#OKAY IN MY DEFENSE this one was written before march SO

[hqmillioncorn]

Lalapril 4/3: Affection

“There he goes again! He’s so in love! As if lightning struck him from above! I LoOOooOve you my hero~! You are my trUuUE LooOoveeeE~! Butter won’t you stop your silly dreaming please?!”

Butter took in a long and heavy sigh.

The foyer was completely empty except for him and Cinnamon who was sitting silently on the coffee table in front of him, munching on a regular sized strawberry wafer cookie. 

She had been watching Butter as he did his moping thing, hoping that he would be able to snap himself out of his funk on his own.

Cinnamon was sure that Butter’s current mood was the result of what happened when everyone had left from Limsa Lominsa. She hadn’t seen it herself but Butter made sure to tell her and Pancake that Babycorn had waved him off personally from the boat.

As if that hadn’t been enough Babycorn had also apparently told Butter something along the lines of, ‘Take care! I’ll miss you Butter!’ It was specifically being called by name that sent Butter cartwheeling off the docks while giggling.

Having to be fished out of the ocean aside, Cinnamon expected Butter to be in an even better mood than usual for at least the next few weeks.

Instead, he collapsed into a pile of sadness the moment he stepped back into the mansion.

Since then, Butter had been sighing to himself in different parts of the house. Pancake assumed it was just his usual romantic yearning and left him on his own to hang out with Linnet and the others.

Cinnamon stayed behind (not because she didn’t have anyone to hang out with or anything!) and watched Butter brood around the mansion. At some point Butter had grabbed the blue rose Babycorn had given him and twirled it around by the stem in one hand while also wistfully staring out a window.

Cinnamon couldn't believe it had come to this.

She set her regular sized wafer cookie down and flew over to where Butter sat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but could you be any less in love?” Cinnamon feared that the next thing after this would be Butter going to stand at the docks every morning just in case Babycorn came back that day.

“...Huh?” Butter looked up at her, “Sorry Cinnamon. I’m just…” There was another looooong sigh from him and Cinnamon could feel her mental fortitude breaking down.

Cinnamon flew in a circle around Butter’s head, playfully tapping him on the forehead. “Hellooo?! You should be happy that Babycorn said goodbye to you!! She didn’t say goodbye to anyone else!”

Granted many of those that Babycorn would call her good friends were actually going on the trip with her so there would be no need for her to wave goodbye to them but that was besides the point.

“I am happy!” Butter blushed, a dumb smile on his face, “Like super duper happy…”

“Then what’s going on?” Cinnamon was literally out of ideas of what could be going on with him.

“I’m just thinking…What if Babycorn isn’t into guys like me?”

“Guys like…you?” Cinnamon was a little lost.

“You know!” 

Cinnamon looked him up and down. “No I don’t know.” She raised one of her sleeves up to her chin to think. “Do you mean she doesn’t like guys with pointy hair? That would make her kind of a hypocrite. Since her hair is plenty pointy.”

“Noooo! I’m not talking about my hair!”

Though Butter had said that it still didn’t stop him from tugging on one of the spikiest parts of his hair.

“That’s not what I meant…I meant…”  Butter let out another lovesick sigh while still tugging at his hair spike, “I meant-I’m pretty short aren’t I?”

Cinnamon’s wings froze in shock for a few seconds.”Whaaaaat?? No! Of course you’re not short I mean-! Look at you! You’re taller than me!”

“That’s true but…” Butter sat back down on the couch, putting the blue rose back into its vase. “I might be taller than you but it doesn’t really matter unless I’m taller than Hildibrand.”

Butter probably hadn’t really noticed it but the way he had said the inspector's name had carried a lot more venom to it than Cinnamon, let alone anybody else, had heard his voice carry.

He let out another long sigh. “...Or as cool as him. Or stronger than him. Or more handsome than him……” Butter kept on listing more and more traits that Babycorn had told him about Hildibrand over the years. As every time Babycorn had come back from an adventure with the Inspector she would rush over to Butter with all the details.

Cinnamon couldn’t bear to watch this anymore. Something had to be done.

“Wait here! I’ll be back in a bit!!” Cinnamon waved her sleeve at Butter to get his attention.

Then, in a flash Cinnamon had flown away and then flown back. She was carrying a large sheet of paper. Its weight was clearly causing Cinnamon some distress, judging from the way she was quickly flying lower and lower to the ground. So Butter swooped in from the couch to give her some much needed help she would never admit she needed. 

After regaining the composure she never lost (allegedly) Cinnamon flew in between Butter and the paper, sitting herself down on his left hand.

“What you’re looking at right now, my dear Butter, is the handiwork of me and Pancake’s hard work!” Cinnamon smirked and stayed confidently silent while Butter looked at the piece of paper in his hands. 

What he was holding looked to be some sort of chart with several names and drawings of people.

Most of them were people that Butter recognized.

He also recognized Pancake’s writing right away and it was clear that this project must have been done more than a few years ago. Butter knew that she had recently started writing her letters with a bit more flair than she used to. 

Butter would have to compliment Pancake on her improvement next time he saw her.

Butter’s good mood came to a dead halt when he recognized Hildibrand’s face on the chart. His face made a sort of grimace that Cinnamon instantly caught on to. Hildibrand was about the only thing that made Butter upset nowadays.

Not even his own neglectful parents got this much of a rise out of him.

“Don’t worry your little lovesick heart Butter! Hildibrand is the reason me and Pancake made this chart!”

“You made it for him?!” Butter sounded distraught.

“Wha-?  No!!” Cinnamon angrily flapped her wings, they glowed a little bit more red than usual. “We made this to combat anyone that got in the way of you finally dating Babycorn!!”

“Oh!” Butter was almost speechless. “That’s really sweet of you two…”

“See over here?” Cinnamon flew over and pointed at a quickly drawn picture of Raya-o-Senna. “There was a rumor that Babycorn had a little thing for her once. So we wrote down that while it could work she’s a pretty low level threat because they don’t see each other too often.”

“What what-?”  

Butter caught sight of a drawing of Hildibrand, because of course he would be on here. Why wouldn’t he be?

“Why does it say ‘will be eliminated’ under this drawing of Hildibrand?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Under him was a picture of Emmanellain. “This guy we filed under low level too. He might be rich and from what I hear-charismatic. But he’s nothing to worry about! Since he’s from Ishgard.”

Butter’s face lit up. “Is it because Babycorn doesn’t like the cold?!” 

“Exactly!!” Cinnamon crossed her arms, “Look at you Mr. Babycorn expert. You got it even worse than I thought.”

Butter looked away and blushed. “That’s not…! Everyone knows that! She makes sure everyone knows so that she can pack her favorite yellow sweater that pushes her cheeks up and makes her hair look a little fluffier from the back!”

Cinnamon raised an eyebrow at him.

Butter waved his arms up and down. “It’s true everyone knows thaaaat!!!”

“No they don’t Butter!” Cinnamon flew over and grabbed the top of the chart and slightly wiggled it. She was, in fact, trying to severely shake it but with her size she only managed a slight wiggle. “Trust us! Me and Pancake did our research and NONE of the people here are a good enough match for Babycorn!”

“Cinnamon…”

“You just have to learn to have more confidence in yourself!” Cinnamon flew around him in a circle, “You got all the makings of a perfect Babycorn boyfriend! The chart says so! The science says so!!”

“I-I mean if you say so!”

He didn’t have the heart to tell either Pancake or Cinnamon that in the end it all really depended on what Babycorn would choose for herself. Even if he was perfect for her. According to love experts Pancake and Cinnamon at least.

Of course Butter would be heartbroken if she chose someone else, but in the end all he really wanted was for Babycorn to be happy. For her to live her very best life with the person she loved the most.

Even now Butter could still see Babycorn’s little lopsided smile looking back at him.

Waving back at him.

He sighed, with a smile.

“I’ll wait patiently for her and I’ll never stop loving her no matter what happens.”

While Butter was distracted looking longingly out into the distance he didn’t notice how Cinnamon rolled up the chart into a large tube of paper until it was smacking him on the back of the head.

“Ow?!” Butter held up both of his hands to the back of his head and looked behind him. Cinnamon was flying in place and barring her surprisingly sharp teeth right at him.

“What did I just say?! I told you! Don’t wait! You take the initiative!!”

Butter blushed a deep red. “...But it’s embarrassing…” When the topic of confessing to Babycorn ever crossed his mind his speech became nothing more than an alphabet soup of words.

“You’re going to have to figure it out eventually…” Suddenly Cinnamon looked like she had an idea. Specifically her wings stopped flapping and she got a mischievous grin on her face. “I’ve got it!!!”

Butter, ever the supportive friend, could almost never catch up to Cinnamon’s true intentions.“What’s up?” he asked.

“Once Babycorn and the others come back! That’s when you’ll make your move!”

“Huh?!”

“Imagine it Butter!” She flew in close enough to his face and grabbed at his coat with her sleeves. “They’re all back from their long trip, a loooong boat ride back home. Babycorn starts to get off the boat-!” Cinnamon flew back and took some invisible steps off of an invisible boat.

“She looks around to get her bearings…When BAM!!”

“Bam??” Butter had no idea where Cinnamon was going with this.

“Bam! You’re there Butter! With your best clothes! A bouquet of flowers in hand!! Then before anyone knows what’s going on-! You ask Babycorn out on a date!!”

“WHAT?!” Butter blushed and his face felt the warmest it had felt since they left Limsa Lominsa that morning. “I-I-I c-can’t do that!!”

“Not right now you can’t!”

“What?”

“Everyone said they would be gone for a while right?” Specifically Cinnamon remembered that Lunya said they would be gone for an undetermined amount of time. Which Cinnamon had personally translated as ‘a long time’ of course. “That gives you enough time to get ready!”

“I-I mean I don’t know…!”

Cinnamon interrupted Butter before he could say anything else. “This is it Butter! It’s now or never!” It was almost certainly not, now or never, as Cinnamon suspected but she was willing to say anything to give Butter that extra push.

Butter closed his eyes and sat in silence for far longer than Cinnamon expected him to.

Then…

“Okay!” He nodded, “I’ll do it! I’ll ask Babycorn out when she comes back home!!”

Cinnamon couldn’t even begin to contain her excitement, she must have done a dozen loops in the air at that very second from the sheer amount of happiness she was feeling at that moment. “Yesssssss!!!” She couldn’t wait to tell Pancake about this!!

“Butter! You are going to ask her out perfectly! Nothing will go wrong!!”

Butter laughed awkwardly, he was beginning to regret his abrupt decision already. Though a part of him was also metaphorically doing loops in the air out of excitement. Especially if Babycorn’s answer would be ‘yes.’

“If you say so…”

[essektheylyss]

WWE Final Result: Eventually, There's Only One Left...

And the polls are closed.

It has been a wild week, and these thirty-two wizards have sure been through some situations. You've cheered! You've cried. You've laughed, I hope. You've written glorious speeches, made videos, edited memes, and shown off some impressive artistic prowess. To get a bit sentimental here, it was a joy and an honor to campaign alongside and against you all, and to see what awe-inspiring and absurd things you have created in defense of your wizards.

But as it always must, it has come down to one.

Our winner of the World Wizard Entertainment is, with the power of friendship, comedic bits, and unstoppable tiddies: Caleb Widogast.

Here is the trophy, it's leaving my hands— and— it's already gone. Does anyone see Mrs. Brenatto? No? Okay.

The Keeper of Scrolls has kindly invited the competitors out for drinks on the Por'co tab before hopping over to Tal'dorei to clean out Mr. Gilmore's shop of arcane foci, so there will be no opportunity for autographs, and if you are looking for glorious goods, I suggest you try the Marquet locations.

All four of Pumat Sol will be out of commission for a week—that shopkeep parties hard.

(Oh no, yeah, no one's dead, hahaha, when I said there was only one left you thought—? oh boy, no, these weren't death matches, you're thinking of Garyon Garrington's Plunder Games. No, they're not airing right now. Something about a lawsuit, I think.)

If you would like to relive the saga of the World Wizard Entertainment, you can find those posts here, along with the original rankings, methodology, poll results, and campaigning. Do peek through the notes for more spectacular commentary, as it is delightful. (And if you would like to see even more of the absurd and wacky content that did not make it into the main tag while I was trying not to clutter things, #VETHSWEEP.)

Now please check your DMs, as one lucky winner has been chosen... to pay for my ensuing therapy bill! This kind of mental tenacity ain't cheap, folks.

The Ultimate Losers tournament commences on Thursday, March 2nd, at 7pm PST. As if defeat at the hands of a kind, underappreciated teacher and animal lover wasn't enough, Ludinus Da'leth is coming BACK FOR MORE against the Bells Hells!

And lastly, thank you all so much for participating. I know some of us have had our differences, but now, at the end, we come together—and if there's one thing we can all agree on, it's Veth Brenatto's Big Naturals.

(Wait— Sorry, who's calling? Say that name again. Vinni— Vince? Vince Mc—? Nah, don't recognize him.

Put it through to voicemail.)

[yeonjunszn]

like hot summer ☼

pairing park sunghoon x f!reader

word count 8k

genres fluff﹒slight angst ﹒smut

warnings 18+ minors dni, mature language, best friends to lovers trope, sharing a bed/room trope, insufferable heeseung + slightly less insufferable jake, features enha jay, txt beomgyu, taehyun, and huening + skz jeongin, also features nct dream, i’m so sorry for doing u so dirty jisung 💔, mentions of alcohol, hoon is kinda mean for like a singular second, vaginal fingering, marking?, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it 😒), finishing inside, Lots of Kissing, they’re kinda gross at the end like i made myself mad with how cute they were being so of course i had to ruin it… u’ll see 😇

summary you’ve been best friends for years now, so why does the idea of sharing a room with him get you so flustered?

more HAPPY 900 FOLLOWERS!! thank u guys so much for giving me this platform to write even if it is for boys who have no idea i exist 😭 writing has always been something very dear to me since a young age and i’m so grateful for being able to get this far on this site. i’ve had an issue with reach in the past and this blog has been nothing but kind to me. i’m forever indebted to all of u and my future followers 🫶 here’s a small token of my appreciation — i havent written anything nsfw since ? march ? i believe 💀 so i apologize if this is rough.. it was originally a vernon fic before i decided not to write for svt anymore and i actually started it in july 😭😭 which is why it’s another summer based fic LMFAOAOAO anyways it was supposed to be like 5k and i got carried away so here u go <3

“please do not take those with you.”

you look up from the suitcase you were stuffing clothes in, a pair of your most comfortable underwear currently in your hands. heeseung gives you a dissatisfied look, standing from his spot in your desk chair to snatch them and throw the garment behind him.

“okay? what the hell?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“we’re going on a trip where you’ll most likely be meeting new people. i don’t think you want to be dressed like a grandma when you do.” he explains with an eye roll, as if it was obvious.

“first of all, rude, they’re cute. second of all, i don’t plan on sleeping around,” you frown, glancing behind him at your poor underwear on the floor. “i should’ve just asked hoon to help me pack. you suck.”

“i’m pretty sure he’d also tell you to ditch the granny-panties.” he shrugs, sitting back on the rolling chair.

“n-no! i wouldn’t have even let him see me packing my undergarments.” you say defensively.

“you’ve been best friends this long and he’s never seen your underwear at least once? what makes me so special.” the brunette snorts.

“you’re… you.”

he gasps in feign offense, slapping his chest. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“don’t take it personally! i’d probably let jake see my underwear too,” you defend your words, rifling through your clothes to make sure everything you needed was good to go. when you glance up at heeseung, he has a grimace on his face and you realize what you just said. “stop it! i meant because i see you both like brothers, so it wouldn’t be weird.”

“there are two things to be discussed here; one being the fact that you’d let bitchless, has never felt the touch of a woman in his life, jake sim, see your underwear— even if you think of him as a brother. and two being the fact that sunghoon is somehow different despite knowing him the same amount of time as us.” he raises an eyebrow as you turn to your dresser in search for a pair of replacement panties, since he so graciously tossed aside your favorites, then zip your suitcase shut.

with a grunt, you lug the thing off your bed, checking your appearance in the mirror since you were getting picked up soon. you peek over your shoulder at the brunette, narrowing your eyes. “i hope you know that you’re the absolute bane of my existence, lee heeseung.”

a couple hours later you find yourself sipping on a margarita, poolside at the airbnb you and your friends were renting. the beach was within walking distance, but you didn’t feel like going so you stayed back by yourself. you didn’t mind it at all, because it was probably the only chance you’d get to be alone in a house full of boys.

nine of you crammed into a single house was not ideal, especially considering you were the only girl in your group, but you planned this trip every year. loud, gross, and annoying antics aside, you loved them more than anything. (except maybe when they asked you to set any of them up with one of your girl friends.)

you also felt like you needed a bit of reprieve before you called it a night, since you weren’t given the privilege of your own room this time. all of you made the grave mistake of putting beomgyu in charge of booking the airbnb and his dumbass forgot until about a month ago, when he scrambled to find something within everyone’s standards and big enough to accommodate your large party. and while he was able to secure something, it did mean you’d have to have a roommate.

everyone agreed that it’d be okay if it was just you and one other person to respect your boundaries. rooming arrangements varied from year to year depending on how you decided, but this was the first time you were included. the boys got straight into it the moment you all set foot on the property, arguing in the front yard while you figured out how to work the keypad on the door. due to your ignorance to their shenanigans, you didn’t know who your temporary roommate was until the whole ordeal was a done deal.

before anything was set in stone, there was a unanimous choice to give you and whoever you ended up with the master bedroom, because none of them wanted you biting their heads off for hogging the bathroom. in the first room (the one next to the master), was heeseung, beomgyu, and jeongin, delegated by a game of rock paper scissors. by some miracle or just sheer dumb luck, the three idiots wound up together and celebrated by hugging in a circle and jumping around like elementary schoolers. the second room went to jay, jake, taehyun, and kai. this left one person— park sunghoon.

had you participated in the actual game, you would’ve started a riot to switch roommates. hell, you’d even share a room with jake, and that said everything about how you were feeling towards this situation.

it’s not that you didn’t want to room with sunghoon, per se, it was more like you were afraid to room with him. he was decently calm and an easy person to get along with for the most part. except his ability to tease you in any situation lit a fire under you. his jokes that would seem belittling to anyone else felt flirty and it drove you crazy. all of the guys in your friend group were good looking, but you always found yourself gravitating more towards sunghoon. (besides, you could never in a million years see yourself making out with someone like taehyun; who you thought was quite honestly prettier than you or beomgyu; who enjoyed personally talking your ear off every opportunity he got.)

when the boys finally come back from the beach, the sun has set and you, yourself, had just returned from picking up dinner. the nine of you ate with comfortable conversation here and there, exhausted from the long day you just had, before drawing the evening to a close.

you feel awkward trudging up the stairs to your room with sunghoon in tow, like if you say the wrong thing you’ll alter the entire course of your friendship. he tells you that you can shower first and so you do, but halfway through, you realize you forgot to grab you clothes on the way in. you curse at yourself as you rinse your body wash, switching off the water.

you wrap your towel around yourself timidly, well aware that it’s the only thing stopping sunghoon from seeing your bare body. with a gulp, you reach for the door handle, pushing it open slowly. he’s sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone, uninformed of your presence. you kneel down to your suitcase to quickly grab what you need so you can rush back into the bathroom and change, but the universe hates you and doesn’t think it should be that easy.

“shit shit shit shit,”

you frantically sift through your clothes after getting your undergarments, only for your pajamas to be missing. you remember packing them and you know heeseung was there when you—

you were going to murder lee heeseung.

fuck him and his overt desire to make your life a living hell. first there was the underwear thing and now this. did he not think your care bear pajamas were cute enough to bring on this trip? either way, you couldn’t wait to strangle him, your fingers wiggling in anticipation.

“hey, is everything okay?” sunghoon’s voice calls out, pulling you away from your nefarious plotting. your eyes widen almost comically because you’re still very much naked under your towel and you don’t have clothes to sleep in.

“uh— i— i think i forgot to pack— i mean— i can’t find my pajamas.” you admit shamefully, too embarrassed to look up at him.

the bed creaks lightly, notifying you that he got up. you stand from your crouched position, careful not to accidentally flash him. he rummages through his own suitcase, spinning around to toss a t-shirt at you. you catch it with your free hand and your cheeks are still impossibly warm. you’re not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you, or if he really did rake his vision over your figure.

your heart is racing mortifyingly fast so you give him a tight lipped smile and raise your hand in thanks, bringing it back down just as fast when you think about the fact that you were holding your underwear in the same hand.

you think that’s the fastest you’ve ever run away from something, leaning back against the door while pressing the back of your palm to your forehead, your chest heaving. confidence wasn’t a weakness to you and it pissed you off to no end that it seemed to be only when sunghoon was around that you acted like a complete clown.

there was no chance of you surviving this trip.

the following day, you and the boys had gone out for an early lunch. because you were such a big group, they split you into two different tables. yours consisted of jake, heeseung, beomgyu, and jeongin. the entire time you kept your glare on the brunette sitting directly across from you, even as you shoveled rice into your mouth.

“woah, y/n. if looks could kill, hee would be dead by now.” jake laughs, pointing at you with his chopsticks.

“good,” you say flatly. “that’s what i want.”

heeseung looks thoroughly offended by your statement, clicking his tongue in response. “i don’t know why you hate me so much.”

“oh really?” you ask with a small scoff, sarcasm leaking through your words.

“what’d he do?” beomgyu snorts, flicking his eyes between you and heeseung curiously.

you don’t take your eyes off of the latter, rather you give him an even harsher stare than before. you squint slightly, crossing your legs and leaning back into your chair. “he was with me when i was packing my clothes yesterday and when i went to change after i got out of the shower last night, my pajamas were missing. and i swear i packed them. i even double checked my suitcase.”

jeongin purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. “the care bear pajamas?”

“the care bear pajamas!” you exclaim.

“wow, heeseung, it’s like you’re asking to be suffocated with a pillow in your sleep.”

“that was such an oddly specific cause of death.”

“wait a damn minute! how do you even know it was me? why are you just assuming shit like that?” he defends, picking up his hands like he’s innocent of all crimes. jake holds back a laugh at his reaction and jeongin gives him a deadpan expression.

“why are you being so defensive about it? clearly that means it was you.”

“i agree! i know this is apart of his stupid ‘get-y/n-laid’ agenda. what if i don’t wanna get laid?!” you flail your arms exasperatedly.

beomgyu holds up a finger to halt you, scrunching his eyebrows together. “everyone wants to get laid. you’re no exception.”

you narrow your gaze at him as if to say ‘not helping’ and he shuts up, squeezing his lips together. if there was anything he could’ve said in that moment, that was not it. especially not when you were trying to prove your case. you were an independent woman! you didn’t need to sleep around if you didn’t want to! (you did, with a specific person, but that's besides the point.)

“so what’d you end up wearing to sleep?” jeongin asks, resting his chin in his palm before gasping. “wow, n/n, sunghoon got to see you half naked?”

“no! he lent me a shirt!” you dispute frantically.

“boring,” jake drags out the o. “i think i have an extra you can borrow for tonight if you don’t wanna wear that one again.”

“please, you’re a lifesaver, jake,” you clasp your hands together. “unlike someone by the name of lee heeseung, who’s currently on my hit list. you better sleep with one eye open by the way.”

“could you be a little quiet with it though? i share a room with him.” beomgyu throws in.

“don’t worry, gyu. i've been googling different ways that would be silent, quick, and successful.” you fist bump him, before resuming your eating.

“i don’t get why you’re not groveling at my feet and thanking me right now. i did you a favor, you know,” heeseung huffs, his words slightly muffled by the food filling his mouth. “you get to keep his shirt and sleep in the same bed as him. isn’t that a win?”

“i don’t like him like that, seung.” you say a bit harsher than you intended. the table grows quiet at your outburst, even if they all speculate that you’re lying. the silence causes the other table to look over in concern.

whether you’re just extremely unlucky, or the gods actually think you’re a waste of a human being, you don’t know, but things keep screwing up in your favor. you make accidental eye contact with sunghoon, whose lips are slightly turned downward when he sees how distressed you appear.

it pisses you off.

it pisses you off because all you want to do is kiss those same lips until you can’t breathe. you want him to press them all over your skin, making you hot and bothered. you want him to whisper sweet sweet nothings into your ear and pepper little smooches along the shell of it with them. it pisses you off because you know he doesn’t feel the same.

and it’s so fucking annoying.

you’re probably the only girl he’d never see that way, thanks to the long history you share. you’ll always be another one of the guys to him. you’re someone he knows will be there for him to fall back on when a talking stage fails. you’re someone he knows will sit there and listen to his tales of how he got his dick wet, listen to his bragging.

it should deter your feelings, honestly. not only due to the fact that you have no chance with him, but because he was your best friend. you shouldn’t be mad at him for treating you as such. except you can’t help that you are.

after lunch, the group decided you might as well have another beach day, seeing as it was within walking distance from the airbnb. since you weren’t much of a beach fan (you hated the salty air and, even worse, the sand), the boys allowed you to pick the activity for the night.

there was a club you passed by on your way back from the restaurant that looked intriguing, so that was what you landed on.

you watched your friends mess around by the water as you stayed planted on a beach towel under an umbrella, sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. your body weight rested on your palms as you leaned back, soaking up the warmth on your skin. your cute white, shimmery bikini was a head turner, guys staring as they walked by you, ogling at your sunbathing.

you half hoped someone would just go up to you instead of drooling from afar, but at the same time, the thought of a stranger approaching you made you nervous. though, it would provide a decent distraction.

you try to act surprised when someone finally takes the bait.

he’s an attractive guy, you’ll admit, with dark hair that falls onto his forehead, slightly in his eyes which are also obscured by a pair of sunglasses. he ruffles it a bit before dropping himself on the sand beside you. he doesn’t talk for a few minutes, just copying your actions.

a small smile makes way onto your lips at his nonchalance and you turn to face him, pushing your shades up on top of your head. he does the same, giving you his own smile. now that you have a full view of his features, you can 100% say that he’s indeed handsome.

with an extended hand, he says, “hi, i’m park jisung.”

you return the gesture, shaking it with a firm grip. “l/n y/n.”

“wow, pretty name for a pretty girl. your parents must’ve known what they were doing.” he flirts with a laugh, almost like it’s second nature for him.

you can’t hide how bashful the compliment makes you, a tiny giggle bubbling from your chest. the bikini gave you a confidence boost when you put it on, but despite that, you were still you. so hearing little things like that always made you shy, especially because you weren’t used to it. how could you? being friends with a bunch of boys and all, guys never really cared to look in your direction.

“do you say that to every girl you meet, park jisung?” you manage to tease back, proud of yourself for recovering so quickly.

his smile morphs into a grin, his teeth peeking through his lips, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. “nope. just the really pretty ones.”

you tilt your chin into your shoulder as you feel heat spread across your cheeks. how was this guy so smooth? it’s like he knew exactly what you wanted/needed to hear and kept saying it.

when you compose yourself, you continue your conversation with jisung. it’s comfortable, even if you’d never met him before today, and it feels like you’ve known him for a while. you learn that he’s also on a trip with his friends, the six of them stationed just a few umbrellas over to your left. (he groans when you catch them spying on the two of you.) then he tells you that he noticed you earlier and his friends had finally convinced him to shoot his shot.

“you know, if you’d come up to me sooner, i would’ve been a lot less bored,” you sigh, scooting a little closer to him. “my friends have been ignoring me since we got here and i fucking hate the beach.”

he chuckles at that, subtly brushing his fingers against yours. “sorry about that. i guess you’re glad i saved the day, huh?”

“very,” you link your pinkie with his. “so, we’re going out later tonight to some club called allure? i think? it’d be really cool if you went, just saying. you can bring your friends.”

“that sounds like fun. maybe you’ll see us there,” he shrugs, nudging your foot with his. “depends on how bad you wanna see me.”

“nooo, don’t do me like that, jisung,” you whine halfheartedly, covering your face with your free hand. “i would like to see you there, but i don’t wanna beg.”

jisung laughs at how cute you are, poking your cheek with a nod. “okay okay, you convinced me. i’ll tell the guys.”

“okay, cool.” you breathe, tangling your fingers with his as you both stare at each other goofily. you almost lean in, the gap between you only disrupted by a centimeter, but then a throat clears itself and you jump apart.

it seemed that the guys all finally noticed you weren’t alone and decided to pay attention to you. you make eye contact with sunghoon and feel a shudder run down your spine, trying your hardest to conceal it.

“hey, y/n, who’s this?” he asks, albeit passively.

“oh, this is jisung. him and his friends are gonna meet us at the club tonight!” you give him a tight lipped smile, glancing over to gauge jisung’s reaction. he doesn’t look too fazed by their presence, instead standing up so he could introduce himself to each of them.

you sputter at the action, surprised that he was so willing to be buddy-buddy with the boys. you assume it’s because he isn’t too intimidated by them, considering they’d been ignorant toward your presence until now.

after he’s done, he turns to you and puffs his cheeks, blowing air between his lips. “i guess i better get going. i’ll see you later?”

“mhm,” you rub his arm. “see you tonight, ji.”

the nickname makes him grin and he ruffles your hair before bidding you all a goodbye. your eyes follow as he walks over to his friends, who are fist bumping in celebration of his success with you. your smile doesn’t go away as you look back at your own friends.

jake jumps up and down, shaking you aggressively by the shoulders. “y/n, holy shit! rizz master or what?”

beomgyu and jeongin burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, falling into each other as you roll your eyes. jake would be the one to use such a gen z term at his age. “please never call me that again.”

“well jakey, looks like she won’t need your shirt tonight after all. chances are she’ll use jisung’s instead.” heeseung jokes, smacking your arm playfully.

you cover your face with both hands to shelter how embarrassed they’re making you feel. rule number one for being best friends with a bunch of boys— don’t. they’re nothing but menaces. and if you happen to acquire a friend group of just males— don’t let them meet your significant other.

as you wrap up your day at the beach, so you could head back to the airbnb to get ready for your night out, you realize sunghoon is keeping to himself a lot. and you don’t know what to make of that.

you feel like a million bucks if you’re being completely honest with yourself. you packed one of the nicest dresses you owned in case you needed it and you were so glad you did. it would’ve been awkward rolling up to the club in shorts and a bikini top— though you’re sure management has probably seen that before.

it was gold and sparkly, with spaghetti straps and a lace-up back, low cut enough that it was cute rather than overly revealing. you styled your hair to preference and kept the makeup simple, soft glam that didn’t distract from the outfit. this was the prettiest you felt in weeks— months even— and it was a comforting change of pace.

when you step out of the bathroom, sunghoon is laying on his back on the bed, scrolling through his phone. the sound of your heels clacking on the wooden floor forces him to sit up. “how long does it take to—?”

his words die out once he sees you, his throat going dry and his stomach tightening with an incessant knot. you look so gorgeous, it almost makes him angry that it’s not for him. never in your seven years of friendship has he ever seen you put this much effort in your appearance. (he thinks that’s why he feels himself getting worked up.)

“woah, missy, you’re not leaving the house looking like that. where’s your coat?” he raises an eyebrow, masking the icky feeling brewing inside of him.

“hoon, it’s like a hundred degrees out. we’re in the middle of a heatwave at the peak of the summer, the fuck do i need a coat for?” you counter with a scoff, shoving your phone and some lip gloss along with your credit card and ID in the little clutch you were taking with you.

“i’m just saying,” he shrugs. “you’re practically wearing a piece of cloth, you might get cold.”

“shut up, i’ll be fine.” you snort, exiting the room and leaving him scrambling for control of himself.

the rest of the guys are already waiting downstairs, whistling and hollering once you reach the bottom of the steps. jake tells you to do a little twirl, cheering you on like he was best friends with bella hadid or something. (you won't admit that it fuels your ego.)

“where’s sunghoon?” jay asks crouching to see if he was visible from where he was standing.

“i don’t know, but he’s being weird. my vote is we leave without him.” taehyun holds up a finger, pursing his lips as if he was being totally serious about his suggestion. you laugh at his expression, flicking his forehead.

“don’t be mean, tyun.”

a couple minutes later, sunghoon finally makes his way downstairs, looking conflicted about something. as much as you wanna ask, you know you shouldn’t get into it right now, so you choose not to.

jisung and his group are already at the club when you arrive and he waves you over to the high tables they secured. he introduces you to his six friends; mark, renjun, jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, and chenle. once you’ve met them, the two of you introduce your own friends to each other. it makes you happy that they seem to hit it off, breaking off into smaller cliques.

you and jisung wander off to the bar, ordering some drinks for yourselves. he helps you sit at one of the stools, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. it doesn’t take long for the bartender to hand you your poison for the night and you take a gulp with a wince, letting the alcohol burn in its course down your throat.

“you look really good, by the way,” jisung compliments, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin that peeks through the straps in the back of your dress. “i didn’t get to tell you when you got here.”

his mouth brushes your ear as he speaks so you can hear him over the booming top forties music playing. there’s not nearly enough alcohol in your system to warrant the heat blooming under your skin so soon. you just giggle in response, spinning in your chair so you’re facing him. you hold your straw between two fingers as you sip at your beverage, looking up at him through thick lashes coated in mascara.

“you’re really something else, y/n,” he shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink before you return to your friends. “i’m gonna use the restroom, i’ll be right back.”

you nod with a smile when he pets your head, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. it catches you off guard, but you don’t mind it one bit. at least someone was interested in you for once.

heeseung squeezes his way through the crowd to you and narrows his eyes, taking a hold of either side of your head. your cheeks squish together and your lips form a pout, so no matter how annoyed you try to come across, you just look silly. your attempts to get him off of you are futile, making you raise a brow to find out why he was being so touchy-feely.

“i still cannot believe you managed to make moves while you were alone. i literally never saw this coming.”

god, lee heeseung was such a lightweight.

“can you stop being sentimental? it’s kinda gross.” you grimace, your words mushed together much like your cheeks. it’s at this point that jake decides to join in, throwing his arms around your shoulders.

(jake sim was also a lightweight.)

“i love you guys! i’m so glad we’re here together right now!”

you spot jisung coming back from the restroom, pleading for him to save you with your eyes. he laughs and inserts himself in the conversation. “i appreciate you guys watching over y/n for me while i was gone, but do you think i can steal her back?”

“i guess,” jake sighs dramatically, dragging out the s. “but you better bring her back in one piece, park.”

jisung salutes to the brunette, even if he wasn’t at all intimidated by his overprotective parent persona, and whisks you away to get more drinks and then to hit the dance floor. the moment your foot reaches the tiled ground, a summer walker song starts, and all coherent thoughts leave your mind.

you keep one arm wrapped around jisung’s neck as you begin to sway your hips with the music, taking swigs of your drink every now and then. his is long forgotten in favor of gripping your waist like you’d run away any second. you have him wrapped around your finger, the way he’s fixated on you and your movements has your head spinning. but when you glance towards the general direction all of your friends were in, you accidentally make eye contact with none other than park sunghoon.

he’s glaring right at you, making no attempt to hide the distaste on his features while he watches you dance. you keep the eye contact when jisung leans into your neck, his nose grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

usually you’d fold then and there, crumbling in his hands and letting him take you home for the night. but there’s something about the darkness in sunghoon’s gaze that sends a shiver down your spine, not the person you were currently grinding into on the dance floor. it sends your mind into a frenzy.

your blissful ignorance to the amount of attraction you truly felt for him was causing more problems than solving them. here you were, a nice guy treating you like an absolute princess, but still thirsting after one of your best friends with not a single ounce of fucking shame. years of pent up frustration and insufferable pining bubble over, and you don’t stop yourself from what you’re about to do next.

you pull back from jisung, finally breaking the staring contest between you and sunghoon, and smile at him, pushing some hair out of his eyes. he gives you a look of utter confusion and you huff. “i’m sorry, but i’m feeling a little tired. i think the drinks are getting to me.”

“do you want me to drop you off at your place?” he asks, so sweetly it actually makes you feel bad about your true intentions. you shake your head ‘no’.

“it’s okay, you can stay here with your friends. i’ll just ask one of the boys,” you respond, patting his cheek. “one of the sober ones.”

“alright, if you insist. just be careful and text me later, yeah?” he gives you that award winning grin that made you weak at the knees just moments ago. this time you don’t give him a verbal response, too afraid of your voice betraying you.

you still don’t say anything as you grab your clutch from the table where your group was at, flickering your vision to sunghoon once before you walk out of the club. the air is cooler than this afternoon, serving as a nice contrast to your warm, sticky skin. your ears are still ringing from the blaring music and you’re pleasantly buzzed, but you feel great.

the sound inside the club travels outside for a second when the door opens and closes, signaling that someone had just walked out. you don’t want to risk the backwards glance in case it’s not who you’re hoping it is and you feel dumb. you opt to stare at the cars passing on the street, hugging yourself.

there’s the ghost of a touch on the small of your back and a broad chest pressed to your shoulders, causing you to jump slightly. “ditched that dude finally?”

you swallow thickly, his deep voice reverberating in your bones. “and if i did?”

sunghoon chuckles, his fingers dancing around the knot of your dress. “then i won’t have to feel like an asshole for what i’m about to do to you.”

you squeak as he starts to push you in the direction of the airbnb, your feet carrying you as fast as you can with your heels. the walk is silent except for the clicking against the concrete sidewalk, but it’s heavy with tension. half of you wants to say something, to ask what’s even happening. you don’t even realize he’s punching the numbers into the keypad and pulling you into the house until you’re pinned to the shut door, nose skimming yours.

sunghoon has a desperate grip around your wrists, breathing like he’d just ran a marathon. you stare up at him with wide eyes. you’re not entirely sure what you were hoping for when you executed this plan, but this wasn’t anywhere near the list of outcomes. in fact, you were positive that park sunghoon didn’t feel any sort of attraction to you.

“hoon,” you gasp, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

he grins, his canines peeking through those lips of his that looked so soft. “you look so pretty tonight, n/n. can’t believe i get to have you all to myself.”

your head feels empty, like there’s nothing but cotton filling your skull where your brain should be. this was something out of a dream for you, something you’d only ever seen in your darkest fantasies. you wanted him to kiss you so badly it was beginning to ache. your head tilts to the side just a bit, your eyes alternating between his mouth and his own.

“need you,” you whisper, voice airy. “‘ve been waiting for this for so long.”

he connects your lips at that, a burning fever behind his actions as he does so. the dizziness doesn’t go away, instead amplifying. he releases your wrists in favor of grabbing at your thighs, his blunt nails digging into the plush skin. you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at the silky strands, forcing a groan out of him. kissing sunghoon is sickening. it’s exactly how they describe it in books, the stomach churning and the goosebumps and all. this morning, you never would’ve thought you’d be here, but you’re completely satisfied with this turn of events.

“bedroom,” he breathes. “don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

he doesn’t have to tell you twice, your heels discarded at the bottom of the stairs. the minute you’re in your shared room, his mouth is hot on yours again and you’re collapsing on to the bed. his hands are everywhere and there’s too many clothes between you. you slide your hands under his shirt, grazing your nails along his abdomen, smiling when it tenses under your touch. he gets the memo, removing his shirt and tossing it haphazardly behind him. you fumble with the button of his jeans and he laughs at how needy you are, solidifying just how real this moment actually is.

you notice that he’s already hard once his pants are gone and you palm his bulge as you lean back in for another kiss. he sighs into your mouth, reaching around your back to untie the knot on your dress. the straps fall instantaneously, the front of the fabric slipping down to reveal your bare chest. sunghoon’s lips move from yours to your jaw and along the column of your neck until he’s at your chest, looking up at you as he leaves open mouthed kisses all over your tits. you moan softly when the warmth of his mouth envelopes a sensitive nipple, slipping your dress off all the way so you’re left in nothing but your panties.

he steps back for a second to kick the article of clothing away, before caging your body with his. “i’ve been wanting to get you out of that dress all night. it pissed me off that you didn’t put it on for me, but he doesn’t get to see you all fucked out untouched, now does he?”

you shake your head, but that doesn’t satisfy him. his thumb finds your clit through the thin material of your underwear, rubbing tight circles into it to get a reaction from you. your lips part and your eyes squeeze shut, but it’s not enough for him. he grabs your chin a little forcefully, smushing your cheeks together like heeseung did earlier— however there was nothing wholesome about this moment.

“i asked you a fucking question.” sunghoon all but growls.

“n-no, hoon. only you,” you whimper, his mean demeanor turning you on even more. you’re embarrassed by the wet patch forming on the front of your panties and deep deep down you’re thanking lee heeseung for throwing the other pair out of your suitcase. (very very very deep down— you’d never give him the benefit of being right.)

“that’s my good girl,” he hooks his fingers into the waistband, glancing at you for confirmation. “are we really going through with this? you can back out now.”

your heart thumps disgustingly loud in your ears at how sincere he sounds and you pray to god that he can’t hear it. “sunghoon, i’m laying half naked in front of you right now— if you don’t fuck me—”

“alright alright… you got it,” he laughs that cute laugh of his, the one he reserves solely for you. the one that has crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. it drives you crazier than anything else he’s done the entire night.

sunghoon slides your underwear down your legs with one hand, the other propping himself up to hover over you. you kick them off, biting your lip and hissing when he decides to run a finger up your slit. he curses as he watches how your arousal coats the digit. all you’ve done is kiss and you’re dripping.

“you’re soaked, baby,” he practically groans, pecking your jaw. “gonna ruin your pussy so you know who you belong to.”

you whine when he thrusts a finger in without warning, quickly adding a second and massaging your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. your head rolls back as moans and expletives spill from your mouth. sunghoon takes the opportunity to mark you as his, sucking and biting your neck and chest like he was a leech, ensuring bruises formed in his wake. he finds the sweet spot at your pulse point, curling his fingers at the same time he nips at it.

“f-fuck, right th-there, hoonie,” you mewl, instinctively spreading your legs wider.

at this rate, you don’t think you’ll last much longer.

you know he can tell too with the way he speeds up the pace of his fingers. you clench around them and he connects your lips once again, his tongue tangling with yours messily. it’s so sloppy and so aggressive, but it’s perfect. it’s so sunghoon.

he keeps working at you, kissing everywhere he can until he pushes the right buttons to make you fall apart in his hands. when he finally finds it— a little nibble to your earlobe— your back arches further into him, your moans uncontrollable and incomprehensible as your orgasm washes over you. the skill of his mouth and hands has you reeling from the experience knowing no one else could ever make you feel like this ever again.

once you’ve come down, he slowly pulls his fingers out, sucking them so he can taste you and all that you are. he groans before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. you sigh in content.

“if you cum like that just from my fingers, i can’t wait to see how you look with my cock,” he mutters into your mouth, evoking a whine out of you. “so gorgeous.”

sunghoon steps away to remove his underwear, revealing himself to you. you have to stop yourself from drooling, reaching out to stroke his length languidly. he hisses as he goes back in for another kiss, biting on your lower lip when your thumb swipes over the slit on his sensitive tip.

he drags you to the edge of the bed, pushing away your hands so he can guide himself to your entrance. “are you ready for me, baby?”

“mhm,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to get him closer— if possible. “want you so bad, sunghoon.”

the sound of his name leaving your lips so filthily has the blood rushing from his brain to his dick even faster than before. he slips in easily, your arousal lubricating enough for him to bottom out almost completely. his balls slap against your ass when he does, his cock sheathed inside of you so far it’s like it’s poking your stomach.

his pace starts slow and consistent, his hips rocking into yours with timed thrusts that hit deep. your legs feel weak and your head is spinning, drunk off of his cock and how good it is. but it’s not satisfying you, you need more. you want more.

your heels dig into the dip of his lower back and you mewl, “faster, p-please.”

“anything for you, pretty girl.” he grunts, using one hand to grip your hip and the other to form a makeshift ponytail with your hair, tugging your head back so he can rest his forehead in the crook of your neck.

sunghoon angles his hips and pistons his cock into you quicker. each thrust is punctuated by his pelvis snapping into your own harshly and his fistful of your hair stinging your scalp. his hold on your waist is nearly bruising, but you don’t really care, too high from the pleasure he’s providing you. your moans raise in volume as you feel the band in your belly grow tighter.

your pussy clenches around him and he releases your hair in favor of rubbing tight circles into your clit. the stimulation of his cock driving in and out of you combined with his thumb on your most sensitive area has alarms blaring in your head as a warning for your second incoming orgasm. “i’m so so close, hoon, fuck— just like that,”

“c’mon baby, you can give it to me,” he coos, changing his angle again so he reaches that spongy spot in your cunt.

you swear you can see spots when it crashes onto you, your whole body spasming with the intensity of it. sunghoon prolongs your orgasm, still thrusting into you with a purpose. you know he’s closer to his edge too from how desperate he’s moving and the whines leaving his lips. you’re so sensitive it’s making you insane, but you allow him to keep abusing your pussy.

“where do you want me?” he asks breathily, his sweaty forehead sticking to your skin.

“inside,” you moan, your toes curling. “cum inside me, sunghoon,”

he just about loses it at that, fucking into you with everything he can manage and sinking his nails into the fat of your hips to hold you still. you’re overstimulated and your brain is foggy so you keep squirming around, involuntarily squeezing your walls around his length. it’s not too much later that he finally releases, painting your cunt with milky white ropes of cum.

he slumps forward once he’s given all he has to offer, his chest flat against yours while he attempts to regulate his breathing. the two of you lie there for a bit, recovering from what just happened. eventually he pulls out and disappears into the bathroom, only to return with a warm and damp washcloth seconds after. he hands it to you wordlessly and you awkwardly clean yourself up, wincing due to the acute sensitivity you were feeling. sunghoon sits beside you, naked and silent.

you think it’s funny how he was so confident not even ten minutes ago and now he’s acting like a shy teenager. you know you have to talk about the situation at hand and what it means for your relationship, but in this moment, the cloudiness of your head subsided, that fear of rejection has creeped back in. was it just a temporary lapse of judgment on his part? did he just feel attraction towards you because you dolled yourself up for once?

the insecurity rushes in like a tsunami wave and you want nothing more than to get out of here before you drown.

“i—”

“we—”

you both speak at the same time, cutting each other off before you can continue. he gestures for you to go first and you sigh, reaching for the t-shirt thrown over the bedpost from this morning. you slip it on, along with your discarded underwear, to hide your body, comparatively aware of how exposed you were. he follows suit, putting his underwear back on.

“i think i should sleep somewhere else tonight.” you say, your tone uneasy.

sunghoon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “w-what? why?”

“it’s already awkward enough,” you avoid his eyes. “i don’t think sleeping in the same bed is gonna help.”

“i was just trying to put together the right words,” he explains, brows still furrowed. “i don’t wanna give you a half assed confession after we just had sex, y’know? you deserve something more intimate than that.”

you blink, thrown for a loop by his admission. well now you felt like an idiot.

“c-confession?” you stutter, resembling a cartoon character with your jaw on the ground.

“did you— did you think i was gonna treat this as a random hookup?” his lips form a frown, like he was offended by your assumption.

“um, yeah? i mean, you never really expressed any interest in me before tonight, sunghoon. you’ve only ever talked about other girls you’ve fucked around with. you can’t really blame me.” you play with the hem of the (his) t-shirt.

his hand finds its way under your chin, lifting it so you have to look at him. the glint in his eyes is soft and you will away the tears threatening to appear. “you really have no idea huh?”

“what are you talking about?” you sniffle.

“y/n, i’ve been in love with you for like five years. any time i’ve talked about another girl, it was to see whether or not you seemed bothered by it. did you actually think i felt nothing for you?” sunghoon snorts, wiping away a stray tear that rolls down your cheek.

“yeah,” you laugh, feeling a little silly for not knowing he liked you this entire time. “i guess i was blinded by my own emotions.”

“that’s why it made me mad that you were hitting it off so well with that jisung guy,” he holds one of your hands in his lap, caressing your knuckles with his thumb. “i kinda figured you felt the same, but i was starting to doubt it after that.”

“hoon, i was only doing that ‘cause i thought i had no chance with you,” you shake your head. “if you had told me sooner, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

“or if you told me sooner.” he adds with a shrug.

you lightly poke his chest with a playful eye roll. he smiles at you fondly and you think this is perfect. you weren’t expecting the night to go in this direction, but you definitely aren’t complaining. somehow you feel like heeseung is to thank, in an odd way. (you’d never let him know that though.)

“can i kiss you again? for real this time?” sunghoon asks, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

you nod, leaning into him so you can connect your lips in a sweet kiss. it’s not full of hunger or desire, but it still has that same passion from earlier. it’s loving and it’s everything you’ve ever needed from a kiss with park sunghoon.

you don’t get to indulge in the moment any longer, though, a thud sounding outside your room and hushed voices filtering from under the door. you and sunghoon share a look.

“shut the fuck up, they’re gonna hear us!”

“you’re the one being loud, what are you saying?”

“jake shut your fucking mouth, don’t back talk me.”

“wait why are they quiet?”

“shhh!”

sunghoon scoffs before he opens the door, revealing your friends all gathered in front of it. jake and kai fall forward, ears first. they give you guilty smiles when they realize they’ve been caught, chuckling uncomfortably.

“beomgyu, you owe me five bucks.” heeseung says when he takes notice of the clothes strewn across the room.

nevermind. lee heeseung truly was the bane of your existence.

© yeonjunszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[domini-porter]

It's very hard not to ask twelve questions, but I'll restrain myself...

CMYK: What inspired you to write the fic this way? (You can take this to mean the ending, the character dynamics, whatever)

Diaphananthe hedoniana: What do you like best about this fic?

Hi hello thank youuuuu!

As for CMYK, that started as most things do (for me, at least) with a single image, which was Jane seeing Page 67 and having a super-awkward reflexive reaction in front of Maura, which I thought was both funny and mean, but if anyone needs someone to be mean back, it’s our Jane.

More broadly, the setting and plot emerged from that one image—that it would be some murdered artist (which makes Jane uncomfortable and defensive to begin with), who worked in erotic art (double discomfort/defensiveness, also I’m a fan of both high camp and highbrow erotic art, so, write what you know)(I painted a full-length Tom of Finland beefcake on a door in my apartment. one of the main ones). Also it let me bring in Constance, a classic example of a character that started out okay, got questionable, and then disappeared, with massive emotional consequences that were never addressed.

So. That’s the how! I’m adjacent to the art world (not in a Constance Isles way) and it’s such a wild assortment of people, so it was really entertaining for me, personally (I strongly believe you should entertain yourself first). The rest—plot, etc—evolved sort of organically, like it almost always does. Which brings me to the end, which people have been mixed on, for the most part.

The ambiguous/bummer/more realistic ending is sort of because I hadn’t actually determined the sequence of events for the murder, or exactly how all the players were involved (it’s a very high-wire sort of writing process, particularly when I haven’t written ahead before posting a chapter). And at first I worried what I ended up going with would feel like a cop-out, or cheap storytelling, or ruining the whole thing—which are ways people have described it—but I realized that either of the possible Shiny Bow endings I’d been tossing around felt even cheaper, like, I’d just done 80k words in a very grounded, consequence-rich universe, and the natural conclusion is that (LIGHT SPOILER) you don’t always get what you want just because you’re right. To have them march in and smugly call out the Big Bad would have been the cop-out, for me (so to speak).

Once I decided how it would all shake out, it was super-important to work with the tone, and the placement of narrative clues, so that it didn’t come out of nowhere, but did happen unexpectedly for the characters and the reader. Because it do be like that sometimes. And I get why people find it unsatisfying or disappointing, and honestly, I kinda hope they do. Because it is unsatisfying, and it is disappointing, but it’s not unearned. (I still obsess over those comments, tho, don’t worry)

I dunno if this is what you meant at all. I hope it is! A few other bits of minutiae, just in case: I hadn’t done any big writing (of anything) for years and years prior to CMYK, and a lot of what I’d done before was some flavor of AU, so the contemporary setting felt novel to me, just like the post-apocalypse or the Gilded Age. I started from Jane’s perspective because it was more easily accessible after such a long disconnect from the material (whole other topic), and stayed with it instead of alternating both as a way to not have to get inside Maura’s head, and to set myself a challenge to write from a single perspective, which is way less convenient than just following other characters for a while. Constance Isles is possibly my favorite minor character (sorry Giovanni), mostly because of her potential, and because of Jacqueline Bisset (watch La Cérémonie as soon as you possibly can). I started a sequel and then I got stuck on it (turns out I’m not nearly as interested in biotech as I am the art world); I will force myself to finish it someday, this I pledge to you all.

As for Diaphananthe hedoniana: the thing I personally like best, that is truly just for me, is the writing, as unhelpful as that sounds. I really set out to do elevated crack (psychoactive sex pollen) as sincerely and with as much craft as possible; it was mostly meant as an exercise in literary smut (not erotica. smut.) but the longer I sat with it the more uncomfortable I got with the basic concept, and since I’d once again tried to ground the fantastical in reality, my trusty ol’ ethical buzzkill started going on and on about trauma and consent. And since I’d gone into it attempting to personal best my prose, I had to keep doing that even though it took a hard turn.

All this is to say: I’m pretty proud of it, just from a craft standpoint; I really leaned into my tendency toward lyrical maximalism, which I usually don’t let myself do. I’m also p proud of the dialogue, particularly the scene with both Angela and Frankie; not just the way it hits the ear or the family dynamics, but the pacing of the scenes, especially being able to write (a tiny bit of) slapstick, which is both hard and exhilarating, particularly in a story as emotionally extreme as that one.

And I did PB my prose, I think. Def PB’d the smut, which I’m also not unhappy about. 

Thank you again for enquiring! And, even more, for kicking off this round of Everybody Loves Us Tonite, one of my favorite parts of this hell site; I'm so proud of this tiny little fandom and all of its flame-carriers <3

[staticl0ve]

Forget Me Not (Connor x Fem!Reader)

Pairings: Connor/Female Reader Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Forget Me Not (oneshot) Words: 3.5k Warnings: Established relationships, angst, death, smut, PnV sex Summary: Post revolution, Connor settles into a new life where he’s chosen a path of marching in protests and writing speeches. He’s met the one and has never been happier. How would he manage if it were to all vanish in the blink of an eye? Notes: Third person POV for a bit, nondescript afab reader/female pronouns. Really wanted to explore some darker, sadder topics involving our favorite android. I promise I’m still the queen of happy endings!

-

Do not stand By my grave, and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep— I am the thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glints in snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning’s hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight, I am the day transcending night. Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die. Immortality (Clare Harner)

A ghost haunted Connor.

She did not moan nor groan. Nor did she travel underneath a sheet. She was the crease on an untouched pillow. She was the gap in their bed—not that he bothered pretending to sleep anymore.

S-She was…everything.

How could a machine measure half a century? In daylights? In sunsets? In laughter?

How about regret?

During the revolution, many androids were victims to a massive, countrywide recall. Not all hope was lost, the data in their hardware was still intact and transferred to New Jericho for storage. As androids began to enjoy their new freedoms, hair thin fractures settled between the peace like glass waiting to shatter. Nothing could stop the honeymoon period. Civil rights, land, and bodily autonomy.

The first public union between man and machine caused the last crack in the glass. 

There was outrage.

A minority voice bared their teeth, spurred their followers to act…inhumane. Coalitions formed, going by the nickname Meat Boys, proud men of flesh and bone. They brought guns to protests for ‘keeping’ the peace. Then came written threats and mild property damage, escalating to a massive fire at an android housing block—allegedly.

And then one day, a bomb.

The weapon’s location was clever, placed dead center in a building containing the decommissioned hardware. It was the hope of Connor’s kind to one day resurrect the data. But those lives were technically already gone, stuck in stasis.

So where was our beloved RK800, the brave deviant hunter, in all of this? He left his old detective job to pursue a life filled with speeches and political movements. He thought it was the safer route, talking and marching.

So much for that.

Of all the days his lover decided to grab something from work, she chose today. Something was beeping in the background of their call and Connor had the misfortune of being able to hone in on the exact make and model of the explosive. This was serious, not meant to be left in the hands of an amateur.

“It’s okay. If you think about it this way, humans don’t live nearly as long as androids,” she pondered. “Think of all the lives we’re saving.”

He heard her hiss in pain as her voice crackled over his comms. Their distance only made him feel more helpless.

 “You should be proud of me! All of your self defense lessons paid off. I got to punch out the guy who set this up,” she exclaimed. She never quite mastered punching without bruising herself. Metal clinked and a lid unclasped. “Oh shit, four minutes?”

His knuckles clenched tighter around a steering wheel. The car’s navigation indicated he had only a few miles before the next exit. Two time estimates blinked side by side, one far smaller than the other. Despite the odds being against him, he pushed on.

“Sweetheart. I need you to listen to me—”

“Connor,” she replied sternly, with a defeated sigh. This was an echo of conversations they’ve had before. Arguments on nights where he retreated to the solitude of a cold, dark living room couch. At the last protest, she faced the barrel of a gun and spat back at the opposition, ignoring his advice.

Don’t be a hero. Stay safe.

He was often the first to cave, his shadow darkening their moonlit room.

I am sorry.

No, I’m sorry. Connor, you’re right to worry. It’s only human.

That was the problem wasn’t it?

“Please. You must go,” he begged.

The headlights of his car frantically swayed from one lane to the next as he weaved around late night commuters. Rubber squealed, leaving a trail of black as he raced against the clock. Fire plagued his circuits. Static clogged his head until he felt it may pop off from the pressure alone.

Connor was fine. In fact, he was in the best shape of his life with newly installed upgrades and a more optimal power supply. It was the worst case scenario, him, safe and sound while a timer blipped away the seconds left of their time together.

“There’s got to be scissors around here somewhere. I think…” she paused and he heard a heavy clatter of an object being placed on a wooden surface. “I think this is the only bomb in the building. If I just clip—wait—was it the red wire or not the red wire?”

She chuckled and he barely heard her say “just kidding.” Given the circumstances, it was so like her to try and ease his nerves. It worked and it didn’t, a bittersweet smile rose and fell on his face. A car honked as he swerved.

“You don’t have to do this yourself. Help is on the way,” Connor insisted.

He didn’t know she volunteered to stay behind.

“I can’t just leave. This is gonna take out a major chunk of New Jericho. What if—”

“The others have evacuated. Please, you’re only saving buildings.”

“It’s more than just cement and glass and you know it,” she snapped back.

She owed the androids. One saved her life on a rainy evening, when it was too dark and stormy for anyone to see her strolling into traffic. Connor hadn’t changed out of his old android blazer then, his model number branded into her mind.

They got coffee.

Then dinner. And later, a movie. When he officially asked her to be his, he bought flowers and she bought him a new jacket.

Their union was not an easy one. It took time for loved ones to come around to it. When they did, all was well in their happy bubble. The famous deviant hunter turned lecturer, traveled and talked. He never stopped counting his lucky stars, grateful that he could take her along on his journey.

Silence followed and a mess of blocked up traffic slowed Connor’s car to a halt. Familiar vehicles with flashing red, white, and blue lights whizzed by. It brought him some relief.

“I got it!” she shouted and the beeping faded from the call. She huffed and laughed. “See, I told you it wasn’t going to be so bad.”

A few rooms away, hidden in the basin of a planter, a timer once ticking stopped.

He saw the flash of white long after his processors could accept the sound of the blast. His world came to a halt, his mind tearing seams into reality until he was but a mere observer—a heap of plastic, frozen stiff and utterly useless. Crimson light from his LED bled over his face, spilling into the darkness of his car.

He imagined the worst: her face, dipped in red. Blood, soaking into carpet like spilled wine. Hollow eyes latched onto the ceiling, never to see again.

Streets away, black plume drifted up into the star dusted skies. Sirens blared, trucks in red sped past the intersection. His mouth opened, emptying his lungs in an anguished scream. The call ended only moments ago and still he shouted for her. His grief bounced around the metal shell of his car as if volume alone would summon a response from the other side.

Forgotten in the passenger seat, was her coat, a remnant from their morning stroll.

-

Later investigations would reveal that the blast was small and localized to just her floor. It was likely setup as a cruel contingency plan to ensure collateral damage should the larger bomb fail. She succeeded in saving the data, every byte of it.

There was nothing left of her, no bones to burn for ashes.

Only memories and sorrowful glances from their friends and family.

In place of her body, they planted flowers at her gravesite. An assortment of colorful petals framed her gray headstone. Some were small and blue. In time, the flowers would wilt. Only then would a stray passerby see it; an engraved box, the perfect size for a ring.

In so many ways, she was right. Humans operated on a much shorter timeline than their machine counterparts and yet Connor had hoped—had wanted to know what it may have been like to gaze upon her over the years, to have had her company. Knowing her, she would have laughed while poking and prodding at her face.

“Is this a new wrinkle or did I sleep on my pillow funny?”

“I see nothing that isn’t already the most beautiful thing on Earth,” he would answer, knowing she’d grin at his reply.

“How do you manage to sound charming while saying the lamest things?”

He wished he could hold her now, plant a kiss so deep she’d know that there could be nothing more splendid than a reminder of their years spent together. To have that time…well, it was only a distant fantasy now.

That was all it was, fantasies and virtual constructions. He over indulged with what was and what could have been until her face and voice began to distort. Like old tape recordings or a hard drive in need of defragmentation, what little remained of her became streaks of static, covered in distortions and broken shards of color.

Some nights he was lucky. Intact memories played out like not a day had passed. He could feel her: her throat vibrating with a laugh as he nipped gently on her skin. The light pressure of a hand pushing at his chest.

“Is something wrong?” Connor asked without a hint of genuine concern.

She noticed, palm pressing more firmly against him.

“No marks!” she laughed. “I have a presentation tomorrow.”

He made a noise that sounded like he agreed but his eyes sparkled with devilish intent. Trailing down her chest, he pressed his cheek where her heart hammered between ribs. Steady thumps quickened when his hand slid up her thighs. He could listen to this all night, lie with his head on her chest, wanting to believe it’d beat forever.

“Magic word?” he slurred with his tongue lapping her breast.

“No marks!” she said between bubbling laughter.

Admittedly, this machine took advantage of all his freedoms, namely the one that allowed him to disobey. They’d explored it before in the bedroom, with her eager consent. He had her teetering at the edge for the millionth time when she stopped begging and yanked his hair to insist.

“No,” he smugly replied. “Not yet, love. Color?”

She couldn’t contain her annoyed sigh, nodding and going limp in the bed.

“Green.”

Sometimes, they switched and he role-played as the obedient RK800 he once was. Tonight was one of those nights where he was in that mood. His canines grazed over her sensitive nipples, and he smirked.

“Order me.”

Her eyebrow rose curiously, the corner of her lip mirroring its movement.

“R-RK800,” she began, her voice a low whisper in the quiet of their bedroom.

His frame shivered over her. There was a quality to her voice that always got to him, etched itself between his panels. When he first heard it that one rainy night, he uncharacteristically lingered by her side.

City traffic had resumed, autonomous cars unaware of the accident that nearly occurred. She thanked him through clattering teeth, her clothes drenched from the rain. His arms wrapped securely around her shoulders and waist. The frantic pattern of her breath fogged the cool air. They must have looked strange, standing frozen beneath a streetlight with rain spilling down their necks like two lovers caught in a heartfelt embrace. But even an android new to deviancy could recognize it would be inappropriate to overstay a hero’s welcome. Shortly after, they parted ways. Through luck, she managed to find him before he quit the DPD. Connor couldn’t drink coffee, but he graciously accepted her invitation to talk.

It was the least romantic of settings, a busy cafe at noon with customers accidentally bumping their chairs. She could barely hear him over the clamoring of drink preferences and order numbers. He watched her nervously stir her drink, shrinking shyly whenever they met eyes. She’d never admit it was her doing, but it was her lighthearted and casual suggestion that changed his life.

He wasn’t sure what was next. Becoming a dog walker for Sumo? Pestering Hank about his lunch choices as a health adviser? He was pretty sure the Lieutenant was going to hate that. 

“I dunno much about detective work, but I’ve heard how people talk about you. You’re a hero! You could inspire others just by reaching out.”

She knew a thing or two about public outreach and he had selfishly sought her help with speeches as an excuse to work his way to a date. Connor didn’t expect to love giving lectures and debates. He thought it was more of Markus’ wheelhouse but humans found his awkward charm endearing, reminding them he wasn’t machine perfect.

Their first time was in a hotel, the both of them travel weary and worn from a day at a convention. Her skin was wet, wrapped in a plush bathrobe and his processors were working their hardest to keep him modest. He was going to attempt stasis on the communal couch when she suggested he try the bed.

Connor wasn’t the same man since.

As his model number left her lips, his hand retracted to its android shell, shifting to white and gray as his plastic fingers prodded her wet folds. The data he gleaned never failed to pull a groan from his lips. This was for him: her trust, her love, her lust. Brown eyes bore into hers, coaxing her to say the words he needed to hear.

“What are my orders?”

“Fuck!” she moaned as one finger glided into her. Who was calling the shots? “Connor…”

He blinked slowly, pumping his finger into her. Not a single synthetic muscle betrayed his amusement, his face neutral and blank. She corrected herself, struggling to maintain the level of cool he was presenting.

“RK800, if you do not fuck me tonight, I swear you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“I’m afraid I require more specific directions,” he explained. A second finger joined the first, curling over tender nerves. His cheek twitched as she gasped and squirmed. He was incredibly hard, cock buried between tangled sheets and he was tempted to grind against them to relieve some of the tension.

Not yet, he had to remind himself.

“Is this…” His thumb found her clit, rolling the nub in tandem with his thrusting fingers. “…Not what you asked for?”

Incoherent words muffled behind her palm as she tried to ground herself.

“P-please. I need…”

His chin rested on her abdomen, nose blowing hot exhaust on her twisting muscles. He loved how her back arched as he twisted his fingers.

“Is this not satisfactory?”

A warm, wet tongue flattened over her clit, rolling back and forth as she twitched. Her nails gripped the sheets and she glared at him.

“RK800, I demand you fuck me with your cock,” she finally ordered.

“Your request,” he added a sharp ‘tst’ at the end of the word, “Has been accepted.”

Rising upwards, he hovered over her, his thighs spreading her legs apart. Her calves wrapped around his ribs. Eager to reward her patience, he didn’t hesitate, pushing the head of his cock into her. Nothing could compare to the feeling of the initial stretch, her pillowy walls welcoming his intrusion. It took a few gentle rocks of his hips before he could slide home, her gasps sharp in his ear.

“My stamina is endless,” he muttered into her ear. She already knew this about him, but wanting to be as immersed in the fantasy as he was, she played ignorant. Connor was meticulous, shifting his weight and reliably making her spasm around him. He was coated with her, his cock shiny as it slid halfway out. “Unlike an organic partner, I am capable of maintaining the same rhythm…as long as you’d like.”

He licked a stripe up her neck and towards her slack jaw. She replied with little moans, small eyelash flutters, her nails scraping down the muscles of his back. His sensors warned him of temporary damage should she persist. It only made him thrust harder.

“…If you ask, I could keep you suspended in bliss.”

He studied her carefully, enjoying the beads of sweat that dripped down her brows. His plastic hand lingered between their pelvises, glowing blue with a buzz. Her hips jolted at the contact, first away and then greedily grinding into his fingers. Lines of statistics flickered in his HUD of her arousal state, heart rate, combining with what he could feel of her: pulsing, hot, and alive. He leaned onto an elbow to stroke her cheek.

“Would you want that?” he asked, voice low and husky.

“Yes!”

His hips left a bruising pace and she ached for more, her ankles digging into his back. Parts of his chassis became exposed, patches of shiny plastic spreading across his torso and arms. A vibrating thumb stroked circles around her clit. Her eyes rolled, clamping shut as her breaths quickened.

She did love a machine.

“Connor, I…”

His forehead met hers. Breaking character, he muttered words of devotion, and kissed away tears that clung to her lashes. Small hands held his face in place, her eyes snapping open briefly.

“I…” she tried again.

She mouthed the beginnings of an L-shaped letter before she succumbed to the pressure that finally scorched her nerves. Their lips met as he swallowed her words of affection, his hips trying their hardest to fuse with hers. Her hands threaded through his soft locks as he moaned, spilling as deeply as he could.

He didn’t realize how soon he’d no longer see her teeth sparkling in a sweet smile.

“I love you, Connor.”

After the funeral, Jericho offered their support. A monument was erected in front of the repaired building, a permanent reminder of his loss. It was more than his machine heart could bare. Once Connor suffered the loss of another human companion, he left Detroit in search of distractions, either in the form of work or a pretty face that looked vaguely like hers.

Nothing ever came close.

It was the 50th anniversary of her death and Connor received a message from the one and only deviant leader, Markus.

“It’s been too long old friend. Come back to New Jericho. I promise it’ll be worth the visit.”

And return he did, driven by a hopeful promise.

Once androids became active participants in society, technology advanced faster than ever before and well, the sky was the limit. The impossible became possible. Organic could become synthetic.

Deep in the vaults of New Jericho was something too good to be true. A gift of extraordinary circumstance.

Stainless steel doors, thick with a dull sheen held a blurry reflection of the RK800’s silhouette. He dressed in the hopes of appearing familiar, in a style that matched his old gray suit. In one hand was a bouquet of roses with small blue flowers intermingled in the red petals.

Forget me not.

One by one, three bulbs beside the door lit up: red then yellow. A screen produced wall after wall of status checks, all passing with flying colors. Idle fingers began tapping anxiously on his slacks.

rA9. Please. Please.

With a ding, everything flashed green. Air hissed and popped, the doors sliding open as light flooded the room. His tense expression broke, his face lifting in relief.

“Connor?”

You blinked, uncertain. A ring of light cycled on the temple of your head, flickering red then gold. Everything was new and old, byte after byte of sensory overload. Your eyes landed on his face and used it as a familiar anchor. You were a ship lost at sea, finally finding safe harbor. Connor was exactly as you remembered him: a little awkward and perfectly handsome.

“Connor!”

He collapsed to his knees as you moved forward for an embrace. The flowers fell, rolling between your feet. Nothing else mattered.

Only you.

His hands were everywhere, on your face, patting down your back, gripping your arms and back up to your face where he held you at eye level.

“You’re here,” he whispered. “Y-you’re really…here.”

Your eyes crinkled with a soft laugh. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

No longer was the voice in his head a worn and faded memory. It was right beside him with a breath that warmed his cheeks. Perhaps now, he could resuming measuring time in daylights, in sunsets, and in laughter.

Or…

How about love?

[pearlsephoni]

Shinkane Week 2022, Day 5: Wrath

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Psycho-Pass

Pairing: Shinkane (Kogami/Akane)

Characters: Akane Tsunemori, Shinya Kogami, cameos from Hanashiro, Ginoza, and Sugo

Word Count: 967

Summary: When Kogami ends up on the wrong end of a revenge mission, Akane ends up dealing some revenge of her own.

A/N: Written for @shinkaneweek! cw for mild descriptions of injuries/blood. Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

The scene was chaos: the sirens of both the SAD and PSB blared, there was a crowd gathering outside of the holo-barriers, and splatters of blood were trailing out of the building.

And there, next to the ambulance, laid out in a stretcher, was Kogami. As soon as Akane’s eyes landed on his shirtless, heavily bandaged form, she ran over, not bothering to keep up a facade of professionalism when she reached Kogami and stood next to Hanashiro. “Oh…welcome, Tsunemori,” Hanashiro greeted her. Her cool eyes and pretty features managed to stay blank, but Akane still caught a flicker of surprise. “You got here quickly.”

“The situation was urgent,” Akane explained distractedly, attention fixed on Kogami as he winced and began opening his eyes, “so I got here urgently.”

“...I see.”

Before Hanashiro could continue, Kogami’s eyes found Akane’s, and a small smile warmed the pain out of his face. Still, when he spoke, Akane couldn’t ignore the low, pained tremor of his voice. “Ah, Inspector. We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Don’t joke, Kogami-san,” Akane ordered, her quiet voice sobering Kogami instantly. She was distantly aware of Hanashiro giving them some privacy, too focused on taking in his injuries. The edges of wounds and dark bruises were visible from behind the bloody patches. He was lucky, in a twisted way: he’d only been shot once. The rest of the injuries were stab wounds. Deep, but clean, easy to sew shut once he was taken back to the infirmary.

“Hey.” She looked up at his soft voice, brows furrowing when he looked blurry. “Hey,” he repeated, cupping her cheek and brushing a thumb along her damp lashes. “I’m okay. The others got me to the medics in time.”

“You almost died.”

“Almost. Nothing I haven’t been through before.”

“Don’t, Shinya.” Despite her stern voice, she couldn’t resist leaning into his touch. “How…how did this happen?”

“Guns are becoming easier to access, and especially in the parts of the city where Sibyl’s dropped surveillance. One of the terrorists got their hands on a sniper rifle, and…well.”

“And the stabs?”

“He wanted to get a…bit more personal.” He shifted and winced, hovering a hand over a bandage on his ribs. “He managed to knock me down when I got shot and dropped my defense. His little sister’s coefficient got flagged and she got moved into a hospice. I guess he thought the SAD played a role in that.”

“Is he still in there?”

Kogami blinked, brows furrowing as he watched Akane. “Yes…Hanashiro stayed with me, and Sugo and Gino are still apprehending them. Why?”

Akane didn’t say anything, just covered his hand on her cheek with her own and turned to brush a kiss to his wrist. “Inspector…Akane, why?”

She didn’t know how to reassure him with a lie, and she didn’t need to. A racket arose from the building, pulling her attention to the forms appearing through the doorway. There, emerging from a plume of dust and smoke, came Ginoza and Sugo. Sugo was leading two handcuffed men with firm grips on their arms, while Ginoza was focused on a third, also in handcuffs. In Gino’s other hand was an evidence bag containing a bloodied knife. As they came closer, Akane’s sharp eyes noticed the blood dotting the hands of the man Gino led. Cold certainty washed through her: this was Kogami’s attacker.

“Get some rest,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to his clammy forehead. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Akane…hey, Akane!”

Without another word, she marched towards Ginoza, whose face split between eyes glimmering with happy surprise and a concerned frown. “Tsunemori? What are you doing here?”

“Hanashiro called me.” She kept her eyes on the attacker. “Is this him?”

Ginoza’s face abruptly became stony, shuttering off any emotions her question inspired. Unfortunately for him, she knew him well enough for that to wipe away any remaining doubts she had.

It happened suddenly, before she was even aware of coming to the decision. One moment, she was watching the attacker with an icy, calculating gaze, and the next, her fist was flying at his cheek. By the time the pain at her knuckles finally registered to her, he was reeling back, nearly falling to the ground if it hadn’t been for Ginoza’s grip on him. He couldn’t shout or swear or even gasp—the shock of the punch left him gaping at the ground, slowly blinking and letting blood drip from his mouth.

“Fuck, Tsunemori, what—?”

Akane blinked and looked at Ginoza. Even pinned under his furious surprise, she couldn’t feel any regret, just a duller edge to her anger. “I would apologize,” she murmured, clenching and flexing her aching hand, “but I’m not sorry.”

“No…you wouldn’t be, would you?” He frowned at the attacker as the man finally came back to himself and straightened with a furious glare at Akane. “Well…it’s nothing worse than what he got in the fight. That would have been a hell of a report to file.”

“If any problems do arise from this, let me know. Good luck with the case, Ginoza-san, Sugo-san.” With a respectful nod to the SAD officers, she turned on her heel and left the scene, ignoring the hole Kogami’s eyes were burning into her back.

❈❈❈~❈❈❈~❈❈❈

(She didn’t see him again until the following night. She was at the door before the doorbell stopped ringing, and the moment she flung it open, she was being hustled back into her apartment by calloused hands on her cheeks and a deep kiss on her lips.

“All better, then?” she asked breathlessly when Kogami finally pulled away.

“Mm…Hanashiro’s furious with you,” he chuckled, sneaking kisses between words.

“Yeah…I would be, too.”

“And I love you so damn much.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, draping her arms over his shoulders, “I love you, too.”)

[xavantina]

I posted 2,645 times in 2022

9 posts created (0%)

2,636 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-see-you-jon

@sjweminem

@vildmus

@strideerandflashlightgirl

@powerbottombrucespringsteen

I tagged 1,483 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#our flag means death - 145 posts

#stranger things - 90 posts

#hannibal - 81 posts

#loki - 73 posts

#succession - 69 posts

#loki series - 68 posts

#mobius m. mobius - 52 posts

#eddie munson - 50 posts

#ugly laughter - 46 posts

#the sandman - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#five minutes of awkward silence eventually replaced by him starting to tell me in detail the workings of elevators and the odds of us dying

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

cries i love your loki memes

Thank you 😊 I appreciate the support of my meme follies.

1 note - Posted October 24, 2022

#4

Spotify being down causing such a level of distress worldwide really says a lot about our lives…

1 note - Posted March 8, 2022

#3

This is my cat. Her everyday name is Good Girl, but her full name (as written on her pedigree) is Good Girls Go to Heaven.

So you can imagine, based on that, how much Meat Loaf’s music means to me. I’m genuinely upset by this loss. I mean yeah, he had deeply problematic political opinions, but in this case I’m happy to separate art from the artist. Bat Out of Hell is one of my favourite albums of all time, ever since I was a child. It’s one of those cases of “your dad played it a lot and you automatically imprinted on it”. I think we owned it on fucking cassette tape? So yeah, his music is intrinsically tied to my childhood.

Rest in peace, Mr. Loaf.

2 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

#2

I am so very bad at actually doing these things, but I was tagged by the lovely and talented @gavotteangel, so I finally got off my butt and went to town.

Fanfic Writer 20 Questions!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? A measly 31. But in my defense, I’m ancient, so I have posted at least twice as many on LiveJournal back in the day.

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 162,236  

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Six are represented on AO3, including a mix of various RPF fandoms, Hannibal, Law and Order: SVU, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and recently Loki. But back in my teenage years I wrote fic in the Lord of the Rings fandom, Harry Potter, and as I got older even more diverse RPF, mostly centered around US political media and, uh... Top Gear. Look, I have a past, okay, leave me alone.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Assemble, a lighthearted, non-graphic-but-still-very-shippy Marvel RPF

As Loud as the Hell You Want, smutty Will Graham/Frederick Chilton

The Ties That Bind, a Barisi soulmate AU

Arrest Me - another Barisi fic, this one smutty

Young Police Cadet Bottoms for Busty Blonde - a Carisi/Amaro (and Carisi/OFC) porn fic where I’m actually super proud of the title. it really sets the tone 😂

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not? Almost always. If you took the time to comment, I will take the time to say thank you. Especially when I get the really juicy comments, like those that quote favourite lines and stuff. I love those comments, they’re so helpful!

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I’m really bad at following through on angst, I wrap that shit up with a vaguely happy ending. That said, Control You is pretty bad. It’s also locked, because I lock RPF religiously. kill them; kill them with fire is technically still a WIP, so it doesn’t count, although it’s some of the angstiest fic I’ve written.

7. do you write crossovers? Not so much these days, but I used to

8. have you ever received hate on a fic? Oh yes, before the US Pundit fandom hid all the RPF away in secret, thoroughly locked LJ communities, there were some pretty ugly instances of hate going around.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? Ahahaha, yes, I do. 23 of those 31 fics are rated E. And it was the same back on LJ.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know.

11. have you ever had a fic translated? I’ve received requests for a couple of fics to be translated into Russian. I gave my permission, but I have no idea if they followed through with it.

12. have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes. Way back when I was 18 I had a 42 year old BFF from California who shared my brand of absurd humour and we co-wrote a sprawling 20K+ Pundit RPF comedy zombie AU, where we took turns writing the chapters as we went along, playing off what the other person had written in the previous chapter. I was a great experience, like the fic equivalent of improv comedy groups. An entire story based on ‘yes, and...’ as a concept.

13. what’s your all-time favorite ship? I can’t possibly answer that question, I’m a bit of a whore in this respect. I mix and match. Although judging from my AO3 account it’s Chilly/Willy and Barisi, and it’s true that I love those ships.

14. what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? kill them; kill them with fire probably. It’s a ASOUE Zombie AU with stand-alone chapters focusing on different characters in different locations, but in a vaguely chronological order. Can you tell that I adore zombie AUs? Anyway, I was very proud of this one, because this particular zombie apocalypse is totally “realistic” in-universe. It takes an existing killer-fungus danger and replaces ‘certain death’ being the result of infection with ‘zombies’ being the result. So yes, it’s The Last of Us-style “zombies”. I actually stole the terminology from there as well, because I couldn’t be bothered with creating too much lore. I never care about the actual zombie horror anyway, I care about the human reaction to a deadly crisis. 

15. what are your writing strengths? A writer I admired very much in ye olden days once told me that I was good at blending genres and moods organically, in those day it was combinations of action, humour, and smut. She then asked me, me, for advice on a fic. I still think about that every single time I feel down.

16. what are your writing weaknesses? Definitely a tendency for overly detailed, flowery, self-indulgently elaborate prose. I spent years forcing myself to use a plain ‘said’ more often, because God knows I struggled with the concept from the beginning. And commas. So many commas. I often joke that Ernest Hemingway would fucking deck me if he was alive and reading my stuff. Oscar Wilde would you rather discuss writing with? Case closed.

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? I think it’s fine in controlled doses, especially if you consult native speakers to confirm that google translate isn’t about to make you look really silly to native speakers of the language in question.

18. what was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Lord of the Rings, I think? At least in English. I was 14 when the first film came out, so it was around then. It was really bad. English is my second language, and my grammar... left something to be desired. Okay, technically I wrote fic for The Hobbit first, because our teacher was pretty cool when it came to assigning various writing challenges, and in this case he made us all write fanfic that should be a twist on the pretty anticlimactic (according to him) ending of the book. I proceeded to literally kill off half the dwarves in a gruesome Smaug-fight. Very indiscriminately, I might add. Completely random. Just piling up dead, scorched dwarves for shits and giggles.

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written? Okay, bear with me here, but I’m just really proud of Young Police Cadet Bottoms for Busty Blonde. Probably the smuttiest smut I’ve ever written. I enjoyed every second of the writing process, I had a wonderful time, and it lives up to its title in terms of balls to the wall PWP insanity.  A Guide to Recognizing Your Ghosts and Unfortunate Living Arrangements are also up there, because I’m still a Chilton fangirl at heart.

20. who do you tag? all of my old ASOUE peeps! @beatricebidelaire, @virginian-wolfsnake, @kitsnicket etc. etc. You know who you are.

6 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Nine months clean and sober. The party I’m dolled up for is for my dad’s though, he turns 60 today.

48 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[surreptitious-elixir]

(via BDSM Rituals and Routines - Jolynn Raymond's Dark Obsessions)

BDSM Rituals and Routines

7 comments

This entry was posted in

BDSM

BDSM and Domestic Discipline Archives

Jolynn Raymond

on

April 19, 2014

by

JolynnRaymond

(updated on

March 23, 2015

)

If you’ve been here before or read any of my posts in the BDSM archive, then you know I’m big on writing about the responsibility of the dominant’s role in any BDSM relationship be it domestic discipline, Master and slave, babygirl/Daddy, or whatever your dynamic. Dominant doesn’t mean you sit back and your slave or submissive does everything and you do nothing. It means you are taking on the responsibility for the life of another human being so you’d better be ready to work hard. If they are yours, you must care for them as they serve you.

I’m also one who tells people if things aren’t going well, if your submissive is not obeying you, if your slave is acting out or your babygirl is having tantrums, then take a long look at yourself and the world or relationship you have established for the both of you. One of the things that must be examined and carefully tended in order for any power exchange relationship to run smoothly is rituals and routines. You can have all the rules in the world, you can punish your s types every day (not recommended), you can tell them they are not doing as the both of you agreed upon all you want, but before you give up, explode, or decide the relationship just isn’t working or that they are a bad slave, go back to the beginning and look at your rituals and routines. If they have slipped, there is a good chance your relationship is going to have problems.

I am not perfect. I have a medical condition and a job which make me highly stressed and leave me exhausted. I’ll point the finger at myself and say that sometimes I fuss, get angry, or feel that my D/s relationship with Beauty is out of whack and that she isn’t doing what she is supposed to as far as household chores. This is really our biggest bone of contention. She procrastinates and I have tried every damn homemaker’s helper guide and website that makes schedules and written out chores, put up hour by hour details all to no avail, she simply has time management issues. The thing is, it doesn’t matter what schedule I have her trying to keep, she doesn’t succeed when the other aspects of our relationship, the rituals and routines aren’t being done.

She will be the first one to come to my defense and tell me its okay because I’m tired. My tired is really tired, exhausted. I have seizures if I push myself too hard and as the wonderful caretaker she is, she knows my physical limitations and when I need to rest. That’s all good, and I love her for knowing me so well and wanting to take care of me so I don’t implode, but our relationship suffers when the rituals and routines we established are absent too long regardless of the reason. It took me a long time to accept being cared for like a child when I can’t do anything for myself. The dominant is supposed to care for the submissive, not the other way around, but even when Beauty is doing so much because I can’t do it for myself, I have to remember the structure needs to stay in place. Of course it can be absent for a few days or even a week if I can’t walk, speak, and am confused and can’t problem solve, but if they are absent for too long, the structure of our relationship and its dynamic will suffer, even though neither of us want it to.

So now after that long babble I will get to the point of rituals and routines. Rituals are the special things you do in your relationship that makes it unique or makes it special for the both of you, and routines are how you live your day to day lives. These can be BDSM and vanilla based. Every relationship has its routines, but BDSM relationships are much more likely to have rituals. You might think that the specific BDSM rituals are more important because they are specific to the power exchange relationship, but I believe both have equal importance.

Some of our routines can be pretty mundane but that doesn’t make them unimportant. Dinner on the table around 5:30, turn on the heater in the downstairs bathroom 10 minutes before I’m going down for my long soak in the tub. Have a mug of hot tea ready to be microwaved so it can be brought to me as soon as I’m ready to sit down after work, send a text to show me you are up by the time expected. Do x, y, z chores on whatever given day. Make sure I always have something to drink, I could go on. If you look at these you will notice that they are pretty much made up of things Beauty does to tend to me, our home, and our pets. If these things don’t get done, there are issues because Beauty is expected to carry out her routines which make our lives run smoothly, and which help me come home to a tranquil place after my crazy day.

Now let’s look at our rituals. Saturday evenings we have an hour set aside for open communication. I’m not saying we don’t communicate every day, but this hour is when we, or especially Beauty can talk frankly about anything that isn’t feeling right for her. Sometimes getting her to do this is like pulling teeth. She never wants to say something hasn’t felt right, or that I missed doing this or that for her that’s important. I really want her to tell me because her feelings and needs are just as important as mine, and the things I don’t do because I’m stressed or tired and forget or just don’t do because I don’t have the energy are important. They make her feel loved, wanted, needed, secure, and provide the structure and discipline she needs.

Good girl spankings or as they are called in DD, maintenance spankings, are very important. These aren’t super painful and aren’t meant to be. They aren’t for punishment, they are to bring us closer and keep the balance. The implement used is my hand or the leather slapper she loves. They are done over my lap in our bed. There is no corner time attached to them, no lecturing as they are being done. There is usually an orgasm for her built in and cuddling after with her curled up in my arms and on my lap. I absolutely cannot do these daily but I should. They are good stress relievers for both of us. They involve intimacy which is so important. They let her know that I care about and love her. Our relationship suffers when I let these slide, and they do take a good deal of energy so I am guilty of doing just that.

The wearing of her collar every day is both a ritual and a routine. Beauty’s collar isn’t one that is a simple ring of steel that locks. Hers is a very intricate and beautiful necklace that cannot be worn in bed or in the shower. There was a time when she would ‘forget’ to put it on and it drove me nuts. I felt as if she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. She received her collar when she received her ring in the same ceremony. It made me feel awful when she wasn’t putting it on. Guess what? That was on me. When other things slide, she feels less valued and less mine. The collar indicates her ownership status and her submission to me. When she was feeling too blah and dirty (need to shower, not dressed for going out of the house, sloppy) to put it on, it was because I wasn’t doing what I’d promised. I wasn’t giving her my part of our D/s relationship but expecting her to carry out all those routines that keep our lives running smooth and make my world comfortable, and she wasn’t feeling good about herself which is my part as her dominant to make sure of. Why do you want to be owned if the one who owns you isn’t meeting your needs?

The collar lost some of its meaning. This was a huge issue. I was shocked, hurt, you name it. I was stunned and I shouldn’t have looked at it as her doing something negative, I needed to look at what was missing and what the collar meant to her. We needed to work the kinks out of our kink relationship and that didn’t mean punishing her more for not doing her chores, it meant getting back to the time for talking, the good girl spankings, the support for her issue with procrastination and time management, not fussing at her or spanking her with the hairbrush. You can’t just do one, the bad ie: spanking and punishing, without doing the good ie: loving spankings, good communication, support that helps the routine hold up.

When I was fussing at her instead of supporting her, when I was expecting her to do all her stuff and not being a good dominant by doing my part that included intimacy of BDSM play and being the one in control and doing it the right way with taking care of my responsibilities, she didn’t feel like she was good enough and therefore wasn’t remembering her collar or deliberately leaving it on my dresser. This is kind of painful to write and it’s hard because our friends think we have this wonderful marriage and great D/s relationship that so many people long for, but our D/s side was going way south and that in turn was hurting our marriage because the foundation it was built upon, the rituals and routines were a mess. I can blame it on my state of mind and Beauty will be the first one to defend me because really, my work is hell, but even when every day is hell, I have to be the wife and dominant I signed on to be. I can’t expect her to do all the s in the D/s if I’m not doing the D part.

So we tweaked things. Some of it helps me to relax so I don’t let the stress of work slide over into home. I’m taking steps so I don’t become as depressed. Part of this has to do with menopause too but even with that and my health issues, I have to do my part. It’s hard, but when I see her starting to slip, I have to turn right around and look at myself. So what are some of our routines or rituals I know others do?

Make the collar as important as it is and value all it stands for. We have friends who have a wonderful routine that takes place every morning and each night. When Debbie’s collar comes off at night it is placed in a special bowl that remains by the bed. When they wake up, she gives Steve the bowl and he places her collar on his bare chest as they lie in bed because it warms the collar for her. It’s nice and warm from his body heat so when he puts it on her a little while later it isn’t cold impersonal metal.

When I go to bed before Beauty which is all the time during the work week, she tucks me in and we do a little cuddle. Before it’s time for bed she turns on the heated mattress pad to warm the bed, fixes the covers and such like I like them, makes sure I have fresh water in my water bottle so all is right and she can just cuddle and say goodnight. On the nights we go to bed at the same time, we cuddle and hold hands while we fall asleep.

Good girl spankings are a must. Don’t give punishment spankings if you aren’t also giving good girl or nice loving spankings for pleasure. It isn’t right and it causes an imbalance. If BDSM play is a part of your power exchange then it needs to happen. It’s our recreation, it makes good feelings in us both, it releases stress, and it brings us together through intimacy. If I am too tired I need to remember that BDSM play releases a lot of stress and less stressed means less tired.

When I come home from work, whether Beauty picks me up because it’s an I can’t drive day or if I drive, the routine/ritual is I come in, wash up, get in my comfy clothes, and then we sit on the couch and Beauty rubs my feet as I have my mug of tea. My massage therapist said I had lots of ‘crunchies’ in my feet and carry my stress there. Some days I hobble once my work day is done and I have the chance to distress. Beauty rubbing my feet helps them not hurt, gives us time to talk about my day and her day, includes touch so it’s bonding, and help me let go of all the crap that happened or all the due dates of stuff that is spinning in my head. It may appear like a ritual that is really just for me, but it helps me let go and be in less pain, so trust me, it’s good for us.

Rituals can be a high protocol position of greeting when the dominant arrives, or a position that you begin any play session with. We have a ritual where Beauty takes up a position and asks me to do with her as I will. That means game is on. Whatever we are doing to play, we have begun it whether it’s role play funishment, or a caning massage. The words mean we have begun play, I am orchestrating what I have planned, and she can relax and go to her head space.

The difference between routines and rituals is that one is more of a day to day thing without intimacy or bonding attached though eliminating routines WILL screw up your intimacy and your bonding. The routine is dinner served by 5:30. The ritual is my plate served first, three squares of Dove dark chocolate with a glass of milk are served right after dinner and before she is doing kitchen clean up. The routine is make sure the bedroom is ready at least ½ hour before bedtime, the ritual is cuddle, tucking in, nose rubs and I love yous.

The routines is hot tea ready in a serene household when I get home from work or a mug of hot tea in the car when she picks me up. The ritual is a foot rub while I drink my soothing tea (not in the car of course!) but when we get home. The soothing touch relaxes me and is intimate. The routine is do as I have asked you and have chores done. The ritual is I always say thank you, recognize the good things she has done through praise and good girl spankings and cuddling. The routine is wear your collar every day, the ritual is I put it on even if she takes it off when she gets home from driving me to work at 6:00 a.m. and goes back to bed for a bit.

The routines are how the relationship runs, what it looks like, what it includes that meets both the dominant and submissive’s needs. The rituals are the oil that makes it run smoothly and the gas that makes it run at all. How do you show praise and respect? How do you make each other feel loved and wanted? How do you make that symbol of your D/s relationship have special importance? How to do add touches be they positions, words, or deeds that make you D/s relationship more than the cookie cutter I read how to do this in a book kind of relationship?

If you are dominant, make sure routines are clearly set and understood and make sure you don’t forsake those rituals that make your relationship uniquely yours. If you are submissive, communicate. It’s okay to say something isn’t realistic because of x, y, or z. It’s okay to ask for things and I’m not talking about material things but yes those matter too. It’s okay to make mistakes too, but it’s also okay to say sorry.

Rules, routines, rituals, ways of service, ways of communicating, ways of play, way of punishment are all part of a good working healthy relationship. To achieve this both partners must believe what is set out is important. It’s the dominants job to create loving, secure structure. Don’t always look to what the s type is doing wrong and just punish. Look to the why are they misbehaving or failing to do as required. Is it special enough? Does it need a ritual attached to make it more meaningful? Yes they are supposed to have an innate and sincere desire to serve only you, but if they are not getting their emotional and physical needs met things will start to drop away. Routines are important, but rituals are vital. They don’t have to be Old Guard, they don’t have to be typical BDSM, but they do have to be something that both of you feel binds you in a very special way.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve​’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.) 

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air. 

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe. 

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control. 

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too. 

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity. 

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

*****

*****

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[jekacatrina]

A memory safe in my soul

I come with a humble gift for @a-hobit because their Bakudeku comic made me so happy and we had a super nice conversation in which they gave me green light to write this. I hope you like it, but no pressure, this was written with love and it's so self indulgent, like everything I write!

Izuku believed in giving his all in every fight, plus ultra. How could he not if he had grown next to Kacchan, both admiring All Might, the man who gave his everything? That being said, when it came to training, he did try to tailor his power to the person who asked to spar with him. The purpose behind accepting wasn’t always to hone his abilities, but to help his classmates improve. Therefore, whatever his friends needed from him and his skills, he did his best to deliver.

Problem with that was that he could still get carried away during a fight, especially with strong opponents. So when Todoroki asked him to spar, Izuku got excited. His friend was a brilliant fighter, and his quirk turned him into a hero who could shield and attack in equal opportunities.

Truth be told, Izuku hadn’t been training that hard prior to the request. He had been too preoccupied watching Kacchan go through his air maneuvers, working on breaking out a sweat despite the cold weather. Izuku could lie to himself all he wanted and say he was taking notes for Float and Black Whip, but honestly he just found him captivating. Every explosion was perfectly timed, not a movement wasted. Kacchan was inspiring, and he was hogging all his attention instead of letting him take advantage of the gym time.

Todoroki proved to be a great distraction, since Izuku loved to measure his progress in contrast to his classmates’, see how far he had advanced as he faced people who had had their quirks since birth, and he couldn’t help but to be a little competitive. That’s why when he managed to break through his ice and fire defenses, he forgot that what Todoroki had in raw power he lacked in hand to hand combat.

As his friend lifted a hand to fend him off, Izuku didn’t hesitate to kick it away hard, leaving him open to strike. He used the leverage to arch his other leg in a powerful second kick, which connected with his friend’s face and sent him sprawling, the ice that covered the floor serving as a slide, and Todoroki almost fell off the platform.

“Todoroki-kun, are you okay?!” Izuku promptly ran to him, his friend was getting on his hands and knees, shaking his head as if he was rearranging his thoughts or checking how many of his teeth rattled. “I’m so sorry, I went too hard, didn’t I?” He slid his hands under his armpits, pulling him from the edge, and helped him to his feet.

“Stop apologizing for hitting me during fights,” his voice was calm as usual, if a little winded. “I knew what I was getting into, Midoriya.” He raised his face to stare at him, and Izuku couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “What?” Todoroki asked, dumbfounded.

“You might need to wash your face,” he replied, still laughing despite how rude it was, but he couldn’t help it. There was a clear imprint of the sole of his shoe on his friend’s face, black stripes and everything. Todoroki used his ice as a mirror, and the closest to a reaction he got was a few quick blinks.

“Oh, okay,” he walked to the edge of the training mat, lightly touching his cheek. Izuku failed to stifle his giggles, caught in his own bubble until he heard him.

“PFFFFF!”

He swirled and found Kacchan standing a couple of steps away from them. Izuku hadn’t seen him as Todoroki and he fought. Had he been watching the match?

As his friend passed next to Kacchan, he saw the red eyes open comically wide before he erupted in loud guffaws.

“For fuck’s sake, IcyHot, have you ever heard of ducking? I can almost read the nerd’s shoe brand on your face and that shit wore off years ago!” That was all he could get out before his childhood friend was doubled over, shoulders shaking as he brought a hand to his mouth, probably to smother his booming laugh, but not quite covering it, so Izuku had a perfect view of the corners of his lips lifted in an genuine grin, no bite or sharpness in it, just pure amusement.

Kacchan looked so young, and happy, and Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

He stood there, drinking the sight of him with the same intensity he analyzed heroes, wishing he could commit to memory every single detail. Izuku touched his chest lightly when he felt a sweet and intense pang in it. He didn’t know a heart could crack from happiness, and all because he hadn’t heard Kacchan laugh like that in years.

His childhood friend turned to him, and their gazes met. Izuku gave him a tentative smile, and the laugh was gone, replaced by his battle smirk and smoldering eyes.

“What are you looking at, you damn nerd?” Kacchan said, marching to him, palms up and smoking already. “You’re looking for a real match? I’ll wipe the floor with you before you can even land a blow.”

Izuku activated One for All, energy coursing through his body and lighting him up inside. Kacchan was really the fire in him; he was incapable of refusing a challenge from him. Well, he was incapable of rejecting anything from him.

Whatever Kacchan was willing to give him, Izuku would take it, and he would do it with a smile.

“I’m ready when you are, Kacchan,” he taunted him, raising his guard.

The blond ran to him, and blasted his palms under him before reaching him, flying over his head in an arch and easily avoiding his punches. Immediately after landing, Kacchan ducked out of the way of a kick, smirking before releasing an explosion which was pure smoke, obscuring his field of vision. Izuku thought back on the notebook with the quirks of his OFA predecessors. Even with just one quirk, Kacchan was his perfect match.

Just before they clashed again, Izuku sent up a wish to whoever was listening:

Let Kacchan and I smile together someday. Just once, I want to be the reason he’s smiling.

In the meantime, Izuku would save the memory of this moment safely in his soul for future strength: Kacchan laughing, safe and content.

----

Thank you for reading, I had such a blast writing this! Hope you guys liked it, I just can't wait to see how their relationship is going to change now that everything is out in the open!

[wing-ed-thing]

Retail Therapy (Kakuzu x Reader)

Synopsis: Deidara has a new partner for a combined effort with the Zombie Combo. However, something about you has Kakuzu heated.

Word Count: 2,123

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Threat of Violence, Probably Language, Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Kakuzu content is probably some of the best stuff I’ve ever written. Right now I’m watching a video on fried milk. Ever hear of such a thing? Fascinating.

Kakuzu didn’t like being paired up with Hidan, let alone joint missions where he’d have to deal with even more people. Not to say that Kakuzu hated people, because he did, but he never thought that he’d hate anyone more than he absolutely hated you. He hadn’t even met you yet, but he knew at his very core that you would quickly become the bane of his entire existence.

“Shopping?” Kakuzu asked slowly, the word forming on his lips as if he had an aversion to even speaking it. Deidara leaned back on the large bounder that he settled on and stretched his arms up above his head. The blond nodded with a short groan before his hands came to rest behind his head.

“Yep,” he answered, “And for hours too, so I’d get comfortable.” Hidan plopped down on a patch of dirt below, his back and scythe against the side of the rock. Kakuzu glared down at his partner causing Hidan to shrug. To Hidan, if Deidara thought that the three of them would be waiting a while, he would take his word and make himself comfortable. Kakuzu’s attention turned back to Deidara.

“Hours? What possibly could someone be purchasing that takes them hours?” Hidan gazed up from his spot, head tilted back against the surface behind him.

“And we only came like five minutes late too. Who takes off like that?” Kakuzu almost nodded in agreement, but knowing his partner, Hidan would take any excuse to complain. Deidara shrugged, basking in the warmth of the sun and stayed lounging even as a rustling came from the woods. Hidan’s hand immediately reached up to grip the handle of his weapon and Kakuzu took a defensive stance. Deidara’s eyes remained closed.

“Oh hello, boys! I didn’t know you were here!” You sauntered out of the trees, bags hanging from both arms. They were pushed tightly in a line, every other patch of your skin strained by the handles of a different shopping bag. Even in your altered Akatsuki cloak, Kakuzu took a look at you and immediately decided that you were decorated far too ornately and that he’d like to kill you when he had the chance. You were objectively beautiful, but if Kakuzu had his way, Deidara would have to be assigned another partner soon. “You haven’t been waiting for too long, have you?”

“You shouldn’t have left us waiting at all,” Kakuzu glowered, although not any more than usual. Either you didn’t hear him or you ignored him as you walked up to your partner. You plucked a package from one of your more reachable bags.

“I got you something, Dei-dei!” You threw it up to Deidara weakly but he managed to catch it. He opened the small, folded, paper bag. Deidara glanced down at you with a nod of his head and a fold of his lips. He took the neat band in his hand while you looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t they nice? Hair ties. Silk from a small village in the Land of Water.” Deidara held them up to the sun.

“That’s some great quality you found. Thanks.” Your partner glanced down at you again. “Must’ve been one hell of a fight assuming that you got a good price for it.” Kakuzu looked on at your exchange, increasingly beginning to lose his temper.

“Believe me, I did. And I found a ton of other great finds too. I gotta show you—”

“Enough,” Kakuzu growled and you finally turned your attention his way. Hidan had since passed out against the boulder that Deidara sat on. “You’re wasting all our time. The sooner we start, the sooner we can part ways.” You gave Kakuzu a once over with your nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Well someone’s grumpy,” you mused. You rolled your eyes and pointed your nose upward. Huffing, you threw your shopping bags into the air and as they fell, you swiftly unfurled a scroll. Your new items disappeared one by one. You rolled the paper back up, scowling as you slipped the scroll into one of many slots that you wore strapped to your clothing. The pockets ran down the small of you back and you latched the bundle of paper in place with a flip of your nimble fingers. Kakuzu frowned back, tentatively wondering if all the scrolls you carried contained the same amount of shopping bags. You approached him with crossed arms. “Okay then, tough guy. Let’s get started.”

You sat down and summoned a map of the next village. It laid out in front of you and placed your hands on your knees in challenge. Kakuzu sat down on the other side of the map, eyes boring into you. You didn’t budge. And as you began to speak, it was hard to focus, at least for Deidara. Though he supposed he’s seen you this fired up before.

“It would be easier if we lure the jinchūriki outside of the village,” you said, gesturing to the small, unnamed village on the map. It wasn’t large, but just big enough to serve as a maze for your prize. At least you knew the woods better and a jinchūriki was bound to stand out among the trees.

“I can get up some traps,” Deidara added and you nodded.

“Back them into a corner and cage them into a small space—” You nodded again— “We can use some explosives around the area… maybe here?” You pointed to a section of the map outside of the village. You looked up at Deidara. “You’d be our last line of defense when the jinchūriki tries to run.” Deidara smirked and puffed out his chest.

“Leave it to me!”

“We’ll need someone to drive the jinchūriki out of the village,” Kakuzu cut in, not particularly liking how you dominated the strategizing. “I’ll go with Hidan.” While Kakuzu thought that he would stop at nothing to get away from the Jashinist, this had to be a regrettable first. Hidan napped a few feet away.

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “You and Hidan? Psh… might as well have Deidara set off fireworks in the sky that spell out ‘single, hot jinchūriki in your a—”

“I can do that!” Deidara cut in before immediately backing down at Kakuzu’s pointed glare, not that he’d show it. You locked eyes with Kakuzu, taking his fiery stare off of your partner.

“I’ll go. You’re too conspicuous and, really, have you seen Hidan? You two would be spotted a mile away.” Kakuzu almost snarled.

“And you wouldn’t?” You let out a short, bitter laugh. Your left arm supported your weight as your knees touched together on the right side of your body. Kakuzu scowled at your blatant lounging. Everything about you challenged him and he hated you for it. Your lids narrowed in a smug smile.

“I’m not the one—” who’s fuckin’ jacked — “ with big-ass black stitches across my whole body.”

“And four faces on his back…” Hidan called out, still half asleep. You turned back to Kakuzu.

“And four faces on his back,” you repeated, much to Kakuzu’s vexation. The sass in your blinks was lost on the older shinobi. He stood, causing you to stand too. Deidara took a hint and retreated. Kakuzu crossed his arms over his chest and he planted his feet on the ground about the same width apart as his broad shoulders. He pointed two fingers at you harshly.

“And you’re—” Gorgeous. — “a brat. I should just kill you right here.” You stood your ground, daring to slap Kakuzu’s hand out of your face.

“As much as I’d like to see you try, tough guy, I’d actually like to do some quality work and get the hell away from you as quickly as I can.” Kakuzu huffed, gritting his teeth underneath his mask.

“Nice to hear that we’re on the same page.”

And with neither of your partners wanting to deal with either of you pissed off, you and Kakuzu were paired together.

***

Deciding that your cloaks were too noticeable, you sealed yours away. Kakuzu kept his draped across his arm, distrust of you evident. You walked down the road together under the late afternoon, waiting for nightfall. You hoped that striking at night would give you not only the surprise advantage, but also minimize the number of clueless civilians that would no doubt wander in your way. But as soon as your eyes fell onto the market, Kakuzu quickly began to wonder if his stubbornness landed him with an even larger headache. But his usual, standoffish demeanor remained the same. Kakuzu’s eyes drifted to their corners as he scowled down at you.

“No.” That was all he said, as if you would actually listen to him and not immediately march in the direction of the market. He reluctantly followed, every reach to hold you back by your robes falling just a bit short each time. By the time you were stopped, too many people surrounded the two of you for him to pull you away without drawing attention. Normally, attention from others wasn’t anything that Kakuzu would be concerned with, but your two teams had their orders and Kakuzu would be damned if he had to spend anymore time with you.

You stood in front of a booth with your hand on your chin. Kakuzu stood next to you, following your gaze to a simple, but sturdy-looking sword. You gingerly picked it up, carefully studying it’s craftsmanship. The man behind the booth leaned over his table, motioning to the piece of merchandise in your hands.

“Ah, you have a good eye, mercenary.” You glanced up at him.

“Land of Earth? Lots of excellent craftsmanship comes from there, I’m not surprised.” You ran your thumb across the dull of the blade. “Antique too, but still hardy.” The merchant nodded pointing to a few spots across the weapon.

“Could get you out of a bind too. Reliable smithing comes from Tsuchi no Kuni.” Kakuzu looked on at the show in front of him. In stark contrast to earlier, you seemed poised and he found you knowledgeable. You appeared calm and competent enough to handle yourself and for a second, Kakuzu became lost in your analysis.

You stepped back, turning the sword around in your hand to feel out the balance. The blade whipped around your body with ease. The seller softly applauded your embellished practice. Kakuzu almost rolled his eyes, but took some comfort in the fact that you were looking to purchase something of quality and not just anything at the very least. You looked down at the weapon with a nod or two before asking the dreaded question.

“So what’s your price?” The merchant didn’t hesitate.

“A hundred thousand ryō.” Kakuzu almost left right there, but a dominant part of him wanted to know what you were going to do. His hands grasped his biceps, his cloak still hanging from his forearm. Kakuzu watched you closely. You shook your head.

“You’re going to give it to me for twenty-five thousand.” The merchant gaped at the outrageous price you named. He sputtered a few times.

“That price is far too low for this quality. You must be joking if you think I’d sell this fine piece of equipment for practically nothing.”

You did name a ridiculous price. Not even Kakuzu could see getting what you wanted for that price without a fair bit of violence and intimidation. But you ripped into that merchant. You ripped into this poor seller like nothing Kakuzu had ever seen before. He didn’t even know if he could call it bartering, but whatever it was, it was likely one of the most skillful things that Kakuzu had ever seen.

He folded his lips under his mask. You didn’t yell. Kakuzu didn’t even find your appearance intimidating in the slightest, yet every point and number the merchant brought up, you countered. And by the end of the intense conversation, if Kakuzu didn’t know any better and had less of a spine, he’d likely be handing the sword over too. The man had long since started sweating, tugging at his collar. If Kakuzu didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it as you handed over exactly twenty-five thousand ryō. He almost overlooked the complete waste of money as he still stood stunned, though not outwardly showing any such emotion.

You nestled the sword by your hip and the seller let out a breath of relief by the time you walked away. Kakuzu followed wordlessly next to you as you strutted off in triumph.

Perhaps he misjudged you. He stared, not noticing as he did so.

Yes, you were going to save the organization a fortune.

Notes: “oH mY gOd KaKuzU sAiD hE wAs GoNna KiLl rEader! wHy wOuLd yOu wRiTe sOmEtHiNg sO tOxIc???”... They’re criminal terrorists, Susan.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[laurie-stark]

Get up and get out

Summary: Sort of part two to Unwanted. A year after fighting in Germany, y/n has to deal with the insufferable Peter Parker being around the house all the time. 

Pairings: Peter Parker x stark!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader. 

Warnings: swearing, angst? i guess? mentions of blood. mentions of panic nightmares 

A/N: Again, I want to make it very clear so there isn’t any confusion: Y/n is Tony’s biological child, however, being raised also by Natasha, Steve and Pepper, she calls them Muma, Pops and Mom. Hopefully that makes sense LOL oh and also i’ve never written like...kiss scenes before so just go with it okay?

He was here again. Third time this week that he has come barging into my home and taken over my training center. Okay, to be fair, it was not my training center but still. Peter Parker will never stop being a pain in my ass. Ever since that stupid trip to Germany, he has been coming over and training for hours, or working with Dad. Three times just this week I’ve had to endure listening to Peter talk with his stupid little voice and walk around my house like he owns the place. Who does he think he is? And every time I have to sit through another dinner of Dad blabbing on and on about what a miraculous boy he is.

               “Really y/n, I think you two would be great friends,” I rolled my eyes as I picked at my dinner. The rest of the family ate in silence around the table. The last thing I wanted to do is spend more time with stupid Spider-boy. On the afternoons when he was here, I tried my best to stay out of his way. I would stay on my floor and he stays on his. Simple. I don’t need a new friend.

“…And he’s coming by again tomorrow, so I was thinking of showing him A.P.R.I.L. if you wanted to join us-” Dad continued.

What the hell? I thought. “No!” I snapped. “No way. A.P.R.I.L. is mine, I don’t want him messing with her.” Dad frowned at me. The rest of the table looked up in my direction. My shoulders tensed up as I faced my father. A.P.R.I.L. is my baby and I was ready to go toe to toe with him if I needed too.

“What do you mean no? I thought you’d be excited to share that with him,” he started.

“Well I’m not, so back off,” I sneered. The shift in his expression made me want to bite my own tongue. “Please.”

“I seriously do not understand what your problem is. You’ve been complaining for years how there’s only adults but the second a kid your age comes by you’re all “oooh no don’t talk to me Peter!””

I scoffed. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t want to bother you and your new best friend.”

“There it is. Why are you so jealous of him? He’s not that cool. He hasn’t made a fully functioning A.I at the age of 15. He just spits sticky stuff out of his fingers. Honestly y/n, you’re making zero sense right now.”

“Whatever, I’m over this,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I grabbed my untouched dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m not hungry. And don’t show him A.P.R.I.L., I mean it!” I dumped my plate in the sink and marched right down the hall towards the elevators. My dad was right. I wasn’t making any sense. Ever since I made A.P.R.I.L I’ve used every excuse I could find to shove her down people’s throats. Anyone who would listen to me, I would tell them. Tell them all about how I programmed her to have realistic personality. How she’s running through the walls of this place, through my room, even inside the bracelet I never take off. All I knew is that I didn’t want Peter Parker anywhere near her.

I shut the door to my hard, and flopped onto my bed. A.P.R.I.L. reminded me that slamming the doors usually results in a punishment. I acknowledged her with a half-hearted grunt. I started programming A.P.R.I.L. when I was thirteen. Or rather, reprogrammed. A.P.R.I.L. was made from an older prototype version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. The base stuff was already there, I just moved some things here, recoded there until she was perfect. I don’t know why I got so defensive about Peter meeting her. Or why I had to pick another fight with my dad.

It was easier these days. To fight him, I mean. I suppose I never got over the whole “Peter is better, I choose him over you, blah, blah” thing as much as I thought I did. So, I would pick fights. Fighting over Peter was the simplest way to go, considering he was the reason I was so angry in the first place. Sometimes we would fight over him, other times we would fight over silly things. Like how I keep forgetting not to put my coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Most of the time it was all just bickering that would blow over in thirty minutes, give or take. Sometimes it was explosive, like today.  I took in a shaky breath and sprawled out across my sheets. Sometimes this family is a fucking nightmare.

Dad didn’t come by this time. It threw me off for a second because he always comes by. Even if it’s six hours later and neither of us should be awake, he still comes by with a box of milk duds that we share in silence before one of us apologizes first. That’s how we work. When it finally sunk in that he was not planning on coming, I put A.P.R.I.L. on the job. I figured perhaps he left the compound, maybe took Mom for a nighttime stroll.

“Your father is on floor B, Miss Stark,” A.P.R.I.L. informed me.

“Jesus A.P.R.I.L., how many times have I said to cut the formalities,” I muttered.

“My apologies, y/n.”

Floor B. What the hell is he doing on floor B at…12:00 in the morning? Floor B is strictly for members of household and other Avengers. There are a billion different training rooms down there. Weight rooms, boxing, a huge pool, stuff like that. Not to taint his image, but I can safely say the last time my father willingly worked out for fun was probably before I was even born. Why was he down there? Unless…

“A.P.R.I.L. who else is on floor B right now?” I asked. “Throw it on the hologram, would you dear?

The sounds of the hologram starting filled the room. A.P.R.I.L. pulled up the security map of floor B, like I’d asked. There was my dad, floor B in the boxing room of all places. Pops and Sam looked to be going at it in another one of the combat training rooms. My confusion only rose when another nametag popped up on the screen. My brows furrowed.

Peter Parker

What was he doing here? Why was he boxing? Why was he not in his own home at midnight on a Thursday? My mind was spinning with questions. A knock at my door startled me.

“Come in…”

Natasha popped her head through the doorway. “Hey there…whatcha doing kid?”

I swiftly swiped away the hologram screen and sat up straight. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Well, we’re getting a little worried about you,” she said. We being everyone else at the table who had to witness my brawl with Dad. She sat down beside me. “You haven’t fought back like that in a long time and I’ve noticed you’re fighting with him a lot recently. You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I wanted too. God, I wanted too. I hadn’t told anyone what my father said to me that day after the airport, not even my mom. But it didn’t matter. I’d get over it sooner or later, so there was no point troubling anyone else with my problems…right? My eyes started to well up but I blinked away the tears. “No. Everything’s fine,” I put on a smile.

Natasha tucked me in under her arm. “Okay then. Maybe tomorrow.” That was Muma for you. She never pushed me to talk but knew I would come around at some point. In the meantime, she just held me. I cried into her embrace. She let me cry into her shoulder for a long while, until I was empty. After a time, I let go and she got up, giving me a kiss on the head before wishing me a good night.

I rubbed my hands over my face, brushing off any remaining tears. “A.P.R.I.L. bring the hologram back up please.”

“Are you sure y/n?”

…

“Yeah.”

Peter was still in the boxing room but my father was not. Upon further digging, I found the nametag reading Tony Stark on my floor. He’d gone to bed. I pondered to myself as to whether or not I should venture downstairs. What is the worst thing that could happen? Peter is secretly a Hydra spy and kills me? No, I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous. Another minute passed and I’d made up my mind.

“A.P.R.I.L. engage “I am definitely here”,” I commanded.

“”I am definitely here” protocol engaged. Volume minimized to 5% and your tracking tag will be pinned to this room,” A.P.R.I.L. responded. “Good luck on your mission small agent.”

“Oh shut up,” I chided. I closed the door to my room as softly as I could. It was nearly one in the morning, most of the hall would be asleep. Or at least they should be. The hallway was silent, except for the soft noise of my socks padding along the floor. I cursed myself for looking so ridiculous. If anyone caught me, I could easily say that I was just getting a midnight snack. Not sneaking down to spy on Spider-bitch. Boy. Whatever. Sneaking added to the excitement.

I made it downstairs all in one piece. Steve and Sam nearly passed me in one of the halls, but I had ducked into a briefing room. I could totally be a spy. Maybe I’m a Hydra spy. I thought. And they sent me here as a baby to take down the Avengers from the inside. What was I going on about? This was why I should really be in bed, I was clearly delirious. Once again, distracting myself in my thoughts led to me getting startled. I hadn’t even realized I was outside the boxing room. I would have walked right in if not for the handy wall that I smacked into.

Peter was in the ring, practicing his punches. He’d lowered down one of the punching bags from the ceiling and it was close to ripping at the seams. He was really going ham on it. The questions piled on. So, he came over to my house at midnight to…train? Something he had all afternoon today to do? God, he was weird. I suppose I didn’t quite know what I was going to get myself into when I finally walked in to confront him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, arms folded tightly across my chest.

Peter started and looked down at me. Sweat was dripping down his face. He looked exhausted. “Training,” he said bluntly. He returned to treating the punching bag like it had run over his dog.

“At one in the morning? And after you spent like six hours today doing just that?” I was not letting him off that easy. Peter ignored me and continued punching. “Your form is shit.” I mocked.

That made him stop. “Funny coming from the girl who never leaves her room. When have you ever trained? Like ever?”

“I still beat your ass.”

“Yeah like, a year ago when I was barely an avenger.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still aren’t.”

“What do you want?” Peter spat.

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I stared him down with a smug look on my face.

“You are always such a bitch, you know that?”

I faked a pout. “Aw…bite me.”

Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. “If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well get a few punches in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Consider it a rematch.”

I studied his physique for a moment. He’d grown a lot since Germany. He’d also trained a lot since then as well. I had done little of either. I knew that entering that ring would probably end up with me losing my dignity and maybe even a tooth. But I was not going to let him stand there with his stupid, sweaty face and get away with it. This is not a good idea, I thought as I took off my socks. I moved the ropes and stepped into the ring, standing a foot in front of the boy.

“I’ll still win.”

“No powers either.”

“Deal.” Not like I’ve touched my powers since…since the incident.

Peter took his stance and I did my best to mirror him. I realized in that moment that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about boxing. Or sparring. I didn’t know how to fight without my powers. Oh, sweet Jesus.

We kept our distance at first, fists up. He threw a few punches and missed. I followed in suit. I finally got the first hit, a nice throw to his chest. He took it like a champ and didn’t flinch. Or rather, I couldn’t hit for shit and it didn’t hurt. He threw a punch to my left, only to miss on purpose and punched me square across my jaw. Ow. I chuckled lowly. The taste of blood filled my mouth from the fresh cut on my lip. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. All I could see was white rage.

Forget form, forget rules, forget everything. I lunged at him with everything I had. Lunged at him for all the bullshit he had brought into my life. For all the bitter things I had to hear my father say that weren’t even Peter’s fault. He was clearly not expecting my attack because we both fell to the ground. We fought tirelessly on the mat. He was physically stronger than me, so by default he was winning. He wrestled me until I was pinned under him. One hand was pinning my hand above my head, the other arm pinning down my body. In any other circumstances I would be amused to find myself in such a scandal. I looked in his eyes briefly and I could already tell he thought that he was winning. If there’s one thing I learned from Nat, it’s to always step on their moment. I hooked my leg around his knee and used all my force to flip us over. I had him pinned down now, my hair falling around my face. We were both breathing heavily.

“Told you,” I taunted. I was mentally preparing him to punch back but he didn’t. He snapped his arms out from under me and shoved me off him, hard. I fell back against the mat. He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his pants. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet while his back was turned to me and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled a few steps after I pushed him. Slowly, he stretched back up to reach his full height.

“You’re right,” he turned to face me and extended a hand. “Shake on the truce?” I took his hand, accepting his surrender. Only, he was not really surrendering. The moment my hand touched his, he yanked me towards him. I tripped over my feet and fell into him. My chest crashed onto his. The world was a blur as he grabbed me with force and spun us around, so he could push me up against the ropes of the ring.

“Stop, Peter get off me you bitch!” I fought back. I flailed my whole body around, trying to break loose. One hand reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling my hair and forcing my head back. I froze. His face was dangerously close to my exposed neck. His shift let my opposite arm break free. I took a breathe and reeled it back, ready to smack him in the across the face. He caught my wrist in time without taking his eyes off mine.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “I win.” His breathe trickled down my neck. He had won, but he wasn’t moving. One hand was still in my hair, the other was pinning me against the ropes. His chest breathed heavily against my own. His grip on my head loosened slightly and I was able to look him straight on. He had that same smug look pasted across his face. His eyes moved from mine, trailing down my face, my neck, my body, before they settled on my lips. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed me hard. I tensed up slightly before giving into him completely. It tasted like blood and sweat and I felt like I was losing my mind. He pulled me closer, if that was even possible and claimed my mouth with his until my knees gave out. A newfound wave of warm washed through me. The hand in my hair gave a slight tug and my lips parted while that same hand moved to cup my jaw. For all I knew, the entire compound was wide awake and watching but I did not care. I brought my fingers to his hair, tugging at the ends. I smiled cunningly when he groaned into my mouth. He kissed me greedily and fully. Like he hated me. And I hated him.

We broke apart, limbs numb and chests heaving. The moment had passed, and our actions sunk in. What. The. Fuck. He lifted the ropes for me, and I climbed out of the ring. My head was still spinning from that kiss and my lip stung. Consequences I suppose, for kissing someone with a busted lip. I silently pulled my socks back on and Peter handed me a towel. Neither of us said another word. I left the room and didn’t look back. I could hear him behind me, but I was in no rush to have to look him in the eye ever again. What just happened?

 I woke the next morning to A.P.R.I.L. alerting me that “Father Dearest” was outside my door. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We both stayed quiet for a while.

I spoke first. “Where were you last night? You didn’t come by after…” I let my words trail off.

“I was going to, I swear. But then something came up with Peter and I had to go take care of that,” Dad answered.

I frowned. “Typical. Peter over your own flesh and blood, right?”

Dad inhaled sharply like he was going to bite back, but changed his mind. “That’s not true and you know it. Peter is…he’s going through something and I knew how to help him. Not everything is about you, you narcissist,” He said, joking at the end.

I had to push down my own smile. “Yeah well where do you think I got it from?” I sat up and leaned into my father. He brushed a hand down my back. “So, what’s wrong with Peter then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.” I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding a silent defeat. I felt like I was nine again and he was gossiping with me about the latest secretary. Like every fight had been forgotten in this moment. “He’s been having some nightmares ever since DC. You remember the ones we used to get after Loki?” I nodded. “Now you, you always amazed me at how you handled those. But for me and Peter, we needed a different outlet. So, I let him come over in the middle of the night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.” I hummed in response, not sure what to make of that information. I mean, I kind of felt bad for the guy. He was still a bitch, but those dreams suck. No one should have to deal with them. “He really isn’t as bad as you think, you know.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. “I think you’re right.”

tag list:

@runawayolives @ creation-magician @ eridanuswave @ markhyucksmells @ beep-beep-losersclub

[azuriteknight]

And then I didn’t sent it!

Because literally 2 days later, Sam confirmed in one of his streams that his character hadn’t been torturing or physically abusing Dream in prison. I hadn’t finished the analysis because I was having trouble with the last part, so I lost all motivation and didn’t finish it or send it. But I still have it in my notes app, and y’know what? I’m still pretty proud of it, so even though it’s not relevant anymore, I want to post it while I work on other art and analyzes

@farfran​ This would’ve been a nightmare to send over anon asks. A “little analysis” I said. At least you can finally see it now.

Please keep in mind: This was written March 31, 2021, which is why it does not mention more recent events in the lore. This also is not meant to be a discussion or defense on the conditions in Pandora’s Vault. This was spawned by a desire to disprove those saying c!Sam was physically abusing c!Dream with absolute certainty, parroting it as though it was a canon fact. I did not believe that accurately reflected the characterization of c!Sam up till that point and, that if it was true, it would take away from c!Sam corruption arc. So I wrote this to argue my point of view.

TW // Contains discussions of torture, physical abuse, abuse of authority, isolation & starvation

Okay, so a lot of Sam’s behavior shows that he’s not as in control in the prison as he’d like. Yes, Sam is the only Warden of the prison and has complete control over who goes in and out of the prison, but it’s established that he’s very scared of Dream, his only prisoner. Like he hated being around Dream, even implementing an automatic feeding system, so he’d have to be around Dream less. Sam’s conversation with Ranboo and Foolish confirms this further. He was so scared of removing Tommy because he thought that Dream could threaten Tommy into letting him out. He, the man with maxed Netherite Armor and several enchanted Netherite weapons, was scared of Dream threatening/taking Tommy hostage, despite the fact that Dream was completely weaponless and (logically) Sam could have easily overpower him if he did threaten Tommy. His conversation with Foolish shows how much Dream can psychologically torment him, even behind bars, taunting him with Tommy’s death and his plans for escape. This doesn’t really paint the picture of a Sam that would want to spend anymore time around Dream then necessary nor does it show Sam as having the confidence (fearlessness? Neither word seems right to use when talking about torture) to go into Dream’s cell and physically hurt him. To me, the idea of Sam physically abusing Dream comes from very small lines being blown out of proportion. Like, even before the whole “I thought I had broken his will” thing, people were speculating possible torture taking place based on the fact that he wouldn’t allow visitors due to Dream misbehaving, and people took that to mean he was reprimanding him physically, rather then just not allowing him visitors? Just seems like kinda a stretch to me. Also if we were supposed to get the idea that Sam was hurting Dream, you’d think that they’d imply that with Dream’s acting while people were visiting, Dream acting like he was in hurt or in pain while talking or running around the cell? Really, the only sign of mistreatment we’d gotten (up till that point) was Sam feeding him raw potatoes (which isn’t really abuse, poor conduct maybe), restricting visitors (which Sam says is because Dream was “misbehaving,” which isn’t unreasonable since we know Dream has been trying to escape, visiting would be a security hazard) and not feeding him as much as he should have, potentially starving him (which thinking about it now, I think that was only mentioned during BBH’s visit with Dream, when he was trying to get sympathy from BBH). Just seems like underfeeding (potential starvation) to actually physical torture is a bit of a stretch. One is a very direct abuse of authority that requires physically seeing and interacting with the prisoner, while the other is an indirect form of abuse that allows the Warden to keep his distance (which seems more inline with Sam’s fear of Dream).

Anyway, while I think it would be out of character for Sam up until that point to physically abuse Dream, based on their established dynamic in the prison, I also really feel like it would take away from not only Sam’s corruption arc but Quackity’s as well. Quackity’s decision really shows how determine he was to rob Dream of his power. And it was shocking! The fact that Quackity, a previously Neutral Good character, is willing to torture Dream, be the only character willing to cross that line, go that far, is impactful. If Sam had already been doing this, it robs this moment and decision of its shock. This is the first time in the story we see a character do something so morally black. Yes, the Dream SMP is dark and has characters who have done many morally reprehensible actions, but torturing a prisoner on the daily for a month to receive an item and killing him when he outlives his usefulness is, well, fucked up. Having a character already do this (offscreen and only ever implied, might I add), just feels cheap? This really was Quackity’s moment, showing his fall into greater corruption, and getting a (fucked up) win over Dream, a man whom he’s been against since the beginning. So, any other characters doing something like this prior would just feel like it would rob Quackity’s arc of such an impactful moment.

As for Sam’s arc, Quackity’s stream signals a change in Sam’s arc and a turn to corruption. Sam let’s Quackity enter the prison with weapons on him, but before Quackity enters Dream’s cell, Sam gives him his own weapons, including a sword literally called “Warden’s Will.” Giving Quackity his weapons is pretty obvious symbolism. Sam is allowing Quackity fulfill his “will,” essentially giving his blessing in this whole scenario. If Sam can’t touch Dream due to his own fear, then he can certainly let Quackity do the deed for him. There’s been a clear change in Sam’s perspective. More extreme and violent action is being used in the prison and Sam is allowing it. Not only is he allowing it, he begins to participate in it as well. After Ponk steals several (out of date) keycards, Sam tortures and maims Ponk himself in order to get these items that are practically harmless to the security of the prison. This shows a very clear line of progression in Sam’s ideology. If brutality and torture has to be used to receive the Revival Book knowledge Dream holds, then brutality and torture is needed to protect that prison until Quackity can complete his objective. The use of such severe measures becomes more normalized and justified if it can finally put in end to his role as warden of the prison. Because remember, Sam hates being the warden, it’s brought him nothing but misery. The only reason he isn’t stepping down is because he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with the responsibility. And the only reason he has the job of looking after Dream is because he suggested to Tommy to put him in prison, so they could still have the ability to revive people if need be, without letting Dream roam free. If Sam can allow Quackity the chance to get the revival knowledge they need, then Sam will be able to fulfill his original objective in becoming the prison warden (retain the possibility of reviving the dead) and finally be allowed to kill Dream. Dream, the man you commissioned the prison Sam now hates serving, the man who tormented him in prison by detailing to him how he abused Tommy, the man who killed Tommy and laughed. I don’t think Sam has ever been as desperate to remove the burden of the prison from his shoulders. So now, when Quackity comes along offering him a plan that can do just that, Sam takes it. And he’s willing to do anything to uphold his chance at freedom, no matter how heinous and immoral it may be. 

And honestly, isn’t that more compelling? Sam, a man previously known for his kindness and pumpkin pie, being corrupted and tormented by the codes and procedures of a Pandora’s Vault, a place that has become just as much his prison as it is Dream’s. And yet he can’t let go of them, no matter how pain they cause him and his loved ones, because of the self imposed burden he’s placed on himself to keep Dream imprisoned. That’s a lot more compelling (not to mention well written) than Sam becoming the warden and just immediately jumping to torture (off screen!) and never getting to see the development of how or why his worldview changed to where he could justify or even enjoy that. 

Ultimately, it just seems like Quackity being the only one to torture Dream works a lot better for both Quackity and Sam’s characters, than having Sam already be physically abusing Dream in prison.

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T.Shelby Imagine Ch. 25

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 18,006

WARNINGS: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, Continuous First Person to Third Person POV Shifts, ONE! Tom Third Person POV, Self-harm, Alcohol, SMUT! (NSFW): oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Summary: It’s March of 1922, Ali’s nearing the end of her stay with the Shelby’s. After years of waiting, she’s finally ready to move on, but will fate let her. 

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 24.2  CHAPTER 26

A/N: This chapter contains some POV switches as will the next chapter! Y’all know the deal. Black line breaks are there as a warning for the self harm scene. Only 1 ‘n it’s small! 

Smut is finally here! I haven’t written a SMUT scene in forever, so I fear I’m a little out of touch. 

It’s March of 1922 and things are going great! Well, not really, I had a mental breakdown so... I mean, not as bad as my last one, which was like a year ago. But, I was coming to terms with the fact that I killed someone! Someone who I did not have a paid hit on, but I murdered out of pure hatred. 

So, I had to do some inner reflection on that, and it would have gone a lot smoother if I had chosen to stop doin’ my side job. But I didn’t. I kept on with my “assassinating.” 

So was I really healed? Probably not, but hey! I don’t think about it anymore. I did it, I got away with— let’s move on. The guy was a douche anyway. Probably did society a favor. 

Yeah…

Right now I was cleaning up at Cassie’s flat. The gang was coming over soon, and I had to get the blood of a client off of me. The job was easier than most. I infiltrated another big party, seduced the target, and shot them in the chest and in the head. It’s a rule of thumb I have that I took from Zombieland. I got some blowback on me, so that’s why I’m taking a shower.

I’m not in the best of spirits tonight. Why, you may ask? Well, it’s because Michael and Arthur were to be arrested tonight. The only reason I knew was because Moss tipped me off. He caught me while I was visiting his wife. He took me aside and told me that Campbell had reason to arrest Michael, and he told me when it was going to take place.

The only reason why he was letting me know was because Campbell had his own plans for me. He didn’t know if Campbell wanted me arrested, but if I was on the scene— I was to be taken in. 

Let me tell you, I was so fucking proud of myself for befriending Moss’s wife! The single best thing I ever did. I mean, I knew I would be “bailed out” in no time thanks to all my rich mates, but Michael would still be in the clink. I think. I could ask around for some connections, if I needed to or was asked.

But, yeah. Michael and Arthur were being arrested tonight while I was at Cassie’s. Of course I felt guilty that I couldn’t prevent it, but it’s not like I could in the first place. That would mess with the timeline too much. 

Eventually, I got out of the shower, dried off, and put on my underwear. I’ve been trying to get more comfortable with my breasts, so I haven’t been wearing my bra to bed. In nothing but my towels and underwear, I walked out into the room.

“So,” I began while walking over to the bed, where I had my clothes laid out. “What’s on tonight’s agenda? Some heavy flirting? A therapy session? Or some good old fashion gambling?”

Cassie giggled, a pillow in her grasp as she threw open her arms. “All of it, babes!”

I chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear.” I dropped my towel and put on my dress. It was a velvet robe-like dress. Very flowy and comfortable, though it had a deep v-neck. Again, trying to get comfortable with my tits. Luckily, this process has been going on for a while and Dougie and Horace are now used to seeing a bit of my cleavage.

The pair do not regard me as anything more than a mate. Dougie is like my male twin flame while Cassie’s my female twin flame. They just match my vibe so fucking well! While Horace...well, he only has eyes for Angie. We bond pretty well academically, though. He answers a lot of questions I have pertaining some of the hypotheticals I conjure while writing.

After I put on my dress, I lotioned up my legs and arms before moving on to caring for my hair. I was brushing it out when the gang came in.

Dougie came up to me and kissed my temple before heading toward the table with the rest of the group. I hurriedly scrunched up my hair as I desperately wanted to join the conversation in fear of being left out. 

I threw my hair towel aside and quickly shuffled to the table. Cassie saw me coming and got up from her seat.

While beckoning me to her, she said. “Ali, c’mere.” 

I sat in her chair and once I was settled down, she sat on my lap. I sighed before asking, “So, what are we playing first?”

Cassie was sitting on my lap sidesaddle. She reached over on the table to the carton of ciggies that someone had thrown, tapped it on the bottom before pulling two out. 

With a ciggie hanging from her mouth, Angie replied while shuffling the cards. “We decided on Go Fish. Your favorite.” She winked at me and I returned it.

I giggled before accepting the ciggie Cassie held for me. She rested hers on her lip and just as she went to lit it— Dougie leaned over to us.

“Here, just use mine.” He said while pressing the end his ciggie to hers. 

Muffled, Cassie replied. “Thanks.” She looked back to me, took my face in her hands, and connected the ends of our ciggies. Basically, repeating what she’d just done with Dougie.

I swear to God, this group is so sus. And I think I’m partially at fault for how close and open the group is. I’m sorry, okay, I’m a physical person and I cut through the bullshit with the people I hold dear!

Angie dealt the cards, and I slid them closer to my face. I was exhaling when Cassie decided to start the conversation flow again.

She asked. “So Tina, how’s your married man? What was his name again?”

Tina tsked, a scowl on her face. “Darren, his name’s Darren. And, he’s fine...”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just fine? Who the hell’s starting?”

Angie cleared her throat. “I dealt so Douglas goes. Cassie’s sitting in your lap, so either you or her is next and vise versa. Then, Tina goes and finally Horace before me.”

I nodded as a quiet “oh” escaped my mouth. I looked back over at Tina.

Tina replied. “Yes, just fine.”

“So, has he filed for a divorce from his wife? Any sevens?” Dougie asked.

Horace and Angie gave him their cards.

Tina pouted, her arms crossing defensively. “He—! He’s been avoiding the question.”

All of us shared a glance and some of us hummed.

Dougie asked. “Any fives?”

“You know, statistically and due to England’s current standpoint on divorce— Darren is less likely to actually ask his wife for a divorce. There is an even lesser probability that the divorce would even be granted in a court of law—” 

The four of us girls shouted. “Go fish!”

“--because we’re obsessed with this “Christian purity.” And, his wife would have to be the adulterer. And as it stands right now only he has—!” Horace was spewing before he was cut off. His face contorting in pain before hunching over. 

Collectively, we all glanced at Tina, who was not holding up well. 

This was not going good, and the urge to tell her that I told her so, was not helping. She should just dump him, but eh, who was I to judge? 

I cleared my throat before holding my ciggie away from my lips, and asking through an exhale, “Anyone got any Queens?”

Cassie didn’t hesitate to give me two. I took the two I had in my hands and laid the four cards on the table. 

“Anyone got any nines?”

Angie threw one of her cards to me. Cassie passed it to me before looking over to Tina.

She said. “Well, Tina. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you. If ya want to stay with him, or leave him. We’ll be right here for ya.” 

All of us tried comforting her ‘n all we managed to get was a small smile in return. It didn’t reach her eyes, I knew that. However, I really wanted to have a good time so I was looking to change the subject. 

‘Just—! Anyone please talk about anything else!’

As I inhaled, I asked. “Any threes?”

“Go fish!”

I tsked.

I was laying down on the floor with Horace. Our arms were extended up in the air and we laid opposite to each other, if that made sense. Like basically, our heads were right next to each other. 

Our arms were in the air because I was playing with Horace’s fingers. Angie, Tina, Cassie, and Dougie were either sitting on the sofas/couches, or somewhere else in the room. He was a little drunk and wanted to calm down, so I offered to stay with him.

“So, how are things going with Angie, buddy?” I asked while still playing with his fingers.

He sighed and then chuckled. “Better. I think she… I think she’s beginning to like me back.”

I hummed and chuckled under my breath. “Well, don’t get too cocky there. She’ll knock back down a peg or two if she finds out that you’re feeling like that.”

Horace scoffed. “Don’t I know it. Hey! The only way she’d find out is if you tell her!”

My eyes widened and I spluttered rolling over to my sides. When I calmed down, I repositioned myself and grabbed hold of his fingers again. I sighed. “Well, that’s true but I promise I’ve never told her a thing.”

That’s a blag, I’m almost certain. It probably slipped from my tongue from time to time. 

I was running my fingertips over his short-cut fingernails while blowing raspberries. I took a deep breath before asking, “Well, you guys went on that date like last week, right? Angie’s told us some things, but how’d it go from your perspective?”

He blew raspberries before replying, “I think it went rather well. I mean she actually paid attention to me this time.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “Oh my god, Horace!”

“It’s true! This time I felt like she was actually like looking at me. I don’t know. She’s hard to read sometimes, but it’s endearing, really.”

“So, you’re saying that you like the mysterious side to her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, in a way, I am.”

“So, if you discover all there is to her, do you think you will lose interest in her?”

Horace and I grew quiet. His arms flopped down to his side which I repeated. I rolled over to my side, an arm supporting my head as my other hand scratched away at the rug.

Horace mimicked how I was laying, so that we were facing each other, and he sighed through his nose. “I don’t think I’ll ever know everything about her. People typically evolve over time as do their curiosities and interests. So, I don’t think you nor I nor Angie will ever fully know one another. However, to answer your question, no, I don’t think I would lose interest in her even if I knew everything about her. I—! I’ve been in love with her since I was a child, so it would be pretty odd if I were to just lose interest once we were together. I mean, then why the hell did I waste all these years pinning after her. You know?”

I hummed and nodded. “I feel that.” I continued picking at the rug. “Hey, Horace?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, um. Basically, you know what, nevermind, it’s dumb.”

“No, come on. Ask me.”

“No—”

“Just ask me.”

I sighed and looked down. “Well, I wanted to ask you since you’re a guy ‘n all. Um, why doesn’t Tommy like me?”

Horace’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he jerked his body around a little. Basically, shaking on his side like a mermaid out of water would, but not as violent. “Now, Aliena. Do you want an honest answer, or do you just want one that will solidify the ideas you already have in your head?”

I chuckled, a small smile spreading across my face before I shouted. “Both!”

Horace rolled over to his back and I inched closer to him. I hovered above him as he spoke. “Okay, then. The honest answer is, well, why does anyone not reciprocate a person’s love? It could simply be because you’re not the person’s type, or there could be any other extenuating circumstance. Why—? Why does Angie not acknowledge my love when I’m obviously ready to give her my all? She just has her reasons. Now, I’m not her nor am I your Tommy, so I can’t speak for him. I don’t know why he won’t look your way. Only he could truly tell you.”

I blinked, my mood souring. I took a deep breath and reached up to fiddle with the collar of his white dress shirt. “And the answer that would solidify my thoughts?” I whispered.

We stared into each other’s eyes as he replied. “You met him too early in life. You met him too early in life, and now all he can see is that 16 year old girl. Not to mention the 12 year age gap! I mean it would probably be nothing, if the both of you had met now, as you are 20 and he’s 32, but you met when you were 16 and 28. I—! Don’t get me wrong a lot of men would have gotten with you being 28 and you being 16. So, regretfully, I have to applaud the man.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s the truth, Ali. Men are—! Men aren’t the best. I’ve learned more than enough of the struggle women go through because of men from Angie, believe me!”

“Oh, I believe you!”

We chuckled before falling to a silence. 

Horace continued. “There’s also your personality!”

My jaw dropped and my face contorted. I smacked his chest as I gasped. “What’s wrong with my personality!”

He raised his arms and tried defending himself from my attacks. A big ol’ smile on his face. “Ali, you’re very affectionate! Do you know that? God, I’d have believed that Cassie would have fought with you if she didn’t know about Tommy. It’s honestly rather settling to know that you actually have your heart set on someone ‘cause you’d have fooled the rest of us!”

I pouted. Still fiddling with his collar, I asked in a childish voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you flirt with everyone in the group. You know that, right? You sit on Douglas’s lap. You sit on my lap! You sit on Angie’s! You kiss us on the cheek. Dougie kisses your cheek or temple. Then, there’s your unique fashion sense. I’m not judging your choice to display what God gave you. Angie would kill me if I did! But, you can even ask Douglas, we—! Well, I! Don’t regard you all that innocent, anymore. If you get what I mean, I—!”

I waved my hands as a way to stop him from tripping himself over his words even more. “I, I know what you’re trying to say. I get it all the time. Your point is?”

Horace took a deep breath before rubbing his forehead and letting his hand rest there. “Well, don’t you think that a person will just either get used to the affection or eventually grow annoyed by it?”

I’m regretting talking to him entirely.

“I don’t act like that with him, Horace. He’s still my boss, you know. I—! I could never!”

His eyes widened. “O-Oh! Then, disregard that last statement. Uh...”

I mean, but I have thought about that. I debated whether or not my compassion and love for the man was being taken for granted. Well, that he was manipulating me into like placating his feelings. I’m more used to that treatment coming from girls. You know, they act like they’re sad just so that I can comfort them— that sort of thing! I don’t deny that it’s crossed my mind.

Horace cleared his throat. “Well, then, perhaps he’s the sort of man that can’t handle you. You’re very independent and upbeat. I mean you can be serious when the moment calls for it, but you’re quick to giggle. Maybe he just wants a damsel in distress. Maybe he wants a more serious, proud woman. Proud being opposite to your “down to earthness.” Is what I’m trying to say.”

I snickered. “Uh… Right, okay? That was a whole lot in a small package. Um, right, okay then! Well, thank you for giving me your most honest answers, sir.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome, madam.”

I snickered away while cringing and then stuck my tongue out at him. Eventually, we got up from the floor and rejoined the group. We chatted away while sipping our bevvies, and nursed our cigarettes before finding ourselves seated on the couches. 

Tina and Cassie were sitting on the couch opposite to Dougie and I. I was sitting rather close to him with my legs draped over his thighs. His right hand rested on my thigh while I ran my fingers through the back of his hair. 

Ah! I see what Horace was talking about. Yeah, all those Tik toks ‘n shit are coming back to me. Maybe I should ask Cassie how she feels about my touchiness? Oh, I definitely should. Great! Fucking dammit! Why did my love language have to be physical touch? 

He was telling me about his week when Angie’s voice was growing increasingly more loud by the second. She was pacing back ‘n forth in front of Horace, who was sitting on the arm of the couch.

Angie groaned exaggeratedly before snapping her fingers and shouting, “Ali, Ali! What about your opinion, eh? How do you feel living in these times while looking the way you do? Acting the way you do?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced at both Cassie and Dougie. They both gave me shrugs. I sighed before pushing some of my hair away from my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a drink in her right hand and waving about her left, she said. “Well, I mean you don’t conform to beauty standards. Right? Your hair is still very long, you typically wear what you want to wear. You enhance your curves and you know, embrace the waves in your hair. I mean that’s almost the total opposite of the way women dress today.”

I get that I was out of tune with the modern style, but she was making it sound like I was trying to be some sort of trendsetter.

I giggled and waved a hand and dismissed her comment. “I don’t know what to say. I wear what I want to wear. I—!”

“Exactly! Exactly. You wear what you want to wear. And, and you scrap with men. You fight your own battles. I mean—!”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Angie, Angie, wait a minute. I—! Look, we live one life. I intend on living it how I want. That’s all.”

She nodded. “I know! Exactly and that’s what I love about you. You don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks. You live your life the way you want, and I don’t know... Well, like tell us—! No, tell me how you do all this without worrying about snagging a man.”

Ah! And the other shoe drops. 

I sighed and rubbed my left eye. “Ah, okay. There we go, something I can answer. First and foremost, I dress and act however I want regardless of how a man sees me. How he chooses to warp me in his head, in anyone one’s head, is their problem. I will talk, dress, act, laugh anyway I want because at the end of the day— I have to live with myself and love myself. That’s how I go about my business.”

She began clapping and nodding, her lips pursed. 

Oh god, she was tipsy.

Angie snapped her fingers. “Exactly. And! And the beauty standards men put on us and other women expect each other to uphold is ridiculous. Like how the hell is one figure more attractive than another. Women are—! Women, men, everybody should be appreciated. Why, Why do we have to favor one type more over the other? I-I mean, I understand preferences but to subject people to a set criteria when some of us aren’t even capable of accomplishing that standard. It’s—! It’s preposterous.”

Angie raised her free hand to her forehead and she scratched it. “Take Aliena and Cassie for example, they can’t become more flat-chested. They can’t make them smaller. Nor, nor can they help their curvy figures! Why should society tell them to, you know, bind their breasts or something. Or to hide their figures in loose fitted clothing! They’re beautiful! Beautiful!”

All of us shared a glance at one another before bursting with laughter. We laughed so much that I’m sure all of our stomachs ached in pain. 

Through her laughter, Cassied rasped. “Angie, Angie sit the fuck down ‘n take a breather, hon’! For the love of...”

I chimed in. “Yes, please sit down before you blow a casket ‘n like faint or some shit.”

Angie pouted through a smile and plopped down on the couch. “I’m just saying. I mean Aliena, you exercise, right? Like, you work out in a way that a man does. Not just take strolls or ride bikes.”

I wiped under my eyes before nodding ‘n sniffling. “Yeah, I do. I exercise for myself. I don’t do it to please society or any man. I do it for me.” I shrugged my shoulders and turned my attention back to Dougie’s hair.

Angie snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Thank you. I love you. Thank you. And that’s why I want to tear down Hollywood.”

“Ah—!” I snickered and shook my head before blowing her a kiss.

After that fiasco, things called down a bit ‘n I went back to talking to Dougie. He was tapping my thigh when he quickly picked up his head and said, “You know I finished developing the photos.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “The photos…? Oh, shit! The photos! How’d they come out?”

Some weeks ago, Dougie bought this camera and wanted to practice his photography skills. He loved the art, but it could never be his main job, for obvious reasons. His father was passing on the company to him, so we all know how that goes. Anyway, I made the suggestion that the gang could be like his practice models ‘n eventually I got everyone to agree.

It was fun, obviously! I helped position everyone and of course, I had to sneak in some 21st century gestures. I just hated that I wouldn’t be alive to see my grandbabies’ faces. I’ll break the timeline, just for this reason. To fuck with my descendents. 

During the day, we went to an empty grassland area and had like a cottagecore photoshoot. It was fucking fantastic! One thing from my bucket list I was lucky to complete. But at night, it was a more risque photoshoot. And yes, even Horace participated in it. I made him as did Angie.

Dougie smiled and nodded. “I think they came out to be pretty good. I’ll bring them next time. It just slipped my mind today.”

I psh-ed him and shoved his head away from me before throwing my head back in a cackle. We talked a bit more before I beckoned somewhere else. I eventually made it back to Cassie, and I was sitting on the couch while she was on the floor. I was messing around with her hair. Right now, I was making a bunch of braids. 

Cassie was eating some fruit while she was talking to Angie. “Okay, but like who was your first kiss?”

Angie hummed through hooded eyes with an arm hanging in the air. “Oh, it was Tina.”

I spluttered and began spazzing out. I scurried off the couch and started running around the room while shouting over and over again. “No way! No way! No fucking way!”

Cassie joined my freak out session by rolling around on the floor and slapping the couch behind her, where I was previously sitting. When I felt calm enough, I ran back to my spot.

I shouted. “No fucking way!”

Angie chortled. “What? Why is it such a big deal?”

“Uh...” Cassie and I just looked at each other. In an American accent, I said. “Well, I mean. I don’t wanna be a bitch, but like when I felt met y’all… You guys were kinda sus. Like Tina, full truth, I thought you had a humongous crush on Angie ‘n yeah so, um, yeah. Did y’all date or…?”

Angie’s eyes widened and she rose from Tina’s lap, who was stunned, by the way. Angie snatched a pillow from the couch and chucked it at me. 

“She’s. Just. Shy. And we were kids when we just did it! It was innocent.” Angie yelled. 

I cried out when the pillow hit me. Through my laughter, I replied. “I’m sorry!”

Angie huffed as she laid back down on Tina’s lap. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not the only one to think it. People just get the wrong idea. She’s just shy.” Angie reached up and caressed Tina’s face. “Oh, we’ve both kissed Horace, too.”

My jaw dropped and a hand flew over my mouth. I looked at Cassie and Dougie, who were just as shocked as me. I screamed into my hand and began running around the room again, only this time I wasn’t alone. Dougie was running in the opposite direction of me. 

He zipped over to Horace while I tackled Cassie on the couch. Well, I more like got her in a headlock ‘n swung her around a bit as I settled onto the couch. 

Tina groaned, averting her gaze from us before running a hand through her hair. She asked. “Well, who were your guys’s first kiss?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Ugh, I guess my first kiss was with my childhood best friend too. Name was Brooklyn.”

“Mine was with Mary, she was a classmate.” Cassie replied.

Angie tsked. “See a girl, right? Why are you harping on us for?”

Cassie and I just shrugged. It was like we had this silent agreement that we weren’t gonna bring up the fact that we kissed each other on the lips as a greeting and a farewell.

“Hey, do you guys think I would look hotter with blonde hair?” I asked.

They all began telling me what they thought. 

Later in the night, we just went wild ‘n I was happy for it. Michael and Arthur didn’t cross my mind once. We blasted our records, danced the night away while chatting, drinking, and smoking away.

I was overwhelmed with emotions at the end of the night because—… Because I never thought I would have a friend group like this, and now that I did— it was surreal. I genuinely felt that I wouldn’t be in the mental state I was in, if they weren’t in my life.

They made everything that much better. I was always happy with Tommy, but that feeling was contorting into something else now. You know? It was becoming increasingly more platonic, and as much as that should feel liberating— it frightened me. 

I have a million reasons why I held out for him for this long and why it frightens me so, and I’m not going to dwell on them. To be honest, I think the moment he did reciprocate my feelings and he told me, I probably would numb myself immediately. I would just be in such a state of shock that I’d deny his feelings ‘n just move the fuck on. 

‘I mean that’s what is expected of me, right?’ 

Since I am the way that I am. I can’t just blame it on social media’s influence. I mean when I imagined the scenario I end up cringing a ton, and I send myself into like a “tic fit.” It’s the best I can describe it. 

Anyhow, back to how the night went! We got super drunk, super high, and probably pissed off Cassie’s neighbors but we settled down at like three or four in the morning. The people living downstairs were most likely the most grateful since we were jumping around like crazy people. 

We, collectively, all crawled onto Cassie’s bed ‘n knocked out. I was probably the first to sleep. I’m not going to tell ya a blag. It was completely plausible. But, what I loved most about tonight— it was that I was surrounded by people who loved me. It was warm and I felt safe. Something I wasn’t even able to feel in my own home at times when I was back in my own universe. 

Cassie was the big spoon while I was the little, and Dougie was her big spoon. I made sure to avoid being in the middle anymore. I talked to Cassie and she was fine with my touching. She said I showed her the same amount of attention, and she knew I didn’t fancy him— so we were good.

However, I didn’t want to interfere with a perfectly good moment. So, I chose to be on the outside while Cassie was in the middle. Yeah, that didn’t stop her from cuddling me instead. I was too intoxicated and tired to tell her to cuddle Dougie instead.

When I woke up, I found it to be fairly early in the morning because the sky was grey. There’s a difference to the 6 am sky and the 8 am sky, okay! I didn’t get up right away. I wanted to savor the tranquility that surrounded me for a little while longer. But like all sweet things, they must come to an end.

My guess is that I was probably stirring around too much by accident ‘n woke up Cassie, who inadvertently awoke Dougie. I tried coaxing her back to sleep, but it was too late for the both of them. Begrudgingly, I inched my way off the bed and strolled over to the table.  

Dougie was right behind me. I could hear his loud yawn from behind me, and then his hands gently fell on top of my head. My head bobbled as he kissed the top of my head. 

“Mornin’, Ali.”

I smiled and while my head did a little dance, I replied. “Morning, Dougie.”

He pulled out a chair for me before going to sit on his own. While gripping the arms of the chair, I scooted closer to the table. I craned my head back to see Cassie on the phone, no doubt ordering food. 

We really didn’t begin talking till the food came. I think we were just still sleepy, but food and orange juice helped. Horace was the first to get up ‘n he attacked the bacon. Then, it was Tina and finally, Angie. Who was very grumpy, by the way. So not happy about being awake.

I don’t know how it happened, but eventually we broke out into a food fight. It was awesome.

“Oi! Fucking watch it!” I exclaimed as I narrowly dodged a ketchup covered egg. I knew it was covered in ketchup ‘cause I saw Tina drown them in it. I grabbed a syrup-soaked waffle and chucked it at Dougie.

It got him right on the side of his face. He exclaimed and his face contorted in disgust. My mouth immediately contorted into deep frown ‘n my eyebrows raised, and when his crazed eyes found mine— I gasped. My gasp was so deep like a man’s that I hurt my throat doing it. 

I held my hands up as I croaked. “Wait.” He inched closer to me. “Wait! Wait!” I turned my back and started running. Something you should know about me, I never liked being chased. It gave me another type of anxiety and happiness— it was so weird. 

Eventually, Dougie caught me and we started wrestling with each other. Through our grunts, I heard the phone ring and Cassie hopped across the room to get to it. She landed on the bed and crawled to the phone. While sitting on her knees, she answered the phone.

I turned my attention back to Dougie and tried crawling away from him as he attacked my sides. It wasn’t my tickle spot, but I laughed at the pain of his fingers digging into my sides, nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “I’m sorry! I give, now cut it out.” 

Dougie loosened his hold and sat up on his knees, flipping his bangs to one side as he did so. I didn’t hesitate to get up on my feet. 

“Never!” He shouted. “You got syrup on my face.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I playfully yelled as I charged at him ‘n I barely managed to get him into a headlock when Cassie shouted for me. She motioned the phone toward me, and my smile dropped as did my hold on Dougie.

I walked over to the phone and brought it to my ear. While taking some of the hair that fell into my mouth, I said. “Hello?”

“Aliena, love.” Polly sniffled before continuing, “Thank god you’re alright. Um, I need you to come home, darling.”

“Polly, you’re crying. What’s happened?” I’m only half-ashamed to admit that I was exaggerating my concern. Hard to actually experience when I already knew what was up.

“It’s Michael. He’s been arrested. You need to come home to the house in Small Heath. We’re gonna have a family meeting.”

“Is Tom there yet?”

Polly sniffled again before replying, “No, not yet. You still have time before it begins, so come quickly. Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hung up the phone and looked back at my mates. They were all looking at me concernedly. I waved my finger around before finding the words. “I, uh… I need to go. Cassie, can you tell Simmons—!”

She nodded. “Of course.” Cass instantly grabbed the phone and began calling him. 

I glanced at my mates one more time before walking over to the closet. I put on this off-white frock with some black heels. I didn’t fix my hair up or put on any makeup. I just packed up my things, threw on my coat, and hurried out the door. I bade everyone farewell before leaving.

I ran out of the car and into the house. I threw my backpack on the couch before shouting, “Polly, I’m here!”

Faintly, I could hear Polly gasp and then we met each other halfway in the kitchen. She pulled me into a hug and squeezed the breath right out of me. 

“Thank god!” She said. “Thank god you’re okay.” Polly parted from our hug ‘n began stroking my hair and face. 

Footsteps coming from my right caught my attention, and I hugged Finn, John, and Esme as they came up to me. All us exchanging words about how we were all glad that one another was okay. John caught me up to date as Polly was fawning over me. 

She couldn’t stop stroking my hair and kissing my temple. I didn’t mind it, but everything she did was exemplified since I wasn’t used to this sort of treatment from her. Well, I was ‘n it always happened in some sad event in our lives, and that’s probably what’s upsetting me the most. 

I managed to get her to sit down, and smoked a ciggie with her. Tom sure took his time coming home. It took him, perhaps, twenty to thirty minutes later before he strided through the kitchen and into the shop. 

I stubbed my ciggie out, just as Tom said. “John?”

“Coppers have lifted 10 of our men in Camden town, the rest of them on the run.” He replied.

Finn added. “Tom, they've taken Michael.” 

Polly rose from her seat and walked closer to the family and I followed suit, taking the opposite door to lean on. 

Tom waved Finn off saying, “Business first.”

“They took Michael— ”

“I said business first.”

“They picked him up—!”

“Polly, business first!”

‘Great! Went from having an awesome time last night to an anxiety ridden morning. I love my life. Wow, way to make it about myself. I’m amazing!’

Tom gave Pol one last look before asking John to continue. Polly looked vulnerable. She looked, sorry to say, pitiful. She was desperate to help Michael, but— obviously, Tom had an agenda he was intending to follow.

John continued. “They took all our whisky. So no doubt they'll be supping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden Club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons. The Black Country boys think it was Arthur who killed Billy because that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whisky boats.”

“I don't give a fuck about whisky. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen.” Polly said as she walked over to the table and began to lightly slam her hand down on it as she spoke, “I want my son out of prison now.”

Esme decided to speak up, at the wrong time. “Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs.”

“This meeting should just be family.” Polly insisted.

‘Ah—! Ma’am, the fuck does that make me? Oh, wait, family! You, idiot, you.’

“I can help.”

“-It's family only, she's not blood.”

“Let her speak.” Tom interjected, but Polly kept on going.

“Tommy! Or is this a business… How you forgotten family—!”

“ENOUGH!”

My hand flew to my mouth and I swear to God, my heart sank to my arse. ‘Holy fuck is the wrong, but holy hell is it erotic!’

I was given the side eye by multiple people in the room, and I quickly numbed my feelings. Faster than I ever had to before. I stood up straight and cleared my throat.

Tom looked back at Polly as he said. “Enough, Polly. Esme.”

“I spoke to Johnny Dogs. The Lees are kin.”

“The bloody Lees!” Polly exclaimed

“They can give us men.”

“We don't need more fucking men! It's men that have done the damage! It's… It is men fighting like cockerels that have put us here in the first place.”

Tommy said. “Esme, I'll take up their offer. We need men.”

There was this pregnant silence that stilled between all of us, and it made me bounce on my heels. 

Polly pointedly stared at Tommy, inching closer to him as she said. “If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family, for good.” She took a step back from Tom and waved her hands around her. “This life is bad.”

Polly walked over to Finn ‘n grabbed him by the arm. “This life is all bad.” She began dragging him away and made a beeline for me. Pol gripped my arm ‘n began pulling me away too.

“Ah!” I exclaimed as my feet skidded across the floor.

“Aunt Pol, what’re you doin’?” Finn cried out as we were both being tugged away.

“Shut up and walk.”

I managed to crane my head back for one last look at Tom before Pol had tugged Finn and I out of the house. Tommy didn’t meet my gaze. 

Polly ushered us in her car and drove us to the house in Sutton. She ordered us to stay in the house, but I knew where she was going. I saw her make a call, which went on for sometime, before she darted for the door. 

I think she was calling Ada.

I grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Polly, wait! Where are you going?”

She sighed before taking my face into her hands. “I’m going to go see if I can get my son out by myself. Thomas isn’t going to help, so I’m doing this on my own.” Polly stroked the side of my face as she looked into my eyes.

“Don’t go...” I whispered.

Pol sucked on her teeth before shaking her head. I gripped her wrists as they were still close to my face and said. “I can—! I can call someone. My mates can help. They’re Michael’s mates too, so I’m sure they won’t mind.”

She shook her head and gently tugged her hands away from my face. I let her wrists go without hesitation. With one hand on my shoulder, and the other waving around as she talked, she said. “No. No, I can’t have your friends knowing about this side of the family. They’re different from us ‘n they need to have the best image of you they can. I will deal with this on my own. I will deal with this on my own as I’ve always done.” 

Polly quickly kissed my forehead and left just as I was about to continue to beg her not to. I ran after her, but my reaction time was a little too late since she was already in the car. I shouted after her, but she took off.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t—! I couldn’t interfere when she didn’t want me to, so I just walked back into the house ‘n focused on taking care of Finn. We spent our time talking and playing card games. I finished making our lunch when Ada showed up. I knew she’d show up. ‘Cause of the episode, of course. 

She brought Karl, which made everything better ‘n brighter for a while.

I  spent time playing with the baby and catching up with Ada. Eventually, I left Ada alone with Finn since I’m sure she’d wanted to talk to him alone. I had the maid make dinner ‘n eventually sent Finn’s lanky butt up to a room. Had the maid prepare it for him beforehand.  Ada and I talked into the night till Karl grew tired. 

She took another room and retired for the night. On the other hand, I only went up stairs to change into something more comfortable, then I went back down to wait for Polly to come back home. I basically wore a nightgown and put my hair into a ponytail. 

I knew Polly was going to want to take a bath ‘n I wanted to be the one to help her. It was only right since she’d helped me when I needed it. 

I hated myself. I hated myself. I could’ve tried harder. I could’ve used better words to persuade her. I could’ve—!

Polly stumbled in at around eleven o’clock at night. I sprang up from the couch ‘n she didn’t even make a fuss about the fact I was up. Pol stumbled into my arms with the stench of alcohol on her breath. 

“Ali my love!” She slurred as she leaned all her body weight on me.

I muffled a groan as I held her up. 

Polly picked herself up a bit and slapped her hands on my face. I flinched at the force she put behind it. 

“Beautiful...” She whispered. “Absolutely beautiful...” Her thumbs roughly wiped the space under my eyes. Bringing them up and down and stretched back. 

“Polly,” I whispered. “What’s happened?”

Her head jerked back and she stumbled away from me. Averting my gaze, she replied. “Is done. Michael with—! Michael will be out within, at, in the morning.”

I smiled and clapped my hands in front of my mouth. “That’s great news, Polly!”

She smiled and nodded, drunkenly. Like she was nodding like a bobble head, someone who wasn’t in control of their motor functions. Polly’s gaze drifted to the side and she pointed to the tub. “Were you gonna take a bath?”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I thought about it, but then I was waiting for you to come home. I had the fire lit. Why? Did you want to take a bath?”

Polly stumbled forward and gripped my arms, steadying herself before she nodded. “Yes. Yeah. Ali, darling, can you be so kind… And help me?”

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowing in concern. I ran to the kitchen and filled up the bucket for hot water. This house actually had a water heater ‘n that meant hot water from the tap. I had to make a few trips back ‘n forth but it was quicker than it would’ve been at the other house. 

“Alright, all done.” I turned back to Polly, who was sitting on the couch as she gazed into the fire. Her head shot up when I spoke. I turned around as a way to give her the privacy she needed to undress. 

I could sense her walking toward the tub and I turned my body more to the left while closing my eyes. Slowly, I got down to my knees ‘n sat on them. I wanted to give her the respect she deserved. The water sloshed as she dipped her body in the tub.

“Can you pass me the soap and sponge, love?” Polly asked me.

My eyes fluttered open instantly and I crawled to where I had placed the body soap and sponge earlier. I reached up for them and then crawled back over to her before giving them to her.

I sort of just sat there as she bathed herself. Her movements were sluggish and looked to be done with great difficulty. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to pry. I wanted her to open up to me and just cry about it. I didn’t want her to keep it in. However, I knew that was wrong, so I just picked at the carpet below me. 

Eventually, I couldn’t stand doing nothing and I asked her if I could shampoo her hair. She gave me a sloth-like smile and gave me permission. I reached up for the shampoo, took off my sheer robe, and shuffled on my knees around the tub. 

Polly leaned forward to give me some room. I scooped up some of the water from the tub using the pitcher and poured it along her hairline, slowly making my way to the back of her scalp. 

Shampooing someone else’s hair was always something comforting to me. I did Cassie’s hair all the time as she did mine. It was a type of intimacy that was more innocent than others types. 

I began humming something from Billie Holiday. I didn’t know the song by heart, but I knew some of the words ‘n rhythm enough. I was rinsing her hair when Polly’s shoulders began to shake. Muffled sobs escaped her nose as she shakily took deep breaths. 

I didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t know if it was appropriate to touch her and hug her, so I asked. I asked if it was alright if I hugged her. Like a child, she nodded through her sobs. 

I hugged Polly from behind. She was wet, I knew that. I was painfully aware of the new sensation of my dress sticking to my body and her cold hair against my cheek. Everything in my being was screaming and begging me to launch myself backward, away from her— but my heart was pleading for me to do the opposite. 

My heart wanted to absorb her pain, and it was my heart that won. I choked back my tears. I didn’t have the right to shed them. I could’ve saved her from this pain. I could’ve prevented this. But, ultimately when I blinked, they slipped down my cheeks. 

I didn’t pry, I stayed true to my word. We composed ourselves simultaneously and silently. 

“Love?” 

I wiped my nose on my arm before answering, “Yes?”

“Can you get me a cigarette? They’re in my purse.”

I nodded as I muttered. “Of course.” I rose to my feet and walked over to her purse, which was on the sofa. I put one in my mouth and lit it. With it still hanging off my lips, I took a quick puff as I grabbed the ashtray. I placed it on the stool that had the soaps on top, and then passed Polly her ciggie.

I walked back around to the chair that was behind her ‘n admired the fire crackling. Ada came in not too long after. I left… 

Truthfully, I didn’t know why I left. 

I trudged up the stairs all the way to my room. I closed the door behind me and slid down it.

I felt like a complete piece of shit and hollow and empty. My face scrunched up in a sob, but no tears came out. There was this increasingly more painful headache forcing me to acknowledge it, and with it came anger and annoyance. I wanted to punch the walls. I wanted to throw stuff around. I wanted to kill Campbell for what he’s done to this family.

I wanted his blood. I wanted to slit his throat. I wanted to bite a chunk of his neck out. I wanted…

I heaved a deep breath and found it still difficult to breathe. I crawled forward on all fours with one hand supporting my weight while the other clutched my throat. I took deep breaths till finally I couldn’t take it anymore. 

I had to release these emotions inside of me. The need to punish myself became overwhelming, and my eyes flickered to the suitcase that laid under my bed. 

I shook my head. ‘I couldn’t afford any marks’ I thought. 

With my other job, my body is a tool ‘n any harm to it hinders my ability to get it done. 

So, I yanked the straps of my gown down and let it fall under my waist. Ferociously, I began to claw away at my neck, arms, and stomach. The burn. The burn was what I needed. 

And when I stopped, the pain took over but as much as it meant everything— it was also nothing. 

Slowly, I brought the straps of my gown back up to my shoulders, rose to my feet, and sauntered over to my bed. I climbed in it and just laid there while staring at the lamp that was always on at my desk. I fell asleep, eventually…

The next morning, Polly came into my room ‘n asked if I wanted to come with her to go ‘n get Michael. I felt like she wanted me to go with her, so I said I’d go. While dressing up, I was glad to see that none of the scratches I’d made scarred up. 

I made sure to dress warmly since we would be going out so early in the morning and then we headed off to pick him up. We didn’t make any conversation during the drive or as we waited for him to come out. 

But nothing— and I mean nothing, could tear my eyes away from the scarf around her neck. 

I chose to lean against the wall as we waited while Polly was pacing back ‘n forth on the pavement. When Michael walked out, the first thing I noticed was the ugly bruise on his right cheek. Then, I noticed the little cuts all around his face. The need to comfort him was strong, but he walked straight toward his mother while smoking a ciggie.

“You need cream on them cuts or they'll go bad.” Polly said to ‘em.

Michael didn’t reply. He took a drag before saying, “The screws told me why I've been freed. They told me what you did.”

Polly looked away from Michael. Her gaze found mine, and she hurriedly looked away from me too. Polly stared straight on, instead. 

“They thought it was funny.” He continued. Michael took another puff before he said. “Maybe it is.”

The urge to degrade and make someone cry had never been activated so fast in me before now. I glared at Michael as he walked away. My blood boiled with each step he took.

With my foot, I launched myself away from the wall and walked to Polly’s side. I put a hand on her shoulder and whispered. “C’mon. Let’s go. He probably needs time is all.”

Polly said nothing, but allowed me to lead her over to the car.

Michael eventually had to come home, and he had the audacity to knock at my door. Of course, I let him in but only to give him a piece of my mind. 

“Do you even know what she did?” He shouted.

“She got you out, didn’t she? Why should you care how?” I shouted back.

“She fucked Campbell to get me out. She prostituted herself!”

I pretended to process it and be shocked before I continued. “And? So fucking what? Who are you to say that it was funny, huh? Fucking bastard! Fucking ungrateful prick!” 

I wanted to put my hands on him so badly, but I resorted to punching my palms repeatedly instead. As well as folding in on myself.

I whipped my hair back and ran a hand through my hair. 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t see anything wrong with that? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Of course there’s something wrong with that! Campbell abused his position and abused his powers. He raped your mother!”

His face fell.

I scoffed. “Did you actually think I would side with you? Oh, fuck you, Michael. I would’ve done the same for me own son and so much more. She did that out of desperation ‘n fear ‘n pure maternal love! And—! And, you threw it back ‘n her face! I mean look at you, Michael. How much more of that could you have withstood?”

“All of it! I would have taken every beating… Every fucking—!” Michael choked up and rose his fists over his eyes. 

I averted my gaze. My tongue prodded the inside of my cheek as I violently shook my right leg. I tsked before rushing toward Michael and pulled him into a hug. Weakly, he hugged me back. 

Muffled, I said. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you for the things you said, but me and you are not alright right now. And I need you to respect the fact I need some time to process and get over what you said to her. It was very insensitive and I don’t play when it comes to situations like that. I don’t care about the excuse. You should have comforted her or each other when you were given the chance.” I parted from the hug and turned around. 

I didn’t turn back around till I heard my door shut from behind me.

About a week and a half has passed since Michael’s release and we’re still not on good terms. He hasn’t apologized to Polly for what he said, so obviously I wasn’t going to just sweep that shit under the rug. Little shit would have no idea how much restraint it took to not slap him across the face!

Of course I encourage him to “get it over with” and “clear the air.” But the stubborn twat was like his mum, and he refused to do so. It was like that conversation we had went in one ear and out the other. So, I’ve just steered clear of ‘em. Pissed me off just looking at him.

Anyway, John and I went to visit Arthur in jail. He was pretty rough, but when was Arthur not? We just visited him to see him. Tommy didn’t have a plan drawn up yet. Other than that, I’ve been busy with work. Legit and side hustle alike. 

Since the coppers fucked with the inventory, Tommy needed my help with the numbers and had me running around more often. At the same time, Dom gave me hit orders every other day. 

Some of the hit orders were during the day as well! I had to run off to get that job done, then hurry back to Small Heath. I���m just lucky nobody gets on my arse. Tommy could, no doubt there, but he was busy himself and I got the job done anyway. 

I knew he had some Peaky men or juniors watching me, for my “protection.” I knew they told him what I was doing, where I was going, but they never found out what I did. I had to let Dom know what was going on at home, and he helped me get away from them. 

Was it suspicious? Short answer, yes. 

Not like I could stop the side, though. The second season was coming to an end soon and what happens on Derby Day determines if I’m staying in this family or not. I, myself, don’t even know what to expect. 

I mean, it’s obvious he’s going to sleep with Grace and knock her up. What the fuck did I even want to happen? Did I want him to just confess to me and we get together instead? Well, of course, I want that to happen! But it’s not. And I can’t even see Tommy doing something as cringy as that. Yes, cringy.

The idea of him just springing on a confession on me still made me cringe up. My feelings have never been recuperated, so if they were to finally be mutual— there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have the romantic reaction I would be hoping for. Sad truth, but what could I do? Not like I had control over what my crushes felt. 

So, basically, if Grace is pregnant— I’ll quietly go away. I haven’t brought it up to Cassie yet, but I’m planning on slumming it with her. Just for a while, I know I have enough money to buy a house of my own. I would probably get Dom to do it for me, though, since I had no idea how to do it. 

If Tom tried to find me, then I’d just hide at Dom’s place. I’m sure he’d let me. On the topic of Tom, though— I missed him. Like talking to him, bugging him, and especially seeing his face. I was being deprived of my daily dose of serotonin. It was a crime!

Despite all that, today was a night of relaxation. I’d planned to go out with my mates, but since it’d be too dangerous to go South— they had to come to me. Ridiculous, I know but Tom insisted on the idea the last time I saw him. Even though I’d been going all around the fucking country for a week and a half.

We were in the snug at the Garrison. Smoking a few cigs while sipping on our bevvies. It was a girls’ night despite the fact that Finn was here. Let him have two pints, and that was it. He was still working on his first like a good lad. 

Angie spat. “I mean who the fuck does that bitch think she is? Just because her mum is a famous pianist doesn’t mean she is too! Dumb dora doesn’t know about key or pitch to save her life.”

I raised my eyebrows and slurped my bevvy. I smacked my mouth before asking. “Hey, Ange. How are you and Horace?”

Her movements faltered and a smile crept up on her face. I gasped and my hand shot over my mouth.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, are you two finally dating? Are youse dating?” My hand flew back to Cassie’s arm and I gripped it while shaking her. She was just as excited as I was.

Angie couldn’t meet my gaze to save her life. “I-! We… Yeah, we’re dating. I, I said yes.”

All of us girls squealed and congratulated her. Internally, I was congratulating my boy, Horace. My mans was pinning after Angie since childhood and he finally got the girl. 

Even material to make a story out of, oop! Mayhaps.

She told us how it happened. They had been in a fight since her father secretly set her up on a blind date and he’d caught them as she was out. Horace didn’t blow up on them at the spot, but Angie felt compelled to follow him out the restaurant they were dining in. On the street, he aggressively professed his love and told her he couldn’t bear to beat around the bush anymore. He gave her an ultimatum, and she was thrown off by how assertive he was being. It made her heart flutter, and she confessed she felt the same. 

Another round of squeals at the table, please! Poor Finn, he had to suffer through us. His own fault for volunteering to, like, chaperone me.

The topic changed to the ball Cassie had for her 21st birthday. This happened like a couple of Fridays ago since her birthday was on the tenth of February. It was really extravagant and the theme was like a royal ball. So, we got to dress up in these really amazing ball gowns. I wore this beautiful green ball gown that was most likely akin to 16th century fashion, as one man told me. 

I wouldn’t know the exact period my dress resembled since that wasn’t my area of expertise. Glad the man knew, though!

Cassie tapped me on my arm, her face contorted in confusion. “Ali… What did we do for your birthday?”

I blinked before smiling. “Oh, we didn’t do anything.”

Her face immediately contorted in horror and she looked at Angie and Tina, which of course made me do the same. They had the same expression on their faces.

Tina raised a finger and began wagging it as she said. “Wait a minute… Did we even do something for your birthday last year?”

“Uh...no.” My eyes kept flickering between the three of them and I watched as the horror deepened in their faces.

They began showering me in apologies, and while it did comfort me— it annoyed me at the same time. ‘Like it was too late for apologies since the days already passed. So, like why sweat it now?’

The girls surrounded Ali and showered her in apologies. Finn watched from the sidelines. He saw the flicker of discomfort on Ali’s face before she began to smile. 

He knew that his family had forgotten about her past two birthdays as well, and he wanted to get something for her. But the last time he did that— he got in trouble for it. So, the best he did was wish her happy birthday. 

“Okay! Okay! We obviously just have to throw the biggest party ever to make up for them both.” Cassie said, her lips pursing as she talked. Tina and Angie nodded, but Ali sighed. 

She shook her head while clutching her forehead. “No. No, it’s alright really. My birthday passed. I don’t need anything.”

The girls dismissed her wishes, which annoyed the crap out of Ali and Finn. 

Ali rubbed her eyes roughly before waving her hands up. “Okay, okay, fine! We can have a little something. It has to be little. I’m not allowed South, so—!”

Cassie cut her off. “That’s completely alright. We can do it here like last time. You know?” She looked around the room. Tina and Angie nodded in agreement. 

Ali thought about it and just succumbed to her mates’ wishes. Ali took a breath and thought about it in a different perspective. Instead of holding onto the fact her birthdays were overlooked, she was just appreciative that they, at least, wanted to celebrate it now.

They girls talked it out and they decided they would reconvene next Friday at the Garrison. Finn was welcomed to join, and the lad was not going to miss it for anything in the world because of what they were planning.

These girls were planning to get “fucked up.” More specifically, Aliena “fucked up.” He had some idea of what that meant, and he knew he wasn’t going to like it. 

Eventually, Finn ended up asking Aliena what that meant, and she told him that her mates basically wanted to get her really drunk. He knew he wouldn’t like it. 

That week Finn, Aliena, and the girls were all just really preparing for the “doomsday.” Aliena was pumped up to have fun with her girls in her honor, and couldn’t decide what she to wear. The girls were trying to find gifts for her birthdays, you know, since they missed two of ‘em. 

While Finn, he was going through it. He was debating so hard whether or not to tell Tom. He didn’t know if he should. He usually would have, but with things being so tense lately— he really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news or add fuel to the fire. So, he decided against it and was just glad to be invited. He also looked for a gift.

The day of the party both Finn and Aliena visited Tommy’s office. Aliena went to give him his dinner at around 5:30. She had yet to get dressed for the night, but her hair was beautifully done in waves from the braids she made the night before. She had half of it up since if it was all down— her hair would be too poofy.

Aliena knocked on Tom’s door before entering. Tom was finishing up some last minute paperwork. He didn’t tell Aliena, but he was going to Ada’s house to meet up with Grace. She’d called some weeks ago, and Tom was finally available enough to meet her. 

She rested the basket on his desk and moved a piece of her hair away from her face. “Here you go, Tommy. Have a nice night.” 

Tom picked up his head and his eyebrows wanted to furrow as he took in her appearance. Her hair was done nicely and she was wearing a nice outfit. 

Ali had on a white tank top with a sheer white long-sleeved blouse over it and wore a ribbed off-white skirt that hugged her curves. She didn’t think anything of it, but Tom sure did. 

He wondered if she got dressed up for another boy of hers, but then he realized he had no business admiring her or getting jealous. After all, he’d be meeting up with Grace in almost a half hour. 

Tom looked into Aliena’s eyes ‘n noticed she was wearing a bit of makeup and holding a vanilla folder in her hand as well. “Night, Ali.” He replied.

Ali smiled at him, gave him a nod, and knocked on his desk before spinning around on her heels. Ali was almost out the door when her hand knocked into one of the chairs and the contents of the vanilla folder went flying. Ali cursed under her breath and bent down to collect the papers from the ground.

Tom’s eyes never left her arse. Tom recognized that Aliena was blessed with well-endowed features— ample breasts and a large behind as well as thighs. He admired the way her breasts hung from her body as she had to reposition herself to get a paper that had flown under the chair. He admired the arch of her back. 

Tom realized he was acting like a pervert and resituatied himself. He silently cleared his throat and sat up straight while tugging on his pants. Aliena tapped the folder on the ground to straighten its contents before rising from her knees. 

She smiled at him, sheepishly, as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Sorry ‘bout that, Tommy. Good night.”

Tom repeated the phrase under his breath and Aliena made it out the door without a mishap. 

Finn came in not five minutes later, passing Aliena on the way to the office. He walked straight into Tom’s office. 

Tom’s head shot up and he didn’t hesitate to begin speaking, “Finn, I want you to look after Aliena tonight. I’m going over to Ada’s and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Tom had risen from his seat as he spoke. Putting on his coat and cap. 

Tom walked over to Finn and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, got it.”

Tom nodded and began walking ahead of his little brother, but then turned around all of a sudden. Tom pointed toward his desk ‘n said. “Oh and eat that for me, yeah? Aliena made it so… It should be good.”

Finn chuckled and took his brother up on the offer. He’d been starving.

Aliena rushed home and practically inhaled her meal. She didn’t want to eat, but since was planning to drink till her liver bursted— she didn’t want to knock out on the third drink. After eating, she hauled the tub to her room and took a bath.

Aliena decided tonight was the night. 

She wasn’t going to wait for Tommy anymore. 

She’s been building up to it and she didn’t care anymore. Virginity was just some societal construct anyhow. Plus, she wouldn’t tell anyone but she owned a dildo in her other universe ‘n yeah… 

Aliena just assumed this body, that was very fucking different, had it’s hymen, so…

She freshened up and shaved her vagina. Not for the poor guy she was going to use, but for herself. Aliena was big on, “you like me for me or you can fuck off.”

Don’t worry Ali had her hair all tied up away from the water and when she was done— all she had to do was dry her body off.

Ali kept her towel on as she did her makeup. She kept it light and noir like she did for the Garrison’s reopening. After makeup, she slid on her dress. The best Ali could describe it was a loose body con dress that had ruffles that reminded her of a curtain. It was sky blue ‘n fit with the times. 

Ali took down her hair once she was done putting on her dress. She tried her best to keep her waves, but they had ultimately lost most of their volume throughout the day. Aliena tried to not let it bother her. She put on her heels, grabbed a matching clutch, and her white fur coat. 

Aliena walked over to Finn’s room ‘n knocked on his door, asking if he was ready. He didn’t answer from his room, but from downstairs. Aliena hurried down the flight of stairs, joined their arms once she was down, and then they were on their way to the Garrison. 

Isaiah met them on the way, which was a pleasant surprise. Finn had invited him along ‘n of course Aliena wouldn’t mind. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, and she figured it was due to the business. 

Aliena was escorted with two men around her arms to the Garrison and she chatted with them the whole way. She was all smiles and it warmed both the men’s hearts. More so Finn than Isaiah. 

When they got to the pub, they instantly walked to the snug. They quickly seated themselves down ‘n got comfy. Isaiah ordered their bevvies from the window and they were served not too long after. 

The gang couldn’t have gotten there not twenty minutes later. Their hands were occupied with gifts ‘n the boys were carrying the cake. Aliena couldn’t feel more loved ‘n appreciated. She greeted her mates with kisses and hugs ‘n thanked them for the party. 

Aliena ended up thanking Douglas and Horace for showing up and for their gifts separately since she wasn’t expecting them. First manner of business was the birthday cake. Horace revealed this magnificent simple cake that had twenty candles around it.  

Ali couldn’t stop covering her face as she smiled. She tried reeling in her emotions, but she never could act “right” when people sang her happy birthday. For her birthday wish, she wished that she’d continue on working on her happiness. 

Before having a piece of cake, Aliena opened her presents. Cassie gave her another set of expensive jewelry that was to die for! Ali loved it! Douglas gave Aliena a new pair of shoes, a clutch, and a purse. While it wasn’t to die for, Aliena appreciated it since after all he didn’t even ask her what she wanted. It was ballsy to get a gift for Ali without talking to her first since her face usually gave her true thoughts away.

She’s worked on that since she was young, but sometimes it will show. Hasn’t happened yet, but doesn’t mean it won’t.

Angie gave Aliena more designer clothing while Horace bought her a typewriter. She absolutely gushed over their gifts, especially the typewriter. Tina’s present was Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, Little Women, Romeo and Juliet, and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Aliena loved the fact that Tina gave her books. Truth be told, she hasn’t really read a book unless they were someone else’s. 

Isaiah didn’t have a gift, so we can skip over him. Finn, on the hand, did. Ali was a little apprehensive about it since last time he got her a gift, he would’ve caught a charge if he was anyone else. It was a big box, too. Aliena shook the lid off the box to find a box of items packed inside. There were about five different shades of lipstick, two bottles of perfume, and a whole lot of makeup. 

Ali couldn’t help but be in awe at the gift. She hugged Finn and thanked him for something so wonderful ‘n thoughtful. Finn was able to let go of the breath he was holding and felt extremely happy that she loved her gift. Swear, the boy had a smile for a majority of the night.

The minute Aliena was done opening her gifts, the real party began. Finn watched as Aliena and her mates took shot after shot after shot. He participated a bit himself, but out of conditioning from Aliena— he took his time. Isaiah was faring no better. He’d received the same order as Finn. His sole duty tonight was to protect Aliena ‘n the way she was drinking— he had a bad feeling something was gonna happen.

Eventually they made their way out of the snug ‘n began dancing more freely. Isaiah expertly manipulated Ali into only dancing with their mates. The minute she tried catching the eye of literally anyone else, he’d step in. 

Out in the city, he had no problem with who she danced with or who she made out with. In Small Heath, his and every other person’s eyes were at stake. But more importantly, his eyes were at stake!

Truthfully, Aliena wasn’t actually drunk— she was buzzed! But, she wasn’t drunk. She was mimicking Cassie’s behavior, who was on a completely different level drunkenness than her. She did it in a sense of solidarity and recklessness. She felt that since they were celebrating her birthday, since it was her night— she should be able to act freely. Especially when she was trapped in Birmingham per Tommy’s orders. 

Aliena was getting bored with just dancing and began to sing. She sang ‘Ain't No Other Man’ by Christina Aguliera. At first, it was just the mates who were aware that she was singing, but then other patrons heard her voice. Aliena was lifted in the air by a particularly strong ‘n tall patron and he set her down on the bar top. 

Aliena “under the influence” began to sing as clearly as she could and belt as loud as she could, as much in tune as she could manage. 

Not like they would know if she butchered the song or not.

Finn, who watched all of this go down, had enough. In his opinion, Aliena had gotten out of control ‘n it was out of his hands. So, he decided to get the big guns involved.

His senses were filled with her. Her perfume, the texture of her dress, the taste of her lips and the feeling of pressing them against his own. 

So, what had changed for him?

Tom wondered why her kiss didn’t set him aflame like it did months ago. 

“Tommy. Tommy, do you have someone?” She asked him. 

Tom kissed Grace again. 

“It's too late, Tommy.”

“It's 11:00, Grace.”

“I mean, it's too late. If you'd come with me to New York...”

“I had things to do.” He kissed her again, searching for that feeling. That feeling of completion and—! And wholeness.

“You mean the coin landed the wrong way?”

“It couldn’t have worked. That was the question.” Their lips met once more ‘n fiercer this time ‘round.

Grace parted from the kiss and breathily asked. “Tommy… Tommy, do you have someone?”

‘Yes?’ He thought as the memory of Aliena looking back at him at the park flashed in his mind. Tom took a deep breath. “I have a racehorse. She’s gonna win the Derby.” He said. Tom joined their lips again and this time— they didn’t part after a few seconds.

Tom was desperately seeking that feeling of passion, but he figured he was gettin’ into his own head by rushing it. So, he took it slow. Grace slipped down the sleeves of her dress, and it hardly did anything for him.

It aroused him, of course, but—! It wasn’t the same. It was akin to the times he’s laid with a prostitute. 

‘You’re getting in your head, Tom. The feeling will come back. Take your time.’ He told himself. He led her backward toward the couch, his lips never parting from hers. 

The more time he spent kissing her, the more that pit in his stomach grew. 

That feeling wasn’t coming back. 

Tom trailed down to her neck, and he paid attention to Grace there before going back to her lips.

‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! Give it some fuckin’ time, man!’

Then by the grace of God, the phone started going off. Tom parted from the kiss ‘n Grace’s hands flew to his face.

“Let it ring.” She rasped while trying to pull his face back to hers.

Tom never averted his gaze from the phone ‘n it didn’t stop ringing either. Annoyed, he got up from the couch and walked over to the telephone.

Tom had barely gotten the address out when Finn’s voice cut through the phone. “Tom, Tommy, are you there?”

“Finn, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” Panic overwhelmed his being and Tom began buttoning up his shirt.

The pub could be heard through the phone and Tom swore he could hear Aliena, but he thought he was just imagining it. 

Finn cleared his throat. “Uh, Tom, it’s Ali. She’s kinda going outta control right now.”

“You are there when I'm a mess

Talk me down from every ledge

Give me strength, boy, you're the best!

You're the only one who's ever passed every test!” 

Aliena’s belting could be heard from over the phone ‘n Tom sighed, exhaustedly. 

Finn continued. “She’s dancing and singing on top of the bar at the Garrison. I just—! I don’t know. I thought you should know. I don’t know what to do! Do I just let ‘er or—?”

Tom exhaled deeply as he rubbed his forehead. “Finn, all right, calm down. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Get her off the fucking bar top ‘n make sure she doesn’t do anything else.” He hung up the phone, turned around, and faced Grace.

She looked confused with her eyebrows drawn together and Tom was half surprised to see that her dress was still down. 

“Tommy,” She began. “What’s happened?”

Tom blinked before replying, “I, uh, I have to head back to Birmingham.”

“What?” She asked softly as she rose to her feet and slipped her sleeves back over her shoulders. 

Tom began putting his coat on as he said. “I can drive you, if you’d like, or you can call a Taxi.”

Grace scoffed while shaking her head. “You're serious, Tom?”

Tom looked at her like she stated the obvious and gave her a curt nod. “Yeah.”

Grace’s jaw dropped a little as did her head. She picked up her head, steeled her gaze, and stood up straighter. “I can find my own way back.”

He nodded again before motioning her to follow him out the door. 

The night didn’t go as he’d planned. But he had more important things to worry about. 

‘Fucking Aliena!’

Aliena was just glad she was able to finish her song before Finn and Isaiah pried her off the bar top. She had her little moment ‘n that’s all that mattered to her. ‘Cause she managed to get the attention of most of the lads in the pub.

Some were just staring at her from afar while others actually walked up to her. But they only managed to get a few words in before they were run off by Isaiah. At first it was cute. Yes, Aliena thought it was cute that Isaiah was scaring off the blokes that approached her— but then it got annoying. 

Why? Because he was ruining her fucking plan to lose her viriginity tonight!

“I’ma tell ya right now, mate. You either piss off or you’re losing your eyes, which one are you gonna pick?” Isaiah threatened the man in front of him.

The man scoffed and was about to say something when Isaiah reached up for his peaky cap.

“One...” Isaiah said ‘n that was all it took for the bloke to run off. 

  Aliena scoffed as she tried to look over Isaiah’s shoulder only to catch a glimpse of the guy running off. Aliena groaned and roughly shoved Isaiah in the chest. “The fuck are you doing, Saiah!” She shouted.

Isaiah raised his hands in surrender. “Look I’m sorry, Ali. All right, I’m sorry.”                              

Aliena’s face contorted in confusion and her head shook. “No, what the fuck is going on! You’ve never done this before, so what the ‘ell is up?”

Isaiah sighed and looked all around the room. He debated tellin’ her the truth or not, and he decided it would be easier if she just knew what was up. “Look, Ali… I can’t let any bloke in here have a go at you, all right?”

Her face didn’t change. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? The fuck you mean ‘you can’t let me’? Who’s...” Her voice trailed off as did her gaze.

‘No way!’ She thought. ‘There’s just no fucking way!’

Aliena huffed. “Di-Did Tommy—! Does Thomas have something to do with this?”

Isaiah nodded. He hesitantly said. “Tom… He ‘n the family ordered a long time ago that no one in Birmingham is allowed to have a go at ya. They’re not even allowed to accept a confession from you. And any Peaky Blinder who tries to disobey or not try ‘n help ya if you’re in danger, or knew about it ‘n let it happen— gets their eyes and tongues cut.”

Aliena was taken back by the rule. Some part of her was in awe that Tommy cared that much for her while the other was annoyed that he was. 

Why the fuck did he have to go ‘n do that? Why the fuck was he preventing her from going out with guys when he had no intention of going out with her himself? It was fucking ridiculous!

Her nose wrinkled in her anger before she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Aliena took a deep breath before clapping her hands in front of her. “Okay, Saiah! You have two options. One, you either keep on carrying out this ridiculous order Tom have you ‘n you’ll have to face my wrath. Or two, you call it a night and get out of my fucking way. So, what is it gonna be one or two?”

Isaiah didn’t hesitate. “Two.”

Ali raised her hand for a high-five, which Saiah reciprocated. “Good man.” Aliena said before walking off, on the prowl. 

It took sometime before the men in the pub realized Isaiah was no longer lurking around Aliena and began approaching her again. Aliena was picky when choosing the man she wanted to lose her virginity to. After all, what’s the point of doing it if she wasn’t going to enjoy it? She wanted a man she could look at and be aroused from. 

She was lucky enough to find one sitting at the bar when she walked over to get another drink. His name was Robert, last name unknown since she didn’t care for it. They made small talk, but Aliena wasn’t looking to get to know him. She just wanted to make sure she could get wet. 

And she found that she could, as she began imagining all the positions he could put her in. 

Tommy kept intruding on her imagination— hijacking her scenarios, but she’d just close her eyes ‘n take a moment. The next time she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Aliena brought her bevvy up to her mouth and took a sip before shoving Robert’s shoulder for something  he said. 

Unbeknownst to her, Tom had walked into the pub deadset on finding her. And that didn’t take very long. Tom witnessed Aliena’s little interaction firsthand. She was sitting on top of the bar top while flirting with some random fucking bloke. He didn’t know what infuriated him more.  

The fact that someone dared to go against his orders, or that she was flirting with someone in front of his face. 

Tom’s jaw dropped a little and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. He closed his mouth and nodded before he made a beeline for Aliena. As he grew closer, she’d finally noticed him. A smile on her face was quickly wiped off as Tom walked right up to her, tugged her off the top ‘n threw her over his shoulder.

Ali gasped and exclaimed. “What—!”

Tom hiked her further up his shoulder before spinning around and making his way toward the door. “Shut up, Ali.”

“--the fuck are you doing!”

Tom had no intention of letting her down. He feared she’d just talk her way out of it, or try to fucking run away. Tom was gonna give her the lecture of a lifetime whether she liked it or not. He wasn’t going to let her get the chance to go back to her mates and cause more embarrassment for herself. 

Aliena was shouting at Tom to let her down. She was pounding on his shoulder as an extra measure, but it wasn’t like she was doin’ it hard either. The pounding resembled more like knocking or somethin’.

Eventually, Aliena huffed and just let herself be carried to wherever he was taking her. From the streets he was walking, Ali soon realized they were going to his flat. She tsked and tried to support her head up. 

When they reached his front door, Tom hiked her up on his shoulder again before reaching for his keys. 

Aliena rolled her eyes as she muttered. “I can walk on my own two feet, you know.”

Tom ignored her as he struggled to get his door unlocked and open. It was difficult with a body over his shoulders, but he did it. The minute he walked through the door— he let Ali down. 

As she regained her footing, Tom locked the door behind him. Ali stabilized herself rather quickly and threw her head back with an overexaggerated groan as she stomped away from Tom ‘n toward the stairs.

Tom turned back ‘round and shouted. “Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Ali rolled her eyes and faced him. A hip dropped as she said. “To bed.”

He shook his head. “No.” Tom walked right up to her face and repeated. “No. We’re going to talk about the little show you put on at the pub. Huh?”

Ali averted her gaze from him and began shaking her leg.

Tom grabbed her chin and made her face him. “Huh? What the fuck was that t’night?”

Aliena couldn’t tell ya a blag. What he did went straight to her cunt and the fact she was looking to fuck tonight— did not help her case at all.

Tom released her chin and waited for Aliena to answer.

She sighed and waved her left arm out before letting it drop to her side. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Tom.”

He scoffed.

“I DON’T... know what you’re talking about ‘cause all I was doing was having some fun with my mates. That’s all.” 

Tom shook his head. “No, that’s not all. You got on that bar top and sang and danced. You got drunk ‘n started making a fool of yourself.”

Aliena tsked, rolling her eyes, and throwing her head back. “I wasn’t fucking drunk.”

“Yeah fucking right!”

Aliena looked at him in disbelief. “You know what! You weren’t even fucking there, so I don’t even know how the fuck you knew about what I was doing, by the way! Don’t tell me you had another Peaky Blinder looking after me. ‘Cause that’d mean you sicked three people on me tonight, and I’d want to know the fucking reason for that too. ”

“Finn phoned me, worried about ya. And I did not sick three people on you tonight. I only told Finn to look after you.”

Aliena sighed deeply at the news, her eyes rolling again. A hand came up to her forehead and she rubbed it. “Finn...” She whispered. “Of fucking course, that goddamn kid.” Aliena didn’t even look at Tom again. Instead, she waved him off as she turned around while walking toward the staircase. 

“And where do you think you’re going, Ali? We’re not done here!” He shouted as he watched her climb the stairs. His gaze naturally falling on her arse. 

She craned her head back a little as she replied. “Yes, we fucking are. Both of our emotions are high right now. There’ll be no moving forward in this conversation. So good night, Tom.” 

Tom shook his head, his pointer finger running over his bottom lip. Angrily, he ripped off his coat, and threw both it and his cap on his sofa. He marched up the stairs as he shouted for Aliena.

Dumbly, Ali was deciding which room she wanted to bunk in for the night, and it allowed Tom just enough time to catch up with her. He grabbed her by the crook of her arm and pulled her into his room. He threw her into it, to which she cried out. 

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” She yelled. 

None of this was helping, by the way. This roughness he was handling her with. Yeah, she liked this! So, he wasn’t winning in the slightest.

His eyes were blown wide, and his hands were on his hips. With the wave of his finger, he asked. “Yeah ‘n who the fuck was that who you were talkin’ too? Eh!”

Aliena squeezed her hands into fists before letting them relax as she stifled her groan. “God, Tommy! Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Who was he, Aliena! I want a fucking name!”

“I DON’T KNOW! Okay? He’s name was Robert and that’s all I know.” She yelled louder than Tom, which was making his blood boil more. Aliena clapped her hands and with finger guns, she began. “You know fucking what? Answer my fucking question, Tom. Why the fuck do you care? Huh?”

Aliena inched closer to him, and making Tom stand up straighter, slightly.

“Why the fuck did you have your men scare away other men away from me? Explain it to me.”

Tom chuckled, humorlessly. “For your own protection, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “No. I would’ve believed you if you only ordered them to maim anyone who tried assaulting me. That would make it believable. But to put a city wide order that I was not to be fucking approached in the slightest! That even if I went up to them, they better run the other fucking direction unless they wanted to lose their eyes! No… Fucking no. So, tell me, Thomas. What the fuck is up?” 

Aliena was standing directly under Tom. She could hear his heavy breathing with clarity. He didn’t respond. She scoffed and walked away from him further into the room. 

By the grace of “intoxication,” Aliena felt like she was finally bold enough. She was going to blame it on the alcohol. If what she was about to do, backfired on her— she’d deny, deny, deny.

Tom watched as Ali walked away from him before facing him. The air about her was different. She didn’t look angry and annoyed anymore; she looked like she was on a mission. It was attractive. Seductive. Arousing.

Aliena’s fingertips trailed up her arm, an eyebrow raised as she said. “You wanna know why I was even talking to Robert, Thomas.” Her fingertips grazed up her left shoulder and across her collarbone. “It’s because I intended on fucking him.” Her voice trailed off at the end.

Tom’s head snapped up and he looked at her straight in the eyes, flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. 

‘She—! She was gonna what?’

Aliena giggled, humorlessly, as she took in Tommy’s expression. Her fingertips stopped her dance as she did so. Ali composed herself rather quickly ‘n she continued. “I was going to fuck him...” She shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips as she said. “To finally get over you.”

Aliena cocked her head to the side and waited for his reaction. Tom shuffled his stance and tucked his hands into his pockets. He could feel his eyes glaze over and lust creep on him as Aliena teasingly had a single fingernail under the strap of her dress.

Aliena looked away before looking back at him. “So, there it is, Tommy. I said it. Now, you have two options. You either walk out that door, or...” Aliena attempted to look sexual as she slipped both of the straps of her dress down her shoulders ‘n let it fall to the ground. 

Tom gulped at the sight of her. Her bare breasts. The sight of her in nothing but her panties.

“You fuck me.” She finished, fixing her posture. 

Truthfully, she was trembling in anxiety. She hoped to God she wasn’t making a fool of herself.

Tom had to internally fight his demons and he needed to do it quickly, out of respect for her. It was a whole lot of, “should he” or “should he not.” But then, Aliena just had to trail her fingertip down her neck again with this far-off gaze and he knew his choice.

Tom rushed toward Aliena and captured her lips, hungrily. Aliena couldn’t help but gasp happily. Her mouth opening wide. Tom didn’t waste the opportunity to shove his tongue inside. He made her walk backward toward the wall. The pace caused Ali to be shoved into the wall. The pain that erupted in her back made her moan into his mouth. 

Tom’s hands trailed up from her waist all the way to her breasts and he squeezed them eagerly. Almost wantonly, Ali gasped with a smile again as she arched her back into Tom’s hands.

This… This is what Tom was talking about. This passion, this feeling of completion! This was it!

Tom parted from her lips which made her pant for air. He pressed kisses on the side of her mouth, her cheek, before peppering her neck with them. Aliena’s fingers found Tommy’s hair and she found herself pressing him closer against her neck. 

‘So, she feels it here...’ He thought.

Tom increased his antics. Nipping, sucking, and kissing her neck all over. While Aliena wasn’t moaning, she was panting ‘n gasping as if she couldn’t breath. Hitching as if she were in pain. 

Tom left her neck and lowered himself down to her breasts. He rolled her left nipple in his mouth while still kneading her right breast. When he decided to tug on her nipple with his teeth, he tugged on her right nipple with his fingers. Aliena gasped and yanked Tom’s hair as she arched her back into him further.

“Tommy...” She rasped. “I—! Please.” 

Mentally, it hurt her to plead like this. It sent her cheeks aflame, and she would’ve hid her face in embarrassment if she wasn’t feeling so much pleasure from running her fingers through his hair.

As Tom moved to her right tit, he shushed her and whispered against her skin. “Patience, love.”

Aliena’s breath hitched once more as Tom nibbled on her nipple, her thighs rubbed together. It did nothing, but allow her to get some pent up energy out of her. 

Tom let go of her right nipple with one last tug before he rose up a little to begin marking up the space above her breasts. Aliena giggled at him.

“So, are you a tits man, then, Tommy?” She asked breathily, a giggle at the end of her sentence.

Tom stopped sucking on a particular spot on her chest as he began to smile. He picked his head up and pecked her lips repeatedly. “Yours. I’ve. Been. Wanting to. Do this. To yours.”

Aliena’s hands had slid down to his face and she stroked his cheek lovingly. She parted from their pecks and whispered. “Who am I to deny you, then?”

Tom stared into her eyes before hooking his hands in the crooks of her knees and carrying her. Ali yelped and wrapped her arms around his neck before going into a giggling fit. Tom walked over to his bed and plopped her down on it. 

Aliena bounced as a result. Tom hurriedly back to yank his clothes off and cursed himself for wearing so many accessories. While Tom was working on taking off his shirt sleeve garters, Ali had scooted herself down the bed and worked on getting his belt off.

The whole situation was laughable, so Tom began to laugh— which made Aliena laugh. Once Tom got the bloody things off, Aliena had already thrown aside his belt and unzipped his pants. Tom bent down and tried to kiss Aliena. 

She realized what he was trying to do ‘n met him halfway by standing on her knees. Grateful that she allowed him to bend less, he continued working on unfastening the buttons on his vest ‘n shirt while slipping off his shoes. He took off his shoes, stepped out of his pants, and kicked them both away while throwing his vest and button up off his shoulders. 

The pair broke their kiss to let Tommy yank off his under shirt. Tom found her lips once more as he slowly climbed on top of her and hovered above her on his bed. After a minute or two more of kissing, he parted and asked against her lips. “Are you sure you want this, Aliena? We can stop right now.”

Ali stared into Tommy’s eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She nodded her head. “I want you, Tommy. It’s always been you.”

They stared into each other’s eyes a bit longer before Tom’s head ducked down and began trailing deep kisses all the way down to her groin where the hem of her panties lied. He placed kisses along the hem as he hooked his fingers into the side of the band, and slowly slid them down. 

Aliena’s eyes were closed shut and she was fisting the blankets of his bed. She flinched at every kiss he placed closer and closer to her cunt. 

Tom licked a long stripe upward toward Ali’s clit as he slid her panties down her legs entirely. Ali whimpered as her hips bucked. Tom couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. Aliena was biting her bottom lip so harshly that she was afraid it would split. 

Tom spread her pussy and started off slow before working his way toward violently flicking her clit with his tongue and sucking on it. Aliena still didn’t allow her moans to escape her, instead, only letting out whimpers, gasps, and pants. 

Aliena’s thighs clamped around Tom’s ears, but that didn’t stop him. Hell, it couldn’t even stop him from hearing her little mewls. 

Ali felt that familiar build up growing in the pit of her stomach, and her hand flew to Tom’s hair. “Tommy, I’m close!” She said. “Stop, please. I don’t wanna... without ya...”

Tom didn’t stop, in fact, he worked her faster. “Go on.” He rasped. “Come.”

Aliena’s hands flew to her face as her face contorted in pure pleasure. Tom didn’t like that. She was blocking the view. Ali threw her head back and finally let out an audible moan. Her hips wildly bucked against Tom’s mouth and chin, and he let her ride out her climax. 

He let go of her with a pop and a hiss. Tom took a deep breath, trying to catch it before sliding a finger along her opening. Aliena’s hands had fallen to the sides of her head. An uncontrollable smile on her face. She outstretched her arms and whispered, lovingly. “Tommy...”

Tom felt his heart swell and without stopping his teasing— he leaned toward her and kissed her as she wanted.

Aliena didn’t mind the taste of herself on his lips, she was used to it. Having been a chronic masturbator. Ali tugged on Tom’s bottom lip and when she finally let go, she coquettishly whispered. “Fuck me, Tommy, please. I’m ready.”

Tom’s eyes looked over her face and he chuckled. He pecked her lips before replying, “No, it’s your first time, Ali. I won’t be rough with you. This time.”

Ali’s mouth stretched upward into a smile and she bit her lip. “Promise?”

As Tom finally slipped a finger inside her— making her gasp, he rubbed his nose against hers, replying, “I promise.”

Tom slowly pumped his finger in and out of Ali, and truthfully, the girl felt nothing. She’s teased her hole with her fingers loads of times. So, it was just a foreign feeling. But for the sake of seemingly “innocent,” she began panting a little.

Tom added a second finger and then a third— and that’s when she felt something. Her pants turned real and she wondered if he had to add the third finger so that she could accommodate to his size. She still hadn’t seen him. 

Meanwhile, Tom was handling his delayed satisfaction just fine. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, so he was lucky enough to just be able to focus on making this the best experience for Aliena as possible. When he felt that her pussy was sucking his fingers in, instead of trying to push them out— he removed them. 

Aliena moaned and looked up at Tom. Tom misinterpreted her gaze as her being scared and was quick to reassure her that everything would be alright. In reality, Aliena was just startled that her pleasure had been taken away from her.

She never thought she’d get off on fingers. She thought it was impossible for her. 

‘You really do need someone else’s fingers.’ She thought.

Tom pulled down his boxers and kicked them away. He was about to gather her wetness when Ali took his hand and pulled it toward her mouth. She gathered the saliva in her mouth and let it fall down onto his hand. His cock throbbed in his hand at the action. 

He couldn’t believe that she’d be this tempting. 

Tom lathered his cock in Ali’s spit and pumped his cock a few times, hissing at the pleasure he gave himself before lining up to Aliena’s entrance. Tommy hovered above her and took his free hand, and interlocked it with hers. 

“You ready?” He asked once more.

Aliena nodded. “Yes, yes, please...”

Tom kissed Ali as he slowly entered her. Ailena moaned from the sensation. Tommy began littering the side of her mouth and cheek with kisses. They both groaned when he was fully sheathed inside her. Her walls fluttered around his cock, squeezing him tightly. 

Made him grunt from the sensation. 

Aliena wasn’t in pain, but it has certainly been awhile since a cock has been inside her. Not to mention, she was still pretty sure this body was a virgin. There was no pain, but there was a lot of pressure. She couldn’t tell if he was big or not.

Aliena just felt very “full” and “satisfied.”

“Move, Tommy.” She rasped.

Tom breathily chuckled. “I can’t. You haven’t gotten used to it, yet.”

Aliena gripped his chin and made him face her. “Tommy, move slowly. I want to feel you.”

How the fuck could he deny that?

Slowly, Tom began moving his hips. He’d pull out just enough so his tip won’t fall out and then slide all the way back in. Ali whimpered at the feeling, but after enough times— she found herself wanted more. So, she vocalized it.

“Faster, Tommy.” 

Tom complied to her wishes and began thrusting faster. He found himself admiring this whole situation. Intoxicated on the feeling he’d been missing from… Yeah.  It was Ali. He’d fallen in love with Ali. 

Tom was taking in every reaction she had. With her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts bouncing softly with each thrust, and her face contorted in pleasure. She couldn’t hide since their fingers were interlocked. 

Tom’s breath began to waiver as pants and grunts escaped his lips. He picked up the pace to which Ali couldn’t hold back her moans anymore. This only encouraged Tom to go even faster. 

“Fuck, Tommy! Yes!”

Ali was unsure of what she was feeling. She couldn’t tell if she was climbing toward her big O, or if she was getting off on pleasing him. She actually never orgasmed when using her dildo, but this was different. Sex with Tommy was different, of course it was, and that’s what threw her off. 

It wasn’t till Ali began bucking her hips upward did she realize she was really feeling it. Ali admired Tom’s blissed out face. She was doing this to him, and it absolutely gave her an ego boost. 

They were meeting each other’s thrust so roughly that all you could hear was skin slapping against skin along with the sloppy wet sound coming from Aliena’s pussy. It fueled them both with more lust for one another. 

Aliena felt that pit in her stomach again and she cried out as did Tom since her pussy tightened around his cock. He was so close and her tightening didn’t help at all. 

“Tommy, I’m clo—!”

Tom slammed his lips on hers before reaching down with one hand and began rubbing her clit. Aliena’s hips stuttered, her legs trembled, and her grip on Tommy’s hand turned iron. Tom pounded into her cunt, overwhelmed with pleasure. Aliena’s squeal as she came was muffled by Tom’s kiss. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her back arched into his chest. 

Tom wasn’t too far behind. He parted from the kiss and looked up at the ceiling as he came. Strained pants escaped him as he rode out their highs. Tom hiked Aliena’s legs up and got incredibly deeper which made Aliena giggle and sigh.  

Ali was surprised at how fucking nice it felt to be came inside of, but she loved every minute of it. Ali was the one to capture Tom’s lips this time and when she parted, she asked.

“You down for a round two?”

Tommy chuckled as he rested his forehead against her own. “Why the fuck not!”

Aliena gasped as he flipped them over with her now on top. Aliena laughed breathily and steadied herself by placing both of her hands on Tom’s chest. Tom was taken back at how sexy she was above him.

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[munsonboy]

Do you have any headcanons abt a tiny begging Loki to go outside and explore and Loki keeps saying “no you’re too small something could happen.” So they never go outside anymore and stay with Loki until one day the tiny is really down and depressed and Loki finally allows them to go outside with him and the whole time he’s so worried something will happen to them (like he can’t even see them in the grass when he lets them walk on their own so he’s esp nervous then) but the tiny is just so happy to be outside and feel the sun on their face!

I know it’s kinda specific but I really enjoy reading this type of stuff

The amount of fluff that this concept has-...🥺🥺

Also, instead of head canons, I wrote a long story!😆Enjoy!😁❤️

______________________________________________

~Outside These Walls~

“Loki please! I don’t understand what the big deal is!”, you exclaimed as you sat cupped in the hands of the God of Mischief himself, Loki.

“My little dove, you know why I can’t let you leave the safety of my room”, said Loki. He saw that you were about to argue back with him, so he gently placed his fingertip over your mouth and quickly said, “The outside world is cruel. I am merely protecting you from it.” You pushed his finger off of your face, earning a chuckle out of Loki. He set you down on his shoulder, opening a book and reading aloud to you. He hoped it would distract your mind away from wanting to leave the safety that the indoors had to offer.

You sighed. ‘I’m never going to get through to him’, you thought as you tucked your knees close to your chest.

Ever since you were caught by Loki about 1 month ago, he has slowly been shying away from the idea of you going outside. He even didn’t like you climbing down the bookshelves that covered the walls in his room or his nightstand anymore!

Unbeknownst to Loki, however, you used to live outside a while before you made your way into the Avengers Tower! Climbing trees, sheltering underneath the petals of flowers so that you wouldn’t get hit by a raindrop as water poured from the sky, using sticks as a defense mechanism to protect yourself—-if only he knew the predicaments you’ve gotten yourself into in Central Park. You felt as if your independence was being eaten up slowly and you had no idea what to do about it. You felt powerless.

———— 4 days later ————

Loki had made his point clear by ending any conversation that you tried starting with him where you mentioned going outside. He was not about to make the biggest mistake of his life. How could he let someone as small as you wander out into the wilderness? That’s a death wish at best, not an enjoyable, well spent afternoon.

At the moment, Loki was sitting at his desk going through a few mission files the Avengers had planned for him. He would rather be doing anything else than sitting at this run down desk looking at what was going to ruin his schedule in the next couple of weeks.

Loki had tried to get you to help him, but, you kindly declined and took a seat up against the floor-to-ceiling window in the room. This hurt Loki’s feelings immensely. You had never been one to not want to hang out with Loki. In fact, he would consider you the most clingiest person he had ever met, especially after the first time he had caught you roaming around his room. You always wanted him around.

As Loki tried to focus on the files in front of him, he couldn’t help but get distracted and glance over at your spot on the floor. Ever since you had asked Loki to take you outside a few days ago and he had refused to take you outdoors, you seemed...off.

He had offered his hand for you to climb on last night so that he could read to you, but instead of the happy, little mortal he’s grown attached to, he saw this new personality that overtook your joy——a more depressed attitude that Loki had never seen come out of you before.

You normally would bounce up and down with joy whenever he wanted to pick you up, but lately you’ve been acting like a completely new person. Your usual mood that would always brighten up Loki’s miserable one was fading slightly, and Loki did not like it at all. He knew why you were acting this way, but he denied the thought and just came to terms with himself that you weren’t feeling well.

You were looking out the window, staring intently at what stood on the other side of the glass—Central Park. Oh how you wish you could just be outside again.

“Small one? Can you please step away from the window? I can’t bear to see you so close to the outdoors. You’re only separated from it by a 2 inch thick piece of glass”, stated Loki.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“I can’t even look out of a window now?”, you asked. You expected him to answer your question right away, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t take this no longer. You stood up and marched your way over to his bed. After having some trouble getting to the top, you finally made it. You walked over towards the other side of the mattress, eyes locked on the desk beside it where Loki sat hunched over.

“Loki, are you seriously not gonna let me even look outside? You know I can’t stay inside for the rest of my life, right?”, you questioned.

“Well of course you can. You can stay inside where you’re safe with me”, he said like it was a fact. Were you really going to be stuck inside forever?

“W-Why won’t you let me go outside?”, you asked.

You were on the verge of breaking down into tears. You absolutely love Loki to death, You admire his mischievous ways, as well as the softer side you somehow manage to bring out of him, but with his recent possessiveness that he’s been showing towards you, you realized how worrisome it’s been getting.

Loki stayed silent, focusing on the files in front of him and biting his lip in order to prevent himself from responding. Y/n couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I need to go outside at some point in my life! Where do you think I used to live before I met you?”, she exclaimed.

“Child, you are to stay here, in my room, with me where you are safe. You will not utter a single word about the outdoors, understand?!”, yelled Loki.

Loki visibly saw you flinch and instantly felt guilty. Instead of fearing him, though, you decided to fight back.

“You were never this overprotective before. D-Do you not see my as your friend? I am just another mortal that you want to have full control over? Why do you keep me here locked up in your room like I’m some sort of pet?!”, she yelled.

“Because I can’t lose you!”, exclaimed Loki. He put his hands on top of his head and got up from his seat. He began to pace around the room. Irritation and frustration filling his mind with each step he took. He couldn’t believe that you thought of yourself as some caged up animal. You were his equal, his friend, family even! He never meant for you to feel that way.

“Forgive me, I-...I-I don’t know why-..I just-...”, Loki had trouble thinking about what he should say to you after his outburst. He had never yelled at you like that before, and right now, he felt awful.

You sensed the guilt that he was feeling because he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you.

“Loki—-please, calm down. Let’s just talk things through like we always do. Okay?”, asked Y/n calmly.

You had never witnessed Loki in a panicking state. You wished that you were his size so you could wrap your arms around him in a hug.

Loki’s pacing had slowed down. He came to a halt in the middle of the room.

“Loki?”

He turned his head towards you, causing you to gasp. His face was wet with tears. You gasped.

“P-Please don’t cry! Come here, Loki, please..”, you said. Seeing Loki cry started to get you emotional.

Loki walked over towards you and bent down in front of where you stood on his bed. He held his head up with his left hand, while the other rested on the mattress.

He looked down at you as you moved your way closer to him. The tears had come to stop, but you could see them forming in his eyes, ready to overflow and fall down his pale cheeks again.

Without thinking, you went over to his hand and hugged his finger tightly. Loki softly chuckled. He adores how you both have such a tight-knit friendship. He didn’t want anything to come in between that. Humans that are his size stay far away from him, yet, here you were, a small mortal that barely just reached the height of his thumb, comforting him.

He decided to share something with you—-something that he had never opened up about in front of another being before.

“The last time I was extremely close with someone, something horrible happened to them. That person was my mother-..”, Loki stopped dead in his sentence.

You looked up at Loki with astonishment written all over your face. Loki had talked about his mother a few times, but he never showed much emotion whenever he spoke about her.

“I um—-she and I were inseparable. Nothing ever stood between us and the love we had for each other. But-..”, Loki took a moment and exhaled deeply before continuing. “But I was the reason for her death. I had caused it. And ever since you and I had our first encounter, I—-I guess my protective side came out more stronger than I had anticipated it to.”

You had no idea what to say. Loki had never opened up so much to you and this honestly caught you off guard. Normally, you would be the one to cry on Loki’s shoulder, but now the tables have turned. You could see the tears rolling down his face, some even hitting the desk in front of you.

Loki needed someone to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Whenever you were in this sort of state, Loki would just hold you close, whispering sweet nothings to you, and it always helped. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You knew exactly what to do now.

You walked around Loki’s hand and headed straight for his arm. You managed to get a grip on his leather armor that he wore and clambered your way to top of his arm. You glanced up at Loki.

He was staring at you now with tears glistening his eyes. They were red and looked swollen now, breaking your heart in two.

“L-Loki it’s okay! I-..”

Out of nowhere, you were gently scooped up by Loki’s hand and raised up. You closed your eyes, nervous if you had done something wrong. Suddenly, you were pressed against something firm and warm, but at the same time...soft. You cracked open your eyes and saw that Loki was pressing you against his cheek, his teary eyes closed.

This was new for you. You had never been this up close to Loki’s face. It was massive! You didn’t waste another second and quickly extended your arms out, trying your best to hug Loki back. Since you were pressed close to his cheek, you felt the muscles in Loki’s face move upwards. He was smiling from ear to ear.

As Loki began to break the makeshift hug, he began to speak.

“I cannot be the cause of you getting hurt—or worse. It will never happen under my watch. I shall make sure of it.”

He held you up to his eye level and gently ruffled your hair. He thought about if the next sentence he was about to say was a good idea or not. He sighed.

“I will take you outside, my dear”, said Loki, nervousness evident in his voice.

Your eyes widened. “R-Really?!”, you exclaimed. Loki simply nodded his head, a laugh escaping from him.

“Yes, but I will be keeping a close eye on you little one, alright?”, asked Loki.

You excitedly nodded your head yes and grabbed a hold of his finger to give him another hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”, you exclaimed.

To you, Loki looked happy, but deep down, he was panicking—-a lot.

————— A few minutes later —————

Loki was a nervous wreck as he walked through Central Park. He had safely tucked you away in his pocket as he strode along the pathway, trying to find a spot that was vacant and far away from the humans that were already there.

“Loki, when can I come out?”, you said as you poked your head out of his pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of the outdoors——happiness and excitement filled you up.

“Very soon, my little dove. But for now-...”, Loki used his finger to gently push you back down into the safety of his pocket, and couldn’t help but smirk at how adorable your face looked when he did so. “...you must stay hidden. I do not want a single soul, besides myself, to see you.”

After what seemed like forever, Loki finally stumbled upon the perfect spot—-a tree with a bed of flowers planted in the grass beside it.

Loki walked up to the tree and sat down, resting his back up against the rough bark of the trunk. He sighed, knowing that you would be exposed to things ten times your size. Suddenly, the sound of your voice floated up towards Loki’s ears.

“Loki? I-Is the coast clear?”, you nervously asked. Loki was the only giant you had ever interacted with before. You hated that Loki knew how nervous you would get when other giants were around. To this day, Loki still feels bad about the time he attempted to introduce you to Thor. Tears fell down your cheeks, you clung to his shirt, and, as embarrassing as it sounds, you sobbed when Loki suggested that Thor should hold you.

After that incident with Thor, Loki made it his goal to keep you out of sight from the others that lived in the Avengers Tower. If the Avengers had ever found you and caused you to cry, he knows for a fact that he would go ballistic. No one makes his little friend cry.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. There is not one soul around us. I have made sure of it”, said Loki as he tenderly pinched your waist and hoisted you up and out of his pocket. He held you in his palm and allowed you to take in your surroundings for a moment.

“Loki..just look at it out here! It’s amazing!”, you said excitedly. The memories of the days you spent fending for yourself out here in the park all came flooding back to you.

“Can you put me down now Loki?, you said as you turned around to look at him. You jumped up and down in his hand as he held you. You could barely contain the excitement that you were feeling.

Loki gave you an uneasy look. Was this really a good idea? Had he thought this through?

When he saw the smile plastered on your face, however, he couldn’t burst your bubble and say no. You had been cooped up in the Tower now for how long. It was about time you got to experience nature again.

“Just be careful”, said Loki.

You nodded your head. “I will!”

A choppy sigh escaped his lips. “Promise?”, he asked as he brushed his finger tip over your tiny arm. He was scared to let you go.

You looked at him and smiled. “I promise, Loki. I’ll be okay.”

He paused for a moment. “Alright...I’ll take your word for it.” Loki lowered you down to the ground below.

You practically jumped off of his palm when it got close enough to the ground. You started to run around in the grass, laughing away. It was just about your height!

As Loki sat there against the tree, he took notice of how tense he became once you weren’t in his grip anymore. He thought he might’ve become paralyzed at just seeing how the grass reached your waist.

‘Calm down, she’s fine. She’s having fun and that is all that matters’, Loki thought to himself.

He watched you as you exhausted yourself. There were leaves and sticks all around, but what really caught your eye were the flowers that were next to the tree. Some of the flowers had fallen off of their stems. You, of course, made an appoint to go up to all of the flowers on the ground just to admire each one.

This is when you got an idea. You ran up to one of the fallen flowers—-a puffy-like golden one. A tiny part of the stem was sticking out from underneath it. ‘Perfect! I’ll be able to drag it over to Loki!’, you thought.

Even though you were having the time of your life, you did still feel bad about how this made Loki feel. He looked like he was about to start crying again when he put you down in the grass! You had decided to bring a flower over to him.

You grabbed a hold of the flower’s small stem and started pulling it over to where Loki was sitting. ‘This’ll cheer him up’, you thought.

Loki’s eyes never left you. He was highly confused as to why you were dragging a flower around, however, he didn’t question it and let you have your fun. But he noticed that you were bringing it over to him. ‘What is this tiny mortal up to?’ he questioned to himself.

“Hey Loki! Can you lay your hand down next to me so I could climb on it? I have a surprise for you!”, you said happily.

This caused Loki to smirk. “A surprise you say? I wonder what it could be”, he said as he chuckled. Loki did as you asked and offered you his palm.

You clambered onto his hand and pulled the flower up into the center of his palm.

Loki raised you up in front of his face and stared at you with curiosity.

“Surprise!”, you exclaimed with joy, throwing your arms in the air. Loki laughed as he looked at how out of breath you looked.

“You got this for me, Y/n?”, Loki asked. You nodded excitedly. “Thank you my little dove. I will cherish this with all my heart.”

You giggled at how formal Loki was being.

“I-I know we just got here not too long ago, but..can we head back to the tower now? I really want to listen to you read that book we started”, you said shyly. You hoped that he wouldn’t be upset with you since it was you who wanted to come to the park in the first place.

“Of course we can, small one”, Loki said. He gently brought you closer towards his chest and gently tilted his hand, causing you to slide into the empty pocket.

“Lets go home, Loki”, you said, snuggling deeper into the fabric all around you. As much as you loved being outside, you missed the quietness of Loki’s room.

Loki stood up to his towering height and began the journey back to the Tower. He could simply just teleport back to his room, but he wanted to admire the flower you had given him a little while longer. How would he have anytime to do that if he teleported? Walking would give him more time to appreciate the flower you gave him without the Avengers questioning where he had gotten it from.

He slowly stretched out the opening of his pocket and peaked down at you. He heard how your breathing had become steady and his ears picked up on the light snores coming from your sleeping form. You had fallen asleep in a matter of seconds.

He smiled as he closed the opening of the pocket to let you rest. Loki held the flower close to his chest as he walked home with you safely tucked away.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all”, Loki said quietly.

————————————————————————-

@rose7420 I am so sorry it took me so long to write this!🥺💗

I hope you liked it! ❤️❤️

[ditch-witches]

asa butterfield x reader

request: wasn’t requested, but we wrote this in march and decided to post. we’re opening our inbox to other actors and characters, so feel free to send us a request :)

warnings: mentions of sex (slight), crude language, a family gathering

word count: ~2000

Your grandmother threw open her front door, hair in curlers to match her fuzzy pink slippers. Her face brightened at the sight of you, yet once her eyes fell to Asa it was like you were last year's ham. She nearly hooted in excitement before throwing her arms around him and dragging him inside, Asa’s face furrowing as he looked back at you. You smirked slightly, hanging your jacket on the already full coat tree by the door and kicking off your shoes before meandering through her gigantic house in search of your boyfriend. There were various cousins sprawled out around her living room and hanging out of the archway to the kitchen while watching whatever sport was on TV. 

You furrowed your brows at the group and half of them pointed down the hallway where a round of hollering and an old crackly radio was sounding off. You nodded and moved in the direction they sent you, turning a few corners before going through the sliding glass door in the back, spotting Asa being shown off to several of your uncles from different generations and your older cousins by your small grandmother. You sighed, coming out from behind them and capturing the attention of the group who greeted you with smiles and a few pinches on the arm. The stereotypical conversation questions were thrown around briefly: How is school? How’s the job? Are you hungry? 

Some of the guys were talking to Asa and shaking his hand a ridiculous amount until you finally had enough. “Oma, maybe you should go get ready?” You suggested, finally taking hold of Asa’s arm to pull him from her grasp. She inhaled sharply as if forgetting she was walking around in a housecoat while her guests continued to fill her house. You were sure Asa would already be overwhelmed, him being whisked off was not what you had expected, but he remained smiling, talking to whoever started conversations with him. You couldn’t really believe it but Asa was prospering. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were sat beside each other at a long table of most of your cousins, separate from the massive group of adults, passing food amongst yourself and talking over the polka music that seemed to always be playing from the radio in the living room. You leaned over to Asa as he passed you a basket of rolls. “Are you all right?” You whispered, passing the food again. 

He smiled at you slightly, his icy blue eyes seemingly lighting up even more. “Never better. Relax, okay?” He mumbled, sending you a wink. You hadn’t realized how tensed up you were as you dropped your shoulders at his words. If you weren’t surrounded by family members, you would have kissed him. The meal went on without ripples, listening to how people were doing in school and sitting through several of the members of the family closer to your age tell embarrassing stories about yourself to Asa like it had happened last week, not when you were three and still wearing Garanimals. 

“You’re Asa, right?” One of your middle school aged cousins asked from across the table. She put her chin in her hand, her makeup more intricate than you ever could master. He shook his head hesitantly. “You’re probably so good you don’t use protection. Am I right?” Her almost seductive glance and question made you choke on your water and Asa’s mouth dropped open a bit as the man beside her cackled heavily. 

“Oh, my God,” you breathed. “You can’t say that,” you hissed and she shrugged. 

Her eyes trailed him from across the table. “I don’t hear a ‘no’.” 

You groaned, telling Asa to ignore her through gritted teeth. “You should always use protection,” he answered instead, attempting to hold back his own laugh as you kicked him under the table, sending the man next to her into even greater fits of laughter. 

“Are you staying at oma’s tonight?” Another asked, thankfully one that hadn’t heard the previous topic. 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating if it was too late to get a hotel. “No, I haven’t drawn a card yet…” You mumbled, trying not to alert Asa beside you. 

Your actions were for nothing as he piped up. “What is drawing a card?” 

At his question, several of the cousins attempted to answer at once, urging you to let him be the one to draw this time and you shook your head. “My grandmother has a deck of cards that have locations written on them and whenever there’s a family gathering, you draw a card to figure out where you’re staying. It’s because my dad’s generation all fought over who was staying with Uncle Mike,” you answered, closer to his ear to combat the several voices. “But we should just get a hotel room-” 

“That’s breaking the rules and you know it!” Another cousin yelled, pointing his fork at you. 

You shook your head. “You’re a grown ass man and you still want a shot at staying with Uncle Mike?” You almost snapped, making him shrug. 

“You’re just pissed because you never get it!” He snapped back. 

You shook your head almost dramatically. “What if I didn’t want to stay with Uncle Mike?” 

“Liar!” 

“I like staying with oma!” 

He sent you a sarcastic smile as if to call your bullshit. “Fine then, we’re taking bets on who has to sleep in the tent.” 

You had almost forgotten Asa was there until he piped up. “I have ten on you then,” he quipped and your heart slightly fluttered at him as your cousin pointed to him, leaning over the table aggressively to shake Asa’s hand as the other cousins began saying it was other people. One got up to grab an old pad of paper to take down the bets and you pinched the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb. Asa was loving every minute of this. 

After dinner, half of your great uncles were passed out on the couch and your grandmother was shuffling her beat up deck of cards, long past the date it should have been retired. Your heart began to beat slightly, the adrenaline rushing through you as you thought about the bets that were made and the possibility of having to sleep outdoors. You sat on the couch, watching closely as the deck was brought around, shuffled and fanned out for each of the kids. Meanwhile Asa leaned his elbows on his knees, playing Cat’s Cradle with one of your younger cousins. Your leg rested against his as you focused on the cards, maybe it wasn’t the chance that you would have to sleep in a beat up old tent, but rather the rush of competition. So far, most of the spaces in the upper level of your grandma’s house had been taken as well as the spots in your cousin’s. Uncle Mike’s had yet to be completely claimed and the tent still hung in the air. 

The deck came towards you, your grandmother swooping down slightly for the cousin that was entranced by the string game. She drew a card: the top bunk of one of many stacked beds at Uncle Mike’s. Her older brother cheered, knowing that you now had an even bigger chance of getting the tent. The deck was offered to Asa, your grandmother raising an eyebrow. “No, I don’t trust him,” you quickly stated, ignoring his sarcastically hurt expression. The deck was turned to you. “I love you, but you have some of the worst luck.” Your mind raced at what was left and then you realized that Asa would be sleeping with you. Then you prayed to whatever higher being could help you to not give you an upper floor. “We have a lot riding on this,” you muttered as she fanned the cards for you. You drew your card, quickly turning it over and snapping it around towards your cousins who all groaned at the fluent, swirling writing your grandma was known for. 

“Are you kidding!” 

“How?” 

“Fuck! I could have bought a ton of M&M’s with that money.” 

Your grandma whipped around to the last cousin to speak, yanking on his ear quickly and hissing, “Halt deinen Mund!” He put his hands up in defense looking at her with wide eyes and you smirked. 

“Yeah, Halt deinen Mund,” you mocked and she snapped her fingers at you, making you close your mouth quickly before she moved on. You all broke out into a fit of giggles silently, relieved that no one had the tent yet. The one who made the bet with Asa was who you hoped would get it, in all honesty. You finally let out a breath, relaxing completely. 

You snuggled into your seat, crossing your legs and throwing an arm around the section of the back of the couch where Asa was sitting. He leaned back, tucking under your arm slightly, raising an eyebrow in your direction. “And where did we get?” 

You handed him the card. “Oma’s back basement room. There’s a waterbed, but other than that, it’s a win.” 

He chuckled, flipping the card between his long fingers. “That could be fun,” he whispered slightly and you pushed his face away with your hand as he laughed. As the party died down enough that people were heading to their designated spots or out back to set piles of leaves on fire, you and Asa grabbed your bags and headed through the maze of a house to your room for the night and possibly the next. It really depended on how much Asa could actually take of your family. 

Your room was just off the retro bar that was always used around the winter holidays. You thanked whoever was looking out for you up above as you threw your bags down on one of the dated couches and peaked into the newly renovated bathroom. “So, how are you feeling?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips as he slipped his sweater over his head and readjusting his t-shirt. 

“I’m exhausted,” he stated, biting back a wide grin before plopping down into the middle of the bed, it sloshed around under his movements and he giggled slightly before laying back. You perked an eyebrow. “I’m ready. Fuck me on a waterbed,” he jeered, smirking up at you. 

He tucked his arms beneath his head, and you sent him a tilted expression. “You are so strange.”