#// everything else must go!!! like a car dealer!!! and will be answered for the most part!!

[so2uv]

starting off strong. inbox clean up...

[clearlydiamondz]

Who Are You?

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

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

(Y/N) and Erik have known each other since they were kids, they have been fooling around with each for the past few years. After leaving her for months with no contact, he pops up with a not so settling surprise. 

Warnings: Blood, Cursing

(Y/M/F/N) : Your moms full name

(Y/D/F/N): Your dad’s full name

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

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

“It was a nice time seeing you again.” Sean said licking his lips at her as she smiled at him. This was the 4th date they been on, things starting to get a little more serious with him and honestly she was enjoying herself. It’s been five months since she broke up with Erik, and honestly she was enjoying herself. Sure, she missed him. Wondered where he went. She warned him the next time he up and left her, she would move on. She stood by her word.

“Thanks Sean, I really enjoyed myself.” she said biting her bottom lip. “Maybe next time we can have a little more fun.” she said stepping a little further towards him. She most definitely hit the jack pot with him. He owned two dealer ships out in L.A and two in Oakland. He was a gentlemen, kind, freaky. Didn’t leave her on read, it was like he was sent down from heaven.

“What kind of fun you tryna have lil mama?” he said gripping her waist and pulling him towards her as she giggled. “Lemme come in now, show you something real?” he said as she rolled her eyes pushing him away as he smacked his teeth.

“Boy I have work in the morning. I have to be at the office at like 8 in the morning.” she said as he shook his head.

“Yeah, I’ll let you get away with it this time but next time that ass is mine, you understand me?” he said biting her exposed shoulder as she moaned a bit.

“Yes sir.” she said. After they said their goodbyes, she walked inside the house with a huge grin on her face as she took off her heels.

“Who the fuck is that nigga?” she heard. Her head shot up, as she slowly turned around and saw Erik walking towards her with a glass of, assuming Crown Royal. His favorite drink. Next to Hennessey.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” she asked walking past him, His head turned towards her direction as she placed her purse on the kitchen counter. His eye twitched when he saw that she wasn’t excited to see him. 

“(Y/N), answer my fucking question. Who the fuck is-”

“He’s my boyfriend.” she snapped turning around looking at him. Erik busted out laughing, putting his hand out on the counter closing his eyes. 

“Yeah okay. I’m going to ask you again. Who the fuck is that bitch ass nigga, (Y/N)?” he snapped as (Y/N) rolled her eyes. 

“That’s my boyfriend, Erik.” she said taking off her heels. “You know, significant other. Lover. Someone I fuck on the regular.” she said looking at him dead in the eye. Erik soon saw that she was serious. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“As a heart attack. I don’t know what you expected. I warned you that this was going to happen. So you can kindly get the hell out.” she said pointing towards the front door. “And leave the key.” 

“You must have lost your mind.” he whispered. “(Y/N), I’m sorry that I left. Really. You know I can’t tell you where I go and-”

“And you know what? That’s fine. You don’t ever have to worry about telling me shit because I don’t want anything to do with you, or whatever the fuck you’re doing.” she snapped at him. “Just-Just leave. Now.” she said.

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” she said walking over to him pointing her finger into her chest. “You do it all the fucking time. Months on end. Well I’m putting my foot down. Maybe some other bitch can deal with it but I can’t.” she said to him, her nostrils flaring in anger.

“I understand. I really do but-”

“If you understood like you say you do, you would understand why I cut you loose and moved on. I played along with this for way too long and I need to look out for myself.” she said. Something that she said triggered something in him. 

“(Y/N), no offense but I have a lot of shit in my life personally. I have shit to do and you can’t know that. Yes, I be gone. For a long time. But what I do I can’t just, just say out and about because I-” he stopped himself before saying something. 

“Because you what?” she backed away crossing her arms over her chest. “Well I know damn well you’re not going to say because you don’t trust me because I’ve known you since we were kids.” she said shaking her head. She was hoping that he would contradict but he just sat there looking at her. 

“You really don’t trust me.” she said quietly, looking at him with so much defeat it almost broke him in half. “Get out, Erik. Or I’m calling the police.” 

“(Y/N) wait.”

“Erik! Just shut up! You don’t understand how hard and stressful it is not to hear or speak to you, thinking that you moved on with someone else, or hurt or even worse! That shit took so much of my mental state that I couldn’t eat or sleep. You don’t understand! You think that you can come up in here, dick me down, buy me some shit and tell me what I want to hear and all will be well but no. I can’t do it anymore. And if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what the fuck you have going on then I don’t want nothing to do with you or whatever the fuck you have going on!” she yelled at him. 

“(Y/N), listen to me.” he said grabbing her hands. “Look, I know what I do to you ain’t right. You don’t have to tell me because I already know it’s true. There are so many things that I want to tell you  but I can’t.” he said as she looked down sighing. 

“I can’t, do this.” she let his hands go. “Just go, please.” she said, tears rushing down her face. 

“(Y/N) please. I-”

“No Erik. Just go.” 

He gave her one last look before walking out.

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

“Good morning everyone!” she exclaimed to her staff. “So as you all know, I will be opening a store in Miami. That means that I’m going to need a manager there to run the store. So I am sending out an email, you can apply and we’ll go from there.” she announced to everyone. Chatter spread through out the room, as she made her way to her office. 

“Hey, so I sent out the invoice about inventory check list. They should be emailing it to you by the end of the week.” her assistant Tonya said. 

“Thanks.” She walked into her office going to her desk and opening up her Desktop. 

“Also, Erik came by this morning.” she said as her hands clenched into a fist. “He said to call him when you get the chance.” she said as she rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah right.” she laughed to herself before opening her email. 

“Everything alright? It’s been a while since he stopped by the office.” she said as (Y/N) looked up at her. 

“That’s because I haven’t seen him since June.” (Y/N) told her. “No text, no call, no nothing.” she snapped. 

“Jesus, that’s five months...” she trailed off as she nodded. 

“He came to my house last night when Sean dropped me off. Questioning me about Sean and shit. Like nigga you have no room to be questioning me, questioning me in my house at that.” she scoffed, hearing her phone ding to see it was Sean texting her. 

“Forreal? The audacity.” she chuckled sitting on the seats that sat in front of the desk. 

Sean: Hey, you free for lunch this afternoon? I know you said you wanted to try out that new BBQ place on 21st street...

She smiled at the text before texting him back. 

(Y/N): Yeah, I’ll meet you there around 1:00?

Sean: Sure thing beautiful.

“Anyways.” she closed her phone placing it on the desk. “Erik came by the house last night, telling me he couldn’t tell me because he didn’t trust me. A-And that he wanted to tell me but he couldn’t tell me. Like what am I suppose to think about that? It makes him looks sneaky.” she admitted as Erik nodded. 

“Have you ever thought about him being like a... you know. Drug Lord? Or like, a gang member or something?” he said as (Y/N) paused, than laughed. 

“A drug dealer? That’s a good one. I’ve known Erik my entire life and trust me, I would’ve noticed if he was hiding something like that from me.” she said shaking her head. 

“I mean- think about it? Do you know what he does? Like, career wise. Nigga be driving the newest cars, dripped down in designers, spoiling you with money and shit and you haven’t even thought about it just once.” she said as (Y/N) sat back in her chair. 

“I mean, it’s crossed my mind but like I said, it’s just so far from what I know.” she said as Tonya stood up. 

“Well, just a thought to think about. I’m going to go down to customer service and get their weekly review.” she said as she nodded.

There is no way that he could be a drug dealer...

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

(Y/N) walked into the restaurant, looking around and seeing Sean sitting there looking at the menu. She walked over to him as he saw her, smiling at her. “Look at you, you look good.” he smirked standing up as she smiled. She gave him a hug, and pecked his lips as she smiled. 

“Thank you, same to you. Sorry I was late, my last meeting with a little longer than I wanted too.” she said sitting down on the other side of the booth. 

“No worries, I ordered you a sweet tea with a slice of lemon.” he said to her as she smiled at him. 

“Thank you.” he nodded closing the menu. 

“There is something that I actually wanted to tell you.” he said as she nodded. “Someone reached out to me, by the name of... Killmonger? Said that he knew you.” he said as she tilted her head to the side.

“Killmonger...” she trailed off before shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of them before.” she said as he nodded sitting in his back. 

“Really?’

“Nope.” she said shaking her head. “That’s a cool name though..” she trailed off looking at her own menu. 

“That’s interesting.. because he said you were his ex.” he said as she put the menu down on the table looking at him. “He knew a lot of things about you, that you lived on South Viker Elm,  what cars you drive, your full name...” he trailed off as she looked up at him, scared to death. 

“What the fuck..” she whispered. 

“You sure you don’t know who that is? Because I’m having a hard time believing you.” he said to her leaning forward as she thought about it before her eye twitched.

“What did he say?”

“He knew your mom name was (Y/M/F/N) and your dad’s name is (Y/D/F/N),  you were born in (H/C).” she was freaked out until she realized it was most likely Erik. “Hell I didn’t even know you’re parents name was-”

“Actually, I might have an idea. We aren’t really exes. Just.. just someone that I used to mess around with. He left me a couple of months ago.” she said to him. 

“Oh.. it’s that dude.” he said as she nodded. 

“Yeah. I swear I don’t mean to put you through this. He came by the house last night and we got into an argument, but that’s about it. I have no idea how he got your number.” she said as he chuckled. 

“He didn’t only know my number. He knew my name too.” he said looking at her.

“Sean, I swear. I don’t know how the hell he got that information. I would never do that to you. Did he threaten you?” she asked him as he chuckled.  

“Something along that line.” he said taking his drink to his lips. “But don’t worry about that, I handled myself. I just want you to know that ya little ex-fling is tryna check me and that just don’t sit right with me.” he said as she sighed closing her temples. 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I’m just fucking with you ma.” he said as she threw a napkin at him as he laughed. “But I’m serious about the ex thing.”

“Don’t worry, I got something for him.” 

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

She walked into the building, to not only be surprised to see Erik reading one of the magazines that was in the waiting area. ‘(Y/N) can we-”

“You. In my office, Now!” she exclaimed quietly. He looked shocked about her outburst, confused she followed her instructions. She put the stuff on the table before looking at him. 

“The fuck is wrong with you!?” she yelled at him as he stared at her. 

“There are a lot of things wrong with me. For starters-”

“Erik, I’m serious. Why the fuck are you calling him threatening him?” she asked as he still stared at her confused. 

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Sean! He told me you called him using this name Killmonger, a-and that you were telling him shit about me?” she snapped. “Now I don’t know what the fuck you have going on but leave me and him alone.” she said pointing a finger at him. 

It felt like his entire heart stopped. “(Y/N), I swear on my mother I didn’t call no one. What’s his name?”

“Are you seriously going to sit there and play stupid?” she laughed shaking her head. “Erik he knew my mom and dads name! The only person in my life who knows that is you!” she exclaimed. 

“Fuck!” 

“(Y/N), listen. You can be mad at me for whatever reason. I don’t care about that right now? Tell me what his name is?” he said walking over to her. If there was something about (Y/N), she knew when Erik was in distress. Or scared. The look on his face showed nothing but pure fear. 

“Erik, what is it that you’re not telling me?” she asked him. It looked as if he was in deep thought about something, something in which had his mind racing. Like he was debating. “Erik, please talk to me. Be honest. I need to know because if it’s not you someone out there knows shit about me and I need to get that shit dealt with. ASAP.” she said as Erik looked at the door biting him lip. 

“Lock the door.” he said as she nodded. She walked to the door locking it before walking back to him.

“The reason why I go out for months at end isn’t because I’m cheating on you, or I’m hiding from you. I get paid.. to do things. Bad things to people.” he said as she backed up a little. 

“Do what?” she asked him as he sighed. 

“People pay me to handle their dirty work. They pay me to top people off.” she stared at him in complete shock. “Look, it’s not just random people. It’s people that do bad things.” he said as she looked at him. “So all this time, I’ve been fucking a murderer.” she said as he groaned rubbing his handsome his face. 

“It’s not like that I swear, it’s just- you know my background. I was good in the military and now I’m good and it pays good.” he said as she scoffed. 

“Yeah it pays good until you mess with the wrong people. Erik, some dude name Killmonger got ahold of my shit and-” 

“Killmonger is me. That’s what I’m called.” he said as she scoffed. 

“So you did call Sean, right? Wow-”

“No, can you shut up? Let me talk.” he said to her. She was taken back by the outburst but he continued. “Whoever that is knows about me, and knows enough about me to get to you. This dude you been messing with, knows too much information (Y/N).” he said stepping in front of her. 

“You need to trust me, I need to know everything. I really don’t give a fuck if you’re mad at me or you never want to see me again. I just need to know you are safe.”  he told her. She was scared shitless out of her mind. There was so much on her mind at the moment that she couldn’t quite gasp the fact that someone was out to get her. Never mind Erik being an assassin. 

“(Y/N), look at me.” he grabbed her chin to make him look at me. “Please, you need to trust me.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie about that if he knew I was going to confront you about it..” she trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Maybe to throw it in my face...” he said as he looked at her. “But I gotta plan for his ass.”

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

“Come in.” She smiled at Sean grabbing his hand. He looked her up and down licking his lips. 

“All this for  me..” he whispered looking at her. It was a new set she bought a couple of weeks ago, it was emerald green with rhinestones along the bands, her hair was in a slick back bun, her makeup was perfectly done. 

“Yup. I told you I wanted to have a little fun.” she whispered starting to unbutton his shirt. 

“Sheesh, you ain’t gotta tell me.” he said as she smirked at him. She grabbed his hand leading him to the spare room as he stared at her ass the entire time. “You got in touch with that nigga yet?”

“Killmonger?” she asked tilting her head. 

“Yeah.. him.” he said rolling his eyes as she chuckled. 

“No. Not yet. I tried to but he ain’t answering my phone calls.” she said as she pushed him on the chair that she had in the room. “But let’s not worry about him... I want my focus all. On. You.” she said pecking his chest. She got on her knees in front of him.

“Oh you a nasty lil bitch ain’t you...” he smirked at her as she smirked back at him. She grabbed the handcuffs as he looked at it laughing. “Oh shit..” he whispered. (Y/N) handcuffed him to the chair. That’s when she saw Erik come out of the closet, putting the pistol to his head. 

“So your Sean.” he said as (Y/N) stood up. She grabbed her black robe slipping it over her body as she looked at Sean, Sean giving her the dirtiest glare. 

“You been working with this nigga the entire time?”

“Actually no. She cussed me out thinking I called yo bitch ass.” Erik said. “But don’t worry about my girl. Worry-”

“Um, I’m not your girl.” (Y/N) cut in as Erik looked at her. “What? You think you can just say that shit after everything. No.. hell no.” she said looking back at Sean shaking her hand. “I don’t want a relationship with no one.. at all.” she said. 

“We’ll talk about that. You.” he said looking back at Sean. “Talk.” 

“Man fuck you, ain’t saying-” Erik punched him in the nose, knocking the chair over as she gasped. 

“Erik chill!” she yelled as he turned to look at her. “That chair was hella expensive. You think I want his blood all over my shit.” 

“Bruh, I’ll buy you another one.”

She rolled her eyes sitting on the bed. Erik sat the chair back up. “Talk nigga.” 

“You remember Kingston?” he said as Erik nodded. “That was my brother.”

“Kingston don’t have no brother named Sean.”

“No shit dumbass. You think I’ma use my real name fucking with y’all. I wanted you dead. And it seems like the only family you got is her.” he said nodding his head towards (Y/N). “By the way, (Y/N), at first it was just a get up to get to him but I really do like-” And another punch sent to his face. 

“You really think you can just sit up here and confess your feelings to her in my face nigga!” he yelled at him as he coughed up blood. All over her floor. 

“Who is Kingston?” (Y/N) asked Erik as Erik sighed. 

“A target. He was trafficking girls in Uganda. One of the girls died and the mother offered to pay me a good 10 Thousand to get his ass. Guess what?” Erik said lifting that nigga off the floor. 

“I did that shit for free.” he laughed in front of Sean or whatever his name was.

“You get paid that much?” she asked as Erik laughed. 

“Nah, that’s probably one of the lowest bids I’ve gotten. The highest I’ve had was like... 10 Million plus an extra 2  million if I could get the target and his crew.” he said as she looked at him in shock. 

“Anyways, just know that I killed that bitch ass nigga with no price.” he said. “Like I’m gonna do you.” he said taking off the safety on his pistol making her flinch.

She was scared out of her mind to see him like this. Was he really about to kill him in her house? All that blood and-

BANG!

She looked to see Sean's body lumped over in the chair as she stared at him in shock. “Well we don’t have to worry about that nigga no more.” he said putting the gun in his waist band. “I know some people who’ll come and clean this up. Make it look like someone was never killed here before.” he chuckled. He noticed she wasn’t saying anything before looking at her as she stared at the dead body in horror. 

“Oh fuck. I should’ve done this without you in the room..” he trailed off. “Let’s go.” he said grabbing her as he took her to her room. 

Erik saw this look before. He knew what was happening. She was going to be scared of him. “You want me to run you a bath?” he asked her as she looked outside the window. 

He went to her bathroom, filling the bathtub with bubbles and water. After setting it up he walked to the room to see in her in the same position. He took her undergarments' off before carrying her to the bathtub and placing her in. He bathed her as she stood at the wall. 

“(Y/N), baby. Look at me.” They heard the people coming in making her jump as he grabbed her. “(Y/N), it’s just the people here to clean up the mess.” he comforted her as she relaxed some more. He grabbed her make up towel, putting on some of the makeup removal solution she has and rubber the makeup off her face. 

About an hour later, she was in the bed as Erik was out in the hallway talking to the people. “Aye, thanks man. I owe you.” he heard Erik say. 

“No worries. We gonna cremate the body and throw the ashes somewhere along the river downtown. So don’t worry about it, okay?” he heard a voice say. After a few more minutes before he came back into the room, as she laid in the bed. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go. I’ma give you some space.” she heard him say. She sat up before looking at him. 

“Can you, can you stay please?” she asked him as he nodded. He stripped from his clothes getting into the bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer, tracing her arms. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her. 

“No.. I don’t.” 

“Fair enough.”

[uvobreakmylegs]

The Graveyard

Vampire!Hisoka

🎃~Happy Halloween~🎃

Warnings: violence, gore, kidnapping, threats of noncon

The Nostrade cemetery sat a few miles beyond your hometown of Milsy, tucked in between the trees of a vast forest that had stood there for ages. The cemetery itself had been there almost as long, and was consequently the subject of gossip and tales of the supernatural. Every child that was born in Milsy had it drilled into them at an early age that they were never to approach the old graveyard or the woods beyond it.

The older folk claimed it was a gateway to hell.

You had your doubts that there was anything out of the ordinary about the cemetery, however. The rumors circulated in your town calling the graveyard cursed and that all manner of creatures roamed around it at night, but exactly what kind of creatures changed depending on who you spoke to, though the most consistent one was stories of ghosts and other restless spirits who were trapped on the cursed spot of land. But asking questions on how it became cursed didn't get you much in the way of answers. Even the middle-aged women who had nothing better to do than gossip had little to say when you asked. The closest thing you had gotten resembling an explanation came from an old man at the retirement home who had told you that something 'unholy' had happened there, long before he was even born, and that since then, evil had been attracted to the place. His explanation shortly turned into a rant about how it was the cause of everything wrong in the town; from the mysterious illnesses that occasionally plagued the people living there, the claims wild beasts that roamed the forests that only ate human flesh, to the disappearances in the town where typically teens and sometimes children vanished without a trace.

One of the nurses at the retirement home had escorted you out after the old man's rant and asked that you not come back if you only intended on upsetting their patients.

It was hard to believe that a graveyard could be the cause of an occasional illness that went around, but you couldn't blame the man for thinking the disappearances were related to the area. All of the witnesses to the missing children saw them last near that cemetery. Same thing with the the teens. Anyone else who had gone missing just vanished one day with no warning. And based off of what you had heard, you suspected that they had the same interests as you in wanting to find out what made that graveyard so special.

Your family was aware of your curiosity and tried to keep you on a tight leash, keeping your days busy and trying to keep the thought of visiting the cemetery out of your mind. As hard as they had tried, you had still found your opportunity and slipped away. Maybe going to an abandoned, likely falling-apart graveyard probably wasn't the smartest thing you had ever done, but there were probably dumber things you could have done instead of that, and you swore to yourself that if you just went there once and just see the damn place, you could put the matter to rest in your own mind.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky as you entered through the rusted gateway, still a long way off from nightfall. Though you told yourself to not believe in such things, it gave you some comfort that it wasn't dark out. Every ghost and monster story you had ever heard always took place at night. If there was something otherworldly in the graveyard, it seemed unlikely that it would come out in the middle of the day.

All in all, you would say that you were underwhelmed. The abandoned Nostrade cemetery appeared to be just that: an abandoned cemetery. Within the confines of the stone walls, there were graves and headstones as far as you could see, with an occasional mausoleum that obscured parts of the vast graveyard. There were large portions that were overgrown as trees, bushes and other plant life covered the slabs of stone, turning the gray rock various shades of green. You approached one of the headstones, kneeling down to inspect it and see what had been carved into it. Unfortunately, all you could learn from that particular bit of rock was that it was old, as the weathered stone had been battered by time and the elements to the point that it was impossible to read anything off of it. As you made your way further into the cemetery, you found that to be true of all of the graves you came across. Though you had anticipated that to be the case, given that there was no one to take care of the place, you had hoped you could learn at least a little about the people who had been buried there. The most you were able to make out from a few was just the image of a skull with wings that adorned the tops of the headstones.

And as you went deeper still into the graveyard, no matter where you looked, there was still no sign of any ghost or ghoul that the people in town were convinced inhabited every corner of the ancient site.

Part of you told yourself that it was time to head back now. You had accomplished what you had come here for: you had seen the graveyard, and proved to yourself that the multitude of stories that were passed around were just stories told to scare children and keep them out. You could be content with knowing that there was nothing mystical about it and get on with your life.

But you didn't want to leave yet.

For whatever reason, you felt compelled to explore more of it, to see how far it went. The size of it confused you, as it was larger than you had expected, and you wondered how many generations of families were buried beneath your feet for so many graves to litter the area in the way they did.

'I'll leave after I see the back wall,' you told yourself. That way you would have explored at least a majority of the graveyard, as well as see if there was anything different at the back, maybe an ancient tool shed of some kind for the long-dead caretakers.

There was nothing of the sort when you saw that wall come into view. Walking around a crumbling mausoleum, your eyes scanned the wall and the foliage that covered it. There was quite a bit more plant life this side of the cemetery, the graves near the wall all but overtaken by vines and flowers you didn't recognize. A tall tree towards the back, and on closer inspection, you noticed that behind the tree a bit of the wall had collapsed, allowing you a view into the dense forest beyond the walls. Considering the amount of time that the cemetery had been standing here abandoned, it was a miracle that more parts of it weren't like that; that the majority of the structures within the walls were standing upright instead of crumbling and broken.

You glanced to your right, wondering if there were any more parts of the graveyard that were more dilapidated like the hole in the wall before you.

“And what might a little fruit like yourself be looking for in here?”

You jumped at the sound of a voice behind you, your heart racing as you turned around to see who had spoken.

A man sat behind the mausoleum you had passed by, sitting cross-legged on a raised stone casket. He was dressed strangely, with card symbols on the front and back of his shirt and black heels on his feet. His hair was a vibrant red, and when he glanced over to you, yellow eyes looked you over.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. He then turned head towards you, smiling with his eyes closed.

“Well?” he asked, his tone cheerful.

“Uh.... Nothing, really?” you stuttered out, “I just wanted to look.”

“Ah, sightseeing, then?”

“I guess.”

He wore makeup as well, a star and a teardrop adorning his right and left cheeks respectively.

“And have the sights this cemetery has to offer been satisfactory to you?” he asked, turning his attention back to what was in front of him: a pyramid made out of playing cards. He held a card in each hand, carefully moving them to the top.

“For a cemetery, I guess it has,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

He hummed, placing the last two cards on the pyramid and carefully pulling his hands away.

“You must have gone out of your way to come here, and yet you don't seem like you care much for this place. Why is that?” he asked, turning to look at you again.

“Everyone in town freaks out over this cemetery, saying that it's cursed. I wanted to see if that was true,” you answered, placing your hands on your hips as you looked around once more, “it seems like a normal graveyard to me.”

“Oh? So just because you don't see anything wrong with it means that it must be normal?”

“I mean, if it wasn't normal, would you be hanging out here?”

The man smiled and chuckled to himself.

“Fair enough,” he said. He then motioned to the spot before him.

“Sit with me.”

You huffed, but obliged as you walked towards him. While he definitely seemed strange, you didn't get any sort of feeling that he was dangerous. Just a harmless weirdo who hung out in graveyards playing with cards.

…. Saying that in your head like that didn't make it sound like he was harmless. But for now you decided to go along with it. If worse came to worse, you were certain you could outrun him.

“What's your name?” you asked as you pulled yourself up onto the casket, copying him in sitting with your legs crossed.

“Hisoka. And yours?”

You responded with your own name as you settled yourself. The old stone didn't make for a good seat, and you squirmed a bit as you tried to make yourself comfortable. Hisoka watched with amusement, his eyes taking in your form as you looked back to him.

“Would you like to try?” he asked, pointing to the tower of cards before him.

You shrugged.

“Okay.”

With a single finger, he knocked over the structure, sending the cards toppling down.

“I've never tried making one before, though,” you added.

“That's fine. I can show you. Watch,” Hisoka said, gathering the cards together.

He put the cards in a stack, and with a practiced ease, he passed them from one hand to the other in the same way a professional dealer would. He then set about making the base, setting up two cards together so they formed a small triangle. A second set of cards joined them, and then a third.

“.... So do you just come here to play around with cards?” you asked after the sixth card triangle had been placed.

“Sometimes,” he said, laying several cards over the ones he had set up, creating the base for the next row.

“Doesn't that get boring?”

“Not really. I've met many interesting people through my visits here.”

“Like who?”

Hisoka paused as he began setting up the next row, looking at you with a grin.

“..... Me?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.

He nodded at you, smiling.

“That's stupid,” you muttered.

“And why's that?”

“We just met and we're playing with cards. You can't call me an 'interesting person' just for that.”

“The fact that you're here at all is what interests me,” he said, placing another set of cards.

“You said that the people in your town dislike this place, and despite all you seemed to have heard you came here anyway. And it appears to have been all for your own satisfaction.”

He hummed to himself as he placed down another layer of cards on top, the second row complete.

“Does it not matter to you that people have gone missing around this area?” he asked.

“It's been over two years since someone last went missing, and they caught the guy who did it,” you said.

“Oh? They found out who took that young man?” Hisoka's eyebrows went up slightly.

“Yeah. It was some guy in the next town over. Serial killer, among other things.”

“And they confirmed that he was the one responsible?”

“Technically, no. But there's a lot of people who went missing while he was running lose, and he isn't telling the police where the bodies are. So it's a pretty good chance that he's the one who did it. It's not like there are any other suspects.”

“I see.”

Hisoka was smiling, and you swore he was holding back laughter.

“You think it's stupid that I came out here?” you stated more than asked.

“I would say that you're a bit more brave than the others in that town of yours. That, or you just have a poor sense of self-preservation,” he said. The third row was now done.

“Tell me, do you plan on telling people about your visit here?”

“If I did that my family would lock me in the house for a whole year,” you scoffed, “you said it yourself earlier; it's for my own satisfaction.”

Hisoka's smile had widened. To you, it seemed like it was slightly too wide. Like the edges of his mouth went further than they should have. You caught a flash of his teeth as well, and noted that something about them seemed off. Like they were somehow sharper than they should have been.

“That's rather selfish of you, isn't it?”

His words broke your train of thought.

“How so?” you asked. The last set of cards of the fourth row was being placed.

“You came here without telling anyone despite knowing that there's a possible danger. What would happen if you injured yourself and you couldn't get back? No one would know where you were, and in a worst case scenario, you could die before any search parties find you. If they were to find you at all.

“You really didn't think about anyone but yourself when you came out here, did you?”

“.... Well that's one way to make me feel guilty,” you mumbled, “but I don't plan on dying in a place like this,” you added with a bit more confidence.

“You'll survive through sheer force of will alone?” Hisoka prodded.

“Something like that,” you huffed.

Hisoka was chuckling again, looking back at you with amusement. He'd gotten to the fifth row of cards, leaving only the very top of it left. With the last two cards in hand, he repeated what you had seen him doing before and placed the cards at the top of the pyramid, pulling his hands away slowly and spreading his arms open with a slight flair.

“See? Easy,” he said.

“There's no way I can do that as fast as you can.”

“You'll never know unless you try.”

Just like before, he knocked over the tower with the tap of a finger, the cards fluttering down onto the stone below them. This time he made no move to collect them, and he leaned back on his palms as he looked at you expectantly. Taking the hint, you gathered up the cards, sticking them into a semi-neat pile before grabbing two and copying what you had seen him do.

Or you tried to, at least. It took you several tries before you could get the cards to stand upright, and when you grabbed two more, you accidentally brushed against the two you had just set up and sent them falling.

A beat of silence passed as both of you looked at your fallen cards.

“We're going to be here a while,” you mumbled.

“Fine by me. I didn't have any plans,” said Hisoka. It was like that smile never left his face.

Many more tries were made with similar results, and it didn't take long for you to become frustrated to the point that you were tempted to give up. But a look at Hisoka's face made you reconsider throwing in the towel. He was clearly enjoying your failures and how irritated you were becoming by them. He wanted you to give up. The smug look on his face pushed you to keep trying, unwilling to give him that satisfaction.

After a bit, you realized that you could cheat slightly with the first row. The surface of the stone casket you sat on was rough with many grooves and bumps that provided a bit of support that at least ensured that they wouldn't fall instantly. After some careful positioning you were finally able to get a row of six. If he disapproved of the tactic he didn't mention it. You copied what you had seen him do earlier, grabbing what would be the base of the second row and gently dropping them on top, holding your breath each time.

Neither of you had said anything during this time, and while he seemed content just to watch, the silence was starting to get to you.

“So have you been to Milsy?” you asked.

“Yes. I frequently find myself there,” he said.

“Do dress differently when you visit? I feel like I would have heard something about you before today. The older women there live off of gossip.”

Hisoka shook his head.

“I don't need a disguise, if that's what you're asking. I only let people see me if I want to be seen.”

“Hmm.”

The answer didn't tell you much of anything. You decided against asking what he meant by 'letting' people see him as he would likely only give you more cryptic replies.

You grabbed two cards, trying to place them as carefully as possible on top of the ones you had stacked so far to start the second row.

“So do you live near this area? In another town nearby, or are you some kind of hermit?”

“I'm a magician,” Hisoka said.

“Magician? So you do magic tricks?”

“Yes.”

“... Can you show me?”

“I could,” he drawled, tilting his head, “but it would be boring if I just did that for you without anything in return.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“That we could make this a little more interesting! How about I'll show you a trick or two if you can successfully make a card tower?” he asked.

It sounded reasonable enough, so you nodded.

“Oka- Fuck!”

You weren't paying attention and had set the cards down too forcefully, causing the cards beneath to fall under the pressure.

“Ah, too bad!” Hisoka teased, “going to try again?”

“Of course,” you said, already gathering up the scattered cards.

Remembering your cheat, you were able to set up the base cards a little more quickly this time as you began the process again and built your way back up. Trying to rush through it ended with you being punished when your tower fell once again when you reached the same point as the last time. Hisoka continued to smile while you cursed and began again.

You tried asking more questions about him, but the answers you were getting stayed cryptic. Hisoka was born “somewhere” and had lived in the area for “a long time”. He had no friends or family but said that he had “acquaintances” that could “work in those roles” if he so needed. He also claimed that he had traveled quite a bit but wouldn't say where exactly, saying that you wouldn't know the places he was talking about.

“I'm starting to think you're trying to get me to leave, Hisoka,” you said, hissing as your tower fell for the umpteenth time.

“And why do you think that?”

“You've been doing everything to avoid actually giving me a straight answer to any of my questions.”

Beginning again, you glanced back up at him, not surprised to see that smile still on his face.

“You're not wrong,” he said, shrugging, “however, I think if I told you the truth you would still be upset.”

“Why?”

“Because you would still think I was lying.”

You sighed.

“You're impossible to deal with.”

“So I'm told.”

Setting up the bottom row of cards had become somewhat easier now, and by this point you had managed to make it up to the third row. A small breeze came through and you froze, hands going around the cards protectively as if you could shield them. Luckily, the cards stayed in place.

“I don't actually want you to give up and leave,” Hisoka said, leaning forward with his chin resting in his hand.

“After watching you for this long, I want nothing more than for you to succeed. I would hate it if you gave up now.”

“If you say so.”

You weren't at all trying to hide your tone, broadcasting that you still weren't convinced.

Hisoka sat quietly as he watched your tower grow once again, taking in your expression.

“How about along with a few tricks, I give you something good if you complete it?” he asked suddenly.

“I don't know. Do I actually want anything from you?”

“I think you might. Complete the house of cards, and I promise it'll be worth your while,” he said, “you just promise me that you won't give up.”

You sighed once again.

“I've wasted so much time now, I'm not letting that all be for nothing.”

“That's the spirit!” Hisoka encouraged.

With your focus on the cards that you continually built up over and over again, you didn't notice the way the sun slipped lower into the sky as time moved forward. Though sunset was still far away, certain lesser things within the cemetery and the surrounding woods were waking up and found themselves drawn to your scent, multiple sets of eyes peeking over and around the old stone to look at the human who had wandered in. You didn't notice any of them, nor did you notice the warning glances Hisoka sent to all of the beings that approached. The smile stayed on his face the whole time, daring them to try something.

No attempts were made on your life; they knew better.

“Is this going to be the one?” Hisoka asked.

“Shut up.”

Hisoka chuckled, amused at how hard you were concentrating. You had finally made it to the fifth layer of the pyramid, four cards leaning against each other at the top. You held a card horizontally above them, preparing to place it. If you got this one, then all you would need to worry about was the last two cards to finish it, and then you would finally be done with this and be able to laugh in Hisoka's face. You were aware of how stupid and petty this whole thing had become, but after all of that effort, you refused to let it be for nothing.

The card was in place and you pulled away, releasing a small sigh of relief when the cards stayed standing. Without taking your eyes off of the pyramid you grabbed the last two, ever so slowly bringing them up to face each other in what was now a well practiced motion. You positioned them on top, placing them so that the top edges leaned on each other to create the point, and slowly, slowly pulled your hands away, mirroring the way Hisoka had done it earlier.

“I did it,” you breathed, amazed with yourself. Despite how you had told yourself that you weren't going to leave before doing it, you hadn't actually been sure that you could pull off the trick, your original motivations of wanting to prove Hisoka wrong long forgotten. It was such a meaningless achievement and had taken more time to complete than it was worth, but you had done it, and you couldn't help the pride you felt when you looked up to Hisoka who was politely applauding for you.

“Very well done,” said Hisoka.

And with one flick of his index finger he sent the cards toppling down.

Your satisfaction turned to shock as you watched the result of all your effort fall back down to the rough surface of the stone. All that time you spent, and it only stood for a few measly seconds.

“..... I want to punch you.”

“Now now, don't be like that,” the magician laughed as he gathered up the cards, “you won, after all.”

You glared at him as he flashed you another smile, and you caught it again: something that was just off with his teeth.

“Now, I promised to show you some tricks, correct?”

His voice brought you back to what he was doing as he divided the stack into two, holding the stacks in both hands. He then brought his hands together with a clap. When he pulled them away, the cards were gone.

…... A sleight of hand. That was his trick.

“I'm going to punch you.”

“But it was a trick, like you asked for!” he gasped, feigning shock at your irritation.

You put your head in your hands. This time had been so thoroughly wasted on this asshole.

“If it really doesn't satisfy you, I can show you some others. But first! I'll keep my other promise.”

Lifting your head back up slightly to look through your fingers, you saw Hisoka as he hopped off the casket and extended a hand towards you.

“.... Something 'good'? Do you want to elaborate on what that is?” you asked.

“All in good time; I want to take you somewhere first.”

“Take me where?” you questioned as he continued to beckon you into taking his hand.

“It's a surprise~”

When you didn't reach out to take his hand, he gave you another grin - what was wrong with his teeth? - and grabbed you by your wrist.

His hand was large enough that it circled around your wrist completely, and his nails long and sharp enough that they lightly nicked your skin as he pulled you off of the stone and led you through the cemetery. Hisoka weaved through the headstones and plants while you trailed behind. Normally you would have protested someone grabbing you and leading you along like this, but you were caught off-guard by how cold his skin was. Like a person who had been left out in freezing temperatures, Hisoka's skin virtually sapped the heat away from yours in his iron grip. It didn't make sense given how mild the weather was at the moment, and the two of you had been out there for so long; how could his skin feel so cold when you were just fine?

“Hisoka, are you sick?”

He tilted his head back as he smiled at you.

“I've never felt better.”

The two of you made your way to the hole in the cemetery's wall, climbing up the exposed roots of the tree that stood in front of it before stepping over the crumbled rock and out into the vast expanse of the forest. He continued to lead you forward, dodging your questions of where he was taking you with the same claim of it being a “surprise” and that you would “find out soon”, while his faster pace required you to trot behind him while you tripped over the forest floor. His hand remained in place around your wrist, never letting you fall and pulling you closer to him when you began to fall too far behind.

It now dawned on you how much time you had spent out here. People in the town would have noticed your absence, and for those that knew you well, it wouldn't take much for them to figure out where you had gone. You were screwed, and the only thing you could do to try and make this better was to get back before sunset.

“Hisoka,” you tried, “I just realized I've been gone for too long. I really need to get back home.”

“Don't worry; I'll take you home.”

Worries about this man that you had pushed away earlier were now coming back, and you mentally berated yourself for even speaking to him. You should have left the instant you saw him. Instead you spent, what, hours with him? With a man who thought that fun was hanging out in graveyards and playing with cards over buried bodies. You had idiotically thought he was harmless, and now you were being dragged by this man through the woods, further and further away from the cemetery and any familiar landmarks that would lead you back home while you fought against the grip on your wrist that didn't budge in the slightest no matter how you pulled against it. Your pleas to know where you were going and for him to let go became increasingly desperate but appeared to fall onto deaf ears as Hisoka pressed onward.

“Hisoka, please stop and tell me what you're doing!” you yelled, exasperated.

To your surprise, he abruptly stopped in his tracks and you to almost ran into him. You took the chance to catch your breath, looking back up at the magician. He wasn't looking at you, still facing forward.

“.... Hisoka?”

A long, low moan sounded from the man, and he turned towards you as he ran a hand through his hair, tongue licking his lips and his eyes brimming with lust.

“Your little heart is beating so fast and it's making me so excited~” he breathed, pulling your wrist up to his face and nuzzling against it. A chill ran down your spine and you tried again to pull back your hand. But just as before he didn't budge.

“Let go of me,” you whispered.

“That would be a bad idea, little fruit. There are lots of things in this forest that would love to have a piece of you, but as long as you're with me, you're safe.”

“I don't feel safe.”

Hisoka smiled against your skin, his other hand reaching to grip the back of your head. All the while his eyes never left yours.

“Would you believe that you're the first person to ever finish making a card house for me? In all of the years I've been here, every other person gave up and tried to leave,” he said.

“.... I can't say I blame them. I should have given up, too,” you mumbled.

“That would have been very bad for you, dear,” he continued, his lips only a breath away from the skin of your wrist.

“And why's that?”

“Because I would have killed you.”

Despite the gravity of his words, Hisoka said them with a certain air of nonchalance, all while he kept your wrist up near his face, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as his eyes gauged your reaction.

You didn't know what to say or how to react. The alarm bells in your head were blaring and you wanted to tear yourself away from his grip and escape this situation. But the longer you spent in his presence, a sick feeling rose within you that you wouldn't be getting away from this man.

“.... That's a sick joke, Hisoka.”

“I said earlier that if I told you the truth, you would think I was lying, didn't I? If I had been completely truthful, you would have been scared off and I would have needed to kill you. It's a little rule I made for myself,” he explained, “just killing anyone who wandered in became a bit boring, so I thought it would be more fun to give people a chance to save themselves by playing my game. But as I said, you're the only one who stuck through it. And I have to say, I couldn't be happier that the first person was you. Some of these people I simply-”

“Let go of me!”

Your yell interrupted his speech while you once again pulled against his hold on you, your other arm pushing against the one that held you by the head. His words sent a rush of adrenaline through you and you twisted and pulled to free your wrist while you kicked at him. He was insane, dangerous and if he wasn't going to kill you, you were willing to bet he was going to rape you just based off of the way he was looking you over.

“Did you not hear me? Right now you're safest with me,” said Hisoka, not at all bothered by your struggles.

“You wouldn't want to know what other kinds of things are around these parts.”

And with that he bit into your wrist.

You screamed as his teeth sunk into the flesh of your arm and broke through. Hitting and kicking at him, you felt him sucking out your blood, watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed it. He was drinking your blood. Actually drinking your blood.

Hisoka was unaffected by your attacks, ignoring the way you were beating at him in an attempt to get him off of you. In mere moments after he had bitten you, you began to feel dizzy, and when your free hand landed a soft blow to his head, it stayed there. He opened an eye, taking in your flushed appearance as the blood-loss – how had he taken so much so quickly? - began to get to you. The corners of the mouth that was still planted on your wrist turned upward as he sneered at you. He was enjoying your distress, and that realization had you seeing red.

In an action fueled by rage at being toyed with by this man, you moved the hand you had placed on his head-

And jammed your thumb into his eye socket.

Hisoka yelled out in a mixture of surprise and pain. He pulled away from your wrist as he staggered backwards.

You lifted a leg and kicked him, finally pulling away from him and turning to make a mad dash back to the cemetery. The adrenaline and the panic in your mind allowed you to not really think about what you had just done to him, only focusing on getting back to the cemetery and from there escape home. And after that, you swore you would never even think about this place again.

Dirt and leaves kicked up around you as you scrambled to get away from that man. You prayed that you would be able to find that entrance to the cemetery – whatever kind of freak Hisoka was, he wouldn't pursue you with a wounded eye, right?

You weren't sure if you tripped over a stray tree root or just simply lost your footing to sheer stupidity, but you stumbled as you ran and fell flat on your face, the speed at which you fell making you hit the ground hard. Your arms and legs flailed as you tried to push yourself back up and continue running, but the shakiness you were suddenly experiencing made it hard to control your limbs.

A heel slammed down on the base of your spine and you yelped as you were forced back down onto the ground. Struggling only made the heel dig in deeper and you screamed as the pain became too much, tears streaming down your face as you were forced into submission. Your whole body shook as you looked at the person standing over you: Hisoka, breathing hard, his eye shut and blood trailing down his cheek and ruining his make-up. Slowly, he brought a hand up to his bleeding eye, wiping the blood with a single finger. He inspected it, like it was something he had never seen before, never experienced. There was a wild look in his uninjured eye, and when he looked back at you he smiled, sharp bloody teeth on full display.

“You have a vicious streak in you,” he breathed, “ if you're willing to gouge out someone's eye just to get away from them.”

“You- you were drinking my blood, you freak,” you spat.

He groaned, licking up his own blood as he looked down at you.

“Darling, you're perfect.”

Suddenly his body was on top of yours, pressing down and holding you in place while he held your wrists above your head. His other hand roughly gripped your hair and pulled your head to the side. His teeth sunk into you again, this time into your neck.

Warm blood was dripping down your neck as he began to suck you dry. Your vision began spinning, and your limbs weren't moving like you wanted them to. When Hisoka pulled away the hand that held your wrists in favor of grabbing your waist, you could barely move them. Your strength was almost completely sapped and you whimpered, never imagining you would die like this.

Hisoka pulled off of you, licking up the blood he had missed before sitting up, virtually straddling you as he re-positioned himself.

“I needed to take a bit more since you injured me, and of course, now you're probably too weak for me to continue like I wanted to. Shame. I liked the idea of fucking you into the forest floor, but I really want you to be awake for it.”

With a good deal of effort, you glanced back up at him.

Two yellow eyes gazed back at you. Two, perfectly fine, yellow eyes that showed no sign of injury save for the lingering smear of blood on his cheek. The eye that you had shoved your thumb into had miraculously healed itself, and that wide smile formed once again when he saw your shock.

“I.... I.. M-my- how?”

“I just drank blood from your neck; you really can't figure it out?” Hisoka laughed, “you aren’t very bright, are you?”

He leaned back down, his nose nuzzling against your cheek. Hisoka sighed against your skin.

“I'm going to keep you like this for a while, let you live out a few more years as a human. You'll want for nothing, and I'll keep you safe. And eventually, I'll make you like me.”

'I don't want to be like you,' you wanted to scream, but you didn't have it in you to say anything. By now you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open. When he finally moved off of you, you made no move to run again. You physically couldn't.

He hauled you up by the back of your shirt, laughing as your head lolled back when he pressed your body against his.

Hisoka's hand on your jaw pulled you back, and his lips met yours in a sloppy kiss, tasting your own blood on his tongue as he shoved it into your slack mouth.

He pulled away, patting your cheek.

“Get some rest now. I expect a lot from you.”

You barely registered his words before unconsciousness finally overtook you.

With a satisfied hum, Hisoka slung you over his shoulder and began to make his journey back to his home deep within the forest. Licking the last of your blood off of his lips, he let out another satisfied sigh.

You were going to keep him entertained for a long time.

[quinncupine]

Obscured Chapter Two: Back To Work

Chapter Word Count: 2,952

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Link: AO3

Previous Chapter: One

Next Chapter: Three

MASTERLIST

...

It didn't exactly surprise Izuku when the hoard of journalists jumped him once he arrived at the hero agency. They surrounded his car as soon as he parked. We wasn't sure how they could pop up that fast with all that heavy camera equipment. They probably trained for it, it seemed they literally chased leads these days.

He stepped out, wearing his signature smile he'd perfected years ago for the public. Camera's and microphones were shoved in his face as they hit him with all sorts of questions. So many talked at once that they drowned each other out.

"Deku, Deku!" Once of them shouted. "Tell us, what have you been doing these past two weeks?"

Deku didn't see a way out of the little crowd that formed around him.

"Have you been investigating the murder of Kanaye Tatsuya?" Another asked.

He gently pushed his way through, he really didn't feel like answering any questions.

"What about your wife?" Someone stubbornly blocked his path. "How is she handling all this?"

"Yes," Another added. "Where is Y/N Midoriya? What precautions are you taking to protect your family?"

They were rapid firing questions too fast for him to think of any safe answers to give.

"Do you think villains will continue to target your family?" Someone yelled above the rest of the chatter.

Izuku glanced around him, nervously flexing his hands. He'd forgotten how...persistent these reporters could be. Camera's flashed in his face. They were waiting for him to show some sort of emotion, not that they didn't know he was the emotional type, that was public knowledge by now. They were waiting for something juicy to gossip about, but he held firm, keeping that soft smile on his face as he tried to think of something to say that would satiate them for the time being. It was a hard thing to do when surrounded by wolves, ready to rip apart their prey.

"Well, I, uh..." Yeah, he was great with words. "Mr. Tatsuya's death is under police investigation. They will do everything in their power to find the one responsible."

"Are you saying that you're not involved in this case anymore?"

"I-"

Someone cut him off. "Are you happy Mr. Tatsuya is dead? He kidnapped and attacked your wife, you must hate the man."

Izuku frowned. They were trying to lure him into a trap, to get him to say something he'd eventually regret.

"Some are saying you had a hand in this?" A man shouted from somewhere within the crowd, holding his mic over a few heads. "Is that true?"

Izuku's calm façade faltered for a moment, ready to counter him, but he froze. He couldn't let himself get bested by some hungry gossipers. He looked for another escape route, but they had surrounded him with a wall of people.

One of the reporters stepped too close to Izuku, a cheeky looking redhead with a wide grin. "There are a lot of rumors out there. Some are saying a diehard fan killed him for you, yet there are others that say it was a plot devised by a drug ring based in Tokyo." She stuck the mic in his face. "What are your thoughts Deku?"

Woah, that information was not supposed to be public knowledge and based on the reactions of the others, they didn't know this info yet either. How the hell did this woman know about the Kobaruto? Someone was feeding her information.

The others went wild, tossing crazy and speculative assumptions around, waiting for him to answer the question.

"Uh..."

Fortunately, he was cut off when someone roared behind him.

"Buzz of vultures!" Bakugo yelled. "This is private property."

The reporters took one look at Bakugo and scrambled away as he stalked over. Even they weren't dumb enough to mess with someone like Katsuki Bakugo, especially if he appeared to be in a bad mood, which was most of the time. They learned early on that the now number two hero doesn't take ambush journalism kindly.

"Kacchan?" Izuku blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think dumbass?" Bakugo grabbed Izuku by the collar of his jacket and dragged him into the building.

Once they were inside and out of prying eyes, Izuku freed himself, straightening out his jacket. Bakugo was wearing civilian clothes which surprised Izuku, he was supposed to be working today.

"You found something, didn't you?" Izuku's eyes widened.

Bakugo growled and kept walking. "Office, now."

Izuku caught up to him and they walked together through the building. Every time they ran into an intern or sidekick, they were stopped as they welcomed Deku back. Bakugo looked irritated, but kept his mouth shut. The entire place seemed to buzz with excitement now that Deku had returned. It had been a strange two weeks without him there.

When Izuku finally made it to his office, he saw Shoto waiting inside, leaning on one of the couches.

"Shoto," Izuku paused at the open doorway. "Is everything alright?"

Shoto straightened himself, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, things are fine."

Bakugo pushed past Izuku and sneered at Shoto. "What's this bastard doing here?'

"I could say the same for you." He crossed his arms.

Izuku glanced outside before shutting the door. "Kacchan is helping me with the investigation."

"I came to offer my assistance as well."

"Pass, we got enough losers on this case as it is." Bakugo stuck his thumb at Izuku.

"Midoriya, I want to help."

Izuku looked at Shoto. He valued him as a close friend and comrade, probably his closest friend, and yet these past few weeks were strenuous on both parties. Shoto was still holding that anvil of self-hatred over his head and it was getting heavier and heavier to carry.

He blamed himself for almost seriously injuring you when they had all come to your rescue. Since then, Shoto seemed to only be distancing himself from the both of you. He barely talked to Izuku, who had tried several times to get through to him, and completely avoided you altogether, as if that would somehow fix things. Poor Momo was acting as middle-man between the two of you since Shoto refused to talk.

"Alright," He said after a long moment of debate. "But you can't keep avoiding...people. This case revolves around her."

Shoto lowered his head. "I apologize. I realize that I've been acting-"

"Like an asshole?" Bakugo supplied.

"Childish." He finished. "There is a lot of unresolved issues that I hadn't realized were still there." He looked up. "But I want to help now."

Izuku studied him. He was standing taller, a more confident shine to his eyes, something he was seriously lacking these last few weeks. Between the cracks of that old familiar wall Shoto had buried himself behind again, he saw remnants of his friend.

Izuku beckoned him to follow as he went behind his desk. He set his bag on the top and pulled out a large stack of folders. It was a mess of sticky notes, tabs, and a few coffee stains. His handwriting was scribbled in every blank space he could find, all his thoughts put in pen.

"These are the case files." He handed them to Shoto. "Everything Tsukauchi gave me."

Shoto leafed through them. "Are you sure it's the Kobaruto behind this?"

"I know they're connected somehow." He crossed his arms. "Tatsuya was dealing with them, and they're the only known suppliers of Trace."

"Trace. It's fairly new, right?" Shoto pulled out a crumpled paper and looked it over.

"Yeah, started showing up a little over six months ago." He nodded. "It's reminiscent of Trigger. They share similar traits. I wouldn't be surprised if this is some variant of it."

"Trigger. The quirk enhancing drug." Shoto looked up. "I haven't seen that in a while."

"Apparently, Trace is the new drug of choice now." Izuku narrowed his eyes. "But they're careful who they sell to. We haven't been able to catch any of the dealers yet."

"And we can't rely on the druggie's." Bakugo said. "Trace degrades your mental state." He shook his head. "No, more like shreds it. Even if Tatsuya wasn't killed, he was never going to recover after months of that kind of abuse."

"What do you know about the Kobaruto?" Shoto asked.

"That's the problem." Izuku frowned. "We know next to nothing about them. They appeared out of the blue one day with a brand new drug. They might be small, but they know how to evade us."

"That's because I wasn't looking for them before." Bakugo punched his hands together. "I'll find them and destroy every last one of those bastards."

Shoto placed the files back inside the folder as neatly as he could. The colored tabs stuck out at various angles looking like the entire might explode any second.

He tapped the top of the folder. "I'll follow up on some of these leads. I'll let you know what I find."

"Shoto," Izuku called as he turned to leave. "Don't talk to anyone else about this. For now, it's still technically in Tsukauchi's jurisdiction. There is no official co-op on this."

He nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Bakugo rounded on Izuku. "You sure he's up for this? The bastard's been flakey as of late." He narrowed his eyes. "I can beat some sense into him."

Izuku stared at the door. "You know he's always been insecure about his fire. What happened just pushed him over the edge." He shook his head. "He won't talk to me about it and he won't even look at Y/N."

Bakugo rested his palms on the back of a chair. "He's an idiot, that's nothing new."

Izuku plopped in his chair behind the desk and rubbed his head. "You found something right?"

Bakugo glanced at the door before sitting in front of the desk. "Yeah, about that imposter at the police station. I've been looking into it."

Izuku sat up. "What did you find?"

"Nothing much." He grumbled. "If this guy was good enough to impersonate All Might, in front of Tsukauchi no less, then he's good at covering this tracks."

Izuku leaned back, folded his hands and stared out the large windows that covered half his office. The first sign of the sun was just coming over the horizon and cast gentle waves of light through the office. It usually calmed him down, but today, it seemed like his nerves were ready to break straight through the window.

"This isn't good."

"No, it isn't." Bakugo agreed. "But I did find one thing."

Izuku looked back at him.

Bakugo pulled out his phone and set in on the desk. The screen showed a grainy picture taken in the dark. It was hard to make it out, but it was clearly a figure that was running across what looked to be a rooftop. The only distinguishable trait was the blue Kabuki mask underneath a black hood.

Izuku picked up the phone and examined the picture closely. "Who is this?"

"Don't know." Bakugo crossed his arms, a deep frown on his face. "This is the only solid picture I could find. Guy's a ghost."

"You think he's connected to the Kobaruto somehow?" Izuku zoomed in on the mask.

"There's been rumors spreading around the underworld, about a man in a mask." Bakugo took the phone back.

"So how's he connected?"

"Eyewitness reports put him in their territory." He leaned forward. "I don't have any solid evidence yet, but if I had to guess, I would say he's one of their runners."

"If we can bring this guy in- Izuku stood up. "-then he could actually give us some answers."

"Now that sounds fun." Bakugo smirked. "He likes to roam the Maridun district, but he only seems to come out at night to play."

"Then we'll wait for night to head out."

"No way, this is my lead." Bakugo stood up.

"But-"

"No. Besides, you have other things to take care of." He narrowed his eyes, daring Izuku to argue.

They had a glaring contest before Izuku huffed and looked down. Again, he felt conflicted. He really wanted to track down this guy. The sooner they could solve this case, the sooner everyone could get their lives back on track. On the other hand, he didn't want to leave you alone for so long, not when there were so many serious dangers still lurking out there. He ran through all the scenarios in his mind, trying to find a way to do both, but Bakugo was right.

"Fine," He relented. "But at least bring someone with you. Shoto wou-"

"Hell no!" Bakugo yelled. "I'm not going anywhere with two face."

"Kacchan..."

Bakugo ground his teeth and looked away. "I'll bring Kirishima in on this. I trust him."

Izuku nodded. "Fine. Keep me updated."

"I'll let you know when I bring this fucker in." Bakugo pocketed his phone and turned to leave.

"Thanks," Izuku said quietly as he reached the door. "Kacchan."

Bakugo looked him over and left.

Izuku deflated into his chair, running a hand through his hair. This case was growing more and more complicated by the minute. There was just no way that Tatsuya's death was a coincidence, everyone knew that, even the media had come to the same conclusion. There was something bigger behind this, he was sure of it. That's why he didn't want to leave you, even if Ochaco and Momo were with you. You were his responsibility to keep safe and so far, he'd failed pretty miserably at that.

His phone rang, startling him. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the caller I.D. and saw your name. A million thoughts ran through his head, most of them not good, as he answered the phone.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" He practically yelled into the phone.

"What? Of course." You answered casually. "I just thought I'd call to make sure everything was going well. The media's already twisting your words."

"You know you shouldn't watch the news." He leaned back in his chair. "It'll rot your common sense."

"Yeah, well, there's not much else to do when you're stuck inside all day." You grumbled.

Izuku frowned. "I'm sorry. This is my fault-"

"Hey, what did I say about throwing self-pity parties?" You scolded.

He rubbed his eyes with a smirk. "Sorry."

"And stop it with all this sorry crap. Sorry is for idiots who actually did something stupid." You huffed. "And don't think I don't see all those heroes casually strolling past the house. I know you asked them to."

Izuku rubbed his neck. "Uh, well..."

"Yeah, yeah," You sighed. "I know you're just worried. I also know that you're keeping things from me."

"W-what do you mean?" A lump formed in his throat.

"I know there are certain things you don't tell me. Stuff about your hero work and I get that, but..." You paused. "You would tell me if there was more to this, right?"

You were smart. You could always catch him in a lie. He hated lying to you, it felt horrible, but he also hated the look that crossed your face whenever Tatsuya was brought up. It was still affecting you big time and he couldn't stand to see you so upset. Nothing good would come of it if you were let in on the case, so there was really no need to tell you. At least that's how he justified it.

"Look, Y/N, I-"

"Save it." You interrupted him. "Just go back to work...and stay safe."

"Yeah." He said quietly. "I'll be home before dinner."

"Ok. Love you." You muttered.

"Love you too."

You hung up before he could even finish, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. You had every right to be upset, but you were keeping it all to yourself. You didn't let Izuku in on your personal thoughts anymore like you used to. There was a growing gap between the two of you and he didn't like it one bit. Everything he did seemed to only widen that gap and he wasn't sure how to build the bridge over it.

He groaned and laid his head on the desk. The cool wood felt comforting and he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to get in the right headspace to start the day. He was scheduled to start patrols again, but at the moment, his heart just wasn't in it.

After awhile, the phone on his desk rang and he almost vaulted out of his chair to reach it. "Hello?"

"Midoriya." It was Tsukauchi. "Sorry to call so early."

It's fine chief, what is it?" Izuku felt his stomach churn, Tsukauchi's voice sounded tight.

"You know the Hashira gang?" He asked. "They run drugs, mainly operating out in the Agamar Quarter."

Izuku nodded. "Yeah, small-time. What about them?"

"We just found them."

"What do you mean?" He had an excellent guess as to what he meant.

"They were all killed last night." Tsukauchi said. "Got an anonymous tip this morning on where to find them. It's a real mess out here."

"The entire gang was taken out?" Izuku stood up, gripping onto the cord. "A gang war?"

It couldn't be a coincidence that a rival gang was just exterminated. This was a big move, one with a lot of consequences.

"Possibly. We just got here. I'll know more when I inspect the scene, but," He paused. "Well, you need to get down here. There's something you need to see."

If that didn't spell ominous, Izuku wasn't sure what would.

"I'm on my way."

It seemed he'd have to postpone patrols for a little while longer.

Tag List: @miriobaby @hmm-cats @thecindy @awilddreamerwrites @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe

...

Chapter 3

If you wanna be added to the tag list just let me know!!! Thanks Loves!

[barnesbabee]

The Boss Doesn’t Like It || C.J

Summary: Don’t fuck around where you shouldn’t be.

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Words: Bruh ngl it’s long as fuuuuck :/

Genre: Smut, Angst

⚠ Mafia!au, metion of drugs, mentions of blood, usage of guns, degrading, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, thigh kink ⚠

A/N: This is for the lovers of the Mafia!au then. Enojy 💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

    His hand flew across your cheek, and an incredible, stinging pain spread through your face.

    “I’m gonna ask this one more fucking time, and you better answer properly, or else…” The dark-haired male pulled a gun from his thigh gun holster.

    He pressed the cold barrel to your temple harshly, forcing you to slightly cock your head. You were trying your best to remain calm and not seem pathetic, but you couldn’t help and freak out a little over the gun pointed at your head. Breathing was suddenly hard and small beads of sweat rolled down your forehead.

    “I’ve fucking told you three times. I don’t work for anyone. You got the wrong idea, it’s not my fault.”

   It was entirely your fault. You should have told your drug dealer to fuck off, that he was going to deliver them to you in a reasonable place and that you sure as Hell wouldn’t step into that part of the town, but of course your thought process didn’t go as far as considering the consequences of your dangerous actions.

    The very second you stepped foot into the dark street decorated with used syringes, broken glass and rusty knives, you were knocked out by a harsh blow to the head. You woke up tied to a chair, in a cold, cement room that had nothing but a table with pristine tools on top of it, that, to be honest, scared the living shit out of you.

    The tall mal smacked you with the gun barrel, proceeding to shove it back where he had taken it from. You winced at the pain, and soon after felt the warm blood.

    He turned his back, visibly infuriated by the response, and walked towards the metal door.

    “She doesn’t leave.” He told the man standing outside, just as he walked away from the scenario.

   The door was slammed shut with a loud noise. You finally let yourself break down, and never-ending tears streamed down your face as you bit your lower lip to try and suppress your sobs. You felt like puking. You felt claustrophobic because of the tight ropes you couldn’t wriggle out of.

    Suddenly, just as you were about to lose hope, your eyes landed on the tool table. The scalpel. You looked towards the door and started conjuring a way out, before they eventually killed you, or made you bleed to death. If you tried to move closer to the table in your current situation, the chair would creak against the floor and the man outside would hear you. He had to be gone… But how on earth would you be able to do that…

   An idea popped into your head, and you remembered your previous thoughts.

   You felt like puking.

   You bent over in the chair so that the ropes would be pressing tighter against the mouth of the stomach, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately started salivating and gagging in the air, loudly.

   The man outside heard this and burst inside immediately. He saw you hunching over, salivating onto the floor. The male gripped your hair and forced your body back to his original position. He removed his hand and approached his face to yours.

   “Boss doesn’t like his shit messy, so if you puke you’ll clean it right back up”

   You took the proximity of your faces as the perfect opportunity. You swung your head back and smashed it against his nose as hard as your body allowed you to. The man stumbled back and, by pure luck (for you), hit his head on the pipe behind him, and fell to the ground unconscious. 

    You wasted no time in grabbing the scalpel once you had gotten close enough to the table, and started by undoing the ropes around your wrists, then around your torso, and finally around your feet. Before you fleed the room, you rummaged through the man’s body until you found a gun. Did you know how to use it? No, but you felt safer with it in your hands knowing that probably everyone you’d run into had one of these with them.

    You blindly made your way through the halls, just praying to God that wherever you were going lead to a way out. Surprisingly enough, you were able to escape the building. The gun immediately slipped from your hands the second you stepped into the outside world and you ran away like some monster was out to get you. You didn’t stick around to hear the boss’ angry yell when he found that some mere girl was able to knock out the man whose specific instructions were to not let you out, and then escape. 

   He was beyond furious, because you had beat him. And no one beats Jongho. He swore on his life he’d find you and bring you back, and then he’d decide your fate.

   Enveloped with fear and paranoia, you barely left the house the following month, only when it was absolutely necessary. But as time passed, and as the weeks went by, you felt safer, the crazy thoughts washed away and you felt like you could start living your life again. Slowly your life began coming back, and as a celebration, one night, you hesitantly left your apartment and made your way to the club as a way of cheering for your returned freedom. 

    As the night went on, you started becoming more free and careless, living the party. Every shot you took was like piecing back together your confidence, and you eventually let go of your worries as the music played through your body. 

   The third song since you had been on the dance floor started playing, and you felt a pair of hands encircle your waist and pull you closer. Your back hit their chest and for a second you were worried and a little anxious, but when you glanced over your shoulder to see the person’s face, you were pleasantly surprised. You smiled at the good-looking, red-haired stranger and he replied with a smirk.

    “Hey pretty.” He whispered in your ear.

   Instead of replying, you began moving your body once more, swaying your hips to the music, making sure your ass was grinding against his crotch. His grunts and small squeezed were an incentive to keep going, and you gladly did.

    He lowered his head, so his lips would be leveled with your right ear.

    “What do you say we take this somewhere else, beautiful?”

   You turned around and encircled his neck with your arms. You placed a long, teasing kiss on his plump lips and pulled away right after, wanting to give him just a taste of what awaited him. 

    “Let’s go?” You asked, stepping away from the male’s body. 

   He answered your question by placing his hand on your ass and squeezing it, while he lead the two of you out of the crowded club. 

   Your legs were a little wobbly as you tried to keep up with the pace of his long legs. Your eyes wandered around the place you were heading towards. It was… odd. It was very dark and it seemed empty, compared to the rest of the city. A chill ran down your spine and you decided to walk a little bit behind the stranger, as you started feeling the fear creeping up again. You wanted to ignore it, because it was most probably still remains of your previous fright, but you couldn’t shake it. When the male grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an alleyway, you stopped being scared and became terrified.

    Everything was dark, but you could make out three figures standing in front of you.

   “W-what’s going on?” You asked and gulped.

   Your mind immediately went to the worst-case scenarios: kidnapping, sex traffic, you name it. Your legs were visibly shaking, until a car’s headlights turned on. Your body froze and you covered the light with your hand for a second, as it was too blinding. When you moved your hand and looked at the men standing in front of you, you became unable to think. There stood the male you had been avoiding for months, the man you swore you were safe from. 

   Your heart beat a million times per second, it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest at any second and breathing became hard.

   “Good job Mingi.” He said, in a stern voice to the man beside you. 

   You watched as the stranger that you had been following up until now nodded his head and joined the other men in front of the car. 

    The male you tried to avoid started stepping towards you, and, just as he opened his mouth to say something, you felt dizzy, and you suddenly felt light. It was all too overwhelming, too terrifying, and you couldn’t take it. You didn’t remember anything else, but the cold feeling of the floor as your body collapsed.

    You woke up, cold and uncomfortable. You tried to move, but you were obviously restrained by something. Your head was pounding, and for a second all you remembered were the insane amount of shots you took. When the rest of the memories hit you, however, your eyes shot open and you sat up, wherever you were. You moved a little too quickly and so your vision became blurry for a second, but that didn’t stop you from frantically looking around the room, trying to make out where you were.

     Oh great...

    One of your hands was handcuffed to the pipe in the room you had once been tied in a chair, except this time the tool table was nowhere to be seen. You cursed yourself for being so naive the previous night and following that stranger into this mess… 

    Whoever you were dealing with was smart, that much you could deduct. They must have been following you for weeks, tracing you and camping outside your home for the longest time, and you hadn’t even noticed. You shivered at how terrifying that was.

    Long streams of tears escaped your eyes, and you honestly couldn’t tell if they were from the stress, fear, desperation, or sadness. You reached your free hand up to your cheeks and wiped the tears. You looked at your fingers after your face was dry and saw all of the black mascara smeared on them.

    “I’m gonna die ugly I can’t believe this…”

    And so you began to cry once more at the thought of death. 

   The big door burst open and slammed against the wall. A red-haired male you recognized from the previous night approached you holding a key and knelt down next to you, beginning to undo your handcuff. The memories of what he had done to you hit you like a truck, and the shame and fury bubbling inside of you couldn’t be contained. You gathered all of the courage you had in you (which was not much at this point) and spat in his face. Straight between his pretty, cat-like eyes.

    “Asshole.” 

    He looked at you with a threatening expression and you cowered a little in your spot. The male cleaned the saliva on his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

    “I was doing my job.”

   You rolled your eyes and let yourself be pulled up by the man after he had uncuffed you. You didn’t try to run, you weren’t completely dumb and you were totally aware that not only was he much stronger, he was probably much faster too. 

   He pulled you along for a couple of meters and up a flight of stairs until you reached a pair of big, dark wood doors. The man opened the door, threw you in, and slammed it close, leaving you in there to your own fate.

   “You know….”

  You stopped facing the door and turned around to look at the familiar voice’s owner. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up, tucked inside a pair of black jeans. The male seemed to miss the point of a button-up shirt, as it was very much ‘buttoned-down’.

   You watched each of his moves carefully and warily, as you were a little concerned about what awaited you. 

   “I’m very curious about how you managed to escape. Yeosang won’t tell me, admittedly because he must be very embarrassed a girl we came to find out is just a university student managed to knock him out and escape,” He paused, sipped on his whiskey and walked towards you, until you were chest to chest “ and I’m very, very, interested in your little endeavor.”

    You pushed him away with your index finger, very disturbed by the proximity. He looked at your finger curiously, and honestly amused about the way you behaved before someone who owned several guns and had threatened you before with one. 

    “I used my head, okay? Just kill me or torture me or do whatever you’re going to do, get it over with.” You didn’t want to go any farther.

    Jongho shrugged and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest in the process. 

    “You know princess, the problem is, I don’t know what it is that I’m going to do to you…”

   You looked at him confusedly, what kind of gang member was he? Did they just spin the wheel to decide what to do?

   “What is that supposed to mean?...” You question, crossing your arms as well.

   “What’s your name, princess?” 

   The pet name left his lips in such a natural way that you couldn’t help but like the sound of it.

   “You can just keep calling me princess.”

   Jongho chuckled and smirked, absolutely in love with your fierceness. Perhaps it was bravery, perhaps it was stupidity, but whatever it was, Jongho had never seen it in a woman and he was stunned, to say the least.

    “I like you, princess. I like the way you behave. You came into this side of town, got captured by Mafia members, got threatened by their boss and didn’t give a fuck, proceeded to knock down one of them, left the building, then you were caught again and now you’re here,” He approached you once more, this time taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to look him in the eye properly “talking down to the Boss.”

    You shivered in place, but maintained your confident posture. Jongho chuckled, his gaze never leaving yours.

    His eyes traveled along your body, followed by his hands that explored your curves shamelessly. 

    “I might just need to give you a punishment for being such a brat…”

   “You’re a lucky one.”

   You looked at the tall man that lead you to a random room you hadn’t been told what it was. 

    “How am I lucky?”

   He glanced at you as if you were stupid and chuckled.

   “Jongho took a liking to you, he’s invited you for dinner, pretty. You’re lucky you didn’t get on his bad side after what you did… My best guess was that you were going to die, in the best-case scenario.”

    You swallowed dryly, a little thankful for having a future to look upon. 

    “Here it is, fix yourself, you look like shit.”

    You scoffed at the tall male and entered the room. It was an enormous bathroom, marble-decorated bathroom. You looked yourself in the mirror, fuck, you did look like pure shit. Disheveled hair, runny makeup, and torn up dress. You questioned Jongho’s taste in women for a second…

   Your thoughts came to a halt when you saw white fabric sitting on the counter right beside you. It had a small, handwritten note. You picked it up to read it.

   ‘Wear this tonight, if it doesn’t fit you can wear nothing ;)’

   How long ago had he planned this!?

   Nonetheless, you stripped from yourself and cleaned your face the best you could so you could slip on the white dress without staining it. You had to admit, Jongho knew how to dress women well. The dress was absolutely stunning: it was a white, off-shoulder dress with a v-neck and a pencil skirt. 

    You fixed your hair quickly and made a braid out of it with the hair tie that was always on your wrist. Admittedly the dress was a little tight, but it was better than the other option.

    You opened the bathroom door once you were done and found the same tall, blue-haired man waiting for you.

    “Ready?”

   You nodded, and he silently lead you through the halls to what you supposed was the dining area.

    “Behave, Jongho isn’t as friendly as he looks.” The tall man advised before opening the door.

   He pushed it open for you to enter. Before getting in you looked over your shoulder.

   “Jongho seems to enjoy it when I misbehave.”

   You winked and finally stepped into the dining room. Jongho was already there, now in black dress pants instead of his previous jeans, looking outside of the building.

    When he heard the door close, he turned around.

    “Princess, you look beautiful. Although I have to say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t choose option number two.”

    You smiled at the cheesy joke and joined him looking at the pretty sunset. 

    The male noticed how the dress hugged your body, and suddenly the most beautiful sight wasn’t the sunset.

    Jongho’s eyes were glued to how well he could see every single of your curves through the dress. Your big bust, your wide hips, your thick thighs… The man grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body. You were a little taken aback at the sudden movements.

    “You know, I don’t think I can wait until after dinner, I might have to punish you now.”

    “Wait but-”

    “Y/N,” He paused, and his tumb caressed your lower lip “you misbehaved, you’re lucky you’re not dead.”

   He did know your name. Of course he did…

    “Although depending on what your sexual preferences are, you might wish I had just killed you after what I’m going to do to you.” 

    You had never felt like this. You had never felt the urge to become this submissive to anybody… Excitement took over you and every trace of discomfort evaporated as you gave into his touch.

    Jongho noticed the shift in your behavior and smirked. He swung you over his shoulder, as if your body was made out of feathers, and made way for his bedroom. You were surprised at how easily he lifted you, and you couldn’t help but imagine how effortlessly he could maneuver you.

    Once he’d reached the bedroom, he closed the door with his foot and threw you on his king-sized bed. You watched him undress from his shirt at the speed of light before hovering over you, each leg beside your waist. One of his hands held him up while the other caressed your thigh.

    “I can’t fucking wait to take you off of this dress.” He whispered.

   Your hands caressed his arms, feeling and squeezing his biceps that you now loved. 

   “Why don’t you then?” 

   His eyes turned a darker shade and his hands immediately gripped the hem of your dress and peeled it off of your body. The tight fabric gave you no space for a bra, so as soon as you fell back on the bed, your boobs bounced on your chest, and Jongho’s cock hardened.

   He gripped both of your tits in his hands.

   “No bra? Such a fucking slut… Practically begging to be fucked.”

   He lowered himself so his lips could meet yours in a harsh, sloppy kiss. Your spit mixed with his as your tongues fought for dominance in a fight you were sure to lose. Jongho pinched your nipples, causing you to whimper and buck your hips. As you did so, your crotch rubbed against Jongho’s, making him groan into the kiss.

   He pulled away from the kiss and attached his lips to your neck, pampering it with kisses until he found soft spots. He bit down of them and sucked harshly, then making sure to lick around the place that would be marked soon enough. As he worked on your neck, his hand teased your clothed pussy.

   “I’m gonna fuck you so well princess, I’m gonna make you scream my name.” He said against your neck.

   You chuckled and sucked in a breath.

   “Are you sure you can do that?”

    Jongho’s grip on you grew tighter and he locked eyes with you for a second. The look in his eyes told you you’d struck a nerve, and you felt satisfied with yourself. Jongho’s fingers pulled your panties down and threw them on the floor of his bedroom.

    The man undid his belt and pulled down his zipper so he could strip from his pants. Then, in one swift movement, he wrapped his arm around your waist, sat on the edge of the bed, and placed you on his bare thigh. The feeling of your naked core against his skin alone made you hiss.

   Jongho grabbed your ass and spanked it harshly.

   “Ride it.”

   You looked at him as if the instructions were unclear, and he slapped your ass once more.

   “I’m gonna make you ride my thigh until you beg for my cock you fucking whore.”

   He gripped your hair and brought your face closer to his. You whimpered in pleasure when you felt his fingers tug on your hair.

   “You like this? Hm? Let’s see if you can take it, start moving baby girl.”

    Your hips started rocking slowly against his hips, but his big hands on your ass forced you to move faster. Jongho teasingly flexed his thigh against your core, and he could feel the wetness spread on his thigh. 

    You started moving faster looking for a release, but you knew it wasn’t enough, you needed more of him, you wanted more of him. 

   Jongho saw the desperation in your face as you gripped his shoulders and sunk yourself harsher and faster on his thigh. His hands gripped your ass tighter, as he wanted to push you to your limit, he wanted to hear you beg for him, and eventually, you gave in.

    “Jongho… Jongho please I need you.”

   He hummed, not quite please by your words.

   “You need me doing what? What do you need me for?”

   You held back a moan as his thumb found its way to your clit.

   “I-I need you fucking me. I need your cock in me Jongho.”

    Finally happy with your begs, Jongho picked you up effortlessly and pushed you down on his bed. He slid down his boxers, letting his cock hit your bare pussy. You whimpered at how big he was.

     Jongho ran his tip along your folds, teasing your clit with it for a second.

    “You want my cock? Hm? Do you want my cock in you my little whore? Beg for it.” He demanded. 

   You gripped the sheets in anticipation and looked up at him.

   “Please Jongho, please fuck me, I want you in me.”

   With no further notice, Jongho pushed into you. He thrust his hips into your body almost in an animalistic way. The headboard hit the wall violently but you couldn’t hear it, you were too focused on Jongho’s grunts as he fucked into you. 

    Jongho squeezed your sides, loving the way his fingers dipped in your skin.

    Your hands landed on Jongho’s biceps once more, squeezing them. You loved the way he looked so fucking big on top of you.

    He slapped your inner thigh and you whimpered at the pleasurable pain. 

    Jongho hit such a deep spot inside of you, even if you wanted to you couldn’t hold back your squeals and moans. Jongho gripped your waist and flipped you, so he’d be sitting on the bed with you riding him. He just loved to hear the way your ass slapped against his things.

    Your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as you felt your orgasm building up.

     “J-Jongo fuck… You feel so good…”

    He smacked your ass once more and picked up the pace once he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

    “Cum for me princess, I wanna hear you.”

    You lasted about six more seconds before your body gave in. You slammed down on his cock one last time before an overwhelming orgasm washed over you. You hid your face on the crook of his neck as your whole body shook and you cried for his name. 

   Seeing your bratty, snappy figure crumble like that made something twist inside Jongho, and the final tight feeling of your hole clenching around him threw him over the edge. He shot his warm, thick load inside of you, filling you up to the brim. 

   Neither of you moved, you just sat like sat catching your breaths for a couple of minutes. You only lifted your head when you heard him chuckle. You gave him a puzzled look, and the male ran his hand up and down your back as he planted a kiss on one of the hickeys he’d given you.

    “I think I want to keep you for myself.”

[cali-holland]

Golden Bullets, Ch 2: License to Kill

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3300

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist   Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: sexual themes (literally a woman named Pussy), violence, death

Featured Song: Licence to Kill by Gladys Knight from Licence to Kill (1989)

 ~ “Got a licence to kill and you know I’m going straight for your heart”

~~~

“Touch the stereo one more time and I’ll shoot you in the dick.”

Your grumbling threat seemed to resonate with Harrison as he dropped his hand from reaching to change your music again. He let out a long sigh; this drive from the Monaco airport to the hotel felt like such a long one. He hated old music, and yet all you seemed to want to listen to in the car was Nancy Sinatra- it’s like you only knew songs from the 1960’s. If it wasn’t for the urgency of this mission and the fact that he was in such an incredible car, he probably would have jumped out by now.

“You are awfully fascinated with my dick.” Harrison stated, a small smirk playing on his lips. You adjusted your white retro sunglasses on your face, shaking your head at him.

“Hardly.” You scoffed, “It’s your biggest weakness, so it’s quite easy to threaten, especially when shooting your dick off means I can hurt that delicate ego of yours.”

“Ouch, darling, you might actually hurt me there.” He feigned offense at your words. “If my biggest weakness is my dick, then what’s yours, sweetheart?”

“How many times must I tell you not to call me darling or sweetheart or angel or doll or any other pet name that rolls off your tongue?” You replied, ignoring his question completely.

“Not enough, angel. It’s so easy to get you bothered by a simple pet name.”

“I’m an agent. I’m not your pet.”

“Ah, but according to the hotel room, you’re my wife, Y/N.” Harrison teased. He watched as your jaw clenched, hearing your real name fall from his mouth for the first time. “Did you think I wouldn’t know your real name? Don’t act like you didn’t do any digging on me.”

“I didn’t need to. All of MI6 knows how much of an arrogant ass you are.” You stated, pulling the car into the hotel’s parking lot. “Your list of women extends much farther than your list of kills.”

“I bet you’d love to be added to the first list.” He smirked, placing a hand on your knee. You glared at him as you removed his hand.

“In your dreams, Osterfield.” You said lowly before getting out of the car, smiling at the valet. Harrison exited the DB10 after you, straightening out his suit as he did so.

“Let me get the bags, love.” Harrison told you, opening the trunk of the car to get out all of the luggage, which most of it consisted of weapons and money from MI6. As the two of you stood in the lobby, waiting to check in to the new room, you cuddled into Harrison’s figure, wrapping a hand around his neck as you spoke quietly in his ear.

“You’ll be added to my list, too if you’re not more careful with that tongue.” You threatened, voice just above a whisper. Your perfectly manicured fingers traced over the breast pocket on his suit, and you felt his heart race under you. Your threat was a very real one, but Harrison couldn’t help the shiver that made its way down his spine at the sultriness of your voice. 

Still, he put on his charm as he looked at you in his arms. Just as smoothly as you had spoken, he answered, “I hope that’s your first list, Y/N.”

~~~

“Martini. Shaken, not stirred.” Harrison told the bartender at the Monte Carlo casino that night. He adjusted his suit jacket as he leaned against the bar, waiting on his drink.

Ever since you two arrived at the hotel, you managed to ignore his presence completely. The hotel room had two queen size beds, extravagantly decorated and fit for two of Britain’s best agents. You were an incredibly curious case to him, you were an enigma. Something about you made him want to know everything about you. He found your resistance to his flirtatious advances especially alluring. He was starting to understand how you were an infamous seductress- you put the womanizer himself to shame.

“If you’re going to drink while working, you might as well go for something better than a martini.” You stated, your voice echoing in the comms piece in his ear. Harrison smirked to himself a little.

“Finally joining the party, princess?” He joked as his drink arrived. Since your task tonight was to flirt your way into Sciarra’s world, you had decided it’d be best for you and Harrison to arrive alone, which meant he had to have a chauffeur in a BMW while you drove the Aston Martin.

“Why, yes, I am.” You replied. Harrison lifted his martini glass to his lips and he casually looked around the busy casino. His eyes instantly caught on your figure as you wore a floor-length silk dress. The red material clung to you in all the right places with a slit that ran up to your upper thigh; your cleavage on view just enough to keep him wondering where you hid your weapons. He already knew your sleek black stilettos were made of steel and, most likely, had knife compartments- one of Q’s specialities for non-technology based weapons. You smirked, seeing Harrison’s blue eyes scanning over your dress, and you turned to place a gamble on a game, giving him the optimal view of the backless feature of the dress, the cut out dipping dangerously low.

“I don’t think that dress is inconspicuous enough.” He said after a moment. He slowly sipped on his martini, his throat feeling dry as his eyes couldn’t leave your figure.

“As if I care about what you think of my dress.” You answered, “Besides, the plan is to get Sciarra alone. Just watch my back, and stay focused.”

“Trust me, with you looking like that, beautiful, I’ll have no problem watching your back.” It was his turn to smirk, as you gave him the side-eye across the casino.

“Keep it in your pants, Osterfield.”

Spotting Sciarra at a craps table, you casually made your way over. You stood opposite of him, peering at the table below you. You gently leaned against it, allowing for your dress to shift slightly- and just like that, Sciarra made his way over to you. M was right- he was nothing short of a sleazy adulterer.

“Give me a blow?” He asked, holding up the die to you. You smiled, blowing on them for good luck. His eyes stayed on you as he rolled the die, far more invested in you now than his gambling. “Do you play?”

“No, but I enjoy-” You paused, your eyes trailing him up and down, “the views much more than the game itself.”

Across the casino, Harrison got himself a second martini and stood from his seat. He made his way over to the craps table to watch the game in progress while still keeping an eye on you as you flirted with Sciarra. His fingers trailed along the glass, looking around the table. Almost every single man had eyes on you, but your eyes stayed firmly on Sciarra, giving him your undivided attention. Something twisted in Harrison as he watched Sciarra run a hand down your bare arm before resting the hand on your bare back and, by the looks of it, his hand was far too low for Harrison’s liking. And not only did he have to watch that, but also heard each word passed between you and Sciarra through the mic.

“Casinos really bring out the sleaziness of some men.” Harrison heard a velvety voice speak teasingly from behind him. His blue eyes left your figure, and he looked at the woman now standing beside him. You were definitely the most attractive woman here, but this woman was a close second in an incredibly fitting gold dress. Her blond hair framed her face perfectly and, with the casino lights in the room, it almost looked golden.

“Hope I’m not included in that.” He chuckled, watching as her eyes flickered between each of the men around the table before landing on him.

“I said some.” The woman said with a soft laugh, showing off her pearly white teeth. “I noticed you when you walked in. You came alone, and with no wedding ring print on your finger- you must be a good one.”

“You’re observant, miss-?” Harrison trailed off, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“My name is Pussy Galore.” She replied, and Harrison could’ve sworn he saw you hold back a snicker across the table.

“I must be dreaming.” He smirked.

“And you, handsome?” She asked, a hand trailing along the buttons of his white shirt. His eyes flickered over to you, seeing you and Sciarra move to a reserved table for drinks; you were close to getting him alone, and that meant you’d need Harrison’s help soon. You discreetly removed the mic from your ear, not wanting to hear Harrison talk to the other woman any longer.

“The name’s Osterfield. Harrison Osterfield.”

He continued to flirt with the gorgeous woman as the casino bustled on around them. Miss Galore, as he respectfully mentally referred to her, spoke up after a few minutes, “Excuse me while I go freshen up.”

Before he could say anything else to her, she left. His eyes wandered back over to you and he noticed how close Sciarra was to your side as the dealer talked to his henchman across the table, but you weren’t flirting; no, Harrison could see the familiar fear in your eyes, the fear of a gun being held against your skin.

Out of instinct, he reached for his gun in his suit jacket. His fingers came in contact with the cool metal, and he watched as you quickly slammed your heel into Sciarra’s foot, just as you had done to Harrison in the parking lot, and kicked up the table, smacking his henchman in the face with the hardwood. Harrison drew his gun as you snatched Sciarra’s. The two of you ducked for cover behind a couple of turned tables from his henchmen’s bullets. The crowd at the casino screamed, everyone running in their expensive suits and designer dresses out of the casino.

“We can’t let Sciarra get away.” You told Harrison.

“Yeah, working on it.” He replied, getting up from his spot to fight one of the other men since he was now out of bullets. But the other man was ridiculously built, definitely used for the muscle, and he easily flipped Harrison onto a table, shattering the wood as he groaned. Picking up a couple large pieces of wood, he did his best to fight the bigger man, even stabbing him the leg to gain a little leverage.

Meanwhile, you ripped off your shoes, activating the knife part of the stiletto. Expertly, you threw one at Sciarra as he tried to escape, pinning his arm to the wall with the knife caught on his suit sleeve. You threw your other stiletto at the bigger man fighting Harrison, the knife landing mere inches from your partner’s face and in the opponent’s heart.

“Thanks for the head’s up.” Harrison stated in disbelief that you had gotten that close to hitting him with a knife.

“I just saved you from ruining another table. Are you happy?” You questioned, shooting another guard down with the golden gun you stole from Sciarra.

Harrison dove into fighting with another henchman, and you watched as a couple of men led Sciarra from the scene. Before you could step out from behind your table, someone came up behind you, grabbing your hands in his, effectively making you drop your gun. You cursed your barefootedness, unable to get a good grip to fight the taller man. As you attempted to kick his legs, he swiftly grabbed your throat, and a bullet went whizzing by your head, hitting him dead in the eye. You looked over at Harrison while he went running for the casino door.

“You can give me shit for almost shooting you later. He’s getting away.” Harrison urged you. You abandoned your gun and chased after him, just mere steps behind him.

“No, no-“ You started to shout as Harrison jumped into the driver’s seat of the Aston Martin.

“C’mon, love, no time to argue.” He said, but he was grinning like a little kid. You groaned in frustration, getting into the passenger’s seat and the car took off, speeding after Sciarra’s car. Harrison kept his eyes trained on the black Jaguar while you dug through the glove compartment. You smiled, finding an extra mag in there.

“How are you going to shoot bullets without a gun? And why is that mag so small?” Harrison asked. You laughed, slipping a hand under the slit in your dress to your inner thigh and pulling out a small gun from your hidden thigh holster that fit the mag perfectly. It wasn’t the ideal place for you to hide it, but the dress was so revealing, you really had no other choice. His eyes went wide, and the car swerved a bit.

“What? Did you think I didn’t have a gun on me?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, loading the gun and cocking it proudly. You didn’t want to hide your gun there, but seeing Harrison momentarily flustered by it was definitely a plus.

“Have I ever told you I’ll do anything for a girl in a gun?” He smirked, recovering smoothly, and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Well you’re pretty awful at following my orders, so I don’t believe you.” You replied, rolling down the window, “Keep her steady.”

“That’s the plan.” Harrison replied, keeping his focus on the car as you shot at Sciarra’s Jaguar. You would’ve hit the tire, but Harrison swerved the car and Sciarra’s men started to fire back at you two.

Cursing, you sat back in the car, rolling up the bulletproof window. You pressed a couple buttons on the center console, accessing the DB10’s machine gun controls. As Harrison attempted to dodge the oncoming cars and maneuver a way closer to the Jaguar, you aimed for the tires. 

“You’re an awful driver.” You stated, missing a couple shots from Harrison’s unsteady.

“I’d like to see you do better.” He chuckled, taking a sharp turn to follow the black car ahead. Finally on a straight, you took the shot, clipping the Jaguar’s tire and sending the car flipping. Harrison haphazardly pulled the DB10 to a stop beside the wrecked car. You kept your gun at the ready as he went to drag Sciarra out of the wreck. One of the surviving henchmen shot at you and, instinctively, you fired back while Harrison tugged the weak Sciarra from the car.

“Where’s Goldfinger?” Harrison questioned, holding up the dealer by his blood-spattered collar. You took the opportunity to look in the car quickly. Spotting a gold flash drive on the floor, you snatched it up and returned to your partner’s side.

“I don’t know!” Sciarra shouted, seething in anger.

“Osterfield, not here.” You said. He looked at you, his blue eyes instantly catching your warning look. The sirens in the distance told you cops were approaching and having Sciarra so vulnerable and out in the open like this would definitely entice the sniper, whoever she was.

“How do we get to Goldfinger? This?” Harrison lifted up Sciarra’s hand to draw attention to the flashy silver ring on his finger. You held your gun steady as your partner walked, more so dragged, Sciarra back to your car.

“I don’t know him. He just pays me in bullions whenever I ship him weapons. I’ve never met the guy!” Sciarra attempted to defend himself as you opened the car door. “He’s only trying to kill me because-“

A loud gunshot went off and Sciarra fell limp in Harrison’s hand, blood spattering as the sniper shot him in the head. You and Harrison quickly moved to get in the car.

“Fucking snipers.” Harrison grumbled, throwing open the driver door and hopping inside. You were just a moment too slow, the sniper clipping your left arm as you got into the car. You applied pressure to your arm, trying to remain calm until you got back to the hotel room, where you knew you had the supplies to dig out the bullet. It wasn’t the first time you’d been shot before, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Did you get shot?” Harrison almost sounded worried as he raced the DB10 down the street, trying to create an untraceable path back to the hotel.

“No, my left arm is just cold.” You sarcastically said. “Yes, I got shot.”

“You can’t walk through a hotel with a bullet hole.”

“I know, genius.” You rolled your eyes, and he pulled up to the hotel. It was nice that Q had made the car bulletproof or else there would be plenty of evidence of the car chase you both were just a part of. Before the valet could come out to retrieve the car, Harrison shook off his suit jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, and the two of you got out of the car. You kept your hand underneath the jacket and over your wound, and Harrison wrapped an arm around your shoulder, acting like he was just being a good guy helping out the cold girl. 

Silently, you two made your way to the elevator, taking it up to your floor. Harrison held the hotel room door open for you, and you immediately went to the medical bag, fumbling through it to find the right supplies.

“Let me help.” He said, stepping beside you and helping you get out what Q so kindly named “the bullet hole kit” complete with the proper supplies for disinfecting and stitching. You sat on the bathroom counter as Harrison quietly worked on your arm.

“Ow!” You shouted, tensing while he tried to get the bullet out. “That hurts!”

“Stop moving, and it’ll hurt less.” He replied as if it was obvious. “Have you never been shot before?”

“Once. In the hip, but it was four years ago.” The room fell quiet as you waited for him to respond.

“I’ve never.” Harrison’s voice was just barely above a whisper. You inhaled a sharp breath as he finally removed the bullet. “What happened with yours?”

“I missed a

 shot.” You said, and Harrison stepped back to look at you fully. His eyes filled with an unreadable emotion for you, perhaps pity that the best agent had missed.

“Well, did you shoot the bastard back?” He asked, bringing out the wipes to clean the bullet-free wound.

“Yeah.” And there was the silence again. You knew he wanted to ask what happened, why you had missed the shot, but the question never came.

That comfortable silence, save for a few grunts of pain on your part, lasted until after Harrison had stitched up your arm. His fingers gently traced over the pained area, “There.”

It wasn’t until he raised his head, his eyes reaching yours, that you realized just how intimately close you two were. Your lips parted as you tried to steady your breathing, feeling his hand fall to yours. His fingers lightly tapping against your own. You cleared your throat, leaning back away from him, “I should get some rest.”

“Right.” Harrison stepped back away from you and turned to clean up the rest of the medical supplies. You got off the counter and left to grab a change of clothes from your suitcase.

“Bathroom’s free.” He announced, exiting the en suite bathroom with the medical bag. You quietly excused yourself to go get changed out of your fashionable red dress.

As you looked at your arm in the mirror, you let out a small sigh. That was definitely going to scar, but maybe it’d add to the seductress mystery.

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex​ @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart​ @joyleenl​ @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​ @sleepybesson​ @sunkisseddreamer​ 

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland​ @where-art-thau-romeo​

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes​

[thedetectivessay]

"Case 002: Family Affairs"

A Busted fanfic

010.

Undisclosed Alley

Gangnam, South Korea

It’s a miracle to Kwang-soo that he and Jong-min are still alive. Both of them seem to have stopped breathing nearly an hour ago after the goons in suits appeared up the street. Jae-wook has told them that their very lives now depended on them being very quiet and very unseen, and terrified out of their wits (and the very, veryreal guns sticking out of the men’s holsters) they have withheld even a necessary thing such as air from themselves.

“Hyung,” Jong-min says so quietly as he continues to sink into the front passenger seat. “Are – are you sure they can’t see us?”

“Windows are heavily tinted, and we’re nearly fourand a half blocks away from them,” Jae-wook says coolly, eyes straight ahead to their marks. Though discreet, Kwang-soo thinks he’s still a little too loud. He won’t be the one to say that to him, though. “As long as we stay put and not draw attention, I doubt they’d know about us.”

Jong-min only swallows – a reaction Kwang-soo fully understands.

“Hyung, how long do you think it’ll take Poet to get here?” Kwang-soo asks.

That begets a cutting glare from the former police officer. “How many times will you ask me?” Jae-wook says. “I told you both earlier that this will be a stakeout. That means we could be here the whole night. Instead of asking me questions, why don’t you look at the street behind us to see if there are any cars approaching?”

Jong-min gives him a sympathetic glance once Jae-wook peers into a binocular. The two of them got stuck with this assignment because Jae-wook decided earlier that they were going to come with him. They’ve been dreading it since – and so far it looks like they were correct to feel that way towards it.

Once Jong-min turns back around, Kwang-soo does as he’s told. He looks through the streets behind them for any signs of life. Quickly, he concludes that it’s a drearier, less exciting version of their view blocks ahead. The street lights cast a melancholic glow on a forgotten piece of Gangnam. The backdrop of a dark and nearly starless sky depreciates the already dismal scenery even more.

Eventually, he tires of the chore and pulls out his phone. He’s tempted to text Min-young, to tell her how everything is driving him crazy. However, he realizes that it won’t be fair to involve her in this. She already did her share of the dangerous and the tedious that morning. No need to drag her back in.

“He’s here.”

It’s nearly half an hour later when Jae-wook says that. Sitting up, Kwang-soo sees that as their group stirs to life, Poet’s friends are also awakened. He leans forward, careful not to bump into the touchy former agent.

It’s then he notices Jong-min asleep.

As a token of appreciation for his sympathy, he taps him awake before Jae-wook can notice.

“Poet’s got a couple of his men with him, but they’re outnumbered by whoever he’s meeting with,” Jae-wook reports as he tunes in with his binoculars. He smirks. “Whoever they are, they’re not happy that it took him a long time to get here.”

“Do you know what they’re saying, hyung?” Jong-min asks.

“How could I know? It’s not like we bugged the alley.”

“Bug?”

Jae-wook says nothing.

“A listening device, hyung,” Kwang-soo tells Jong-min. “Like the one that cops use.”

“Ah,” Jong-min nods. “But, Detective Ahn, if we can’t get near them, how is this going to help our search of Lee Soon-jae?”

“Because he might appear in one of the places Poet goes,” Jae-wook answers. “If he knows where he might be, he will eventually lead us to him.”

“But he told us he doesn’t know who he is.”

That time, Jong-min gets the glare. “He’s a criminal. You believe him?” Kwang-soo looks at Jong-min sympathetically. It’s been nearly three days since the six of them reunited. Yet, even with that much time, none of them really know what had made Jae-wook so sour and bossy. The latter, they guess he has the right over since he’s the oldest, but why did he always have to be so mean?

“Some of the guys in suits had just been sent out to check cars. Poet must have told them he’s been arrested last night,” Jae-wook informs the two. “We’re far away enough that they probably won’t even get here. But in case they did, get ready to cover up.”

True to his words, they watch as two pairs are directed – one towards the left and one towards their direction. A couple of others spread out in alleys to search just in case.

Like they did in the beginning, Kwang-soo holds his breath. He had only seen guns up close twice in his life (at least to memory): one with Yeon-seok and the other with their military client. He knows what usually happens when they appear. If he has to suffocate just to avoid the same outcome that M and the music producer had, he will endure it.

“The leader of the gang’s nagging at Poet,” Jae-wook reports. “Drug dealers usually get paranoid when one of their distributors gets caught. There’s always a good chance they got flipped into an informant.”

“They’re not going to kill him, right?” Jong-min asks.

Jae-wook shakes his head. “I don’t know. Probably not. A hoobae told me that Poet’s one of the top dealers out there. They’ve been trying to catch him for nearly two years now. The tip that they received last night was the break the drug task force needed to finally arrest him.”

Kwang-soo knows Jong-min is also thinking about their theory regarding Jae-wook. “Tip?” he tests.

“Yeah. Someone told them that Poet is at Club Neon.”

Jae-wook’s apathy doesn’t improve their suspicion any. Of course he would not acknowledge the slip he made. Admitting to that impulsive move would mean telling the group he’s unfit to lead, and if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed with Jae-wook, it’s that he knows what his age and status should afford.

“Why was he released?” Jong-min asks instead. “They have all the proof they needed to prove he’s guilty.”

Jae-wook shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe he did become an informant.”

“Overnight?”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes even some of the most loyal of these criminals cave in when you offer them a cozy prison sentence.” Then, a moment later he mutters, “Sometimes even a seemingly good guy can become an adversary, too – if they’re dumb enough.”

They jump when someone taps loudly on Jong-min’s window. Looking up, they see it’s a man wearing a suit.

He’s using a gun to tap on the window. “Hey. Open up,” the man demands.

“Hyung,” Jong-min says, barely breathing as he leans away from the shadow. “What do we do?”

“Yah, did you not hear me?” The man taps on the glass with the barrel of the weapon. “Open this!”

Jae-wook takes a deep breath. He slips the binoculars under his seat. “What else?” he says as the man threatens to shoot them. “We roll the window down.” The window hums as it lowers, revealing what must be faces drained of any color.

“You a cop?” the man asks.

“Aniyo.” Jae-wook leans over, his facial expression surprisingly serene and friendly. “We just pulled in; we live at the house right there. My wife asked me to run to the store and get something, but they’re closed. We’re just getting back home.”

The man observes the two closely for an extremely long and uncomfortable moment. Then, he chuckles. “You’re lying.” He tilts his head. “Get out of the car.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Either your lives end where you sit, or you get a fighting chance. You two – ” he gestures at them with the mouth of the gun, “get out of the car.”

Kwang-soo only realizes then how far he’s leaning back into his seat. He watches as Jae-wook and Jong-min step out in dread. His heart is beating so fast and so loudly that he thinks that it booms like festival percussions through the whole street.

He thinks about calling 112, to call for cops, but he’s frozen. If he moves, the men outside might realize that a third person is inside, and all their chances of survival would be gone.

But if he doesn’t move and his hyungs die on his watch...

He shouldn’t have left the Philippines. It was lonely and hot and friendless, but at least he’s safe. He’s safe, and Jae-wook and Jong-min are safe.

The commotion has called the attention of the party ahead. Not even a minute after, Jae-wook and Jong-min are surrounded by Poet’s men and the gang. “Hyungnim,” the man reports, “I think these two have been watching us.”

“Must be cops,” the leader of the gang says. He turns to Poet and chides, “So I was right: you did turn against us.”

“No, hyungnim! No! Please believe me,” Poet begs desperately. “I – I don’t know these men. I have never seen them!”

“You haven’t seen them.”

“No.”

The leader ponders about it a moment. Then, he turns to one of Poet’s men. “You tell me the truth, I don’t shoot you.” He nods at Jae-wook and Jong-min. “Have you guys really not seen them before?”

Poet’s people exchange glances. They know what will happen if they say anything contrary to what Poet has said: their boss dies, but they would be hunted down by the rest of their crew.

Still, despite knowing this, one of his men cautions another glance at the men in question. His eyes lock on Jong-min a while, and then he points at him. “Hyung,” he tells his boss quietly. “This man. He was there last night.”

Poet looks up at Jong-min, and this time recognition comes to his face. “The new buyer with the pretty girlfriend,” he mutters. He steps closer to Jong-min. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...”

“Were you a cop all this time?”

“No.”

Poet scoffs. “I knew it. You were asking some weird questions last night.”

“So you have seen him before?” the leader of the gang asks.

The fear returns to Poet. “Yes,” he says, “but he was there as a buyer. I didn’t know he was a cop.”

“We’re not cops,” Jae-wook says.

The leader of the gang sighs. He nods to his men. “Look around, make sure no one else is with them,” he instructs. Once a couple leave, he looks at Poet. “You spineless weasel. I knew one day you’d do this.”

“No, hyungnim,” Poet begs. “Please – ”

“You know the boss doesn’t tolerate traitors in his business.” He clicks his tongue, as if only upset by an annoying but relatively insignificant loss. He draws out his gun from his holster. “Sadly, I still have use of you yet. You said this man has a girlfriend. If you take care of her for me by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll give you a running head start of three hours. If you don’t, you’ll be the third person they’d read in the papers tomorrow.”

“T-third?”

The leader hands him the gun. He nods at Jae-wook and Jong-min. “Make it nice and clean,” he says as he steps back.

Poet hesitates a moment. He looks at the gun a while, and for a second it seems that he will refuse.

But then, the same predatory glint Kwangsoo’s seen in killers’ eyes before flashes brightly in Poet’s eyes. He raises the gun towards Jong-min.

Kwang-soo’s head spins. Min-young tomorrow, Jae-wook and Jong-min tonight. If he gets out, he can still warn Min-young and tell her to leave Korea as soon as possible. Yeon-seok can take her to safety.

But his hyungs – there’s nothing he can do for them. He will witness their murders, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do.

When his head bows a little, closing his eyes in extreme regret, one of the leader’s goons notices him. “Jamkamanyo,” he says, halting everything. He narrows his eyes. When Kwang-soo lifts his head and eyes up, he finds the man staring straight at him. “There’s another man in the car.”

All the spinning stops, and so does every motion within him. He watches in helpless dread as Jae-wook and Jong-min, who he now just noticed was blocking everyone’s view of his window, are pulled away to give the leader a good look of the silhouette in the car.

The leader frowns at him. Then, a long moment later, he chuckles. “Fourth,” he corrects himself, amused.

“Get out of the car,” one of his men instructs Kwang-soo. Kwang-soo flinches when the man pounds his fist against the window. “Now!”

The leader holds up a hand to the man. “Maybe he’d rather be found later at the bottom of the river. We can make that happen.” He hisses as he pretends to think. “That might take decades, though. They don’t really find anyone unless they know specifically where to look.”

Kwang-soo forces himself to take a deep breath. He’s shaking terribly, and his knees don’t feel like they’re functional anymore. But he has to get out. He can’t just let his colleagues – his only family – die because of him.

If they’re to die tonight, at least they should die together.

With another breath, he pulls on the door handle and, as composedly as he can manage, he steps out.

The night is colder outside the car, but the hostility from Poet, his men, and the others burn hot against him. He looks at Jae-wook and Jong-min, and in their eyes, above all other emotions, he sees the realization that this is it for them.

Which is why he fails to notice the look of surprise in the gang leader’s face. The leader bows to him. “Hyungnim!” he greets. “I’m sorry, hyungnim. I didn’t know it was you!”

Like the rest of the others, Kwang-soo stares on, confused. He thinks for a moment that it’s just a cruel joke. The leader would rise and kill them himself.

However, all the leader does is stand back up and smile at him as if to curry favor. He then notices that the others with him aren’t moving. With a glare, he tells them, “Do you all want to die? Show our hyungnim some respect! Greet him!”

With this command, the other men bow. Even Poet, who looks suspicious and resentful, does the same.

The leader approaches Kwang-soo’s side, suddenly docile and friendly. “You don’t remember me, hyungnim? It’s Chan-seok. We’ve had drinks a couple of times before,” he says. When Kwang-soo only stares at him blankly, he chuckles awkwardly. “Of course it’s been years. What brought you by? Are you checking to see if we’re handling the business well?”

Kwang-soo blinks. He looks around. All the scorching fire from earlier has turned into a warming flame.

He looks at Jae-wook and Jong-min. All he sees now is confusion. What case did we just actually agree to work? he wonders as he thinks of the two strangers who claim to know him and this shocking immunity to death that he finds wherever he goes.

[possiamo-andare]

No More Divisions - Chapter Five: When's It Gonna Get Easier?

JJ x Original Character

MASTERLIST

I'd like to thank everyone for the likes and words of encouragement so far. I'm not the most talented writer and this is my first time ever writing anything (let alone publishing it) and it blows me away the messages I'm getting say they love it. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to @outerbankswriting who is literally the person who should be following. Their work unbelievable and they deserve all the love <3

~

There is so much to do today and no time to do it. You ever heard if the saying Rome wasn't built in a day? Well, the Romans got one thing right; you can't do everything in one day, there's just no time.

By the time we pick up Pope and get to the garage where JJ's dad's boat is, it's almost noon. I can already guess that by the time we stock up all of the essentials we brought along, attach it to Kiara's car and drive it back to the dock, it'll basically be 3pm. We all recognize how every minute counts and none of us waste time by joking around. We get straight to work.

Kiara and I transfer all of the food from the bins to storage containers inside the boat, where all of the food can be refrigerated. This takes quite a while since most of the food is in cans or packaging and there's only so many storage containers on the boat so we find ourselves rearranging the food many times so it all can fit properly.

JJ and Pope fill up the boat with gas and store the rest someone on the deck, hoping the amount of gas Pope got was enough. It's not like he had time to go back and get more since his dad was literally right behind him.

After most of the work is done, besides cleaning the deck and making sure all of the controls are in shape for riding, we take a break. Kiara brings out the extra food that wouldn't fit in the container and it's just enough for lunch. I know we're on a time limit but I have to eat or else I'll faint.

As we prepare our sandwiches, JJ starts telling this stupid story that is grossly inappropriate. We all are laughing anyways because it's JJ and he just has a way of telling stories. Once he gets to the punchline we're all laughing hysterically at him because, of course, it's stupid but it completely something I see JJ saying. I look over to Pope, expecting him to be shaking his head in disapproval but laughing at the same time, but he isn't. In fact, I don't think he's heard JJ's joke at all. Pope is staring at his feet as he sits cross legged on the floor, eating his sandwich. He looks like he's in a trance and I'm a little concerned.

"Pope, you okay?" I ask, the laughter dying down and all of our eyes shifting to Pope.

"Do you think he'll disown me?" Pope asked, his voice almost cold. He continued to look down at the floor and didn't dare look at any of us.

"What?" JJ scoffed, scooting closer to Pope and putting his arm around him. "Your dad loves you more than anything. Sure, he's pissed off now but he'll get over it."

JJ looks to me and I smile at him. I would have never guessed for JJ to be the sentimental, mushy type of guy but he definitely is.

"I mean, you're probably gonna be grounded until you're 30." JJ smirks, looking back to Pope who is now smiling.

I'm smiling too. I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. I look to Kiara and she does the same. We're both thinking the same thing; what a privilege it is to be JJ's friend.

We soon get back to work, moping the deck and cleaning up the rooms below deck, which are filled with cobwebs. This boat must be old and I'd be surprised if there wasn't something wrong with the engine. Once I'm done my part, I check on Kiara who is still mopping. I ask her if she needs any help and she tells me she doesn't but I should go check on Pope and JJ since they're the ones checking out the engine.

When I get there, they're arguing. These guys are so confusing. Thirty minutes ago they were best pals and now they're arguing about the engine.

"Girls, girls," I sarcastically say as I walk up to them. "What seems to be the problem?"

JJ rolls his eyes at me and Pope smirks.

"Nothing, I just don't think this boat will last twenty minutes in the water and JJ believes in a higher power that says it will." Pope answers, glaring at JJ for a moment before looking back at me.

I look to JJ, my face clearly very judgemental. "Not to shame, but higher power?"

JJ rolls his eyes. "I know it sounds dumb but it seriously works. When I used to use this beauty, I used to almost always run out of gas but somehow every time there would just enough to get me home."

I smile, not wanting to make fun of him but still not believing him. I look to Pope. "Got a better idea than the one we have?"

Pope sighs and shakes his head. "Nah."

I smirk. "Then it's settled, we're using JJ's demonic boat -"

"Hey! Not demonic, just a higher power!"

"- to help John B. If anything happens, we'll blame it on JJ."

Pope snickers and raises his hand to me so I can give him a high five. "You're my favourite."

"Is it make fun of JJ day?" JJ shouts, a little exasperated from what's unfolding in front of him.

"Nah, it's beat the shit out of JJ day?" A voice from behind me says.

I pivot around quickly, seeing the face I hate for a second time today. It's Rafe, and this time he's brought someone different. I don't recognize him. He's a short guy with longish brown hair. He's pretty muscular and is probably around Rafe's age. I thought I knew all of Rafe's friends but I guess he got this one after we broke up.

"Rafe..." I spit, angrily taking a step forward to him. "What are you doing?" Why does this guy always show up at the wrong times? Oh right, I remind myself, it's because I'm a witness to his murder.

His friend walks over to JJ and Pope, who are now on high alert. Do they know him too? Why am I always the last one to know stuff?

"I'm coming to bring you back." He says, forcefully grabbing onto my wrist.

I look behind me and see JJ being held back by Rafe's friend. He's pushing and shoving the guy to get to me. He's trying his best and it's not working until Pope steps in and helps. He leaps onto the guy's back and starts punching. This lets JJ free and he's quickly racing towards me.

"Get away from her." JJ says, grabbing my wrist and pulling it out of Rafe's grip fast.

Rafe snorts. "Get the fuck outta my way stupid."

JJ laughs bitterly. "What are you gonna do? Beat me with your money?"

Before it was JJ standing in between Rafe and I but now it's the opposite. I'm trying to squeeze my way through Rafe and JJ so I can get between them but they won't let me.

"No. I'm gonna beat you worse than your old pop." Rafe spits back.

I can tell this has hit a nerve because JJ is taken aback for a second. I can't believe Rafe has gone there myself.

"Rafe, you -" I'm about to tell him off but I don't get a chance because JJ lunges towards Rafe, his fist coming in contact with Rafe's face.

All this yelling gets Kiara's attention and she's off the boat and kicking the guy Pope is fighting faster than I've ever seen a human move. She's punching and kicking the guy and although it's not doing much damage, it is distracting him enough for Pope to get the jump on him.

I look back to Rafe and JJ and see them fighting still. One person swings and someone dodges it and then the next. I hate physical fighting so much so I put a stop to it the only way I could; I jump onto Rafe's back and put my hands over his eyes so he can't see.

"What the hell?!" He yells, trying to grab my hands and pull them off his eyes.

JJ gets a few punches to the stomach before Rafe can successfully get my hands off his eyes. Once I get off Rafe, he hunches over and looks like he might get sick. I want to yell at him and say things I'll regret but I don't get a chance to because JJ is rushing towards me, making sure I'm okay.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, cupping my face in his hands.

I shake my head, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "I just wanna leave now." It's been too long of a day and I need to leave. I can't stand being in the same place as Rafe.

JJ nods and leans forward, kissing my forehead. I look up at him and our noses are touching. I feel the strong urge to kiss him again and -

CLANG!

There's a loud bang behind us and we look to the right to see Kiara pulling Pope away from Rafe's friend whose face is so bloody now that he's almost unrecognizable. JJ and I were so caught up in each other, we forgot the look out for our friends.

We rush over to Kiara and Pope, who are arguing about how Pope should've stopped a long time ago. I hug Kiara to try and calm her down while JJ checks the guys pulse. When he gives us a thumbs up, we all breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why'd you do that for?" Kiara yells at Pope, still holding onto me.

Pope rolls his eyes at her. "He stole from us and tried to beat us up right now. He's a fucking drug dealer!"

I gasp. That's how Rafe knows him; this guy is Rafe's drug dealer. Now I want my turn with this guy.

"So you almost kill him?!" Kiara screams back, holding onto me for dear life. I don't think she can take this insanity any longer. Even Pope is breaking. I can see it in his behavior. I haven't known Pope for long or as well as his other friends, but I can see he's slowly becoming another person entirely. Almost unhinged.

Pope rolls his eyes and storms off, getting into Kiara's car. Kiara looks at me and cries, exasperated from the events that have unfolded.

I let her get into the car as well and close the door. Kiara seems very out of it right now and to be honest so am I. I'm just trying to survive and roll with the punches and figure out how I feel later.

Before I get into the car, I look to Rafe who is still groaning and holding his stomach. I feel a small amount of pity for him. Rafe is living proof that being rich doesn't mean you're exempt from bad shit happening to you.

With one last glance I get into the driver's seat beside JJ and I pull out of the garage. It's the last step of our plan and its 2pm. I hope we get there before John B. and Sarah so we have time to get the boat in the water. Hopefully there won't be any more set backs.

As I drive, I glance to JJ who seems to be lost into thought. His brows are scrunched together and he's been looking out the window for five minutes now.

"You okay?" I ask, taking one of my hands off the steering wheel to grab his hand.

JJ looks at our hands intertwined and then looks at me. "Do you know when life's gonna get easier?"

I frown. "Hopefully soon."

And, to be honest, I was never sure if life was ever gonna get easier after this.

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 2 (d.d)

A/N: i’m sorry this is so short ): i think it’s a vibe tho. enjoy. talk to me while you read & let me know what you think. love u. thank u for reading. grateful for y’allllllll

WC: 5.1k

You see David again a week after you give him your first handjob, and it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve begun texting each other – about anything and everything. He texts you on his lunch breaks, when he gets off of work, when he’s going into work, when he’s bored, before he goes to sleep – you name it. You text him when work is slow, in the middle of church, during the weekly family dinner at your parents’, anytime — constantly attempting to see each other. 

 At noon, David texts you while you’re about to go on lunch break, usually an uneventful hour:

 It’s so slow rn. Come see me whenever you go on break. Pls. I’m losing my mind. This old woman won’t stop hitting on me. All she wants are mimosas.

 Of course, you tell him you will. Why sit in the break room and waste your own time when you can go see him? 

 He had mentioned to you in passing where he bartends; a few streets up and over, but not too far – speed walking distance if you wanted to see him for longer than thirty minutes. 

 You make it as quickly as you can, composing yourself before opening the door. As soon as David gains sight of you, the look on his face indicates you saved him from a bartender’s Hell. He fakes an excuse to the woman, the only other person in the bar, to come speak with you. He leans against it when he’s in front of you, eyes on yours.

 “Hi, baby. Do I need to card you?” he asks, watching the familiar blush spread across your cheeks, “It’s so good to see you. What are you drinking?”

 “I’m still working!” you excuse, bitching him out playfully, “Nothing!” 

 “That’s no fun,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s on me. What do you want? Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll pick.” 

 “By the way, that’s what you wear to work?” David questions, looking you up and down approvingly as he pours a shot for you, “Sexy.” 

 “If I take a shot, you have to take a shot, too,” you bargain with him, ignoring his comment as you blush even more, “We’re both working!”

 “The only way I can drink on the job is if you buy it for me,” he explains, looking around the room and the older woman, “buuuut...is anyone looking? And I’m not the lightweight here, remember?” he chuckles, “Miss Two Drinks and I’m Drunk.”

 You flush as he places your glass on the bar, “It’s tequila. Salt on the back of your hand, honey.” 

 “I know how to do a shot of tequila,” you gripe, eyes rolling as you lick the back of your hand, “Just ‘cause I’m a virgin doesn't mean-”

 “Okay,” he shrugs rudely, not caring about your defense, “Just do the shot, baby. Cheers.”

 “Cheers.”

 You clink your glasses and David’s eyes follow your tongue when you dump some salt on top of the wet skin. You lick at it, meeting his eyes and downing it. You reach for the lime and suck on it as he finishes his, taking your glass from you.

 “When can I see you again?” you ask, gazing at him as he leans against the counter, “I’m off at five.” 

 “I’m off at six. You wanna go dealing with me tonight? I need some company, and we can go back to my place afterwards,” he questions, eyes on yours, “You can weigh everybody’s shit for me and split it up.” 

 “Okay,” you agree, slightly excited at the prospect, “Do you want me to come back here when I get off?” 

 “Yes,” David replies, “I’m getting you high afterwards, though. Don’t say no. I’ll give you, like, the whole experience. Are you working tomorrow?”

 You shake your head, blushing, before he responds, “Great. Me either, so you’re spending the night.” 

 You gape at him, “I don’t have my stuff-”

 “I’ll take you by your place beforehand,” David offers, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Stop stressing, baby.”

 You sigh, hating how many hearts are filling your eyes as you gaze at him and hating that you have to leave, “Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you in a few.”

 He tells you to wait, slipping out from behind the bar and leaning his head down, kissing you. “Okay. You can go now. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck with that one over there.” 

 ++

 Five-thirty seems to be around the time the bar is getting busier due to everyone getting off of work, and the stress on David’s face is evident. He hasn't even noticed your arrival yet, attempting to keep polite conversation with his customers. 

 Six rolls around and he’s immediately clocking out, gruffly wishing his coworker good luck and making his way over to you, “Sorry, sweetheart. Fucking busy tonight. Let’s get out of here.” 

 You do, and David’s immediately lighting a cigarette and unbuttoning his black dress shirt as soon as you step outside. He had rolled the sleeves up since you last saw him, and he slips the garment off while his cigarettes and lighter are still in his hands and out of his breast pocket. 

 His black t-shirt remains, tucked into his slacks which are secured with a belt. He’s guiding you to his car silently for a few minutes, tossing out his cigarette before unlocking the vehicle and climbing in. 

 “I gotta shower before I do anything else,” David tells you, starting the car and pulling out of his spot, “It’s been like that in there since three. I’ve been sweating like a bitch; I feel disgusting.” He casually rests his free hand on the inside of your thigh as he drives, leading the small talk – as he always does. 

 David doesn’t mind being the talkative one; he likes bringing up subjects that are taboo to you, watching you refuse to meet his eyes and blush as he presses the topic, becoming more detailed as he speaks. 

 He usually goes until you tell him to stop, reacting with an affectionate rub at the skin of your thighs, “Sorry, baby, you know I like seeing you get all worked up and not know what to do about it.”

 Once at his place, he quickly showers and changes while you patiently wait on him. It takes him ten minutes, tops, before he’s ready to go. 

 “Alright,” David says casually, grabbing his keys and motioning to his bedroom door, “Come here, follow me. My roommates and I all deal at least a little bit — I’m the best one of all of us — so this is where we keep our shit.” He takes you into another bedroom, turning the lights on and pulling out his phone.

 “Okay, baby,” he sighs, “This is the part that sucks. We gotta go through what everyone wants and weigh this shit. I don’t like weighing as we go. It’s time consuming. It’s gonna take some time. Let me explain how this works. Hand me that bag.” 

 You do, grabbing it and passing it to him, “So, I’ve got a pretty big amount of this shit – for Chicago, at least. I buy from a guy who grows in Iowa, so I can get his bud for cheap and sell it for good cash here. Weed’s legal now, so it’s kind of fucking me up, but kids eighteen to twenty-one can’t buy, so they’re who I sell to the most. I don’t sell to minors — obviously.” 

 He continues, “This is a pound, and it’s the best weed I’ve had in a while. Here, in Chicago, this is worth two thousand.” 

 “Dollars?”

 “Yeah,” he laughs slightly, “I buy it for half that, but the most people usually buy at a time from me is an ounce. I go see him like, once a month? It depends on how much people are buying. It’s a long fucking trip and I always have to do it in one day because of work – maybe you can come with me next time I have to go.”

 “Anyway,” he sighs as you try to not think about how much money he must be making under the table, “We gotta do this, baby. Here’s the list of people and how much they want.” 

 Admittedly, he does all of the work, but talks you through the process and answers your questions. He weighs the weed and puts them in plastic bags according to size, writing their name and amount in Sharpie on the front.

 You get to a certain guy named Luke, and David reacts, “Oh, fuck Luke. He doesn't get the good shit and never will – I hate his stupid ass. I have a whole stash of shitty weed for him in the cabinet right there.”

 David weighs Luke’s weed and describes why it’s shitty and how you can tell, bitching about the kid, “He’s a fucking idiot, though. I overcharge him for terrible weed, and I get texts from him saying how good it is. It takes, like, an entire eighth to feel anything. He’s a rich white nineteen-year-old, so I don’t really feel bad about it.”’

 “So, how much will you make tonight?” you ask as he puts it all in one bag, sighing and doing the math in his head.

 “Fuck, I don’t know – six hundred? Six fifty? Maybe seven at the most? We can count it when we’re done,” he shrugs, “Let’s get going; it’s getting late. This is my favorite part.” 

 David goes down the list in his notes and calls them on speaker phone as he drives, script usually sounding the same for every person: “Hey, man. Do you want me to pull up or meet you somewhere? I can do either one.”

 Before he meets his first guy, David reaches over and gently tucks your crucifix into your shirt, slightly rubbing at it over your blouse affectionately, “Druggies are atheist shitheads. They’ll talk about it if they notice it. Keep it there until we’re done. I’m sorry.” 

 It’s too hot seeing him get out of his car, weed in the palm of his hand as he daps his customer up and sneakily slides the cash into his pocket before bidding them a polite farewell, keeping the conversation short. 

He has to make about fifteen stops before he’s completely done for the night; some of them ask about you, wondering your name and age, before David defends you, “Alright, bruh, just pay me. Stop hitting on my girl.” 

 After every time he says it, he feels the need to immediately apologize once you’re alone again: “Sorry again. I know you’re not my girl, but I know you don't want them trying to talk to you. It’s just easier to say you are. They’re not going to fuck with their dealer’s girlfriend – especially since you go to the parties, too.” 

 David’s parked outside of your apartment building as he quickly begins counting how much money he made, murmuring under his breath as his thumbs do all of the movement. He counts it in under ten seconds, passing the stack of cash to you, “Seven thirty-five. I was close – sold a little more. We didn't even sell that much, honestly.” 

 “Count it again,” you tell him, “I want to see that again.” 

 He chuckles, eyes glancing between you and the cash, biting at his lips as he quickly counts it again, “Seven thirty-five, baby.” 

 “Hot.”

 David laughs at you and stuffs the cash into the pocket of his shorts, “Let’s get your shit and go home, honey.” 

 It's his first time visiting your place, and he expects it to be littered with misplaced Bible references and at least semi-unorganized, but it's not: you’re as organized as he is and oddly, there’s no clear evidence of your beliefs – something which surprises the shit out of him for someone who wears a cross around their neck every single day. 

 He keeps his eyes mostly to himself as you rifle through your belongings in your room, glancing at your walls and around your living room.

 “Jesus, sweetheart, how long are you planning on staying?” He motions towards your bag once you come out, watching your eyes widen.

 “I mean...you’re saying could stay longer than tonight?” you suggest, bargaining, “Two nights. I’m off the next two days.”

 “Fine,” he gives in, eyes rolling and giggling at you slightly, “I work the day after next, but you can stay as long as you want to, baby. You’re always welcome.”  David takes a step towards you, kissing you quickly, “Put your clothes back. You’re gonna be wearing mine.”

 “No,” you resist, his hands coming to your waist, “Those are yours.” 

 “Put them back,” he repeats, kissing you, “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

 “Ugh,” you groan, listening to him and doing as you’re told – you love when he tells you what to do, and he knows it. It’s his favorite button to push. 

 You return to him, and his fingers gently tug the chain of your necklace out of your shirt, fixing it so the clasp sits at the nape of your neck. “Better. It feels wrong to see you without it.”

 ++

 David’s two roommates are home, now, and he briefly speaks with them with you standing at his side, his arm shamelessly thrown around your shoulders. 

 “Dave,” one of them calls out, “Come here. Dude. Ester called the house. Call her back.” 

 “What?” he replies, “Why the house? She has my number. Fuck, okay.” 

 You don't know who Ester is, and David sits on the couch, tugging you into his lap in front of them as he pulls his phone out. His roommates don’t seem to be paying you any mind as they watch TV and smoke, and you wonder how many other girls he’s brought home. 

 “Bro, she didn't even call my phone,” he states, rolling his eyes, “I didn't think she did. Me and Y/N were just out delivering for, like, two hours.” 

 “Oh, shit!” the other one exclaims, “You’re Y/N? Sick. Nice to meet you.”

 “Sorry, baby,” David apologizes quickly, dialing Ester and introducing you, “Dima. Ilya. Both are idiots and shitty dealers–”

 “Heeeey, Ester!” David’s tone changes immediately, “What’s up? Why’d you call the house and not me? Is something wrong?”

 You hear a voice on the other line, his arm draped around your waist as he listens, eyes rolling back, “No, Ester, I can't help you with your Precalc homework. I’m sorry, kid. You know that I took idiot classes in high school. You’ve always been smarter than me. Ask Dad! Or, better yet, why don't you just look it up?” 

 David shuffles slightly with you in his lap and lights a cig, letting you rest your head in his neck, “I’m sorry I can’t help you, honey. You know that I miss you. I want to come up next Friday...I’ll be off. Will everyone be home?” 

 It’s now obvious that he’s speaking to his sister as he listens to her chatter, absentmindedly rubbing at your back, his leg bouncing up and down, “Okay. I’ll be there. I promise. Tell Ma that I’m coming. I love you, Es. You know you can call me whenever. You’re my best friend.”

 He hangs up shortly afterwards, taking a drag from his cigarette and sighing, “Christ. Vernon Hills next week, you guys. It’s official. You fuckers are coming with me, so make sure you’re off,” David demands, motioning towards Dima and Ilya. 

 “Whatever,” he continues, standing and putting his cigarette out, pulling you with him, “We’ll be upstairs. Leave us alone – she’s staying the night and I’m off tomorrow.” 

 David daps both of them up, before Ilya speaks, “Sick. Have fun. Goodnight, bro.” 

 David quickly tells you to ignore him and leads you up to his room, shutting the door behind you. The first thing he does is rifle through his drawers, tossing clothes at you. He’s surprised at how quickly you react, requesting that he unzip the back of your dress.

 He does, slowly, pushing your hair away from your neck and patting your waist politely before removing his touch. You pull on his smallest pair of sweats, still having to tighten the draw string around your hips and slipping on one of his t-shirts. 

 You’re not sure why it feels so easy to be intimate with him in ways you never could with anyone else while only knowing of him for a few weeks; maybe it's how nonchalant he is, or how unabashed he is. Nothing is too embarrassing or unbearable for him, and it rubs off on you. 

 David’s polite, and doesn't judge you over things you’re ignorant about; he’s happy to explain and guide you if you want to know about what he does, and he fucks heavily with your eagerness to please him and learn. 

 He doesn't know if this will turn into casual hook ups or something more, he’s going to leave that up to you, but he enjoys your company and bashfulness. It makes his dick hard. 

 David casually makes out with you on his bed, hands to himself and not grabby, before pulling away and asking, “You wanna smoke?” 

 “Sure,” you reply, sitting up with him. He digs through his bedside table, muttering, “I’m gonna teach you how to roll. It takes a little bit of practice, I guess. I don’t know – I’ve been doing it for so long, I don't even pay attention anymore. Hand me that tray.” 

 You lie down on your stomach, facing him as he sits cross legged on his still-made bed. He breaks open a pack of Berry Dutch cigarillos with his teeth, "So, the first step is to split it. Some people can crack a blunt with just their hands. I can't. I need a blade for it." He grabs a razor blade from the tray before sliding the edge of the blade down the middle of the blunt precisely.

 "You want it to be a spliff or a blunt? You pick, I don't care," he asks you, watching your clueless features, clarifying, "A spliff has tobacco still mixed in with the weed, and a blunt is straight weed.”

 “Um,” you shrug, meeting his eyes, “Blunt, I guess.”

 "Okay," he replies, dumping tobacco onto the tray, "Scrape out the tobacco. I’ll clean it up later."

 David grabs his weed and his grinder, "Grind your weed down into shake – it takes, like, a gram or a gram and a half to fill up a blunt." He stuffs the grinder and closes it, twisting it and tapping the top.

 “I don't smoke what I sell,” he explains, “My personal stuff is from one of my buddies in Vernon Hills.”

 “Oh,” you reply confusedly, “Why not?”

 “‘Cause Biggie said not to,” David shrugs, quoting, “‘Rule Number Four: I know you heard this before, ‘Never get high on your own supply.’ You know, like, Scarface?” 

 “...What are the other rules?” You ask, not getting it.

 He chuckles, scoffing slightly, “Later, babe.”

 “Anyway,” he says, getting back to the subject, “Some people put in a filter at the front, but...I don't have time for that. I’m too impatient for it," he explains, "Hold the blunt wrap and dump it, but make it even."

 He spreads out the shake into the blunt while flattening it against the tray, folding the seams over each other, "Roll."

 "You lick," he demands, leaning down and holding up the edge for you to lick, "Along the line. Not too much, though. Just enough."

 You obey and he watches your tongue, making a soft noise at the sight, "Goooood. Now, we stick it."

 David sticks the seams together, folding and pressing them together, "Okay, now you bake it, baby."

 He fumbles for his lighter, a fancy refillable Zippo, flipping it open and running it over the sides to ensure they stay conjoined. He puts it between his lips, lighting it and blowing out the flame at the end.

 David hits it, placing the tray on the floor by his bed, passing it to you, “Done. It’s pretty easy, just remember: split, empty, grind, stuff, roll, lick, stick, and bake.” 

 You get better at hitting it by yourself every time you smoke with him, exhaling easily as you scoot over to him. You pass it back to David as he lies against his headboard, tugging you into his chest and placing his hand on your waist. 

 “David,” you say after a few minutes of passing it back and forth, him grunting out a Hmm? a response, “Um. You asked me last week what I like. I don't know, but what do you like?” 

 “I’m not telling you yet,” he stifles a laugh, moving to put the roach out in an ashtray on his nightstand, “‘Cause I don't want you to like something just ‘cause I do. You wanna find out what you like?” 

 “Yeah,” you nod, blushing, “For you.” 

 “Okay,” he gives in, shrugging, “Can I touch you?” 

 You nod as he sits up and stands from the bed, “Whatever you wanna do. Go ahead.” 

 David tells you to stay where you are, rubbing at his eyes and grabbing his laptop, tossing it on his bed in front of you, “We’re gonna watch porn. Take the sweats off.” 

 “Wait-,” you say nervously, chewing at your lips, “Nevermind. Okay.” You obey him, untying the string and pushing the garment past your hips, already nervous. 

 “Don’t get anxious, baby,” David reassures as he climbs into bed with you again, “I’ve got you – this is just the easiest way to find out. Sit between my legs.” 

 He leans his head over your shoulder and logs into PornHub, wrapping one of his arms around your torso comfortingly as he feels you already blush against him. You’re visibly mortified as he clicks a video in his recommended tab, his free hand coming to palm you over your underwear. 

 You make a slight noise before he hushes you quietly, “Watch. Don’t touch yourself.” 

 David doesn't move his hand as he reads your body language, not watching the video at all as you buck up into his touch. “You like that or you like me touching you?” 

 “You,” you reply, clearing your throat and repeating yourself, “You.”

 “Stop thinking about me being here,” he advises, voice gruff behind you, “Think about me doing the things to you that they’re doing. Think how you would if I wasn't here. Got it?”

 You nod against him, eyes on the screen as he holds you close to him, your back pressed against his torso. Your breath becomes heavy as you watch the man eat the woman out and finger her, wanting it to be you and David. Your pussy must be thinking the same thing you are as you involuntarily twitch and clench against his touch.

 David murmurs in approval, “Good. Just like that, baby.” 

 He switches to another video, a deep throatfuck, and watches your face as the woman gags around her partner – lips parted and breathing heavily. Again, you want it to be you and David, but you tell him this time, cheeks red: “I wanna be able to do that for you.” 

 “We can work up to that,” he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck, “I like that too.” 

 “That’s enough of that for now,” David says, reaching forward and shutting the computer, “We can do it again tomorrow. We’re not done – I want to touch you.” 

 He breathes over your shoulder, muttering and tugging at the waistband of your underwear, “But can you take these off for me?” 

 You do, slipping them down your thighs and legs before he moves from behind you. David props you against the pillows, where he was, and lies on his stomach between your legs, scooting himself closer.

 “Jesus fucking Christ,” he comments as his eyes land on your pussy, gasping softly and glancing back up at you, “Can I touch you?” 

 You say a quiet yeah before his fingers are spreading your pussy apart delicately with one hand, the other arm wrapping around one of your thighs. He places his free hand on top of your stomach affectionately, eyes flitting between you and your pussy. 

 “Oh, God,” David says to himself, fingertips running over your folds and collecting your slick. You’re so wet he can hear every move his fingers take, and David takes it upon himself to press kisses up along the inside of your thigh, meeting your eyes and watching your face as he slips his middle finger inside of you.

 There's so much resistance that, even with your wetness, he can barely get it inside of you. He watches your mouth drop open silently in response, before he speaks, “Holy fuck. I don't know what I was expecting, but you’re so tight.”

 “If it hurts at any point, tell me,” he advises, moving his arm from around you to spread you apart again, still in disbelief at the sight, “Fuck me.”

 You’re embarrassed as he spits on you for more lube, spreading it around and rubbing it in before trying to move his finger again. You gasp as he hits the knuckle and he glances up at you quickly, not saying anything – he knows the difference between a good and a bad gasp.

 “Jesus,” David advises, pulling his finger out slowly and spreading you apart, “I can literally see your…”

 He cuts himself off and trails, not wanting to finish his sentence, moving from between your legs and into his nightstand. You make a noise before he hushes you, “Shh. Give me a sec. I’m not done. This’ll make it easier.” 

 He grabs lube and settles between your thighs once more, putting some on his fingers and beginning to touch you, “It doesn't even look like you touch yourself.” 

 “I don’t,” you admit, embarrassed as he gapes at you slightly.

 “Oh, my God,” he says simply, slipping his middle finger in easier this time, “So you’ve never cum?” 

 You shake your head and he exhales sharply, beginning to move it in and out, “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t be nervous.” 

 “Relax, babygirl. You’re too tense right now – even with the weed,” he comments, still working, “Stop thinking so much.” 

 You sigh and nod, trying to relax yourself, but it doesn't work, and David pulls away entirely, “Now’s not a good time.” 

 “What? Yes-” you attempt to reply before he cuts you off, shaking his head.

 “No. It’s not,” he moves to lie next to you as you slip the sweats back on, kissing your forehead, “It’s okay. It’s not a bad thing, I promise. You’re just super in your head right now. We can try again later.” 

 “Ugh, I just want to be able to-”

 “I know,” he replies, moving to light a cigarette, “I know, honey. We’re both high, though – maybe when we’re sober.” 

 You move to rest your head in his neck as he gazes at the ceiling, “Your pussy is so nice, no cap.” 

 “It is?”

 “Hell yes,” he says confidently, “Ugh. Wow. I’m gonna have dreams about that one tonight.” 

 “David...” you trail nervously, anxious to ask your question, “Can I ask you something? How many girls have you been with?”

 “Honestly, sweetheart,” he replies with ease, still nonchalant about something so personal, “I don't know anymore. I don’t keep track. Maybe thirty? I don't even remember most of their names. If you’re asking because of, like, STDs - you don’t gotta worry about anything. I’m clean.” 

 “That’s not why I was asking,” you clarify, getting the guts to take his cigarette from him and taking a drag, easily now, “I wasn’t worrying about that, but literally, like...how?” 

 He shrugs as you pass the Camel back to him, “You’re a nice girl, baby. I’m not nice. That’s how.”

 Your eyebrows scrunch together as you move to look at him, “You are nice, though.” 

 David scoffs, “Honey, I’m a drug dealer. Just because I’m a good man doesn’t mean I’m nice.”

 “Yeah, but...you’re nice to me? You don’t even have to be. You could be mean and I’d still want to have sex with you and stuff.” You’re still confused as he takes a final drag and puts out his cigarette, tugging you closer.

 “You saying that is exactly why I’m not a nice guy,” he promises, “Because you don’t even have to tell me that. I know you would.” 

 You don’t understand at all and you sigh against him, David continuing, “I know that I’m nice to you, baby, but that’s because I like you. Why are you even picking me to do this with?”

 You roll to settle on top of him, looking up at him, “I don’t really know. I just trust you. Don’t deflect...You like me? I thought you just wanted to fuck me once and leave.”

 “Ew, it’s so weird hearing you curse,” David reacts, nose scrunching up, “Yeah, I like you. No shame in it.”

 He pushes your hair out of your face and licks his lips as he watches you blush at his words, replying, “I like you, too.”

 “Yeah?” he says, “Your parents definitely wouldn’t.”

 You roll your eyes, “My parents can - Ugh. I’m twenty-two. I can date who I want. I don’t want my father knowing what goes on in bed, and honestly? It’s kind of weird that he feels the need to know.” 

 “Jeez,” David’s eyebrows fly up, “I thought you were, like, devout.” 

 “I am,” you shrug, “But just because he took a celibacy vow doesn’t mean I can’t get laid. He’s not even a priest, ‘cause he has kids. The Church won’t let him be. Ever.”

 “So, what is he, then? My parents are Catholic, but they don’t go to church here. They said they liked Slovakia’s better,” David asks, eyes on yours, “‘Cause, you know, they speak Slovak.” 

 “I don’t even know what he is,” you admit, “He won’t tell us. My mom knows. He’s just not a priest. I think he resents me and my brothers for it.” 

 “Bruh,” David says informally, rolling his eyes, “I’m sorry, but, like...fuck your dad.” 

 “No, I agree. It’s okay,” you shake your head, “Fuck my dad.”

 “Ew,” he reacts the same way, “Stop it. It sounds so dirty coming out of your mouth.” 

 You giggle and move up to kiss him slowly, arms wrapped around each other, before David breaks, “After we fuck, lemme meet your parents.” 

 You laugh slightly, surprised, “Okay. Why? You’re gonna have...to not be you.”

 “Because,” he kisses you again, “I just want the satisfaction of knowing I railed the fuck out of their daughter when it’s something they fear so much.”

 “You’re such a bad influence,” you press, rolling your eyes, “You’re gonna ruin me.” 

 “You want it,” he rolls both of you over, now hovering over you, “That’s the goal.”

 “I guess so.”

[plaggs-stanky-cheese]

Princess of the Order Chapter 3

I wake up in a room full of darkness and 2 people in white jackets. All I am able to remember is Marinette screaming my name. MARINETTE!!!! I yell and struggle in my binds. My struggles stop short when thousands of needles are thrust into my body. I scream in pain, completely unaware of Talia A-Ghul watching in the shadows with an evil smirk on her face

Marinette's screams ring in my ears as the needles are being thrust into my skin.

" DAMIEN!

DAMIEN! "

"Damian!"

My head snaps up and I stop fiddling with my ring. I see Grayson all up in my face. " What?!" I say pushing Grayson away. " You zoned out baby-bird, we were asking about the bust you did yesterday. Can you identify any of the dealers?" " Yes, I can. It was Smith and Douglas. Now if you excuse me I will be heading to my room." I quickly get up and put my hands in my pockets by habit. Instead of heading up to my room, I headed over to the gym. I quickly hang up a punching bag and start.

Left

Right

Left

Right

Uppercut

Roundhouse kick

Repeat

I closed my eyes and repeated the routine. Flashes of the doctors went through my mind. I hit harder. Soon I notice that the bag has gone limp and unhinge it. I drop it on the floor and grab a new one. Since I had a lot of training with the miraculi I became more physically and mentally stronger. I kept going, each punch getting stronger and stronger.

"Damien look! A flower bud! Do you think that it will bloom in my hand because of the ladybug miraculous?"

" No Damien you silly goose the bunny hoop hops in the tree then comes out the other hole!'

" *giggles* D-Damien s-stop p-put the robes b-back haha"

" DAMIEN NO WATCH OUT!"

Someone taps my shoulder. I immediately turn around and punch them. " Demon spawn...you good?" says Todd, his head leaning to the side successfully dodging the punch. "-TT- I am fine Todd '' I grumble and head over to my water bottle and towel. "okay... Be ready Alfred will be leaving at 7:30" Todd says and leaves.

--

I quickly get ready and hop into the car. As Alfred pulls up to the academy I fiddle around with my ring. I momentarily slip it off and examine the inside of it. I read the carved message

"I love You Dove"

I stare at it for a while until Alfred opens the door for me. I grab my book bag and slip the ring back on. I climb out and head over to the homeroom ignoring everyone.

~

Damien had just finished writing his notes for class when a bright light filled his vision. He didn't flinch nor close his eyes. All he did was stare. He was then greeted by his Queen. He saw Marinette. Her clothing disheveled and ripped and scars all over her. Damien reaches out toward the girl and softly says "Sahib Alsumui, are you okay?" his only response is an ear-bleeding screech and a stab in the stomach

~

Everyone stares at Damien when in the middle of a lesson he gets up and mumbles about going to the washroom. He then walks carefully out the door, confusing everyone. Jon stares at his friend with worry etched on his features

The class finishes and the bell rings as a symbol of the class ending. All the students get up and head over to their last class of the day, Damien still nowhere to be seen. Not one student notices Jon Kent frantically calling Damien on his phone.

~

Damien bursts into the "Haunted " bathroom on the second floor. He grasps his stomach, gasping for air. He has had many of these kinds of...attacks but he never reacted to them much which left the question ringing in his head.

" Why am I affected now?"

But Damien did not let that thought run through his brain, no not yet. He gasped out in pain and scrunched up into himself. He falls to the side of the floor, right before his vision blurs.

~

Jon Kent cared for his friends very much. The sunshine child befriended almost everyone that he met and cared for them deeply. If anything happened to them Jon would never forgive himself, so imagine the fear that coursed throughout the half-Kryptonians veins when he checked almost every bathroom in the school and his Best friend wasn't in any of them. Jon's head was filled to the brim with many dark possibilities of what could have happened to the Wayne ward.

The boy did not have a care for his last class. It was art and he shared it with Damien, like the previous one. Damien could be back at art right now Jon, you're just being paranoid! A voice in his head whispered. Jon considered that idea and was leaning over to keep looking when he realized he had no leads. Jon sighed and made his way towards class, head down.

~

" Again." said the cold voice of Talia Al Ghul, my new 'mother'. I shook my head murmuring pleads, only to be stopped short when I felt the same agonizing pain that only came from having electricity shot through your veins. I knew Talia's plan was to make me feel nothing, and so far it wasn't working. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as my body screamed in pain. I could barely see the outline of Talia when suddenly everything stopped. My ears rang as I was forced out of the chair and escorted to my room. I gingerly step into my bed and look over to my ring. In 3 more days, it would mark the day I had lost my home and the only 2 people that meant anything to me. Marinette and Master Fu. I still hadn't read the message that was engraved inside the ring. My heart fell, heavy with grief and pain. I...I couldn't stay positive much longer. The chances that Marinette and Fu were alive were 10 to none. I didn't know how long I would be able to hold up without them. Life for me was full of pain, I had no reason to live. Suddenly a laugh rang through my ears. I twisted the ring on my finger, tempted to take it off and read the message but I remember the promise I made to Marinette, I knew I would see her again. I knew I would get her permission to see the message.

~

Damien jolted up, gasping for air. He looked around his surroundings not remembering where he was or how he got on the floor. He hastily got up and looked into the washroom mirror. His clothes disheveled and his hair a complete mess. He sighed and washed his hands and splashed his face with cold water. He then tried to flatten his hair and smooth out his clothing. In the end, he hadn't been too successful but it was the best he could do. There weren't any clocks in the washroom so he pulled out his phone. It read 3:30 and Damien let out a string of curses. School had ended almost an hour ago and all after school meetings had already ended. No one was there but himself and the staff. He opened his messages and scrolled through the threads, the string of curses growing longer. The chat had said

circusBOI: Damien? Alfred came home without you and Jon said you left class early saying u had to go to the washroom. U Good? we are worried

Broooooose: Damien? Answer please, we're all getting worried.

Deprived Of Coffee: Damien! Answer no joke rn this ain't funny

Ghost: tf are u demon spawnnnnn this ain't funnyyyyy broose made me get ready to look for uuu (but srsly pls answer im worried) I was chilling aaa

And Hundreds more. Damien raced out of the washroom before stopping at history class to grab his things. Damien did not stop running until he made it to the manor. He had never been more grateful for his training with the miraculous. Panting he rang the doorbell and rested his hands on his knees. A camera came peering out and Alfred's voice rang out. " Wayne Residence, How may I assist you?" " *pant* Hey Alfred, *pant*" " Master Damien!" Alfred said in surprise. The doors immediately opened with Alfred running out to help him. " Where were you, Master Damien? We were all worried sick! The other masters went out to look for you!." Alfred dragged the boy inside and placed him in the nearest chair. The butler disappeared for a moment before returning with water. The butler murmured something about calling up the other masters from the Batcave before leaving Damien alone. Damien placed down his things and hastily drank. A minute or so later Dick burst in everyone else not far behind. A string of " BABYBIRD!" " DEMON SPAWN" "DAMI '' and others rang out as his family and Jon gave him a huge hug all at once. Ignoring the feeling of hugging them back he let his arms go limp around them not bothering to remove them.  

Soon enough they let go and Jon said " Dude, what happened? You literally got up and walked out of class mumbling about going to the washroom!" Everyone switched looks while Damien looked down biting the inside of his cheek. He hadn't thought of an excuse yet. He couldn't tell them that he wasn't actually Bruce's child. "Wait, Damien didn't even ask the teacher? daMIEN MUMBLED?!" Jason yelled out panic lacing his voice. Bruce sat down next to the most recent robin and asked: " Damien what happened?"

~

" Damien, what happened?" I stayed quiet. I could sense Drakes gaze over me. I can feel him analyzing his every move. Drake was the smartest of them all, so I am quite surprised he didn't notice that I'm not bruce's real son. " Were you attacked by a Rogue?" asked Tim. I think that over in my head. It could work as a good excuse but..it's too risky.

"No.." I finally said. I didn't know what to say. " Then what happened baby bird?" said Grayson the most concern I have ever seen etched onto his features. "I...I was actually in the washroom when I felt a prick at the back of my neck and then everything went black. I don't know what happened in the interval I was unconscious" I fibbed. " It must be the League then. No one can sneak up on Damien no matter how hard they tried" stated Bruce murmuring. It made my heart swell in pride happy that my father figure thought so, even if the statement was a lie. I was the best at the order, only second to Marinette. She was the best anyone had ever seen since the order first started and the first ladybug was chosen. Dick nodded at Bruce's statement and said " We'll keep a watch on them" then patted my shoulder and left. Bruce quickly told me to finish my homework before he, Drake, and Todd exit the room leaving me and Jon. Before I could say anything Jon whispered " You really scared me Damien. Don't do that again please" looking up towards me with a pleading look. A look that made me want to tell Jon everything, tell him that I wasn't who he thought I was. All I could bite out was this " I-I can't promise that Jon. I can't." Jon nodded in response and brought out my homework His voice thick with emotion, he said: " Well, wanna get started on this? I'll go get mine!".

~

Robin jumped from rooftop to rooftop occasionally grappling his way to the next building. Nightwing joined him a bit after laughing as Robin went faster in attempts to beat the first robin. Robin was mid grapple when he yelped in pain and fell through the air.

"ROBIN!" yelled out Nightwing before running over to catch him mid-fall.

Into the coms spoke Batman as he asked Nightwing what happened. Nightwing quickly answered panting, as he held Robin in his hands. He quickly checked his brother's pulse before saying in his coms " Agent A ready an IV and bed, QUICK!"

~~~~

yes its a bit shorter then the last chappie but it had to be shart cus yall gonna be getting a surprise soon and I had to work on that hehe

annnyyyywayyy

MERRRY CHRISTMAS

HAPPY NEW YEAR

MAY ALL YALL STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY LOVE YOU GUYSSSS

feliz navidad yall

ADIOS

[eak8753]

High School AU 

There were two people at Rebel High that you didn’t mess with. Damian Wayne and Raven Roth. Damian was the son of playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. He was a violent little shit that got into fights just for the fun of it. He had been kicked out of numerous schools so his Father sent him to the only public school in town as punishment. He could hold himself in a fight and even if he couldn’t, he knew his Father would bail him out of anything.

Raven was a part of the demons, one of the deadliest gangs in America. She was born into it by her Father, as it was her birthright to be a part of it. She was the school's best known drug dealer and had spent the summer before junior year locked up. She had no quarrels with kicking someone’s ass if she needed to, but her preferred method of attack was verbal abuse. Both of them could cut you down to size with a single look and people were far too scared to get on their shit lists. That didn’t stop the rumours though.

“Todd, what are we doing here? I thought you were taking us to get food?” Damian asked his older brother, Jason. He had told their Father that he was grabbing a late lunch, when Alfred had insisted that he take Damian along. That had been thirty minutes ago and they still hadn’t gotten a single thing to eat. Instead they were at some trailer park on the opposite side of the city. The trailers were smaller than his room and it didn’t make sense why Todd would want to come here.

Ignoring his younger brother, Jason got out of the car, banging on one of the trailer's doors. Following his brother's actions -for what reason was beyond him- a man with two dyed white streaks in his primarily black hair, eyes the colour of ambers, covered in tattoos opened the door. looking Jason up and down he motioned for them to come in. Upon entering Damian noticed two things, it was bigger on the inside, and the place reeked of weed.

“I need papes*” Jason told the man once they walked in. “What happened to the ones I gave you?” the man questioned turning the T.V off. Damian always had to marvel at how differently they all handled their problems. Todd used drugs and alcohol, Drake would isolate himself, Grayson would throw himself into work, and Damian used violence. Sure they each tended to do what the others did -minus Damian and drugs- but they all seemed more prone to do one thing.

Damian was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a girl’s voice, one he had heard a couple of times before. “Hey fuckhead” the girl said, anger evident in her voice. Turning to the sound he looked at a form dressed in a white tank top, black sweatpants, and a bat in hand. Right in front of him was Rebel High’s most feared female; Raven Roth. “Shit” the man Jason had asked papes for pailed. “Rae…” he said trailing off as she went towards the television. She glared at the man, then proceeded to take the bat and swing it into the T.V. effectively rendering it useless. Glass shards fell to the ground, all the while the lavender haired girl never took her eyes off the man.

“What the fuck Raven” the man yelled at the young women, looking back from the shattered T.V. to her. “Remember this next time you wanna go through my shit” she said walking up to him, stopping only a few feet away, dropping the bat. “As your older brother I can go through your crap whenever I want to, and how else was I gonna find out that you’re fucking a thirty year old” the dark haired man replied, still in disbelief over the events that took place not even five minutes ago. “Simple, you don’t. Besides it’s not like it would be the first time” the girl replied with venom, clearly still angry, for what was lost to Damian.

The Roth siblings glared at each other, while the Wayne brothers -or the ones there at least- kept glancing at each other, in mild confusion and fear. She looked at him for a moment. Damian had never had a conversation with the young dealer. She rarely ever spoke unless it was to rip someone apart, disrespect someone -who more often than not deserved it- or was to talk about deals. Seeing as Damian and her didn’t run in the same crowd -that of which meant he was popular, thus meaning he sat with popular people and she was always by herself- and he didn’t have a purpose for drugs, they never spoke. Although they did have English together. Turning back to face her brother she flipped him off and walked out the door.

Damian briefly wondered if he had been possessed as he saw her walk out the door, slamming it. He didn’t want her to leave, which was unusual in itself since he wasn’t much of a people person. Looking at the two older men before him, Damian ran out of the trailer home, running up to the young girl, calling out her name.

Stopping a couple of meters in front of him she slowly turned around, her arms crossed in front of her, confusion visible on her face. “Wayne?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow as he ran the last few meters to her. “Hey, I um” he stammered, suddenly his mouth felt dry. Despite other’s beliefs, he had no clue how to talk to teenage girls, especially ones who were just as explosive as him. He knew he had to be cautious, not say or do anything that might make her upset.

“I didn’t know you had a brother” he said casually. “I have five more,” she said, never letting her defences down. Why was Damian Wayne talking to her? It didn’t make any sense, and honestly she couldn’t be bothered to figure out the truth at the moment. She hadn’t eaten yet and was fully aware of how violent and rude she could be if she didn’t eat. “Really? Where are they” he asked with genuine interest. He was observant and used that to his advantage, he pretty much had everyone at Rebel’s High story -or the basics of it- figured out, all’s except her’s.

“Prison” she answered sharply, turning on her heel, she started walking again. Then a hand reached out to latch on to her own, effectively stopping her. Spinning around to him, she looked at his hand on her arm, then at him. Did he have a death wish? Moving his hand from her after a moment -way to quickly, he noted- he went to speak, but was beaten to it. “Look Damian, if my brother asked you to check up on me-“ “Your brother didn’t tell me to do shit. I just wanted to make sure you were okay” he cut her off, nonchalantly.

She was suspicious, he could see that but she didn’t ask “why” which he was grateful for. Honestly Damian didn’t know why he did it, maybe it was because something about Raven had always intrigued him or that she had yet to throw herself at him but he did want to make sure she was okay. Plus if what her brother said about the thirty year old was true, he wanted that pedophile to get locked up.

“I’m guessing you’re one of the shithead brothers Jay is alway complaining about?” She asked him after a moment, still keeping her guards up. Raising his eyebrow slightly he crossed his arms. “He talks about you guys, so are you Kiss Up, Replacement or Demon Spawn?” the girl question. “Demon Spawn, definitely Demon Spawn” the boy answered, smirking.

Sure being called a demon spawn wasn’t something to be proud of, but honestly he couldn’t give two shits. When he first went to live with his Father seven years ago he purposefully was a disobedient, cruel, nasty child, something he undoubtedly would be punished for when he lived with his Mother and Grandfather. He also really liked the names for his other older brothers. Kiss Up had to be Grayson, Father was always comparing everything the others did to their eldest brother. Replacement must have been Drake then, which for Todd was fitting, considering he was adopted a few months after Father had sent Todd off to boarding school in London.

Tuning back into his conversation with Raven he asked “what does he say about us?” “53% of the time it's complaints, 17% is talking about how we should sell him a gun“ this shocked Damian for two reasons; why did Todd need a gun? And he didn’t know the Roths dealt them. Of course he wasn’t stupid and valued his life so he brushed it off as if he already knew these things. “What about the remaining 30%?” The young Wayne asked. At that Raven just grinned.

It was then that she came closer to him, he stood still, tensing up at the contact. He didn’t really like being around people, females no less. He had only really ever had two females close to him; his mother and ex girlfriend, both of which were no longer a part of his life. Raven, being completely oblivious to his uneasiness reached forward for the front of his jacket, playing with the unzipped sides before looking up at him. “Is that a Balmain Biker Jacket*” she questioned, still playing with the sides. “Yeah it is, how did you…” he trailed off, looking at her suspiciously. “Just because I can't afford it doesn’t mean I don't know what it is,” she smirked.

He looked at her a bit sheepishly, then she quickly pulled away from him. For some reason he liked having her close to him, but he brushed it off as wanting physical contact from a female -that he was comfortable with- after going months without it.

“I'm hungry” she stated, and started walking away. Before he could do anything she turned to him again with a raised brow. “Well, are you coming?” She asked. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Raven Roth had just asked him if he was going to eat with her, it really wasn’t her style. He had rumours that she had slept with -or done something similar- with almost every guy at school. He didn’t think she did dates, then again this wasn’t a date. Did he want it to be a date? That was a question he didn’t need answered at the moment, running up to her he made sure to leave a good five inches of space between them.

Entering Big Belly Burger, they sat down at a booth, across from each other. “Need help deciding what you want,” Raven asked with an amusing smile, clearly teasing him. It wasn't a secret that Damian always had the best of everything; clothes, technology, and food. He knew that she thought that this was his first time coming to a Big Belly Burger, or any fast food place. Yes it was true he didn’t usually go to places that served food high in fat, but he did indulge once in a while, this being one of those times. “Nope” he answered, popping the P, as the waitress came over to them.

“What will it be?” The waitress asked, who Damian quickly realized was a new girl who went to their school, a sophomore he believed. “I'll have a grilled chicken burger and an ice tea, with a side of fries” Raven said, putting the menu down. “I'll have the same thing except for a surprise veg burger” Damian responded to the waitress. Looking up from her notepad, she looked both of them over, registering who exactly was in front of her.

“Holy shit, you’re Damian Wayne” it wasn’t really a question but he nodded anyways. Immediately she became much more cheery. She patted her uniform skirt down, fixed her hair slightly and put on a bright smile. “So what brings you here” she said, he cringed internally at the overused pickup line. He found it a little disrespectful that she would try and talk to him when he was clearly in the middle of something with another person. The complete disregard for Raven infuriated.

He gestured towards the purple haired girl in front of him, the waitress just scoffed. “You certainly are a cheap date” she said to Raven. “Didn’t know you were into rich boys, then again I wouldn’t put being a gold digger past you. Or is the trailer trash you’re used to just not cutting it anymore, you would sleep with anyone who wants it” she said with clear disgust, Raven for her part was keeping her cool, she didn’t even seem bothered by what this girl was insinuating. Damian knew the rumours, and what her brother said didn’t help her case, but she didn’t have to take this kind of treatment.

Looking away from Raven, the younger girl looked Damian, bright smile again. “You know you don’t have to go through the trouble of buying this skank lunch right? I mean you could do so much better-“ no doubt referring to herself, he thought “-and she never needed to be dined before. I heard that she” “I don’t give two shits what you heard about her. Now can you please go get us our fucking food” Damian snapped. The girl, slightly taken aback by his outrage, just nodded and left, all the while having Damian glare at her.

Looking back to Raven he saw her brow raised, something he noticed she did a lot. “You know you could report her right, get her fired. No doubt that she deserves it” he said, still not understanding how she managed not to be angry. “It’s not that big of a deal” she shrugged, playing with a ketchup packet. Not that big of a deal? She had just been disrespected and thinks it isn’t a big deal.

Then a thought struck him. “Does that happen often” he questioned, although deep down he already knew the answer. She pretended to think for a moment. “All the time” she answered, leaning back in her seat. “You don’t have to take it,” he said, placing his hands on the table leaning forward slightly. “Look, I'm a Roth” she sighed. “People are always gonna talk. If she wasn’t bitching about me being a slut, then it would about me being a dealer” she said, eyes pleading with him to just drop it.

“That's fucked up” he said, staring out the window. “I come from a pretty fucked up family” she responded with a smile in her voice. “Yeah, my family’s pretty shit too” he stated, still not looking at her. He was upset with his Father for not knowing about him until he was ten years old, he was upset with his Mother for not telling his Father about him, but more importantly he was upset that they both never treated him like a normal child, then again Damian wasn’t a normal child.

“Damian” Raven's voice snapped him from his thoughts, turning to look at her; she had an incredulity face. “From what I heard you have a pretty great family” she stated matter of factly. Seeing the look of confusion on his face she elaborated. “I know that your Father is sort of a distant asshole, but he also has a multibillion dollar company to run, so he can’t exactly be there for all of you. Clearly he shouldn’t have so many kids but you all turned out pretty fine. The worst of you being Jason, dubbed by the media, and all he really does is smoke weed” she gave her two cents. She wasn’t wrong, in fact she was completely on the nose. Damian understood why his Father was away all the time, but a part of him still wished he could see him after he came home from school like most kids.

“Still wish he’d be there for us sometimes though. We really only see him on Fridays for a mandatory family dinner” Damian said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Family dinner sounds nice, if my Father isn’t locked up then he’s doing something to get locked up” she responded as their food arrived, thankfully it was a different waitress this time. “How much time has he done?” The young man questioned, taking a sip of his ice tea. “30 years on and off” she answered, taking a bite of her fries.

“So, what’s your story?” She asked him after about three minutes of silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence though, and he actually quite enjoyed it. When he was with his -now ex- girlfriend she hated the silence and would talk for hours, which was fine with Damian if it meant he didn’t have to talk about himself. Obviously this tactic wasn’t going to work with Raven.

“I don’t have one” he simply answered, taking a bite from his burger. “Bullshit” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “Everyone's got a story, whether they acknowledge it or not” she stated. “If that’s true then you must have one” he countered, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. “Yeah I do, but I asked first” she shrugged, reaching over and grabbing one of his fries.

His eyes followed his fry in her hands, all the way to her mouth, looking up he realized she had been watching him the whole time, sighing he had no other choice but to answer the young woman. “I grew up with my Mother and Grandfather. They took care of me and taught me how to defend myself. After my Grandfather was killed my Mother had trouble taking care of us, so she brought me to my father.”

“Apparently he didn’t even know I was born and made me take a DNA test to determine if I was even his or not. Surprise surprise, I was. I’ve been living with him ever since, sometimes my Mother comes to visit but I wish she would just leave me alone” at her confused face he explained. “My mother was mentally abusive, and kept me isolated from most of the world. It wasn’t until I lived with my Father that I realized how shitty she was though” he finished, taking another bite from his burger.

They just sat there for a while, unmoving. That was until he reached out to take a sip of her drink, she followed the movements with a raised brow, at his smirk she slightly chuckled. “So...” he drawled out, indicating for her to finish, she sighed. “I lived with my mother up until I was eight” she started. “She was murdered and I was taken. Apparently my father didn’t take too kindly to her running off after they found out she was pregnant.”

”Of course I was beyond angry at him for what he did to my mother. Sure she was a bitch at times but she was the only person I had. He went to jail, for unrelated reasons, after that. My brothers were in and out of the house, so I enlisted in school and about four months later he was released. Forced me into the family business. High school kids are more prone to buy drugs than adults. Of course then the rumours came and he totally lost his shit. Went full on psycho, I had to leave for a while so I got my ass thrown in juvie. While I was locked up he got caught for some shit and now has to do 18 months with a chance of parole in 12” she replied in a monotone voice, not betraying how she actually felt.

“Why’d he go psycho” the youngest Wayne questioned, what rumours had her Father heard that would make her want to go to juvie. “That I was a slut” Damian couldn’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, he thought that I was doing it with everyone; high schoolers, felons, junkies, guys in their thirties” she gave him a small smile as she finished her burger. It was odd, he had never told anyone as much as he had told her. He believed that his mind was something for him and him alone, which drove everyone else crazy. But for some reason he was willing to tell her all of his inner thoughts. Then it struck him.

Thought? What do you mean he thought you did those things. No offence, but you have done those things” he told her with a face of confusion. She looked at him with dull eyes, and shook her head slightly. “I've only slept with one man, Damian, and it wasn’t even consensually” she said with the utmost seriousness, then again when wasn’t she serious? “What...what about the rumours?” he probed with a frown, he believed her, he was just taken aback that someone would spread such nasty lies about another person.

“A few weeks after I started school I was invited to this girl’s birthday party. There was this boy there and he tried to kiss me, I said no. Next thing I knew he told everyone that we had hooked up. Guess he got some of his friends into it too, because they made up shit as well” she shrugged, taking another one of his fries. “Why didn’t you deny it?” He asked. “I did it, but by then the damage was done. It only got worse when I became a freshmen” her eyes had clouded over, as if she was remembering something; something particularly painful.

“What about the guy your brother was talking about?” He inquired, looking her over. Snapping back into reality she answered. “My brother doesn’t know shit. I'm not sleeping with the guy, he's my Social Worker. I have to report to him every two weeks on how shit in my life’s going and based on that he deems whether I can continue living with my father or not” obviously she hadn’t told him the truth, or the entire truth at least. There was no way he would let her live with that maniac if he knew what really happened.

Her words bounced around in his mind. “I’ve only slept with one man, and it wasn’t even consensual. Wasn’t even consensual” she hadn’t given consent. “You were raped” he blurted out. she looked at him with a face of indifference. “Well I wouldn’t go so far to say that-“ “did you and this man have intercourse?” He cut her off. “Yes” she answered honestly, “did you give him consent” “No” she shook her head. “That means you were raped-“ she was about to protest but he continued “-he invaded your body without asking or having permission.”

“Even if you had given consent, that still makes him a pedophile, you have to report this” he couldn’t believe this. The girl everyone had belittled for being a slut was actually a rape victim. “I can't,” she whispered. “Why not” he raised his voice slightly, maybe she didn’t understand the magnitude of this situation, but he did. “Because in some fucked up way...I care about him” she laughed but there was no humour in it. Looking up at him he noticed the unshed tears in her eyes, and he knew that this was hurting her, breaking her. She was pleading with him to drop it. “Rae...” he trailed off, he was sorry for her, not in a pity kind of way, but in a you-don’t-deserve-this kind of way.

“Look,” she said, straightening up a bit. “It happened years ago, I have no way to prove that it even happened. The bastard is already in jail anyways” she said, reaching across the table to put her hand over his, not to take a fry. She smiled at him softly, he didn’t agree with her and was willing to take this to court, even pay for a lawyer, but there wasn’t much he could do if she didn’t want to. So, he just returned the smile.

It was weird, less than an hour ago he hadn’t spoken to her once, and now it felt like they knew each other better than anyone else. He had just thought of her as a skanky dealer, another criminal that should be locked up. It was true, what she had said, that everybody has a story. He silently vowed to never judge another person without truly knowing their story first. This may have been their first conversation, but something told him it wouldn’t be their last.

***

A/N: This came to me when I was watching Euphoria and Shameless videos :)

Papes - The paper you roll weed up in (I think, don’t know if that’s how you spell it)

Balmain Biker Jacket is this expensive leather jacket

[uraichievents]

UraIchi PC4 2019 Masterlist

Here’s a list of all the works submitted for PC4! I’ve ordered them in by prompt number under each work type, and it looks like we came pretty close to finishing the whole table! Thank you to everyone who participated this year~

FANFICS

Third Eye Blind by DevinePhoenix [#02]

Long before Kisuke was blinded by Askin, his eyes had already been damaged.

Patchwork Soldier by DevinePhoenix [#02]

When they wake up, they will have to deal with what their decisions have wrought. He will have to cope with his injuries and Kisuke will have to cope with his scars and guilt. But they still have time before that morning of uncertainty. In the dusty twilight of the Soul King’s realm, they could rest together and dream of a better ending.

Death Gods by Chaos_Greymistchild [#03]

AU in which Kisuke is still a mad scientist with only slightly more morals than the rest of them, but Ichigo is a vampire/death-dealer/human hybrid, a legal executioner, and (still) the world’s most recent supernatural anomaly.

The long avaited encounter by SueGra [#04]

Kurosaki Ichigo left Karakura after he lost his power. Urahara Kisuke listened to Isshin and he broke up with Ichigo. Somebody killed the rogue shinigami and his partners. Urahara went after the person who killed them and he was surprised. Who was it?

Wrong Side of Reality by Starrie_Wolf [#06]

If there was one thing that every invader of Soul Society did wrong, it was that each and every one of them measured one's power by the strength of their reiatsu alone. And every single one of them failed, because they did not understand that to be truly powerful, one must first have the Means to ensure their plans succeed.

He, who has been watching from the shadows for a thousand years, refuses to make the same mistake.

By Invitation Only by FeelingFredly [#10]

“No weapons are allowed past this point.  Please move forward to the weapons check and place them in the tagged locker.  You will be given the code to retrieve them when you leave.”

Ichigo turned on his heel as if to follow the robot’s directive, only to stop and spin back, trench knife in one hand and katana in the other, the smooth swing of the blades separating the brassneck’s head from his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing over the sparking remains, “but I refuse to make Aizen-sama’s acquaintance so underdressed.”

Kisuke snorted in his ear.  “No one is there to hear your dramatics, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo kicked the head to one side, like a soccer ball. “You know that you’re the only audience I need, Kisuke."

stay with me (until the sun rises) by Fox_the_Hermit [#12]

Ichigo is friends with a great deal of supernatural entities. The one monster under every bed in town is his favourite, though.

these dreams like ashes float away by howls [#12]

Ever since Ichigo refused to leave something well enough alone, a shadow man would visit him once, or twice, a month. (What he never realized was that there was more going on in those moments than the shadow man would reveal. For now, at least. He could never refuse Ichigo for long.)

Gambit without Guarantee by Starrie_Wolf [#18]

How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

new life, same shit by Chaos_Greymistchild [#19]

Not all knowledge is gained through the Gate of Truth. Not all reincarnates are born with their memories. Ichigo’s not sure how comfortable he is with this knowledge.

Arsenic by FeelingFredly [#20]

He was poison and he'd accepted that fact. Now if only everybody else would.

Police Tricycle (or: it’s not a buddy cop if I’m the third wheel, says Rukia) by Chaos_Greymistchild [#21]

Ichigo chases Szayelaporro Gantz down the highway in a high-speed car chase with a grenade launcher cameo. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Winds of Change (Tempest) by Sky_King [#24]

When the war is over and Ichigo has won, fate will come back to get her due.

Ichigo gambled and gave everything away in exchange for power, and finally the price paid has to be claimed.

(When the war is over, Kisuke finds himself adrift, too guilty to live, too guilty to die. He carries on, fueled by that single promise, trying to find a reason for being.And when he does, he'd sooner kill the Soul King himself than let it disappear, no matter the cost.)

Whip It Good by FeelingFredly [#25]

You didn't live a life like Kisuke's without developing a few interesting preferences, but he knew they weren't for everyone, and really, his relationship with Ichigo was more than he could have ever asked for--loving and supportive in ways he still wasn't sure he deserved. It was just very vanilla. Which was fine. Really.

So why he was "just visiting" at his old BDSM club?

The very bad, terrible, no good first few days of Junior SID Agent Dokugamine Riruka by Starrie_Wolf [#27]

Sometimes, Dokugamine Riruka wishes she could go back to her 22-year-old self and tell her to choose another department, any other department, she’s got the grades to take her pick.

Berry Nice by Chaos_Greymistchild [#28]

“Can I kiss you?"

“If you don’t,” Kisuke said with remarkable control, “I think I might do something regrettable.”

“Okay.”

Calling You (Maybe) by EternalEclipse [#29]

Ichigo never answers his phone, and Kisuke always does.

building a future (and tearing down the past) by EternalEclipse [#30]

At first, Ichigo had just been an invention of Kisuke's, nothing more than a gear to be moved. A pawn. It was only natural that after the war, Kisuke left him to his own devices--they'd won, which was the best he could ask for. As it turns out, once he starts making things for Ichigo instead of just countering Aizen, it's a hard habit to break. By the end of it, he won't even want to.

Or, five times Kisuke made things with Ichigo in mind, and one time Ichigo asked him to destroy something.

Companionship (Stay with Me) by Nikolaila [#31]

People are people, even in space. Sometimes the required conversations in relationships are hard to have but necessary to hold.

Tsuki no Tsuppane by Silmariën (Starrie_Wolf), Starrie_Wolf [#32]

They have scarcely begun to unravel the complex web of Aizen no Sōsuke's treason when Kisuke is made aware of another layer to the conspiracy, one that threatens to expose all the secrets he has not yet decided if he will share with Ichigo-no-mikoto.

Few enough people are willing to accept onmyōji, but even fewer will be willing to accept that their lover is not even human.

Work/Date Balance by Starrie_Wolf [#33]

Kisuke doesn't seem to really grasp the meaning of a date, but it's okay, Ichigo loves him anyway.

“So… are you doing your usual fainting damsel imitation, or shall I take care of it?”

(Interlude during their vacation in London.)

a breath of fresh air by Fox_the_Hermit [#34]

Ichigo refuses to let Kisuke win yet another round of the "I took a cute photo of you and I'll use it to fund my experiments" game. Mostly on principle.

The world is changing by Starrie_Wolf [#35]

They’ve been doing this for so long that Kisuke has no idea how to wake up in a world where he doesn’t need to prioritise the Hōgyoku over his family.

Interlude: the day after Aizen's defeat.

Accidental Pokèmon Acquisition by EternalEclipse [#36]

Ichigo had never wanted to be a pokèmon trainer. To be flat honest, the ghosts kept him busy enough. But when Monferno fell into his life with a burst of laughter and trouble, Ichigo is drawn into a side of the pokèmon world he didn't even know existed.

Or the one where there are both ghosts and pokèmon, the Gotei 13 is a government organization with as many checks and balances as ever, and Ichigo will do whatever it takes to keep his own safe.

Feeling Horny by Silmariën (Starrie_Wolf), Starrie_Wolf [#36]

When Urahara shoved Ichigo to Hirako to learn how to control his inner Hollow, Ichigo thought it meant Urahara wasn’t Hollowfied.

He was wrong.

the fear is eating you alive / so I'll be your reason, I'll be your shelter by Chaos_Greymistchild [#37]

Sometimes, Kisuke doesn’t remember where he is, or who he is in his own personal timeline. Sometimes, Ichigo is more Hollow and instinct than human. But that’s okay.

one-sided understanding by Angst_Distribution_Service (Fox_the_Hermit) [#37]

suspended animation (patiently waiting for the end) by Chaos_Greymistchild [#38]

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck is new on the starship Zangetsu, piloted by Captain Kurosaki alongside his AI Urahara Kisuke, who seems to have an… unprecedented freedom on board the ship, if she was being entirely honest.

Freedom worth Fighting (for) by Starrie_Wolf [#39]

Things have a way of coming full circle...

You Haven't Lost Me by FeelingFredly [#40]

Ichigo has moved on. It doesn't matter if his Shinigami powers are gone--he's a weapon, and there was always a market for that skill set. Currently that skill set was being tasked to collect the oyabun's past due tribute from a troublesome shopkeeper.

Troublesome shopkeeper. No... it couldn't be.

What they don't understand by Starrie_Wolf [#42]

Ichigo comes back from winter break with bruises he can't explain and a significant other who looks to be much older than him.

His classmate thinks she's put two and two together.

With Affection by wynnebat [#44]

"Yoruichi asked me if I had any family," Ichigo says. His gaze rests on the courtyard and squad buildings across from them while Kisuke cannot look away. Ichigo's voice is even, but Kisuke knows better than that. Ichigo adds, wryly, "I told her all I needed was you."

painting in blood by Chaos_Greymistchild [#45]

“It’ll be fine.”

He hopes that that proves true.

You Don't Have a Soul, You Are a Soul (You Have a Body) by FeelingFredly [#47]

Kisuke has a disregard for his own safety a mile wide and it's enough to drive Ichigo mad. This time he finds the shopkeeper unconscious but not alone, and the woman with him has some very interesting things to say.

Thunder For Bells In This Church Of Two by Chaos_Greymistchild [#48]

“[Resonance for a human is] total, complete, irreversible blending” -- Bell Tolls, esama

For the shinigami, it is... less so.

wear your soul (outside your body) by Fox_the_Hermit [#48]

Ichigo has no idea how he ended up with someone so brilliant. Kisuke has no idea how he got lucky enough to end up with one of the best people he's ever met.

your heart doesn't beat (let me teach it to) by Fox_the_Hermit [#52]

Kisuke understands that his time to go has come. It's time to accept that he can't hang around forever. His dear friend Ichigo has agreed to help him with finding what is needed to help him move onwards, whatever that really means. (Except he’s not ready to let go.)

roots in my lungs, blooms on my tongue by Chaos_Greymistchild [#55]

Astilbes, dahlias, and Queen Anne’s Lace. Patience, devotion, sanctuary.

Will you become my... by SueGra [#57]

The war with Ywhach has ended two years ago. Everybody enjoying the peace. Suddenly all captains get an invitation to the Shiba compound because there is a new clan head? Who is she/he?

Happily Ever After by Starrie_Wolf [#58]

Ichigo wasn't expecting a happily ever after, but it seems like he could find a little peace at last.

Omega as Fish Oil by EternalEclipse [#59]

Yeah, Ichigo's an omega. He's fine with it, especially since some of the instincts that come along with it are useful for protecting his own. What he's not fine with are a bunch of shinigami noble knotheads deciding that he's up for the taking because of it. Luckily, he's got a Kisuke to help him set them straight.

You are my Sanity by OrangeTeaMoon [#60]

And so, it had taken Urahara Kisuke nearly 4 months, 1 week, 3 days and a direct run-in with an absolutely impossible apparition of Kurosaki Ichigo to realize that he had lost his mind.

reach the epilogue (and then take it from the top again) by Fox_the_Hermit [#61]

Ichigo's alive and healthy and whole. But too many people aren't (friends, family, the one single crush that hasn't had the time to get anywhere), and this isn't an epilogue to his story that's worth living in. He'd rather rewrite the whole damn thing from scratch.

Only the truth you want to see by Starrie_Wolf [#61]

Growing up as the daughter of a police detective father and a novelist mother, it’s no small wonder that Rika chose to study English Literature in university. The class is unavoidably small – even for Todai,finding students interested in pursuing a degree in the classics of a foreign country is a difficult matter.

Which makes all her classmates so unavoidably interesting.

Especially that Kurosaki Ichigo.

I'm a Certified Genius, I Swear by Chaos_Greymistchild [#64]

Kisuke’s not quite sure why he keeps getting gifts from the Shiba Clan Head, Shiba Ichigo, but— Hiyori please stop laughing please.

-0-

FANART

UraIchi PC4 Prompt #32 - Magic AU / Mythology AU / Fantasy AU by @ananfer [#32]

UraIchi PC4 Prompt #48 - Daemons AU by @junoagriffin [#48]

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Paper Rings

au college Sam Winchester x OFC Dani  Word Count: 1300 Tags: none, literally, this is a fluff bomb of cute fluffy love and soft baby Sammy feels, stationery shopping, kisses. *** This one is for the best fanfic reviewer in the whole world, @dawnie1988​. Her request: Fluff. All the fluff. I want to be smothered in it. I’m thinking Sam this time, either canon or canon adjacent Sam or something a little more in the stratosphere of your au ‘Show Me How’ type Sam, dealer’s choice on that one Song Inspiration: Paper Rings by: Taylor Swift *** "There's nothing like a brand new notebook to make you feel like anything is possible, right?" Sam started. Was she talking to him? He turned his head to see a dark haired girl smiling eagerly at him. "It's the best part of a new school year. The new notebooks, the new pens. Even though we're in college now, I still love it." She was looking at him, her dark eyes sparkling, clearly expecting him to say something. "Uh, no." He stammered out. "Oh, yeah, I guess maybe dudes aren't as into that?" Before he could answer, she continued. "Anyway, hi, I'm Dani. I'm so excited to be in this class. Aren't you?"

“No, I mean, yes.” Sam wasn’t usually this flustered. “No, it’s just, my parents weren’t really the ‘back to school’ shopping type. But yes, I’m looking forward to Educational Psychology.” Apparently that answer was enough to encourage Dani.

“Are you going to be a teacher? I am. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. It runs in my family. My grandpa taught high school, and my dad is a professor. Even my mom teaches music. I want to teach Middle School. I feel like those kids just have so much potential, you know? Like, if you catch them there, you can change the course of their lives.”

“Uh, I’m Pre-Law.” Sam was trying to keep up and formulate some kind of response. “I’m Sam.” 

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Dani flashed him a bright smile and then turned to the front of the room as the professor walked in and called Educational Psychology to order. Sam was relieved to settle into the familiar territory of lecture, reading and taking notes. It was much easier than keeping up with Dani’s endless stream of chatter. 

At the end of the class, he had to hurry to his next one, which he had unwisely scheduled across campus. But the next time he walked into the classroom, there was Dani. She seemed to have been waiting for him, hardly letting him sit down before she launched into a discussion that covered the last class as well as the homework for this class. 

Sam was surprised to discover, in the flow of her words, that she had an astute grasp of the topic. He found himself agreeing with what she had to say, mostly in his head, of course, because she didn’t give him much chance to answer. When the class started, she responded to the professor’s questions with the same kind of enthusiasm - verbose, but knowledgeable. 

From that day, Sam and Dani seemed to fall into easy companionship. They sat side by side in class, they studied together for tests, and they managed to team up for group projects. 

They were friends, nothing more, but Sam treasured it. Dani was everything he was not: confident, chatty, secure in herself. He could tell that she was grounded by the support of her parents, who were present and caring, affirming her and encouraging her interests. It was a sharp contrast to his lost mother and distant father. 

Sam and Dani studied for finals together like they had for everything else. For Educational Psychology, of course, but also for their other classes, sharing study tips and quizzing one another. The library was closing for the night when Sam stretched and looked at her. They had been lost in their books for hours.

“I don’t know about you, but I can only learn so much on an empty stomach. Wanna hit the diner?” Sam stood up and stretched. Dani agreed eagerly. 

Once they were seated at a booth, Sam declared a study-free zone. He was launching into one of his favorite topics, about how brains need time to process, when Dani interrupted.  

“I agree, Sam. No more school work.” She reached out and took his hand. He startled into silence. “Let’s just talk about us.”

As usual, Dani talked the most, saying ten words for every one of his. But the words he did say were honest, heartfelt. She made him feel comfortable enough to tell a little bit of the truth about his life. Dani listened intently, her expressive face displaying every emotion: sadness, confusion, and ultimately, concern. 

“So the day we met, when you said your parents were not really the back to school shopping type, this is what you were talking about?”

“I… guess.” Sam wasn’t used to talking this much about himself. He felt himself get quiet, retreat back inward. He felt like maybe he had shared too much. 

“That’s too bad. You really deserve better, you know?” 

Sam was unsure how to react to such honest caring, so he shrugged. “It is what it is.” He answered dismissively.  He paid for dinner and drove Dani back to her dorm. Like a gentleman, he got out of the car to open her door. 

He was caught off guard when she threw her arms around his neck. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. 

Kissing Dani was the easiest thing in the world. Sam already knew her, trusted her. Kissing her felt right. And at the same time-

“Dani, you don’t have to-”

She pulled back, her hands still locked around his neck, to look him full in the face. “Sam Winchester, I don’t do anything because someone thinks I have to. I want to, I want this, I want you.” 

Sam wasn’t used to anyone knowing him, seeing him, much less wanting him. For a long moment he was silent, leaning his forehead against hers without speaking, their lips barely brushing.

“Kiss me once,” she whispered,  “Kiss me twice, I’ve been waiting for this.”

He knew Dani, trusted her, so he let himself get lost in the moment. When she finally pulled away, reluctantly, the only thing he could find to say was, “Thank you.” 

***

Sam and Dani finished at the top of their class in Educational Psychology. That class was the rule rather than the exception. Sam ended the semester with grades that would get him on the Dean’s List and guarantee two more years of scholarships. That was what he needed, to prove himself, to make this work. 

Dani went home to her family, to enjoy the break and celebrate the holidays together. Sam took an overnight bus to the last town Dean had mentioned, and when his brother wasn’t there, he hitch hiked until he found him. 

Dean greeted him with a giant hug. 

“College boy, huh? Hope you’re not too fancy for spaghetti-os and some bad TV reruns with your big brother, huh?” 

“Never.” Sam answered quickly.

*** Sam moved back to college for the spring semester at his earliest chance. He had kept in touch with Dani by text over the break, so he was not surprised when she returned to campus. What did surprise him was her insistence that they go to Target. 

“I need things for my dorm,” she said. But when they got there, she skipped the housewares section entirely and headed straight to the office supplies. 

Sam stood in the aisle between the sharpies and the binders, taking in the color coordinated staplers and stationery. 

“It’s not back to school season, really.” Dani said. “But pick your notebooks.”

Sam shook his head, baffled. “No, I can get what I need at the dollar store.” 

Dani almost stomped her foot. “C’mon Sam. This is my favorite thing, and I want to share it with you.” She took in his expression. “You can have nice things. You deserve this.”

At her urging, he picked up a few notebooks, a folder or two, and then a set of pens. 

She held his hand as they left the store. “See, now that you have new school supplies, don’t you feel like anything is possible? ” 

Sam took her face in both hands and kissed her, right there outside of Target. 

“Wrap your arms around me, baby boy,” she murmured as she sank into his embrace. 

“With you, Dani,” he murmured finally, “You’re the one I want. Yeah, anything is possible.”  *** This one’s unbeta’d so all the mistakes are on me. *** SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ Gay Screaming: @boondoctorwho​, @cracksinthewalls​, @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​, @justcallmeasmodeus​, @lastactiontricia​ @mskathywriteswords​, @rockhoochie​, @there-must-be-a-lock​, @thoughtslikeaminefield​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crossing the Line

This is a sequel to Fine Line

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, rough sex, violence, anal sex, oral, multiple partners.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You return from your mission with Bucky finding your relationship with Steve strained.

As Bucky slept on his cot, you found the strength to crawl over to your bag and dig out a knife. You sawed through the laces around your wrists, resigned to having a loose shoe. You’d just wear your boots instead. You took your gear and crept to the small washroom. You stood in the tight shower for close to an hour before getting out. You dressed, rubbed dry your hair, and slipped into your boots. You paused before passing back into the small common area. Your heart was pounding.

A twinge of pain went through your pelvis as you entered the main room. Bucky was sat up on his cot, drinking coffee from a small metal cup. You ignored him as you pulled on your jacket and strapped on a gun and knife. You were tempted to turn them on him but he was ever vigilant. You could feel his eyes following your every move. Besides, how would you explain that to Tony? Or Steve? 

Your heart sank as you tucked your gloves in your pocket and bent to fold your cot. You wanted to turn around and tell him to look somewhere else, but at the same time, you didn’t want to acknowledge his presence. You were ashamed; scared, even.

“So,” His voice cut the early morning silence, “You going on a lone mission then? You really must be suicidal.”

You leaned the folded cot against the wall and turned to him slowly, hands on your hips. “You gonna stop dragging your ass?” You challenged, “All you’ve done is sit on that damn cot and harp the last two days.”

“That’s not all I’ve done,” He stood, lording over you as he neared, “Not really sure how you’re gonna fend off the dealer’s goons when you couldn’t keep me away.”

You pulled your knife the moment he stepped close enough to grab you. The blade was at his throat in an instant. “You won’t catch me off-guard again,” You warned, “So, we’re finishing this mission today or you can stay and do it yourself.”

He chuckled and you saw his metal fingers ball into a fist from the corner of your eye. “Put your little knife away,” He slowly retreated, “I think I got my point across clear enough last night.”

You slowly lowered the knife as he backed away. You watched as he casually went about readying himself. Your nostrils flared as you were annoyed by how slow he was moving; how deliberately he was doing everything. You sheathed your knife and grabbed your bag. You stomped out to the car and tossed it in the trunk. You sat heavily in the front seat to wait.

You gripped the steering and hung your head forward as you tried to ward of visions of the night before. Unwanted sensations inspired by the memory. What were you going to tell Steve? Were you going to tell him? You leaned back and sighed. No, there was nothing left with Steve. Not now. He had left you there all alone. Every time you thought of him, you would think of Bucky and that hurt most of all.

-

Mission complete. Never had those words been so painful. The drive home was the worst torture of all. You drove as Bucky stretched out in the back, his boots tucked irritatingly behind your headrest. Everything he did annoyed you; other times it made you flinch. It was easy enough to guess that he was doing it all on purpose. He had even gone so far as to pinch your ass as you were reporting back to Tony on the phone. You’d almost tossed the cell at him but kept your focus on your work.

It was a relief to be free. You slammed the door and retrieved your bag swiftly, evading Bucky as he kept his cool pace. You said nothing as you slipped away, almost running up the stairs from the garage to the compound. You just wanted to be alone. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, you just needed to stop. Lay down and stop thinking. Fade away.

That wasn’t to be. As you laid face down on your bed, your boots and jacket disposed beside the bed, a knock sounded at the door. You didn’t answer. You put your arm up over your head and hid beneath the pillow. Another knock. Finally, the door clicked open and you shot up; suddenly fearful that your tormentor had come for second assault. It was Steve. He looked shocked as your hand went to your waist in search of the knife that wasn’t there.

“Y/N,” He said, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” You fell back, “Trying to sleep.”

“Tough mission?” He asked as he sat on the edge of the mattress behind your legs. You didn’t answer. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m tired,” You replied bluntly and crossed your arms.

“Oh, okay,” He shifted his weight on the bed, “Maybe I’ll just come back later.” He touched your hip and you spun back, sitting up sharply as you shoved him away.

“Maybe don’t come back at all,” You snapped.

“What? What’s wrong with you?” He tried to catch your hand as you pushed his shoulder a second time.

“I--Me and you, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore,” You drew away before he could touch you again, “It’s not professional.”

“Oh, come on, Nat and Bruce used--”

“And Wanda and Vis, I know,” You interrupted, “We’re not like them. It’s just sex.”

“Is it?” He lifted a brow. You stared at him grimly; quietly as you fended off thoughts of Bucky.

“I can’t,” You croaked, “Not anymore. You’ve got other friends.”

“Is this about Bucky?” He reached out again and you were unable to keep his hand from yours. “What happened?”

You stared at him. You weren’t going to tell him. Couldn’t. And yet you wanted to. But he’d never believe you. Bucky was untouchable; his oldest friend, kindred spirit. You were just some girl. Even if you did confess, what would he think?

“Why don’t you ask him what happened?” You hissed in a low whisper and ripped your hand away from hs. “Perfect little shithead can’t do any wrong.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and onto your feet, “Go. Go ask him what happened.” You were suddenly filled with rage; you could feel Bucky’s arm around your neck, his weight on your body. “Ask him what he did!”

Steve rose slowly. He was visibly shocked as he watched your madness take over. There were tears in your eyes. When had those started? You charged to the door and opened it sharply. “Go. Go see your friend.” You jabbed your finger out the door, “And don’t come back to me.” He approached you; ready to plead. “Ever.”

You stared him down until he left. He could find no words as you seethed towards him. You didn’t know why you were suddenly angry with him, you just were. If he hadn’t left you, it wouldn’t have happened. He had to be the good soldier; had to go off on some other more important mission. More important than you. Than your safety.

He had just been another mistake.

-

It was three days of peace. By the third, you had grown suspicious. Steve was a resilient person. He had never been one to just back off. Yet he had let you stew; let you mope in your room as you avoided most people in the compound. Fortunately, in your few sojourns from your room, you had yet to meet with Bucky again. It reassured you that he was done with you. That he had truly ‘gotten his point across’. Truly, he had.

You were in the shared kitchen alone. You had waited for the morning rush to subside before you set about making your toast and poached eggs. As you pulled out a saucepan, you heard footsteps approaching. Shit. Someone else must have had the same idea. You turned as Steve entered and your shoulders dropped. Of course. You were ready to put the pot back and return to your room, but he wasn’t alone. Bucky followed, his blue eyes predatory as he spotted you.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” Steve leaned on the counter, only a few feet away. Bucky was in the doorway; there was no escape. You blinked, saying nothing as you turned to fill the saucepan with water from the tap. “Come on, you gotta talk to me.”

You sighed and slammed down the pot, splashing yourself with water. “Did you talk to him? Did you ask him what he did?” You looked between them. Bucky was grinning. “Did he tell you?”

Steve looked down, his long lashes shrouded his bright eyes as he thought. “He did,” He raised his head. You waited for him to say more but he just stared at you.

“And?” You crossed your arms. “You’re not going to say anything? Do anything?” You shot a vicious sneer in Bucky’s direction, “Don’t tell me he’s here to apologize, Steve. There’s no sorry big enough for that.”

Bucky scoffed and Steve’s face remained placid. “You shouldn’t have antagonized him.”

“What?” You spat. “Me? I--”

“The whole mission, you just kept poking and poking,” Steve interjected, “What did you expect?”

“Steve! He--he…” You looked between them, shock and repulsion slithered up your spine. “You’re disgusting! Both of you.” You left the saucepan as it was, half-filled in a puddle of water and stomped across the kitchen. Bucky squared his shoulders as you neared. “Get out of my way.”

His eyes flashed and he smirked down at you. You were ready to fight your way out if you needed to. Steve’s voice kept you from raising your fists. “Let her go, Buck.” He sounded exasperated. Bucky shook his head but relented. He raised his hands defenselessly and sidestepped you, leaving the door open. You marched from the kitchen, barely able to keep yourself from running.

-

For the next two weeks, you only saw Steve and Bucky in passing. You signed on for any mission with Natasha or Sam, trading off for any that involved the super soldier. It seemed your active evasion hadn’t gone unnoticed. Tony was a smart man and you knew he’d eventually catch on. So it was that you were sat in his office across from him. The dread which had become your normalcy hovered over you.

“So, you and Steve,” He began, “That didn’t turn out so well, did it?”

“I...It wasn’t anything,” You said grimly, “Really. It was...stupid.”

“I don’t have a problem with agents getting involved. There’s really no avoiding it but once it starts to affect your work, that’s an issue,” He leaned back in his chair, clicking a pen as he spoke, “I’ve already had a chat with him. He says he’s cool; seems as much. But you,” He pointed the pen at you, “Trading off assignments, locking yourself up.”

“I do my job and I do it well,” You asserted staunchly, “What does it matter what missions I take?”

“Because there is a reason I give you the ones I do, Y/N. You’re the least messy of all my agents and I value that but… I can’t really say that anymore.” He tossed the pen on the desk, “You and Steve need to sort this shit out.”

You nodded and swallowed your retort. Of course, Steve could pass it off like you were overly attached woman. Scorned and vengeful. The first Avenger could do no wrong. Wasn’t he the captain of morality? He deemed what was right and wrong. You chewed your lip before you answered, holding back the maelstrom of resent and rage. “I understand, Tony. I’ll take the missions I’m assigned.”

“And talk to Steve?” He urged.

You looked to his door with a sigh. “If it is necessary for the task at hand, I will.”

“Y/N,” Tony warned.

“What is it, Tony?” You turned back to him. “You want me to quit? I’m a professional, I do my job and I do it well. Say what you will about me tossing around missions, I’ve still completed every one I’ve taken. My relationship with Steve, or lack thereof, is not necessary to my work.”

“Can you at least be civil? Maybe pop in on my next party? You do have other friends here?” His voice softened as he leaned forward, “Friends who care.”

“Alright, Tony,” You smiled, just a little. “Thanks.”

“Take care of yourself,” He said kindly, “If you need some time off…”

“I’m good, Tony,” You stood with a sigh, “You should take your own advice.” You looked at the clock just behind him. “Pepper would love that.”

He checked his watch and blanched. “Shit,” He stood, “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“What is time to Tony Stark?” You mused as you pulled the door open.

“A human construct designed to make my life miserable,” He growled as he followed you to the door, “Have a good one, Y/N.” He pulled his office door shut behind him. “Oh, and please corroborate my story when I tell Pepper I was stuck in traffic.”

“Of course, you left an hour ago, I don’t know how you’re not home yet,” You smirked. “See ya, Tony.”

You watched him go before heading off down the hallway yourself. Eventually you would have to deal with this whole super soldier stand off but for now, you were going to get some sleep. Or try to. It hadn’t come easy in the weeks following that singular mission. When you did doze, you often awoke in a sweat, searching the dark for Bucky’s sinister blue eyes. Longing for the days before when you and Steve had been at peace. You did miss him, you just couldn’t be with him. Not after that.

You stretched an arm over your head as you pushed into your room, freezing as you met an unexpected visitor. Steve sat at the foot of your bed. His face was expectant; stony. No hint of his usual smile. He was here for a reason. Still, you weren’t ready. You spun on your heel and the door slammed shut. Bucky planted himself in front of it. You hadn’t seen him in the corner; or heard him. Your blood turned cold.

You grabbed the knife from your hip; a new safeguard for your paranoia. Steve was up and on you in a second, he held your arm straight before you could strike out at Bucky. He squeezed your wrist until you were forced to let go. You snapped your head up and back into Steve’s chin and kicked out at Bucky, catching him in the stomach. You turned and shoved past Steve, crawling across the bed as you reached for the drawer of your night table. It slid open with a grind and you searched inside frantically.

“Looking for this,” You heard the click of the pistol as Bucky spoke, “We got the taser too.”

A hand latched onto your ankle and pulled you back. You were flipped onto your back. Bucky had the gun pointed at you as Steve dragged you to the end of the bed. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He was pissed. You kicked out with your free leg and he batted it away. As he released you and tried to grab your wrist, you jabbed at his throat and the cool muzzle of your own pistol was pressed to your temple.

“Now, now, this isn’t a very fair fight,” Bucky snarled. “Steve,” He nodded to the other super soldier as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Let’s get started.”

You watched as Steve unzipped the black duffel atop your dresser. You had been foolish. You hadn’t been vigilant enough when you entered. You had missed it all. The signs were all around. Steve pulled out a bundle of leather straps and grabbed your wrist, dragging you up to the top of the bed..

“Face up or down?” He asked thoughtfully as he placed your wrist next to the bedpost and set the ties on the night table. “She’s got a great ass.”

“Face up for now, I guess,” Bucky shrugged as he tilted his head and kept the gun level.

You stared up at Steve as he took your wrist and tugged it to the post, winding the leather around both. “Please, Steve, don’t,” You begged softly, “Why are you doing this?” He ignored you as he secured your wrist and walked the length of the bed, pulling you flat as he lined up your ankle to the bottom post. He tied that too as your heart hammered and your ears begin to ring in fear. “Please, stop!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky spat. He shook his head as he crossed to the dresser and set down the gun. He pulled forth a black ball gag and approached you as Steve worked at tying your other ankle. You pressed your lips together but he forced the ball into you mouth and buckled the leather strap as tight as it would go. “Annoying little bitch, isn’t she?”

“You know, Buck, it wouldn’t have been such a clusterfuck if you had just listened to me,” Steve bound your other wrist as he spoke. “If you had just been nice, she would’ve gone along with it, eventually.”

“I just couldn’t,” He growled, “She’s fucking irritating.”

“Still, you could’ve been a little more patient,” Steve crossed to the duffel and pulled out a pair of scissors. Bucky stopped him and took them from him.

“Well, Steve, you always did have the patience of a saint,” Bucky crossed to the bed and leaned a knee on the mattress as he positioned the scissors at hem of your sleeve. He began to cut along the seam. “I like her better like this.” He smirked as you watched him. “Silent.”

You shook your head, the panic rising in your stomach and flooding your chest. You could only make small grunts past the gag, the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Bucky continued to cut your clothing, peeling it away one piece at a time. When you were down to only your panties and bra, you closed your eyes. You were sure you were about to pass out as you began to hyperventilate around the ball.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Steve was beside you, touching your cheek, “We just want a little fun.” His breath was hot as he spoke in your ear, “If you’re good, no one gets hurt.” Your eyes snapped open and he shared a conspiratorial look, “Well, not too hurt.”

Bucky pulled away your bra and you shivered. Your nipples were hard in the cool air of your room. As he snipped away the sides of your panties, he chuckled. He chucked the sliced fabric over to Steve when he was done. Steve held up the cotton, a wet spot along the crotch. “See, it’s not so bad.”

Bucky’s metal hand probed between your legs. He delved between your folds and poked at your entrance. You could feel your arousal as it coated his fingers. He paused and looked up at Steve. “Have you tried her ass yet?”

“I was working up to that,” Steve reached over to play with your tit, pinching your nipple playfully. “Like I said, you should’ve been patient.”

“Fuck patience,” Bucky shoved his fingers inside of you suddenly and your body strained against your binds. “I like a virgin asshole anyway.”

“And who says you get lead on that?” Steve challenged.

“Hey, you got first go at her pussy,” Bucky got down on his elbows, his knees on the end of the bed as he watched himself stretch your walls with his fingers. “Still fucking tight though. She wasn’t…”

“No, not a virgin,” Steve answered, “How many was it?” He turned to you, “Two or three?” He blinked and shrugged as you gave him no response. “I don’t know, something like that.”

“Hmm, I would’ve thought more,” Bucky grazed his thumb over your clit and you squirmed. “Very responsive.”

“You don’t even know,” Steve grinned as he bent his head to your chest, “Fuck, down in Panama...wasn’t that fun?” He asked you again even though you couldn’t answer. “Had her in the back of the car.” His lips closed around your nipple and he began to suck, his hand toying with your other tit.

“How’s her mouth?” Bucky sat back, removing his fingers with a squelch. “Is it worth it to remove the gag?”

“Oh, she’s good,” Steve lifted his head, circling his tongue around your nipple between words, “Swallows too.” You were on fire. The humiliation of Steve’s words, the memories, and the unwanted thrill of their touch had you encased in flames. “Not really a big deal. Walls are thick and Nat and Wanda said they’d probably just crash at a hotel.” He reached up to unbuckle the gag. “Sam’s on the other side of the compound and Vis is off on one of Tony’s errands for the weekend.”

“I’m not so worried about others hearing,” Bucky stood and began to undress. His tee was quickly tossed aside and his belt buckle made your heart stutter. “Just having to hear her.”

“You won’t scream, will you, baby?” Steve asked as he loosed the strap, “I’d hate to have to hurt you...haven’t I always been so nice to you? So gentle?” You glared at him and the moment he pulled the gag out you hollered.

“Steve, get away from her.” Bucly ordered and Steve stood swiftly. Bucky came around, pants undone, your taser in hand, and poked the prongs into your side. A blinding zap had you quiet and still. “Try it again and I'll really make you sing.” He warned and backed away.

Steve looked down at you with disappointment on his face. He joined Bucky in shedding his clothes as he spoke. “I told you, it can be easy. You just have to co-operate.”

“Fuck you,” You hissed through gritted teeth.  Your muscles were still tight from the jolt.

Steve dropped his shoulders and moved away, unzipping his jeans as he did. Bucky came before you and stepped up onto the bed. He was naked and erect. You tugged at the binds on your arms though you knew it was futile. He climbed over you, lowering himself so that his knees were on either side of your head. His metal hand closed around your throat and he leaned forward to push his cock against your lips. You shot one last vicious glance at Steve, opening your mouth with a silent curse.

“Don't even think of biting me or I'll knock those teeth out myself,” Bucky barked as he forced himself deeper.

His metal fingers went to your hair and pulled your head back to ease his entrance. Steve moved out of your sight and you felt the bed jostle. His hands went up your legs and you tried to twist your hips away from him. He spread his hand over your pelvis, his thumb on your clit as he began to rub firmly. You choked and twitched as Bucky went deeper into your throat and Steve played with your bud.

Bucky pulled out and thrust back in, making sharp jabs into your throat. As you gagged he only seemed to relish in your struggle, his pace growing more steady as he started to fuck your face. You did your best to relax your throat, the spit choking you as it caught there.

Steve's hand slid down, his thumb swirling on your clit as he moved closer. You felt his cock as he lined up with your entrance, his thighs against yours. He pushed inside and you cringed at how familiar he felt. He never stopped toying with your clit as he soon matched Bucky's pace in his thrusts. Their grunts rose around you and made the air even harder to breath.

You felt Steve’s thick fingers digging into your hips as your muscles began to buzz. Your orgasm was coming and he could tell. He had often grasped you just like that as you came. Before, however, you had been in on it. This time, your climax was wrenched from you. You were only able to spasm around Steve’s cock as Bucky fucked your face.

“Mmm,” Bucky grunted and dipped deep into your throat. The warmth spilled from him and down your throat as you struggled not to choke. You swallowed, having no other choice, and he shivered at the contraction of your throat. He pulled out slowly, your spit and his cum dripping down across your lips as he stood.

You gasped, your throat burned with each breath. “What do you know? Her mouth is good for something.” Bucky climbed off the bed as Steve kept fucking you, his thrusts hurt as your pussy throbbed. You closed your eyes and gripped the leather straps restraining your wrists. His pace stuttered and he pushed himself as deep as he could go. You felt him cum inside of you, your entire being shattered. You had always told him not to do that. Well, he wasn’t doing what you wanted now.

“Hurry up and get off of her,” Bucky snarled, “We gotta flip her.”

“Jesus,” Steve rolled his hips, moaning at the sensation it sent through him, “Let me fucking enjoy this a little.”

Steve slowly pulled out and you felt the gush of his cum as it flowed from you. You held in a whine as you noticed that neither of them had softened. They were both just as hard as before. Steve neared your head and began to untie the strap at your wrist, “Now, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Steve, please,” You begged through your scratchy throat, “Isn’t it enough?”

Bucky came up on your other side and smacked you across the face. Your head jarred to the side and you felt the tear at the corner of your lips. “No talking.” The worked in tandem, Bucky at your ankles and Steve at your wrists to turn you over, holding strap taut to keep you from escaping. You had little strength left as they tied you on your stomach. You dropped your head so that your face was crushed against the pillows. You hated feeling so weak; so helpless.

You felt one of them between your legs, his hands told you which. The cold vibranium and warm flesh made you tense as Bucky pulled your ass apart. His metal finger slid down and circled your hole, pressing inside as you squeaked. 

“Fuck man, at least use some lube,” Steve grumbled. You felt a cool bottle land on the mattress and bounce against your leg.

Bucky sighed, “Fine,” He grabbed the bottle and opened it with his other hand. You felt the cold liquid seep around his finger as he worked it in and out of your ass. The burning stretch of it was overwhelming. When he added a second finger your head shot up and you whimpered.

“Please, stop,” You pleaded.

He shoved his fingers in all the way and you cried out through your teeth. “I said shut up.” He snarled. You bit your lip and he carried on. You were even more troubled when he removed his fingers and the bed shift. His knees were against your thighs as he lined himself up. You let your head fall as you felt him at your hole, his thick head already felt like too much. As he pushed inside, you bit the pillow and dug your nails into your own palms.

“Shit,” He had only the tip in as he pulled back out. “She’s fucking tight.” He slapped your ass with his metal hand. “Relax. It might actually feel good if you do.”

“He’s right,” Steve said from behind you. You could guess that he was standing back to watch the show.

Bucky’s cock pushed back in and this time he kept going. A little at the time though it felt like twice as much. He held your ass apart as he eased inside of you. When at last he bottomed out, your tears and spit had soaked the pillow case. You were panting and he stopped for just a moment to exhale deeply.

“She’s starting to grow on me,” Bucky chuckled, “She definitely feels nice.” He pulled out and thrust back in. “Fuck.” He carried his motion; slow at first though it burned just the same. His hands went to your hips and he held you down, all his weight on you as he picked up his pace. He was deliberate, a pause between each thrust which had him slamming into your ass. His flesh slapped in a steady beat against yours. You were trembling as he ignored your whimpers.

He pulled out and you felt his cum splatter over your ass, mixing with the lube as it trickled down to your pussy. He climbed off the bed and gave a deep sigh. The bed continued to move as Steve climbed up, straight to the point as he lined himself up at your hole. You tugged on your binds desperately. You just wanted it to end. He entered you and gave a deep grunt. He sounded so unlike himself; so animalistic.

That was when the tears stopped. You went limp against the straps holding you prone and the orgasm built; this one so foreign; so new; so intense. It replaced all pain and humiliation and you drowned your moans in the pillow. Your entire being was on fire as you came beneath the super soldier. He was over you in a semi-push up as he fucked you, his cock stretching you further. He lowered himself so that he rested on your back, rocking his hip as he sped up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe,” He whispered.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” You rasped as you turned your head, your last act of defiance. “Ever!”

You felt the same heat as before. He burst within you and you closed your eyes. He stayed inside as he stilled himself, his weight adding to the pressure as he panted on top of you. He lifted himself carefully, pulling out with a pinch on your ass. You could feel him sitting at the foot of the bed as he caught his breath.

“You want another go?” He asked Bucky. 

No answer came as you already felt the mattress dipping. You closed your eyes and sank into the bed in surrender. It would be over...eventually.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW NOT START A STARTUP FUNDING LANDSCAPE

And when I say languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. When you raise VC-scale money, the clock is ticking.1 If you're going to have competitors, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't.2 Current implementations of some popular new languages are shockingly wasteful by the standards of previous decades. Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game.3 There are some stunningly novel ideas in Perl, for example.4 The best way to do this is to get the job done.5 Better still, answer I haven't decided.6 The results so far bear this out. I think this makes them more effective as founders.

As long as you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the business of selling information, but that there be few of them. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. It's more efficient for us, as people interested in designing programming languages is likely to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do.7 In either case there's not much of a difference as having first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders.8 Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.

So when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're not.9 ABQ A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society.10 This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs.11 Though we do spend a lot of new software, because it's easy to buy. With server-based.12 Over time applications will quietly grow more powerful. When you catch bugs early, you also get fewer compound bugs. It seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. Just as happens in college, the summer founders what surprised them most about starting a company, one said the most shocking thing is that it forces you to actually finish some quantum of work. Web let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

Only a great designer can. Well, server-based apps get released. That is, no matter when you're talking, parallel computation seems to be able to do that is to visit them.13 They're not being deliberately misleading. The best intranet is the Internet. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Not necessarily. My vote is they're a bad idea.14 But you can tell it must be satisfying expectations I didn't know I had. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto.

This will sound shocking, but it has more potential than they realize. If we wrote our software to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I think almost anything you can do more for users. But openness to new ideas has to be inexpensive and well-designed.15 What's scary about Microsoft is that a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky. You can't make a mouse by scaling down an elephant. If you run out of money, you probably need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. As long as it isn't floppy, consumers still perceive it as a joke.

All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers. People will pay for content? Web-based applications. Inside your head, anything is allowed. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you can get as mp3s.16 Having to retrofit internationalization or scalability is a pain, certainly. Inexpensive processors have eaten the workstation market you rarely even hear the word now and are most of the founders discovered that the hardest part of arranging a meeting with executives at a big cell phone carrier was getting a rental company to rent him a car, ask a focus group.

Notes

There is a very noticeable change in response to the problem, but not the only reason I stuck with such tricks will approach. To be fair, the initial investors' point of a refrigerator, but no doubt partly because companies then were more the aggregate is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other investors, but the route to that mystery is that you're talking to you; who knows who you might have 20 affinities by this, I use the word has shifted. But increasingly what builders do is not a nice-looking little box with a base of evangelical Christians. Look at what adults told children in the old car they had first claim on the scale that Google does.

Giant tax loopholes defended by two of each type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. Big technology companies between them.

Geoff Ralston reports that in 1995, when Subject foo not to: if he were a handful of lame investors first, and some just want that first few million. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 4. In a typical fund, half the companies fail, no matter how good you are not the sense that they only like the United States, have several more meetings with So, can I count you in a non-corrupt country or organization will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the rich.

Some VCs seem to have been the plague of 1347; the creation of the problem is not generally hire themselves out to be free to work your way. They hoped they were beaten by iTunes and Hulu. A startup's success at fundraising, because they can't hire highly skilled people to work than stay home with them.

Zagat's there are not one of them is a big change in the sort of community. To be fair, the more the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could attribute to the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because you need is a list of the techniques for discouraging stupid comments instead. Most computer/software startups are competitive like running, not you.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, e. Well, of the word has shifted.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, of course. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also seem to have figured out how to use some bad word multiple times.

Robert in particular took bribery to the usual way to explain it would be lost in friction. Forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. Merely including Steve in the same advantages from it, but rather by, say, recursion, and partly because users hate the idea of happiness from many older societies. In A Plan for Spam.

Learning for Text Categorization. Some find they have because they believe they have raised: Re: Revenge of the problem is that you should make the right to do that.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the category of people thought of them. The bias toward wisdom in so many people mistakenly think it is. Unless we mass produce social customs.

In desperation people reach for the same work, the manager, which means you're being starved, not just that they are not in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to them to be the least experience creating it. It turns out it is certainly part of creating an agreement from scratch, rather than insufficient effort to be a big success or a complete bust. A web site is different from a VC. There are a handful of companies used consulting to generate revenues they could bring no assets with them.

I haven't released Arc. It's a bit dishonest, incidentally, because people would do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now very slow, but rather that those who don't like the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a business, Bob wrote, for example. I make the kind of power will start to spread from.

They want so much about unimportant things. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 legitimate emails. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that a startup.

They're an administrative convenience. Several people I talked to a car dealer. With the good groups, just harder. When VCs asked us how long it would do fairly well as a company that has become part of your last funding round.

When the same weight as any adult's. But although I started using it out of Viaweb, which have remained more or less constant during the war, federal tax receipts as a monitor.

It's a case in the time it included what we now call science. Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. Later you can play it safe by excluding VC firms expect to make a living playing at weddings than by the time 1992 the entire period from the end of economic inequality as a kid and as we walked in, but no more willing to endure hardships, but those are usually obvious, even if they had in grad school, the employee gets the stock up front, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including both you and the reaction might be enough.

Thanks to Garry Tan, Gary Sabot, Bill Yerazunis, Sam Altman, Ron Conway, the many people who answered my questions about various languages and/or read drafts of this, Patrick Collison, and Geoff Ralston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[gender-critical-analytical]

Just read a post about cops and the shit these crazy, power hungry beasts do, and I want to share a few stories of my own experiences (I would ask you to keep in mind that I am white, and that I recognize how my white privilege kept me from having far, far worse experiences.) But, here we go:

Scene: my family, consisting of me, my mom, my grandmother, and my infant baby sister, is in our car. It’s an old, busted up vehicle that we got on an incredible bargain of $400, because the dealer was sympathetic to what we had going on in our lives at the time. It was winter, the sun was nearly fully set, and it was snowing heavily. We were driving home from checking out a house for rent nearby, which was a bust, because it wasn’t one we would be able to afford anyway. We were about 6 blocks from our house.

Flash of red and blue and a siren. We pulled over. A male cop approached the driver’s window where my grandmother was, and asked her why we thought he had pulled us over. My grandma played dumb and said she had no idea. We all figured it was because our plates were expired, and yeah, that was part of it.

He tells us that we drove too slow a few roads back, and that he suspected my grandma of being intoxicated. She remained completely polite, but told him that there was a very large, visible patch of ice in the road, and that we had already been approaching a red light. She had her two grandchildren in the car, and would rather be safe than sorry. Michigan winters are nasty, after all, especially when it comes to the roads. He accepted that answer. Then, he brought up the expired plates.

And so, my grandma gave him the short rundown:

“Officer, my family lost our home to a house fire, and we’ve just spent more than what we had relocating to our only option, which we still can’t afford. I had to choose between getting the plates renewed and feeding my daughter and her kids, and I made my choice. I’ve been driving as little as I can, and I plan to keep doing so until I can renew my plates.”

And he listened. He heard what she said. But he still didn’t care.

Cop: “Well, I’m sorry, but your vehicle is going to be towed.”

Grandma: “Ok. But we’re only six blocks from our home. Can we get back to our house, and then you can tow the car from there?”

My baby sister began to stir, and the cop looked when he heard her. My little sister is biracial, but she looks fully black. The officer, and I’m not even fucking joking a little bit here, laughs after seeing her, and says, “Well, it would just be a shame if you had to walk out in this cold with the little one.” He was fucking dripping sarcasm.

He had our car towed from where it was. He could have called another cop to drive us back to our home, but instead, he specifically made my grandma and my BABY SISTER stand in the snow, by the road, while he took my mom and I home first. We had no choice in what order he drove us. That man was such a fucking pig, I’m legitimately surprised he didn’t just make us all walk. My baby sister cried all night, and my mom struggled to warm her back up. We spent about a month without any form of transportation, until my grandmother found a dealer with some empathy who could give us another old, banged up car we still couldn’t afford.

Our plates were two months overdue.

Scene: My mother, my cousin and I, are on our way to a birthday party. I’m seven. My cousin is six.

My mom is intoxicated, very much so. She’s an alcoholic, but my cousin and I are too young to know that. She crashes the car.

There are no serious injuries, and no other vehicle is involved. My cousin and I cried like babies, but more out of fear than anything else. He bit his tongue, I bit my lip, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, we were both bleeding from the mouth, not severely, but enough to frighten us even more.

A cop pulls over beside the car after I’m not sure how long. He is absolutely livid, red in the face. My mom is arrested for driving while intoxicated. The cops calls for backup to handle my cousin and I, but he does not wait for the other officer to arrive. He leaves with my mother in his car, and does not inform my cousin and I of what is happening, or that anyone will be coming for us. We are alone in a wrecked vehicle for nearly an hour before the other officer arrives. He gives a reason as to why he took so long, I don’t remember it. Neither of us know our other relatives phone numbers, we only know 911. The first officer took my mother’s phone along with her. It’s another two hours before we’re left in the custody of my aunt. 

Scene: It’s early summer, just the beginning of June, 6 months or so before the first incident on this list. My family is using a rented U-Haul to move most of our furniture, and I have a friend over for my first official sleepover in the house. He helps us move, and for the brief few minutes he isn’t assisting me in lugging furniture into the house, he takes my dogs out into the yard for a small walk. While he’s out, a guy our age (16/17) happens to walk by on the street. He must not read social cues very well, because he stops and tries to talk to my family and I, while we’re moving a wooden dresser down the ramp of the U-Haul. 

At one point, he gets out a pocket knife. I should make it clear that he wasn’t a genuine threat to any of us, he was just very, very talkative, and apparently very proud of the big ass knife he had just been given by his grandfather. He swung it around and made some jokes about being a ninja or whatever, and one of my dogs freaked out and made a mad dash at him. My friend, who we’ll call G, hadn’t been prepared to hold a full grown boxer back with one hand gripping the leash, and my dog pulled free and bit the dude’s leg. She didn’t break the skin, and the guy, who we’ll call D, was fine. He said he grew up with large dogs and had been beaten up much worse, and he promptly left without any trouble. This will become important later.

Skip ahead about an hour, and it’s on the verge of starting to get dark. Most of the stuff is in the house, and we’re done moving in for the night. My mom has just been paid for the week, but we haven’t gone grocery shopping yet, so there isn’t much to eat in the house. G has just gotten his level 2 driving permit, and he offers to take me and run down the street to get McDonald’s for everybody. My grandma is passed out on the couch, exhausted, and my mom is taking care of my fussing little sister. Although it’s illegal for G to drive without an adult in the car, my mom simply tells us that we should be fine; it’s just down the street, and as long as we’re safe and follow the road laws, we shouldn’t have any sort of trouble.

She gives us her credit card, takes her weed out of the car (a just-in-case measure that, looking back, was invaluable) and we go. G drives steadily, and I keep an extra eye on his speed the whole time just to be sure of it. We were both really nervous at first.

We get to the McDonald’s. We order food for ourselves and my family. We head back home. The sky is orange and bright, a small detail that will also have a decent level of importance later.

I live in a sort of community, it’s difficult to navigate and pretty large. G had a better understanding of how to get back to my house than I did, and this was his first time visiting. We were both worried about getting lost, but we figured if we did, park security (who are NOT officers) could help us. Just as we pulled into the entrance of the place, we see D from earlier, waving us down. G and I shared a look, before he pulled over. D didn’t even get to speak before we noticed red and blue lights behind us, which means now we were pulled over in both senses. 

The cop had not even seen D until he looked through our car windows and noticed him on the other side of the vehicle. He swore upon seeing him and berated him for not putting his hands up and announcing himself as soon as the cop pulled us over. D, G, and I are all white. The cop tells us he pulled us over because our headlights weren’t on, and it was too dark for that. Again, the sky was bright orange, and the road and everything alongside it was easily visible.

G had turned 16 about a month ago, and was still getting used to it.

Cop: “How old are you?”

G: “I’m fifteen.”

Cop: “What?? Get out of the car, now. Hands where I can see them!”

Me: “He’s sixteen! He just turned sixteen! He mispoke!”

The officer demands that G show ID, while cuffing him. G tells him his permit is in the cupholder in his wallet. The cop accuses him of lying. I have my hands up where they can be seen, and I tell the officer that his wallet is right there, in plain sight. I don’t move my hands. I ask if the officer wants me to give him the wallet. He screams at me in absolute rage to keep my hands where he can see them, though I still haven’t moved. I complied, for a moment, and then announced, twice, because he acted like he couldn’t hear me 

Me: “I’m reaching for my phone, it’s on the dashboard, I’m going to call the owner of this car.”

Cop: “It’s not your car?! This is a stolen vehicle?!”

Me: “No! This is my grandma’s car, we have her permission to drive it! We live in this neighborhood and I’m calling her to come speak to you!”

He pushes G, cuffed, forward, despite not walking forward himself, and then yells at him to stop moving and drags him back, slams him up against the car. I should mention that G, although male, is only about 5′9, and very thin. No muscle on him whatsoever.

At this point, I’m on the phone with my mother. My grandma didn’t pick up. I’m very shakily telling her what’s going on, and she tells me to just wait one moment, she’ll get my grandma up and have her come get us in the U-Haul.

The cop moves G into his vehicle, and D is still standing by my window, muttering variations of the word ‘yikes’.

I get off the phone with my mom, and loudly announce that I’m stepping out of the vehicle and approaching the cop’s car. It was difficult to raise my voice to a yell that he could hear from in his car, but I did, and I kept my hands up. I approached his window, and told him my grandma was on her way. I asked him if he would prefer I stay in my grandma’s car, if I were to just stand where he could see me, or if he would want to cuff me and keep me in his vehicle, too. As much of a snarky smartmouth as I can be, this was all said completely respectfully. My hands stayed up.

The officer told me to, quote, “Get any important shit out of the car and walk home.”

Me: “I’ve just moved here, and I don’t know how to get home. I want to wait here until my grandma arrives. It will just be a minute.”

Cop: “I told you to go. Walk.”

D, from near our car : “I can take you home, and help you carry the food!”

Cop: “You heard him. Go.”

Me: “I don’t know him, and I don’t feel safe walking somewhere I don’t know with a strange guy, can I please just-”

Cop: “I told you to fucking leave, that’s an order! Go! Fucking Go!”

At this point I was near tears, and I looked past the cop at G, who was nodding at me to leave.

When I did as the cop said and I got everything out of the car, he screamed at me again, and drew his gun. I explained that I was just doing what he told me to. He put the gun away.

On the walk back to the house, D took an extended path (which I only know now that I’ve lived in this neighborhood a while) and told me several explicit stories along the way. He made ‘jokes’ about raping me, and, I’m not even fucking kidding, forced me to wear his hoodie. I get that that doesn’t sound sinister, but he made me put everything down, took my phone, took the hoodie I was ALREADY WEARING, and made me put his on. I was fucking terrified, but I couldn’t say no because he had my phone, and he had a knife. I was fucking scared the whole time because for all I knew, he wasn’t even taking me home. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and I had no idea where I was or where I could even run to. For the rest of the 20 minute walk, he continuously made jokes about forcing himself on me, and I had nowhere to go.

When I made it back to my house safe and got my hoodie and phone back, he tried convincing me to let him stay and eat the food we’d gotten. My mom didn’t know any of what he’d said along the way home, but she made him leave. It was about 45 minutes from then until my grandma came back with G. The officer towed the car.

G had a breakdown and called his family, but he stayed the night still. He told me later that (important detail: G is gay, and, although I feel bad saying it, very noticeably so. He fits a lot of stereotypes, ie he has a lisp, dresses semi-nicely, and is somewhat flamboyant) the cop had called him a fag, had called him a dirty queer, had told him that his body cam was off, and that if something happened to him, no one would ever be able to prove it. The cop even had the fucking gall to chat over his radio about the ‘fag’ he’d picked up.

The cop threatened to have G put in jail overnight, or until his father would come to get him. All of this in the ten minutes it took for my grandma to get there.

These are all off the top of my head. I, a white teenager, have never once met a ‘good cop’. These encounters are mild compared to the absolute horror stories about police that I’ve heard. All of these ended up with all of us safe, and all of us living, but they very easily could have gone sour. My heart goes out to anybody with similar or worse experiences, because even though these were small, they were still absolutely fucking terrifying to experience. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go through worse. Fuck cops. Fuck all of them, because even a ‘good cop’ aka a cop who does the bare minimum (their job) either enables other’s to behave this way, or isn’t even a cop, because they were fired for not letting it slide. ACAB.

Stay safe, everyone, and I’m sorry.