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rockingrobin69 · 2 years

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A Snip of Something Tuesday

Thank you so much my darling @getawayfox for tagging me! Today I present to you 1.5k-ish of my most recent obsession. It runs dark. Featuring exhausting boss, corporate silliness hell, with a fine streak of emotionally abusive relationship in the background. Fun.

The worst thing about working at ‘Lights Lights Lights etc.’ was the headaches. True to its name, the shop was illuminated to an eye-watering brightness, with neon, halogens, fluorescent, LEDs, you name it, they stock it. Draco took this job mostly as a joke: to be working for the light side, this time, get it? A fully illuminated working environment. He didn’t take into account coming in at half seven in the morning, having everything turned on at once. Having this violent reaction starting in his gut. Having his insides flip and his throat contract and his eyes try to crawl out of his head. He couldn’t have expected all this, though, because back when he took the job, he didn’t know Will yet.

The second worst thing about LLLc was probably the customers. Or Robbie, the most obnoxious man to ever wear the red polo, also Draco’s boss. Or perhaps it was the bins behind the shop, always reeking of piss and smoke. Having to go there alone at night, who’d imagine they’d have such a poorly lit back alley. With the way his hands always shook and the bin bags’ non-existent sturdiness. Finding himself covered in sticky, putrid—so the customers, anyway, what a nightmare. You’d think people would be a little more tolerable when it came to a bloody fixture on the walls. But people were people, a lesson Draco had to learn over and over and over again. People were people. And people fucking sucked.

Draco would have gladly continued his list (the numbers fluctuated, always consisting of the same elements, but in different order. Apart from number twenty six, which was always, always, Terry with the parrot. Always number twenty six, for no apparent or obvious reason). However, the pleasant pastime wasn’t a big hit with management. Or that is to say, Robbie was back from his break.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Oh yeah, he liked to swear. But only like a child afraid of getting caught, when there was no one else around. A single customer walking into the shop transformed Robbie into a first year schoolteacher.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I can see that.”

“Then—” he swallowed the rest of the sentence. Wouldn’t do him any good, that’s for certain. Draco wasn’t a boy anymore, and not as much of an idiot as one would assume just by looking at him. He’s learned, painstakingly, when to shut his mouth.

“What was that?” Robbie smiled his horrible, horrible smile. Did Draco mention he hated this man? He hated him so. It was hard sometimes to remember why he still went to work in the first place.

(Probably the money. Yeah, mostly that. Also, losing his job would lead to an argument with Will, and if there was something in this world Draco would do anything for, absolutely anything in his power, it would be to avoid an argument with Will.)

“So? What was it you were saying?”

“Nothing.” Prick.

Robbie’s smile widened. “Then get off your arse and start working. Doing what I’m paying you for, you know? If you have time to lean—”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Draco mumbled, inaudible, getting up and rolling his eyes, but only when he was out of Robbie’s eyesight. The idiot wasn’t even the one paying him. He was just a junior-level manager. What is it they say about power?

He was saved from that particular idiom when the door jangled open. Robbie cleared his throat loud enough to draw Draco’s attention, accompanied by his eyebrows, and then his hands, signalling go to them! in the most dramatic, passionate way. Then with his eyes, something complicated, a lot like ‘you’re a no-good arsehole, do your bloody job before I kick your teeth in’. Draco waited till his face turned a nice shade of puce, just for the thrill of it, before approaching the incomer, a tall man browsing the lamp selection.

“Good evening welcome to Lights Lights Lights Etc. my name is Draco how can I assist you find your perfect lighting solution today?”

The man looked up, startled. Draco used to have to take a deep breath before spouting all that shit. Now it was as instinctive as blinking.

“Eh, no thank you. I’m just looking.”

Fan-fricking-tastic. Draco stretched his face into something resembling a smile. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”

And right here he was, leaning against the wall and waiting. Robbie won’t be able to berate him when there’s a customer about, and besides, he disappeared to the storeroom anyway, probably to call his girlfriend. Ha, as if he’d ever get a girlfriend. Probably calling his mum. His mum. That’s very funny.

(Draco didn’t know why he’s always backing himself into these corners. Shut up, just, maybe for a second? Do everyone a favour.)

“Erm, excuse me? How much for this one?”

Goody. Work. Something to get his mind off the—whatever all that was. Draco shook himself out of being pathetic, came a bit closer. “Let me scan the barcode. Be right back.”

How distracting, the way his shoes tapped on the floor: click-clack of the self-important kind. Will hated them, but they’re the only black shoes he still owned. Needed them for work, mandatory and everything. He should really get a new pair. A silent one would be best. Click, clack, click-clack. Draco hated Thursdays most, but today was only Tuesday.

“That one’s thirty quid.” his voice came out hoarse, and the man startled again. Easy to scare, men these days. Only have to threaten them once before they crumble. “The one to your left, yes, that one, very similar, but it’s on sale. Goes for twenty-three.”

“Oh, that’s, erm, thanks, I don’t,” the man kept mumbling as he disappeared. The bell rang, sure to summon—yes, there he was, Robbie coming back with a vengeance. Or just his gloomy, irritable pout, the one that promised shouting is imminent.

“What did you do now?” he scrunched his nose, and Draco hated him.

“Nothing. He left.”

“Did you even tell him about the discount on the—”

“Yes.” It shouldn’t matter, because this was all so petty and so useless, but Draco did tell him about the discount, and he could see that Robbie didn’t believe it. “I did. I told him, and he left anyway. Didn’t care about the discount, fancy that.”

“You need some serious work on your attitude, Malfoy. Always with that face, and with that tone, no wonder that people walk out of here feeling…”

Shit, but if that wasn’t exactly what Will said—Draco gulped, loud enough to drown the rest of the rant. The famous rotten-Malfoy attitude, needing adjustment on aisle five. If only it were… shit, shit. How could it only be Tuesday? Felt like a real fucking Thursday. Draco hated Thursdays. Himself, too, sometimes.

“All right, all right. I’ll be better. More—serviceable. What you said.” Draco watched Robbie’s mouth slacken in shock, which will turn into anger soon enough if he didn’t do something about it. “Smoking break. Thanks for the chat, boss. I’ll take it to heart, promise.” Nearly running out of there: click-clack! Click! Clack!

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Draco stopped in the parking lot, bent down, hands on his thighs. Calm down, calm down. Robbie’s nothing. He’s literally nothing. He didn’t mean anything by it, not the same way Will meant it. Didn’t have a point like Will had. He was just being a dick, which shouldn’t be at all surprising, wasn’t any kind of news. Shouldn’t be startling. Men these days, so easily startled. Threaten to leave them once, and they crumble.

What will Robbie do about it, anyway? Fire him? He wouldn’t. Draco’s the only one who’d work Saturdays now, with Oliver on leave and Jenny with her boyfriend. So, honestly, just, Merlin, keep it cool. Draco always did this, loved to do it, didn’t he. Fuck things up so much in his head he can’t be normal about them outside either. His attitude really did need an adjustment. Imagine: Robbie was, for once in his life, correct about something. Draco laughed into his palms, wiped his face. Okay. Okay. Try again, like a fucking person now.

By the time he walked back into the shop, he was breathing normally. Robbie was in the back, probably calling his mum again. The lights all around him flickered, painfully bright. People are always so scared of the dark, but it’s the light that plays tricks on your eyes.

Draco could already feel the headache coming. Worst thing about working in the shop, the headaches were. And then bloody Robbie, probably. The door opened, and two middle-aged ladies sauntered inside with their smiles and their questions and their smiles.

“Good evening welcome to Lights Lights Lights Etc. my name is Draco how can I assist you find your perfect lighting solution today?”

Fuck it. He can only do better, can’t he?

I’m hereby tagging you to share snips, or neeps, or even shnips, if you feel like it!

#drarry fic #wip snip #it's a tuesday. this tracks #tw for abusive relationship #remember Will? yes he's back

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behind-streetkids-eyes · 2 years

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Behind Streetkid's Eyes - Chapter 1

The Street Life

The rain poured down on Divine City like God was weeping for the sins of those who lived there. It was the last thing needed here. The streets were coated with water. A young street rat was wandering these dreadful streets of this netherworld. She was used to the downpour. Where the only time she did mind was when a car sprinted by like lightning, dousing her in mud-filled water. She had nothing but the tattered clothes on her back. The sky roared louder with the rain. She figured it was time to take shelter.

Passing by a window of a diner, she watched citizens enjoying a banquet there. Hungry, cold, she felt the gurgling vibrations of her stomach. It didn’t help when she saw multiple naked female figure ads about synth-cheesecake playing throughout. Sex did sell. It also made her hunger worse. Placing a hand on it, she felt her insides eroding from hunger. Licking her lips, she eyed the fresh-prepared synth-burgers from outside, as an angelic voice called to her.

“Ronny, tell me you’re not thinking about klepting food with lawmen in there?” called the voice inside her head.

“I know, Celine, but I’m starving,” Ronny answered.

A man wearing a buttoned up light-blue shirt and tan slacks exited the diner. He was a husky size and held a shotgun in his hand. He was the owner of the diner. Darting his eyes full of anger at Ronny, he loaded his shotgun.

“Get the fuck out of here, you street rat!” He yelled as he aimed the gun at Ronny. “You don’t belong here!”

Ronny quickly dashed to get off the property. Scurrying throughout the wet streets, she made her way down the depths of the dark realm of an alley. She stopped by a dumpster to catch her breath.

“I knew you were going to piss off the owner,” reprimanded Celine.

“I didn’t do jack shit,” protested Ronny as she leaned against a concrete wall. “Fuuuck… I’m so hungry that I can barely stand up.”

Ronny paused as she heard loud music. A sweet aroma passed by her nose. Inhaling it all in, she smelled something delectable. It smelled like pie. Not just one, but a truckload of them. She looked around, and saw the Yanshi Entertainment Hall was holding a live music festival. There was synthwave-pop music exploding with sound from inside. She squinted and scanned the surroundings of the enormous venue and saw caterers carrying pies and synth-cheesecakes.

“So that’s where that smell is coming from..” Ronny said.

“No no no, Ronny, don’t break into that event! You’ll get busted,” cried Celine within her head.

“Hey, it’s either that or we die of hunger. My vote goes for klepting food.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing…”

Creeping over toward a tour bus, Ronny was stealthy as a ninja. She squinted and scanned the back entrance. Seeing two guards blocking the entrance, she glanced over and scanned a screen. Selecting a pre-programmed hack, she transmitted it over. She didn’t have a fancy cyberdeck in her. It was an old model she had. A common one, but it came to good use.

Ten seconds.

It was taking ten seconds for the transmission to go through, yet it always felt longer. Finally, the transmission finished. The picture on the screen jumbled up, distracting the two guards. They walked over to the disorganized screen to check it out.

“Hey, the hell’s up with the screen?!” one guard said as he examined it.

While they were distracted, it was Ronny’s chance to get inside. Prowling about, she quickly made her way inside the venue. She could smell the scent from the pies much more. She was close. Hiding behind a crate, she poked her head to find the backstage catering, surrounded by VIP guests. She slinked closer toward the catering table. There was one woman there, who was a hired merc. She was wearing a neon green crop tank top, synth-leather pants, combat boots, and her bright pink hair was in a side ponytail. Ronny saw a caterer serving some synth-cheesecake. She licked her lips.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” she said as she bolted towards the table.

“No wait! Ronny!” cried Celine.

Ronny dismissed Celine’s warnings. The guests gasped with fear as if they saw a ghost. They talked over each other after seeing a filthy street rat in a lavish music venue.

“Ewww! Who invited this pile of filth?!” Shrieked a female guest.

Murmuring among themselves, Ronny grabbed the synth-cheesecake and high-tailed it out.

“Hey, you’re supposed to pay for that!” The head caterer hollered at Ronny. “Security!”

Three guards came backstage to chase after Ronny.

In the meantime, the guests had fled the backstage area in fear except for the pink-haired stranger. She watched Ronny take off with guards on her tail. She squinted her eyes to scan Ronny, obtaining information about her.

The silent alarm was triggered. The exit was starting to close. Ronny hurried to get out, but the door closed on her. She cursed up a storm. Her only way to escape was to fast-hack it. She looked back at the door, and squinted her eyes to scan the door. Quickly, she selected a pre-programmed hack to breach the door. While waiting for the transmission to go through, the guards approached her.

“Got’cha, you little thief,” said a guard as he aimed his pistol at Ronny.

Finally, the transmission went through and the door swung open. Ronny zipped out to escape from the venue, the synth-cheesecake clutched in her hands. Luckily, the rain cleared up, so the delicious morsel wouldn’t be a soggy mess.

“You’re such a gonk for pulling that stunt. You nearly got flatlined,” Celine lectured.

“Yeah, but now we have food. Thank fuck,” replied Ronny. “Let’s get the hell out of here and eat.”

*~*~*

Arriving at the hideaway she called home, she gasped. Ronny’s cardboard box home was a soggy mess from the rain. Even the old-battered mattress she had was soaked. She didn’t worry too much about rebuilding it because she was so hungry, she could eat her own fingers. She flopped down on the wet and muddy ground with the synth-cheesecake in her hands. Digging her fingers into the sugar-filled pie, she grabbed a big chunk of it into her dirty, filth hands. She took a bite. She felt her taste buds going straight to heaven and back. Moaning with pleasure, she continued to scoop up more of it and stuffed her face.

After fifteen minutes of scarfing the pie, she let out a belch and patted her now satisfied stomach.

“That really hit the spot,” Ronny said happily.

“Happy belly?” Asked Celine.

“Very.”

She looked up at the now night sky. Without much else to do, Ronny laid down on her soggy mattress and rested her eyes before she fell asleep.

#cyberpunk aesthetic #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cyberpunk rp #cyberpunk red #cyberpunk oc #cyberpunk photomode #cyberpunk art #cyberpunk city #cyberpunk character #futuristic #writerscommunity #novelist #fiction #cyberpunk streetkid #women writers #creative writing #writing life #behind streetkids eyes

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Kou Route ー Chapter 4

ー The scene starts on the plaza

Kou: ...

...What is going on?

So she’s keeping secrets from me after all.

On top of that, she had those fresh bite marks on her skin...This sucks.

Even though I believed...She was different from the people I knew.

...I trusted her...

...

...Ahー...

Kou: Ahー! Geez!

I’m not stupid either! ...I know that Yui isn’t that sorta girl.

I actually knew when I sucked her blood earlier.

That she would never hide anything from me.

Hence, I believe there must be some sort of explanation behind those marks on her arm I saw earlier as well.

...But it just won’t work. I can’t bring myself to put faith in her...

Even though I want to trust her so badly...I just can’t figure out what I should do.

...Fuck..!

Yui...I’m sorry.

*TIMESKIP*

ー Yui arrives on the plaza

Yui: ...Haah...haah...

( Kou-kun...He’s not here either. )

( I wonder where he ran off to? I’ve been looking all over this whole time, but he’s nowhere to be found... )

( If I had known things would turn out like this...I should have lifted the misunderstanding sooner and explained everything to him right away. )

( But...I’m to blame because I didn’t wait for Kou-kun in the first place, right? )

( Still...I couldn’t turn a blind eye to that young Kou-kun either. )

( After all, to me, both are just different versions of the same person I treasure. )

...Kou-kun...

Male Vampire D: ーー Oi, she’s the one, right?

Male Vampire E: ...Yeah, without a doubt. ...Hehe...

Yui: ...?

( Those Vampires...They’re looking my way...? )

( Right. I’m a delicious snack over here...Kou-kun told me... )

( I wasn’t too bothered by it up till now because I had him by my side, but right now... )

( ...Either way, I’ll look for Kou-kun first. )

( I need to have a proper face-to-face with him and solve this misunderstanding...! )

ー She runs off again as the scene shifts to a back-alley

Yui: ( ...It’s no use. I can’t find him at all. )

( ...Kou-kun, where are you? )

( Even if I’m at a fun festival, or if they tell me I’ve been chosen as the ‘Queen’, when you’re not with me... )

ー The two Vampires from earlier approach her

Male Vampire D: Excuse me, young lady!

Yui: Eh...?

Male Vampire E: Hehe...Is that a feast on legs I see~?

Yui: ( ...Those Vampires who were looking at me earlier...!? )

Male Vampire D: Oh, hell yeah! She’s got quite the cute face too!

Male Vampire E: You’re a human, aren’t you? ...On top of that, you smell different from just any regular old one. ...It’s the scent of delicious blood.

Yui: P-Please move aside. I’m looking for someonーー

Male Vampire D: Woah, hold it!

ー The Vampire grabs hold of her arm

*Rustle*

Yui: ...!?

( He grabbed my arm...! It hurts...! )

Male Vampire D: We won’t let you get away. ...You’ve been spreading your nice scent all over the place this whole time, you know?

Male Vampire E: It’s the kind of smell which drives us mad...You’ll be coming with us.

ー The scene shifts to one of the side streets

Yui: ...Let me go! Please!

*Rustle*

Male Vampire D: Ahー Yeah, whatever. Pipe down.

Yui: ( What should I do...? I can’t shake him off, no matter how hard I try...! )

Male Vampire D: Haahー You smell so nice...Humans really are a blessing.

Yui: No...!

( Oh no, at this rate...!! )

...Ugh...! ...Kou-kun...!!

Male Vampire E: Oi, you better keep a tight grip on her! Well, I’m pretty sure a human female stands no chance, no matter how much she struggーー

Kou: Yui!!

Yui: ( ...Eh...? )

ー Kou runs up to them

Kou: What are you scumbags doing!?

ー He punches them

*THUD*

Male Vampire E: Guah...!?

Yui: Kou-kun...

Kou: Yui, this way!

*Rustle*

Kou: Hide behind me. ...Everything will be fine, okay?

...Oi, you jerks. You better don’t believe you’ll get away with hurting her.

If you don’t want me to ensure you will never enjoy the carnival again, then get out of my sight at once!

...Before I lose it.

Male Vampire D: Eek...!?

Male Vampire E: Ugh...Fuck! Oi, let’s go!!

ー The two Vampires run off

Kou: ...Hmph! Those horny bastards. (1)

Yui...Are you okay? I’m sorry, I really cut it close.

Yui: No...Ah...

I’m sorry, Kou-kun...My legs seem to have given in...

*Rustle*

Kou: It’s okay. You can keep leaning against me, okay?

...You’re trembling. You must have been terrified, huh?

All because I left you behind...I’m sorry I made you go through such a scary experience. Earlier as well...

Yui: ...Kou-kun...

Kou: ...Even though I knew this would happen...

I’m the one who said you’re a delicious feast to the people here after all.

Whether you want it or not, there will be Vampires like those guys from before who will come seek out your blood.

Yet I blamed it all on you...I’m ashamed of myself.

I’m sorry for hurting you...because of my stupid jealousy.

...I truly regret it.

Yui: No. Thank you...for coming to my rescue.

Kou: Of course I would! I mean...You’re precious to me after all.

Yui: Kou-kun...

Kou: ...The skin on your wrist has turned red. Where they grabbed you earlier...

Yui: Ah...Yeah. Seems like it.

Kou: Can you give me a quick look?

*Rustle rustle*

Kou: Does it hurt?

Yui: Yeah, a little...His grip was really strong after all.

Kou: I see...

...Say. I’ll treat your wounds. Okay?

Yui: Treat...?

Kou: ...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: K-Kou-kun!? It tickles...

Kou: Keep still. It hurts, doesn’t it? ...Nn...

Besides...I have to disinfect the area they touched.

Yui: They didn’t bite me, you know...?

Kou: It doesn’t matter whether they sucked your blood or not. I don’t like he thought of their hands being on you...

*Rustle rustle*

Kou: ...Nn...

*Smooch*

Kou: Say, Yui...Right here, look at me.

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: ...

Yui: ( Kou-kun... He’s staring right into my eyes. )

Kou: ...Just as I thought, I can’t see anything yet.

Yui: You’re talking about your right eye...?

Kou: Yeah.

But I guess I can live without it. There’s other ways as well, after all. For example, like thisーー Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ...

Kou: ...When I kiss you like this, it becomes obvious as well. That you feel strongly about me, that is.

It’s such a simple thing, so why do I always find myself growing unsure so quickly...?

I wonder if I should kiss you more and more so I don’t become uncertain? Or maybe...There’s another way?

Selection

→ How about putting it into words? (☾)

Yui: Then...How about trying to put it into words more?

Kou: Words?

Yui: Yeah! I’ll often tell you just how much I like you with words as well! So you don’t grow anxious.

Kou: You do have a point, I’d love to hear that from you more often as well. I feel as if that makes me happier...Than simply witnessing it with my eyes.

Say, why don’t we do a little trial run?

Yui: I...like you, Kou-kun?

So very much...

→ I don’t know

Yui: I’m not quite sure, but...

Kou: But?

Yui: ...If you do it one more time, you might understand...?

Kou: ...Fufu. You really are adorable.

You see, I’ve told myself to stop racking my brains over complicated things. It’s pointless when I just can’t figure it out anyway.

I love you. As long as I know that, I’ll be fine...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ( ...Kou-kun... )

Kou: ...I’m sorry, Yui. I’m kind of struggling to hold myself back.

Yui: Eh?

ー Kou bites her

Kou: Hah...Nn...

Yui: Nn...!

Kou: I’m so sorry...For some reason, you suddenly seemed irresistible to me. Nn...Phew...

Yui: ( It caught me a little off guard but...He’s being so gentle right now, it doesn’t hurt. )

( Thank god. We managed to properly talk things out...right? The misunderstanding got solved as weーー )

( ...Ah! )

K-Kou-kun! Wait...!

Kou: Nn...What...?

Yui: You see...There’s something I have to tell you.

Kou: Something you have to tell me...?

Yui: Yeah...You remember the marks on my arm from earlier, right?

Kou: Yeah...I do. So, what’s up with those?

Yui: Well...I don’t know whether you’ll believe me or not but...

To tell the truth...I was bitten by a child version of you.

Kou: ...Hah?

Uhm...I’m sorry, M-neko-chan. I don’t really understand what you’re trying to say? What do you mean with ‘a child version of me’?

Yui: ( I-I guess he really doesn’t believe me. But I should at least try and properly explain... )

You went to chase after those kids who knocked over our juice at the cafe, right?

Back thenーー

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ーー And that’s what happened.

Kou: And that was me?

Yui: I only have the name and the appearance to base myself on but...I don’t think I’ve got it wrong.

Although that obviously doesn’t make for conclusive proof...

Kou: Well, this is the Demon World still, so strange phenomena can definitely occur.

...My child self, huh...?

ー The younger Kou walks up to them

Yui: Ah...! Kou-kun!

Kou: Eh?

Child Kou (2): ...

Yui: It was this child, Kou-kun!

Kou: ...No way.

Child Kou: ...

Yui: ( Seeing them side by side...They really do look alike. )

( Is this child really Kou-kun’s young self? )

Kou: W-What is going on...!?

Why is this...? Also, those clothes...

Child Kou: ...This way.

Kou: Eh?

Yui: ( The little Kou is...Gesturing to follow him...? )

Child Kou: ...Come here, Yui. That Kou as well.

ー The child runs off

Kou: Ah...Wait!

Yui: He left...L-Let’s try going after him for now?

Kou: Y-Yeah...

This doesn’t make any sense. What is going on!?

ー The scene shifts to the inside of an abandoned building

Yui: ( Following after the small Kou-kun brought us over here, but... )

Kou: ...

Child Kou: ...

Yui: ( Kou-kun and a little Kou-kun... )

( I honestly can barely believe my eyes, seeing them standing next to each other like that... )

Kou: ...So?

I don’t know who or what you are, but what do you want from us? Bringing us here.

Child Kou: ...No fair.

Kou: Eh?

Child Kou: It’s no fair you get to have everything, Kou.

Yui: ( Kou-kun is...advantaged? )

Kou: What? ...What do you mean?

Child Kou: ...

...It’s no fair that Kou gets to have it all. He has everything I don’t.

Meanwhile I have nothing at all.

Yui: ( Since he calls it unfair...I guess that means this child is envious of Kou-kun...? )

Kou: ...So what?

You don’t have what I do. And?

Do you want me to share with you or something? Because we’re both the same person?

...Don’t joke around with me. That sorta stuff really pisses me off.

Yui: W-Wait, Kou-kun...!

Child Kou: ...

Kou: ...That look in your eyes. It brings me back, I feel disgusted.

It feels a little uncomfortable saying this to myself but could you please just get out of my sight? Just watching you makes me feel even more irritated.

Child Kou: ...!

*Clunk*

Yui: Eh...!?

Child Kou: ...Then suffer!

Kou: ...He vanished...?

...Anyway, that noise from earlier.

*Clatter clatter*

Kou: ...I knew it. He locked us up in here.

Yui: Eh!?

Kou: Ah~ ...He got us...

Yui: W-What should we do, Kou-kun...?

Kou: Haah...There’s nothing we can do. No point in wasting energy when the door won’t open anyway.

Geez...He really got us good...Well, I played myself, I should say.

Yui: Fufu, right.

Kou: You should take a seat too. The door won’t open anyway. Here, sit next to me.

Yui: Ah, yeah.

*Rustle*

Kou: Haah...We got to come to this festival but today has been one disaster after the other.

I’m sorry, Yui.

Yui: Eh? ...Why do you apologize?

Kou: I mean, we got locked up in here because I upset him.

That’s not all. It was my fault...That you were attacked by other Vampires as well.

...I’m sorry.

Yui: ( Kou-kun... )

I won’t deny that a lot happened but...I had a blast, you know?

Yui: I mean...Just by being together and talking like this...I have fun.

So don’t worry?

Kou: ...Yui...

Kou: ...Fufu. Say, are you trying to entice me?

Yui: Eeh!? N-No! I didn’t mean to...!

Kou: Even if that wasn’t your intention, that’s what it sounded like to me, you know?

Ahーah...I want to turn you into a mess, right here, right now.

Yui: ( K-Kou-kun... )

Kou: I won’t, though! I’m currently reflecting upon myself after all!

...I realized my mistakes and regretted them but after hearing your words, I somehow don’t feel like this is such a bad thing.

We can just take it nice and easy here together.

Although I do feel a little bad for hogging the Queen of the Carnival all to myself.

Yui: Ah...Speaking of which, I was assigned said role, huh...?

Kou: Haha, you forgot?

But...Yeah. You can forget about it. It’s not like you can fulfill your duty while we’re locked up in here.

And I want to keep you all to myself as well.

Yui: ( Kou-kun... )

Kou: I’m sure someone will find us eventually if we wait.

So...Let’s stay like this until that happens? Together.

Yui: ...Yeah.

( I can hear people enjoying the Carnival outside but... )

( Spending this kind of alone time isn’t bad either. )

( As long as Kou-kun’s with me... )

ー They doze off together as the scene shifts to the ballroom

Yui: ...Nn...?

( Huh...? Where are we...? )

( I’m pretty sure we were inside an abandoned building just now...? )

Kou: Nn...Yui...?

Yui: Ah, Kou-kun. Good morning.

Kou: Nn...Did we fall asleep...?

...Heeh!? Wait, where are we!?

ー The crowd starts cheering

Male Vampire A: Ooh! The King and Queen of the Carnival have awakened!

*Clap clap clap*

Kou: Eeh!? What is this!? What’s going on!?

Yui: Kou-kun, this place...! It looks like the Carnival’s venue!?

Kou: W-What do you mean...?

Male Vampire A: King and Queen, this way please.

Yui: Uhm...Kou-kun, what is going on...?

Kou: I have no clue either...

Male Vampire B: This Carnival is a banquet to celebrate the birth of a new Adam and Eve.

Yui: The new Adam and Eve?

Kou: Ah, wait wait!

Let’s just say she is the Queen of the Carnival.

But me as the King...There’s just no way, right?

Male Vampire A: But the one chosen by Eve becomes Adam, right?

Male Vampire B: Then nobody else can fulfill said role. You are without a doubt the King of this Carnival!

*Clap clap clap*

Yui: ...In short...

Kou: This party is being held...for us?

???: ーー Exactly.

Kou: ...Karlheinz-sama!?

Why are you here...!?

Karlheinz: Kou...No, that would be wrong right now. Newborn Adam, andーー

Yui: ( He’s looking my way...? )

Karlheinz: ーー Eve.

Yui: ...

Karlheinz: Did you both enjoy the celebration?

Kou: ...No. I doubt she was able to have fun because of me.

Yui: Kou-kun...

Karlheinz: Why do you feel that way?

Kou: Because I’m...selfish. So I failed to take her into consideration.

But, she told me she had fun regardless. That she only needs me by her side.

That’s why...I had tons of fun as well. Since we got to spend the Carnival together.

Karlheinz: ...I see. I am glad.

I set this up to celebrate you both.

Yui: ( For us...? )

Karlheinz: However, a simple celebration would be too dull. Therefore, I added some staging of my own.

Yui: ...Staging?

Karlheinz: Yes, in various ways.

Kou: Don’t tell me, are you the one behind the small one...?

Karlheinz: Small one? What could you be referring to? Kou, I am talking about your right eye.

Kou: Eh? ...Ah.

Karlheinz: I shall return your eye to normal. Close them.

Kou: ...Yes.

Karlheinz: ...This should do the trick.

Kou: Thank you very much. I feel as if I was able to remember something very important...because of you.

Karlheinz: Very well. ...I suppose this eye might be something you no longer need.

Adam and Eve. May the two of you...find happiness.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Kou calls them ‘ero-vampires’, which even though it obviously comes from the English ‘erotic’, when you use it to describe a person, it’s closer to ‘perverted’ or ‘dirty’ than ‘erotic’.

(2) In the actual game, both are named ‘Kou’, but I figured it would be too confusing for those playing without an actual console/game, so I adjusted it a little.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 3

→ PROCEED TO FINALE ENDING

→ PROCEED TO NORMAL ENDING

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kou mukami #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #vckouchapter4

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xbunnybunz · 4 years

Text

always maybe never [wolf keum x reader]

Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.

Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance

Date: December 27, 2020

-----

“They took my glasses,” He said.

He looked pissed.

You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.

“Did you lose?” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.

“No.” He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe he’s tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. “No. I fucking didn’t.”

Silence falls over the both of you. Over you, drenched, standing over him in a moldy, stinking alley. Over him, shielded from the rain with your umbrella, lip busted and knuckles bruised.

The red and blue lights of a police car soaring through the night carry into the alley. It throws hues of neon colors upon Wolf’s face, he’s so belligerent even like this, you think you might just leave him here.

“If you’re done asking me questions, you can fuck right off now.”

He’s a nasty little thing, but the way his eyes glint like diamonds in the sliver of yellowed streetlights intrigue you.

“How long were you planning to stay here then?”

He doesn’t respond. Shifts half an inch away from you, like he kinda wants you to leave and also not really.

“It’s real cold out tonight.” You say. And he looks seriously hurt, but you don’t say this aloud. You wonder what the fight was about, if it was worth ending up next to a dumpster for.

You move closer, kneel so you’re eye-level with him despite his adamancy to not even glance in your direction. The moon bounces light off his damp hair, first silver, then purple. The city lights tend to play tricks on your eyes.

“Let’s get somewhere warm, alright?”

You present a palm to him, face up and already starting to pool with rainwater.

It hangs in the air for a long moment, long enough for you to begin to retract it. But then he reaches out and grabs it, a large, calloused hand wrapping over your own. Even in the chill of twilight, a warmth blossoms there.

“You’re fucking annoying.” Is all he says.

You roll your eyes and hoist him up to the best of your ability, which included almost dislocating your elbow as he slowly picked himself up. It’s only when the top of his head hits your umbrella do you realize how much bigger he is than you.

“Here, you should take this.” You hold out the umbrella to him. He takes it wordlessly, placing it right between the both of you. He’s shivering, despite his best efforts to hide it, you can feel the tremor of his body when it brushes against yours for that golden split second.

You look up at him, eyeballing the furrow of his brows, the slight twitch of his lip, eyes cast somewhere far into a long distance. Just what was he looking away from?

You make it to a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery without serious injury. He flops down onto the seat like a wet fish and grills the patrons who look at him funny.

“Play nice.” You hum, moving beside him and drying him out as best you could with takeout napkins.

He grunts and exhales deep and heavy from his nostrils, hair matted to his forehead and neck. You dab at it, wondering if the purple color would bleed like cheap tye-dye. Of course, it doesn’t.

“You have such an interesting taste.” You coo. Fingers find strands of hair and pinch, rolling.

He turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes cold yet burning. Like this hasn’t happened before, like he hasn’t absolutely taken you apart and pieced you back together before.

“I know.”

Just those two words are enough to send electricity down your spine. You pull away before you’re zapped by this high voltage man.

You take a seat but never break eye contact with him.

The low buzz of the yellowed restaurant lights above you hum life into your fingertips, into your ears, into your heart. It’s nauseating to see the dark red and purple bruising on his cheek and browbone.

“You should find some hobbies,” You offer, voice quieter now. “Like knitting, or something.”

Your lips begin to quirk up, but his straight face drains you of that energy.

“Maybe later.” He says, and you remind yourself to start keeping a tally of each time he says that.

“Right.” You look down at your lap and laugh, but it sounds dry. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll bring you home.”

He doesn’t argue.

The next time you see him, he’s got his glasses again. He’s still scuffed from the last fight but at least he can walk straight now.

“Are you alone?” You ask, bumping hips with him behind the slushie machine.

He takes one crinkling bag of chips off the shelf, cellophane crackling under his fingers. There’s a black motorcycle helmet wedged under his arm and he’s got his riding sneakers on.

“Yeah.”

You peek at the door and true to his word, you only spot his motorbike and pedestrians cursing how it was parked.

“That’s rare,” You tease. You’re standing close to him, so you dare to brush your pinky against his. Nearly have a heart attack when he hooks his with yours.

You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To anyone who wasn’t watching for a sign, he’d just be pondering the selection. But you were watching, always watching for anything. A glance, a flutter, a chance that he was really there with you.

Today, he’s generous. Staring straight ahead, he graces you with a slight upward curve of his lips. Just a bit, just enough to dimple his cheek, just enough for you.

Play it coy. You pull away from him and tiptoe between the fridges with a sway in your step. You pray and pray he’s following you. When you catch sight of his figure in the reflection of a coffee pot, you feel like a million bucks.

“Ah, I wonder what I should get for tonight.”

You don’t mind that you’re in the unthawed hams section because you know he’s not paying attention anyways. He’s just relying on muscle memory while you agonize over all your movements, you’ve both been through this a hundred times.

Right on beat, he asks the question you’ve been praying for.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His shoulders look broader when he rolls them, the red school blazer stretching and falling back into place. He has no idea how mad he drives you.

“Oh, I guess that’d be nice.”

He smirks, a wicked smile.

Or maybe he does.

You love riding on his motorcycle because everything smells like him, but you guess that’s easy when your face is buried in his hair and the crook of his neck.

Every time you wrap your arms around his waist, you hold onto him like you’ll lose him. One of these days, you swear you will. Sometimes you catch him throwing a glance over his shoulder, and sometimes you wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally tell you to let go. But it never is.

The wind whips about the both of you and blisters your cheeks with the cold. He’s slowed down, and you love it because you know he rides like a demon without you.

The city lights zip by you like fireflies in the distance, the glow of commercial buildings dwindling to zero as you enter the residential area. The scrape of rubber tires on concrete pavement makes people peep out their windows, tongue in cheek, before closing the blinds.

“How are you back there?” He asks at a red light, voice muffled from under his helmet.

“Warm.” You lie. Kind of.

His chest moves in rippling motion that might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. And he’s off again. Your eyes close and you hold him closer to you, feel his body and heartbeat against yours, breathe in the smell of his cologne, his bodywash. For the few minutes you’re on the back of his bike, there is only you and him in the universe.

It always ends a second sooner than you remember it should, and it makes you wonder if he’s riding faster or if you’re too eager. He shakes out his helmet hair and helps you off the bike like a proper gentleman, rare for someone as unruly as Wolf Keum.

“Thanks.” You say, and peer at him through your lashes, batting them slowly. You’re feeling cold and emboldened tonight, so you’re hoping he’ll take the bait.

He reaches out, long fingers brushing aside your windswept hair. He traces your jaw and it feels like home, like victory, like you’ve almost got him where you want him.

The warm lights of your house illuminate his face softly and silhouettes his more angular, predatory features. It brings out the Wolf Keum you know and you yearn to keep him like this forever, away from the bloody knuckles and broken bones that make him so sharp to hold.

“Do you want to come in?”

His eyes are calm, barely a trace of emotion save for keen interest. You pray to all the gods that he’ll come in just this once, after so many nights of being left empty handed. For a second, you think the heavens have heard you when he misses his cue to shake his head like every other time. His hesitation is dizzying, and the adrenaline that pumps through you overpowers even the motorbike ride.

He ponders for just a second too long, and his phone rings.

It snaps both of you out of the reverie. From where you stand, you can see the caller ID. Donald Na.

Wolf turns away and takes a step towards his bike to pick up the call. You can’t help the hand that goes out after him. When he looks back to you, he gestures to his phone.

“Maybe later.” He mouths.

And you smile and nod, because that’s what you always do. You watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets on the bike, idle chatter falling from his lips and into the receiver. When he drives away, the exhaust from his bike billows behind him and clouds your vision with smoke. You return home without knowing if he’d waved goodbye.

It’s a temperate day when you speak to him next.

You’re sitting in the park waiting for Wolf, shaded by trees and warmed by the sun. You’ve left the remainders of your croissant on the floor and it’s become a meal for a flurry of pigeons, cooing and flocking by our feet. An ant crawls up to your sneaker, confused with the obstruction. You’re entertained by it’s strange dancing for a few moments before a shadow crosses your vision.

“Hey.” He says.

You smile. “Hey yourself.”

He exhales through his nose in a manner that you assume is amusement.

You pat the seat next to you and he eases himself onto it, stretching out his legs and sending some pigeons head-bobbing awkwardly away from him.

Mindlessly, you note that he’s abandoned his blazer today, opting to tie it around his waist instead.

Birds chirp overhead and the grass tickles your ankles. There’s the sound of children laughing and the rushing of a fountain a ways from you.

He’s relaxed. You can tell from the way he’s kicking his feet.

You peek at where his hands are and notice that they’re close enough to feel his warmth, but don’t miss the bandages on his knuckles and forearms.

“You’ve been busy?” You ask. You pretend it’s a joke but it’s not actually.

He raises his arm and regards it as if it doesn’t break your heart to see him like this. “This? It’s nothing. Some shithead thought using a pocket-knife would hold us off.”

Something in your chest twists.

“That’s funny.”

He hums in agreement and you want to choke him for it.

You let the sounds of the park ease your mind and his. Wonder silently if there’s even a point to all of this heartache, this outlandish game of who-gives-less-fucks anymore.

Beside you, Wolf leans back and lets the sunlight wash over his face, his neck, his chest.

His eyes are closed, but you can see his eyelids fluttering slightly, like he wants to look into the sun but the brightness scares him. His messy lavender hair sweeps over his forehead and spills over his ears, just brushing the nape of his neck with soft curls. It’s nearly concealed, but you can see a faint line of a scar peeking out at you. Just past his adams apple, trailing upwards to his jaw. When he first got it, he refused to say where or how it had happened, but you’d be a fool to not know only metal and gems cut so deep.

This isn’t the only scar he adorns. You’ve memorized the marks he has lining his body like constellations; switchblade starry sky and cigarette burn borealis. In the sun, you can see the endless expanse of marks on his skin like a splatter of cursed stars. There’s far too many for you to count, so you turn away and rest your eyes.

It remains like this for a moment longer, but then he says something that surprises you.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your head snaps towards him, blink and situate yourself further in your seat, wondering if you had somehow fallen asleep and wandered into a dream.

Wolf nods once and the action is slow, like he’s still churning the words in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Everything about this situation is... Strange.”

He picks up a hand and gazes at it, brows furrowed. He clenches a fist and unclenches it, turning it this way and that in the light of the sun.

“But say I do leave, right? Then what will I have left to do? My school life is shot, and no one dares to approach me.”

He drops his hand and looks at the clouds rolling lazily over the blue sky.

“If I leave, what will I have left?”

You almost want to laugh, almost want to cry, or maybe do both at the same time. You want to ask him if he remembers who is speaking to at all, but you cannot find the courage.

Suddenly, he looks in your direction and that peaceful yet painful moment is over. A strange look crosses his face and you can feel him tensing, back becoming just a bit straighter.

As you turn, the sound of a hundred of flapping wings taking off meets your ears. The shadows of pigeons in flight scatter across grass and the park path, crossing over the figures approaching briefly before ascending skyward.

The first foot to emerge from the shadows belongs to a tall blond hair with sharp eyes, followed by three or so other men.

You stare, but he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Keum, didn’t expect to see you in this part of Yeongduengpo.”

Wolf remains reticent. You look at him but he won’t take his eyes off of Donald.

Donald raises a hand to gesture to Wolf and you don’t miss the way his silver rings glint in the midday sun, all precious metal and shining gemstone. When he speaks, it’s almost a hiss.

“Come, I have last week’s reports to discuss with you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you, but you can hear him swallow thickly.

Donald begins to stroll again, the men beside him following suit. As he passes Wolf, he fails to even regard you and it makes you feel tiny.

A second passes as he holds his gaze with Wolf, it’s a challenge to disobey and it’s not at all unfamiliar to you. Those dreary nights Wolf has spent with you, both a man and a husk of a man, is because of Donald Na. It is within this essential and excruciating second that his behavior either becomes normal or abnormal, dictates whether he steeps deeper into that endless black sea or fights amidst the raging storm.

In this second, you hope he remembers himself, hope he remembers you. Those endless nights you’ve spent picking up pieces of his shattered self, putting him back together and brushing over the cracks with adoration. Those endless nights you’ve spent despairing for him, for yourself, for all the tears you’ve cried when trying to convince yourself this won’t get any better.

You hope that he proves you wrong this one time, hope that in his heart, he knows he’ll always have you.

But when you feel him pull his hand from yours, you already understand his answer.

You’re acquainted with this sensation in your throat, this burning in the back of your eyes. It’s made a home in your heart, barren since the day you ever laid eyes on Wolf Keum.

Still, a final flame of hope flickers within you.

You grab his hand just before he’s out of reach. When he looks back, he’s all sharp teeth and hard eyes but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Can we…” You want to speak, but your tongue feels leaden and dry. “Can we speak about this soon?”

Wolf’s face remains the blasé, brows set in a furrow and lips downturned into just the slightest scowl.

To a passerby who wasn’t looking for signs, he may seem apathetic, annoyed, even. But you were no passerby. For Wolf Keum, you’d always be willing. Waiting. Watching. For a glance, for a flutter, for anything that meant you hadn’t been the only one foolishly in love the entire time.

And for a second, you think he regards you with a gleam in his eye, something that resembles sorrow, or regret, or anything else that may ease the stale aching of your heart. But when he opens his mouth, it’s that same damning line again, that empty promise that keeps you stumbling in darkness for a trace of salvation.

“Maybe later.”

It will only ever be Wolf Keum that you allow yourself to be swindled by every time. You promise yourself this. Release his hand, or he pulls it away from you. You cannot tell which came first.

“I understand.” You say, heart breaking again.

You never will.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #seongji geum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

116 notes · View notes

slashscowboyboots · 4 years

Text

The Stars Are a Part Of Us: The Brains Of This Outfit

This my “Almost Famous” inspired groupie fic, with appearances by @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands (Celestia/Alessia), @sexcoffeeandrockandroll (Absinthe/Amy) and @no-stone-no-bone (Velvet), plus yours truly as Karen. This is a pretty dark fic, with VERY mature themes and smut. Cross-posted on AO3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence. 18+ ONLY

1987

This must be her.

Izzy sat up straighter, watching as a short blonde shuffled toward the back of the bus, a huge bag on her shoulder and carrying a pillow in her arms. She didn’t notice him sitting in the next to the last seat, and she flopped down on the one behind him, setting down her pillow and leaning against it, then rifling through her purse till she found a book.

Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all. She certainly was pretty, he thought, with her long blonde waves and huge blue eyes. She dressed like Stevie Nicks’ runaway progeny too, all ruffles and lace and faded jeans, although instead of Stevie’s platforms she wore a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots.

I’ve never seen a groupie play hard to get, he chuckled to himself. She must be something else. Watching her turn a page, he noticed her full lips pursing as she read the text. He couldn’t make out what the title was, but he could see a long-haired bare-chested hunk and a bosomy babe spilling out of her bodice in a passionate clinch on the cover.

Oh, shit, she’s reading romance novels. Probably wants me to seduce her.

Izzy didn’t think he was quite up to that.

87 had been rough on him so far. Getting busted on a possessions charge (thankfully, it hadn’t included a “with an intent to sell,” although that had been exactly his intention), sentenced to rehab and now on probation, with orders he continue to be piss tested on the road.

It was a miracle he was allowed to leave the country, but his lawyer (who was far too good to be in his pay scale, Izzy noted) argued that his client’s ability to earn a living shouldn’t be hampered by his arrest. (The fact that his paying profession had led to his arrest wasn’t lost on him either.) To his amazement, the judge had agreed, and Geffen, desperate to recoup their investment and make a little scratch before the band killed themselves, sent them with The Cult on a tour of Canadian hockey rinks. Woo hoo.

Just before the tour started, he and Niv were approached in a shitty dive by a curvy brunette introducing herself as Absinthe and claiming she was one of the Road Wives.

“Heard of us?” she asked, coyly batting her eyelashes.

Izzy took a sip from his Coke and nodded. Yes, he’d heard of all of them. The Flying Garter Girls, the GTO’s, the Road Wives. All conglomerates of groupies who traveled with bands and made life on the road even more colorful and chaotic.

“Of course you have. It’s an honor to travel with the Wives.”

Izzy rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke from his nose. “And you’ve selected us, I suppose.”

Absinthe smiled, the contrast of her crimson pout with her white teeth and skin visible even in the dim light. “We have. Our leader Velvet has chosen Axl as her traveling companion.”

Niven smirked, and Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Has this already been decided?” he said quietly.

Those red lips formed a tight line. “No. Axl said to take this up with you. ‘Izzy has the final word,’ he said.”

He took another drag, and she leaped at the opportunity to speak. “There’s uhh, four of us, and Celestia has picked Slash, and I,” she smiled, and Izzy swore he saw devil horns poke out of her dark hair, “I settle down with no man, but I’ve spent time with your drummer and won’t mind repeating that experience.”

He flicked his ash from his cigarette, bored disinterest on his unsmiling face. “And Duff is married.”

She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, Duff is engaged, and has cordially informed us he will not require our services. Shame, there’s a tree I’d like to climb again and again.”

Izzy lit a new cigarette with the end of the first one and ground the butt out, then leaned forward on the table and said, “Shame, because I say no to the whole shooting match.”

The whites of her black-lined eyes became enormous. “Wait, you haven’t heard who’s with you.”

“I don’t care who’s with me,” he said, in a quiet but firm voice. “I’m on fucking probation and I don’t need any more headaches. And I damn sure don’t need four chicks we have to babysit.”

“Hear her out,” Niven snickered. “I gotta hear about the whore that wants you.”

Absinthe licked the front of her teeth. “Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all,” she said softly.

Izzy shook his head. “Nope. I’m not traveling with anyone fucked up or underage.”

“She’s 21. And she blows a gasket over drugs.”

Niven elbowed Izzy. “She sounds right up your alley, mate.”

Izzy shifted in his seat, rolling the end of his cigarette in the ashtray as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“She and I went to school together, and we’re older than the other girls. We keep them in line. They will not cause you any problems on the road. You have my word.”

Izzy slid his eyes to Alan, who shrugged. “Canada’s cold, Izz.”

Absinthe smiled.

He still wasn’t convinced. “She doesn’t use? Cause I’ve never heard of a groupie who didn’t.”

She shook her head. “Reads us the riot act if we do. She smokes weed every now and then, but I don’t even think she’s done that in the last six months.” She batted her eyes, sensing his interest. “Drinks the occasional beer, but she’s normally our DD.”

Izzy sighed, then downed the last of his Coke. “All right. One fuckup, and I don’t care what it is, if one of you broads even breaks a nail, your asses are heading home. Put that in the tour budget Niv, four bus tickets back to LA if any of them get the hiccups.” He stood up. “I’m not joking.”

No, a seduction was not something he was up to. Maybe a quick fuck when the bus got dark, if she loosened up a little. Normally, groupies sucked you off as a way of saying hello, but this one had tromped on past him and buried her nose in a book.

Honey, is that any way to welcome your man?

He leaned over the bus seat, carefully studying her. She wore a moonstone ring on one hand, a crystal ball set in a pair of hands ring on the other one, and gigantic sparkly hoop earrings. He didn’t especially understand this Stevie Nicks fixation, but if memory served, she’d fucked her way through Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles, so as long as Rhiannon here didn’t wear a chastity belt, it was fine by him.

He tilted his head and asked, “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

Her eyes darted up from her page, then back down. “Hi.”

He had another great view of the top of her head. “Is this any way to act?”

She turned a page, her eyes not leaving her book. “I wasn’t aware I was a bother.”

Since Izzy’s arrest, patience was not something he had large reserves of. “Are you really going to do this?” he snapped.

Her eyes met his then, and he had a second to register how long her eyelashes were before he realized how irritated she was. “Do WHAT, may I ask?” she growled, her voice hard.

Izzy was thrown, but he shrugged it off. Maybe this is foreplay to her. “Why aren’t you in my lap right now? Daddy’s had a rough day.”

She went completely, utterly still, then asked, “What?”

A little voice in his head (something he heard much more frequently now that he was sober) told him something was off, but he blurted, “You’re my whore and I shouldn’t have to beg you to blow me.”

He watched her cheeks flush, then the sides of her neck, and he belatedly realized that this was someone you didn’t piss off. To his relief, she didn’t reach into her purse, but instead slammed her book shut and gritted, “Who told you I was your whore?”

“Well, I see you two have met,” Absinthe said, smiling as she sat down next to her.

“She did,” Izzy said, tipping his chin up, not taking his eyes off the blonde.

“Amy Louise, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” She glanced up at Izzy. “Are you telling people I’m ‘Bella Donna the wonder groupie’ again?” Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Because you know how much I hate that.”

“Ahh,” Absinthe answered, “well, possibly. But you really should get to know Izzy.”

Her eyes darted back to him. “I’m good,” she snapped. “I think I know all I need to know.”

“What’s the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

“It means what you think it means.” She turned to Absinthe. “You are going to stop calling me ‘Bella Donna’ or I am going to make you stop. You got that?”

“Yes.” Shoulders slumping, Absinthe stood up and walked back to the front of the bus.

Izzy watched as the blonde laid her forehead on her palm, then reached into her bag and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. She looked up at him. “Did you get that, Hoss?” she said in a tired voice. “I’m not ‘Bella Donna,’ and I’m definitely not your whore.”

He nodded, then a small voice said, “Sissy? Is that my Sissy?” A younger girl with brown hair sat down next to her, and she immediately hugged her, then laid her head on her shoulder.

“I love you, Sis,” the younger girl said.

“I love you, too, Celly Belly.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Izzy.”

“Hi, Izzy, I’m Celestia.”

“Hi.”

“Izzy, this is my sister, Karen.”

“We’ve met,” Karen said icily.

“Why don’t you like him? He’s cute.”

Karen looked at her sister in horror. “He’s a drug dealer.”

“Former,” Izzy said.

“And a junkie.”

“Also former.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Nope, she left me when I went to rehab. For another guitarist with better drugs.”

“He’s cute. You should bang him.”

“Celestia. That’s not why you sleep with people.”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia and Izzy said in unison.

Karen rolled her eyes. “That’s not why I sleep with people.”

“Have you talked to Steve?” Celestia asked.

Karen breathed out a sigh. “No, not since he took up with that model. Catriona.”

“Steve is an idiot,” Celestia said, lighting up a cigarette. “I heard their record is multi platinum.”

“Yeah, they brought Mutt back.” Karen said. “When you sell that many records, that’s when the models show up.”

“Yeah.” Celestia blew out a plume of smoke. “Did you bring your hat?”

Karen crossed her arms and slumped in her seat. “Yeah.”

“Yay!” Celestia squeezed her. “ I know you don’t want to be ‘Bella Donna’ anymore, but I love it when you are.” She looked up at Izzy, who was still watching them. “I bet he could make you forget Steve.”

“I’m good.” Karen tightened her arms and scowled.

“Sissy, please be nice to Izzy.”

“Why?”

“Because I really like Slash. And Izzy will make us go home if we don’t behave.”

Karen looked at Izzy, then Celestia. “You really want to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Celestia?” a voice called. “Baby, where are you?”

Celestia said, “I gotta go. I love you, Sis.”

“Here,” Karen said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of condoms. “Don’t fuck him without one. I don’t want any more doctor’s visits.”

Celestia tucked them inside her waistband of her microshorts, then kissed Karen’s cheek. “I’m not going to get in trouble again, I promise.” As she stood up, she smiled at Izzy, then squealed, “Slashy!”

Izzy lit a cigarette and smirked at Karen. “Well, that was just absolutely fucking touching, but you twats are hitting the pavement the first stop we make.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “That girl is 16. Velvet is 17. And you’re planning to take them into another country to have sex with them, which the last time I looked was a criminal act.”

“Not if we dump your asses out before we hit the border.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not. I’m on probation and I don’t need this bullshit.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that. You do realize any of these girls, myself included, though I wouldn’t, can at any time say, ‘He raped me?’ ‘He hit me?’ Now for anyone else in this band, that would be any given Tuesday, but for you? You have a lot more to lose.”

Izzy’s eyes widened.

“I mean, Absinthe told you I was your whore, and obviously that’s not true. We’re liable to say just anything.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling a chill run down his back.

“Where are we stopping anyway? McDonald’s? There’s always a cop there with nothing to do. Maybe he’ll have time for a damsel in distress.”

Izzy swallowed. “What do you want?” he gritted, knowing she had the upper hand.

“You can show us ‘twats’ a little respect, for starters.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he spat. “Your ass is chapped because I was a dealer.”

“Hoss, don’t make me play my ace. Cause I have four of them, and I ain’t on probation.”

He ground his molars together. “What else?”

“We stay, and you provide us with basic human necessities. A place to sleep, food, and shelter.”

“And?”

“Take us backstage.”

“That’s a given.”

She shrugged.

“Then what?”

“Then your band runs around with empty balls and everyone is happy happy happy. ‘Cept you, you’re on your own with that.” She crossed her arms. “And I make sure no one is a headache. You’ll never know we’re here.”

“Can I believe you?”

She directly met his gaze. “Yes.”

“How do I know that?”

“I’m not a liar. I’ve been honest about everything so far.”

Why didn’t I meet you first? It would’ve saved a shitload of time. “Why are you here?” he snapped.

“Because your band has a body count, Stradlin.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Todd Crew. Slash shot him up, did he not?”

Izzy took a deep breath. “He says he didn’t.”

“Do you believe that?”

“What I believe is none of your fucking business.”

“I heard he did, and Todd died in his arms.”

Izzy lit a cigarette and looked away. “We, ah, we were all gutted when he died.”

“Well, my baby sister is sleeping with Slash, and I want to make sure that is an isolated incident.”

Izzy took a drag. “It is. None of us are on smack anymore. Slash just drinks now, and I can’t do fucking anything.”

Karen met his eyes. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely swayed by your testimony.”

He shrugged. Even though she was judgmental and unforgiving, he could see where she was coming from. If he had a sister, he’d shit himself if she took up with Slash. Or any of them.

She must be the brains of this outfit. She hates us all.

Karen shot him one final filthy look, then dug a Walkman out of her purse and closed her eyes, resolutely shutting him out.

Izzy sighed, then his eyes landed a few seats ahead of him. Duff had pledged undying fidelity to his fiancee and planned on recreationally drinking instead of fucking, and had already passed out cold, snoring loudly against the window.

I don’t have that option, Izzy bitterly thought. It wasn’t even that he wanted to drink or raise hell anymore. His rehab stint had opened his eyes to how close he’d skated to the edge, and just when he felt like he’d finally made it back to the land of the living, Todd had fallen into the abyss.

There’d also been the unspoken question, Is Slash going to be charged with murder? The band had closed ranks and called all the lawyers, and in the end, no one was indicted. Guns was already on thin ice for Axl and Slash’s separate arrests for statutory rape, and Izzy’s incarceration was the final straw. The brass at Geffen was adamant: One more strike, boys, and your asses are done.

He titled his chin up and blew out a plume of smoke. He hadn’t had many plans for this tour, but he had expected to spend it in the arms of a submissive woman. Sex hadn’t been forbidden by the terms of his probation, not yet anyway, and he’d been, well, enchanted by the idea of a babe who didn’t get fucked up and yet was enthusiastic to do his bidding in the sack. He could slap himself now for believing such a creature even existed.

He stole a glance at Karen, whose head had slumped forward. Even in her sleep, she looked weary, beautiful but worn out. He realized now, if Absinthe’s description was right, she was just a nice girl looking after her sister, and Celestia’s taste in men must be exhausting if Slash was any indication. Izzy felt his ears growing hot as he thought about how aggressively he’d approached her, even though he’d been promised she was a sure thing. Demanding she immediately hop on his dick wasn’t what he considered finesse.

Fuck, how am I going to get laid now? That thought was punctuated by a hushed moan from Slash, and Izzy wanted to pound his head against the seat in front of him. He’d just have to hope that somehow Canadian groupies were very willing yet went to church frequently.

Damn, woman, you’re sure you won’t change your mind about me? I can be romantic if you want me to.

Can’t do much about me being a dealer though. That ship already sailed.

He heard Karen stirring behind him, and turned to watch her stretch out and cover herself with a blanket. Since he expected to be wrapped in her arms, Izzy had packed away his own covers, so he buttoned his denim jacket and crossed his arms, sleep mercifully arriving quickly.

#izzy stradlin x oc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x oc #guns n roses fanfic

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter 2 - Villain Attack

Jasonette July Day 3

Masterlist

Marinette had thought that her years of being Rena Rogue would have improved Alya’s need for documenting dangerous situations, or at the very least her impulse control. As much as she loved her best friend, she was beginning to sincerely regret being cajoled into going to Gotham, of all places. A part of her couldn’t help but speculate whether of not Alya had been hoping that they’d end up in Crime Alley.

Jason was an unexpected bonus to their trip, though. None of them were quite sure what to think of the native Gothamite, but he did make an excellent tour guide. He was attentive, and surprisingly knowledgeable about the city’s history. Although he initially came off as angry and intimidating, he was also witty and attentive, especially to Marinette.

Okay, he was also hot. Like, absurdly hot. While Adrien was attractive, Jason was… Marinette didn’t know what words she could possibly use to describe just how broad his shoulders were, or how defined those muscles seemed. At one point he hugged her into his (very firm) chest so an inattentive biker didn’t hit her while they were crossing the street. She was grateful that he took the time to cuss them out, or he would have seen her face as red as her Ladybug suit. At another point when he took off his jacket and she saw his arms, she nearly choked on her spit.

She was dangerously close to relapsing into the Marinette of her teenage years, and that was the singularly worst outcome she could picture. Something about Jason made her feel… safe, protected.

The first day of their acquaintance with Jason was blessedly uneventful. Marinette was a little sad to bid him goodbye for good, but when he dropped them off at their hotel, he asked, “So what time should I be here tomorrow?”

A blush crept up Marinette’s face. “You don’t have to do that, really. We don’t want to bore you–“

He met her eyes, his own piercing. He was evaluating her, and based on his smirk, he liked what he saw. “I’ll be here at ten.” Jason raised a massive, strong hand to brush an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. “Gotham would eat you up, and we can’t have that.”

When he stepped away, Marinette almost collapsed on the spot. She knew her face was flaming red, but she managed to stammer, “W-Well, we’re going to have breakfast at the bakery just down the block at seven, but we’ll definitely be back by ten.”

“I guess that’s safe enough,” Jason said with that same smirk. “But no more wandering around Gotham, you got it?”

“S-Sure.”

Even though he had just vacated her personal space just a second ago, he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. “Sleep well, sweetcheeks.”

He left them standing in the hotel lobby, Marinette completely frozen. Before the boys could do or say anything, Alya grabbed her hand in an iron grip and hauled her up two flights of stairs to the room the two of them were sharing.

“What was that?” Alya demanded, closing the door with a bang.

Still dazed, Marinette collapsed onto the bed. “What was that?”

“Do you suddenly have a thing for bad boys now? I just… and how did we bump into him? He’s like the buffest man on the planet.”

“He called me sweetcheeks. Is that a good thing?” Marinette mumbled.

“Marinette, focus,” Alya said, shaking her best friend. “I’m worried.”

Finally Marinette made eye contact. “But he’s safe. He protected us.”

Emerging from her purse, Tikki settled on Alya’s head. “Marinette, I don’t think that’s what Alya is talking about.”

Sitting up, infinitely more level-headed than moments earlier, Marinette smiled softly, eyes holding a depth of sadness that should have been unfair for a twenty-year-old. “I know that nothing will happen between the two of us, we fly back to Paris in five days. But I just… I just want to be a normal girl for a week. I was fine with coming to Gotham because it meant I had a week to just be Marinette, not Ladybug, not MDC. For once I just want to let myself get caught up in my emotions – and if I end up hurt, that’s fine, because it means I’m allowed to feel again.”

Tikki and Alya shared glances with each other before Tikki spoke. “I guess I can understand that. But are you sure you can handle whatever happens, Marinette?”

“I’m a big girl, Tikki.”

“Besides, did you see those biceps? That alone almost makes up for anything he might do,” Alya said, fanning herself.

********

When morning rolled around, Marinette was the only one awake. Even Tikki was worn out from staying up entirely too late giggling about Jason and embarrassing Marinette with Alya’s help. Used to helping in the bakery every morning since she’d graduated, the lack of sleep was nothing to Marinette when she rolled out of bed and tied her hair up as per usual.

She was a little nervous about walking around Gotham alone, but Jason had dubbed this a safe part of town, and it was just at the end of the block. Her phone and her wallet were safely secured to her person, so she couldn’t be pick-pocketed either. Besides, even if something did happen, she had been Ladybug for years. Even without being transformed, Marinette had developed a number of self-defense skills on her own. It would be fine.

Getting to the bakery was no problem because, as previously stated, it was only a block away. The streets were fairly empty, and the weather was pleasant. She’d heard that Gotham was almost always storming, but she had yet to see any of that.

The bread was still warm in the bakery. Marinette was mostly curious about the differences between French and American bakeries, and she knew her parents were expecting a full report of any special items.

It didn’t seem like there was anything too different about the bakery except the various vigilante inspired pastries, and Marinette refused to bring that up – she didn’t need to see Ladybug bread everywhere she went. They actually had a far smaller selection than she was used to, but she’d heard that that was to be expected in America.

She ordered a bit of everything, and after deliberating a bit, she ordered a few extra Red Hood donuts. They were vaguely gun-shaped and filled with raspberry jelly. It seemed like the sort of thing that Jason would find amusing, and if not, there were plenty of other things for him to choose from and Adrien and Nino wouldn’t complain.

Piled high with pastries and breads, Marinette left the bakery humming to herself. Bags swung f rom her arms as she skipped a few feet until she froze, an ominous feeling creeping up her spine.

Crouching in a nearby alley, Marinette looked out at the street for a sign of what had her on edge like this. Sure enough, only seconds later a roar shook the streets, and a villain she recognized as Killer Croc barrelled his way through, jaws snapping.

Marinette’s eyes widened when she noticed he was clearly heading straight for the alley she’d ducked into. Too late she noticed the open manhole cover just a few feet behind her. The telltale sound of vigilantes pursuing the mutant were enough to spur her into action.

Unwilling to put down the food, Marinette kicked the manhole cover back in place – it would slow Croc down for a few seconds. He was still about fifty meters away, causing mass panic on the street. Desperately hoping that the wheels were unlocked – and surprisingly gratified, Marinette body checked the nearby dumpster, shoving it right on top of the manhole. Without her Ladybug suit, this was the most she could safely do. Bolting to the nearest building’s fire escape, Marinette hauled herself up the ladder as quickly as she could without smashing the bags of food.

Killer Croc wasn’t far behind her, and when he saw the covered manhole, he bellowed. Marinette started moving more haphazardly as she clambered up, desperate to reach safety. It was only a metal ladder within a foot of most windows, and it was only anchored by a handful of bolts every few feet of the ladder.

Her hand slipped when Killer Croc roared beneath her, catching sight of her handiwork. A neatly wrapped pastry fell out of one of the violently swinging bags, bopping the reptile on the head.

“This was you!” he growled. “If the Bats are going to catch me then I may as well take you with me.”

Scaled hands grasped one of the bottom rungs. Marinette did all she could to haul herself up the ladder faster, but it was a thirteen-story building – making it to the top was sounding less likely by the minute. She would have leapt into one of the nearby windows if she weren’t convinced that it would end in a paranoid Gothamite taking her out before Killer Croc could do the job.

Metal groaned as the reptilian man wrenched the bolts out of the very brick they’d been anchored in. The ladder shook, and Marinette screamed as the section she clung to was ripped from the wall, leaving her stuck between a structurally questionable ladder, and a very pissed off crocodile.

“Going so soon? Our playdate was just getting fun.”

Marinette could have sobbed when she saw Nightwing enter the alleyway, flanked by Red Robin and Red Hood. In a deep voice, Red Hood said, “You two take down Croc, I’ve got the girl.”

The other two looked surprised, but conceded easily enough. While Killer Croc was distracted by the vigilantes, Marinette moved even faster up the ladder – she only had three flights to go before she was at the roof, but the ladder was shaking like it would fall at any second, and she really didn’t want to find out what that would do to her and the pastries.

She vaguely registered that Red Hood was demanding someone’s something hook, but Marinette’s sheer panic was lessening her grasp on the English language by the second. With his loudest growl yet, Killer Croc wrenched the ladder free of the building. Marinette screamed, her stomach clenching with dread as she released the ladder, trying to curl her body in a way that she hopefully wouldn’t break anything upon impact.

Something whistled through the air, and before Marinette could hit the ground she collided with something – a man, who wrapped an arm around her. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, but Marinette opened them to find herself face-to-face with the abomination that was Red Hood’s mask, but for the moment she could forgive the fashion crime.

He kicked off of the brick wall, giving them some distance from the ladder before it fell with a glorious clang. Marinette’s heart finally started beating, hammering in her chest as the vigilante slowly lowered them down to the ground.

When she finally forced herself to look, the other two had Killer Croc pinned and trussed up like a pig. Nightwing waved, smiling brighter than Marinette thought was allowed from someone who lived in Gotham. “The manhole cover and the dumpster? Brilliant move, we never would have caught him if he’d been able to get into the sewers. You made some risky moves, but I can tell they were calculated. Nicely done!”

Safely on the ground, Red Hood was examining her for any injuries. Clearly irked, he growled, “Since when are we encouraging civilians to jump into the middle of this sh-“

“Hood, she would have been involved one way or another just because of where she was standing,” Nightwing interrupted. “She saw us coming, and she just did a few things to slow him down while doing her best to keep herself safe. What’s up with you? Normally you’d be high-fiving a civilian for something like that.”

“Whatever,” Red Hood mumbled. “I’m escorting her to make sure she gets to wherever she’s going safely. Make sure the lizard doesn’t get away.”

Taglist:

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3

Note:

I got a couple questions about this being a Mominette fic - it is, just not yet. This one is going to be a lot different from I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face and I am stoked to see how you guys like it! If you want to be tagged in future chapters, just leave a comment, and once again, blow up Jasonette July! I’m super excited to see what everyone else has to say and write!

#maribat #jasonette july 2k20 #jasonette #jason x marinette #mominette

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tcookies777 · 3 years

Text

Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - What He's Looking For

About 17 years ago on a sunny September day...

They'd raised the prices on the gum again. Under normal circumstances, Kakashi would've thought that was absurd. Really, 4 ryos for a few sticks of gum with a strawberry flavor that would last for only—what?—fifty chews? But it was also understandable given that the war efforts required such generous financial contributions. Money didn't grow on trees and soldiers didn't come back to life. It was to be expected that the economy would tank during war, but looking at the propaganda posters, anyone would think Fire country was thriving. It was the exact opposite, however, and the high inflation, budget deficits, rise in taxes, and reduced consumption of goods only proved that. So he was loathed to think that he would have to waste a couple of ryo on a pack of gum, but he also wanted to support the soldiers on the frontlines.

With a sigh of defeat, he snatched the pack of gum off the stand before traipsing further down the store in search of his journey's main quest item. There wasn't really much supply to offer these days, and even less food to fill the shelves. But Kakashi wasn't here today to buy some bread or milk, so he had no need to worry about that. All he needed to worry about was looking for the right condoms. And as he entered the aisle of pleasure to peruse his selection for the day, his presence did not go by without notice from a nearby clerk. It was not entirely unusual to see a boy in this aisle, but the clerk had certainly not anticipated that the purpose of the boy's presence here was for contraception. Perhaps he thought the boy was buying for his father, or maybe even an older friend—which, technically, Kakashi suppose he was. But the clerk seemed adamant in keeping his eye on him and Kakashi did his best to ignore him. There was also the possibility that the guy thought he was a shoplifter. After all, despite the clean way Kakashi dressed in his slim dark jeans and olive shirt, he did have the rugged gaze of a kid who'd been beaten up by life but was now ready to fight back. That, and the apathetic darkness in his eyes tended to disturb adults whenever they encountered a kid who was too young to look at them like they were the ones who were younger.

Although, to be fair with the clerk, there had been an increase in theft and street crime ever since the war had started, so Kakashi didn't blame the guy for dogging after him up and down the aisle.

"Uh, hi…?"

The words came muffled through Kakashi's headphones. With a heavy sigh, he slowly reached up and tugged the headphones down to let them rest on his shoulders, but the music continued to blare loudly through both sides of the speakers. The clerk's brow twitched when the boy in front of him still didn't even spare him a glance.

A throat was cleared, and then, "Hi?"

Finally turning to meet the annoyed face of the man, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at him. "Yes, I heard you the first time."

The clerk's brows twitched harder and he shuffled a step closer, still not quite sure how to approach him or maybe the subject before them. "Uh, did you need help finding anything today?" he asked in a peppy voice, remembering to plaster his customer-service smile back on.

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

The clerk blinked at him. "P-Pardon?"

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

Realizing the boy wasn't joking, the guy's face reddened and he stammered, "I-I-I do-don't know!"

Hmm, pity. "Then I guess you can't help me," Kakashi sighed out, wandering further down the aisle to let the guy lick his wounds.

Ignoring the aghast look cast his way, Kakashi studied a box of condoms that were of various colors and various tropical flavors including strawberry, apple, orange, banana, and—oh!—even cherry. If his suspicions were correct, however, he doubted anyone would appreciate a cherry-flavored condom that tasted more medicinal than fruity. Still, maybe Sakae wouldn't care. She'd always had a wicked tongue that could handle the taste of anything, which Kakashi had learned when she'd swallowed down his cum like she was sucking up the last dregs of a vanilla milkshake.

But Kakashi set down the box and picked up the standard, ultra-fine lubricated condoms instead.

Tonight, he didn't plan to get another blowjob in the back of an abandoned lot. Tonight was meant to be the first lay of his life if he played all his cards right, which he'd had no problem doing so in the past few weeks since the night of his birthday when Sakae had taken him into the backyard to give him his first kiss. Even if the kiss had happened through his mask, she'd liked it enough to guide his hand to her generous breasts which he'd always taken the time to admire during dinners when she'd eat across him with her breasts resting on the edge of the table so that he could study the way a stray crumb would disappear down the same cleavage he often dreamt of burying his face in. And then the week after that, he'd guided her hand to cup him through his jeans, encouraging her to slip that hand down his pants and fist his cock well enough to make him burst into the cage of her fingers. The next week, it was her turn to guide his hand down her shorts too.

It should have left him quivering with trepidation when he'd slipped his finger inside her the first time, hearing her cry out either from pain or pleasure or both. Instead, Kakashi had felt no sense of fear or anxiety—or anything, really, save for the sense of satisfaction and curiosity as he explored the velvet insides of a girl for the first time. His fingers had to have been good enough if it eventually had Sakae collapsing against him, shaking and whimpering as if she was in pain but smiling like she enjoyed it. And so it was last week when Kakashi had to tug his mask back on and pull his face out from between her legs to ask if she could repeat what she'd just said.

'If you can get your hands on a condom, I'll do it with you.'

'Do what?' he'd asked her, her orgasm staining the thin cloth of his mask.

'Sex,' she'd purred in his ear, just as he'd expected.

And so in Kakashi's young but precocious mind, of course it only made sense that he would obey the lady's wishes—as well as his own—and seek out the item of his quest. As it was now, he tossed the box of condoms in his hand much like he would as if he was a character from a video game doing a little victory jig, tossing his trophy in a show of smug triumph.

But because it was still too early in the noon to return to the orphanage and catch Mrs. Matsuda breathing fire out her mouth with more bitching, he took a turn into the next aisle full of baby diapers. The efflorescent smell of baby wipes assaulted his nose, sweet as a baby's bum and much to odoriferous for Kakashi's tastes. Then again, he'd always despised the pungent chemicals of perfume. However, the stray pug in the alley across school was in desperate need of diapers since his crippled hind legs always trailed right through his own filth and feces, and Kakashi had grown tired of bathing the old dog daily with a neighbor's sort-of borrowed hose.

In the midst of studying the difference between 'disposable diapers' and 'disposable underwear', Kakashi was indifferent to the cart that rolled up near him just a respectable foot away. At the background of his thoughts regarding the expensive cons of disposable underwear, a woman's voice spoke aloud, her words lashing out with the venomous bite of anger. She wasn't speaking to him, of course, since he definitely had nothing to do with the 'sorry piece of sods who didn't know a leaf from a ryo bill'.

Inclined to give her a wide berth and let the lady yell into the phone without breaking his left eardrum, Kakashi sidled over a step or two. Apparently, it wasn't enough distance, however, as he felt something bump the side of his left sneaker.

He peered down from the disposable diapers and to the stuffed sloth that had somehow ended up against his shoe. Picking it up, he frowned at the sloth that was barely the size of his one hand. Just then his nose wrinkled at the scent that permeated from the stuffed toy—milk that seemed to have been churned up in the stomach and spat back out. Nose still wrinkled, he quickly adjusted his grip so that it was only his finger and thumb that pinched the ear of the sloth.

A quiet cooing sound quickly stole his attention away and to the side where a baby in a cart stared curiously at him. She was dressed in a hideous tuft of pink that nearly swallowed her whole with two chubby little feet poking out from beneath.

Kakashi glimpsed at the woman who was still berating whoever the poor soul was on the other end of the phone. Her back was turned, and she'd taken too many steps away from the child in her cart to notice Kakashi approaching the babe.

Sure enough, she smelled like milk and baby wipes. But there was also another softer, more subtle sweet scent beneath. Not quite aromatic like perfume, but it clung to her gently as if someone's perfume might've rubbed off on her rosy, chubby cheeks after one too many kisses or cuddles. Or maybe she'd just gone rolling down a hill of flowers—cherry blossoms, it smelled like—for all he knew. He didn't know what babies did in their free time besides piss, poop, and play anyway.

"Here," Kakashi muttered quietly, dumping the sloth in the cloud of pink tulle that was the baby's skirt.

Large spring green eyes blinked up at him as if she was asking, 'what the fuck is this doing on my lap?'

He shrugged and stepped away to return his attention to the shelf of diapers. But no sooner did he pick up a pack when he felt another nudge against his left shoe again. He glanced down at the sloth smiling up at him from its position by his shoe, and then he glanced over to the baby in the cart.

She was staring almost expectantly at him as if to say, 'pick it up, dumbass'. Or maybe she was just curious why a boy was wearing a mask when nobody else was. Perhaps she thought he was a creature of the night come to nom on the fat rolls of her thighs and this was her way of testing him. Nah, babies were curious oddities but not too astute.

With a roll of his eyes, Kakashi bent down to retrieve the sloth whose smile seemed more derisive than friendly now. While the mother was still turned away and barking into the phone, he pressed the sloth toy more firmly, insistently to the baby's front.

There it was again, those big eyes staring up at him like saucers of green tea. Huh, now that he thought of it, he hadn't had a cup of tea in a while. Rin had given away the last pack to a younger kid who'd wasted it down the drain anyway. Shit, but he remembered the prices for green tea had risen too. Oh well.

Taking a step away from the baby, Kakashi was miffed when she suddenly threw down her sloth at his feet again before he'd even had the chance to look away from her. He frowned and glared over at the mother who couldn't be bothered to keep a better eye on her daughter who'd decided only a few months old wasn't too young to start acting like a bratty princess already. A bratty princess who was treating him like her dog that she was playing fetch with, he realized belatedly.

As if to assert her royal if infantile position, she looked up at him, spring green orbs glittering with pure mirth as a gummy smile broke out on her face. Kakashi raised a brow at her, none too impressed when a wave of drool spilled down petal-pink lips and painted her poor sloth's face in saliva so that it looked like it was crying for help now.

Sighing quietly, Kakashi shook his head and decided to make his retreat from the diaper aisle. This was a battle he could not win, and the baby only proved that with a gleeful 'mah!' as she waved her hands, gesticulating in a language he could not begin to comprehend beyond grabby, chubby hands reaching for him. The further he retreated down the aisle, the more she kicked up a fuss, kicking up her tiny feet too. Her mother peeked over a shoulder for a split-second but looked away when she saw her baby was fussing for no reason.

Just as Kakashi turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of the baby tossing her sloth back down to the floor like it was her means of summoning her new dog to play fetch with her at her beck and call. Yeah, well, that went against Kakashi's domineering nature and so he stuffed his hands to search for the literature section.

Much to his pleasure, the books were kept at the back of the store where he could read through them in private without a clerk judging him for not paying for the paperback service instead. Much to his disappointment, however, there was no Make-Out Paradise and the selection of books was few and far between, and not to mention somewhat outdated since all the covers were easily recognizable from the days that he'd spent poring through them. Despite the pitiful collection of paperbacks collecting dust in the hopes a perverted reader might spread open their covers and peruse their naughty tales, Kakashi's attention zeroed in on the single brand-new hardcover tempting him with the 10% off sticker. Even more tempting was the cover art of a high school girl wearing a blouse that was buttoned just enough to keep from flashing a nipple, her tennis skirt a plaid black and red color to imitate the style of a uniform a private school girl was mandated to wear. A private school girl who wore that sultry smile just as well as she wore the necktie hanging loosely around her shoulders and arranged to cover a pair of hardened nipples.

Cracking open the cover, Kakashi inhaled the scent of fresh paper and ink first before glimpsing the first string of words that sat beneath the chapter title. He breezed through the first page, mouth quirking up when he recognized the set up for a good fucking. By the third page, however, his small smile had disappeared once he realized the setup was just that: a setup. No fucking. It was even more disconcerting when he flipped through the pages more quickly and concluded that most of the story was just one agonizingly slow striptease that he had neither the time nor patience for. He could even already see the ending from a mile away just by the building premise riddled with clichés and tropes: the professor gets caught and blamed for his sordid affair while his seductive mastermind of a student twiddles her thumbs in a very plausible show of innocence that hid her conniving smile. Of course, the man who gives in to temptation must always be punished for it in the end. It was a theme Kakashi was consistently seeing in almost every book he read.

With a huff of disappointment, he returned the book to the shelf where it could sit with its siblings to collect its own film of dust.

Straying his eyes over to the magazine section, Kakashi hummed in contemplation as he eyed the cover of a girl drawing the shape of a heart over her exposed lower belly with both hands, a peeled banana angled to censor her pussy. He picked up that magazine, flipping over to the section of the sex tips, most of which he already knew and had already practiced several times with Sakae. But, just for good measure, he decided to review the part that advised him how to last long during sexual intercourse.

It was when he was in the middle of studying about technique over speed did the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose up at the same time the smell of tobacco and rotten garbage flooded his nose. Kakashi was about to gag but stopped himself when a man stepped into the aisle—into his peripheral view. There was nothing unusual about the guy as he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt sporting a rock band that had broken up too long ago for Kakashi to even know who they were. What was unusual, however, was the baby hoisted against his hip. The monstrous pink tulle skirt was fluffed up to block her face, but he recognized that hideous dress that nearly swallowed her.

The stench of tobacco and garbage grew stronger as the man stepped closer, and it overpowered the delicate scent of baby milk. Despite having never been a parent before, and certainly not old enough to even have a child, Kakashi was still aware that it was never a good idea to smoke in the presence of a pregnant woman or newborn child. If Rin were with him right now, he had no doubt she would instantly spin on her heel to give the man a good tongue-lashing. And even though Rin wasn't with him right now, he could still feel her elbowing his ribs hard to get him to stop the man.

So with a sigh, he lowered the magazine from his face and sidled his eyes over just to check if the man had some sort of joint in his hand. Nope, nothing but the toy sloth. Kakashi flicked his eyes over to the baby who kept squirming in the man's arms, whining quietly as she swiveled her head left and right as if in search of something. Her toy? No...

Her mom.

Kakashi turned his cheek to glance at the back exit of the store that was reserved for employee use. Just as the man was about to sweep by him, Kakashi dropped the magazine right in his line of path and quickly moved to intercept. The man jerked to a stop, visibly disgruntled by a boy's ass blocking his path to the exit.

"Oh, what a cute baby you've got there," Kakashi drawled out, standing up to set the magazine of sex tips aside. The man paused at the sight of the boy giving him a crease-eyed smile that seemed friendly enough, but hesitation still flickered through his scowling face. Nonplussed, Kakashi tilted his head to the baby beginning to squirm. "What's her name?"

"Hana," the man grunted, moving to step around him.

Kakashi stepped with him, still effectively blocking his path and still smiling beneath his mask although the crinkle of his eyes had smoothened away to display the dead apathy in his gaze. "But that's not really her name, is it?"

The man's eyes widened by a fraction and he stepped back, dropping the sloth toy to reach for something at his back. But Kakashi's instincts were razor-sharp as well, honed by the many late-night street fights he'd often get into on nights when he had trouble sleeping. So before the man could pull out his gun, Kakashi had already pulled out his own pocketknife in a flash and sunk the blade all the way into the man's eyeball so that the hilt rested against the brow bone.

There was an audible 'squelch' that had the baby whimpering louder in distress while Kakashi impassively watched red dribble over the bottom lid of the stabbed eye. The blood started to trickle down a scraggly beard. The man let out a gasp, still staring in surprise at Kakashi as if he couldn't register the knife that'd been jammed into his head or the baby calmly taken from his stiff arms. He stumbled back, reaching up a shaky hand as if considering pulling the knife out even though that would mean taking his eye out with it. With one last gasp, he toppled onto the floor, his one good eye now staring listlessly at Kakashi's scuffed sneakers.

The blood started to pool out from his head rapidly now, spreading across the shiny epoxy flooring of the store. Before the blood could stain the sloth toy, Kakashi swooped down to pluck it off the floor. The baby had stopped her whimpering, looking on curiously as he pressed the toy to her chest.

"This is the last time I'm picking it up for you," Kakashi warned her. "I'm not your dog."

Instead of breaking into tears under his irritated gaze, however, she defiantly dropped her toy sloth (away from the pool of blood, thankfully) in favor of grabbing for Kakashi's face. Faster than he could react this time, she had yanked down his mask to paw and smack his mouth with hands that had probably been in her mouth too. Kakashi's nose wrinkled once more at the weird, somewhat sweet milky scent that he was only now figuring out was indeed saliva.

He jerked his face back in disgust, but that only served to give her a better view of his mouth. She paused, big jade orbs widening at his lips and she broke out into another gummy smile before leaning forth, mouth open like she planned to give him either a great big wet smooch or a great big gummy bite.

"Why not save that for your mom?" He frowned at the river of drool spilling down her chin.

"Agooo!" she squealed gleefully.

"Uh… bless you?"

No longer holding back a cringe, Kakashi held her further away, glancing down when his shoes felt slippery on the floor. He belatedly realized he was now standing in a puddle of blood. And among the sharp scent of copper and the gentle smell of milk, there was now a foul odor that stung his nose and this time Kakashi did gag. The baby giggled aloud, prompting him to glare at her. She only responded with another fart and then a giggle. Kakashi rolled his eyes, adjusting her onto his hip so that he could pull his mask back over his nose even though it wouldn't help much.

"SAKURA!" A woman's voice screamed out—the same woman who'd been too busy arguing on the phone earlier to notice her baby playing fetch with a boy shortly before getting kidnapped by a man.

The woman rushed over in a panic, face flustered with tears and fear. She wrested her baby from Kakashi's arms, glaring murderously at him like he was the culprit and not the dead man on the floor. Well, dead men couldn't tell any tales, so it fell upon Kakashi's shoulders to explain what happened. Maybe it was better to start from the beginning instead of jumping right into the scene where he stabbed the guy's eye out on a hunch. Now the woman was hysterical, crying over her baby's safety and the horror of a dead man on the floor. The woman was still eyeing him warily as the clerk came around to see what all the screaming and blubbering was about. Then he, too, screamed at the dead body on the floor. Which had then resulted in Kakashi retelling his story from the beginning again, this time including how the little babe still farting in her mother's arms had attempted to make Kakashi her toy dog to play fetch with.

The mother hadn't taken too kindly to that part, of course, even though it was the truth and she had demanded him to tell the story all the way from the beginning.

And then the cops had come and now Kakashi was getting really tired of retelling the same story all over again. At this rate, Rin would give him an earful when he got home if Mrs. Matsuda hadn't already blown out his eardrums by then. Of course, it was only until the officers had gotten his statement did they go bother to check the camera footage. And it was only until every microsecond was picked apart and the man was confirmed to have a gun on him did the officers decide to let Kakashi go. If Kakashi had to be honest, he'd thought the police would let him go once he'd mentioned the name 'Sakumo Hatake' to them. Alas, they were too bewildered by the fact that a teenage boy was able to take down a kidnapper with multiple felonies in the blink of an eye. So the fact that said teenage boy was the son of Sakumo Hatake was more or less glazed over.

When the reporters had finally come, it was just a motley crew of young journalists that looked like they were more interested in ordering some burgers than reporting a mere kidnapping attempt. Kakashi couldn't blame them. A burger and a milkshake sound good, he thought to himself, too absentminded when the baby was shoved back into his arms again, this time by her mother who now seemed to have flipped a switch and was giving him—or rather the reporters taking pictures of them—a saccharine smile instead of the accusing scowl from earlier.

One of the reporters had the gall to say, 'smile!' when Kakashi had been forced to pose for a picture, holding the baby against his hip and against his will. Even beneath his mask, it was hard to attempt a smile when she kept making grabby hands at his face. Tufts of pale pink hair tickled his cheek when the mother managed to wrangle her cooing daughter to hold still for just one photo.

"She needs her diapers changed," Kakashi sniffed, all too happy to give the baby back before she really did start treating him like a toy dog to yank around with her.

When the journalists trailed after him in an attempt for an interview, they at least had the common sense to realize their efforts were futile as Kakashi easily sniped them down with curt, one-word answers. Although he'd found it amusing to see them tripping over the cords of their microphones, he was ecstatic (inwardly) when the crew had finally given up and left, having not much else to report but maybe a two-hundred-word essay at most.

Good. He didn't need Mrs. Matsuda blowing up in his face the moment he stepped back inside the orphanage. Not when she was already a ticking time bomb ready to explode over his tardiness and other riff-raff nonsense. She already had disdain for his recalcitrant behavior, and he was sure she was keeping a list of all his shameless shenanigans.

Which was why he hurriedly dumped his box of condoms, the diapers, and the pack of bubblegum on the counter. The clerk, still quietly bemoaning his inevitable duty to clean up the blood at the other side of the store, flinched when Kakashi slapped a ryo bill in front of him.

Only a few years older, the clerk eyed the condoms warily before shifting his attention to the boy who'd just killed a guy like he'd only been playing pin the tail on the donkey—or eye, in this case. "Uh… how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"You're pretty young."

"There's no age minimum to purchase condoms."

"Yeah, but I mean… aren't you a lil' too young to be..." The clerk trailed off unsurely.

"Fucking?" Kakashi finished for him, deadpan. "Or did you mean killing?"

It was a sincere question. He really didn't know if the clerk was raising his brow because of the condoms between them or because of the pool of blood further away. Or maybe his apathetic attitude to it all exacerbated the awkward atmosphere that reeked faintly of blood still.

There was also the option to just brag to the guy that he was old enough to already have a college degree under his belt and would have his Masters by fifteen years old. After all, prodigies like Kakashi didn't need to follow the guidelines of how to grow up like a normal child. He was far from normal, and they both knew it after what had just transpired today. But Kakashi found it more amusing to see the guy shiver visibly in distraught of how fucked up in the head this kid in front of him had to be to walk away from a crime scene like it was a walk through the park.

"Give me a pack of Spinel," Kakashi nodded to the cigarettes behind the counter.

The clerk hesitated once again. Clearly, fourteen years old was not quite old enough to buy cancer sticks like they were lollipops. But considering what this kid had just done to a full-grown man earlier and without so much as a blink of an eye... Smoking a cigarette seemed to be harmless when compared to killing a man.

With his condoms, diapers, bubblegum, and Spinel cigarettes now packed in a plastic bag, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at the clerk who shivered again when he realized it was the same expression he had just before killing a man. Unperturbed, Kakashi made his way out of the store, but not without suggesting aloud that they restock the literary section for the poor, depraved souls in desperate need of a raunchy book to soothe the ache of their groins.

On his way back to the orphanage, Kakashi stopped by the corner for a quick smoke. He counted his puffs carefully. Mrs. Matsuda had given up warning him of the addiction to nicotine he would develop sooner or later, but she underestimated him. The shrewd woman liked to believe that she knew him like the back of her hand just because he'd been under her wing for a couple of years already. Little did she know that underneath all that 'recalcitrant behavior that brought shame to his father', Kakashi was in complete control of himself. It was almost neurotic for him to fine-tune his body like an instrument—or a weapon—and constantly stay on high alert for any sign of danger. Like a master of his own puppet, he pulled the strings on every single muscle and breath he owned.

He was in control of himself, and he made a promise that no urge would ever control him. If he wanted to smoke a stick, that was fine. But he wouldn't let the cravings get out of hand. Because it hurt too much to want something so badly that it destroyed you, and Kakashi Hatake was all too aware of what that was like. He'd been craving the impossible since he was a five-year-old kid who'd discovered his father's gutted body one stormy night. And though the cravings never really stop, what mattered was that he was in control of himself.

Even so, he finished his last puff and dropped the stick to snuff it out with a quick grind of his heel. The sun was hanging low, signaling that it was almost in time for dinner and Kakashi knew that his tardiness would only add more fuel to Mrs. Matsuda's already raging fire. He could already smell the smoke of danger—or maybe that was just the smoke of his cigarette clinging to him. Still, he couldn't afford to listen to her bitch for an extra hour when he had another appointment to get ready for tonight.

And it was after dinner that he readied himself for that appointment by sneaking out onto the back porch to enjoy the fresh air as well as the bottle of vodka he'd swiped after picking the lock of the alcohol cabinet. The vodka ran down his throat like fire and settled warm in his stomach. He sighed, leaning back to watch a plane fly overhead. The backyard was filled with fireflies at this time of night, the bugs eager to get some fresh, cool air after a balmy day under the sun.

"Someone made the local newspaper today."

Kakashi glanced up as Rin lowered herself down to take a seat beside him. "Front-page?"

"Last," she replied, presenting him with the page of his deed—minus the word 'heroic' though. At the bottom of the page was a photo of him holding the baby, the both of them painted in shades of black ink and icky grey but neither of them even looking at the camera. Kakashi was in the middle of thinking how much the baby's cheeks look a lot like a chipmunk's when Rin sighed beside him. "They say you killed a man, Kakashi."

He raised his eyes to her. Her face was marred by a disapproving frown while his was as smooth and blank as a canvas.

"Yeah... And?"

Rin's frown deepened. "And... you don't seem to care," she said, her gaze heavy with woe instead of bright with fear.

"I don't care that I killed a man that was going to do god-knows-what to that baby?" He couldn't help but get a little defensive. What did she want him to do? Cry and mourn the loss of a man who contributed nothing to society and was more of a fungal infection that needed to be taken care of? Sure, a life was a life and Kakashi had no intention to play god and decide who lives and who dies. But in a situation like that, there was no choice but to decide who lives and who dies—and hadn't he made the correct judgment in killing the guilty to save the innocent?

Every soldier out on the battlefield was doing that right now. Killing people to save people. It was a necessary evil for the greater good, but maybe Rin didn't understand that quite yet. She was still young and naïve in the sense that she was a proponent for idealism rather than realism. She still had yet to take off her rose-tinted glasses and see the world for what it really was and not for what she wanted it to be. And right now, she was squinting through those glasses to scrutinize him.

He didn't know what she saw, but he knew she didn't like it.

"You know what I mean," she sighed, looking at him the same way she'd looked upon that crippled, old pug in the alley. Broken, and waiting for death.

Just like his father.

"Don't look at me like that, Rin," Kakashi muttered darkly. He looked away from her, taking a sharp swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

She clicked her tongue but grabbed the drink to take a sip, wincing from the burn before tapping a finger on the photo from the newspaper. "You know, it almost looks like this is your baby," she said with a teasing smile. "You almost look adorable as a teen daddy."

"Very funny," Kakashi said with a roll of his eyes although he was grateful for the change in subject. "You know I'm never having children, right? They're fussy and needy and I dare even say abusive. This one pulled my mask down and saw my face while I was helpless to do anything about it. She practically tried to assault her own savior!"

"What?! Why, out of all the people in this world, it's a baby who gets to see your face first?!" Now Rin was pouting with him, but a smile was threatening to twitch awake again. "So not fair. I wiped your puke the first time you got blackout drunk and you still wouldn't let me see!"

"I'll show you one day."

But first, he hoped she'd forget about it.

"At this rate, I'll be dead by the time you do show me."

"I promise to show you," he said, taking absolute care not to pinky promise because, according to Rin, those were unbreakable even for him. He dug into his pocket for the pack of strawberry bubblegum and tossed it to her.

"You remembered the flavor I asked for?" She looked pleased.

"I do have perfect memory."

"Only when you care to remember things."

He raised a shoulder into a shrug like he could care less. "Go brush your teeth and make sure to clean your tongue like I taught you. I can smell the garlic chips you snuck in."

Rin sniffed and curled her lip in distaste. "And I can smell the nicotine on you."

"That's from Asuma."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

She rolled her eyes back at him but stood up, brushing the invisible dust off her skirt. "What about you? If Mrs. Matsuda catches you here—and with her stolen vodka..." she had her brow raised at the way Kakashi had grabbed the bottle to hug it to himself. Then her brow dipped into a frown and she followed his gaze to the shadows of the backyard. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Wait, are you going to be making out with Sakae again?"

"Of course not," he snorted. "I'm way past first base already."

And second, and third, and now he was on the last stretch of his home run.

"You say you'll never have children but you sure like practicing making them," Rin said dryly.

Kakashi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a healthy growing boy with healthy hobbies."

That earned him a sharp kick in the ribs from Rin but he hardly winced. "Remind me to not buy you the next installment of the Make-Out series when it comes out next year."

Ouch. She knew where to hit him where it really hurt.

Hearing her leave to get ready for bed, Kakashi sat straighter, knocking the bottle back for another swig of vodka. He had a better tolerance than last year, and at 5 feet and 5 inches, he already had a solid build shaping up even if his bones still ached and his voice still broke. But he'd already become a man at five years old, growing up in the hard blink of an eye. The painful whiplash of his childhood ending so abruptly had already faded away, but he still found his thoughts straying to his father even on a night like this.

Glimpsing the photo of himself and that baby, Kakashi couldn't help but replace the image with him in his father's arms instead. He blinked once, and he was back to staring at his deadpanned face in sharp contrast to the giggling, gurgling baby he'd been forced to carry for the photo-op.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi scrubbed a hand down his face before reaching for the newspaper to tear off that page. He folded the sides, making sure the edges were crisp and aligned before throwing the makeshift plane out into the garden. It caught a warm breeze and rode on the tails of the wind, rising higher into the night sky. Kakashi watched on, his memory of today's events already miles away like the paper plane would soon be; soon to be forgotten completely by the end of the night. And as the paper plane raced over the neighborhood, Kakashi's thoughts were now racing towards the future, particularly tonight during which he'd get to weigh Sakae's generous breasts in his hands again.

They're definitely just as soft and heavy as I remember, Kakashi thought at the back of his mind an hour later. But he'd also just as soon forgotten those plush breasts once he found himself inside of Sakae, fucking her in the shadows of the backyard with the rest of the orphanage (save for Rin) none the wiser. He'd impressed her when he managed to roll the condom on without a problem, and he'd been impressed when she guided him down on the bench to ride him. Then they'd both been impressed when, in a sudden turn of events, Kakashi had ended up bending her over and fucking her from behind, her hands gripping the bench so hard that her knuckles bled white and his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

When it was all done and nothing left to be said, Kakashi honestly didn't feel any different from before. Even when Sakae had blushed and stuttered through her words to tell him to take her out on a date, he felt no inclination to return the romantic sentiment. Of course, he'd still proposed to take her to the movies next week, and she'd proposed to give him a handjob if they stayed for the credits. But beyond the primitive nature that drove Kakashi to accept the sex, there was no tug at his heart the way Sakae's had been.

He liked her as much as he liked her big breasts, and he liked the sex just as much as any healthy, hormonal boy would at his age. But his loss of virginity tonight had changed virtually nothing inside him. Sakae didn't seem to notice at all though when she'd peck a goodnight kiss on his cheek, and Kakashi had given her that same crease-eyed smile he'd given to the clerk and the man he'd killed.

After checking that Rin was tucked in bed and asleep, he made his way to the boy's bathroom. There probably would've been a celebration of sorts among his male peers had they known that Kakashi lost his virginity and got to cum inside a girl—four years older than him at that—all in one night. But at the tender age of fourteen and a genius in his own right, the only one he could celebrate with was the old, crippled pug across the school. He was the only one of his peers who'd had sex with a girl, killed a man, and found his father's own corpse, so of course there wasn't really anyone he could talk to except for the pug who was already too tired laying on Death's doors to care about the fucked-up adventures of a fucked-up boy.

And when Kakashi started to strip off his clothes to shower off the smell of sex, it was then that he realized the bit of blood from the store had stained the edges of his sleeve, the red nearly blending into the black fabric. He didn't care for the copper scent, but he did frown at the light smell of thrown-up milk and cherry blossoms. But of course the baby had drooled on his shirt. He was probably lucky enough that she hadn't puked milk all over him too.

"Never gonna have children," Kakashi groused to himself, and then he stepped into the shower to rinse away the last evidence of today's events.

The rest of the chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

#kakasaku #kakashi x sakura #the anatomy of love

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tothedarkdarkseas · 3 years

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Werewolf this, vampire that.... Half cat Murdoc. Stu sleeping with murdoc, being awoken to claws into his skin because Murdoc decided to stretch. Stu yelling "Do NOT fucking hiss at me right now!" During an argument. And duh, being able to yank him up by the back of his neck.

Maybe.... Also purring......

Murdoc's really gone through the ringer on this blog lately, he'd probably gotten used to me talking about him as a regular aging tweaker with unresolved class trauma and a penchant for showing his midriff, and now he's rapidly shifting between the undead and a housecat.

This blog maintains the position that Murdoc is metaphorically (and only semi-literally) Stu's dog, but the evidence for Purrdoc is damning: he's got the claws, he's got the fangs, he's selectively affectionate, he gets in alley fights, he presumably eats fish by sticking the whole thing down his throat and pulling just the bones out, he's a tiny menace to decent furniture, he's easily picked up by the scruff, he often smells faintly of piss...

Tragically, I keep imagining he does a bump of speed at 2am, goes completely manic and calls it "the zoomies" the next morning while Stu's glaring and kicking the little bathroom rug over to cover where Murdoc peeled up the vinyl flooring.

#i am a total cat person which is why i believe murdoc is a dog... just feels right #however if they are to be one of each it definitely makes more sense that stu would be more dog and murdoc would be more cat #murdoc is catlike but he is stu's dog; paula is catlike and lives dangerously like british cats do; stu is bad with animals #that's the breakdown as i see it!#headcanon posts

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dreabastante · 3 months

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Fan-fic for Punko's art challenge. Cinderella Boy: "Hair-dyeing adventure gone wrong"

Chase Hollow and the Hairy Pursuit

Chase runs, letting confusion and adrenaline fuel his legs in equal measure.

Just minutes before, he'd been leisurely perusing the wares of a shifty eyed entrepreneur in the not-so-Gucci end of town. In hind sight, he probably shouldn't have agreed to meet up with said entrepreneur in the first place. Any business dealings being done in piss stained back alleys were almost assuredly too uncouth for THE Chase Hollow. Almost. Chase had made a calculated exception in order to obtain the highly coveted and aggravatingly discontinued Mega Dream Boat brand hair dye in Sparkle Pony Periwinkle. He completed his transaction as quickly as he could before stuffing the slim bottle into his jacket pocket and turning away. However, before Chase had made it out of the alley, he heard a loud crack and two oddly dressed people started yelling at him. The first, a woman with aggressively curly brown hair, quickly incapacitated the man he just finished paying. This was somehow accomplished without actually laying a hand on him, but instead by just swishing a stick in his general direction. The second, an impossibly angelic looking man with blond hair almost as fair as his skin, started running at him. On instinct, he darted away.

Now, Chase continues to run. He has incredible endurance because of all the dancing he does, but it's barely enough to keep him ahead of his pursuer. He struggles to both think and evade at once. Chase catches glimpses of the beautiful man behind him in the reflection of shop windows and takes note of his attire. Black leather and red robes. An exceedingly strange choice for summer time, but there's also some kind of insignia stitched over one side of his chest. Could it be a uniform? Angel Face certainly has the pinched expression and general bearing of law enforcement. Chase isn't prepared to spend a night in jail over an unconventionally purchased bottle of hair dye though. Desperate, he ducks into a corner store.

Chase is lucky. The airport is nearby and as such, this shop always offers a small selection of paper back romance novels. He heads to the back corner, grabs the first book he sees and and slips through a door marked "Employees Only". He settles himself into the far corner of what is clearly a break room, crouching under a small round table.

Chase untucks a metal key from his shirt pocket and whispers "Hey Silver. Sorry to wake you but it's an emergency. We need to go into this story. Right now." The key transforms into a lovely silver colored woman who nods her head immediately at his urgent tone.

A few moments later, Chase Hollow's handsome pursuer bursts in but finds no one. The strange man waves a strange stick and whispers some strange words that sound strangely like "Homenum Revelio". The bitter disappointment in his expression reveals that he has truly failed in some way. Without uttering any other strange words, he spins and disappears with a loud crack.

Later that evening, a very exhausted Chase trudges up to his room and flops onto the bed.

"Hey. That took a while. Did you get it?" Deacon, his cousin, asks. Chase merely gives a halfhearted thumbs up in answer.

"You look awful by the way. We can do it tomorrow if you'd rather" Deacon offers.

"Let's do it tonight" Chase answers after a long heavy sigh.

By the time they finish with the hair dye, it's almost midnight. Deacon looks ready to faint. Chase, on the other hand, cannot stop staring in blissful awe at his new glittery blue locks. His hair is unnaturally luminescent and he couldn't be more satisfied with his purchase. His euphoria is unfortunately cut short when a loud crack brings two familiar figures into his room, both raising their odd sticks threateningly at him. He has a feeling this will end with him having decidedly less fantastic hair.

THE END

#cinderella boy #chase hollow #hair dying #hair dye #gone wrong #dramoine #harry potter #crossover #punko

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professional-benaddict · 5 years

Note

Is it possible for you to write a fic where Peter is selectively mute? Maybe Tony or Stephen get him to finally talk?

aHh i love this🥺🥺 i did a mute!peter thing way back in the day and i remember ppl liked it so c: i hope you like what i came up with💓💓 tw: past sexual abuse

Something had clearly happened, but what exactly was a complete mystery to Stephen and Tony. One day, Peter had just arrived home with thick tears wetting his cheeks, and they had even created big wet patches on his shirt. Peter rarely cried so openly, so both of the older men were alarmed to see just how gone Peter seemed to be.

“Peter, what’s going on? Talk to us.”

“Tell us what happened, baby. Did someone hurt you? Was it that teacher again? What happened?”

But, nothing. Peter said nothing. And continued to do so for weeks. He stopped going to classes at college, which actually wasn’t such a big concern when he could just take those classes again, but what was alarming was the complete lack of routine. Peter didn’t eat nor drink on his own accord, only when Stephen or Tony were the ones making him food and feeding it to him, or at least sitting by his side while he nipped on sandwiches and licked at spoonfuls of soup. Showering and daily hygiene also became troublesome, and he rarely slept for longer than a few hours before he woke up gasping for air and sobbed till he became too exhausted to cry more.

“Stephen, what the fuck is going on?” Tony’s voice is tense, but he tries to keep his voice down since Peter has finally fallen asleep.

Stephen wonders the same thing, and after a week, he brings Peter to get checked out properly at the hospital. But, nothing comes up, medically that is. So, it must be psychological. Stephen and Tony do not know whether that is comforting or not, because Peter still will not talk.

They continue talking to him though. About the flowers they bought on their way home, about the weather within the next few days and other mundane things. However, when Stephen mentions that he saw an alley cat while outside, Peter shifts his gaze towards him. It gives them all some hope.

“It was completely black.” Stephen adds about the cat, since Peter seems interested. “Like a shadow.”

The next day, it is Tony’s turn to stay and watch Peter. All the worry and constant speculation going on in his mind is making Tony so tired, so he lays down next to Peter in his bed. He is too tired to notice how the boy moves his hand to hold onto him. But, an hour later, Tony really has to piss, and thinking Peter is asleep, he gets up slowly.

“No...” At first, Tony doesn’t believe his ears. It was the wind whistling, surely. But, it wasn’t. Peter spoke, and he is looking expectantly up at him.

“Okay, I’ll stay.” Tony grins, his heart hammering in his chest while he settles back down with Peter. There is hope.

And a few days later, there is even more hope.

“And Christine luckily stood up for me, you know? I mean, that guy shouldn’t have a liscense honestly. Calling brain death prematurely? Guy’s just hungry for those organs.”

“It was Flash.”

Stephen stiffens and looks towards Peter who’s laying on his side on the sofa. The doctor is sat on the other end, with the boy’s feet in his lap. At this angle, he cannot see Peter’s eyes.

“Did you- say something?”

“It was Flash.”

“Who’s Flash?”

There’s a long pause, and Stephen is starting to think Peter won’t say more. And even if he didn’t, he has spoken more than he has in many weeks now.

“My rapist.”

And then it all makes sense. It in fact makes so much sense that Stephen feels himself getting crushed under the realisation. The extreme crying fit, the sudden regression with routines and interests, the lack of hygiene and appetite. And of course, the muteness. It’s all PTSD.

“Did you see him that day?”

“Hm. He didn’t see me, but...” Peter sighs. “It was so scary- I...”

And that’s all Peter says during that week. But, then during the next one, he says some more about which movie he would like to see with his boyfriends. And then after the movie he asks, he asks, for cuddles.

Stephen and Tony are already is contact with a psychologist who specialises in PTSD. It is pricey, but it is a price Tony and Stephen would pay a million times for Peter. They will bring it up in a few days, but first, they must cuddle. The boy did ask after all.

#my prompts #mute!peter #starker #starkerstrange #strangespider #spiderstrange #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #tony stark x stephen strange #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange #ask

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

Beautifully Unfinished - 5/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 4,580 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

First Careers.

You quickly make your way down the busy sidewalk, trying to make up for the few extra minutes it took to get out of work. You’d been working for Avengers Publishing House for 3 weeks now, and were loving it so far. Though it was a lot of work and you didn’t really have much free time anymore. You barely got to see your best friends lately, you all just starting on your career paths and slowly figuring out your own lives and new jobs.

Bucky had just passed his bar exam, and had started at a prestigious law firm about 2 weeks ago. You hadn’t seen much of him lately, but you kept each other informed on your day to day lives via text. He was enjoying the new job, but made it very clear that it was a learning curve and very draining work. Going from school life, to the working force was a shell shock for sure. Yes, you had all the book knowledge, but none of the real word experience, so new jobs were a lot to take in at first. You all figured they would be, but not to this extent. But he was happy, and thriving in his career choice, so that’s what truly mattered.

Steve had gotten a paid intern position at the MoMA, it was a once in a lifetime experience and he was over the moon for being chosen for the spot. But he had busted his ass to get it and you couldn’t have been prouder of him or his accomplishments. This was a huge stepping stone for him and his career, and from here more doors would be opened for him, and he’d have many more exciting and fulfilling opportunities in the future. He’d been there for 3 weeks now, having started damn near directly after leaving school.

And you, we’ll you’d been offered a Junior Editors position with Avengers, a very well known and reputable publishing house in Manhattan. It was the first stop on the climb to your dream job, and you were overjoyed with the opportunity to join their team. You’d always loved reading, and at a young age you’d figured out that being a publisher was right up your alley. And now that you had your foot in the door, you’d been entirely right on that thought. But it was a lot of work, late hours and spending your weekends at home and making your way through the stack of manuscripts you’d been given on a deadline.

So you had barely seen the guys over the last few weeks, you’d have the odd small coffee meets on rushed lunch breaks. Or the odd night you’d get together for your traditional weekly BFMMN™ (Best Friend Movie and Munchie Night.) But lately it was less of a tradition, and definitely not weekly. And when you did manage to come together, you’d all usually be out of it and exhausted, so the conversation was non-existent or minimal, at best. You all just being happy in the presence of your best friends, even in utter silence. It was better than nothing.

But today, you were all meeting for dinner, going out to finally celebrate your new jobs and your introductions to the working force. And in Classic You form, you’d lost track of time and were now running late. As per usual.

The restaurants sign finally comes into view and you pick up the pace a little, maneuvering through the swarms of people that always seemed to crowd the city sidewalks. But especially directly after working hours, all the people moving to and from their jobs, their homes and various businesses along the streets. Going to meet friends, to grab coffee or just take a leisurely stroll.

You weren’t taking a leisurely stroll currently though, you were damn near throwing elbows to get to the restaurant in a timely manner. You weren’t super late, by any means, but late was late, and awarded you less time with your best friends. Which wasn’t okay, at all. Not lately at least, not with how little you’d seen either of them the last few weeks.

You’d planned this dinner with them a few weeks ago, to make sure you all were free and clear, and wouldn’t miss it for anything else. You’d made the guys swear to set reminders in their phones so no one forgot or made other conflicting plans tonight. Come hell or high water, you were having dinner with your friends, and then the three of you were returning to your place after, for a few drinks and a movie. There was no getting out of it this time, you needed a fun, relaxing night with your guys, desperately.

You reach the entrance to the restaurant and quickly pull open the door, finding a beautiful young woman standing behind a podium. She asks for the reservation name, and you give her yours as you’d set it up. She smiles, informing you that only one other person has arrived so far and then leads you to the back where the table is.

As your eyes scan the room quickly, they land on a glorious head of blonde hair and a large involuntary smile takes over your face. Stevie, you should have guessed he’d be here first, he was always on time, or in most cases, early.

You also shouldn’t have been so worried about being a few minutes late, as Bucky always showed up last. You were positive that the guy treated being fashionably late like it was a dang character trait. He took it seriously, and never showed up on time, not even remotely.

He ran on his own clock and you’d actually lied to him a few times over the years, giving him incorrect early start times for important things, so that he’d end up late for the fake start time, but right on time for the real one. He’d always chuckle the second he arrived and saw the smug and satisfied expressions on yours and Steve's faces at him accidentally, yet strategically, arriving on time. Though you couldn’t pull that trick too often, or it would cease to work, so you had to pick your battles, and only use it in important or dire situations.

You make your way towards the table, and Steve, admiring the unfairly beautiful angle, even if it was the back of his head. But that wasn’t a shock, the guy was gorgeous and looked outstanding from all sides. It was wholly unfair and a rather large piss off, if you were honest, the guy didn’t have a bad angle anywhere. All hard lines, muscles and taut tanned skin. Then his perfect blonde hair and mesmerizing deep blue eyes, he was the walking embodiment of perfection in your eyes, and probably in many other people's eyes as well.

As you get closer to the table, you notice he is hunched forward a little and looking down, and it doesn’t take a rocket doctor to guess that he probably has his illusive sketchbook out. You have always known, from early on, that Steve loved to draw. He took his sketchbook everywhere with him and pulled it out whenever he was waiting, or no one was watching. But you’d only ever seen a few of his sketches, he was very secretive about his artwork. He didn’t like to show it off and the odd time he did, he was always humble yet embarrassed by it. Saying that it either wasn’t finished yet, or wasn’t that good.

You’d praise the artwork every time though, and not because you were his best friend, but because it was genuinely always amazing. He had a real talent, if he could just get over his insecurities and actually show his work off to the world, he’d see just how honest your praises really were.

But he’d always shrink away at the mention of showing people, saying he didn’t draw for recognition, but instead just for him. It was his stress relief and he only drew whatever caught his eye or inspired him that day. Like little snapshots of his life that were just for his eyes, and his eyes only.

You gave up trying to persuade him to share his art with the world, hell, to even just share it with you and Buck. And instead you’d just leave the topic entirely alone, it wasn’t your place to demand anything from him, especially if it made him uncomfortable. Or felt like you were pulling teeth. So you’d dropped the whole art thing completely, and instead just left it up to him to decide what, and when, he shared it with you. And each time he’d show you a little something, you lapped it up with eager enjoyment and locked away the mental snapshot forever. Taking any little morsel he offered and loving it as brightly as you could.

The fact he even showed you anything, spoke volumes to you. Made you feel so immensely special to be one of the select few who got to actually set eyes on his artwork.

“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?” You asked abruptly as you reached the table, pointedly not looking at his sketchbook out of respect for his art privacy. You quickly took your jacket off, hanging it on the back of your chair before taking the seat across from him.

Steve calmly, but promptly, shut the book and glanced up at you, no matter how many times you tried to startle him, it never worked. The guy had eyes on the back of his head, you swear. He smiled at you, before tucking the book and pencils away in his messenger bag. “Just the things around me. Ya know, the usual,” he shrugged.

You just nodded, averting your eyes to the menu in front of you, as you picked it up and glanced over the options. “Sorry I’m late, got tied up at work,” you pause, glancing around the table playfully before locking eyes with Steve and smirking. “But I see the Jerk is keeping up his personally appointed job of making me always feel on time,” you chuckled, and Steve did as well.

“Well, you know him, he always has to arrive last so we can all fully appreciate his outfit choice,” he grins and shakes his head, picking up his own menu also.

You both fall into a silence, it’s not exactly awkward, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. You and Steve have sort of drifted since he started dating Hailey, not so much physically but more mentally. You still hang out as a group, but no longer just the two of you. And you still talk, but no longer as deeply, it’s mainly surface stuff now. Your jobs, your families, your day to day lives.

He doesn’t talk about Hailey with you often, if at all, he keeps pretty mum about her actually. Barely even saying her name in your presence unless he absolutely has to. No lie, you're thankful for that, but also not at the same time, especially since their third date they’ve been damn near inseparable. Spending almost all their free time together, but he still makes the effort to join in on the group stuff. And luckily for you, he’s never once brought Hailey along, he’s never even asked, not once. He seems to understand and respect that your group time is just for your little circle of 3.

But it’s not that she wouldn’t be welcome to join, every once and awhile. You’d suck up your stupid jealous bullshit here and there, if you had to. She made Steve happy, from the small things you’d heard, and could perceive in your childhood best friend. So having her around the odd time, you could deal with, you weren’t a complete asshole. But yet you liked that he never brought her around, for the sake of your heart, but not that he did it for that reason. God no, he still had no clue of your feelings, and to this day, you’d still never voiced them aloud.

You guessed he never invited her more for the sake that you and Bucky were his friends, his best friends, and sometimes he just needed time away from Hailey. Time to just be a party of one, with people who truly knew him. He had his separate friends that he shared with Hailey, and she had her own friends that were entirely her own. It was a mutual thing for them, their own ways to escape and get the time they needed away from each other, so that the relationship didn’t feel smothering or overbearing. Little spaces here and there are so important, and needed to keep a relationship healthy and thriving. To keep it from turning toxic and becoming too codependent, because that was never a good thing.

Plus you figured he kept her separated because the three of you had so much history, that Hailey may have felt left out or like an outsider to, as she wasn’t around for most of your friendship. Nor was she present for many of the big, and memorable moments that you all reminisced about or brought up often.

Whatever his true reasonings were, you were just secretly thankful for them. And for the fact you had your guys entirely to yourself, whenever you got together. Yes, it was selfish, but most humans hate change, and with certain things, you weren’t any different. You were entirely human, after all.

“Works going okay?”

“Hmm?” You hum, lifting your eyes to find Steve studying you now, his focus no longer on his menu. How long was he staring at you? You have no clue. Are you positive that your slightly disheartened thoughts were clear as day on your face, and that he probably saw them all? Oh 100%, judging by the concerned look on his face currently. You clearly really needed to work on your poker face, it had obviously deteriorated in the last few weeks, what with your lack of needing to use it. “Oh, yeah,” you plaster on your signature fake smile. “Work is going great. How about you? How’s the prestigious MoMA treating you?”

His eyes light up, like they always do when he is excited about something. “It’s amazing, Y/N. Everyone has been so helpful and very knowledgeable. I’ve learned more in the last 4 weeks than I did in my entire time at school.” He chuckles, “or at least it feels like I have.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Steve. I’m so happy you are enjoying it so much,” you smile fondly at him. This one a real smile for once. “No one deserves this experience as much as you, as you busted your ass in school.” You grin cheekily at him, “and I’d know, I was the one who had to drag you out of the library weekly, to force you to eat a real meal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” He laughs at that, “did I ever properly thank you for single handedly keeping me alive back then?”

You place a finger on your chin as you hum, in feigned deep thought then shake your head. “Not that I can remember. But I take praise and apologizes in the form of baked goods, if you forgot.”

He smirks and shakes his head, “oh, I didn’t forget. Not for a damn second, not when a dozen cookies saved my ass more than a few times with you, throughout the years.”

“That they did,” you laugh, nodding in agreement to his words. “How’s Hailey?” The words slip from your mouth unfiltered and you want to kick yourself. Yet, you are curious how things are with them, you just should have waited till Bucky was here to act as a buffer. Because your conflicting thoughts on the topic of Steve's relationship caused you to do and say the dumbest things when she was occasionally brought up.

You were happy that he was, you truly wanted the best for him. But you still carried this ridiculous torch for him, and it hurt a little every time she was brought up. You were selfishly jealous of her, or maybe less of her, and more of the man she got to call her own. The one man you always wanted that privilege with, but would never get. You knew that, but just couldn’t fully come to terms with it. Maybe one day you would, maybe one day she could be brought up and you wouldn’t cringe internally and feel your heart crack a little more each time.

“Ah, good. She’s good,” he nods, focusing back on his menu. “What looks good here?”

You take a silent deep breath in, your abrupt question luckily not sullying the mood. “I was thinking the Cordon Bleu Chicken Burger sounds fantastic,” you hum, glancing over the options, “but then the Teriyaki Chicken Rice Bowl looks amazing as well.” You groan, “ugh, why can I never just pick one? Why do I always get stuck between two choices, and then literally have to decide when the waitress appears and asks what I want?”

Steve chuckles, “and then you instantly regret your choice the second the waitress walks away.”

You are just about to refute that, but a new voice joins the mix. “But then once the food arrives, she goes on and on about how good of a choice she made. And how great the food is.”

You snap your eyes over and see a grinning Bucky walking towards your table. He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the back of his chair before taking a seat in the spot beside Steve.

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” you defend and playfully roll your eyes at the guys chuckling and shaking their head in disagreement of your words.

“Oh, you totally are,” Bucky reaffirms for good measure.

Which causes you to laugh, “okay, fine, maybe I am. But just a little.”

“Try a lot,” Steve corrects and you sigh deeply, jokingly. Which causes you all to laugh before exchanging your fond hello’s, and asking Bucky the basic life update questions, before you all focus on the menu to make your selections before the waitress appears.

Once the food is ordered, you having once again left the choice to the last minute and then just threw your pick at the waitress like always, the three of you fall into a comfortable and familiar conversation. Taking about the ‘good old days’ and the more in-depth topics.

The food arrives and you all enjoy it, immensely. And once again, you are completely happy with your choice, like the guys mentioned, and your momentary panic for possibly ordering the wrong thing, also like they mentioned, flies out the window. Like every other time, which is so Classically You—as Bucky had pointed out directly after you’d all finished eating. Causing Steve to laugh and you to glare fondly at the large brunette.

Dinner goes well but just as the three of you are paying your separate bills, Steve’s phone rings and he pulls it from his bag, apologizing for forgetting to put it on silent. As was the Rule for group night, that being put in place back in high school when Bucky’s phone had gone off damn near the entire night and he’d ended up essentially ignoring you and Steve to reply to all his ‘fans’ as you’d dubbed them. So you’d implemented a silent phone policy, which basically meant no phones allowed on BFMMN™.

He steps away for a moment, saying it’s Hailey and promising to be quick. You sigh quietly to yourself and stand with Bucky, waiting for Steve to return.

“Hopefully everything’s okay,” you comment softly, slightly irked for the interruption to group night, but also a little worried as Hailey is usually super respectful of your group time. She normally never bothers Steve while he is with you, another thing you are really thankful for. You’re happy he found someone who isn’t overly intrusive or overbearing, she is good for him, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s the truth.

“I’m sure it is, she probably just can’t find the TV remote again,” Bucky shakes his head and his words cause you to furrow your brows and glance up at him.

“What?” You ask confused. Why would she call for something like that? “What do you mean?”

Bucky purses his lips, looking like he just realized he said too much. But why would he feel like that? “Ah, it’s nothing, really. She does it all the time,” he shrugs it off.

What the hell? “Does what all the time? Loses the TV remote?”

“No,” he sighs, scratching the side of his head, it’s a nervous tick of his, he does it whenever he is trying to find the right words. Which only intrigues you more. “Constantly calls him for silly little pointless things. I think she does it to ‘check in’ on him. Make sure he is where he says he is. I’ve mentioned my thoughts about it to Steve, but he just waves them off and says she is just forgetful.”

“Wait, wait,” you put up a hand as if to pause the conversation. “What are you going on about? She doesn’t call all the time. She’s never called him on group nights in the past.”

Bucky gives you a weird assessing look, “yes, she has. Every time, and multiple times per night. But Steve is usually really good with shutting his phone off before he joins us, so that it doesn’t go off constantly while we are all together.” He grins and in Classic Bucky form, he tries to fix the strange awkward atmosphere with humour. “I think you scared the Jesus out of him—or into him, whichever, when you snapped at me that one time for my phone going off all night. Since that night, he’s made it his life’s mission to never be on the receiving end of your cranky outbursts about phone etiquette during group time,” he chuckles. Then jokingly cringes, “You’re scary as hell when you're mad.”

“I had no idea,” you say quietly. Here you’d just finished praising the woman in your mind for her ‘respect’ for group night. When really, that clearly isn’t the case. How did you never know about this?

“I think that was kind of the point.”

“Why does she check in on him so much?” You ask curiously.

“I don’t know. I suspect it might have something to do with you, though.”

“Me?” You quickly ask, “what the hell? Why?”

“She has always had this weird fixation on you, for some reason she thinks there is something more between Steve and you.”

Leave it to Bucky to always give you the real tea, he may not come out and say it right away, but if it ever comes up and you ask him about it, he never lies or avoids the truth. He always tells you how he sees it, how it is, and you’ve always adored that about him. There’s no sugarcoating, and no bullshit, it’s just his own honest opinions on things.

“But we are just friends?” You asked confused, though it’s less a question and more a statement. “What could she possibly be worried about? There are no feelings like that between us.” Which is partially true, from Steve’s side at least. However it’s a complete and blatant lie from yours, but no one knows that—for sure—aside from you. Bucky raises a disbelieving brow at you, but doesn’t comment on your words.

“She seems to think otherwise.” He shakes his head, “But don’t worry too much about it, it’s always been this way and her insecurities are her own. Ya know, since both you and Steve have always been so adamant that you’re just friends.” He pauses, giving you a little side eye before continuing, once again making you aware that he probably does know of your true feelings for Steve. “She’ll either come to realize that, eventually, or she won’t, but that’s on her. Not you. And at the end of the day, it’s between her and Steve, they have to work it out themselves. Don’t stress too much about the things you can’t control.”

You nod, feeling a little guilty for possibly causing an issue in Steve’s relationship. But also slightly irked at the fact you’re just finding out about this now. And at the new realization that she doesn’t come around because she most likely doesn’t like you, when you’ve never done a damn thing to her. Or to warrant her disliking you that much. How fucking rude is that? You may not exactly like her either, but at least you’d suck it up and be civil, you do respect her and Steve’s relationship, and would never interfere with it. Ever. In any form.

Yet, she doesn’t seem to hold those same sentiments, as it turns out, and she tries to interfere with your friend time often. Go figure, you’d have never known that, if it weren’t for Steve forgetting to turn his phone off this time. Before you can think any further on this all, Steve returns looking for a split second like he is exhausted.

But the second his drained eyes meet yours, a light flickers in them and he smiles at you. It almost looks fake at first to your knowledgeable eyes, but you shake your head and ignore that thought as he approaches you both.

“Sorry about that, Hailey just had a quick question.”

Bucky scoffs quietly and you elbow him, giving him a warning look to zip it. “All good, Steve,” you smile at him. Deciding to not pull on this proverbial string for once, because you may not like where it ends up, and you fear that bringing this up to him will only stand to put more of a riff between you two.

“Should we head out?” You ask, glancing between the two guys, receiving nods then the three of you exit the restaurant and head towards your apartment.

Throughout the night, you keep your mouth shut on the topic of Hailey, Steve is never really forthcoming with you about her, and you’re realizing that it’s probably because of her insecurities about you. About your friendship with him, and you can’t be sure of this, but you're willing to bet that anytime you’re brought up, she probably has something to say about it. Or maybe he doesn’t bring you up at all, he’s never been dumb by any means, and he is probably aware of her feelings towards you. And maybe because he filters you out of his conversations with her, he just unconsciously does the same in reverse. Filtering out her from his conversations with you.

Shit, but who honestly knows? You’re so sick of overthinking every little thing in your friendship with Steve, solely because you refuse to ask him about it. You refuse to bring any of it up. But also mainly because you refuse to add anymore stress onto him. Especially this sort of unnecessary and pointless stress.

The last thing you want to do, is to drive him away, or push him away, because he can’t handle the questions and issues from both sides. Do you deserve more answers? Of course. Are you going to press Steve for them? Fuck no. So instead, you’ll just harass Bucky about it later, privately. But Steve will never know any of it, he’ll never know that you know about any of this.

Cause he’s the one that you can't lose. But he’s the one that you can't win.

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@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve rogers #modern!steve #modern au #steve rogers au #Beautifully Unfinished #Part 5

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