#so evil....when i get a well paying job in ten years...oh baby

[boimgfrog]

genuinely devastating that sp many of my beloved indie music artists are from overseas with low funds and will probably never tour in the USA...Lil simz...viji....teenage joans.....albatraoz... I am thinking of you always </3

[ghostdrew22]

Draco admires you with your kids and their friends

SOFT || Draco Malfoy

Requested: Yes Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: one minor injury that involves blood but other than that, nothing!

WORDS : 1767

~

“Cass, come on, please put that down?” Draco asks with an exasperated tone as he runs after your daughter- who’s running around the living room with an evil giggle. “Scorpius, don’t you dare-“

Draco gets cut off by the sound of glass shattering as your son, Scorpius, and his friend, Liam, drop a vase off the table. He stops mid-run and sighs heavily as he runs his hands down his face.

Draco has always wanted children. For as long as he can remember he’s wanted children so that he could fill the gaping hole that was left by the lack of affection from his father. But that same hole, that very same resulting trauma, has always made him think that he just can’t do it, that he’ll end up exactly like his own father. And it’s always moments like these that make him doubt his abilities, moments like these that make him wonder if in comparison to his own father he’s too soft.

Draco would’ve never gotten away with half the stuff that your children do at this age, but also he never really had much of a childhood anyway. In a way, being a stay-at-home dad helps him make up for that and recover long lost moments of adolescence that he never had the opportunity to experience. Moments like this, in which he has to chase around your chaotic children and try not to get drunk on the sound of their elated and mischievous giggles, that he still doesn’t know if he’s earned it yet, despite the fact that he’s become a teddy bear in comparison to his own father.

The first time the two of you had discussed children you’d both agreed that one of you would be a stay-at-home parent, and at the time you’d been happy to follow in your mother’s footsteps and volunteer for the role. But then you fell pregnant and hesitated to submit your resignation papers so, in a moment of rushed and haphazard courage, Draco resigned instead and fully committed to the stay-at-home dad lifestyle, despite his perpetual fear of failure, so that you could have the advantage of both motherhood and a successful career. Draco hated his ministry job and you, paradoxically, did not- it was a win-win situation.

So now he stands in your living room, wearing an apron with your daughter’s favourite tv character on it, feeling very exasperated and out of sorts at the overwhelming responsibility of having to supervise your children’s playdates.

You walk into the living room and take in the scene- Cass, holding one of Draco’s old academic trophies as her and Jade run around with paint on their faces, and the boys wrestling on the ground, awkwardly close to the remnants of a broken vase- stopping behind your husband to wrap your arms around his waist and plop a kiss up onto his cheek. He softens into your touch and turns to kiss the side of your forehead before you sink off your tiptoes and onto the heels of your feet. “Need some help?”

To say that your twins are a handful would be an understatement, now add to that two other children with just as much chaotic energy? An absolute disaster. You’d told Draco that taking them to the zoo or the park for the playdate would’ve been a better idea but he insisted on celebrating the twin’s birthday at home and you’d obliged to his wishes. Now, he regrets not listening to you.

“If you don’t mind, that would be great.” He pouts at you and you laugh lightly at his frustration.

“Boys, break it up. Girls, freeze right now.” All the kids halt their movements and quickly turn their heads to face you with wide eyes, “There’s a cake that needs to be cut up and eaten in the next thirty minutes but I don’t think you have earned it.”

“No, we have!”

“Please mum? We’ve been good!”

Draco scoffs at your daughter’s blatant lie of having been good and you bite back a smile. “I’m sure you have, but if you really want the cake then I’m going to need you all to play a couple of games of hide and seek outside first. The winner gets the biggest slice.”

They all squeal in excitement and hurry to run out to the garden so that they can play. You quickly mutter a charm to repair the vase and turn to your husband who’s looking at you with a mixture of exhaustion and adoration.

“You’re my saviour.” He breathes out and you smile, “Somehow you spend less time with them and still manage to handle them better.”

“A mother’s touch love.” You giggle and give him a quick peck.

“I wish this mother would touch me.” He hints as he pulls you in by the waist with a grin.

“You’re so-“

A sharp cry from down the hall cuts you off and you both sigh. “I’ll go get him.” You reply.

“I’ll get the cake ready.”

~

The kids all come running into the kitchen excitedly at the sound of your voice calling for them to get cake. You smile at the sound of their giggles erupting into the kitchen as you play with the recently awoken baby in your arms, but your smile is gone as quick as it came at the sound of a light yelp and cry coming from one of the older kids.

Without missing a beat you rush toward the sound and find that it’s Jade harbouring a thin, but rather long, cut along the expanse of her leg and right below her knee. Draco can see that you’re moving to help her and he holds his hands out for the baby but you pay him no attention and, somehow, manage to lift the 8 year-old into your other arm and carry her up onto the kitchen counter- while still straddling your son on your hip.

“What happened sweetie?” You ask your friend’s daughter gently as you make to grab antiseptic, cotton wool and a bandage from under the sink- the place you and Draco had taken to storing them after the kids came back from playing outside with injuries one too many times.

“I think I scraped my leg against the edge of the little gate by the door.” She points toward the door that leads out to the garden and you nod in acknowledgement- knowing exactly which gate she’s referring to.

“Come here my little skittles, give mum some space to breathe.” Draco figures it’s best not to interrupt you and gestures for the other children to come toward him. They all shuffle their feet against the tile nervously as they keep their eyes trained on their friend.

“I’m so sorry love, we’ll make sure to get that fixed for next time you come over, yeah?” You ask her with furrowed eyebrows and she nods perkily. “This is going to hurt a bit, but I know that you’re a very brave girl so if you can close your eyes, count to ten for me and squeeze my hand that would be great.” She nods and follows your instructions- grabbing hold of your outstretched hand that sits underneath the baby’s bottom- while you dowse some cotton wool in antiseptic and drag it softly down the injury.

She winces but doesn’t cry, counting to ten as instructed and trying to focus on the promise of cake waiting or her, and soon enough you’ve already draped the bandage over her leg.

Draco watches the scene unfold with a look of admiration coating his features. It’s in this moment that he sees why you became an auror- no matter the situation you always present a fierce, prepared and oddly comforting energy- it’s one of the reasons he fell so deeply in love with you and it’s a quality of yours that he hopes both of your children will inherit.

“Thank you aunt Y/N.” She smiles up at you and your heart wrenches at the sight. You give her a kiss on the forehead and help her off the counter.

“You are very welcome, Jade. And I think you’ve earned the biggest slice of cake, what do you guys think?” You turn to the other children with an inquisitive gaze and they all nod quickly in agreement- wanting desperately to make their injured friend feel better. “Okay, bottoms in seats then!”

All the kids scramble to find seats around the table as you go about handing them each a plate with cake in it- making sure to give Jade the biggest slice. 
Draco knows that he should feel envious at how easily you get the kids to bend at your will despite the fact that he spends way more time with them, but all he can feel is an immense sense of love and pride swelling in his heart. He feels soft.

He knows that the ‘woman can have it all’ mantra is often misleading and impractical but the truth is that you can have it all. Somehow you juggle your family and work so well it almost looks flawless, and while he knows how hard you work to keep it all steady, he still always finds himself speechless at how well you do it. Even after spending countless nights reassuring you that you’re not a bad mother for wanting a career, he can’t seem to understand why you’d ever doubt your abilities when he watches you in action.

Badass auror in the papers, loving mother in the house and generous lover in the-

“Draco?”

“Oh, sorry love, did you say something?” He blinks back his thoughts and smiles down at you.

You tilt your head backwards in a laugh and move to hand your husband the baby, “I was asking what you want to get for dinner? Blaise and Luna are picking up Jade and Liam soon so I thought that maybe we could just order in for dinner tonight?”

“That sounds lovely actually, I’m not particularly interested in cooking or eating Flora’s burnt food.” He says with a grimace- referring to your very incompetent house elf.

“You really should fire her.”

“She’s got nowhere else to go.” He pouts and you roll your eyes.

“When did you become so soft?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he shrugs as he watches you speak sweetly to your son that he’s got in his arms.

In that moment he already knows the answer, he became so soft the minute you came into his life, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I won hide and seek by the way, so that cake was rightfully mine.” Scorpius grumbles out- even though he wears the signature Malfoy grin on his lips- and you all laugh at his random outburst.

<~>

So there’s my first ever request! I hope I did it justice, it was a little difficult to put someone else’s vision down and into words but it was a really nice challenge and I’d like to do more so please feel free to request moreeee.

Jean <3

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Blithe (M)

Kim Namjoon Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: “Blithe (adj.) - showing a casual and cheerful indifference considered to be callous or improper.” In which you face the consequences of not paying attention to your not-so-innocent behavior.

•••> Pairing(s): Namjoon/Reader, slight Namjoon/Reader/Yoongi

•••> Requested by Anon: “I have a request for a one shot 💜 three words: namjoon, daddy kink 👀 (p. s. love u)”

•••> Word Count: 6.25k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | Established Relationship!AU (Engaged) | Fiancé!Joon | Namjoon!AU | Dominant!Namjoon | Submissive!Reader | Daddy!Joon | LittleGirl!Reader

•••> Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, slight choking/strangulation, spanking (lots), dirty talk, slight bondage, Daddy/Little Girl relationship, Joonie is PISSED, but he’s also caring, cursing, pining, mention(s) of a threesome, immense teasing, rough sex, punishment time

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! This was a bit to unpack for me, but here you go! I hope you enjoy :) And I love you too!

~#~

“But baby, we were supposed to stay in tonight.” You trapped the phone between your shoulder and ear, pausing your task of draining the pasta noodles in the titanium sink.

You were making a simple dinner for the two of you so that you could have a nice, quiet night dining on your balcony. Maybe get a little frisky and do the dirty over the railing afterward.

Your plans were completely smashed, however, when your fiancé called to cancel your plans, yet again, to work late.

“I know, my love. But I need to finish these layouts for Taehyung before tomorrow. You know how he gets if the displays aren’t in order in time.” Namjoon sighed audibly, to which you sighed with him in disappointment.

“Why can’t we just have a little bit of time together? I thought getting engaged would kind of organize our lives a little more.” You whined, dropping the empty pot back onto the counter. Just one night, God. That’s all I ask. Just one damned night with my husband-to-be.

Namjoon’s voice interrupted you, a beacon in the silence you received as a response to your plea.

“We’ll get our time. I promise, babe. Listen, I gotta go. Don’t wait up for me, okay?” You could hear his voice move away from the phone for a moment during his reply, a clear indicator that he was needed.

“Alright.” You replied dejectedly. The last you heard from him was a brisk ‘I love you’ before several beeps indicated the end of the call, taking away your opportunity to return the sentiment.

With a huff, you took your phone from your shoulder and lightly tossed it onto the counter in frustration- still mindful of breaking it, of course. He just had to work late again. On a Sunday evening. Right before your classes begun again. Of fucking course.

You were saying goodbye to the summer with a bit of an indifferent attitude; your “vacation” was filled with working a full-time job, worrying about bills, and getting engaged to Namjoon whilst a pandemic loomed over the world’s shoulders. To say that you actually had a summer was a bit generous considering all of the normal occurrences that were no longer considered “the norm.”

Despite your stressful schedule, Namjoon was always there to calm the storms brewing inside your mind. Since the moment you started dating freshman year, his words of wisdom and natural calming effect kept the worry from suffocating you.

You were always an over-thinker. Since you could remember, you worried about every single minute detail of your life. When Namjoon asked you to be his girlfriend across a table of the university’s café, you stared at him and waited for him to tell you that he was being facetious. Surely he didn’t actually like you, right? A man like Namjoon had no business wanting to date a girl like you- or so you thought.

“So…” You trailed off, coffee cup in your hand slightly dented from your tight grip. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

You admit, your tone was a little monotonous and emotionless- an instant defense mechanism due to your belief that he was playing a cruel joke on you. Staring into his eyes through the lenses of his glasses, however, you only found sincerity gazing back at you.

“Y/N,” He reached out and placed his hand over yours on the cup, automatically soothing your grip on the poor thing. “I’ve liked you for months now. I’d honestly really like it if you could be my girlfriend.”

You stared at his hand over yours, loving the warmth and softness as it calmed your racing mind. He actually wanted you to be his girlfriend? Like, the type to hold hands and kiss and maybe fuck a little?

Oh good lord, how you wanted to fuck him.

Being friends with Namjoon was filled with positivity in everything except your sex life. Sure, you didn’t really have one being a double major and all, but that didn’t prevent your imagination from running away from you whenever you studied him too closely.

You’d stare at him from time to time, imagining nasty things that you would do with him, but it only left you aching and wanting with a very damp patch in your panties every time. You were thirsted to the brink of desperation, finding yourself close to downloading Tinder just to have a dick to fuck yourself onto. But no, even that felt like a betrayal to Namjoon despite his lack of knowing that you imagined sitting on his face almost every night.

So once you actually started dating Namjoon, to say you were nervous to get between the sheets with him was an understatement. You were fucking terrified. Numerous anxious thoughts filled your mind.

What if he doesn’t like my body? What if I cum too fast like I know I will and he gets disappointed? What if I’m too loud or too annoying? Oh god, I should probably do some ‘research’ on how a Virgo man like Namjoon likes his women in bed.

You didn’t have time to worry too much, because the very next week, you and Namjoon had sex for the first time- research and all flying out the window. He wasn’t soft and vanilla but he wasn’t a monster either. It was a gorgeous balance that you found yourself loving immediately.

Through the years, your sex life had remained exciting and utterly adventurous, always ready to try new things.

Tonight, an evil idea crossed your mind in your sexual frustration. You hadn’t had sex with Namjoon in over a week, okay? You can’t be blamed.

A small snack, shower, and a few glasses of wine later, you found yourself freshly shaven and draped across your black living room couch with a romance movie playing on the TV. You wore Namjoon’s favorite set of lingerie, preparing yourself in your wine-buzzed state of mind for your plan.

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you unlocked it and opened Snapchat to start a new chat conversation with Namjoon. You typed out your message to him and waited a moment before typing another when he didn’t open it immediately.

Babeeeeeeeeee

I’m hornyyyyyyy

Setting your phone back down on the table, you resumed watching the movie for a few minutes in wait, only to grow disappointed when ten minutes ticked by without a notification from Namjoon. Instead of waiting any longer, you picked up your phone again and decided to send him a video, double-tapping his name and readying yourself.

Once you held down the button to record, you put on your bedroom show.

The light from the TV cast the perfect glow on your body, emphasizing shadows on your curves and ridges, which did most of the work for you. You knew that he wouldn’t turn up the volume at work so you didn’t bother speaking. All you did was use your free hand to lightly trace your fingers over your skin, grasping your breast in your hand and lightly squeezing it through the black material of the lace bra piece.

After releasing the record button, you watched the video once, put a filter on it and watched it again, and then removed the filter once you decided that you didn’t need it. You watched it one last time with a satisfied smirk on your lips, sending it right after.

Carrying on with the photos and videos with the occasional cute or sexy message written in them, you grew upset by the fact that Namjoon hadn’t opened a single one in the last twenty minutes. Finally, you settled to touching yourself on camera and bringing yourself to the brink of a climax more than once only to deny yourself to make the allure of the videos even more difficult to resist.

You could only take so much before you grew irritated in your slightly drunken stupor, checking the time to find that it had been an hour since your first message to your fiancé. A groan of annoyance sounded from your throat and you finally gave up the patience to have some sexy time over the phone with him. So much for new things. I thought we were going to have a use for phone sex more often.

Tossing your phone to the other end of the couch, you continued to busy your hand on yourself, picturing Namjoon as the one touching you- as you always did on lonely nights like this one.

Once you finished the last drops of your wine, you took the bottle to the kitchen and dropped it into the recycling bin before heading to your bedroom with sinful thoughts in mind. Stripping yourself of the uncomfortable garments, you collapsed into the bed and got comfortable in preparation to finally finish yourself off.

Completely unaware of your phone lit up with a string of missed calls and snapchat notifications in the living room, you brought yourself your orgasm. As unsatisfying as it was without the help of your fiancé, you still managed to be relaxed enough to turn in for the night with the wine pairing in to send you off. You sighing contently despite missing your other half.

_______________________________

Namjoon was furious as he drove home well over the speed limit.

He remembers the exact moment his switch was flipped.

His phone was bribed with elongated vibrations in his pocket, a sign that someone was messaging him on Snapchat, as he stood over the planning table. Upon a brief glance at the screen, once he pulled it out, he saw that it was you. Being notifications on Snapchat instead of regular text messages or calls, he knew the issue wasn’t an emergency.

Instead of opening them, he went right back to work after turning on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ He was working extra hard to clear up his schedule for the next few days, knowing that you would appreciate the extra time he put in once he was able to stay home for you. So he needed to stay focused.

Of course, he would be staying home for himself too.

Namjoon longed to have you in his arms. Longed to hold you and touch you and feel your skin on his. Namjoon felt his slacks grow slightly tight as he let his imagination wander from him. The last time he had sex with you was over a week ago. Could you blame him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts so that he wouldn’t get hard in the middle of his office, he went back to work.

It wasn’t until an hour later when he finally sat in his chair to take a break.

“Hey, Namjoon?” A voice called him from his state of relaxation, prompting him to look at the source of the voice.

Min Yoongi stood in the doorway of his office, slightly shaking and shifting uncomfortably in his spot. Namjoon quickly stood up and approached him with concern for your friend.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” Namjoon fired at him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Yoongi looked down with a slight blush to his cheeks and Namjoon raised his eyebrow expectantly.

Instead of replying- he wasn’t very good at voicing embarrassment- Yoongi lifted his phone that was clutched in his hand and turned it so that the screen faced Namjoon, displaying a picture of a very familiar body clad in a very familiar set of lingerie with a hand placed over her core.

That’s Y/N. Namjoon’s blood ran cold.

Across the bottom of the screen was a sentence in the snapchat text box that read: ‘Come home soon, Joonie. I miss you… obviously lol’

For a split second, he thanked whatever god was looking out for him that the picture was intended for him, but the relief was swiftly replaced by jealousy and anger once he realized you accidentally sent a photo of yourself to his coworker. He understood that you and Yoongi talked- and that you were good friends- but his jealous side loomed over his head because he was the only one allowed to see your body.

The older man noticed Namjoon’s change in demeanor quickly, knowing that the younger man was upset. Yoongi was fast to defend himself.

“Namjoon, I swear that I had noth-“ Namjoon was quick to interrupt him.

“Yoongi, you did nothing wrong. Just forget the picture ever happened, hm?” Namjoon couldn’t pretend to not notice the way Yoongi’s smaller and very obviously nervous frame slightly peaked his interest.

“Of course.” Yoongi nodded and tapped on the screen so that it would disappear.

As Namjoon turned back around and went to sit in his chair, Yoongi perked up.

“I know that you told me that the two of you have been trying new things and- forgive me if I’m overstepping-” Yoongi gulped and toyed with his phone case, unable to maintain eye contact with his coworker. “But, uh… if you ever want a third-” Namjoon cut him off again before he could continue, thoughts already heading towards the subject that the older man was addressing.

“Noted.” He said curtly. “We’ll consider it.”

Namjoon saw the small smile at the corner of Yoongi’s lips, fighting the urge to smile with him. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Very well.” Namjoon bid. “Please close the door behind you.”

Once Yoongi left and enclosed Namjoon in his office, Namjoon sat back in silence for a moment, attempting to control the storm in his mind. Pulling out his phone, he gawked for a moment at the amount of notifications from you.

Snapchat

26 Notifications

Why would you message him so many times? You know that he’s busy. Regardless, Namjoon took this time to open them.

And he watched every second.

So yes, Namjoon was still furious when he came home to find you fast asleep in your shared bed, stark naked and sprawled out.

He tried calling you, snap chatting you, texting you; he tried everything to contact you so that he could tell you that he was on his way home. To no avail, his efforts went unanswered only to discover that exhaustion had won against you.

He couldn’t blame you for being needy. He couldn’t be angry when you laid there so damn cutely. Namjoon knew that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you.

But he could blame you for not paying attention and sending a thirst trap to someone who wasn’t him- even if it was someone who could potentially be involved with the two of you later on.

So yes, Namjoon was furious.

_______________________________

A stinging pain burned your ass, jolting you from sleep with a start.

You yelped, body whipping around to address the sensation, only to be grabbed and held with your back tightly pressed up against another body, restrained by arms circling your waist. One arm nudged itself underneath your breasts while you stood on your knees.

Namjoon. You immediately recognized the feel of him, sighing with relief. Your heart calmed with your body as you slumped back against him.

“Why’d you do that?” You whined, relaxing your neck back to rest your head on his shoulder. His breath brushed the side of your face and trailed down your naked chest. “That hurt.”

“Because someone decided to be a naughty little girl.” He growled against the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your cartilage. You instantly became hyperaware of the bulge pressing into your naked ass, a shock of hot desire cramming itself straight into your clit in a throbbing pulse. You quivered softly.

“I needed you so much and you never came.” You whimpered as he moved his mouth lower to suckle on the skin on your shoulder.

“I know, darling, and I’m sorry. I did tell you I was staying late, though.” He tightened his hold around your body, hands curling into the flesh of your waist. “You should have listened.”

You shifted in his hold, attempting to escape it so that you could face him, but he wouldn’t let you move. Your naked body was hot with desire and he kept you bound to him tightly.

“I wanted to listen. Believe me, I did. But I wanted to do something good for the both of us.” You raised and arm to curl around the back of his neck, wanting more intimacy and closeness. “Those pictures made me feel good.”

“Did you want Yoongi to feel good too?” He said menacingly in your ear. Confusion flooded you, eyebrows immediately furrowing.

“What?”

“I said-“ Namjoon raised a hand from your body to grip your jaw in his grasp, dragging your gaze to his. “Did you want Yoongi to feel good too?”

“Joon. What are you talking about?” You were concerned, wondering why he was getting so worked up.

Were you talking to Yoongi too much? Namjoon was never jealous over your friendship with Yoongi. He was nice and kind to the both of you. Although more on the quiet side, he seemed to fit in quite nicely when he was around you and your fiancé.

“Seeing how you’re acting like you don’t know any better, I’ll treat you like you don’t know any better, little girl.” He growled again, anger obvious. He released his hold on you and pushed you forward. “Elbows and knees. Ass in the air. Now.”

You scrambled into position, excitement coursing through your veins as the adrenaline spiked your heart rate once again.

Hands trembling, you gripped the bed sheets in anticipation, biting your lip. The sound of Namjoon’s belt buckle coming undone and his trousers hitting the floor only caused the heat in your core to increase tenfold. The bed dipped down shortly afterwards and you craned your head to peak at his partially-undressed body with boxers restraining his cock. A short smack was delivered to your thigh, followed by a curt statement, “Eyes to the front, brat.”

You obeyed his command immediately, feeling him slide into a kneeling position with his legs below your stomach.

“Lay across my legs.” He murmured, hand lightly pressing down on the small of your back where it was arched. You lowered your body, draping yourself across his lap while attempting to stop your body from vibrating with pure joy. His hand slid to your right ass cheek, rubbing tender circles into the skin.

“You think it’s okay to share yourself with others?” A sharp sting licked its way across your backside, force jolting your body forward and pain eliciting a whimper from your lips, yet you couldn’t help the clench of your cunt with the sound of Namjoon spanking you incredibly loud in the quiet room.

Namjoon’s hand was quick to soothe the pain, resuming his ministrations over the afflicted area.

“No.” You wavered. Another smack, softer this time, was delivered. A yelp slipped past your lips as your body reacted to the delicious pain.

“You will address me as daddy from now on, understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your vocal cords struggled to maintain balance with your breathlessness, resulting in your response coming out as a whisper. Namjoon’s hand clapping against you was unexpected, pain scorching against the now-tender skin. The sensation of your hot skin slightly raising made you mindful of the fact that you would definitely bruise.

“What was that?” He asked. You tensed as his free hand slid to enclose your neck in its grip, tightening.

“Y-yes, daddy.” You said with a bit more volume despite the pressure on your trachea. Namjoon released his grip but left his hand placed on your throat.

“Good girl,” He cooed lowly, shivering at the new name that you called him. He liked it very much. “Very good girl.”

You couldn’t help but bristle proudly under Namjoon’s compliment, juices now beginning to slightly trickle down from the apex of your thighs.

“Elbows and knees.” Namjoon directed as he removed himself from below you and took away much of the heat you were feeling. “Let’s talk.”

You stared at the bed in confusion. Why were we talking now? You thought he was going to fuck you.

“So,” He began from behind you. “If you know that it’s not okay to share yourself with others, why did you share your body with Yoongi?”

What.

“Namjoon,” You turned your head to look at him seriously from your position, breaking out of the tense moment. He stood a few feet away from the bed with his black work shirt unbuttoned and rolled up at the sleeves, pectoral muscles peaking from in-between the split. The sight was accompanied by the slight appearance of a nipple and his toned abdomen. “What in the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eyes to the front or I will fucking strap you down right now.” His reply, brimming with fury and warning, was no match for your concern.

“Namjoon.” You grit out with a fiery gaze. “If you think that I chea- Joonie!“

You didn’t get a chance to finish your statement because Namjoon moved toward you and pounced, engulfing your body with his own. Your strength was no match for his weight on top of you, causing both of you to collapse to the bed. Swiftly, Namjoon grabbed both of your wrists and held them down. You automatically turned your head so that your face wouldn’t be pressed into the mattress.

“I fucking know that you didn’t, Y/N.” Namjoon graveled through his teeth into your ear. His lips just barely ghosted over your ear lobe. “But you did do something naughty.”

His hand slid below your hip to your core, harshly cupping it and forcing a groan from deep in your chest.

“Tell me,” Namjoon let a single finger press between your folds, the minimal sensation warranting your body to shudder again. You shifted your weight so that you could arch your back and give his hand more room to work underneath you. “When you were sending me the photos, did you really pay attention?”

“Nam-“ His grip on your wrist served as a reminder of the name he wanted you to call him. You corrected yourself quickly, back in the mood. “-Daddy. I did, I swear.”

“Are you sure about that?” His finger began trailing up and down your slit, bringing some of your wetness over your pussy lips. You needed him on your clit, desperately.

“Y-yes, daddy. I’m sure. I remember everything I said and everything I did for you.” You pressed your backside into his pelvis as you arched your back, feeling his clothed dick slightly separating your ass cheeks.

“Stop moving.” He commanded. You froze on the spot as he continued to toy with your juices. “And I guess you really don’t know what you did, huh?”

“Daddy, no.” You keened as his finger dipped into your depths, pushing through your slick walls to nestle against your sensitive spot with ease. Softly and lightly, he stroked it, sending your mind into a horny stupor.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to teach you to pay attention. Sending a photo of you touching yourself to Yoongi isn’t a mistake you can make.”

His finger left you instantly, along with his body, as you were left to think about what he just said.

Yoongi got a photo of me? How in the- Oh fuck. Namjoon must be livid.

Almost as soon as Namjoon got off of you, he was grabbing you and flipping you over, evoking a short scream of surprise at being manhandled so abruptly.

Now, with an unobstructed view of him, you were rendered mute by the way Namjoon’s daddy persona exhumed a physical change in him. As he slid his shirt and boxers off of his body, you were trying to find the words to say in response to his statement, but you were terribly distracted by bulging muscle and his delicious stature along with an expression of reprimand gracing his facial features.

Before you could even attempt to discuss the issue, Namjoon was picking up his slacks from the floor and sliding his belt out of the belt loops whilst he spoke again.

“Put your wrists together and spread your legs, brat.” He approached the bed with his belt in hand, watching you eagerly obey him with a slight smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. Namjoon used his belt to bind your wrists together while you struggled to suppress the elation from the thought of getting fucked while restrained.

Once he had the belt wrapped around your wrists, he grabbed it and pushed it down to the bed with your arms having no option but to follow. He leaned down over you with your arms so that he could come face-to-face with you.

“Pay attention to me fucking you. I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.” He rumbled. You felt his breath fan over your face which was, with no doubt, displaying your anticipation.

Namjoon looked down for a moment as he grabbed his dick with his free hand to rub it against your parted lips. Your slick was already pouring out of your depths, gathering on the head of his dick when he passed it over your opening. Nudging your clit only served to arouse you further into insanity. You tipped your head back in preparation to be filled.

A sharp slap on the inside of your thigh made you snap your head back up to look at him in question.

“I told you to fucking pay attention.” His voice rose slightly, making you feel like you were indeed about to be reprimanded for getting distracted.

“Yes, daddy.” You whispered, casting your eyes down to where your bodies were about to join. He followed your gaze shortly after, continuing his massage on your core.

Your heartbeat picked up instantly when he placed himself at your opening.

“Watch me fill this little pussy.” He murmured before sinking into you. The weight of his hand holding your arms to the bed lessened as he removed his hand from his dick and placed it on the bed to support himself while he moved.

You whimpered quietly at the feeling of him pushing into you so fast. The stretch burned slightly and you shifted your hips uncomfortably. Namjoon leaned down and pressed his lips to your jaw.

“Sh, darling,” He whispered soothingly. “I got you.”

With your view of him slowly rearing back and entering you interrupted by his body, you decided to let your head fall back again to help accommodate the subsiding pain. A few more pumps of his dick later and you were only feeling bliss with hopes that he would speed up soon. Your small moans keyed Namjoon in on the fact that you weren’t uncomfortable anymore, warranting him to lightly nip your neck and sit up. You followed his movement with your eyes.

Namjoon looked down at your already-wrecked form, staring at you heatedly. You couldn’t fucking breathe past the lust that filled your veins when he was looking this hot and in charge- this daddy-like. Breath held in wait of his next move, you saw a smirk grace his lips, causing your walls to constrict around his girth.

In response to your excitement, he pulled your bound hands back up and slid them over his head, looping them behind his neck. Then, he slid his arms underneath your thighs and picked you up, carrying you with your legs spread open in his lap.

“Now watch me fucking destroy you.”

You cried out and dug your fingernails into your palms as your fiancé raised you up and dropped you onto his dick, impaling you deeply with it. Before you could even fathom how far inside you he was going, he repeated the action again.

Namjoon began at a vicious beat, your body subjected to letting him control you like a doll. His warm, brown eyes were locked on yours as he fucked you, holding your ogle intensely and preventing you from looking away- even as you fought the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

His dick pumping into you had your toes curling. Every time he bottomed out, he pulled your legs closer to his body to touch his chest against yours. Despite his tight embrace, you could barely stay straight up with the sensations he was giving you.

“You know you only belong to me, right little girl?” He leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your neck, sucking in the skin to bite down. Once he released it, he laved his tongue over the affected spot and moved to get to work your shoulder.

A particularly hard thrust had you screaming your response, head craning back in ecstasy. “Yes, daddy! All yours!”

With his arms below you and his hands clutching onto your backside, Namjoon had easy access to deliver another spank in the same spot he had spanked you minutes before. You howled out a cry with tears welling in your eyes despite the pain adding to the pressure building between your hips.

Unable to find another way to let out your automatic instinct to pull your fiancé close with your orgasm approaching, you resorted to pulling him by his neck with your bound hands, kissing him sloppily. Hopefully, he would be there to catch you when you finally fell to the throes of your climax.

“Daddy,” You moaned against his lips. “Gonna cum.”

And then he stopped.

Movement ceased. Friction stopped. The battering inside you came to a halt and you looked at him with panicked eyes, desperation controlling every aspect of your mind once your orgasm was completely and absolutely denied.

“Oh? You’re going to come? Without asking?” He pulled away and smirked at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“Daddy, please. I-I need it.” You dug your face into his neck, attempting to move yourself on his dick to regain some of the mind-numbing sensation.

Namjoon only laughed in response. “Oh? You need it? How badly do you need it, darling?”

“So bad. Sososo bad.” You were rambling- begging shamelessly- now while tears began to trickle down your face and onto his skin. “I need you. Please.”

Namjoon dropped the two of you to the mattress, allowing your legs to fall to the sides. With your hands still bound, you pulled him down to you so that you could kiss him again but was left confused when he resisted.

“Nuh-uh.” He clicked his tongue. “You want it? I’ll give it to you.”

Before you could even ask, Namjoon was removing your hands from around his neck and flipping you over. You immediately raised your ass and arched your back excitedly.

“The little girl is ready for me, isn’t she?” Namjoon rumbled out a laugh, placing a hand on your ass. You flinched slightly at the contact seeing as you were expecting another smack, but you couldn’t even answer because, quickly, he swiped his thumb over your exposed pussy. Namjoon loved the way it was widened by his dick. “Oh, look at you all fucked open by me. Just wait until I fill it up.”

“Please fill me up, daddy.” You pleaded, forehead pressing down into the mattress.

“As my little brat wishes.” He acquiesced to your request, pressing his dick between your spread ass cheeks in ready.

You weren’t expecting him to act on it so quickly, thinking he would tease you some more, but you only moaned into the sheets as he entered you again. The previous fire in the pit of your stomach that burnt out those few moments ago was quickly rekindled. His hands clapped into a vice-like grip on your hips, fingernails digging into the flesh and surely breaking the skin, as he began his pace all over again.

“D-“ A savage thrust interrupted the whimpered word, shooting your body forward. “Daddy.”

Namjoon was reaching a new depth and angle within you, and when his dick began directly pummeling that oh so sweet spot inside of you once again, your brain might as well have reset and kick started a speed race towards your orgasm.

You couldn’t even focus on the way he was fucking into you when his own grunts and moans of pleasure were filling your ears nor the way your orgasm seemed to have come upon you within moments due to your oversensitivity from a denied orgasm.

“Daddy, please let me come. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum.” You chanted, feeling numb whilst tightening your entire body in attempt to control your body during climax. You almost didn’t feel the sensation of your fiancé grabbing you by your waist and lifting your body so that your back could meet his chest.

The clapping sounds of your bodies only got louder and the squelching sounds of your pussy eagerly taking him in only got more sinful from the new position. With your arms in front of you, you had no choice but to loop them back around Namjoon’s neck behind you.

“Cum, little girl. Cum all over my cock so I can fill up your pretty cunt.” He growled. He removed a hand from your hip to place it on your jaw so that he could turn your head o face him. Your eyes fluttered as you felt your walls begin to seize up and he took this as a sign to quickly cover your mouth with his own.

The inferno of pleasure within you grew too hot and burst moments later, your body seizing and jerking with each of his pumps into your tightening body. Hissing through his teeth from the sensation of you squeezing yourself around him, Namjoon attempted to swallow your screams with his lips whilst chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” He ground out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Namjoon’s climax followed shortly after yours, pressing his hips into your ass with as much pressure as he could muster to ensure that his essence painted your walls as deeply as possible. Groaning with his release, he laved his tongue over your lips and into your mouth sloppily.

The two of you, spent and breathless, didn’t stay in your position for long. He knew that you were uncomfortable and that your wrists were probably going to bruise. The roleplay was over and there was no need to keep you restrained anymore.

Pulling out, Namjoon watched as his cum streamed down your thighs and onto the bed. You grimaced at the unpleasant sensation and the fact that it was now soiling the bed.

He got up quickly, smiling, and after rolling over onto your back with exhaustion, you watched the beautiful grin spread across his lips with dimples in his cheeks. You couldn’t but smile blissfully in return.

“I’m not actually mad at you, my love. You know that, right?” He grabbed the wipes from your bathroom as he spoke.

“Oh, I know. But it would be really hot if you could pretend to be mad a little more often.” You giggled, widening your legs for him as he cleaned you up. “That whole ‘Daddy Joon’ thing suits you incredible well.”

“Oh, does it now?” He snickered while reaching for the belt. “Hold on, let me undo this.”

Once the belt was unwrapped from your wrists, you rubbed them soothingly. “Ow.” You muttered.

Namjoon balled up the wipes and threw them in the trashcan. Once he was done, he picked you up bridal style and carried you from the room.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“To the kitchen.” He laughed heartily. “We have a pasta dinner to eat.”

“But I need to put clothes on!” You protested. He only placed you down in front of the counter before walking to the fridge, completely butt-naked. He just kept laughing.

“We’re in our own house, Y/N. No need to worry about trivial things like clothes.” He pulled out the Tupperware that you packed the noodles and pasta sauce in earlier while you watched. Shrugging, unable to argue with his reasoning, you turned to grab the plates and silverware from the cabinet.

“Oh, by the way,” Namjoon set the noodles in the microwave and set it to warm them up. “Yoongi asked us if we wanted a third.”

You paused in shock, turning to look at him. His form, even in normal lighting, was mouthwatering to look at. Broad shoulders sat upon a wide chest graced with lean pectoral muscles. His biceps, bulging with light ridges of veins running down to his hands, had gotten bigger in the last few months. When he smiled, allowing his dimples to dent his cheeks, there was no way any woman would be able to resist him.

And you were his woman.

“Yoongi?” You drew up an eyebrow at the thought, remembering that you had sent him a photo of yourself by accident. You also remembered Yoongi to be a very calming and relaxed man who was very easy on the eyes. He was your friend, after all. “Really?”

“To be honest with you, I’m kind of considering it. It would be exciting to try having a third.” He leaned against the counter with his hands gripping the edge.

“I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you and only you.” You laughed incredulously.

“Well,” He stalked towards you and placed his hands on the counter on either side of your naked body, leaning in. He was so close that you felt the body heat radiating off his skin. 

“I can make certain exceptions to your behavior.”

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Delicate. — Part 1.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: Here we are fam, i gotta be honest with y’all, this is heavily inspired in the fact that i watched Miss Americana twice this month, what resulted in me going through my taylor swfit phase again. Pls bare with me, i haven’t written anything like this before.

catch up here!

They said artists become what they are because deep down they are as insecure if not more than normal people. Because they craved constant validation in what they do. 

At least it was the case for Y/n. 

A girl who has built an entire system around being accepted by the public, someone who their major source of happiness is provided by strangers all around the world. When you are living from the approval of strangers and that is where you drive all your joy and fulfillment, one bad thing can cause everything to go down. Y/n has spent her whole life trying to please the world so they would like her, so what she has achieved over the years would last. 

When the world turned their back on her, Y/n had no choice but to disappear, because she thought that was what everyone wanted. Even then, she made her choices around what she thought would make them happy.

Y/n knew she could not hide forever, but for now, it was a necessary evil she had to take. Deciding to take a break from everything was the healthiest decision she has ever made, shutting down her social media, getting out of the city and going back home with her family was exactly what she needed. 

"Mom was sad she couldn't pick you up from the airport."

Seventeen-year-old Jensen, whose driving license was still new and fresh, was the one who picked Y/n up when her flight landed. In complete honesty, she did not like using a private plane, but she could not risk someone seeing where she was going. Jensen was good at driving, well, he has not crashed into a tree yet, so they were safe. 

"She would've brought Chase and scare Pandora and Lizzie." 

Jensen chuckled. "She's obsessed with him. I haven't started college yet and she's already thinking about turning my room into Chase's." 

Her parents’ house was a gated property away from others since it was safer that way. Y/n would not stay there the whole time since she had her own apartment a little closer to town. Her luggage, as well as her cats, were picked up separately and taken to her home, she would go there after lunch with her family. Jensen parked next to a black range rover that belonged to their dad, meaning both of their parents were home. 

Y/n threw her backpack over her shoulder as she stepped out of the car, eager to finally reunite with her family, especially her mother. She is in desperate need of a tight hug, a mug of hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on. Y/n did not realize how mentally drained she was until she saw her mother open the front door. 

"My baby!" Louise exclaimed, embracing her daughter in a tight hug. "How was the flight?" 

"It was fine. I'm starving though." 

They walked into the living room and Louise closed the door behind them. Y/n dropped her backpack on one of the couches and sighed in relief. “Where’s dad?” Jensen went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Get the white wine.” Y/n told him.

“It’s too early to drink that.” Louise took the bottle from Jensen’s hands and put it back in the fridge. “Dad’s outside. We bought some roses that will look beautiful by the pool.”

“You’re buying a lot of plants lately.” Y/n pointed a big vase full of daisies, her mom’s favorites, on the kitchen’s island. 

“I like supporting local business.” She shrugged.

“That and she’s obsessed with the owner of the flower shop.” Jensen chuckled, cracking open a water bottle. 

“Hey! That’s not true.” 

“Mom, you there like… every day. Who needs new flowers every day?”

“Shush.” The elder woman faked offense then gigged. “Handsome young man, he is. I’ll take you tomorrow.” She turned to Y/n. 

“Oh, no, mom. I’m going to lock myself in my apartment and try to write.” She said, making Louise scoff. “I’m serious!”

“I know you are. But living like a hermit is not going to do you any good.”

“I agree, sis.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing they were right as always but did not want to admit it. The truth was, she wanted to write some songs, so badly, but could not find the right words. She was hoping to get some peace and quiet to get her ideas and emotions in order again. Before any of them could say anything else, David entered the kitchen while taking off his gardening gloves and smiled widely when he spotted Y/n.

“And who do we have here?”

“Hi, dad.” Y/n smiled at him brightly before wrapping her arms around her dad, who hugged her back just as tight. 

“Good to have you home, darling.” 

The family of four sat on the kitchen island and started to catch up. Jensen talked about his different college options and how he was considering getting a summer job this year. Louise kept talking about how nice the owner of this flower shop was, making emphasis on how he was also single. Y/n didn’t know what she was trying to do, but she didn’t pay much attention either. 

Overall it was nice for Y/n to get out of her head for a little bit, and her family was always a great help for that. She knew she still had a lot to deal with, and she would probably get a call from her publicist and a lot of other people soon, but for now, she just wanted to think about anything else that wasn't the whole world hating on her. 

"How are you doing, Y/n? Be honest." Her mom asked after they stayed alone in the kitchen.

"Been better." She sighed. "I don't want to think about it, mom."

"You have to talk to someone, sweetie. I know your team cares for you and is trying to handle the situation, but you can still talk to me."

"I know, thank you. I'm just trying to figure it what I'm going to do."

Louise sighed. "You sure you don't want to stay here? You have your room and everything."

"Thanks for the offer, mom. But I sort of want to be on my own." She said. "But I'll come for lunch every day, I promise."

Although Louise wasn't convinced by her daughter's words, she chose to not push it. She knew Y/n had her own ways to express her feelings, and she'd talk whenever she felt like it. So she let her go, making her promise she'd come to visit soon.

"Do you need a ride? I'm going to town anyway." Jensen offered, taking the keys of his car from the little plate they kept on the table beside the front door. 

"Yes, please."

The drive to her apartment wasn't a long one, and in less than ten minutes she was opening her front door and being greeted by her two beautiful cats rubbing themselves on her legs. Y/n sighed, thinking about how much she needed to unpack now that she was here. The truth was, she didn't know for how long she'd be staying here, but she figured it'd be a long time so she packed a lot. Now she kind of regretted it because she would probably be in her pajamas all day anyway. 

After cleaning Pandora and Lizzie's sandbox, Y/n decided to grab an acoustic guitar and try to come up with some melodies. She wasn't quite sure about any lyrics yet, but it was always good to have a little something to start a song. 

She went from playing the guitar to play the piano, hoping she'd get more inspirations somewhere. But she had nothing. Not even one decent note. She was empty. 

"Don't pretend is... mhmm. Think about the... No." She groaned and slammed the palm of her hands on the keyboard, growing frustrated. Why all of a sudden she couldn't even rhyme? Maybe she needed a break, or perhaps she was tired from her flight and tomorrow she'd be able to write something.

//

Turns out her writer's block was here to stay. A week has passed since her arrival and Y/n hasn't been able to finish one single song. Everything she started ended up being erased or in the middle of her living room after the ripped the page off her journal. 

"I told you, you shouldn't hurry. Inspiration will come eventually, it always does."

"I guess. I just have nothing else to do other than play scrabble with you and write songs, or at least try to."

"Let me take out then." Louise started and Y/n shakes her head. "C'mon, let's eat somewhere or buy groceries and I'll cock at your place." Y/n looked at her mom and realized she wouldn't stop until she accepted, so Y/n offered Louise a nod. "Marvelous. There's this little café that I absolutely love. You'll love the owner."

"What is it with you and the owners of local shops?"

"They're my friends. Oh! We could drop by Blossom House. You could use some flowers around your house so it would look like somebody actually lives there."

"Stop dragging me, woman."

Louise drove them to this café called Furry Cakes, which turned out to be a cat café. Y/n obviously lost it as soon as they walked in, and nearly cried when she saw all the kittens, and absolutely shed a tear when the girl behind the register said every kitty except for one named Chaster was up for adoption. She felt like a little girl all over again when her mom told her she couldn't take every single kitty home. 

Y/n was wearing a hoodie that was twice her size, plus some big sunglasses she refused to take off, even inside of the café. She was praying she wouldn't get recognized as she knew people were dying for a picture of her, see how she was after the entire world canceled her. 

"We'll leave the car parked here, the flower shop is just around the corner." Louise pulled from Y/n's hand to make her walk faster. There weren't a lot of people on the streets and she was grateful for that, she hasn't gotten a proper walk in what felt like ages. 

They stopped outside a modern-looking building with a big, bright sign that read 'The Blossom House'. It was simple yet cute. The pair stepped in and a little bell ringed. Y/n looked around, admiring how everything looked like it was straight out of a fairytale. There were little pots hanging from the ceiling and she looked up, she saw the ceiling was pure glass, which made the whole place brighter. Flowers weren't really her thing as she could barely keep them alive, but seeing this amount of flowers all in the same place... made her somewhat happy and warm inside. 

She was so deep in thought she didn't even realize her mom left her and was nowhere to be found. It doesn't look like it from outside, but the shop was actually big and very spacious. It was also empty right now, not even an employee was around, so she decided to have a look on her own. It looked like they had all kinds of flowers in here, which made her even more excited because that meant they had-

"Azaleas? They're also my favorites." A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. She jumped on her place as she wasn't expecting it, which made the person behind her chuckle. "I didn't mean to scare you, sorry."

"It's okay..." She turned around and it was fair to say that was she saw stunned her right away.

In front of her, a gorgeous looking man was standing there with a bright smile on his face. She noticed the two dimples poking at each side of his face, making his smile even more beautiful. His emerald green eyes were the greenest eyes she has ever seen in her life, she believed. He had crinkles by his eyes due to his smile being wide. But to her, the icing of the cake was the beautiful mop of chocolate curls he had on the top of his head. She suddenly felt the insane urge to run her hands through it just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

"Harry, darling!" Louise appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around the man, who only chuckled while reciprocating the greeting.

"Hello, Louise. What's it gonna be today? Tulips? More daisies?" Oh God, he's British. Y/n thought to herself. 

"Gosh, you know me so well. I'm actually here just to look around, I see you found my daughter though." She smirked.

"I surely did. I'm Harry, nice to meet you, love." He offered her a hand for her to shake.

Y/n was a little surprised by the pet name but took his hand nonetheless. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you too."

"I want her to get some plants for her house." Louise spoke again.

"Well, you're in the right place then." He said. "Do you want them for your garden?"

"No, uhm... I don't have one. I live in an apartment."

"Personally, my favorite to keep indoors are Begonias." Harry guided the two women to a different section of the flower shop and pointed to some pretty ones in pink color. "But I also enjoy Daylilies, although they're a little harder to maintain."

"Yeah, maybe not those then. I'm not very good at keeping plants alive."

"She killed a cactus once." Louise mentioned. 

"No way." 

"I didn't know they'd drown if I watered them more than once a week!" Y/n defended herself. 

"Amateur mistake." He joked. 

The truth was Y/n was too busy to have a garden, she was always traveling and didn't stay too long in one place so even if she tries to have one, it'd be dead by the end of the month. 

"What plants are cat friendly? I have two at home."

"Bromeliads are cat friendly, they're easy to maintain too."

They looked around for a little bit. Harry said a fun fact about every type of flower Y/n pointed out, never failing to make her laugh. The funny thing was, it didn't look like Harry knew who she was. Either he hasn't recognized her, or he didn't know about her. Which by the way, not to be a narcissist, would be highly unlikely.

She ended up taking a couple of new plants home, starting to grow excited about them. It was true, her apartment could use a little more life to it, and now she was sure her new plants would do that for her. Harry was wrapping everything for them while he stood behind the counter.

"Oh, here. This one's on the house." Harry handed her a pot with some beautiful blue Azaleas. She took them with a growing blush on her face, a blush that went deeper when their hands brushed with each other. "Try to not kill them though." He teased.

Y/n rolled her eyes as her mom chuckled behind her. "I'll report their aliveness back to you, you'll see."

"You better. Have a nice day, ladies. I'm guessing I'll see you around, Y/n?"

"Sure, I'm uh... I'm living here right now."

Harry smiled at them one last time before they exited the shop. After the door closed behind them, Louise turned to Y/n. "He likes you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What do you say if we invite him for dinner sometime?"

"Like, at your house?" She asked surprised.

"Yeah, why not?"

"I have to keep a low profile, mother. For all I know he could be tweeting about I just exited his shop."

"Don't let the paranoia ruin the possibility of forming new friendships... or more." Louise sent her a wink.

"Okay, that's enough."

Y/n brushed her off, trying not to think much about it. A new friendship sounded impossible at this point of her life, let alone pursuing a new relationship with someone. She had made up her mind, she was better off being alone.

[feralthoughtdump]

Only Angel

Part Two of Kiss With A Fist

On the way to Madripoor, Bucky and his acquaintance talk about names. 

Word Count: 5.5K

CW: violence, talk of killing people, TFATWS ep. 3 spoilers, stitching wounds, smut, unprotected sex, sub!bucky, technically a reader x bucky but he gives her a new name.

“So, we’re headed to Madripoor?” She questions, adjusting the straps of her harness.

Bucky adverts his eyes as she unbuttons her jeans, not answering her question, but she doesn’t seem to notice. They were standing in the back of the jet, a curtain obscuring the two of them from Sam and Zemo. 

“Help me really quick. I have a holster in my bag.” 

He reaches into her light blue duffle back, rifling through the articles of clothing and various weapons until his finger wraps around the leather.

“Thanks, you’re a godsend.” She chuckles. “Tell me about this mission of ours. I need to know what I should wear.” 

“We’re going undercover. Zemo is just… Zemo, Sam’s going as some big shot, and I’m… well-“

“The Winter Soldier?” 

He silently nods. 

“You scared?” 

She buckles the holster around her thigh, tightening it so it slightly squeezes at the flesh.

“Not sure.” He grumbles. “I’m worried, you know, I might end up..” his words trail off.

“Relapsing?”

“You can say that.”

She pulls her jeans down past her ankle and places them into her bag.

He clears his throat and looks away, unsure if she’s okay with him looking.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Buck.” She hymns, reaching into her bag. “What do you think? Shorts or a dress?” 

He looks back up, eyeing the black slip dress in one hand, and the leather shorts in the other. 

“Shorts I guess. Easy mobility.” 

“Smart.” 

As she’s pulling the shorts up past her waist, Bucky stares out the plane window. 

“Do you still go by Angel of Death?” He asks.

She looks up at him. 

“I never chose to go by that name, you know? The public did.” Her hands dig into the bag, pulling out a gun and a few knives. “Angels of death are serial killers in caregiver positions and I have nobody under my care. But they gave me that name because they saw me as some vigilante, someone who took down bad people.”

“Do you like the name?”

“I don’t really care. It’s factually incorrect but names don’t matter when you have to kill the person standing in the way of a paycheck.” 

“Is that how you see them? Just another person you have to kill so you can go buy a fancy handbag?” He scoffs. 

“You have no idea who those people are do you? Those people are corrupt. Evil. People who have no regard for the lives of innocent people.”

“And you think you’re any better?”

His tone is less accusing, rather it’s more curious. 

“Maybe not, but at the end of the day, it’s my job. And if my job means I’m killing morally corrupt people, then I really don’t care. And if I’m as bad as them, then maybe you had a right to kill me ten years ago.” 

Bucky shifts on his feet. 

“You know my mission wasn’t to kill you.” He confesses. 

“Then why did you stab me?” 

“I think for the first time, I felt scared. I was confused and I panicked.” 

“Fair enough.” She takes out a dark red trench coat. One made of soft crushed velvet. Bucky runs his flesh hand over it, taking in the feeling of the soft fabric. 

“I was supposed to take you away, hand you over to HYDRA. I think they wanted you to work for them.” 

She snorts, humored by his words. 

“So they wanted me to be a weapon, huh. Fry my brain until all my free will is gone and come up with a few words in Russian to make sure I’ll do their bidding.” 

“Most likely.” He crosses his arms. “You’re good at your job. You’ve wracked up kills in the hundreds, and I thought I was the one with the high body count.”

“Do you know why I’m good at my job?” She laughs, pulling her hair into a tight bun and securing it with a gold hairpin. “Do you know why I’m one of the best female assassins in Europe?”

Bucky shrugs his shoulders. 

“Every time I’m assigned a job, I’m walking into a life or death situation. I need to be prepared for any type of outcome so I won’t get caught off guard.” She pulls a black, satin, dress shirt over her shoulders. “But do you know the real reason as to why I’m the best?” 

Bucky parts his lips. 

“Tell me.”

“It’s because I never let my feelings get in the way.”

“But you have to feel at least something.” 

“No. I don’t think I really feel anything.” She tucks the hem into the shorts. “I haven’t felt anything in a very long time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. As he observes her concealing weapons within her outfit, he thinks about the past few decades of his life. One mission after another. He thinks about the bloodshed. He thinks about Yori and his son. Did he feel anything when he put a bullet in that boy? Not at the time. But now? All he feels is guilt. Shame. But here she stands in front of him, dressed to the nines, hidden weapons strapped to her body. I haven’t felt anything in a really long time.  No guilt, no shame, no emotions. The silence hangs over them like a thick, heavy fog.

His mind wanders to their first interaction. Though he can’t remember much, he often revisits it in his dreams.

Don’t you want to know my name?

The question she asked him before he plunged the knife into her abdomen. 

“Ten years ago, you asked if I wanted to know your name.” 

“I did.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No. I would’ve just given you a fake one.”

She sits down on the leather seat and stuffs her feet into a pair of heeled boots. Bucky takes a seat next to her.

“What name would you have given me?”

“I was reading Anna Karenina at the time so probably Kitty.” 

“Do you have a name?” 

“I have many names.”

“No, a real name.”

She zips up her left boot.

“I do. Well, I did.” She sighs, moving her fingers to zip up the right. “I don’t remember it anymore.” 

Bucky frowns.

“Do you want to remember?” 

Her head falls onto his shoulders and she nuzzles her nose into his neck. 

“Not really. Sometimes I think it’s better that I’m nameless.” 

Bucky doesn’t want to say he pities her, but he does. Maybe it isn’t pitying, rather sympathizing. 

“Can I give you a new one?”

She smiles, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against her skin. 

“Sure.”

“I’d like to call you Angel.” 

A hum of content passes her lips and she presses a soft kiss on his skin. 

“I’d like that too.” She whispers. “I’ll be your angel.”

They sit together for a good five minutes, syncing their breathing together, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should go back to your friends.” She mutters, grabbing the coat. 

“We probably should.”

Sam gives the two of them as they walk past the curtain. Bucky sits across from him and he watches with a slightly annoyed eye as she takes the seat across from Zemo. 

“How do you two know each other?” Sam queries.

“Oh. Bucky stabbed me ten years ago.” She bluntly states.

A humored smile crosses her face as Sam’s eyes widen and darts between the two. 

“He stabbed you?”

“Hey, I wasn’t really myself back then.” Bucky quickly defends himself. “Plus, she tried to kill me a few hours ago.” 

“In her defense,” Zemo interjects “being stabbed isn’t something you can just forgive and forget.” 

“Oh, and you know everything about forgiving and forgetting.” Sam shoots back. 

Sensing oncoming tension, she quickly changes the subject. 

“Bucky told me you three needed a tour guide. Someone who knows the place well.” 

“I’d consider myself-“

“Oh Baron,” she laughs “after everything you did in 2017, I doubt it’s easy for them to trust you.”

Zemo’s eyes widened. 

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been to Sokovia before.” 

Sam furrowed his brows.

“What led you to Sokovia?”

“Business meetings.” 

“Jesus, Bucky, who is this girl?” 

“Oh, yeah, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Angel.” Bucky smiles at the use of her name, affection blooming in his chest. “I work for a small company based in Europe. We mostly sell cosmetics.”

Bucky’s impressed by her ability to spit out a convincing story with no hesitation. 

Sam doesn’t seem to buy it, but he lets it go. 

“Anyways, what role do you three want me to play?”

“Well,” Zemo shifts in his seat, “I was thinking you could be my date-“

“No. No” Bucky grouses, a deep frown cutting across his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Relax, James. I won’t try anything with her. I know you two are… close.” 

Bucky scrambles out of his seat to wrap a hand around Zemo’s neck but he steps away at the feeling of Angel’s gentle hand on his bicep. 

“Calm down, Bucky. Everything’s going to be fine.” She looks at Zemo with an amused grin. “Alright. I’ll play the part, but I have a few rules.” She points her thumb up. “One, no kissing.” Then her pointer. “No silly pet names. I don’t want to hear you calling me baby or kitten. It’s patronizing.” Finally her middle. “And three, I don’t drink. My tolerance is low.”

Zemo and Sam nod in agreement and eventually so does Bucky, but the anger in his eyes refuses to fade away. 

It’s nighttime when they arrive, but the bright, neon lights illuminate the city. 

Loud music seeps out from the clubs and the air smells of smoke and booze. They’re surrounded by crime, and Angel smiles at the familiarity. She can spot a few familiar faces, but she never bothers to say hi. It’s best she stays faceless, unknown, invisible. 

Zemo wraps an arm around her waist and Bucky side eyes him. She can read his annoyance. His jealousy. Yet, his cold, emotionless expression doesn't change. He’s fallen into character and he’s doing a damn good job of it. 

Whispers of ‘is that the Winter Soldier?’ pour around them as they enter the bar, but they all do their best to pay no attention. 

“Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender nods towards Sam. 

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo interjects. 

Selby. 

Angel remembers that name. She’s heard it in whispers on the streets. 

Angel takes a seat on Zemo’s lap, leaning her head against the fur on his coat. 

“Who’s the girl?”

“Close friend of mine,” Zemo smirks.

“I’m Moria.” She extends a hand and the bartender politely shakes it. 

Bucky glances down at his fingers. Of course, her name here would be fake. 

“The usual?” The bartender asks.

Sam and Zemo reply with a nod. 

The four of them watch as he pulls a snake out of a jar, cutting its organs out and placing them in a shot glass. He moves on to pour out a shot of vodka for Zemo.

She grins and runs a hand from the fur collar of his coat to his chest. A soft, flirtatious giggle slips past her lips. Oh, Bucky wanted to take Zemo’s shot glass and throw it at the wall but he can’t. Not when the stakes are so high. 

She suppresses a giggle as she watches Sam struggle to down the shot. 

“Got word from on high,” A man approaches Zemo. “You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either talk to me…” 

He gestures towards Bucky.

Angel surveys the bar, observing the patrons around them. Most of them are staring at the four, suspicious eyes being thrown their way. 

Her concentration is broken when Zemo speaks.

“Winter Soldier” He orders in Russian.

She remembers Bucky’s words on the plane. He’s afraid of relapsing. 

“Attack.”

Compassion, something she hasn’t felt for a long time, floods her body and before he can strike, she finds herself twisting the man’s fingers. Another approaches them and Bucky takes the lead, kicking the man to the ground. Men charge towards them and she fights along with him. He’s throwing kicks, punches, a sight that Angel is all too familiar with. Bucky takes hold of a man thrown his way, slamming him down onto the table, metal arm wrapped around his neck.

They freeze at the sound of weapons around them. Her eyes dart around the room, seeing the guns trained on them. Slowly, she reaches under her shirt, feeling the knives she has strapped to her body. 

Sam places a hand on Bucky’s arm and Zemo quickly stops him. 

“Stay in character or the entire bar turns on us.” 

They all stand as the bartender turns to them. 

“Selby will see you now.” 

She looks at Bucky, then Sam, then Zemo who opens his arms, beckoning her towards him. She lets him place a hand on her hip as the four of them walk away.

“You should know Baron,” Selby’s voice rings through her ears. “People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo replies. 

“Well, a lot has changed since you were last here. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He chuckles.  Zemo releases his hand on her. 

“You’re taller than I heard, Smiling Tiger.” She purrs at Sam, who glances away. “What’s the offer? The girl?”

“No. Something better.”

He walks over to Bucky. 

“Tell me what you know about the super-soldier serum and I’ll hand him over.” Fingers trace over his face, from his cheekbones down to his chin. “Along with the code words to control him. He will do whatever you want.”

A Cheshire cat smile cuts across Selby’s face. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I know.” She settles into her couch. “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant but right. The serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank… or condemn.” She shrugs. “Whatever side you’re on.” 

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo inquires. 

Selby stands. 

“The breadcrumbs, you can have for free, but the bakery’s going to cost you.” She sighs. “Your arm candy, Baron, she’s extraordinary. There’s no way a little bird” Selby points her finger up and down at Angel “can fight like that without years of training. Come here, darling.” She beckons her over. Angel turns to Zemo, and then to Bucky, a worried expression on her face. Zemo falters for a second and releases his hand on her shoulder. 

“Go ahead, darling.”

She stands and walks over the Selby, who looks her over with an inquisitive eye. Selby runs a manicured finger along the collar of Angel’s coat. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Selby decides. “You hand both of them over to me, and I’ll tell you everything about Nagel.” She grins, pulling back the strap of Angel’s thigh holster and snapping it back onto her skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” She snarls.

Selby cocks her head, an amused smirk on her face. 

“I have to say, she’s quite the fiery one. I’d like to call her my little firebird. Have her sing for me.”

“A firebird and the Winter Soldier.” Zemo seethes. “Clever.”

Their attention turns to Sam when his phone rings.

Selby saunters over to him. 

“Answer it.” She demands. “On speaker.”

Angel bites the inside of her cheek, waiting with bated breath as Sam speaks to Sarah. He rambles on about money laundering and having a banker killed until Sarah calls him Sam. 

Her blood runs cold. 

“Sam?” Selby questions, voice laced with accusation. “Who’s Sam? Kill them!” 

Without hesitation, Angel pulls the gun out of her holster and unloads a bullet in the woman. 

“We need to get out of here.” She yells, stuffing her gun back in place.

One of Selby’s bodyguards cocks his gun and Angel sends a throwing knife into his head, Bucky takes down the other, knocking him out with his fist. 

“Jesus Christ, Angel!” Sam yells. 

“We don’t have time to unpack that.” she pants, ripping the knife out of the bodyguard’s head. “The second people get word that she’s dead, we’ll have a million-dollar price tag on our heads.” She shoves the knife into a pocket on her holster and bolts to the door.

The four sprint out of the exit and onto the streets, laying low, trying not to get noticed. They walk at a brisk pace, shoulder forward, eyes straight. 

The sound of rapid gunfire sends them scrambling. 

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yells.

“Oh, tell me about it!” She replies. The shock from her boots meeting the pavement sends pain up her calves.  “I’ve been running in heels for years and it still sucks.”

“That’s not humanly possible. How do you do that?” He pants.

“I got used to it.” 

Angel grabs her gun and cocks it. She one bullet after another and when the wind blows back her coat, Bucky can spot another pistol tucked in the waistband of her shorts. 

Motorcycles start to barrel towards them and they pick up their speed. A bounty hunter throws a dagger, slicing at the skin of her thigh. Despite the gash, she can’t feel the pain. Not with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

They cut to a halt when they find themselves in an alleyway, surrounded.

Gunshots ring through the air saving them from impending death. 

“Looks like we have a guardian angel.” Zemo notes, his run slowing down into a walk. 

They look around, catching their breath.

“Well, this is too perfect.” The four turn to see a blonde walking towards them, gun pointed in Zemo’s direction. “Drop it, Zemo.”

“Sharon?” Bucky inquires. She rolls her eyes and turns to Angel. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Angel of Death.” 

“What? How do you know her?” Sam asks.

“I was investigating a politician’s death a few years ago. I managed to get my hands on her picture but Bucky over here caused a bit of a stir.”

She chuckles. “Nice to meet you too, Agent Carter. 

“I used to be an agent, not anymore.” Sharon states. 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” Her words, laced with bitterness. She points her gun at Sam “I also took your wings” then to Bucky, “so you could save his ass” finally, to Zemo “from his ass. Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up.”

Angel stands by, watching Bucky ask for Sharon’s help, paying no attention to the cut on her leg. Unfortunately, the adrenaline finally wears off, sending pain up her leg. Her hands press on the bleeding wound, covering her fingers with blood. She hisses in pain, causing Sharon to turn to her, brows raised. 

“This isn’t over.” She spits at them and makes her way over to Angel.

“You might need some stitches for that.” She sighs, handing her a tissue. “I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there.”

… 

Bucky takes a seat next to Angel, who is tending to her wound on Sharon’s couch, legs propped up on a glass coffee table.

“She’s stitching herself up.” Sharon smiles. “Best you don’t distract her.”

“I’ll be fine.” Angel murmurs, eyes trained on the needle piercing her skin. “Thanks for the suture kit by the way. I left mine on Zemo’s jet.” 

“No problem. I got myself some first aid supplies when I was on the run. Figured they would come in handy.”

“My calves hurt. You have anything for that?” She grumbles, carefully knotting the thread. 

“There’s probably some ibuprofen in there.” Sharon chuckles. “Those heels are gorgeous but damn, they look painful.”

Bucky gently wraps his fingers around her ankle and looks at her. 

“May I?” 

“Such a gentleman. Of course.”

She places her legs on his thighs and sighs with relief as he massages the sore muscles of her calves. 

“Does it hurt?”

“My calves? Or cut on my thigh.”

“Your thigh.”

She shrugs, pulling the thread.

“Not too much. It’s nothing Advil can’t fix.”

Sharon throws them an amused look. 

“So, what’s going on between the two of you?” 

“James seems to have formed a little bond with her. In more ways than one.” Zemo smiles at them over a glass of whisky.

“I’ll knock that drink right out of your hands.” Angel barks. 

“I have to say, it’s quite ironic. James, you swore that you’d leave your assassin roots behind, yet you’ve taken up the company of one of the most prolific hitwomen in Europe.” 

“He’s got a point,” Sharon says, rifling through racks of clothing. “The irony part, I mean. When I was working the Death Angel case, both the FBI and the CIA profiled you as a psychopath. Someone unable to form proper emotional bonds with others-“

“Sociopath.” Angel interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Not a psychopath. Psychopaths have no moral compass. But I’d say I do. Sociopaths are still able to discern right from wrong.” 

Sam walks into the room, shrugging a jacket onto his shoulders.

“So why’d you become a hitwoman?”

Though he asks out of curiosity, Bucky still notes the way her eyes narrow, the way her lips twist into a frown. 

“I was getting paid. Plus, they aren’t the type of people you’d like to have dinner with.”

“Let’s drop this, yeah?” Bucky grumbles. “I don’t think Angel wants to continue this conversation.”

Angel. She still hasn’t gotten used to that new name, but she likes it. 

It was nothing like the names the authorities and the public had slapped on her. Killer, psychopath, evil, monster. 

The hardened shell she had built around her has started to crack, but only for Bucky.

For the first time, she wonders what it would be like. To be free from the title of an assassin. 

Maybe she’d live in a quiet Parisian apartment or a sun-filled home in northern Italy. Maybe she’d be alone. She’d be okay with that. Maybe she’ll be with someone else. Maybe with Bucky. She’d be more than okay with that. 

She envied him, even if she shouldn’t. She didn’t go through what he went through. Being taken away, stripped of any control, and then having to live in a world he knew nothing of.

However, Bucky had something she didn’t have. He had good within himself. 

She’s pulled from her thoughts when Sharon hands her a small pile of clothing.

“Here, these seem to be your style. I know some higher-ups so I’ll ask about Nagel. So, while I’m at it, enjoy the party.” 

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“I’ll let you get changed.” Zemo stands and walks away, offering her privacy. 

Sam and Sharon nod, leaving the room, but Bucky stayed behind. 

“Are you okay?” He quietly asks. 

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She curtly nods. 

Bucky reaches for a pad of gauze and presses it to the closed wound. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He holds the gauze in place while she tapes it down. 

“You’re really good at that.”

“Thanks.” She huffs. “YouTube has some great tutorials on bandaging.” 

The music from the party downstairs echoes through Sharon’s home, bleeding into the room. 

“Alright.” Angel stands and grabs the clothing that Sharon gave her. “I’ll change and we can head downstairs.”

She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Bucky cleans up the used suture supplies and throws them in the small trash can in the corner while waiting for Angel to finish. 

He wonders what would have happened if he had successfully completed his Berlin mission in 2013. What would have become of her? Everything she does, she does it with a flair. From the way she dresses, to how she acts, even in the way she kills. She was spirited, creative, and clever. He can’t bear the thought of anyone, not just HYDRA, taking that away from her. 

“Hey, Buck?” She walks out of the bathroom, holding her hands across her chest. “Can you help button me up?” 

His mouth goes dry when he sees her. She’s ethereal, not of this world. The forest green satin of her dress compliments her gold jewelry, illuminated by the soft lights of Sharon’s home. 

“Um,” he swallows. “Sure.” 

She walks over to him and turns around so he can hook the buttons through the loops. 

“Pretty isn’t it. Sharon has great taste.” 

“Yeah.” He breathes. 

“Do you like it?”

“I guess so.”

She turns to face him with a mischievous grin. 

“What do you mean ‘you guess so’?” 

“I was born in 1917, I know nothing about modern fashion. You look beautiful, though.” 

Bucky sits back down and she crawls into his lap. “You’re so sweet to me. Maybe too sweet.” She giggles. 

“Oh, by the way.” Her hands rest on his shoulders. “I never returned the favor from this morning.” 

She leans in and presses her mouth against his, kissing him with fervor. 

Bucky tucks her lower lip between his teeth and bites, smiling at her little yelp. He reaches up to cup her face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. She deepens the kiss, letting her tongue brush against his lips. 

A whine leaves his lips as she pulls back and stands. 

He pouts and reaches his arms towards her, hands making a grabbing motion. 

“Another kiss. Please?” 

“Oh, Bucky,” She giggles, lowering herself onto her knees. “You’re too cute.”

Her hands reach for his belt, undoing the buckle. She pulls his jeans down, letting them pile around his feet. He stops her hands right as they reach for his briefs. 

“Wait, I-” He stutters. “I haven’t done this in a long time.” Blushing in embarrassment. 

“If you don’t want to, we can stop.” She says sweetly.

“I want to.” He lets go of her wrist and lets his hand rest in her hair. “I just forgot how it feels.”

“If you want, I can take control for a little bit.” She rests her head on his thigh. “Make you feel good.” 

Bucky blinks owlishly and nods. 

“Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

That was the green light. She pulls his briefs down and Bucky kicks them aside along with the jeans. He grins as he watches her eyes widen. 

“You-” She gasps. “Oh, wow, you’re big.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, reaching down to stroke himself. “You think you can take me?” 

“I can try.” 

She spits on her hand and wraps it around his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath when she thumbs over the tip. 

“Oh.” He gasps when she licks the underside. “Oh!”

“Feels good?” She presses a kiss on his thigh. 

“Yeah, really good.”

Her lips wrap around his cock, saliva dripping past her tongue and onto his skin. 

He lets his head fall back, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. 

“Oh, Angel, you’re amazing.”

She flutters her lashes and looks up at him. 

It’s a beautiful sight, he thinks, the way she’s all doe-eyed and blushy. 

He grabs a fist full of her hair and pulls her closer, letting his cock hit the back of her throat. 

She gags around him and tears prick at her eyes, yet she doesn’t pull away. She bobs her head back and forth, sending electricity through his veins. 

Spit dribbles down her chin and Bucky tightens his grip on her hair. He lets his other hand cup her cheek. 

“Relax for me, love.” He murmurs. He holds her head still and pushes his hips forward. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs onto his thighs. Bucky hisses at the feeling of her nails digging into his skin but the pain is overshadowed by pleasure. Her mouth is so wet, so warm around him and he can’t get enough. 

He’s only had his cock in her mouth for a few minutes but he can already feel himself getting closer. 

“Wait, wait!” He gasps. 

Angel pulls off, eyes wide with worry.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” She asks. 

“No,” He caresses her face. “You were perfect. I just- I’m gonna cum soon and I want you to feel good too.” 

She smiles affectionately. 

“Oh, baby, you’re too good to me.” 

As she moves to straddle him, Bucky takes hold of her waist and pushes her onto the couch so she’s lying underneath him.

“Don’t want you hurting yourself.” He kisses her nose. “Your wound is still healing.” 

His hands push up the hem of her dress, the satin pooling around her waist, exposing the soft skin of her tummy and the scar he left her. He leans down to press a gentle kiss on the scar and he playfully nips at her skin. 

“No biting, puppy.” 

He whines at the name. It makes him feel all soft like he wants to give all of himself to her. His head rests on her tummy and he blinks at her with soft eyes. 

“You wanted me to take control, so I’m taking control.” She coos, running a hand through his hair. “Give me a kiss, baby.” 

He kisses up her body and when his lips meet hers, she takes this as an opportunity to roll themselves over. 

She straddles his hips, letting her cunt rub against his cock. Her eyes close and she sighs in pleasure. 

“You want to fuck me, baby?” She giggles. 

“Yes.” He groans. “Oh god, yes.” 

“What do you say?” she taunts, voice laced with authority. 

“Please.” Bucky pants. “Can I please fuck you?” 

“Mmm. Asking so nicely.” She muses. “Of course you can.” 

His eyes roll back, chest heaving. His mouth drops open but she presses a hand against his mouth. 

“Gotta stay quiet. Don’t want everyone hearing you do we?” 

Bucky nods, biting down on his lip. 

“Good boy.” She leans down and kisses his forehead. “So good.” 

She lifts her hips and presses his cock against her entrance. 

Bucky rests a hand on her hips but she intertwines their fingers and presses his hand onto the couch cushions. 

“No touching.” 

Unfair. She’s being unfair. 

As she lowers herself onto him, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to moan. 

“Beautiful.” She whispers, eyes hooded and lips parted. “You’re beautiful.” 

He thinks he could cum right then and there. 

“Am I making you feel good?” She whispers. 

Bucky nods, quiet moans on the tip of his tongue. 

She gasps and tightens around him. Bucky bites down on his lip. Hard. 

“M-move.” He whimpers. “Please.”

She replies by moving her hips back and forth. 

“You feel so good, sweet thing.” 

Bucky hums in content. 

“Thank you.” 

With every movement she makes, with every sound that leaves her lips, Bucky’s convinced she’s going to kill him. 

“Do you know what la petite mort means, baby?” She asks him.

“Mhm.” Bucky opens his eyes. “It’s French. It means a little death.”

They’re nose to nose, both gasping into each other’s mouths. The gold necklaces she’s wearing dangles in his face and he bites down on a chain with a smile. 

“It means more than that, baby. La petit mort refers to an orgasm. And from the looks of it,” She teases, “I think you’re coming close.” 

Bucky groans, letting go of the chain. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum?”

“Yes.” He whimpers with desperation. “Can I cum? Can I cum for you?”

“Tell me I’m your angel.” She whispers into his ear.

“You’re my angel. Can I please cum?” He begs.

“No, not yet.” She laves her tongue over the shell of his ear. “Tell me I’m your only angel.” 

“You’re my angel. My only angel.” 

She squeezes around him and quickens her movements. Her hands press down on his chest as she lifts her hips and sinks back down onto him. 

She’s an angel. His angel. In this moment, he’d do anything for her. Anything for his angel. 

“I’m gonna- fuck.” He groans. 

“Gonna cum?” She asks, voice silvery and low. “Gonna cum for me baby?”

All he can do is nod. 

“Alright.” 

She lifts herself off of him and before he can protest, she’s got her lips wrapped around him. He bucks his hips forward and empties himself into her mouth. 

He watches in awe, chest heaving post-orgasm, as she swallows him down and pulls off of him. With a quick swipe of her hand across she smiles. 

She crawls up his body and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“So good. You were so good for me.”

[kuuderekweenfics]

Only Temporary

I really wanted to make Keigo nasty. Like, a real debaucherous fiend who could hardly give a hoot about you (pun intended). Instead he came out of my head ever the gentlemen and oh, so soft. 

Like a roll of double-ply toilet paper. (Kidding!)

 But I’m not mad about it.

Also, reader, in this fic, you’re a bit cold at the beginning. So if you can’t imagine yourself being stand-offish, this mayyyy not be for you. For those of you who read my first piece, I added a lil Easter egg in there. 

Hawks x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: Next stop, Orgasmville (18+)

1...

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“baby, oh fuck...I’m gonna cum...”

An eye roll begins to form and you close your eyes to avoid confrontation. Not that he’s paying attention to anything other than his current orgasm anyway. Eyes clutched and nostrils flared. He looks constipated, you think. You choke down the impending laughter but can’t help the jerk your body makes, so you blanket it with a gaudy, dramatic moan to disguise your exposed apathy. 

He’s busy peeling off the condom as you turn over and reach for your phone, dragging a finger under your eye to wipe away any mascara that may flaked during the two minutes of intercourse. 

“Did I blow your mind?” He beckons for encouragement like a puppy beckons for attention. 

You decide to throw him a bone. A lazy smile flickers in place. “Extraordinary.”

Puppy wags his tail.

You leave his apartment 20 minutes later, after a quick rinse off and against his wishes, feigning a prior engagement that requires the upmost promptness. As you walk along the bustling city sidewalk, neon lights and advertisements flashing cinematic beauty queens, you remind yourself that this, that he, is only temporary. 

You met him at an overpriced cafe. You didn’t even remember his damn name. He was flustered, you could immediately tell by his stumbling speech. But you hadn’t been laid in over a year and needed to feel something other than your fingers or the purple silicone vibrator you kept tucked away in your nightstand drawer. Even if he was staler than the cup of coffee you purposely left behind. 

But all you ended up doing was counting the seconds between thrusts until it was finally over.

“At least the cobwebs have been swept,” you settle. You thought someone who had a hardening quirk would have more gusto. Apparently the hardness of his boner does very little for the duration of intercourse. Good to know. 

The chilled air nipped at you skin, leaving your cheeks and nose red with its kiss. In its wake was a residual sweetness, weak but more exigent the farther you walked. You made use of your quirk, a keen sense of smell, to locate where the comforting aroma came from. You face the bright patisserie, welcoming and quaint and almost entirely unoccupied. 

As you walk inside, you’re greeted by a young woman, her swollen belly covered by an apron. She’s attempting to grab a tart from the middle shelf of the display case, squatted with her hand pressed into her lower back as if it were the only thing keeping her from toppling over. 

“Do you need help?” You watch with pity.

She blinks at you and sighs, contemplating whether it was a good idea, or if it was even allowed, to ask for a customer’s assistance. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, she nods and lets out a breathy laugh. “Please. This baby makes it impossible for me to do much nowadays.”

She hands you a glove and the box that had three cakes sitting neatly atop parchment. “How far along are you?”

It’s a weak attempt of small talk. And you don’t really care to know. But it would be awkward carry on in silence. So you manage to sound curious all the same.

“33 weeks.”

You hand her the box, tart acquired, and mumble out a congratulations. She thanks you kindly, although her smile doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. She gives you a slice of strawberry shortcake, perched on the top shelf, as reward for your task, as well as a coin. 

“It’s for the gacha,” she points at the machine near the entrance. “I check each capsule to make sure there are no duds.”

You can’t possibly know what she means by that. You hold up the coin to her in thanks and grab your capsule before setting off. 

It’s an All Might charm. Throwing it in your pocket, you work on your slice of cake, grabbing it with your hand and taking a bite like it was a slice of pizza. You never understood the logic behind idolizing heroes. While they did save the world from certain demise, and you were very thankful you were not a slave to a demon lord, heroes are simply doing their job. Were you to idolize the teen who whips up your order at McDonaz for feeding you as well? Mouthful of strawberry and cream, you chuckle at the mental image.

Your vision blurs as you’re abruptly yanked out of your reverie. 

“What in the actual fuck?” You question angrily.

You turn to see a man, blue face partially covered for anonymity, holding the purse that is still slung to your shoulder.  You stare through mirthless eyes as he growls in frustration, obviously intending to make an easier escape. Cake in hand, you slap him hard enough to leave a stinging pain in your palm. He struggles to get the cream from out of his eyes as he dashes away.

You hear a laugh behind you. “I had all intentions of rescuing you, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.”

His arms are crossed and his yellow visor does little to hide his obvious amusement. 

“There are bigger evils to be thwarted. I can manage a failed pickpocket,” you respond, shifting your purse strap to sling across your body. “Shouldn’t you be, like, going after that guy?”

He blinks. “I already have.” 

Your hair is pushed forward as the crimson feather zips past you and nestles neatly back into his plush wings. The weight of his stare is immobilizing. You’ve been gawked at by men countless times. But his slitted pupils gleams with lascivious intent. 

You should look away. 

You should tell Hawks goodnight. 

You just let some rando fuck you only an hour ago.

Could you count that as a fuck?

That’s beside the point.

Only, you’re not sure what happened in the last ten minutes because now he’s pressed against you in your apartment hall, his lips latched onto yours as his stubble scrapes your chin. You want to put your hands on him anywhere and everywhere, feel the wiry muscles of his arm or test just how soft his wings are. But before you can so much as place a finger on him he seizes your wrists and holds them against the wall above your head, only to immediately trade them for your ass, hauling you up off the floor so that you can straddle him as your kiss deepens like the sea, your tongue sliding across his in waves. 

You give him directions to the bedroom through the sloppy, firm kisses, shrugging off your top and hearing it hit the floor behind you. You jerk your hips forward to feel his hard-on, your jeans adding a touch of friction that makes you moan softly into his mouth. 

He plops you on the bed, immediately tugging on the button of your pants.

But wait...

Perplexed, you ask, “When did you undress?” 

Hawks grins at you and, instead of a response, answers by flapping his wings. The cold air it pushes towards you elicits a shiver. He rips off your jeans and panties in one go, staring at your pussy as if it were his last, god-damned meal. He winds his arms around your thighs and pulls you forward, his hot breath making your cunt twitch. He licks you with fervor, pressing his tongue against your soft, wet flesh. The moan he releases covers you in goosebumps. As he narrows in on your clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking down, your breasts jerks up. The pleasure is palpable as he eats away at your needy pussy vehemently. He releases one leg and inserts a finger into you to test the waters, followed by a second to fill you a bit more, curling his fingers upward in search of the spot that is sure to drive you wild. And it doesn’t take long, because in record timing you’re feeling hot, so very fucking hot, and the pressure that has been building in your head begs for release. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...me,” you drag out, snapping the rubber band that was holding your sanity in place. 

You come hard and loud. He chuckles as he lets you drift back down from your high, lapping away at your juices and then wiping what remains on his chin with his thumb. As he sits up he rubs his dick, hard and thick and begging for entry as precum drips from the tip. He strokes his cock against your lips, thick veins greeting your clit to reinvigorate your arousal. 

“Please,” you breathe out. It’s so unlike you to beg. You’re stubborn and proud, but in this instant, you would give anything for him to fuck you into oblivion, destroying your soppy cunt like he might destroy a menace. 

He grabs your waist and pulls you up, kissing you roughly before falling back, leaving you straddled on top of him. He runs his hands down your body, rubbing you clit haphazardly.

“Show me how much you want it,” he smirks.

You rub his arousal against your lips a few times to continue coating him with your overflowing juices. Then you lean forward, one hand behind you takes hold of his cock and guides him in. 

He’s big. Like “bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut while you tremble” big. You’re wetness did little for this intrusion, his cock scraping your walls as it inches in deep. But imagining his dick impaling you in quick succession leaves you breathless and wanting. You begin to move. Bobbing up and down, slowly at first, to get used to his girth. Adding the occasional swirl of your hips to get your pussy to cooperate and suck him up entirely. His eyes are on your cute face, red and focused, before he slides them down to watch where your bodies are conjoined. After a few minutes of pumping, your legs are beginning to tire, and try your best to keep the pace but hope for some intervention or a small reprieve. He must notice this, because he places his hands on your hips and pulls down, sheathing himself completely in one hard thrust. You cry out in ecstasy, throwing your head back as his fat cock punches into your cervix. 

You hear him grunt under you. “Shit. F-fuck. You’re clamping around me.”

He thrusts, grinding into your throbbing cunt mercilessly. You cant think, you can breathe, all you can focus is the swift piston that seem to send an electric shock into the pit of your chest. You rub your the bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat with abandon, sending another bolt through your body. He catches your eyes roll to the back of your head. Shit, shit, shit, right there, right there, right...

A scream that had been building up in your stomach explodes from your mouth as your entire body quakes above him, hands gripping onto the anchor that is his hard, muscular abdomen.

He gently places his arm on your lower back, maneuvering the both of you without pulling out. You’re not sure if it’s the residual effect of your last orgasm, but you feel almost weightless.

You wouldn’t find out until later that he had used his wings to reposition.

He lays you on the mattress, kissing your neck and trailing down until his mouth meets your breast. He begins moving again, sucking on your nipple and softly biting just enough to make you moan. His thrusts are calculated: deep and triggering, each one leaving you a drooling mess. 

He places his forearms on either side of your head, pressing a kiss to your ear.

“I need to fuck you hard,” he whispers.

All you can do is frantically nod before he starts speeding up, skin slapping skin. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, quick grunts echoing the creak of the springs in the bed beneath you. His dick pushes your organs up, up, up, as your body takes him in obediently, craving the taste. You mewl out quietly, biting your bottom lip and furrowing your brows.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty.” 

You cant respond, you just focus on each relentless thrust driving you closer to the breaking point. He sits up, raising your hips to find a better angle. He rams into you, quick and powerful. His cock reduces your mind to mush each time he bottoms out. He is close, you know. Not because his fingers are now digging into the skin of your hips, or the sweat that gleams on his brow. But because you feel his dick twitch repeatedly in your gewy cunt. 

He plows into you erratically, filling you up so, very thoroughly. He grits his teeth with one final plunge, shooting his hot, sticky load into you. The feeling of his cum stuffing you to the brim feels almost comforting. You try, desperately, to hold in the sob threatening to escape you. You refuse to get emotional. 

Oh lord. Get a grip. You just met the man. You need to keep your cool. Because, just like the one before, regardless of your small, nagging desire, you know the cold truth of the matter. 

He’s only temporary.

Even if he has given you the best sex of your life.

Even as his shaky fingers detach from your hips as he releases a whistle. 

Even as he asks, “you doing okay?” with an open tenderness that surprises you. 

Even as he brings his hand to your face and wipes away the tear that manages to free itself despite your earnest resolve.

Even as you give him the most genuine smile you can offer.

“Extraordinary.”

[anythingbutmar]

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

                                                             --

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

                                                            --

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

[avatarstories]

izumi’s birthday part three:  sources of wisdom

The next morning, breakfast with the family is awkward. Izumi was a few moments late, having had to stop by the royal seamstress to have the last adjustments fitted for party outfit finished. By the time she arrived at breakfast, everyone was seated, and the only empty chair was between her father and Bumi. Bumi’s stony expression made her want to just be swallowed up by the floor. Maybe she could go find Druk and convince him to eat her. She gives Bumi a sad smile, and he rolls his eyes with a noticeable exhale. Izumi takes her seat quietly trying her hardest to give him as much space as possible. 

“Are we going to talk about how Izumi and Bumi are making the air in the room extremely uncomfortable?” Kya says. “Lover’s quarrel?” she jokes. 

“Fuck off, Kya” Bumi mutters, looking down at the table in front of him. Kya is across from him and leans in trying to get his attention. 

“Excuse me?” she says with a joking lilt in her voice. 

Bumi doesn’t say anything. Instead, he throws his tea at Kya and storms out of the dining room. Everyone is silent but all eyes are on Izumi. Having managed to stop the tea from hitting her, Kya bends it back into a cup. 

“Well, Happy Birthday, Izumi! What an exciting way to start the day,” Kya deadpans. Zuko looks at Izumi with a concerned expression. Azula looks ready to go to murder. Toph and Lin have their eyebrows raised and are taking a big sips of their mango juices. Tenzin hangs his head and focuses intently at his rice. Izumi notices Katara giving Aang a look that says go after him and when he doesn’t move she shakes her head. 

“This looks like a job for a wise old man like me,” Iroh says, pushing his chair back so that he can stand up. 

“General Iroh, it’s really ok, Aang can take care of it,” Katara says. 

“Uh, I kinda agree with General Iroh,” Aang replies sheepishly. 

If looks could kill, the ice in Katara’s eyes would have Aang pinned to the wall. “You are unbelievable,” she says quietly, though the anger and disappointment in her tone are unmistakable. She follows Bumi out the door 

“Looks like Twinkletoes is in the polar bear doghouse,” Toph says. Aang groans and then goes after Katara and Bumi.

“Care to enlighten us, Izumi?” Azula asks. 

“Not really,” she mutters. “I’m going to the training yard,” she announces quietly, and she walks out the door. 

Azula looks between Zuko and Iroh “I would go after her, but I was planning to go boss some staff around to make sure her party is perfect, which I think now needs to be even more perfect,” she says. 

“I will see what is bothering our dear Izumi,” Iroh says pushing out his chair once again. He and Azula leave the room. 

“Man,” Lin says “I thought mom and I would be the ones to start drama.” At that, Sokka laughs so hard he snorts, and Suki punches him in the side for it. ————————————————————————————————— 

Izumi is moving through advanced katas when Iroh finds her.

“I have told you before, forms practiced in anger are like tea steeped in unclean water, dear Izumi.” 

She finishes the form sending an arc of a flame towards the stone wall with an audibly annoyed exhale. 

“Now, are you going to tell me what is wrong or should I guess? Kya suggested a -” 

“IM NOT DATING BUMI! CAN EVERYONE STOP THINKING THAT!” 

Iroh chuckles. “Everyone used to think the same of your father and Katara when they were yours and Bumi’s ages. When people share a special bond others cannot help but wonder. But of course I did not come here to talk about your father’s youthful affections. It appears you and Bumi are experiencing a strain. Care to inform your old grandfather so he can help you?” 

“We had a misunderstanding.” 

“I know that I am old, Izumi, but I am not blind.” 

“Bumi was telling me about some issues in their family between him and his dad, and I basically told him that he should be lucky not to have the weight of a legacy on his shoulders.” 

“So your problem stems from your fear of your future,” Iroh affirms. “Rightfully so on an occasion as momentous as your 17th birthday, but Izumi, you are a kind, gentle, and fair minded young woman, and your father is a picture of health, what has brought about this anxiety?” 

Izumi crosses her arms and says nothing. 

“Izumi?” 

“I overheard some of the noblewomen talking about a curse on the Fire Ladies.” 

“And what is this curse?” 

“That Fire Ladies who die in childbirth give rise to evil Fire Lords. The spirits make them pay the ultimate price for what they bring into the world.”

Iroh takes in her words. “And so you have applied this to your own birth?” Izumi nods.

“You’re young yet Izumi, but I think you will find that destiny is what you make of it,” he says. “You and your father are the descendants of Sozin and Azulon, but you’re also the descendants of Avatar Roku on your grandmother’s side. There’s light and dark in you, and you will have to chose what nature you will allow to flourish. But knowing you, I would largely place my bets on the light side. And,” he takes a pause, “you can always seek to redeem yourself for your faults. I tried to break through the walls of Ba Sing Se, and then I took it back from the Fire Nation. Your father chased Aang halfway across the world, and now they are best friends. Azula was one of the most terrifying people in existence -” 

“She still is.” 

He chuckles. “Yes, she still is. But the original fire bending masters deemed her worthy of regaining her power when she lost it and repented, and they even gifted her a dragon egg as they did to your father,” he explains. 

“Your father’s legacy was to end a war. Yours will be the equally important one of maintaining peace,” Iroh says. “Now, maybe you should go practice that and make your amends with Master Bumi. I am off to make some tea.” 

“What if he won’t speak to me,” she asks. 

“Well then your partner dance in front of the court later on at your party will be terribly uncomfortable!” he says walking back inside. ——————————————————————————————————— Bumi does not really know where he is walking to, and he just follows the direction that instinct takes him. He can hear his parents behind him, but he does not stop. 

“Bumi please,” Katara calls. 

He groans and walks faster. In this instance, he was incredibly pleased with himself because he still remembers some of the secret passageways in the palace that Izumi had showed him as children when they would play hide and explode with Izumi’s Aunt Kiyi and Aunt Azula, so he ducked into one that he knew was coming and hears his parents run right passed. It was slightly dark inside, which made perfect sense considering that usually only firebenders used these hallways and had no need for any other light. 

Bumi went off memory and kept his right hand on the wall. If he had to figure this out like a maze in order to get out, that’s what he would do. After about ten minutes in the dark, he feels a variation in the stone that tells him he’s found a door. If he remembers correctly, this one will let him out by the portrait gallery. However, when he opens the door, he’s stopped by a piece of furniture. 

“Huh?” he hears someone ask, and soon the furniture is being shoved out of the way and the door opens and bright light blinds him, and Azula is standing in front of him.

She stares him up and down. “I would offer to help you but I will warn you first that if you ruin Izumi’s birthday, not even the fact that your father is the Avatar will save you from me.” 

Bumi remains frozen, unsure what to do. 

“Well don’t just sit there,” she says, raising a brow. He stumbles into what he realizes to be Azula’s office. 

“If you are avoiding your parents who ran after you when you caused quite the commotion at breakfast, then my office would definitely be the best place to hide. Push that back into place,” she commands gesturing to the small table she had just moved. 

Bumi has not spent much time alone with Azula. Whenever he would visit the Fire Nation, he and Izumi were attached at the hip. Every summer when Kya would go to the Southern Water Tribe and his dad and Tenzin would go to an Air Temple, Bumi would get dropped off in the Fire Nation for a few months of sword training with Master Piandao. After Piandao passed away, Zuko offered to continue training him since Sokka was busy trying to get Republic City up and running. In all that time, he’d never really gotten to know Azula. From what Izumi had told him, Azula was Zuko’s right hand. She lead his small council and sat in on meetings when he was away on diplomatic trips, which made her an extremely powerful person. 

He looks around her office. It’s clean and tidy. There is a small ink portrait of Izumi on the wall to the right of Azula's desk, and vases of Fire Lilies around the room. 

Azula studies him while he looks around the room. “Should I ask what’s bothering you or should we pretend this exchange never happened?”

“Whatever you prefer,” he replies. 

“I prefer to be well informed.” 

“Izumi and I had a fight.” 

“I gleaned that,” she says flatly. There’s a pause. “Izumi hates celebrating her birthday. She tells us every year it makes her feel guilty, but the 17th birthday of the Heir Apparent is a rite of passage in the Fire Nation.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Traditionally, it’s when the Crown Prince, or in Izumi’s case, Princess, starts sitting on the small council and has to take up a stronger political role than just kissing babies and doing well in school… it’s seen as the last day of childhood.”  

Oh Bumi thinks. “That’s why she’s so stressed.” 

“Most likely a factor.” 

“She never mentioned it.” 

“Well, you know Izumi. Unless it’s Zuko, getting her to tell you what’s wrong is like pulling teeth. She is like you in that regard.” Bumi looks puzzled. “I read people very well,” she says in reply to his reaction. There’s a pause as she regards him. “I do not imagine it is easy to be a non-bender in a family like yours.” 

“Man, you really don’t hold back.” 

She offers him a half smile. “I understand the fear of being a disappointment too. When I was 12 I was so scared of failure and what would happen if I disappointed my father. It was not even two years by the time I self destructed.” 

“I’m not going to self destruct,” he mutters. 

“Then you might need some help carrying that weight on your shoulders around.” 

He is quiet for a minute. “What if there’s no one to help me?” 

 She glances down at a small ink drawing of her mother, Zuko, and herself  that sits on her desk. “From my experience,  you can often find help in very unexpected places, but you have to be open to being helped.” 

AN: you cannot convince me Azula didn’t get a redemption arc and a lot of healing and become a strange source of wisdom. you just can’t. azula redemptions are a peak of feminist literature. 

I imagine redeemed Azula serves Zuko in a position similar to the hand of the king from GoT. 

[aresaphrodites]

2 - bughead ❤️

this is definitely not spooky at all, but it’s cute and fun so i hope you like it <3

#2:  “ Who ate all my candy?!!”

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“A Snickers, your majesty?” 

Betty Jones leans down and opens her mouth wide, allowing the small candy bar to fall onto her tongue. “Mmm,” she moans lightly. “My favorite!” She smacks her lips dramatically and watches as two pairs of matching blue eyes look at her in disgust. 

“Nasty, mommy,” Mia Jones says with a little squeal and shakes her head, causing her black curls to fly around wildly. 

Meanwhile Zeke Jones is grinning up at his mom, a pack of Skittles clutched in his hand tightly. “Mommy, mommy! Catch!” He doesn’t even give her time to react before he’s throwing a green Skittle at her face. It bounces off her nose and Betty watches as the twins go completely still, eyes wide and mouths dropped open as if they’re about to get scolded. 

“I missed that one on purpose,” Betty tells them, “I hate the green ones.” 

Zeke cackles and throws a red one at her, which she actually does catch this time. The twins cheer for their mom, so excited for her in a way that only six-year-olds can be. Their laughter and energy is so infectious though, that she finds herself laughing along with them.

“Mommy,” Mia says as they continue to sort through all their candy, “you look very pretty tonight.” 

“Aw,” Betty coos and presses a kiss to her daughter’s head. “Thank you, baby! I think you look very beautiful.” 

“Do I look like a princess?” She asks softly, playing with the ends of her Sleeping Beauty dress. “My hair doesn’t match.”

Betty frowns slightly. Mia has always been a little insecure about the color of her hair and Betty will never understand why. Unlike Zeke, who has golden blonde waves like Betty, Mia has her father’s hair, just a little more wild, and Betty has always loved it. It’s her favorite.

“That’s a dumb question,” Zeke says, mouth full of a Milky Way, taking Betty out of her thoughts. 

“Zeke Jones!” She scolds once she sees Mia’s frown deepen. “That’s not nice at all, young man. We don’t say things like that. What do I tell you?” 

Zeke sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically. God, he may be only six, but he has his father’s attitude. It’s adorable, but sometimes Betty wants to yell at Jughead for teaching their sweet son this. 

“There is no such thing as a dumb question,” Zeke recites. “But what if I ask you if it’ll hurt my eyes if I look at a picture of the sun?” 

Betty looks at her son, completely baffled, and then erupts into laughter. 

“What?” She wheezes. “Zekey, where do you come up with this stuff?” 

“Well?” He presses, placing his hands onto his hips. He accidentally knocks his lightsaber off his hip and Mia reaches over to pick it up before he can step on it. “Is that a dumb question?” 

“I’m going to take away all your candy if you keep giving me attitude,” she tells her son, refusing to admit that yes, that actually is a dumb question. His eyes go wide and she continues. “And you need to apologize to your sister right now, mister.” 

“No,” he whines, “Mommy, you never let me finish what I’m saying! You always do this!” 

“Excuse me?” She gasps, appalled. “I do not!” 

“You do too! You do it to daddy and you do it to me!” He looks down at his twin sister. “Right, Mia?” 

Mia, the little traitor, nods rapidly. “It’s true, mommy. I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Betty says softly, with a fake sadness. “My own kids… out to hurt me.” 

Zeke giggles, but he sits back down on the floor and wraps his arms around his sister tightly before pulling away and handing her a Twizzler. “It’s a dumb question because of course you look like a princess. Who cares if you don’t have hair like me and mommy? All the coolest princesses have dark hair.” 

“Oh yeah?” Mia asks, doubtful. “Like who?” 

“Snow White! She was really cool. She was so sweet and nice that all the animals loved her, just like the doggies love you. And Belle! She was awesome! She loved books and was super smart, just like you are. I bet she passed all her spelling tests like you do.” 

Mia smiles softly at her brother’s words and Betty’s heart clenches at the sight in front of her. Sure, there are days when the kids are at each other’s throats so badly that Betty questions how she hasn’t lost her mind yet, but underneath it all, they love each other so much and they’re always there for one another. It’s all she’s ever wanted for her children, and she’s so happy that they have each other. 

“Don’t forget Mulan,” a new voice rings out from the foyer. Mia immediately lights up at the sight of her favorite man making his way into the living room. “Mulan’s my favorite princess.” Mia jumps up from the floor and runs into her dad’s arms, squealing as he picks her up and twirls her around before placing her onto his hip. “So what’s this I hear about you not liking your hair?” 

Mia blushes and looks down. “I didn’t say that, daddy. I just said it wasn’t like a princess’ hair.” 

Jughead Jones gasps in shock. “What? Says who?” 

“Well… Sleeping Beauty didn’t have blonde hair,” she says sheepishly. 

“So?” Zeke snaps. “Kylo Ren didn’t have blonde hair, but I think I still look awesome.” 

“Of course you do, baby,” Betty says, ruffling her son's hair as he comes to sit in her lap. 

“See,” Jughead says, smiling down at his wife and son before looking back up to his daughter. “It doesn’t matter what color your hair is, dumpling. You’re a princess, just like your brother is the evil Supreme Leader of Riverdale.” 

“He was a good guy!” Zeke wails and Betty and Jughead have to stop themselves from bursting into laughter. Their son has taken to the Star Wars franchise lately, and even though Betty’s not sure how she feels about him watching it already, it’s nice to see him so passionate about something that isn’t bugs or tormenting his sister. 

“Daddy, why do you call me that?” Mia asks, ignoring her brother. “I hate dumplings!” 

“Well, I love dumplings,” Jughead tells her. He places a kiss to her nose, making her giggle. “And I love you! So you’re my little dumpling. In fact, next year I think you should be a dumpling for Halloween.” 

“You’re silly,” Mia tells him before resting her cheek on his shoulder. 

Jughead walks the two of them over to where Betty and Zeke are sitting, and then he sits down on the floor next to his wife. 

“Well, hello, Mother of Dragons.” His eyes rake over Betty’s body and she sends him a bemused look. “Did you miss me?” 

“You were gone for like, ten minutes,” she tells him as Mia and Zeke get up from their parent’s laps to go back to searching through their pumpkin baskets. “Why did your work call you so late? You’re not on call.”

Jughead smiles at her. Betty’s always been very big on their family time, especially because it’s a little hard with Jughead’s job as a neurosurgeon at the hospital in the city. It’s not that long of a commute, but when you add all the hours he has to work, it’s a lot more tiring than either of them would like. When he does have a day off, he’s usually so tired that he just wants to rest, so Betty cherishes these moments and it annoys her whenever they’re interrupted. 

“Nothing to worry about, Betts.” He leans over and kisses the side of her mouth. “One of the interns just mixed up a bit of the paperwork, so Harvey was calling me to confirm a couple of things. Don’t worry, I’m still yours for the next three days.” 

Betty just hums out. “Well, you were missed, Jon Snow.” She reaches up and brushes her hand against his cheek. “I still cannot believe you grew out your facial hair for this costume.” 

“I wanted to be season five Jon Snow,” he says, bringing his own hand up to capture his wife’s. “You don’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that. It’s just a little different. Are you going to keep it?” 

He laces their fingers together and brings Betty’s hand up to his lips, kissing her wedding finger, right above where the gorgeous diamond ring sits. “What do you think, my queen?” 

Betty snorts and shoves him playfully. “I think you look very mature with it.” 

“Oh? So I don’t look like a highschooler anymore? Awesome. It’s only been like fifteen years.” 

“Daddy!” Zeke screeches. “Look, I saved this for you!” He runs over to his parents and hands Jughead a squished Baby Ruth. “It’s your favorite, so I didn’t eat it.” 

“Aw, thanks, bud!” He takes the candy and wraps his arm around Zeke, bringing him against his chest. “You could have eaten it, though. I’m sure I have some in my pumpkin.” 

At his words, Zeke makes a comically nervous face and Mia laughs lightly behind her hands. Jughead catches on immediately. 

“Okay,” he drags out, suspicious, “who has my pumpkin?” 

“I haven’t seen it,” Zeke says quickly. 

“Nope!” Mia agrees, shaking her head while still giggling. 

Jughead whirls around to look at Betty. “Babe? Where’s my pumpkin?” 

“I haven’t seen it,” she says quietly, cheeks red, “did you check the kitchen?” 

“We haven’t even been to the kitchen since we got home!” 

The quiet jingle of Luna’s--the family dog’s--name tags echoes throughout the room and Jughead watches in horror as she brings him a chewed up pumpkin basket. 

“Oh, my God! Luna ate my candy!” 

Mia cackles loudly and now even Zeke and Betty are laughing along. 

“Not her, daddy,” Zeke says through his laughter and Jughead looks at his family in shock. 

“Then who?” Jughead asks, astonished. “We all have our own pumpkins!” 

“It wasn’t me,” Zeke sings out. “You know I don’t like chocolate that much, daddy.” 

“I know,” Jughead says, patting Zeke’s blonde waves. “My sweet baby boy would never do this to me. It could only be your mom or sister!” 

“Hey,” Betty and Mia whine. 

“You two are the only ones who deceive me like this,” Jughead whines and Mia looks at him in confusion. “The only ones who trick me like this!” 

“Maybe you’re going crazy, Juggie,” Betty says, even though she’s grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt. “No one ate your candy.” 

“You’ll pay for this tonight,” Jughead tells her and she gasps softly, knowing exactly what he means. He grins, happy with the effect he has on her, and then puts on his game face. “Alright, so which one of you is going to confess.” 

“It wasn’t me,” Betty and Mia say at the same time, both laughing still. 

“Who ate all my candy?!!” He shrieks, distraught, and this time they all erupt into laughter. 

“It was mommy!” Mia admits and Betty gasps, looking at her daughter in horror. “I’m sorry, mommy! I feel bad!” 

“Don’t feel bad for him! Feel bad for me! Daddy ate all my candy last year!” 

“You said you didn’t want it!” Jughead defends. “How was I supposed to know you meant that you just didn’t want it at that moment!” 

“Whoopsie,” Betty says and Jughead scoffs. 

“You literally still have an entire bucket full of candy, Elizabeth. Why did you eat mine?” 

“Because yours looked better.” 

“We got the same things!” 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.” 

Jughead gives her a deadpan look and then rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah. You’re definitely paying for this later on.” 

Betty just winks at him and he blows her a kiss. 

“Don’t be upset, daddy,” Mia says. “You can share my candy with me.” 

“Thank you, baby,” Jughead says with a pout. “You are the sweetest dumpling.” 

Mia smiles at him and gets up to hand over her basket to him. 

Betty laughs so hard that she can’t breathe whenever Jughead reaches his hand into the basket only to find out that their daughter has given him an empty one, having poured all her candy onto the floor earlier. 

After that, the house is filled with the sound of the twins’ laughter as Jughead chases them throughout the house, while Betty stands on the sidelines and protects her children from the “monster man”, the stolen candy long forgotten.

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Send me a sentence from this list of spooky prompts with a ship and I’ll write you a short lil fic. :) 

[chartedrights]

Golden Age AU Masterpost

For everyone lacking context, the Golden Age AU is just me riffing on every piece of comic book media I’ve ever consumed. Here are some single-paragraph rundowns I’ve made to keep track of things as I start to write!

The Board of Directors is analogous to the Justice League- they’re pretty much entirely people with superpowers (with the exception of Carol, at first), they’re very prestigious, and they come together to ward off larger threats like the impressive super powered task force they are. Or they used to. Membership’s sort of dropped, and people with powers are getting harder to find and recruit, and the big headliner who ran it left it in the hands of some nurse, which is like. So not sexy.

PEIP is PEIP- they fit right in where they were. In the shadows, in the dark, fighting the threats that the “special people” won’t, protecting people on a lower level than “oh god, the apocalypse,” because apparently the superheroes aren’t concerned with espionage or alien meteors anymore. The pricks. Mostly run by people without superpowers- as far as they know- and deeply concerned with keeping heroes responsible for their own actions. They would be oversight, if they were allowed to be.

CCRP Technical is an interesting place. Charlotte and Ted work there, for Sam, though neither of them is quite sure what it actually does. Paul was recruited in hopes he’d grow into upper management, but he didn’t have the ambition for it. Bill has been there for a decade or two now, ever since he started attending those meetings with Becky and Mrs. Davidson. Melissa... Melissa is their rising star. Mr. Davidson isn’t sure what they found in her, but he’s glad to see her succeed! Good for her! Four for you Melissa, you go Melissa!

Hatchetfield.... is Hatchetfield. It’s small, it’s insular, it’s full of gossip and weirdness and people with eccentric ideas of morality. It might be easier to admit that superheroes and supervillains exist, but let nobody say that the citizens of Hatchetfield ever took the easy road. They will walk uphill, in the snow, denying the supernatural both ways.

Paul is a real sweetheart. He’s autistic, he’s quiet, he likes his routine and the simple pleasures in life... and he just happens to be unkillable and he maybe possibly sort of has the ability to fly. He could be an excellent addition to either team, but he refuses to be a proper superhero, making him Hatchetfield’s most obvious target. Which in turn means that he often ends up acting like a proper superhero against his own will. He thinks Emma is perfectly lovely and still hasn’t noticed her committing crimes.

Emma is Hidgens’ Lab Assistant, which is code for “committing crimes for college credit,” and she does a lot of the footwork for him. Being a henchman definitely tops food service, lets put it that way. She also gets to follow in the family business- a long line of Perkins supervillains ended when Jane broke free and became a real hero for Tom’s sake. She always wanted to be a good person, but Emma is not as opposed to violence. She also cannot wait for Hidgens to level Hatchetfield, which is made complicated by the fact that she likes Paul rather a lot, and he likes Hatchetfield.

Hidgens is a supervillain. He never leaves his house, orchestrates incidents of immense damage to the civic infrastructure, and refuses to acknowledge that just maybe putting children into the path of radioactive chemicals is not a valid scientific experiment. He’s not necessarily a bad person, it’s just that his morals refute even the idea of black and white. More like blue and red. Orange and green. He is of the opinion that world peace can only be achieved by world domination, and therefore has begun a track to world domination. He and Sam have a blood feud of indeterminate origin.

Becky Barnes, low-level healer and walking anesthetic, somehow ended up in charge of the Board of Directors. The last leader disappeared three days after handing off control, and Becky is still looking for them. Becky is very conspicuously not looking for her ex-husband, however. It makes some people suspicious, and nobody more than Sam, who is Stanley’s most obnoxious cousin. Apparently, ruining Becky’s life runs in the family. Despite these troubling events, Becky does her best to keep the city standing and the world turning- she and Bill manage what they can, Carol and PEIP manage what they can’t. She’s still in a precarious place, however, and she’s looking for help.

Frank Pricely supplies everyone with gadgets. Hero and villain alike, everyone pays. Not always the same price, but everyone pays. He’s a neutral party, and he acts the part, but everybody likes to debate his loyalties. There’s no such thing as truly neutral, right? Everyone has their price- even him. It’s just a matter of what that price is.

Lex is his cashier, which means that she learned early on in her career in retail that the panic button is not half as good a first resort as the paralysis darts Frank keeps in the cash drawer. She has the ability to manifest objects, as long as she knows where they are. She needs a concrete location to pull them away from, which means that she snoops in every house she visits, checks the staff rooms of every store she enters. She can, on command, find you just about anything you need. For a price. She’s learning a lot lately, though, and what she learns about her powers might put her at risk.

Bill is one of the few members of the Board of Directors still standing. He and Becky get coffee all the time, and commiserate about the lack of help in Hatchetfield. He has telepathy, and certain illusionary abilities, which come in especially handy when he’s talking people down or trying to sneak hostages out of hostage situations. A gentle, well-intentioned man, Bill is not outwardly very intimidating, but he’s strong. Much stronger than most people would like to think. Becky keeps trying to hand off leadership to him, and he gently hands it back every time- he’s got other problems to deal with right now.

Formerly married to the infamous Perkins family heiress, Tom tries to live a nice, quiet life. He used to be a hero- and a damn good one- but Jane defected for him, and then died for it, and he carries more guilt than he probably should. Tom never thought of himself as special, really, and he still doesn’t. He can warp matter- twist it into shape, turn it from one thing to another, and he’s a fine craftsman when he wants to be. But it’s a dangerous thing to have on hand when you’re angry or frightened, and Tom still has an awful case of PTSD hanging around his neck. He’s doing his best to wrangle with it, but he’s going to need some help.

Ethan is just a teenager. Really, he promises. He absolutely swears. Nothing special about him! He’s just real intuitive! He and Lex have been looking into that whole “experimentation” thing they did at CCRP back when they were babies and it wasn’t even interesting! He’s just a mechanic, honestly. He’s a straight C student! He hasn’t even joined the cult off the coast on that houseboat!! He’s a good kid. No reason to be concerned at all.

Ted is also Hidgens’ henchman, but definitely the lower-ranked of the two. He applied hoping he’d make some friends, but thus far all he’s managed to do is fall in love with Charlotte, who is Sam’s henchman. It’s not going badly for him, but it’s not going well, either. He and Paul still work together. Every time Hidgens asks, Ted is like “Paul? Nah. He’s totally normal.”

Gary is a mob lawyer. He used to work for Emma’s family, but now he works for Sherman and Linda. They’re technically competition, and if they ever find out that he’s playing both sides he’ll absolutely die, but in the meantime he is racking up that cash. He is so rich. He is capable of great evil, and occasionally does terrible things, but overall he’s an affable guy. He and Charlotte had an unfortunate tryst once that ended with her tying him to the Welcome to Hatchetfield sign with his own scarf, but he still pines for her. She’s the one that got away. And continues to get away. cops hate her: local woman refuses to go to jail.

MacNamara still works for PEIP, which is only slightly a different job, on account of there being very public superheroes in this world. He and Xander have been married for ten years, but they are both under the (mistaken) impression that it wasn’t a real marriage because it was done undercover. He thinks about that and is very sad about it sometimes. But they’re partners, and that’s good enough that he can be content with it. For now. He has the ability to intensify or nullify other people’s superpowers, and he does his best to keep it quiet. He thinks there’s something noble about living without superpowers, and vaguely wishes that he and Chad’s roles were swapped- until he remembers that Chad has one (1) brain cell to his name.

Xander has the ability to speak to computers. It’s not flashy, at first glance. It doesn’t have the pizzazz of Paul’s gifts or the subtle mind fuckery of John and Bill’s. But he can know whatever he wants, can hear anything, tap any phone call, look through any webcam. He doesn’t, because he’s not a fucking creep, but he can. PEIP was lucky to find him before CCRP- and so was everyone else in the world. Xander’s not flashy in general- he keeps a lot to himself. He and John have been partners for a long time, and they still haven’t said they love each other. He still hasn’t told John that he’s a member of the Board. He still hasn’t told John that he and Paul are in the same book club.

Schaffer doesn’t need powers. You think she needs powers? Her power is that she breathes and death turns away. PEIP was built by good people like Schaffer, people with principles and strong hearts and ice cold spines of steel. Normal, human people, unremarkable except that they chose to be better. She’s fourth-generation PEIP, born and raised to believe in the service they do, the protection they provide. Some of the more bitter agents will say that Schaffer benefitted from nepotism. They will never say this in front of her, because deep down they know she did not and they know that she will prove it by kicking their asses. She and Carol used to date, but the strain of crossing enemy lines in what was, essentially, a Cold War between PEIP and the Board got to them both. Schaffer is the person Hidgens called after he got struck by lightning.

Charlotte is Sam’s henchman and quietly in the running for longest con ever pulled. One day she is going to off him and take his place as the leading supervillain in Hatchetfield, but that day is not today. She likes Ted, but Sam keeps telling her to kill him, so their relationship amounts to “the inherent eroticism of trying to murder each other”. Nobody is entirely certain how she does what she does, but she’s very, very good at her job. Emma looks up to her just a little. She had a therapist once. He tried to sleep with her. She no longer has a therapist. She does have a very lovely goldfish, however.

Mr. Davidson is MacNamara’s twin brother and Hidgens’ ex. His wife is a genuine bona fide Batman-level hero in a bigger city, so he occasionally gets kidnapped or tortured. Hidgens still writes him bitter and mildly threatening love ballads that he genuinely treasures and sends very heartfelt thank you notes for. His life is so messy. There’s so much drama. He’s also completely powerless and cheerful about it. (Re: the Working Boys.... he’s Chad. Chad MacNamara Davidson.)

Alice is developing absolutely no superpowers and she’s really really annoyed about it. She used to take this out on Lex, as teenagers will, but after Lex dropped out she began to regret that. Too little and much too late, but regret is regret. She keeps trying to mend that bridge, but it’s not working. Unfortunately for her, she’s still been seen with Lex and Ethan, and that’s enough. Imminent danger perceives no difference between friend and foe. Alice is full of a very different kind of potential, however, and sooner or later all that bottled-up anger and stress will lash out.

Deb, on the other hand, is an intern at the Board of Directors’ headquarters, which is now St. Damien’s given that Becky is in charge. Interns for heroes are much less common than henchmen working for villains, but Deb has a keen interest in coordination and overseeing operations. Bill hates having her on comms for missions, but she’s just... so good at her job. She can brew a pot of Red Bull twice-steeped coffee, arrange a date with Alice, avoid an international incident, redirect PEIP and talk Bill through defusing a bomb in the same ten-minute stretch. Lesbians can do anything. This is a fact. They are the backbone of our society.

Hot Chocolate Boy is full of secrets. And hot chocolate.

And speaking of St. Damien’s, do you recall poor Bridgette, who lost her eyesight in a horrible accident? I’m not saying Hatchetfield is going to have it’s very own Matt Murdock expy, but I am saying that. She’s blind, she’s Catholic, and she’s coming for your kneecaps.

Linda is a very low-level villain who operates out of her husband’s office and sics her Boating Club on people. Gerald should technically be a threat, given that it’s the Monroe family prerogative to slaughter rising heroes with an alacrity that distinguished them from all the other families in Hatchetfield. He is not. He’s barely even a henchman. Linda got all the bloodlust between the two of them, and she is out for blood from the start. Though initially quickly defeated, she grows in seriousness over the course of time and ends up a formidable threat with a weighty grudge against Becky and Lex. She’s not much in a physical fight, Linda, but she is deeply, deeply vindictive, and she’s willing to make any deals she has to to bring Becky down. Any deals. With anyone. Anything.

Sherman Young is a mob boss, and you know it. He’s a real creep and he’s got some sick hobbies, even for a man in his line of work, but somehow the 80s jacket and the comb-over mullet make it all worse. He’s the richest man in town, and that’s saying something, but if Linda has a say in things he won’t be for long. The Youngs, the Monroes, and the Perkins have been at war since the founding of the town, and Sherman is cutting down his competition. He might have even arranged for Jane’s accident to happen, but nobody is sure. Nobody living, anyway.

Sam is a villain. He’s not super or anything. He’s just a villain. He’s top-tier Joker-level normie, but he still goes toe-to-toe with all kinds of heroes. Notable for being pretty much exactly the same as his show counterpart in regards to his proclivity for threats and violence. He once told Paul to “talk to his fucking gun” only to find that Paul is, despite all outward appearances, fucking immortal. He is still very embarrassed about it. He’s up and coming in the Hatchetfield Villain circuit, but he’s definitely a threat. To who? Who can say. Somebody, somewhere.

Papa Ed is a PEIP informant, and he has the ability to speak to animals. He’s raising Peanuts to be a very small, very enthusiastic little squirrel spy.

Man in a Hurry is a former speedster who lost his powers and compensates for it by Being In A Hurry at all times.

Homeless Man is a CCRP agent. He specializes in camouflage and compassion. He doesn’t remember what came before, but he knows something did, and finding out what it was is all he has left to hope for.

Howard Goodman does not have superpowers, but he’s got gumption. Okay, I lied. He doesn’t have gumption. But he’s a very nice man.

[seulgiswhoreee]

request list

SMUT

pick a number and put it in your request along with a random pairing (like incubus!____ x virgin!reader) and a brief plot :)

KINKS 1. pussy slapping 2. breeding kink 3. acarophilia (arousal from scratching) 4. anal 5. barebacking (unprotected sex) 6. begging 7. breathplay 8. bondage 9. breast/nipple torture 10. breast/nipple worship 11. praise kink 12. degradation kink 13. daddy kink 14. cock worship 15. collaring 16. cunnilingus (oral sex basically) 17. dacryphilia (arousal from crying) 18. dirty talk 19. double penetration (one anal, one vaginal) 20. double vaginal penetration (2 dicks or toys penetrating the vagina) 21. face fucking 22. face slapping 23. gerontophilia (being attracted to way older people) 24. alcohol or drug consumption before, after, or during sex 25. intercrural sex (basically fucking in between the thighs) 26. JOI (giving your partner masturbation instructions) 27. katopronophilia (sex in front of a mirror) 28. size kink 29. bulge kink 30. orgasm denial 31. temperature play (ice cubes or hot wax) 32. quirofilia (aroused by long ass fingers and/or big hands) 33. sensory deprivation 34. somnophilia 35. phone sex

ANTI-SMUT (like angst, comedy, fluff)

Pick a number, make a random pairing (i.e husband!____ x reader) and give me a brief plot to request! :)

PROMPTS

"Ma'am, is this your dog?"

“No, it’s really not that complicated. He’s a bad person.”

“Hey… what’s wrong with your face?”

“Ah yes, come in. Close the door behind you.”

“How could you do this to me?”

“Um, sorry. That one’s not for sale.”

“You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.”

“Ain’t nobody ever told you who your real daddy is?”

“I know this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.”

“Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

“Just sit around and cry, then. I don’t have that luxury.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s the nice thing about telling the truth. You don’t have nearly as much to keep track of.”

“Of course we’re best friends. No one else would put up with our shenanigans.”

“That’s the least of your worries.”

“You look a lot different from your profile picture.”

“Do you trust me?”

“You found it on the beach? You know, when most people take a walk on the beach, they pick up seashells.”

“Sir. This is for children only.”

“I haven’t tried this on a human yet, but it should be very similar.”

“What? I meant it as a compliment.”

“Who put this in my coat pocket?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“You think you’re so good-looking, but deep down, you’re the kind of ugly that PhotoShop can’t fix.”

“I know you did your best, but it just wasn’t enough.”

“Even if I could stop it, I wouldn’t.”

“You have got to see this.”

“Guess who made the evening news?”

“I don’t really think of myself as a thief…”

“Are you just going to keep walking by my house or are you going to come in?”

“We do things a little differently in the 21st century.”

“Please return to your assigned seat.”

“Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.”

“I can’t believe I used to think he was attractive.”

“Actually, you are speaking to the manager.”

“Where are your clothes?”

“Well, this contest isn’t going to rig itself.”

“Hi, I’m calling about your ad?”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago.”

“I am only telling the truth when I say that you have not behaved completely as a gentleman in this matter.”

“I thought we were friends!”

“That’s not a good look.”

“It’s a genetic trait, but it’s exceptionally rare.”

“I love you, but I don’t even think I know who you really are.”

“She’s evil, but she does have a point there.”

“I didn’t know you could talk.”

“Sweetie, what were you thinking?”

“What makes you think it was an accident?”

“Sorry. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in ten years.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?”

“I know you’re here. You may as well show yourself.”

“Get a job!”

“This isn’t going to be a typical best man speech.”

“According to this, you owe them eighty thousand dollars.”

“We thought at first that it was part of the performance.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen y’all in church.”

“I would break his thumbs right now if I could.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“That’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard to have a baby.”

“I didn’t even recognize you!”

“Is it worth breaking your vows over?”

“I told you not to read that.”

“Put the turkey down.”

“I didn’t ask to be abducted.”

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Are you banned from all Taco Bells or just that Taco Bell?”

“I thought you had him!”

“Humility is not one of my many virtues.”

“How can you stand living here?”

“She’s young, fertile, and from a good family. What more do you need to know?”

“Sometimes being a total geek pays off.”

“You don’t have the correct paperwork.”

“Careful not to break the—oh.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah.”

“I’d love to help, but I want to keep all of my money in case I want to spend it on other things.”

“Well aren’t you the cutest little thing?”

“Why is that your password?”

“Please don’t use sarcasm. It confuses me.”

“After we lost you, things just weren’t the same.”

“If you were logical you would’ve killed me already.”

“Well, that could’ve gone better.”

“Sometimes I feel like she’s still at my side.”

“We’ve been waiting two hours.”

“Your services are no longer required.”

“I feel like we’ve met before…”

“Does he hit you?”

“Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

“This used to be a great country, but people like you are destroying it.”

“I’m cured. I swear.”

“My chances of living to a ripe old age are unfortunately excellent.”

“Let’s face it, you don’t exactly blend in.”

“Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to make out?”

“The next time you shoot a guy, don’t do it on national television.”

[cicici03]

Just Listen- Chapter 5

“Oh lord, why the nephew who almost went to jail open the door?” Lisa, Cierra’s mom and Angelo aunt stated while walking in the door first. Angelo look at his aunt with so much hatred, if she was not family, he burns her like he did that lady.

“Stop talking about my son Lisa before I beat your ass!” Christy yelped at her sister, pointing her finger at her. Lisa walked on and start yelling, “Where is my grandbabies and son in law.”

Tre shook his head hearing his mother in law. One thing is for sure, Cierra and Lisa were two different people. Lisa was a person that would tell it like it is and do not care what comes out her mouth. While Cierra is more a passive aggressive person, who is silent and keep things in until it boils over.

As Tre starting walking to the foyer, he saw a sea of people hugging. Tre felt so happy and so much joy, that was not here this morning. Somebody screamed “Tre!” which lead to everybody looking towards him. He went up to them with a smile on his face hugging everyone of the Rhodes-Mitchells family.

After hugging about 15- 20 people, he started noticing his wife was missing.

“Hey Tre, where is my daughter.” Marcus, Cierra’s father, said to Tre. Marcus was the person who could reel people back in. Marcus and Tre were not always the best of friends. After he got Cierra pregnant at 17 with the twins, he felt like he ruins her future. However, things started to get better along the time as he saw Trevante was there for the long road with Cierra.

“ I really don’t know. Let me see if she is in the bedroom.” Tre said as he ran up the stairs to their room. As he tried to open the door, it would budge.

“Cierra, open the door. Everybody is here!” Tre told her through door. “Please let us have a good week this week.” Tre whispered closely to the door.

Cierra got up from the bed and open the door and looking at her husband in the face for the first time in a day or two. Tre looked at his wife’s face and it look so drained.

“You look drained.” Tre gulped with tears in his eyes. The woman, the woman who he got pregnant at 17, the woman he said I love you too, and the woman he has been with since he was 16 was not herself. She was different, not a good different, a different were he could not help her.

“ I’m drained.” Cierra trembled with the words because the tears were doing more of the talking. She looked at the man she has been with for more than ten years, the man who took her womanhood, and the man who she loves with every fiber. However, he change so much, not a good change, a change where she could not help him.

Cierra walked pass Tre and walked down the stairs. Tre heard many “There Cierra go!”, “ Look at that body, little cousin I need you give your workout.” ,“Cierra you can’t call your damn momma!”

Tre sighed and wipe the tears that was in his eyes and walked the stairs with his smile.

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

With the food being ready, everybody sat in the formal dining room. All fellow shipping with each other, Tre smile and just was happy. With him, sitting at the head of the table, and the kids to the right side of him.He looked at his wife who was beside him, tossing her food around the plate.

Tre was not the only one that notice, her momma did. “Baby, why you sad! Stop being so damn sad, you always were a sad girl!” Lisa said interrogating her daughter while sipping her 4th cup of wine. With her saying that, everybody attention was following the conversation that just been started by Lisa.

“There’s nothing wrong momma!” Cierra seethed with anger stabbing her pasta with her fork with every word. “Well, Cierra how is Ebonixs going.” Mark said diffusing the situation with his wife and daughter.

“It’s going good Daddy; it is getting bigger and bigger.” Cierra smiled while talking about it to her family. As Tre was about to say something, Amaya asked him a question.

“Daddy I really have to go pee like now.” Amaya yelped in pain from wanting to hear and listen to the gossip of the adults. The five-year-old, was always trying to hang with the big kids.

“Okay My My, go on,” Tre said while trying to listen to a conversation. Amaya went to the toilet and went back the way she came from. With that, she had to cross the foyer, which she heard knocking on the door.

Amaya knew she was not supposed to answer the door without an adult. She looks over to the living room and saw that her older cousins where to busy playing the game with her brother.

“ Ja Ja, there someone at the door.” Amaya walked into the living room looking at her cousins and brother playing 2k19. “ Amaya just open the door,” Jakob screamed with his eyes on the screen “ That is why your ass just got beat my boy. Everybody goes on and pay up.” Jakob said with his hand out. With some of his cousins paying him some money because they lost the bet. Amaya just rolled her eyes and went back to the door.

Amaya looked out the window on the side of the door and saw a big man at the door. Amaya reached for the doorknob to open the door. When Amaya looked up, she saw a tall, dark man.

“ Ohhh you must be Amaya. My name is Mike, is your momma around.” Mike asked while looking into the beautiful interior of the house. “Who are you?” Amaya asked with a questionable look at the man.

“ Oh I am one of your mommy’s friends.” Mike said while looking around. He notices a lot of cars, but thought they were people at her neighbors. “Oh okay, I can show you to her.” Amaya smiled holding her hand out.

He smiled and took her hand following her. He heard a lot of talking but blocked it out. Once they got the arch way of the dining room, he knew he should not have come. “Oh, I can talk to your mom another time!” Mike tried to let Amaya’s hand go.

“ Oh no, I can get her attention for you.” Amaya said with much assurance. With that, Amaya gulped and let out a big scream. With eyes finding the noise, all eyes were on Mike and Amaya.

Cierra got buck eye and she spit out the water that was in her mouth. Cierra looked at Angelo who is was looking at Tre. Angelo finally looked at Cierra and shook gave her look and turn the other way.

“ Momma your friend Mike wants to talk to you.” Amaya beamed with happiness with her mission of getting Mike to her mom. Cierra’s grandma, Nettie, on her dad side shouted “ Any friends of Cierra or Tre’s is our friends too.” Cierra still in shocked did not even think about looking at her husband because she knew it was going to be bad.

Mike saw Cierra face, and then he found the face that was the most frightening. Tre was looking him dead in the eye with this evil glare. “ Well Ms. I think I should go back home. My daughter would be home any second.” Mike murmured to them while looking at Tre.

Mike you are here trying to save a marriage. Just fuckin do it! Mike thought.

“Well, I do have one thing to say. Tre, I hope you are doing well. Today during my meeting with Cierra...” Mike stammered while looking at Cierra who was pleasing with eyes not to do it.  Do it, this will help their marriage. Mike thought. “Well we talk about you not having a job for a while, which I believe that it is not none of your fault, but the producer’s fault. I know how us Black men want to provide for our family and it can be stressful,” Mike looked around but not at Tre, “With that, I want to put you in my new movie that your wife has given me for Warner Brothers.” Mike stammered even more.

“You know to make sure you are being a good husband and father.” Mike boldly declared to Cierra’s and Tre whole family.

You dumbass why would you say that.

 After he said that, the tensions were thick and was not moving. Tre stood up and all eyes was on him. He walked over to Mike and looked at him with the meanest glare. “Get the fuck out of my house and never come back!” Tre thundered to Mike with venom in each word.

Tre then looked at his wife, who had tears falling down her eyes and could not look at him. Tre shook his head and went to his room and slammed the door.

With everybody looking at Cierra, who was being usher away to another room by Momma T and her Aunt Christy.

Well that was not supposed to end that way.

——————————————————————

Cierra?Tre? Mike? Lisa and Cierra’s relationship? Main question that I have: Is there something that we don’t know about what Tre have done? Baby the tea is hot and it is boiling over!

@l-auteuse @munteanhore @ljstraightnochaser @19jammmy @twistedcharismaaa: Taglist

[frasier-crane-style]

oKAY, I got a few Redbox rental for my birthday, so I decided to pick up Spider-Man: Far From Home, skip all the Disney Channel Original Movie stuff, and see how it stacks up as a pure Spider-Man movie. Which is not easy, because they’re in full Marvel movie mode, and every two minutes there’s a wacky aside or a sight gag or something. It’s not even Peter making jokes, which would be in-character. It’s just banter about Happy’s password being Password and stuff. There’s not one wholly dramatic scene in this movie, it has this Epic Movie sense of humor where something ‘hilarious’ is always defusing the tension. Like, all that’s missing is Leslie Nielsen being the tour guide.

1. Mexico. Mysterio has used ‘Sandman’ (confusingly referred to as a ‘cyclone with a face’--and then Spider-Man never even fights him) to destroy a town. I gotta say--if Mysterio has the ability to pull off no-bullshit terror attacks... yeah, the Sandman is fake, but the damage is real... why not just do that? It seems like there are a ton of evil organizations who would pay him loads of money.

2. Also, Mysterio is really not shy about lowering the dome and showing his face. Wouldn’t a quick facial recognition scan, of the kind that you’d think Nick Fury would run all the time, ID him as Quentin Beck? And even if he’s going “hey, that’s my double, I’m from an alternate universe,” shouldn’t Nick Fury be a bit suspicious that the double of this mysterious new superhero is a disgruntled and unstable Stark employee?

3. By the way, I know the twist is that Nick Fury is really a Skrull and that’s why he’s so incompetent--telling Peter to take his mask off in front of fucking Mysterio--but Nick Fury left a Skrull playing him, so... who’s that on? You’d think any given Agent of SHIELD would do better.

4. First action scene. Hydroman attacks Venice and is defeated by Mysterio, with Spider-Man slightly assisting. He’s left his costume back at the hotel, so he does this while using a Venetian mask to disguise himself. Hilariously, he quickly takes this off to, yes, show us his face. (Also, I guess no one notices that Not!Spider-Man is wearing the exact same clothes and has the exact same body type as Peter.) He also doesn’t make any quips besides referring to himself as “really strong and sticky.” Being awkward is not a one-liner, movie. 

5. Also, others have pointed out that this Spider-Man seems more concerned about saving property than saving lives, and it must be said that for much of this fight, Peter is trying to stop a belltower from collapsing, with no sign that he’s buying time for people to evacuate it or anything. Sure, it’s a worthy goal and all, but I have to ask how much good patching a belltower up with webbing is going to do? It’ll dissolve in an hour and then where are you? Does he really think the authorities will be able to fix it up before then? Seems like he would be better served letting it collapse and attacking Hydroman to keep him from doing more damage.

6. You ever notice how movie characters always refer to sleeping pills and such as ‘a mild sedative’? Naut Fury shoots Ned/Ganke with a dart that instantly knocks him out, then calls it “a mild tranquilizer.” Christ, what would a strong tranquilizer do, put him in a coma for ten years?

7. Man, it’s weird how inconsistent this movie is with basic characterization. Peter turns down saving the world because Spider-Man being seen in Europe might give away his identity, but he’s also blase about taking off his mask in front of Nick Fury and co. And Tom Holland walking around unmasked really makes it obvious that his suit is a CGI effect that his head is awkwardly hovering on top of. I guess just putting someone in a costume is a lost art.

And I’m not even watching this on Blu-Ray. This is a DVD, because Redbox is shit and, even though their e-mail said the promo code was good for a Blu-Ray, apparently I can only use it for a DVD. Thanks, thanks for ruining my special day. Prats.

8. I know the whole EDITH thing has been meta’d elsewhere, but I just want to point out that Stark Enterprises has a ‘global defense network’. With drones and backdoors into every telecommunications company. Imagine if Microsoft announced that, oh, hey, we have a Panzer division. I guess Stark Enterprises is a PMC now? I thought they went into clean energy. Apparently they still make weapons, but now they... hoard them to use for their own purposes? Not creepy at all. Like, Marvel does realize they are writing an evil megacorporation here, right?

9. Oh, now we’re just getting aggressively stupid. Peter is met by a SHIELD agent who insists that he strip to change into an alternate, non-Spider-Man suit (so I guess, after an action scene where he’s in civilian clothes, now we’re going to get one where he’s in this spy costume. Yeah, I hate seeing Spider-Man in a Spider-Man movie.) I’m not sure why he has to do this now instead of simply putting the suit in his backpack. I’m also not sure why he has to strip in front of her. He doesn’t even try to go somewhere private to change and she doesn’t say anything like “Why are you taking off your clothes in front of me like a retard? Go around the corner or something, fuckwit.” It’s all to set up a scene where Peter gets seen by his (sigh) rival for MJ’s heart, who takes a cell phone picture, leading us to... well, leading me to wonder why they couldn’t have put a little more thought into staging this scene so it was slightly believable? Like he could have trouble putting it on in private, the female agent could go to check on him, and Random Non-canon Character could stumble in on them that way. But anyway.

10. With literally insane ease, Peter designates Brad a target and EDITH launches a drone strike on him. For various ridiculous reasons, Peter can’t just say abort, so he eventually distracts EVERYONE by saying there are baby mountain goats, webs the drone while no one is looking, and--that works. No one notices.

Man, that’s some fucking weaksauce.

11. I’m fast-forwarding a bunch, but we seem to spend a lot of time on Peter trying to get his friends out of harm’s way for the upcoming fight scene in Prague, only for them to end up in harm’s way. For the second action sequence in a row. It seems like he could’ve succeeded and then just been trying to rescue normal civilians instead of people he knows personally, but then I guess we couldn’t have Ned and Betty/Gwen providing odious comic relief every other moment. Like, shit, Marvel, if you like dumb jokes so much, why don’t you just get Mike and the Bots to riff your movie? That’s pretty much what you’re doing anyway.

12. Peter’s new costume has no fingers on the gloves, so he’s leaving his prints everywhere. And then after the fight is over, the first thing he does is unmask and go out to get a drink with an also unmasked Mysterio in a crowded bar (hilariously, it literally turns out to be full of enemies who mean him harm). Jesus, movie, does he care about his secret identity or not? 

13. Also, again, no quips from Spider-Man. And I thought the watchword for this corner of the MCU was that he was a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Now he’s fighting giant monsters? Yeah, even if it’s a con job, it’s a con job that could potentially kill millions of people. Doesn’t that seem like absurdly high stakes, considering? Remember the first Spider-Man movie, when the only stakes at the climax were Peter saving a bus full of kids and MJ? Would that really have been better if there’d been another five million buses the Green Goblin was threatening to drop?

14. We’re doing the whole “does Peter want to be Spider-Man or not?” story again. It’s weird how markedly inferior this take on that is to Spider-Man 2. This Spider-Man has a whole spy network and AI satellites backing him up (which doesn’t stop him from remarking that Mysterio is “the only one he can talk to about superhero stuff,” as if fifty people don’t know who he is). Maguire’s Spider-Man’s life was genuinely shitty because of his superheroing; he couldn’t be with the woman he loved! This Spider-Man... can’t mack on the girl that he inexplicably has a crush on out of nowhere. Not exactly the stuff of great drama.

15. Pause to point out what a naked plot device Tony giving Peter EDITH is. He couldn’t give it to Pepper? Rhodey? Steve? Like... anyone who’s more emotionally mature and experienced? It’s just a ridiculous conceit. Supervillains literally target Peter specifically because he possesses EDITH. Way to put the crosshairs on a sixteen-year-old boy, Tony ‘Depraved Indifference’ Stark.

16. “To my very wealthy crew!” Okay, so I guess Beck isn’t just doing this for the satisfaction of being a fake superhero, he sees this as enriching him and his henchmen somehow? How? It’s not like Captain America or Scarlet Witch are fabulously wealthy. I could see Stark as paying for their room and board and giving them an expense account, but that doesn’t seem worth going to the trouble of this whole Mysterio business for. Like I said, once you have the power to pull off fake/not-fake terror attacks, that’s a golden ticket already. Why couldn’t he do shit like Le Chiffre was doing in Casino Royale, playing the stock market with his fake catastrophes? 

16a. And okay, so you say the whole Mysterio thing was just to con EDITH off of Peter. If they’re already able to pull off these terror attacks, how much more can EDITH do for them? It’s like, you already have essentially unlimited resources as far as the story’s concerned--why do you need EVEN MORE unlimited resources?

16b. And is Mysterio going to be a real superhero or fake? Like, is he potentially going to fight Thanos or someone? Because if he is, the whole Elemental thing seems like an unnecessary risk. Just find some HYDRA guys, go to town on them, bang, you’re a superhero. And if you’re going to be a fake Avenger--well, what do you do when Thanos shows up? Call in sick?

17. So in his new, definitely Miles Morales suit, Peter has the ability to send out a destructive electric charge. A venom blast. He has a venom blast. Man, they’re not even trying to hide that this is white Miles Morales, are they? 

18. To damn with faint praise, I thought the drone swarm was a good ‘real-world’ explanation of Mysterio’s power set and the ‘nightmare’ sequence was a good use of them, although it’s just the usual hallucinatory imagery you’d expect from someone with an illusion gimmick, not something as groundbreaking as the Raimi movies offered. Coincidentally, this is also the one action sequence in the movie where Peter’s in his classic costume, and that’s only an illusion Mysterio puts over his dumb Night Monkey suit. 

I also think Peter being able to survive being hit by a train more or less uninjured--he just needs a few stitches!--is a bit much, but then, that happened in Spider-Man 2.5 as well. And there they made a big deal of Peter and Ock trying to avoid getting hit by trains, so arguably that was more egregious. 

And it’s weird to have such a self-aware, genre-savvy villain just assume Peter is dead. It seems like he could’ve at least sent someone to the next station to confirm his death, or even had someone waiting there, if his plan all along was to hit Peter with a train. (Also, I’m pretty sure train conductors stop the train when they hit someone, but maybe that’s only an American thing.)

19. By the end, Mysterio decides to drop the whole illusion thing to frame Spider-Man for the drones (Peter’s friends are also put in danger yet again. Three times in one movie! That’s basically every action sequence that really happens!). I’d think disorienting people with invisible drones would be an advantage you wouldn’t want to just get rid of, but he’s the supervillain, not me. Noticeably, this plan hinges on him dying and posthumously ruining Spider-Man’s life, so...

20. Also, I complained about this with Captain Marvel, but if you’re doing a two-hour movie with a supposed character arc for Peter, shouldn’t that have something to do with him winning? He pretty much only wins because the power of spider-sense which he arbitrarily received arbitrarily works for him after arbitrarily not working for a while... and if this is some kind of confidence-powered superpowers, I should note that Spider-Man 2 already did Peter losing his powers because of losing confidence and it depicted him getting them back much more effectively. This Peter I guess only needs a pep talk from Happy Hogan.

21. I mean, couldn’t they bullshit something about hacking EDITH--you know, Peter using his wits since that’s what supposedly makes him ‘the next Iron Man’--maybe turning the tables on Mysterio with a con job of his own, instead of just winning because he happens to have an illusion-proof superpower on top of a billion-dollar supersuit and a literal global defense network? Spider-Man has a global defense network, y’all. How can you lambaste Man of Steel for making Superman dark and broody and then think Iron Man Peter Parker is a good take on the character? Geez.

[bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing]

I love Hazbin Hotel and an idea bothers me all day, also i will use an oc that belongs to me,this is not romance, so don't even think about it even for a second, i love platonic bonds/family vibes etc! Alastor can't love but i love to think that he would protect you if he cares enough about you! ERROR 404: not found, i know that is not possible but i don't care and also 100% true fact: when i saw him in the pilot for the first time i was -> I see no evil there even when we get a little backstory i was -> Are you sure about that, are you sure he is evil? Because i can't look at him and see the evil part! Still i see no evil ! Enjoy! *evil laugh*

Update 1: In my defense, i want to say that it's practically screaming at me this idea to write it, it's like: do it coward, write me just do it! I'm so weak and guilty can't talk my way out of it, can I?

Update 2: Before i go into the story (fanfic) i want to say a little bit more: 1. this is not conon, it's a fanfiction don't take it too serious! 2.Some of the information comes from the Wikipedia and that being said i will use censor and i won't go into details for some characters! My advice is to use your imagination if you read it!

For this FanFiction we will have:

Mother figure: Charlie

Aunt figure: Veggie

Cousin figure: Angel Dust

Uncle figure:Husk

Little sister figure: Niffty

And of course big brother figure: Alastor also knew by her as a protector angel type...You would say wait what? He is no angel! If you will read this fanfiction you will understand why i say that, but again this is not connon, is a harmless little fanfiction nothing more and nothing less!

So, if someome already has a problem then i suggest not to read this!

3. Warning: This may contains anxiety, some gore, blood, delicate subjects and all the feels i am feeling at the moment when i write the parts so...if you think that is a little bit too much or shady/grey/waste of time it is because of how i feel! *sigh*

Update 3: In very excited to write this fanfiction and all smiling, i have so much fun, hope i can end this right and thank you for reading it, it's a harmless little FANfiction don't take it too extreme!

Disclaimer: I DON'T own Hazbin Hotel or any characters that belongs to Hazbin Hotel! They belong to vivziepop!

The Red "angel" is watching over you!

Cap 1. The first meeting

(About nearly 12-13 years in the past from the present)

It was just an old house...old as the long cracks in the walls in which the grass grows, a stone alley, who knows what secrets holds...

It was a late warm summer, when they first met, a 13 years old was waiting for her father to come home after 9 months of being away, her attention was caugh by a butterfly that was on the ground. It didn't fly away as she was approaching to him, it was too caught searching for something, it was still a hot day after all!

A tall figure dress all in red was passing by at that moment, he had a large smile on his face, another deal made, another poor victim in his hands, oh the fresh sweet blood. You see, it was not his fault that some greedy poor old bastard contact him, give the poor sucker what he want and then take what it's rightful yours, in that case another soul, that is how things work when you make a deal with the...His ears twitch as child giggle, among the decayed brown wood planks, he could see the little girl sitting on her knees trying to give water to a butterfly, it was hilarious how some people still didn't know that such things only lived for a day! Yet, for some unknown reason he couldn't move, the butterfly finally took off, surrounding her 3 times as a thank you it flies away!

"Your welcome! And if you know any butterflies that needs water please tell them to come here, i want to help them too!"

As he wanted to move his foot meet a broken twig, the cracking noise caught the girl attention, she could feel she wasn't alone, the stranger was now looking at her as she was looking into his red eyes, curiosity made it's presence!

"Hello! Would you like a glass of water, mister?"

"..."

"I never seen such a deep red color eyes, mister, it's so unreal!"

"..."

(Back in the present-that would be 4-5 months after the pilot)

Another day in Hell, nothing new, the same old boring smell of evil and despair, another souls of sinners, the same usually day at the Hazbin Hotel! Unlike the first time he arrive there things where going good, slowly but good, baby steps as the blonde once said, it was hard for the "wonderful" occupants to strictly follow the same rehabilitation routine that's why they have sketches of activities, 120 souls to take care of every 24/7, someone really needs a break!

"Good evening wonderful employers of this wonderful hotel! I must say, i just found out i have a new relation with this word wonderful since i'm here, this is the new next thing in the social civilization i didn't know i had in me!"

"Good for you Alastor! Now can we discuse the real problem here? When can i get my day off? I really have an emergency i want to take care off! See, i'm a good boy, now I do not disappear so suddenly, i'm making serious progress right here people and i also didn't use that special word for almost a week if i may add!"

"Friends let's calm down and take a deep breath!"

"That is a wonderful idea, Charlie, now if you all excuse me i have to excuse myself i can't stay much longer to listen to this wonderful speechless discussion!"

" You barely stay for what like 2 minute and now you leave? WHAT in the boulevard of the sins do you think you are going?!"

"Rude! Never ask a man where he goes, my dear!"

As soon as he left the hotel an unusual scent of vanilla, oranges and caramel meet his nose, almost making Alastor to turn around except there was something that for some unknown reason he couldn't ignore it for too long. The scent lead him to a not so friendly part of the town, usually it was quiet but only fools would take the bite and Alastor was not a such thing, it was probably worth for a challenge but the big catch was always hidden in the dark, so he didn't pay too much attention to the details, for him it was like a boring long walk anyway. Two musculars demons were caring after them a dirty old medium size potato sack with a strange shape that was moving emaning the sweet scent, as if that didn't caught Alastor attention enough, ten eggs come from behind the larger demons so their boring foe snake was again planning something unholy that wasn't new under the sky...

" Good evening! I couldn't help but notice what a little patato sack you have there for two bugbear,my suggest for you is to leave it and run if you value your pathetic lifes! Alastor could always get under his enemies skin if he wanted to, smiling and throwing insults to demons just to crack them up, those weaklings fools are a good start for him to warm up, the overlords how ever were another story not that he cared too much at that moment.For a second he looked confused then his smile appeared, what kind of twisted fate was this, he never could forget a face that easily and of course she had to be here, doesn't it?

"You are the child with the butterfly!" The voice was stady, barely the radio vibe could be heard, the red eyes searching her with interest, at first sigh Fabia didn't appear to be harmed more like confused...Fabia on the other hand, was very happy, she didn't see him for such a long time, what a happy reunion minus the kidnapping part, she couldn't explain why she was attracted by this misterious person, maybe because she always wanted a supernatural adventure of her own, that was kinda weak reason...

"As you can see I'm not a child anymore, i have grown, 13+ years more than the last time we meet!"

" I see, well my darling we should move and go to somewhere more safety but first you need better clothes; which colors are your favorite?"

"Orane, dark green and red maybe?"

"This should do it for now and one last thing from now on your name will be Fabia! Do not say your real name to any of them, trust me it's for your own protection!"

The place wasn't something like from the old movies she saw last month, the kind of black and white with girls possesses by demons who were defeated by crosses, holy water and salt, it was real and it smelled awful, needs a fresh air or at least they should take baths she thought, did she really had any reason to be afraid, the answer was yes-no?

"This is Hell and it's real, i'm not dreaming or something? This isn't one of my nightmares?"

"How did you end up here? What is the last thing you can remember?"

Was Alastor just implied that she was dead, she tought, excuse her, Fabia couldn't be like real dead, Alastor has a very dark humor in him, just a dark humor, some sweat begin to form on her forehead but what if it was true, didn't felt like a dead person!

"I was coming back from the shop-store when i assume that they were the ones who put a bag over me because this place is the next thing i see!"

"That wasn't very helpful, do you feel a sharp pain probably caused from a bullet or anything like that?"

"No, why would I? Oh no, do you think some lunatic tried to kill people in the middle of the day?"

"How should I know, dear, i wasn't there?! Since you are here, i suggest we keep moving, this hotel we are going to will be your new house, so you better start enjoying the new after-life...You will love it and the hotel staff, yes, i have a good feeling about that!"

Fabia took the news quite well, new faces, a new place to stay, new job haven't she be here before, the real question was would it better then her previously miserable life? Anyway what was great to be by yourself in a new town, without your family in an old and smelly apartment with an over-time job just to earn some money to barely survive, was there something good in her life? Probably the butterflies, how she miss those innocent days as a kid chasing and playing with them in the garden at her grandparents house, when did the nostalgia hit her as a train again for like 9999999 times already?

The first impression Fabia had when she arrived at the hotel was kinda grey, wasn't sure if the builing was even safe for someone to live in it, maybe because of the sounds that the wooden floor was making, it was nice and very warm but it should have been more colorful, that color was too screaming for her, at least it smelled fresh and clean not the outside dead scent, it also has some interesting decoration, it was clear that whoever decide to put them on the walls had a good sharp eyes.

"Fabia, allow me to introduce you to one of the greatest innovative hotels here in Hell, Hazbin Hotel and here we have the busy dedicated workers in the hotel: the none-others then Angel Dust, Niffty, Husk, Veggie and of course, the unique royal princess herself: Charlie!

"Nice to meet you all, it's great to see you and thank you for allowing me to stay here, i appreciate and i would love to help you with the hotel tasks."

"That is great, we are just about to take the dinner so take a seat! We didn't expected more people at this moment, so tell us about yourself what sins do you commit and how long have you been here?! How did you and Alastor know each other?"

There sure were a lots of questions here, becoming a quick interogation, Fabia already felt she would have a identity crisis as if being dead wasn't bad enough, poor her, trying so hard to digest the situation and be the most relaxed a person could be, all the discomfort Fabia felt at that moment, lucky for her Alastor decide to take all the possible asks it could take place, after all why all the fun must end so abruptly, she could tell he has his fun and the bad jokes as well?!

"She is new, had a recent death, i know Fabia accidently, i went for a walk, here we are, had to cancel my previously plans and i couldn't let a woman in her time of needs, i'm not a beast as someone here will say about me!"

"Thank you and as for sins when i was 10 I ate the whole box of chocolate candies and then put stones in the original packaging so noone could figure it out what i did, once i stole a lollipop from the store, i once told a lady how bad her new hairstyle is, she looked like a crazy duck with that hair, on my 14 birthday i drank my first two alcoholic beers that was one time and some things i regret i said and all the oyher times i was nervous because you know how is at work, the boss should just shut up! I guest i have a little bit of every sin in me, couldn't helped myself!"

There was a long silence before everybody in the room returned to their plates and start to eat, at least for a while it will be quiet and peace and Fabia loved that, she wasn't the kinda person who would talk more like the quiet type, hasn't she been all her life? Now the more she thought about it the more she realised that maybe this was the place for her, here in Hell, she wish she could laugh like a madman at the irony but then again Fabia wasn't alone, maybe later!

"You aren't eating anything?"

"No, it's not like i'm not hungry or that i don't appreciate all the effort but i'm vegetarian and meat is not my kinda thing, is it alright if i can have just salad?"

"Oh sure, no problem, good to know, more reason to cook more dishes, that is wonderful!" Charlie voice was sweet and cheerful as always, it was good to know that her new life didn't affect the others, didn't want to make them feel bad, Fabia already felt like she belong there as a new family member! The food was looking good however as soon as Fabia took a bite it feelt like she was eating dirt with pieces of papers and had a very hard time to actually want to just eat!

"Are you alright?" Charlie asked her looking worried for her new companion while the others just stare except Alastor making Fabia feel uncomfortable...

"Yeah, just the salad is wither and has this taste of mold!"

"Maybe you are just tired, room 194J should be alright, it's more private and for a lonely girl it's perfect, nobody will bother you!"

"Thank you Veggie, that is nice, i would love to lay down a bit, now if you all excuse me, i wish to go to my room, have a wonderful evening!"

After she excuse herself, Fabia found her new room quickly, it was very tired being dead the whole situation and the clothes, why Alastor insisted to put so many clothes on her anyway? Was she that ugly?

"I hope you excuse me dear, i haven't knock on your door!"

"Ah, Alastor! Do not do that again, you can't go into a lady room like that, where is the privacy?"

"It isn't what a gentleman like me would usually do, i just want to tell you not to change, we will be going out as a celebration of your death day!"

"You have a celebration day?"

"Not really! But is one of those rare occasions you can find here in Hell, so, you better start to enjoy little things, tomorrow it will be chaos again!"

"Why do you use the word dear so much?"

"I use it as an insult or to piss of somebody that would be Veggie, to make someone fluster or not a really particular reason i would say!"

"Veggie and Charlie would you like to come with us for the celebration day?"

"No, tomorrow my parents will come in visit i will have to do a lot of stuff in the early morning, sorry!"

"I have to help Charlie and support her, sorry Fabia! Have fun!"

"This is not fair, i want to swear but no swearing in the hotel, afterlife is so bor-iiiiii-nnngg!"

"Angel Dust if you want to swear why not use the shortcuts? For example: D.S, A.H, M.F, U.W etc...nobody will actually notice you insult them, because they don't know what you are really refering to and the best part you can easily escape, if they ask what D.S means you can say something like Deep Strawberry is a flavour for milkshake!"

"That is a great idea, why didn't it hit me before? Damn, my fluffy chest looks horrible and i need my beauty sleep! I heard you and the answer is no, how do you think beauty is made of? Have fun!"

After two more fail attempts, Nifty didn't want to go and run into a bunch of bad breaths, dirty places and many others she couldn't exactly find the right word to describe it and Husk having a hard time being on his own two feets if there was something he loved was the drinks on the hotel, he didn't have time for sobber situations, Alastor and Fabia was already at the hotel door ready to see the new show of the night, each of them having different thoughts.

Nothing was better then clowns with low taste of humor and some old circus music, on the streets there where many interesting forms of demons: small, large, tall even with ten eyes, so many come and go, occasionally put small smiles on her face and have fun only to return to her original state.

"Having alcohol on empty stomach is not the wiser decision!"

"Then how about a caramelized apple? Would you love that? Try not to look suspicious after all this is not a place for a saint, Fabia, you might get into lot of trouble!

"Who is this diamond behind your back? She is so cute, i would love to crack her open!"

"Ahahaha, she is off limit, don't even think touch her even with one finger!"

"Touché aren't we monsieur? *Vous pouvez dire que vous avez trouvé le contraire, non? **Un cœur doux et attentionné, oui?

The strange lady whisper something in Alastor ears, made Fabia feel very uncomfortable for many reasons and Alastor just keep his smiling face the whole time, he had no problem and it look like he was enjoying the show. After the woman finish it was his turn to say something, Fabia couldn't hear any words of their silent conversation and then she just go leaving her and Alastor alone.

"Come on Fabia, we don't want to miss the fireworks show, it should begin in a few minutes!"

"Fireworks? I should go back to the hotel..."

"Why? Did something happen? Hm, are you afraid of fireworks?"

"When i was 6 on the New Year time a firework rachet couldn't fly to the sky and it explode near me, i was alright but the sound and the colorful powerful fire that it made scared me so badly...I never recovered from that trauma, i know i have a problem since then but i'm still hoping that it will pass!"

"Seem like you have all the reasons not to be here, come on, i know the perfect spot we can admire the fireworks and the sound won't make you feel stressed! Do you trust me?"

"Thank you, it's wonderful, takes your breath!"

"Glad i could help you, it would have been a shame if we couldn't stay at the final!"

"How was it for your first day of the rest of your afterlife? Did you have fun?"

"It was alright, i did have fun! Can I ask you something?"

" It depends on what you want to know!"

"Would you...um...like and want to tell me about your life? I would love to know more about you, i'm a curious little bean!"

"My...my...you sure are a curious...little bean! Maybe! This will be a story for another time!It's late, good night Fabia!"

"Good night, Alastor!"

*You can say you found the opposite, right?

**A sweet and caring heart, yes?

Till next time!

Note: I know that the action and dialogs are a bit in a rush but i tried to make it a little more realistic, when you are new in Hell you don't actually have time to stay in a place and have a long nice talk with your "friend"! It's hard to have any secrets with the person you trust the most and Fabia has no problem being around Alastor, she is a bit naive and to be honest here you can't make a deal having a fake name so Alastor can't make any deals, and he doesn't know or want to know Fabia real name, so no souls to eat in this fanfiction!

[slurrmp]

spoilers for the end of 12x02. because i saw this scene and just knew that she shouldn’t have to deal with this revelation on her own. absolutely dedicated to the wonderful @myghostmonument​

                                                           -x-

“She’s finally asleep.” Ana spoke as she stared down at the baby monitor in her hands. It was difficult to juggle having a child and still travel with the Time Lord, but somehow Ana managed it.

Maybe it had been the last ten years of her life, alternating between being super mum and trying to save the planet with Torchwood. As well as tackling the father of her first daughter, or should she say mother? Ana didn’t really get how that worked out when Time Lord’s regenerated, but Grace knew that no matter what Oliver would always be dad. Or the one she can go to if she has something incredibly naughty planned.

Leah, the newest member of their strange family had been staying with one of Ana’s work friends (the job at the hospital, with Torchwood being disbanded, Ana didn’t feel comfortable forcing Gwen to look after a baby again.). To her friend, Ana had only been gone a day and a half, while in reality she had been gone almost four days. The thirteen month old didn’t think anything of it, she was just happy to see her mother again.

Her room was set up the way it was on Oliver’s TARDIS. Just something the Australian wondered was a telepathic thing between the sentient ships as well or if Sexy just really knew her by now. It wasn’t until she almost tripped up the step in the console room that Ana finally looked up. Stumbling to a sudden stop, Ana noticed that the mood lighting was no longer the bright orange that it’s supposed to be. “Doctor?” Ana called out, turning on the spot - trying to spot the Time Lord, but instead a rather deep blue.

That’s when she noticed her almost curled up on the step. Her frown deepened, placing the monitor on the console, Ana hurridley came to stand in front of her. But the Doctor hardly noticed her, her hands curled into a fist, staring straight at the TARDIS doors. Ana knelt down then, coming to rest on the step and letting her hands lightly touch the Doctor’s knee. “What happened?”

That’s when the Doctor’s eyes snapped up, fists tightening. Ana noticed that they were starting to turn white. “They’re gone.” her voice was soft, like she didn’t want to speak too loud. Ana leaned in closer, she didn’t know what her and the Master spoke about in Paris, the Doctor had told her to stay with Ada and Noor, make sure they managed to use the phone properly. Ana knew it was just the Doctor’s way of keeping her from the other Time Lord. Too much history between the pair of them, the Doctor knew she would have a hard time restraining Ana from not pushing him off the top of the Eiffel Tower. “All of them. Gallifrey ...falls”

“Oh...” Ana spoke a hand pressing against her mouth. “Doctor ...” for someone who had been around since the early days, Ana knew how important Gallifrey was to them. Even Oliver said that her memories of the planet may not have always been pleasant, but that was her home. Where she grew up, learnt to walk, write, talk. Learnt how to fly a TARDIS. “How? I don’t understand, I thought after ... I thought you saved them all.” The hand pressed over her mouth, came back and lightly gripped onto the Doctor’s pants. She didn’t answer then, not that Ana was expecting a response anyway.

But before either of them could break the tension, a soft jingle sounded from the Doctor’s coat pocket. The Time Lord pulled out a circular device and stared at it, Ana followed suit and just waited, she knew the Doctor - she’s known the Doctor for almost her entire life, Ana knew when silence was best. The device lit up and his voice sounded in the room.

“Geo-activated.” The Doctor looked behind her, towards the funky new set up that the TARDIS had suddenly decided was a cool feature to have. And fading into sight, standing on the steps was the Master’s hologram. Ana frowned, letting her hands fall away from the Doctor’s leg as she stood up and rushed over to the hologram. “If you’re seeing this you’ve been to Gallifrey.” Ana swallowed and turned her head to look at the doors.

They were black now, not the colour of a red sunset that she was expecting, which means they were already back in space and not on the planet. Standing up slowly, Ana kept her distance from the Time Lord, knowing that this ... this was going to a tough one.

“When I said someone did that obviously I meant ... I did.” A scoff and Ana didn’t care about giving the Doctor space anymore. Moving so that she was still standing on the floor, Ana reached out her hand then and let her fingers lightly brush over the Doctor’s. It was hesitant at first, the blonde not even looking away from the Master’s face, but she let her own fingers grasp onto Ana’s. “I had to make them pay for what I discovered. They lied to us.” Suddenly the Doctor tightened her grip, now properly holding Ana’s hand. Ana could do nothing but look up at the hologram and keep the Doctor grounded. Because she knew that if she let her drift and go through this alone, there would be no turning back. “The founding fathers of Gallifrey. Everything we were told was a lie.” And it was in that moment, that Ana noticed the Master didn’t look evil or like he wanted to destroy the world, to Ana he was suddenly just a scared and alone little boy who suddenly felt betrayed by his entire family.

“We are not who we think, you or I.” Ana’s heart stopped beating suddenly, when she noticed the Master casting his eyes downward and to the right, like he knew she would be there, in that exact position. “Or even my dear sister. The whole existence of our species built on the lie of the Timeless Child.”

“Oh no...” Ana breathed out letting her gaze flicker over to the Doctor, who was watching the Master with an almost strained look. She was trying to hold herself together, but the tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself to break down, not yet anyway.

Suddenly, her hand was ripped from the Doctor’s and she keeled over, a gasp of pain escaped her, as the palm of her hand pressed to her forehead. Ana stepped up, now taller than the Time Lord, turning her back on the Master’s hologram, her face pulled into a look of worry. The Doctor pressed her hand lightly into Ana’s stomach, palm flat, like she was trying to hold herself up and Ana took in a deep breath, letting her fingers wrap around her wrist.

“Do you see it?” He continued on, but Ana wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was holding onto the Doctor like her life depended on it. “It’s buried deep in all our memories, in our identity.” He sighed and the Doctor dropped to the floor, Ana following after her, still holding onto her arm. “I’d tell you more ... but,” The Master straightened up then, his eyes turning cold once more. Ana looked up at him as well and her breath caught at the back of her throat. The scar above her brow twitching ever so slightly.

He had placed his facade up once more. No longer was he a child of Gallifrey, worried for his best friend. No ... he was the psychotic murderer that he had turned himself into. “Why would I make it easy for you? It wasn’t for me.” And then he was gone and suddenly the grip on her shirt tightened, it was tugged on. The Doctor looked away, her breathing doubling.

And with the remaining strength that she had, the Doctor yelled out and chucked the dial across the room. Heaving in a breath, Ana stayed silent, though when the Doctor turned back - she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the Time Lord. “I’m sorry...” she mumbled into the blonde’s hair. “God, I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor didn’t move for a couple of seconds, still in shock, her face pulling into a mix of upset expressions and the slight curl of her lip as she seethed on the step. But, she finally pulled herself together - letting her arms move from between them, to wrap around Ana’s skinny frame. Her hand coming up to cradled the brunette’s head, her own nose burying deep into her hair. Lips pressed against her temple, but the Doctor never said a word. It wasn’t until the sudden cries of a baby broke the pair of them up.

Ana heaved out a broken huff - something crossed between a sob and a sigh, pulling away, the Australian quickly pressed a kiss against the Doctor’s lips. Eyes sliding shut, as the Doctor buried her nails into her skin. “I’m here if you need me.” Ana mumbled against her lips before pulling away once more, standing up and racing back to grab the monitor and then disappearing down one of the many corridors.

The Doctor stayed where she was, a hand pressed against her lips. Eyes closing she tried to bring her emotions back into check, they all needed a holiday. Maybe Risa, she hadn’t taken the fam there before and Ana always loves visiting - she even has a couple of friends there she could visit, show off that new baby of hers.

So that’s what the Doctor did. She planned their next adventure, trying to hold herself together. Her hearts feeling heavy in her chest the entire way there.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (5/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: It’s been a day, my friends, and when it’s been a day I like to give you guys chapters earlier than I expected. But also because I’m sitting on chapters and want to get to the good stuff! Our favorite duo really start to interact from now on, so the slow burn you guys are feeling is speeding up!!!

As always, thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

“How hot is it in Texas right now?”

“Hotter than here, but not all that bad. Seventies, I think.”

“Well, that’s probably because that weird heat wave is over, and it’s back to being fifty degrees outside.”

“True,” Ruby sighs, pulling a dress out of Emma’s closet. “You should wear this dress. It makes your ass look fantastic.”

“No one sees my ass.” She walks over to Ruby and grabs the red dress anyways, folding it up since she knows that it won’t wrinkle. She pulls up the weather app on her phone, scrolling through the thirty cities she has saved, and finds the week’s forecast for Houston, seeing that the high is indeed mostly going to be mid-seventies. That’s good. That’s far better than it is when they have to travel during the summer. “Should I bring heels or embrace flats for the week?”

“Bring your nude pair.” Ruby chunks them at the bed, about two feet away from taking Emma’s eye out. “Oh, and the turquoise if you’re going to wear that green pencil skirt.”

“You just want to borrow them if we go out, don’t you?”

Ruby pulls her turquoise pumps out of her closet, which really needs to be organized but that’s a story for another time, and tosses them on the bed before she grabs several more shirts and pants for Emma. “You know me so well, even if we mostly go out in Texas simply to eat their food.”

“Ugh,” she groans just thinking about it. “If we’re going to do that, I need to bring looser clothing. I don’t want everyone to think I’m pregnant when it’s just a food baby.”

“I bet you everyone would think it’s Jones’s baby.”

Her eyes cut over to Ruby as she picks up her turquoise heels and places them on her striped chair. How can someone be both the worst and the best friend? “For that, I’m not bringing these heels.”

“You’re evil.”

“You shouldn’t be mean to me if you want to borrow my shoes.”

“Being mean is kind of in her wheelhouse,” Graham adds in as he pokes his head through her bedroom door, eyes glancing over the mess that’s currently happening. He’s totally judging. “Do you two realize that your flight is at six in the morning, and you’re up at two in the morning packing?”

“Do you realize that it’s two in the morning, and you have to take us to the airport at four?” Graham rolls his eyes before Ruby walks toward him and presses up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and slide her lips over his. “Thank you for doing that, by the way.”

He presses down to kiss her once more. “You’re going to be gone for three days. I’m going to miss you.”

“Cheesy,” Emma grumbles, tossing a rolled-up sock at the back of Ruby’s head. They’ve really got to stop throwing clothes. She’s never going to be able to find anything. “Can’t you two go make out in your room or something?”

“I kind of like that idea.”

“Me too. Ems, pack the damn turquoise shoes and some spanx so that you can eat and people won’t think you’re having Jones’s baby.”

“Wait, what?” Graham mutters. “You’re having Jones’s baby?”

“No one is having anyone’s baby, and it better stay that way. Use protection.”

“Pack the shoes.”

“I still don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You’re not supposed to, babe,” Ruby laughs, backing Graham out of the room and pulling Emma’s door shut behind her.

Those two are ridiculous, and if she didn’t love them so much, living with them would be nearly impossible. Seriously.

Emma gets an hour of sleep after she finishes packing (thanks late night games and early morning flights), and she’s basically a zombie as she and Ruby load into the back of Graham’s squad car as he drives them to JFK. She knows that it takes awhile to get there, but she’s pretty sure that she slept the whole time because before she even realizes it, she and Ruby are checking into their flight at the kiosk and going through security. It’s the emptiest she’s ever seen the place, and she would know. She spends far too much time in airports for her job.

When the team travels, she travels. Most of the time. Some trips she doesn’t work, and it’s glorious.

It used to not be that way. She’d only travel for the games that were actually shown on ESPN or sometimes Fox, but now that ESPN has an entire online streaming service, she’s traveling nine games out of ten and working all home games. It’s exhausting, to a point, but she has a hell of a lot of travel miles and rewards programs that she gets to keep even though the network pays for her flights and hotels. Sometimes that means she gets six am flights when she doesn’t have to be in Houston until seven in the evening, but it’s not always that bad.

And one day she’s going to use those points to travel to Italy or something.

Pasta would be really good right now.

So would coffee, but if she has coffee, she won’t sleep on the plane. And sleeping on the plane is kind of important if she wants to not look like a zombie tonight. Her face may look like a zombie, but at least her ass will look great.

She doesn’t want anyone to comment on the state of her ass. She’s the only one allowed to do that.

Okay, she’s lost her mind.

-/-

The Yankees win their sixth game of the season that night.

She eats the best barbecue sandwich she’s ever had, and a clip of her eating ends up on Sports Center.

Sometimes she wonders if people actually watch baseball for the game or if they simply watch because there’s always something weird going on in the crowd.

The sandwich was worth it.

-/-

Emma’s feet hit against the treadmill as Queen blares in her headphones and a tennis match in Monte Carlo plays on the television in front of her, Rafael Nadal sliding back and forth on the clay as he absolutely dominates his opponent. If every athlete was as good as Rafa is on clay, they’d all be dominant, but that’s likely a story for another day.

She’s got twenty-three minutes left on her run, especially since she’s going at a slow pace with a slight incline, but she can already feel the incline starting to kill her, her calves burning the slightest bit with each step that she takes. Her face is red, her hairline slicked back with sweat, and she can already tell that getting her sports bra off is going to be an impossible task. She gets that it’s for the support and all, but there should really be an easier way for her to free her boobs from their confines.

Free the boob.

Unless she’s running or walking down stairs or doing anything more than some light walking.

Her phone buzzes on the machine, and the man on the treadmill looks over at her like he’s annoyed by the fact that her phone made some kind of noise. It’s not her fault that he didn’t bring any headphones, and really, if he’s so bothered by her, he can move two treadmills down. This hotel gym is plenty big enough.  

Ruth: I saw you eating a sandwich on TV last night! That’s too funny!

Ruth: I hope you’re having fun!

Ruth: I miss you, sweetie!!!

For Ruth to be sixty-five, she has a fantastic grip on technology. She knows that it’s because she and David have taught her how to text and find clips of their segments and articles online, but still. She knows how to use emojis and gifs and even has an Instagram, which is only slightly terrifying most of the time. But she knows it’s simply to keep up with she and David’s lives since they don’t always tell her everything.

Okay, that’s mostly her.

But David has a much better relationship with Ruth, which makes sense considering she’s his mother. She’s Emma’s…quasi mother. She’s never been too sure how to go about it. Calling David her brother is much easier than calling Ruth her mom, and she knows it’s because the word mom has more heavy meaning behind it.

Emma: It was a good sandwich! Only a little time for fun since I’m here for work. I miss you too!

Ruth: There’s always time for fun!

Ruth: David and MM are driving up to visit me next weekend for the holidays. Are you coming too?

Emma: I don’t get vacation days like David does, so I’ll be in LA. I wish I could.

Her music stops between songs, and she hears the roar of the crowd on the television, seeing that the match just ended, and her treadmill starts to slow down, the time ticking down past five minutes so that it’s time for her to cool down with a slow walk while she keeps texting Ruth about the fact that she’s working over Easter weekend. She pretty much doesn’t have days off, except for days the team has off, until the season is over in October. Or early November. It depends. And then she’s back working in the office writing articles and doing prep work and occasionally having to suffer through covering basketball.

Bills must be paid, but at what cost to her having to listen to sneakers squeaking?

Ruth never seems to understand that because she thinks that she and David have the same job even though David has never once been on camera. He’s behind the scenes all the way.

When her treadmill time officially runs out, she steps off and gathers her things before finding a towel to wipe down the handles from where she touched them. Angry man is still eyeing her as she cleans up, and she seriously hopes that he is not going to be there tomorrow.

If he is, maybe he’ll be happier.

She doubts it.

He seems to just be one of those people who is particularly unpleasant all the time.

Sweat sticks to her skin as she walks through the hotel hallways, casually airing out her tank top and wiping sweat back into her hair to get it off of her face, and she very nearly walks up the stairs to go back to she and Ruby’s room when she sees people milling around the dining room with breakfast on their plates.

Breakfast would be good.

Mostly water. And coffee. She’s not entirely sure if she’s recovered from her lack of sleep yesterday, which made her question her sanity when her alarm went off for the gym this morning, but she knew if she didn’t work out then, she wouldn’t work out at all. And she needs that push of adrenaline and endorphins.

Grabbing a plate from the buffet line, she walks through and fills her plate with fruit and scrambled eggs, even if she knows they’re from a bag and not a shell, and a half of a waffle from the waffle maker. She always loves when they have those at hotels. Good continental breakfasts are her jam…especially if they have jam.

“Got enough toppings there?”

Emma nearly drops her plate when she hears his voice, and when she twists her head to the side, she sees Killian Jones standing next to her, his own plate full of food in his hand. Seriously. Why is she always running into him when she’s eating?

And sweaty.

“Not enough if you ask me.”

He adjusts his hat, a Vanderbilt one that is very obviously a decade old. “I was  asking you.”

“I like toppings,” she sighs, putting some more fruit onto her waffle before grabbing the whipped cream can and spraying some of it onto her food. Her workout is yelling at her for this. “What’s the point of a waffle if you’re not going to load it down with toppings?”

“I’m more of a pancake man myself.” He reaches into the buffet and grabs a yogurt, which is definitely not a waffle or pancake. “But considering I’m playing tonight, I’m supposed to be watching what I eat.”

“You have an entire plate of eggs.”

“Protein, Swan, protein. You would know all about that with all that barbecue you ate last night.”

Just let her sink into a hole right now and never come back up. The internet is ruining her life.

“Weren’t you supposed to be tracking Roseman’s pitches last night or something?”

She turns on her heel and walks away from the buffet to a table, knowing that Killian is walking behind her. They have the weirdest relationship. It doesn’t even feel right to call it that, but they’re somewhere between a working relationship and reluctant friends, and the fact that he’s placing his plate down on the table across from hers makes her lean more toward reluctant friends who see each other occasionally enough to have a bit of a rapport.

Her life gets weirder every day.

Killian Jones has one brave set of balls.

Baseball, testicles, whatever. Both work. At least, she thinks.

“You can eat right after you work out?” he questions, twisting the knob on one coffee machine while she does it with the other, the promise of caffeine already invigorating her.

“How do you know I was working out?”

He raises a brow before his eyes look over her, lingering a second too long at her breasts, before a slow smile creeps from one side of his lips to another that has her stomach twisting inside. “Well, it’s not because of your outfit. People dress more like they’re working out when they’re not every day, but the sweat still soaked into your clothes and in your hair are kind of a dead giveaway. Your face is flushed as well.”

“Observant.”

“I try, but it’s easy when you’re an open book.”

Totally not acknowledging that one.

She twists the knob on the machine and reaches over for the hazelnut creamer while Killian simply puts the top on his. He drinks black coffee? That’s disgusting. “Black coffee? Do you not have taste buds?”

He shrugs. “I don’t like to drink my calories. You want a water?”

She nods her head, and he grabs two bottles before following her to sit back down at her booth like it’s totally normal for them to be sharing a meal together. They’ve done it before, but that’s because she was working with him. It was not because they’re staying at the same hotel and happened to run into each other at the buffet.

Weird.

But she’s not about to be bitchy and ask him to leave when she has no reason to other than her own reluctance to talk to people before noon.

They sit in semi-awkward silence as they work through their plates. She definitely overloaded her waffle, but she would never admit that after earlier. That would be admitting defeat, and she doesn’t take too kindly to admitting defeat. Killian eats at lightning speed, scarfing down eggs and sausage, his yogurt untouched, and she wonders what it must be like to be a professional athlete and eat more than the average human being, even if it’s not all good food like pizza and onion rings and loaded down waffles filled with chocolate chips.

Her phone buzzes on the table, and she leans over to read the text from Ruth still trying to convince her to come home for the weekend when she’s already explained that she cannot.

“Boyfriend?”

“Huh?” she hums, texting a message before looking up and seeing Killian staring down at her, his eyes shaded under his cap. She’s so distracted by the fact that he asked her if she was talking to her boyfriend that she doesn’t pay attention to her answer. “Oh, no boyfriend. It’s my…um, quasi mom.”

“Quasi mom?”

Shit. She should have just said Mom. Maybe she’s a little flustered by all of this.

“She was my foster mom,” Emma explains, stuffing some eggs into her own mouth to give her some more time to talk, “when I was a teenager, but we’re still in touch because her son, David, is kind of like this big brother to me. I work with him and am close to his wife and kid and all.”

That was word vomit that she should not have shared. That is not information that she should just give out, and yet here she is. Obviously, all of the blood hasn’t returned to her brain since her run. Hopefully it’ll all come back soon so she can stop looking like an idiot with a messed up past who shares too much at a breakfast.

“David Nolan, right?”

“Y-yeah. How do you know that?”

He shrugs his right shoulder before taking another forkful of eggs, chewing and smiling in a way that reminds her of that scene in Thor where Chris Hemsworth is in the diner and throws the mug down asking for another one. Why the hell did they dye his eyebrows and his beard in that movie? That was a mistake.

“Ariel, my manager, is super hands on with me. She’s talkative, like extremely, and she shares all kinds of information that I never need to know. So, I’ve heard a bunch of random shit that I literally never need to know about. David sends her a hell of a lot of emails that I get forwarded.”

“So, do you just know my entire life story then?”

“If you’re entire life story involves you liking pretzels and waffles, and being asked out by a jackass on live television, then yeah.”

She barks out a laugh, her lips curving upward, and reaches down to take a sip of her coffee. “I mean, that’s it. There’s nothing else to know about me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The smile on his lips fall into a straight line, his gaze intense, and he lifts the bill of his hat up before adjusting it back down. “Perhaps I would.”

“So, nosy,” she starts, still a little annoyed that he asked if she had a boyfriend and most definitely trying to lighten the conversation up again, “I’m going to be very self-indulgent and ask if you liked your segment. I want a more truthful answer than the one I got in the hallway.”

His lips curve up, pretty much taking up his entire face, and she can see the crinkle of his eyes as his long lashes land on his cheeks before opening back up to show his baby blues. Damn his eyes are blue. How is that even possible? Maybe they’re contacts or something.

No, that would be ridiculous.

“I freaking loved it. I mean, it was great. It was so simple, you know? You didn’t try to create some other angle, didn’t try to paint me as anything other than a normal guy. I really appreciate that. You have no idea,” he chuckles, reaching up to scratch beneath his ear. Is he nervous? Why the hell is he nervous? “I saw afterward, your cohost, he was a bit of a dick, wasn’t he? I know we talked about it a bit, but it seems like you just…well, it seems like the shit show is never ending for you.”

That is – that is not what she was expecting at all. She figured his apology was a one and done and that she’d never hear about it again.

“With my friends,” she starts, tapping her nail against the table, “I don’t mind. It’s funny. It’s something we can joke about, that I, myself, joke about, but when it happens in my professional life, it pisses me off. So many men have seen me as a joke in the past, have tried to tear me down that way, and it’s not something I like having to deal with now. I mean, it’s not like I can go off on them. That’s a great way for me to lose my job because I’m no longer,” she holds her fingers up and does air quotes, “likable.”

Killian lets out a low whistle as her heart hammers in her chest, her annoyance at this whole thing making her cheeks heat. It’s all so dumb, and really, she should hate him for it. She doesn’t though. She’s not always his biggest fan, but he apologized and obviously feels actual remorse. How was he supposed to know it would be like this?

And if she knows all of this to be true, why does she still get slightly irked by him sometimes?

Is that just because she’s so damn stubborn herself?

“Is there anything I can do to make it better for you? I mean, I put you into this situation. The very least I can do is try to get you out of it.”

“Nah, there’s nothing you can do more than treat me like a professional and go on as if you didn’t make an ass out of the both of us with millions of people watching.”

“I think I can do that. However I can’t promise not to keep making an ass out of myself though. My brother tells me it’s my natural state of being.”

“Your brother sounds like a smart man.”

“He likes to think so. His patients sure as hell hopes that he is.”

“I mean, I would hope so. Does he get to come to a lot of games?”

“He and Elsa and the girls try to make it to some of them, but it usually depends on if Liam is on call or if the game is too late, so it interferes with the girls’ bedtimes and school. But no matter what I always have a string of texts waiting for me afterwards.”

“They sound great. Your nieces are so cute. Like, adorable. When you posted that photo of the two of them wearing your jersey, my heart melted. That was cute, twenty-nine.”

“Twenty-nine?”

“Your number,” she says slowly, looking him over.

“Aye, I know. It’s just that I’m not used to being called that.”

“Oh, sorry.” She covers her mouth and takes a sip of her coffee. She’s never going to finish her food if they keep talking like this. “I call most of you guys by your numbers half the time. It’s faster, sometimes, for our stat-keepers. It’s a force of habit from back before the Yankees had names on their jerseys.”

“I like it,” he smiles. “You ever play any sports?”

“Nothing official. Why?”

“Just looking to see if you have a number I can call you, love.”

“Ooh, for a second I thought you were going to ask for my number, so that was a nice save.”

“Well, I mean, I could,” he shrugs, flashing that winning smile again.

“Not going to happen, twenty-nine.”

“Damn, I thought I’d stumbled myself into something. I guess that’s strike two for me.”

“Do you always speak in baseball puns?”

“Says the woman who made a joke about oral sex using a baseball pun.”

“Never claimed that I didn’t use them. I’m a fan of a good pun. If you can make it a clever innuendo, all the better.”

“I do love a good innuendo.”

“Yeah, I can tell with the whole tall, dark, and broody thing that you’ve got going on half the time before you whip out a smirk and do that thing with your eyebrows.”

“Why, Swan,” he sighs, waggling those damn eyebrows, “have you been watching me?”

“It’s literally my job.” He does his eyebrows again, and she flicks an apple chunk at him. “Shut it, twenty-nine.”

They sit in the booth and talk, the both of them going through two cups of coffee, before Killian gets a call that he needs to be on the bus to Minute Maid Park, which they both agree is an awful name for a stadium. It’s on the tip of her tongue to start naming off other awful names and major sponsors, but she doesn’t, holding that back as he gathers their plates and walks over to put them all in the bin, his mind seemingly having switched from casual conversation to baseball. She wonders how often he does something like that, just turning everything off to focus on his job.

She can do the same.

“So, Swan,” he sighs as they both walk toward the lobby, Killian to get on the bus and for her to walk toward the elevators, “you going to be around to interview me tonight when I walk off the field?”

“Only if my producer thinks that we need an interview from you.”

“Does this mean I need to play a damn good game?”

“Or a really bad one.”

“I’ll try for one of those.”

“Okay,” she laughs, backing away from him as she sees Scarlet and Fisher walk down into the lobby, “break a leg then.”

He raises a brow. “I’m not sure if that works in sports.”

“Guess you’ll be the first to try it out.”

Emma raises her hand to wave to him, before turning on her heel and walking toward the elevator, her mind trying to piece together all of the elements of her morning while her heart keeps beating like she’s still on the treadmill and not like she’s been sitting in a booth eating for the past two hours.

What the hell just happened?

When she gets back to her room, she quietly opens the door, not knowing if Ruby is awake or not yet, but as soon as she’s inside the room she sees Ruby sitting on the floor with her laptop in front of her with some kind of hair tutorial video on the screen. And whatever it is, Ruby is not succeeding at it, which is pretty much an impossibility with how good Ruby is with hair.

“What’d you do? Run to Manhattan and back? You’ve been gone for forever.”

Putting her phone and hotel key down on the dresser, she slides down onto the floor to sit with Ruby. Her legs are starting to ache, and she desperately needs a shower. She got a look at herself in the mirror in the elevator, and damn does she look rough.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Well, I woke up when you got up because you’re not quiet,” she huffs, tugging at her braid, “and then I woke up an hour ago. You’ve been gone for, like, three hours.”

“I spent a long time at the gym.” That’s not a lie, not really, but it’s not exactly the full truth. She’s not sure why she’s not being honest with Ruby, but it’s…it’s just what her brain has apparently decided on. That breakfast didn’t mean anything, right? So why would she hide it? Probably so no more jokes will be made about them. Yeah, that’s it. That has to be it. “And then I ate breakfast.”

“And you didn’t bring me anything?”

“Not supposed to take the food out of the restaurant area.”

“You could have stolen a banana.”

“Sorry?”

Ruby groans, twists her hair into another braid as the video ends, and then closes her laptop before looking at her, her eyes scanning over her outfit. “Let’s go get something from a café or something. What was that place we went to last time we were here?”

“Snooze, maybe?”

“Yes,” she hums, falling back against the floor before she very obviously remembers her slightly okay braided hair, “let’s go there.”

“I just ate, Rubes.”

“You can keep me company while I eat, and then we’ll go shopping before we have to come back and get ready for work.”

“Can I at least take a shower first?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t smell, so yeah.”

Emma reaches forward and slaps Ruby’s shoulder before getting up. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m your best friend.”

“Unfortunately.”

“No, very fortunately.”

“Will you do my hair for tonight’s game?” she asks as she strips out of her tank top, sweat having practically dried it to her skin.

“If you let me wear your turquoise pumps.”

“You were going to wear them anyways.”

“Semantics.” Ruby waves her away. “Go take a shower. I’m starving, and I will absolutely perish if I don’t have food in my stomach in the next hour.”