Lucien. 

"I…" He finally broke his silence. "I love you." 

"Thus fulfilling your promise." Lucien answered. 

"What promise?"

"You had said that in fifteen years you would tell me who was that man you kept in your heart." Lucien smiled. 

"Yeah, well… It's you."

"Likewise."

"But wait," Mundy frowned. "You knew I loved you and you waited fifteen years like that?"

"I didn't know if I would love you back. Even though, your clumsiness that night was absolutely charming and I did wish that I could find someone like you, someone spontaneous, almost naive, very raw in your emotions, very true to yourself."

"Your complete opposite, eh?" 

"Oui, indeed." They both chuckled. 

"But someone who is passionate, faithful and honest, someone who would be the reason I want to open my eyes every morning, if it is to spend the day with them."

"You're romantic too, eh?"

"Overly so. It is almost a curse." Lucien answered with a smile before looking back in Mundy's eyes. 

"I… I love that about you." Mundy said before leaning his head on Lucien's shoulder. "That, and all the rest actually."

"I am glad you do…" 

Mundy felt that the sentence was left hanging, as if Lucien wasn't sure how to end it. 

"...mon amour."

[...my love.]

Mundy closed his eyes and smiled. He blushed when he felt and heard Lucien kiss him on his hair.

[siren-queen-imagines]

Happy Ending

I’m going through the Wayback Machine and bringing over some fics that I wrote when I was imaginingwwesuperstars!! Well, at least what they have archived…and has been edited since the original post…I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

**SMUT WARNING**

Another month down.

You started working in the WWE as an assistant medic for the past 3 months and so far, nothing bad has happened to you yet. You haven’t accidentally hurt anyone further or rub anyone the wrong way. From what you gathered, everyone seemed to like you to an extent. You were even invited out a few times with some of the girls.

But going out in big groups wasn’t really your thing. You considered yourself a bit of a loner. You learned more so to appreciate your quiet and down time since working here because it can be so hectic at times. Despite that, you did truly appreciate the effort that some of the girls put forth in getting to know you. In fact, there were times you would find yourself sharing a table with Becky Lynch. She noticed your introverted nature from the beginning and always made sure to never push you to go out or anything like that. You were so grateful that she had been nothing but sweet to you. In the beginning, you were worried about making friends and meeting all these big personalities…but you had made a friend in Becky and it helped with the anxiety of being the newbie around the company.

You were sitting in catering, enjoying a late lunch while watching Daredevil on your Netflix app.

“You know, I think Corbin has a little crush on you.” Becky said, sitting down next to you with a bottle of water. “Sorry to interrupt you.”

“What?” You asked, looking up at Becky with wide eyes as you removed one of your headphones.

“Baron Corbin. I swear, anytime you two are in the same room, he’s always staring at you.”

“He could be looking at something near me, Beck. Doesn’t mean he likes me.” You denied.

“Trust me, it’s you. He’s got good taste. You’re cute and pretty awesome. Own it.”

You were about to reply when your phone went off. You got a message from Jan, one of the medics you’ve been working with, to come back to the trainer’s office. Chad Gable messed up his knee in the ring and she could use your help.

“I gotta go.” You told Becky, grabbing your empty plate. “I’ll see you later, Becky.”

“Bye, Y/N.” She smiled.

You walked out of catering, very aware that eyes were following you. You didn’t even bother to see if Baron Corbin was even looking but they also could’ve been Becky’s. You arrived in the office to see Chad grimacing in pain as Jan spoke to him and Jason.

=================================

“How are you feeling, Chad?” You asked, handing him a bottle of water as he watched the show from the trainer’s room.

“Eh, a little tender still.” Chad replied as he took the water bottle and you checked his knee.

“Okay. Well, your results shouldn’t be long now. Just relax for a little longer, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Y/N.”

You offered him a small, comforting smile as you gently patted him on the shoulder before leaving him be.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jan called out, walking over to you as she came back into the room.

“Yeah?” You replied.

“I have Gable’s results now. I also have a massage set for Baron Corbin in like a minute or two, his shoulder has been bothering him. You think you can take that for me while I talk to Gable?”

“Uh—uh, yeah. Sure.” You stuttered, your mind immediately going back to what Becky said earlier.

“You don’t sound so sure. If you don’t want—”

“No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Jan smiled at you.

You went over to the other side of the room to get everything ready for Baron. You hoped that if Becky was right, you didn’t make an idiot of yourself…that was the last thing you needed considering that you found Baron attractive. You didn’t dare tell Becky that because she would never let it go.

“Hey.” You heard a deep voice call from behind you. You turned around to see Baron standing there. “I’m here for my shoulder massage.”

You nodded and motioned for him to have a seat on the table. Baron took his seat and removed his shirt as you closed the door. You breathed in sharply, admiring his tattoos. You were a sucker for those tattoos. You snapped out of it when you noticed he was watching you.

“So, uh—uh, which shoulder is it?” You asked, turning back towards the supplies, grabbing some massage oil.

“Right.”

You nodded and put some oil on your hands, rubbing them together before beginning to work on his shoulder. Things remained silent between you two for a bit…mostly because you didn’t know what to say.

“You’re concentrating really hard on my shoulder there.” Baron said, watching you ever since you started.

“I wanna make sure I get it worked up.” You mumbled.

“So, how are you liking our little slice of paradise?”

“It’s good. I like it here.”

“Like here, right here right now?”

You blushed deeply as you paused for a moment, causing Baron to smile. You noticed him smirk and decided that maybe two can play this game. You weren’t all that good at flirting, but it was worth a try to get him back. You went back to work on his shoulder, digging in deeper. You noticed his eyes closing and you could’ve sworn you heard a light moan come from him.

There were nerves that got in the way the first few chances, but you finally leaned in towards his ear.

“That feel good, Baron?” You whispered into his ear.

“Mmm hmm.” Baron quietly replied, his eyes remaining closed.

“You want me to dig a little deeper?”

“Yeah.” He whispered.

You dug a little deeper into his shoulder, earning a very audible moan from him. You stopped for a moment when you looked towards his lap…you didn’t expect that and now you just felt awkward…you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine, not turn the guy on…Baron’s eyes opened as he looked over at you. He stood at his full height in front of you, slowly walking towards you, making you take a few steps back. This continued until you were backed into the wall. He leaned into you, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in. You shakily took a breath as you felt Baron’s nose rubbing up against your neck…you felt yourself getting wet.

“Y/N.” Baron whispered into your neck. “Let me have you.”

“Baron…” You whispered back, your eyes closing when Baron placed feather light kisses on your neck.

“Please…can I have you?”

You sighed as Baron gently suckled on your pulse point. Your fingernails lightly scratching the back of his head. 

“Yes. Take me, Baron.”

Baron growled as he crouched down for a moment, grabbing a hold of your butt as he lifted you against the wall. Your legs wrapped around him as your lips finally met. You felt one of Baron’s arms move away from your body. You were about to pull away and ask what he was doing when you heard the click of the lock on the door.

Baron grabbed a hold of your butt again as he moved you away from the wall and over towards the table. He sat you on it and ran his hands up your shirt, pulling it over your head. You reached back to unhook your bra and you felt Baron’s fingers reach for the straps. Baron’s lips moved from your lips to your left shoulder, kissing his way down as he lowered the strap.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” You whispered to him.

“I’ll take my time with you later then.” Baron replied.

He was planning on a next time...oh hell yes.

Baron undid his belt and his jeans while you did the same. He helped you jump down and pull your pants and panties off. He sat you back on the table and began to play with your clit. Baron kissed you to keep the volume down as your co-worker was in the next room with Chad Gable and possible a visiting Jason Jordan.

“Baron.” You whined against his lips.

“I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby.” Baron replied, his middle finger moving to your entrance. “Fuck, you’re soaking for me already.” He kissed you once more as his finger entered you, causing you to moan into his mouth. “Shhh, baby. Shhh.” He smiled as he added a second finger, watching you as you bit down on your bottom lip.You felt him start off slowly before increasing his speed.

“Fuck, Baron.” You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Come on, Y/N. Get it, baby. Cum.”

Before you knew it, your felt yourself topple over the edge, Baron’s mouth covering yours, capturing your moans. He kept going as you rode it out, your body shaking a bit before he removed his fingers. You watched as he sucked on his fingers, tasting you.

“Goddamn, you taste so good.” Baron told you as he lined up his cock with your entrance. “You ready for me?”

“Yes. Please, Baron.”

You bit down on your bottom lip once more as he slowly entered you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into you when he filled you completely. You held back a moan, pretty sure that you were about to draw blood from your lip.

Baron’s thrusts started off slow and steady as you adjusted to his size.

“Do I make you feel good, Y/N? Hmm?” Baron asked as he picked up the pace.

“S-s-so good.”

“Yeah? You like the way I fuck that pussy?”

“So fucking good, Baron.”

Baron’s thrusts got harder and faster causing the table to shake beneath you. He thrust into you harder, causing the table to bump into the wall and he paused for a moment. He needed to control himself and not make too much noise. He didn’t need you getting caught and possibly lose your job.

“Please don’t stop.” You practically begged.

Baron couldn’t deny you. He continued with his current pace, one hand on your waist to hold you in place while the other was threaded into your hair. He kissed you roughly as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his release.

“Fuck…oh fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, Baron…cum for me.”

He went harder and faster…and you could’ve sworn deeper as you felt yourself ready to fall over the edge with him. You felt the hand on your waist go between you to play with your clit.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried out loud, biting into his shoulder as you came all over his cock.

Baron buried his head once more into your neck to mask his grunting and groaning as he emptied himself inside you.

“Fuck.” Baron growled as he continued thrusting into you, filling you.

You and Baron panted, remaining in place for a moment as you both worked to catch your breath. Baron moved from your neck to kiss you once more...when a knock interrupted you.

“Hey, is everything okay in there? I thought I heard the f-word.” A voice called from the other side of the door…it was definitely Jan’s.

“Y-Yeah, it’s fine. I just dropped some of the massage oil.” You replied quickly as Baron remained inside you.

“Okay.”

You heard Jan walk away from the door before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Did your shoulder even hurt?” You had asked Baron after a moment as he pulled away.

“No.” Baron replied with a smirk as he put his pants back on.

“So you were planning this...?”

“No. I actually planned to ask you to dinner. Sex in the trainer’s room was a surprise. But I’m not complaining.” You couldn’t help but smile as you shook your head, dressing yourself. “So...you still wanna have dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You teased.

“If you want, after, we can go back to my room for round two.”

Baron pulled you close to him and kissed you.

“Well, how do you expect me to say no to that?”

[mechmech]

Ok so I know this is like my first post but I’ve been working on it cause a friend did it for their dnd character and I was like this could be fun and give people some insight. Questions wandered as Mecha 1-100

Smell like: oil, sweat, and more recently baby spit-up

Voice: Not many people will understand this fem-V from cyberpunk. Sorta gravely

Motivator: Research mostly. Finding out new things and applying them. More recently though her kid and making a better world for them.

Most embarrassing memory: She doesn’t like to share this story, but when she was younger and moved around with her sister mecha, she was afraid to GO in the woods because she accidentally wandered onto a farmer’s land and was caught pantsless.

How do they react to pain: “ You wanna hit me go ahead, just stay away from the hands and eyes” She can deal with a great deal of physical pain but when it comes to emotions and others she is like a mage named Corren

Wear: Normally throughout the day, she wears her metal armor. Outside of her armor, she wears a simple black dress when relaxing, a work apron while working, and always Always gauntlets and a blindfold

Most positive relationship: THis is difficult because so many of them have done different things, but most probably Corren and her want to be more good like him

The weirdest thing I have ever eaten: Correns cooking

Sleep: “Alister! Corren! Cuddle me!” Yea she will cuddle up with almost any person who trusts and it depends on the person. Alister: Alister is the big spoon and mecha buries herself into his chest and stomach. Corren: Mecha is like a koala to Corren and just hugs onto a single leg.

Favorite food/ kinda food: Vegetables honestly, but also baked goods like bread

Most insecure about: How others see her

Like to wear: adaptable clothing, something that can be used for many different functions and also gotta be able to get dirty and clean when you need it

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Previously they bottled them up, but more and more they are learning to talk to others about that guilt. Ultimately she always feels guilty for something

React to betrayal: Depends on the person buuuttttt, angry, blames themself for part of it, tries to move on quickly

Greatest achievement: MOCHA

Too little sleep: quiet and most likely taking a nap in the skeleton’s arms. That's If she is actually tired. Shel heals fatigue in an instant.

What are they like a drunk: If she drinks and gets drunk and that's a big if she becomes an I love you drunk and we'll just tell everyone what she likes about them before passing out.

Music likes: A lot of Rock and techno music, a little bit of pop only because it fits.

Right or left-handed: She always works with her hammer in her right hand.

Fears: Being completely alone, losing her friends, losing Mocha, destroying the world, the unknown, diseases, being like her mother

Favorite weather: Nice sunny days with a slight breeze

Favorite color: it’s hard because it's between gold and blue

Collect anything: besides random trophies, rocks that she sometimes gives away.

Hot or cold weather: Hot because you can cool down easily.

Eye color: Goldenish/ yellow

Race/ ethnicity: Well Gremlin in Sekrezia, in the real world through it's between Brazilian and Irish

Hair color: Ginger/ red

Happy where they are currently: Nope, not even a little bit. She's upset because she believes she has possibly doomed the world and has actually found someone she can connect with/ has some feeling for and they just keep backsliding her. She also hates that she has to leave her new daughter.

Mounting person: YES!!! Up early to get shit done

Sunrise or sunset: Sunrise is extremely pretty to watch especially when you can but caves are a thing.

Messy or organized: Like myself, it's a chaotic form of organization

Pet peeves: Jumping to conclusions, mistreating machines

Objects of significant importance: Her forge hammer which is like a badge of office saying she is a member of a smithing guild and her evil eye because a really good friend helped her make it.

Least favorite food: The rock she accidentally tried to eat while she was tired delirious one night in a cave.

Least favorite color: Kelly Green. Look it looks like puke, nothing against other greens but this one ugh

Least favorite smell: Decaying flesh

The last time they cried: mhhh a few weeks but it's gonna be soon. Definitely the birth of her child.

Anybody with them: entire party forMochas birth, but other than that Corren and Alistar

The time they got injured: Well getting crushed by a giant cube was bad, the worst injury would probably be getting dragged into lava by her own creation that she loved.

Scars: Nope none so far that are physical. Some mental ones that she's working through.

Mental health issues: Paranoia, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, PTSD

Bad habits: Shutting everyone else out.

Why might someone dislike her: SHe can be a bit standoffish and definitely hard-headed.

Why might someone love her: He has a big heart for those she cares about, she's smart and also creates a lot of small gifts that aren't for value but personal reasons.

Believe in ghosts: Literally was in a plane of the dead, soooo yes

Anyone they would trust with their life: Corren, Alistar, Torvid, Simple,

Romantically interested in anyone: Spectra, depends on the person. ACE and Demiromantic

Dating/ Married: Complicated is what it is. Yes dating somewhat but it’s not a good relationship

Like surprises: Yes, surprises are nice and add a bit of fun to life. Other than a somewhat surprising pregnancy.

Birthday: I honestly forget but it's their weave day

Celebrate their birthday: Only with those they care about, which is few but some members of the party yes.

Family: Dad is dead, Mom is alive supposedly but she was supposed to be dead, and sister is possibly dead but in a bit of denial about it

Close to their family: Chosen family yes.

MBTI type: ISTP

Zodiac signs: I forget the sekrezian one but in real life Aquarius

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Alignment; Chaotic neutral/ good

Nightmares: Losing the entire party in ways that they caused ore were directly a part of.

View on death: CHanged a lot as their questline has gone on but “Once someone has passed from this world and seen the raven queen and chosen their afterlife that is it, they are at peace and will stay there unless the gods dictate differently. Past a resurrection people should not come back. I have learned this the hard way and watched what happens when you play with death”.

Something they always laugh at: Corren getting flustered and digging himself into holes he can't get out of.

When bored, what do they do: Read a book/ tinker with new experiments

Enjoy the outside: yes, especially new areas where there are unexplored places.

Accent: Somewhat of a german accent but I’m no good at replicating it

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: “Who left this perfectly good piece of cake here?”

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: Alister: Be a good father to Mocha, Corren: Be a good stepfather to Mocha and make sure Alister stays on the right path, Simple Geoff: didn't like you at first but your apart of my family now, Maple: Live your best life and don't let other people tell you what you can be also given up on revenge it's never as sweet as you think, Lautrec: (Opens box) sorry it took a while, Vlog: “you don't like me, I kinda like you, protect your own but never stop learning and exploring.

Feelings about sex: Mecha doesn’t want sex and feels really uncomfortable with it especially around people she doesn’t know, but around friends, she’s willing to talk about it but will also respect preferences.

Sexuality: questioning, but Grey-ace

Squeamish around blood: Nope “ I saved a man that had a lethal arrow through his neck”

Anything they find gross: Living hair/ hair constructs

TV trope: Reclusive nerd with a big heart

Enjoy helping people: Yes she really likes to help those who need it, but if she believes you can help yourself she will leave you to it.

Allergies: Seasonal/ pollen

Pet: Multiple constructs that range from a skeleton to a walking piece of glass

Quick to anger: No, she has somewhat of a calm head that eventually boils over and then causes a big yelling fight/ random actions such as throwing a stick of dynamite in a graveyard.

How patient is she: Rather patient especially when listening, not the greatest responder though

Good at cooking: Hell yea they are, give them a pan and they'll make you a feast

Favorite insult:” I'm coming for your knees” “Don't make me get the fume engine”

How do they act when happy: Huge grin on their face and they start fidgeting.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: Tease them slightly in private but keep the information to themselves.

Trustworthy: yes and very loyal to her friends.

Do they try to hide their emotions: Definitely but not always the greatest at hiding them cause everyone has a great sense of motive.

Exercise regularly: We walk and adventure every day while she carries probably over 25lb of mechanical items so yes.

Comfortable with the way they look: Mhh sometimes, but not always. She really doesn't like that she reminds herself of her sister or that she has distinct eyes.

Features they find attractive on others: Not really features, she's more into personality but she does like people’s eyes.

Personalities they find attractive: Protective, Kind, Smart, honest, loyal.

Do they like sweet foods: definitely into the sweeter things in life,

Age: in sekrezia: 204, equivalent age is like 45-55

Tall or short: 3ft pretty short but and on the shorter side of her race

Glasses or contacts: Nope just a cool ass blindfold and no it's not for BDSM

Consider herself attractive: Nope, not at all. SHes surprised if someone likes her in that way.

Sense of humor: Both dark and sexual but at the same time dad jokes as much as possible. Also random improv she comes up with on the spot, which is slightly me

What mood are they in most often: THe mood of trying to figure out how something works

What angers them: Hurting children, hurting the party, destroying art and machines, using others to your own gain, rape, slavery

Outlook on life: “Life is full of twists and turns. There is never bad without good. Take your time and really think about what you do, but don't forget to also just let go and go wild every now and then.

What makes them sad or depressed: THinking of their family/ friends being gone, children with no home, Mocha growing up alone.

Greatest weakness: Turning the mind against them/ lack of belief in herself and that she is not responsible for the world.

Greatest strength: Open mind and somewhat open heart.

Something they regret: not letting them self grieve for pax in a different way than hunting them down and screwing the world.

Biggest accomplishment: Having a kid

Hope for the future: open an orphanage and continue helping the Fucks make the world at least a little brighter.

[a-bugz-life]

I’m Toxic, You’re Slipping Under || Solo

TIMING: Last Night SUMMARY: Anita relapses.  CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW (kissing, touching, sex mentions), death, vomit

Anita wasn’t the type to settle down. She thought she might have been, at one point, years ago. But with the way things went with Priya… she knew that she wasn’t the kind of person, the kind of creature that could be trusted around another person. She was designed to kill, that was what her kind was meant to do. So to protect herself and others, she made a very strict rule to never be anything but casual with women. If there wasn’t much emotion, if there wasn’t a ton of passion, she knew that she could control herself. She could make sure that she wasn’t around anyone when she was really hungry, she could make sure to eat before sleeping with anyone. 

For years sticking with that plan worked. She’d “lose” girls numbers after she hooked up with them. She’d avoid sleeping with people she saw too often so that there wouldn’t be any awkwardness. Sure, there were plenty of women who got pissed at her, who didn’t want a one-night only kind of thing. But that’s who Anita was. Until Marley. 

Maybe it was because the first night they had ever met it was obvious to both of them that neither was human, or maybe it was just because of who Marley was, but Anita couldn’t help but keep going back to her. It was getting to the point where it was nearly all-consuming. The appeal of going out to pick up women lost its edge, and more nights than not she opted to instead just spend time with Marley. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights, even though she had wanted it to be. Anita knew Marley was working the night shift, and used this as an opportunity to force herself to get back out there, to meet some random women and have a random one-night-stand and try to get back to her old self. 

Dell’s was always a good bet. Packed on the weekends, plenty of people to mingle with until she found someone who was interested. Not that that ever really took very long. When she arrived the place was bustling with energy, and any nerves or reservations she previously had about going out seemed to just slip away. Anita approached the bar, and slid in beside a woman who appeared to be sitting alone. She waved down the bartender, who gave her the ‘one minute’ signal, then she turned to the woman beside her. “Damn, what are you drinking that looks really good.” 

It was a fairly outright lie. Anita wasn’t really into the fruity drinks, and this one was clearly that. But she was into the woman, and this bit was always an easy way to strike up a conversation. And that was exactly what happened in this case. Anita ordered the same drink that the woman was having, something bright blue and full of literal chunks of fruit. It wasn’t the greatest, but the conversations that followed were pretty decent. It was at least enough for Anita to be able to gather that this woman, Sarah, was pretty into her, which was really all she was looking for that evening. 

After a few drinks and a few hours, the bartender announced the last call. Like most nights, this was the make it or break it moment. A subtle look and a flutter of her eyes, she’d tentatively place a hand on the other woman’s thigh, then lean in and whisper in her ear,  “Hey, you know, I think I got the ingredient to make more of these at my place. Wanna continue this there?” If the answer was no, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but after hours of flirting the answer was almost always a resounding, “That sounds amazing.” 

Anita grinned at the words, paid out her tab then wrapped her one arm around the other woman’s waist as they made their way out to the parking lot. The good thing about closing time is that the taxi service in town always had cars out in the lot just as people were making their way out, like a well oiled machine. The pair of women got into a cab, and Anita offered up her address as their destination. The ride over to Dark Score Lake took a bit of time, so Anita used every second to get cozy with her lady for the night. 

Before the cab even made it to her home, the women were already kissing in the backseat. The cab driver almost swerved out of the lane a few times looking back at them in the rearview mirror. Anita couldn’t help but smirk. 

Once the cab pulled into Anita’s driveway, she threw a wad of cash into the driver’s lap then led Sarah up to the front door. “To be clear, you’re not actually expecting me to make you that fruity drink, are you?” She asked teasingly, fairly sure that she and Sarah were on the same wavelength. 

“Oh god no.” Her companion replied, as she wrapped an arm around Anita’s waist and pulled her inside the house. 

Anita smiled widely, then shut and locked the front door behind them, pressing Sarah up against it. Their bodies and lips moved in an easy unison, the pair of them seemed to have the same egar hunger for each other. Their movements got intense, and Anita began to lead the woman out to the bedroom. 

As they fell into the bed, the other woman shed the shyness she had displayed at the bar, and took complete control. Anita gave in, always happy to let the other woman decide who was going to be dominant and who was going to be submissive. Sarah knew what she was doing, and their bodies were moving together in such a rhythm that Anita lost track of… well, everything. She lost track of time, of where she was, of who she was with, and perhaps most importantly - of who she was. 

Sarah was kissing along Anita’s collarbone, gently nibbling on the skin. As Anita began to return the favor of kissing on the other woman’s neck, she was still so lost. She slipped up. She bit down. 

At first she was hardly even aware of what she had done, it wasn’t until she felt the woman go limp on top of her that she knew. The taste lingered in her mouth, a deadly mixture of blood and venom. For what felt like an eternity she did nothing but lay there, unable and partly unwilling to process what she had just done. If she wasn’t already cold-blooded, she was sure that her blood would have turned cold as she laid there. 

Finally, she knew that she needed to do something. She couldn’t just stay there until the shame and guilt took her life too. Maybe it was because she was feeling so uneasy, but it took nearly all of her strength to push Sarah to the side in order for her to get out of the bed. Once she climbed out of the bed, her body dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks. There was a pain, a heaviness to her and she began to sob. It was an ugly cry, and she wished she could will her tears to turn back time. To have her just call up Marley instead of going to that damn bar in the first place. 

That’s when it hit her - Marley. She could help. She’d know what to do. Even if she arrested her, maybe that was for the best. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be roaming about anymore, not if she clearly couldn’t control herself. 

But as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she felt her stomach churn. Anita was slightly surprised that she had enough strength to stand up. As soon as she did, she stumbled towards the bathroom right off her room, barely making it to the toilet before she became violently ill. Sliding herself down she laid on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor for a moment. Her mind couldn’t stop flashing back to Priya. The memory of her lifeless body as her sisters tore her apart. She had spent years convincing herself that she was better than them. But tonight proved that she wasn’t capable of change. Anita was every bit the monster she feared she was. 

Desperation flooded over her as she stood up once more. She made her way back into her bedroom and pulled her phone out of the jacket she had been wearing. She went into her favorites, and clicked on Marley’s name, her heart beating faster with each ring that she heard.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART I: A COLLAR OF SPIKES}

Nessa has organised an underworld street race three towns over in Bay Haven, but an unbidden guest threatens to ruin her fun. @bebemoon​ @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules @blubbingbeautifully​

[Smash Shit Up - The Dropkick Murphys]

…I wanna be a rebel / I wanna break some bones… The stranger had not expected a party. Her dervish dance bounced the tawny bar lights off her silver jewelry and into the rowdy sea of singers, like spellwork. Bacchanalia for middle-aged punk rockers and genre-savvy millenials. Leaning against a vintage Guinness poster with his arms crossed and a nonchalance wholly at odds with the energy of the room - an energy he had known in the ports of Nassau or the harvest festival in Naples - he watched her black hair fly, and frowned. …Maybe they'll be yours / They might be my own… Husky voices that may, in another decade, have bellowed sea shanties in shabby taverns now chanted celtic punk choruses in downtown bars with sticky floors. Their owners raised glasses to toast the enchantress on the bar counter as they might once have a siren of the sea... Was that why he got faint whiffs of withered oak and moonshine? His nostrils flared. No, there was a memory of salty breezes around her, but also that of blood on asphalt. For a moment, he indulged in imagining her enthroned on a stack of barrels filled with rum, wearing a pinstripe suit and an Al Capone hat… ‘New in town, eh?’, said a jovial voice next to him. A scrawny guy in black wearing a tweed flat cap - true vintage, 1940s perhaps - grinned up at him. Vintage-style sailor tattoos, the stranger noted, and smells of diesel oil on his hands. He said nothing. ‘Round here, we can always tell a fella’s new, ye know - by the way he looks at our Pixie.’ The guy nodded proudly at the girl-shaped creature on the bar counter. ‘Quite something, ain’t she? All kinds of trouble, that one, but never a dull moment.’ Quite something. Yes, the stranger thought. He had expected the damp chill of the grave, or the dry musk of something withered, not this - not warmth and sweat and cold smoke and beer. ‘You here for the race? Look like the type, ye know. Not for the faint-hearted, though, that’s for sure. If you’re going against her, you better have your things in order, my friend…’, his new friend chattered on. ‘Funny’, the stranger said, almost to himself. ‘She looks almost…’ ‘Wait- did you say something?’ ‘… alive.’

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

[Voodoo People - The Prodigy (Pendulum Remix)]

The smell of burning rubber, sharp and sweet, stung in her nostrils, and Nessa huffed. That dirty, shaggy flea-bag! When she had devised an underworld street race, she had not expected to be hounded - ha!- by an actual werewolf. And a fast one, no less. She hunkered down on her bike and took the corner sharper than was probably smart, gritting her teeth as the back tire slithered over the icy asphalt. His bike roared closely behind her. No dice. He was good. Three mortals had crashed in the fist third, defeated by back alleys or night time traffic. Four of the seven vampires who had turned up to race had bitten the dirt - get it? - at the scrap yards, and she, too had almost been catapulted off her ride by an unwieldy chevvy and narrowly escaped being impaled on a 90s’ satellite antenna. Not wood, but not pretty, either. But through the neon-lit city and the downtown alleyways, the wolf had prevailed, silently tracking her. Not once had he tried to overtake her. Not that she’d have let him. Not once had he lifted his mirrored helmet shield, but she had been a vampire long enough to sense a wolf. To hell with politics, she had thought back there at the starting line, high on anticipation and roaring motors, and had reared her head, declaring the race a neutral zone and beckoning her tattooed grand marshals to give the go. Apparently, the wolf had not got the memo. Ignoring a red light, Nessa zipped through between a pickup truck and a taxi, heading for the coast. It had been fun at first, the thrill of racing an enemy of the coven, knowing that Ysa would collapse in a dead faint if she knew, and imagining Yinmei levitating away muttering ancient curses. But here, with the cold, crisp air pushing sharply against her bike and the frozen Bay in view, Nessa started to wonder if she had just been really fucking stupid. Again. Somewhere behind her, shrieking brakes and a thunderous crash hailed the disqualification of yet another racer, but the wolf clung to her like a shadow. Always the same distance. Not pushing, but not relenting, either. Nessa bit her lip and tightened her grip on the brakes. No way she was gonna let politics ruin her race. Or her fun. Bracing for the serpentine road curving down to theBbay, she leaned into each curve, sinews straining as she fought to balance the weight of the bike with the momentum of the curves. Knees scraping gently over the ice. The thrill of being suspended right there, between pure motion and a brutal crash. Left - then right - and left again… But she was starting to get annoyed - at him, and at herself. What if he was here to kill her? And she was just serving herself to him on a silver - well, not quite, but still - platter? Sure, vampires were generally stronger than wolves, or so Ysa had told her. But then again, Nessa wasn’t a great listener, so she couldn’t be sure, and she was still young for a vampire. And a sheep separated form the herd, and all that… Fuck. Okay. Nessa made a decision, in the instantaneous, short-circuit brain-glitch sort of way she made decisions, and crushed the brakes in the last curve of the road. Screaming, her bike drifted over frozen snow and spun her around, drifting. For a split second she grinned manically, delighted to have surprised the pursuing wolf. And then, as he desperately tried to pull his bike around, his machine veered into hers with a booming crunch, catapulting them both off the road. They went flying. The hard ground hit her sharply - once, twice. And again. Pain blossomed through her limbs as they tumbled downward, machines crushing them with weight and piercing skin with shrapnel. She could hear bones break- were they hers? Then her head hit the ice with a wet crunch, and her vision went red as they slid over the smooth ice, seemingly forever. And then, there was silence.

When she came to, blinking and dizzy and tasting blood, they were alone on the ice under a vast black sky, the city noise damp and far away - or was that her head ringing? She pushed herself up and got to her feet, legs trembling softly with the remembrance of a life that may have been lost, if she had been human. The bikes had left a black smudge trailing behind them, like something crushed and crawling away. She grinned. She wanted blood. She felt very alive. ‘That’, said a deep voice behind the second bike, panting, ‘was entirely uncalled for.’ She could hear his broken bones reassemble painfully, and winced at the sounds, the slurping and cracking. But then, he must be used to that, she remembered. The wolf - man, at the moment - towered there, broad shoulders taut beneath a sadly torn leather jacket, and removed his helmet. Oh, fuck. She hadn’t counted on him being that handsome - square features, black hair, piercing, dark eyes... and bloodied. Ruddy wolves. She took her helmet off, and knew her own hair was all over the place. ‘I don’t like dogs yapping and biting at my ankles’ she said, with a shrug, playing it cool. Or trying to. Her adrenalin was through the roof. ‘I’m funny like that.’ ‘You’re an absolute raving lunatic, is what you are’, he countered, but not angrily. There was a soft melody in his speech, well-worn, but distinct. Mediterranean? And had she hit her head that badly or was there just the slightest hint of approval in his voice? ‘I do what I can.’ She grinned. ‘I hear that’s usually your job.’ He ignored the jab. ‘Did you really just do that… to annoy me?’ ‘You started it, you… bloodhound.’ She crossed her arms. Now, down to business. ‘So- are you here to kill me?’ He brushed dirt and snow off his sleeves. ‘I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet.’ Honesty. She could respect that. Nessa gestured at the vast expanse of ice around them. ‘Go ahead. Knock yourself out.’ For a moment, he said nothing, just tilted his head, as if thinking. Or seizing her up. Beneath them, the ice crinkled quietly. ‘What makes you think I won’t?’ he asked, eventually. She shrugged again. ‘Nothing. I mean, you’d think by now you’d have got out your funky werewolf kung fu stuff or-’ she waved her hands - she really should have listened to Ysa more - ‘or whatever you guys are using these days.’ ‘Fire, mostly.’ The corner of his - well-shaped, wow - mouth twitched with amusement or disdain, it was hard to tell. He seemed oddly calm for a mortal enemy. ‘Well, that ain’t gonna fly out here, obviously. Pity. I do enjoy an occasional brush with death. Makes you feel that more…. Well, you know - whatever it is we are.’ ‘Right. And that triple backflip you just pulled there like some crash and burn cirque du soleil shit- that was what?’ ‘That was me telling you not to mess with me. But, like, in a fun way. ‘Cause I’m nice.’ ‘…Nice.’ He picked the word up, perplexed, as if it had suddenly become strange. A sharp cracking sound interrupted them. Oops… ‘So -’ she said, ‘if we’re all done here I’ll be on my way. Race to win and all that.’ She could feel his gaze on her as she picked up her bike. Battered and missing a few parts, but it would carry her well enough. ‘Just like that. You don’t think I won’t follow you again? Or beat you?’ The last bit with the hint of a grin. She mounted her bike and tested the engine. Still good. Phew. ‘Not with that piece of junk you won’t.’ She nodded towards what was clearly a lost cause, at least for now. That soft crackle again. A rift, razor sharp and angry, appeared in the ice. Time to go. ‘Sorry!’ she said, merrily, ignoring his quiet curses in a foreign language. Italian. Of course. And then she was off. With the engines roaring beneath her and a vicious cracking sound just below, she sped across the frozen Bay, elated, heart fluttering with triumph. All that space in front and the dark emptiness above - receding, eternal. Nessa grinned. No time to ponder the meaning of time in a deathless existence- She was free.

[kimjongdaely]

The Art of Sin [Chapter 2]

Gang!AU, Racer!AU, Tattoo Artist!AU

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations, vandalism

Summary: He’s an artist. He does it all for the ‘art.’ Tattooing. Racing. Sex. All because he thinks they’re beautiful. There’s no one here that doesn’t know his name, because it’s everywhere. On every graffiti-filled wall, every tattooed skin, every cheer of the crowd. His name is there somewhere, because it’s all his—this world. And when he lays his eyes on you—well, he’s never seen anything more beautiful. And he’s going to make you his masterpiece.

Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3 [M]│Chapter 4 [M]│Chapter 5 [M]│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8 [M]

She yelps, her body jolting at the pain. His hold on her is tight though, to keep her from moving. He’ll be damed if it ruins the tattoo.

“Wait, wait.” She cries desperately, her nails digging into the leather of the chair. “Can I take a break?”

Jongdae is reluctant to pause, but sighs. “Sure. It’s a small tattoo though, it won’t be much longer before it’s finished—”

“Please.” She shakes her head, and he can’t help but stare at the way her hair strokes her collarbones at the movement. “It really hurts.”

He nods, wiping over the area with a rag to remove blood and ink, seeing her wince. Her friend, who was sitting off to the side, comes over as Jongdae moves away, rearranging his desk and making sure his tattoo machine is in top shape.

“Looks great so far!” Her friend exclaims as she examines the area. “How much longer do you think it’ll take?”

“Maybe ten minutes.” Jongdae replies with a smile. “Just bear with the pain a little longer, ‘kay?”

She nods, jaw clenched. He can see the crescents of her nails in his chair, along with countless others that accumulated over the years. He should really buy a new one soon.

“So,” Jongdae starts, putting on his signature friendly smile. “What’s your name? Why’d you want a tattoo?”

She looks hesitant to give out her name, but eventually tells him. “It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh!” Jongdae beams. “Happy birthday! How old are you turning?”

She smiles, looking more relaxed now. “Never ask a girl her age, mister.”

He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll remember that. You ready to continue?” He asks and she nods. He smiles his famous smile; an innocent, sincere smile that got him out of every sticky situation so far. She’s a good girl. Very obedient. He likes that.

He sits in his chair again, leaning over her. Her collarbone protrudes delicately, so beautifully. It certainly is a good place for a mark. His mark. “I’ll count to three, and then I’ll start.” 

She nods again. “1…2…3.”

She yelps.

Jongdae peels the latex gloves off his hands, throwing them into the trash. There’s a knock at the door, Chanyeol poking his head inside. “You done, Dae? Wanna take a smoke?”

“Not for me.” Jongdae answers, stretching. “But I’ll keep you company.”

“I don’t need your company.” Comes Chanyeol’s snarky reply, though he holds the door for Jongdae. The garage is hot like usual, and he wipes the sweat off his brow. The smell of oil and smoke is intoxicating, his favorite smell. Or rather, he just got way too used to it, so it feels like home.

“You guys taking a break already?” Jongdae asks, noticing the lazy atmosphere. “Damn, don’t let Junmyeon know or he’ll throw a fit.”

“We work hard.” Chanyeol laughs. “We deserve a smoke every now and then.”

Sehun and Jongin are outside already, Sehun kneading his tense muscles, rolling his head side to side. Chaneyol leans against the walls of the garage, Jongdae following.

“So.” Chanyeol starts, taking out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. “That girl just now.”

“She was hot.” Sehun butts in with a sly smile. “She’s your type, isn’t she?”

Jongdae hums, neither agreeing nor denying. “Well, she was very beautiful.”

“She’s gonna come back for checkups, right?” Chanyeol grins. “You gonna make a move?”

“Worry about yourself.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “The ice-cream girl, right?”

“Fuck off, Jongdae.” He growls, exhaling the smoke. “And go fuck a girl for once.”

“Alright.” Jongdae chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jongdae kicks at the floor, staring at the walls of the garage. His hands are itching for a can of spray paint, his mind already whirring with ideas to fill the wall. He shakes his head, kicking a pebble. Junmyeon’s already berated him for spray-painting the walls too much, so he has to keep the desire in.

But that’s alright. He doesn’t really mind it. He’s doing what he loves, tattooing. It’s an honest job, and quite popular too. Keeps him creative, keeps his hands moving. Most of the time, it’s enough.

His mind falls back to the girl that was just here. He’s sure her soft groans of pain can turn into something else entirely, something beautiful. The butterfly on her collarbone is one of the best ones he’s done so far. He’s had his fair share of tattooing butterflies, but that one is somehow special, since it’s on her.

He grins, kicking the pebble all the way down the road until he can’t see it anymore. His butterfly will certainly fly right back into his hands.

You stare at your new tattoo in the mirror. You have to admit, Chen really did a good job both with the design and the actual application. You made sure to follow his directions on aftercare so that it doesn’t get infected, but he wanted you to drop by again for a quick checkup—just in case, he said.

You don’t really mind. EXO Customs isn’t that far from your apartment, and you hate to admit it…but you’re excited.

You’re excited to see Chen.

Something about him really clicked with you—or rather, you’re just really attracted to him. Nothing wrong with attraction at first sight, but a part of you wavers.

There’s something in his eyes…his smile…You’re sure there’s more to him than the friendly tattoo artist he makes himself appear as. Which is why you can’t shake off the slight feeling of impending doom, but that might be your pessimistic side exaggerating your anxieties.

Impending doom, you snicker at yourself before you throw on your black crop-top, something that will show off your new tattoo. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you head out the door.

You walk into EXO Customs, greeted by Byun again. He smiles, face lighting up in recognition. “Hey! Back for a checkup?”

“Yep.” You answer, flashing him a polite smile. You head in, where Chen’s tattoo parlor is. A tall mechanic with icy white hair flashes you a grin that seemed to hold a bunch of secrets. You look at him weirdly, but don’t dwell.

He opens the door quickly after you knock. He seems happy to see you, his eyes shining as he motions for you to come in. “How’s the tattoo? Have you followed my instructions?”

“Yeah.” You answer, sitting down on the leather chair. Your eyes scan his office, seeing the scattered papers of sketches on his desk and pinned up on the walls. “I don’t think it’s infected or anything.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Jongdae hums as he puts on his latex gloves. “Just lean back and relax, alright? I’ll take a look and make sure it’s all good. You might need a touch up—tattoos sometimes fade or peel after healing.”

You nod, relaxing yourself against the chair as he leans in. His gloved thumb traces the pattern of your butterfly, and you can feel the heat through the glove. It’s a gentle pressure, and oddly comforting. 

“Yep, looks good.” He says, leaning back. You breathe out, having been holding your breath unconsciously. “You’ve been a good girl.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the statement, leaving you embarrassed. “Uh yeah. Thanks.”

Jongdae chuckles, and you grow even more embarrassed. Oh man, you’re making a fool of yourself in front of this super hot guy. “You’re surprisingly cute.” He has a strange look in his eyes, a swirling gold within his irises that hypnotize you. He seems to be thinking before a smile graces his face.

“Well,” he says, peeling the gloves off. “You don’t seem to need a touch up. But,” his smile grows wider, anything but innocent. “If you would like one, you can come find me later, after the garage closes.”

“What?” You blurt out, confused. “What do you mean—”

He hands you his business card, tilting his head at you. He still has that smile, a mischievous smile that a good boy should never wear. It brings tingles down your spine, makes your head blur. “Well then, see you.”

And then you’re ushered out, like nothing happened.

You’re here for a touch up. You remind yourself as you pace the front of the garage. It’s closed, the lock on the door makes that very evident. There’s not a soul in sight, the silence making you second-guess your decision. 

Oh, fuck it. You’re here for anything but a ‘touch up.’ Telling you to come here after they close…you know damn well what he’s insinuating. And the worst part, the scariest part is that you don’t hate it. No, you’re excited. You’re anxious but excited and you’re totally going to regret this but you’re not at the same time.

You take a deep breath, pulling out Chen’s business card and dialing his number. It rings, and you think he might not pick up.

But then—

“Hello?”

His voice is low and husky through the phone and it makes you shiver. “Hi, Chen. It’s me. I’m outside—”

“Great.” He cuts you off. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up, and you wait. You rub your arm, the air pretty chilly now that the sun’s gone. Being here all by yourself feels unsafe, and you hope Chen will be here soon.

He’s a lot quicker than you expected. He looks a little different than when he was in his tattoo parlor. He looked a little more proper when he’s working, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. Now, with his hair swept up and a leather jacket on his shoulders, he suddenly looks a thousand times more attractive.

Your heart jumps, and your cheeks warm.

“Hey.” He greets, flashing you a grin.

“Hey.” You greet back, much quieter than he was with a lot more shyness sprinkled in. 

He takes a step towards you, as if seeing you’ll run away. You don’t. He tilts his head at you, smiling again. “Ready?”

No. Yes. You nod.

He takes your hand, his motions slow and smooth like he’s done this a million times. And he might’ve. He starts walking down the road, the feeling of his hand in yours almost too perfect. He’s warm and gentle, and your heart won’t stop hammering.

“Where are we going?” You ask, not being able to stand the silence, no matter how comfortable it was. You can’t stand listening to your rapid heartbeats, because you’re sure as hell he can hear it too.

“To a hotel.” He answers.

He brings you to a nearby hotel, checking in. It’s elegant, but definitely not high class. As you go up the elevator and make your way to your room, it’s silent. Your hands are still linked, but yours are getting sweaty and you feel so embarrassed by what you’re doing.

He unlocks the door with the keycard, leading you in. The room is dark, and has a musky scent. The door clicks shut behind you, locking.

“You sure about this?” Chen asks, holding both your hands in his gently. You can’t see him very well, but his voice is soft and soothing. “You can leave now if you want.”

You should. You should definitely leave if you’re sane and rational but you’re anything but that right now. You shake your head slowly, squeezing his hands. “I’m sure.”

Your face feels so hot right now, your whole body on fire. In the darkness, you’re anticipating it even more than usual, your senses heightened and you’re so nervous, so nervous.

But then you feel him take a step forward, his breath fanning across your cheeks and your body responds so eagerly, your excitement and nervousness spiking.

His hands trail up your arms, barely touching your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. You can feel him smile as he leans in, lips pressing against yours.

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A/N: Well, I’m definitely excited to be writing smut. And there’ll be a lot of it in the fic, so that’s something to look forward to :) I’d love to hear from you!

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