#but then i fucked up the back brakes in the process D:

[bmpmp3]

playing a very dangerous game today by working on doll faceups and working on my bikes chain issues at the same time

[tacagen]

Healthy Eobarry AU

(yes its just called that. no there is no actual romance, the word eobarry is here only so i dont have to write 'barry and eobard' all the time im talking about them. some things are very close to that tho but thats just the way it always is with thawne.)

the core idea: eobard is still a flash fan from the 25th century with a huge crush but he never wanted to be a hero like barry. he always wanted to go back in time and become flash's archnemesis instead, so there is no rejection abandonment and disappointment drama at all. not a single trace of canon hatred, thawne just wants to have some good time with his favorite hero in a weird way. barry, on the other hand, has no idea what the fuck is even going on. the vibe is most reminiscent of silver age eobarry. their dynamic:

ALSO their dynamic: this jla short

the lore:

they first meet in 21st century. eobard just finds barry, comes up to him like 'omg hi flash!! im your fan from the future and i just synthesized myself the speedforce connection to go back in time and meet you irl :)', waits exactly until barry believes and starts marveling at that fact, goes 'BUT THERE'S ALSO THIS LITTLE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW :)))) youre probably wondering why these colors. well, i call myself the reverse-flash and actually im here to cause problems for you on purpose. NOW CATCH ME IF YOU CAN :D', runs off to break the brakes of a bus carrying children or something like that while barry stands for a few seconds like 'huh. reverse? where are you going?'

right after barry, utterly confused and shocked, averts the situation thawne caused, he goes 'WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL WAS THAT?? DIDNT YOU JUST SAY YOU WERE MY FAN??' which thawne answers with 'wow. you really thought i was one of these boring "my favourite person of all time inspired me to become a hero like them" rip-offs with no imagination, didnt you? tsk tsk, i am so disappointed'

secrecy of their identities to each other isnt a thing since the very first fight. 'by the way, my name is eobard thawne! and i know you're barry allen, i actually know most of the 21st century heroes' identities but i promise you can trust me with that!'. indeed, he doesnt reveal this to anyone or threaten to do so but trust isnt exactly the right word either as thawne fucking loves visiting barry while they're both in their civil clothes at times + itwasmebarry still becomes a thing (elaborated on further below).

thawne is faster than barry here from the very beginning on pure theory and little to no speedster experience but only because barry just desperatly tries to process all the information he recieves from thawne every time they fight along with handling whatever endangering civilians shit eo does and he isnt doing well. at all. like, it does require a lot of hard effort not to lose your mind while constantly being hit with stuff like 'OOOHH DID I MENTION THAT I WORK AS THE CURATOR OF THE FLASH MUSEUM IN THE 25TH CENTURY?!? BTW WE STUDY YOUR HISTORY IN SCHOOL IN COMICS FORM, ISNT THAT AMAZING?!!'

thawne never shuts up. thawne genuinely enjoys the whole thing and admires barry an impossible amount and he's always fascinated by every aspect of the speed force, especially seeing and using it in action. thawne never acts like a normal villain as in 'commit crime->run away/fight the hero/watch the chaos'. he does something that endangeres people's lives (ALWAYS in front of barry because that is the whole point) then runs alongside barry as he saves everyone, never initiating the fight and ENDLESSLY commenting on everything barry does with consideration of flash facts, speed force and other physics stuff and even barry's personal background. it always goes like 'must do this and this to get everyone to safety!-' and thawne, instantly from somwhere behind barry's left shoulder: 'YES you DO, because this this and this and of course you could try that but-' and it goes on for 5 minutes on superspeed at the very least. from a non-speedster perspective, it looks like two blurs with lightnings, red and yellow, are saving people and going with some kind of weird squeaking high-pitched sound, which is never there if there is only flash around.

by the way, the rule that it is Very important for thawne to touch barry at any given chance and prolong it by going faster than him is still present. the same goes for becoming a speedster partially to have an opportunity to get away from 25th century and its mildly or not so dystopian shit and boringness. doesnt really realize the first part tho, sometimes casually drops some crazy ass facts about his future as something totally normal (like that one good-bad detection chair from silver age that gets a cameo in rs) and gets confused when the reaction is something like '.....i am so sorry.'

THE SAME ALSO GOES FOR 'IT WAS ME BARRY', its just way more lighthearted and has the purpose only of annoying and messing with barry through slight inconveniences in his life and it is a whole another part of their enemyship outside of the usual tag games. examples: 1. barry in his lab, extremely tired and almost exhausted, stumbles on air, says 'dammit eobard, this again??'. thawne unphases nearby with an offended look, goes 'HEY. THAT WASNT ME.', demonstratively pushes barry's mug with coffee off the table like a cat, 'now this was me, barry', grins and runs off before barry can do anything; 2. imagine thawne's excitement when he plays chess in iron heights, looks away, notices yellow lightnings with the corner of his eye and turns to the board again only to find that his queen is gone. the very next encounter starts with thawne running around barry in circles like 'it was you. it was you. IT WAS YOU! ITWASYOUWASNTIT!!'

this thawne is incapable of murdering anyone close to barry or ever hurt him at all. the best he can do is threaten anyone's life in barry's sight (and he knows barry will save everyone. more, he never arranges the events with the chance of barry not being fast enough to save every single life threatened so it isnt a big deal) because in other case he just wont come out to play with him :( ((i dont think thawne's generally capable of murder here? he feels too silly for that to me))

following important things: 1. barry obviously never killed thawne because he never did anything that extreme. 2. nora allen is alive and well and probably met thawne personally. he visits her in his civil clothes and acts in the nicest way possible, barry hears about the mysterious friend from work he never mentioned later and chokes on tea as nora recalls 'what did he say his name was? edward taurine?' 3. BARRY'S DOG IS STILL DEAD THO but it actually was an accident. he still blames himself for not shutting the back door that day in the way he blames himself for the not emotional enough postcard for his grandma in dc superhero girls. (see also: this vid but its about the dog instead of nora) ((ALSO thawne is most likely actively empathetic about it because he cant stand seeing barry sad or hurt. unfortunately he is also actively neurodivergent so that turns out to be awkward))

they team up often but barry is never aware of that as it happens out of his control. thawne has every single event that threatened barry marked in his calendar and an alarm set for it and he just shows up there like 'fuck you, this is MY archnemesis/idol/inspiration and nobody is going to fucking hurt him'

barry is generally always in the state of confusion when it comes to thawne. he doesnt understand what's going on like 80% of the time. as thawne never gets any clearer to him, barry just accepts that this, at some point, is now a part of his life.

instead of love letters, thawne writes and sends barry personally discovered speed force equations like 'look!! this is how it all works there!!' and occasionally mentions other science things discovered after 21st century. barry reads all that, understands and sometimes uses those against thawne who is completely delighted by that.

one day thawne manages to lock barry up in anti-meta cell and spends the following 3 hours on MATHEMATICALLY PROVING THE EXISTENCE OF THE SPEEDFORCE TO HIM STEP BY STEP, reciting his dissertation verbatim which was written in the context of no one knowing and caring about the concept.

thawne participates in the legion of doom and other supercriminal associations out of 'is flash gonna be there?? whatever youre planning im in, just leave him to me and me alone'. probably doesnt even listen to the scheme details and learns about it directly from barry in the final fight when he asks him 'eobard?? what?? the?? fuck?? why are you participating in something that's ultimate goal is DESTROYING THE FUTURE??'. (or others just stopped telling him the details, OR he doesnt listen on purpose after that one time he edited the whole plan like 'oh cmon do you actually think you could succeed with THIS?? let me show you how its actually done' only for them to lose epically. whats worse is that thawne saw it as something obvious. 'wait you really thought it would work?? cmon the whole point of being a supervillain is that the good guys always stop you no matter what you come up with.' they naturally never let him speak on the plans again which he responded with 'WHATEVER. YOU DO YOU IG. NOT GONNA INTERFERE AGAIN :/') unironically protects barry in group fights if any other villain is trying to aid him against the flash and attacks his own allies for that (barry once uses that to his advantage to take out the whole legion one by one lmfao. thawne genuinely doesnt notice that he is the only one standing until barry mentions it. he takes a moment to look around and that's when barry takes him out, too). as you can figure, he doesnt get invited into villain associations often, and if he does its usually the last resort bc he is a Genius Even By Future's Standards and therefore one of the most competent scientists out there.

nobody wants to sit at the same table with thawne in iron heights or interact at all because he instantly starts infodumping about the flash and their relationship. you accidentally get closer than like 2m to him and after a few seconds he just goes 'me and flash are best enemies, you know? we even always wear matching suits, oh and did you know-'

thawne gets mad if you compare his suit with kid flash because his suit has a Deep Idea and acktually he got to 21st century before wally was also struck by lightning and therefore was here first (yep, he did that on purpose and it gets revealed the very same moment he mentions it)

speaking of kid flash. thawne argues with him at any given chance because fighting a literal child on who is the biggest flash fan is something he would do on a daily basis. it just feels right (and it shouldve happened in canon at this point at least once. fucking Come On dc. almost 60 years of thawne's existence and for what!!). his points are that: he is the flash's Equal (even in height. thawne is very fucking proud of that fact) and not a pathetic sidekick; he got powers after years of hard scientific work and not by coming to barry's lab at the right moment; he is an Expert, a Professor, a Curator of the flash museum and knows everything about flashes, including the things they dont know themselves yet (he accidentally reveals that wally is also gonna be the flash but is quick to claim that he was the slowest and dumbest of them all and actually fuck you ima erase that from the timeline later), 'therefore l + ratio + IM his biggest fan and there is nothing you can do about it' 'lmaoooo who the heck taught you these words?? dude you sound so cringe. like do you even know what ratio means??' '*thinking it's just a figure of speech from 21st century literature classics or something like that for his whole life* well i- h- wh- DONT CHANGE THE SUBJECT.' wally doesnt care at all and just trolls him, harshly at times. he doesnt take thawne even a little bit seriously, which eo tragically doesnt realize.

thawne's comedically jealous of barry to iris between the lines and is completely unaware of that. the same thing going on with the rogues about emenyship with barry but that one is direct and on purpose. probably fucking jumps in their fights with flash like 'hi i just took out cap cold for you no need to thank me <3 now, can WE dance?? :|' every now and then. probably it gets super awkward when they inevitably end up in iron heights together that same day. honestly i think every supervillain who met thawne wants to kill him at this point. he's extremely annoying, both on purpose and not

thawne finds and starts nitpicking the first curators and architects of the flash museum in 21st century from the very project stage like 'NO it should stand THE OTHER WAY everyone shut up im from the future i Know Better'. it continues right until barry comes to pick him up and apologise for the inconvenience. 'eobard, i know this place means... a lot to you but please let history run its course. i mean, arent you risking your whole existence by trying to make these changes?' 'BUT THEY'RE DOING IT WRONG >:('

CANONICALLY ALMOST DROWNS 3M AWAY FROM A BRIDGE WHILE TRYING TO RUN ON WATER WITHOUT KNOWING HOW TO DO THAT YET OR AT LEAST HOW TO SWIM. every time barry mentions that incident thawne blushes like hell out of shame. imagine being saved from the lake by your crush/nemesis/everything who is actually Worried that you almost drowned out of your own stupidity which kind of covers the cringefail at first so youre enjoying the Moment but then you hear 'why did you even decide to run across the lake, there was a bridge nearby?'. thawne BEGS barry not to tell anyone (and especially wally). that probably was the first time thawne actually stayed in iron heights for longer than half an hour without getting out the very second everyone looks away on barry's condition of secrecy. now, the funniest part? if thawne hadnt shown that it was cringe even to him, barry wouldnt even say a single thing any further. to him it was a usual impossible to grasp shit thawne does every single encounter.

thawne considers heroes and their morals objectively dumb but his thoughts on barry having the same mindset are 'god he is SO adorably naive. so pure. so innocent. havent done anything wrong in his life. sweetest cinnamon roll of all times'. occasionally tells him that out loud because he has no fucking shame except when it comes to the lake incident

his own set of morals is just 'be gay do crime' where be gay stands for teaming up with barry on practically everything that isnt their one on one fights.

following: other villains are dumb to him as well. sometimes complains to barry about how nobody Understands him and his superior taste in being a supervillain, especially in the legion. poor barry just tries to get some rest between work and superheroing and then thawne casually comes running out of fucking nowhere, lies down on his lap and starts venting about how barry is the only one that Gets him on superspeed.

[bangteamhyuk]

Seesaw (II)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors with benefits/Fuck buddies, Producer! Min Yoongi, Fuck girl! OC Y/N, Neighbors AU (a Spin-Off to “Moving On”)

Warning: (NSFW! 18+) Car fingering while Yoongi drives, handjob, blowjob, cum licking/ spitting, Producer! Min Yoongi practicing SAFE SEX and ya’ll kids should do it too, mentions of bullying, suggestive abuse of power/ office boss being a d*ck, alcohol drinking and getting hammered, mention of sexist remarks, Seokjin being damn handsome AF just by walking in OC Y/N’s life like it’s okay because clearly it isn’t (I’m Jimin bias btw, I know you aren’t asking but I’m serving still) OC Y/N basically being unapologetically herself (living life in debauchery) and Yoongi knowing exactly what he needs in his damn life and he isn’t taking no for an answer.

Word count: 10,977k

SYNOPSIS: For months, you’ve been trying to hide your little crush on your neighbor who lives on the 18th floor. Until one night, you saw him drunk on the elevator with an empty bottle of Scotch, you asked if he maybe wants to have more of those in your place. And he did more than just agreeing.

Also thank you to these wonderful people: @flowerblu00​ @milkyshoooky​ @sugaaddiction​ 

“Of course, I’d love to….” you spoke low while taking a glass of water to drink. From the rims of the glass, you swore you could see Yoongi trying his best not to smile, playing it cool by pretending to struggle in picking the cooked meat from the grill. You bit the chopsticks to fight a smile, you must admit, that was pretty cute.

--

But Rush Hour. Of all the days you two choose to get laid was on Friday evening—a time where, unfortunately by default, everyone collectively decides to get laid as well. Thus, getting stuck in a sea of red lights. Needless to say, you two were bummed.

The traffic was so terrible, that it sucked you dry… literally. It’s as if a Dementor went around Yoongi’s car, found its way in, and unfashionably sucking you from underneath your seat. (Which by the way doesn’t look sexy at all. Seriously, who gets turned-on from that idea? Clearly not you) You were damn fine damp a minute ago, and now it felt uneventfully dry.

“You know what? This is ridiculous. I can see a motel nearby, why don’t we go there in the meantime?” you dramatically lamented from your seat. Yoongi, who was drinking iced coffee, almost choked to hear you declare your frustration so casually.

“Well, um…” he peered through the windshield “I can see the cars are moving in the next lane…”

“The motel is right over there” you pointed, emphasizing the short distance between the car and the building to his left.

He gulped “I uh-- I don’t like to take you to some sleazy motel. Besides, we have our own place” he starts counting by the finger “One, we don’t have to lie down on dirty sheets. Two, won’t clearly hear people moaning next door, and lastly no one’s gonna charge us by the hour…” facing you and concern

“Tell that to your friend who’s waning by the minute…” you pursed your lip pointing in his nether region. He instinctively closed his legs at your retort and chuckled “It’s fine, we’ll be fine… thanks for the genuine concern. Oh look, the light turned green! See, we’re moving?  I think the next lane is pretty lax...”

You can only huff as your dry reply.

As much as he wanted to leave with you right away and get to the nearest subway station the very moment you agreed, he couldn’t.  Because of all the days he decided to feel horny, he chose to go out with his car. He shut his eyes and dropped his head on the steering wheel to express his blowing resentment towards the cars, gradually becoming stationary on the said next lane. Thus, extinguishing any glimpse of hope that you two would arrive at his place, at an earlier time.

With an aching face, he wished that he could turn back the time and just to leave his damn car at the apartment building. Just so he could save his own balls from turning blue by the minute.

It was obvious that he was frustrated too, like you. Who wouldn’t? Being jammed in almost half an hour already? Still on the city street, barely moving? You had to deal with it.

Then it hit you: Yeah, why not deal with it?

However, you quickly realized that this may be a hit or miss. Not all people share the same interest or kink, but you were dying to have your back scratched, and so is he. So fuck it, you’re doing it.

You began to move your legs, slowly brushing it against Yoongi’s hand which was resting on the gear. He reacted, naturally. In fact, when the traffic light changed colors from red to green, he accidentally stepped on the gas pretty abruptly which partly shoved you down from your seat “Sorry…” furrowing his eyebrow apologetically, deep enough to find your pardon.

“It’s okay” fixing your hair from the center, and tucking it securely on your ears. Thankfully, you didn’t forget to put on a seatbelt, or else the plan you had in mind would have backfired. He sighed in relief, grateful that you accepted his apology.

Uncontented, you then pressed your hand on top of his. His hands suddenly turned cold as he tightened his grip on the gear, right before your touch. While you were certain that most men reacted positively to it, being open to a semi-public tryst, your expectations were not met. Instead, he cleared his throat and held your hands... held your damn hands.

He gently hit the brake as he approached another mob of halted cars on the next lane. Obviously flustered, he quickly moved his head to the side taking glimpses of whatever there was on his side mirror while withholding his smile. He momentarily pulled his hands away from you to shift his gear to neutral, then held your hands back. He even pushed his own finger in between its gaps and locked it. Locked your damn hands.

Slowly you closed your eyes and took one deep breath, not because your heart started to flutter, but because of your utmost disappointment at his response. This is clearly different from what you wanted to happen.

You took a mental note of the events and Yoongi’s actions, concluding that he was clearly a man who disliked beating around the bush. So, for the sake of being clear on your intention, you aggressively pulled his hand, opened his palms and let it slowly brush the skin hiding underneath your skirt.

He froze. Now you got his attention.

Nervously, he coughed on impulse. While his one hand remained clutched on the steering wheel and his eyes still focused on the road, the other hand was busy grazing your inner thigh. Surprisingly, he didn’t budge. He lets you take control, directing him where you want him to be while touching you gently. You then took his wrist, and guided his fingertips towards where you wanted it from the very beginning.

“Y/N, I just think it’s better if we wai---” for a moment, he had forgotten what he wanted to say to you next, because suddenly he felt his finger move to a place where he is afraid you'll lead it to-- your wet slit.

He swallowed, his mouth left ajar and brows lifted in absolute surprise. “Oh shit” was the only thing he could say.

Whining softly from your seat, he reluctantly moved his head to watch you introduce his fingers to the pleasure of your flesh. You then extended your arms, cautiously reaching for his legs and caressed it intently. His eyes blinked rapidly, as he turned his head back to face the road, refusing to look back. His mouth is still hanging from the air, as his head floats in uncertainty mixed with pure ecstacy.

No one asked but, really, this is what you meant by taking matters into your own hand.

It took him a minute to process what was happening, and as such, he began to return the favor. Now free from your control, he started pressing his finger on your sensitive bud and stroked it gently. He bit his lip right after he heard you moaned, “...Yoongi”

“Fuck” he suddenly saw the traffic light turn red to green. He slowly stepped on the gas pedal,  careful enough to prevent you being thrown from your seat again. He was now steering the wheel with one hand as he flicked your clit with the other at a steady pace. As acknowledgement on being gratified, you opened your legs wider.

He was game.

Yoongi briefly pulled his hands away from you to maneuver the car smoothly on the highway. He grunted at the view of another sight of flooded red lights. He wanted to get home so bad. All he could think of was to get on the bed with you with his cock finally warmed. But the highway had led this poor man’s dreams down in an instant.

Though, you refused to concede to the situation. You are willing to put up a fight against the status quo, ready to deny the world from preventing yours and Yoongi’s happiness from dying each second. Thus, like a good employee of this capitalistic world, you turn this deplorable event from liability to an asset: making this a great opportunity for you and Yoongi to bond closer. (Albeit, a different kind of bonding, that is)

As soon as he stepped on the brakes, you pulled out your seatbelt and moved towards his direction “Your car is heavily tinted right?” you asked while probing the cars around you from your window.

“Yeah, why?” He asked while putting back his hands to your slit, continuing to flick your bud, now significantly fast. You decided to turn it up a notch as you reached for the button of his pants. Slowly, unbuttoning it and pulling his zipper down. He started to pant, nervous to hear you reply.

“Safety first…” You then helped him shift the gear to neutral, and began pulling his pants and boxer roughly half way.

He groaned as he watched you grasp his stiff length, stroking it slow. “Is this what you meant when you asked if my car is tinted?” he quickly jerked his head up to check if the vicinity is safe, then briefly saw you nod your head to a ‘Yes’.

He choked when he sensed his tip poke on to your lips. It didn’t take a while for you to hear him moan when he felt his tip finally pressed the entrance of your mouth, gradually moving down on your tongue and on to your inner cheek. The warmth and wetness you’re giving him puts him in immediate joy.

He hissed at the sight of you taking him whole, and helped you fix your hair by putting it to the side, letting you breathe easy while you bob your head “Nngh… Y/N”

“Like that?” you part a bit and kissed his tip.

“Why do you keep asking the obvious?” he faintly chuckled as he tossed his head from his seat, right when he felt your tongue move from the bottom shaft and up to its head. Then quickly downed on him entirely again. His eyebrow creased automatically, as if contemplating today’s wisdom from the universe that all ‘good things come to those who wait’. He concentrated on that note like a mantra, as he shut his eyes tight.

Even when you were giving him a head, he was still kind enough to help you keep your hair away from your face. Holding it fairly light, trying not to pull. If this isn’t a gentleman thing to do, then I do not know what is.

“Y/N” He began sliding his two fingers in, which left you half giggling and panting at the immediate contact.

“Mm, you are doing me good hm?” you asked while stroking him slowly and watching his eyes closed, barely breathing as he mentally called to thank the universe for being blessed by you “You can add another finger if you want…”

“Damn, you are so hot…” His eyes then lit up, biting his lip and grinning with pride, thus displaying his perfect gummy smile that takes you to greater heights every time he does. “Yeah… I really appreciate your honesty, thank you for telling me you are horny” he replied as he prods his fingers in, progressively fast. Candidly making you clench and moan his name at the same time.

And like a good co-worker, you went back to hustle. Starting from the bottom to his top.

The tightness of your mouth in his shaft, the smell of your sweet perfume, the sound of his fingers squelching inside your very core, and the sight of you taking him whole, like a prized lollipop. Oh, and the fact that he pulled his (now) three fingers out from you to have a little taste…Yes, he nodded to himself. Licking every side of his fingers as if eating at KFC. Indeed, ‘it is finger licking good’.

It became apparent that all his senses were being satisfied when you finally felt him start to shiver. Everything was met, everything was good, everything became so overwhelming for Yoongi that even with his lids close, he can still see the light shine from heaven.

He gasped, leaving him marveled at your greatness by giving him a very good head. In fact, he found it so admirable that you start to feel him throb. Evidently, he is coming.

You were so good, that he barely withholds himself from coming. Along with the fact that he became unaware that his elbow accidentally hit the switch to dwindle down the window. “Fuck!” he writhed, thrusting his hip up spurting hard in your mouth.

“Yo, Casanova! Your windows are down!” The driver on the other side shouted.

His eyes widened, still sporadically shuddering from his high. “Shit!” He quickly pushed the button to raise his windows while his other hand pulled his pants and boxers up (at the least he managed to put his boxers up while in hurry, now 80% covering his ass) only it was too late.

Resisting to swallow his cum, you began to pull yourself up from your seat and look for a tissue stashed somewhere inside your bag. Upon seeing your head pop from below though, it didn’t take long for the other driver to discern what just happened.

“Nasty” was the last thing Yoongi heard from the grinning stranger before he finally put his window back up. Now completely shielded from his embarrassment.

Just then the traffic light turned red to green. Yoongi quickly hit the gas. Staying in this traffic was definitely the last thing he wanted to be in. He then thoughtfully swore to be mindful of his surroundings next time when another opportunity like this came, or maybe he would never (It’s too soon to decide)

But one thing is for sure, he swore he can never drive and see this road the same way ever again. Thanks to you.

--

A lilac lacy bra resting on his lampshade, matched silken panty hanging on the side of his headboard, black pants stuck in the middle of his bedroom door, an empty packet of condom on the edge of the bed, and his brief dangling, which managed somehow to reach on top his his TV.

Sitting with his legs crossed, his back resting on a pile of pillows with his hands supporting your weight. He happily watched you grind on him with great effort for a full whole blown minute. “Y/N” humming your name, in between his grunt.

“Yoongi” you recited his name in return like litany, hands gripping on his bare shoulders as you tossed your head back in trance.

“Fuck…” he began to propel his hips against you, meeting your every movement. One of his hands sneaked its way to your breasts cupping each and kneading it gently.

“Yoongi” you repeated, calling his name, spreading your legs wider to find your balance and continuing to roll your hips in synchrony with his. For a moment, the sound of slapping skin was all you could hear until it syncopated by his heavy breathing. He pushed himself close to you, hands now reaching towards your clit. Stroking and flicking it concurrently in full earnest.  

His head suddenly fell on to your shoulder, his gasp becoming audibly clear sending you into utter frenzy. In response, you pulled yourself back and began nibbling his ear, light and soft. He moaned. Yes, the kind that reverberates, delivering you to the edge. Thus reaching your high.

He snickered after hearing you whimper “For someone who initiated everything, I honestly thought you could last. I didn’t know just the sound of me moaning can send you to peak?”

With your mouth still open, you grimaced at his snide remark “Lie down, why don’t you? Let’s see if I can take you with me?”

“No need to, I’ll come any time soon” he tilts his head to the side and kisses you, simultaneously thrusting in haste. His sudden reflex jolts you in another course of delirium. As his movements became erratic, you held on tight to his shoulders taking it as a cue to give each other one final push to reach both your climax.

“Y/N…” He gagged as he squinted his eyes hard. Together, you both curse at the sensation, and deeply sighing together after hitting the zenith. You both lie down at the same time, panting. For a while it was silent, as if both of you were taking time to ponder on life in general like a hermit sage.

“…. Is this going to be a regular thing?” he suddenly asked, shifting on his bed to face the ceiling. Finally, he was asking the important question.

“Sure. You mean no strings attached right?” moving your body to face him.

He then pursed his lip to say something but quickly retracted. He figured he needed to ask it, so he just let it roll. A necessary query, he thought. “Is this going to be exclusive or….”

“Let’s not kid ourselves and make things easier for us, so no. Exclusive is quite foreign territory for me. Although I can still be monogamous, that is if you want it to… but don’t push okay? I can only go for a short period” you stretched your arm and rolled to the edge, taking the liberty to take his bottled water from the bedside table and drink.

“No, no, it’s okay. As long as we keep using protection, I guess that’s fine. We can see other people on the side, while we keep in touch? I think it’s a pretty fair deal…”

“It’s a good deal” you pointed out as he nodded in agreement.

“But what if one of us isn’t up for it any longer? Do we tell or do we not tell? Because honestly I’ll hope you’d pick the forme-- ”

“Latter” you quickly replied before he finished the word ‘Former’

He chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief with your reply.

“Fine, I can adjust. I totally understand that this isn’t just about me, so in all fairness, I’ll agree to your demands. But you have to agree with mine”

“That is?” He sat back up and pulled out his soiled condom, knotted it first before throwing it in the trash bin.

“Give me your number” you opened your palm to his direction

“Well, I thought you’d never ask” he picked up his cellphone he left from the edge of his bed, while you combed down on the floor to find yours. You two then exchange phones and enter each other’s number, and return it back. “That was easy” he raised one eyebrow smirking at you.

“With that, we can um… reach each other wherever, whenever” you pressed your lips together and gave him a smile.

He nodded “Sure, but only if you wanted”

“Only if you wanted it too” you replied, cordially mimicking his head.

“Everything sound’s good to me” he shrugged “So, Deal?” he stuck his hand out to you and you took it. “Deal” you both shook it, sealing the agreement.

--

Seesaw. It is one of your favorite playground activities. You enjoy the momentary high and the unpredictability of being dropped down. Although more than anything, you adore the power play. You get the euphoria from being intrigued, guessing each time who gets to take the upper hand.

You love taking predictions, you love calculating, but above all you love to wager. You wanted a brief scare from losing, only to shift the leverage to your favor. For you, Seesaw is a game of dominance. And in the game of dominance, of course you like to be the one in control.

Even when you were little you were so engrossed at that thought, obsessing to declare yourself to be the winner. You were so competitive, that it made you fall on a sandbox one time, when you were playing with your next-door neighbor, Hee-joon.

Seeing from afar, your father quickly ran to you and held you close for comfort. Although when he was dressing your bruises, you remember vividly how he warns you not to cry in front of boys, because little boys always relish seeing a weak girl cry. You always have to emerge as the victor at all times. Hence, you never did. Even now as an adult. You fight back, you always do.

That’s why Hee-joon grew up hating you, because the last time you two played Seesaw again, you managed to put him up above and watched him revel in the air. Until he realized you refused to put him back down, not until he cried. You watched him weep and plead above you. Only then you decided to put him down when his mother came. To say the least, your mother was upset with your action, but your father felt proud.

Seesaw is the game that taught you how to take the highs and lows, but more than anything, it taught you how to be the one in supreme.

Every time you deal with men, you remember every word your father told you. As such, when you reached the epiphany that love is nothing but just an illusion, you decided to take things to the sheets instead. You’d rather be engulfed with pleasure rather than unnecessary emotions under the guise of romance.

And yet, somehow deep within you, you were too scared to admit the rationale why you vehemently refuse to lose. Because at the time when you fell and your father ran to you, you saw it in his eyes. He was looking at you, fearful to see someone he loves dearly be in so much pain. He was terrified to let you know how far the depths of a wound can go, until you can no longer feel… and you’re afraid to know it too.

It is the precise reason why, right now, you are watching Yoongi cover his face on a Sunday morning. Leading him to his high, watching him revel in absolute bliss, under him… literally. Yoongi pleaded for you to stop giving him another god-tier head, and let him breathe easy, before you could deliver him any further to his overdrive. While you indeed followed his plea by halting, you decided to tease him a little by pulling yourself up from the covers and went on top of him. You took his wrist and pressed his palms against your bare chest.

“Wait” he paused as he sat up and furtively looked for a condom in his drawer. “Thank God, we still have one last…” he pulled out the shiny foil packet. You took it from his hand and helped him put the rubber on.

And just like that, Yoongi again was on a roll. For the past few weeks, neither of you resisted sex. Monday night? On your couch. Wednesday? On his kitchen counter. Friday after work? Inside his car on a dark alleyway. Saturday night? Inside his shower. Now Sunday, back on his bed.

Sex with Yoongi is great, but you already expect that.

But just like a play of Seesaw, you know that this kind of arrangement will definitely have some highs and lows. You know that one day, you and Yoongi’s sex drive will decline, frequent calls will become rare, until it’s gone. So, keep them coming right? Not that you are worried, but really what is there to lose? Especially if the sex is good and you two are on an equilibrium, like that in the game.

Well, not until Friday.

---

“Hey, good work!” someone tapped your shoulder lightly after closing the meeting room, you turned around to see who it was.

“Oh, Hoseok. Thanks!” you grinned, happy to see one of your best friends attend your team’s presentation for a Cereal Company. You’ve known Hoseok since college, and even worked with him on your first job. Even if both of you left and went to a different company now, you two still find time to catch up. It just so happens that you two are now working on the same project.

Dipping your head a little low, you whispered to his direction “I was genuinely surprised to know you work for this company, I thought you hated their cereals?”

“Unfortunately, beggars can’t choose” he replied softly as you nodded in agreement, while walking with him on the office hallway towards the elevator lobby “Great to know they promoted you as the Event’s Manager huh?”

“As long as they pay me well, I can manage whatever shit the world throws at me,” you said, twitching your lip to the side and shrugging, making Hoseok hysterical.

“Cheers to being a slave for money”

“Cheers” you both tossed an imaginary goblet from each of your hands when suddenly, you heard your phone buzzing, so did his. Both of you stopped from the elevator lobby to read the message. You rolled your eyes “Seems your boss and my boss are going to announce their engagement?”

He chuckled, “I’m pretty sure they’re straight, Y/N. But I can’t come to this ‘Night After-Work Drink’…” he put his phone back in his pocket after reading it.

“Aw, C’mon it’s going to be the weekend tomorrow! Plus, I’m going to introduce you to my colleagues, we’ll have fun! Just come, let’s go Hoseok! Don’t leave me alone, please?” you whined before him, trying your hardest to convince one of your closest friends to come by using your pleading charm.

Hoseok just stared at you and breathed.

“Why? Have you not forgiven me for that time I accidentally left my hairbrush on your car and your ex thought you were cheating on her? Hence, leaving me now on my own to suffer?”

You stepped forward to face Hoseok before he could enter the elevator with you.

He rolls his eyes “Still dramatic as always. I told you, that’s been long forgotten. Besides, I am dating someone new”

“Oh” you said inaudibly, finding Hoseok slightly displeased with your overly critical reaction.

“Hey, I know that face!” he narrowed his eyes while expressing his distaste to see your silent retort “And no, I have no plans in introducing you to her… Yet! Not until we’ve established whatever we are” he continued while pressing the elevator to the ground floor.

“Hm, still sounds trouble to me”

“We’ve only known each other for a week, Y/N. Give her some slack.”

“Then why are you cancelling extra working hours? When can you drink to your heart's content, hm? Beer will taste good, especially if you’re not the one paying” you bobbed your brows and smug “Just admit it Hoseok, she got you wrapped around her fingers. I told you, you can’t do this on a regular. Women like a little chase…”

“First of all, we’re not paid to kiss ass. Second, you also hated the idea of having to go there too and third, she’s not like you…”

You opened your mouth, clearly taken aback to hear his remark. Hoseok quickly clarified “I meant to say, you’re frighteningly the almost perfect girl…but she’s not the fooling type.”

“That’s what we all say, that’s what we all want you to believe Hoseok...” You retort incredulously “it’s better be uncompromising forthright than give you false hope. Go choose!”

Hoseok sighed deeply “Look, one day you are going to meet someone who will probably prove to you that not all men are shit.” he said while crossing his arms and stared at you, admonishingly.

“I already did. I have you” you pouted. The elevator stopped as Hoseok waited for you to step out first then followed.

“Besides me” leading you now to his car in the parking lot. His eyes flickered as he remembered something… or someone “Know what? there’s Seokjin-hyung”

“Oh, you mean Seokjin the half-god from the Film Department, in our Uni? Seokjin is infinitely out of question. Have you seen his latest drama on TV? Park Bo-gum even sent a coffee truck to congratulate him” You sighed resentfully.

“How’d you know?”

“Instagram. Okay don’t judge”

Hoseok chuckled, stopping at his car to turn it open with his car keys “I clearly am doing it right now”

“Technically, he is untouchable. You’ve seen how the girls reacted then when they saw me and him together on a couch? When we were literally just talking about Chinese Philosophy class during that frat party. And like some teen-romcom movie, rumors started to fly the next day and they multiplied by the hour” You opened the door to his passenger seat and secured yourself with a seatbelt.

“Easy A. It’s Easy A.” He stressed as he entered and adjusted the side mirror’s on the driver’s seat .

“The difference between you and Seokjin are that we’re friends… and he and I just happened to be in one class”

He starts the engine of his car, offering to drive you all the way to the bar where your team is having this week’s celebration “My point is… theoretically speaking, that there are men who are as nice, like he is. Plus, he knows those nasty rumors weren’t true. Won’t you forgive those girls?”

“They’re basically my creators? Shouldn’t this present slut thank them instead?”

“You and I both know you were once a college prude, and you never slept with any of those rumored men… Seokjin-hyung knows the truth. Even if he was conscripted to the list, unlike other men who took advantage of that, he fervently denied”

“Because that’s the truth. We never slept, Hoseok. Above every one, you know I didn’t have the guts. Wow, I am still not sure whether to feel offended or happy about it. Am I not worth it?”

“Y/N, seriously? Seokjin’s a true gentleman, that’s it. That’s the tea. I can even swear he was into you that time, until her groupies held an emergency meeting to evilly conspire against you… I’m actually glad they’ve been dealt with. This is why we can’t have nice things”

“Hoseok, okay, granted that he and I ended up dating each other back then… It is still going to fail because lov-- ”

He started to turn on the radio, loudly “What? I can’t hear you! Know what? Have a talk with your pessimism when you get to the bar. Here, I’ll even give you extra money so you could offer it a few more drinks” he pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed it over to you.

You chuckled, batting your eyes to his direction “Aw, ever the romantic Hoseok. Well, keep them I’ll collect it soon enough”

“She is going to be great, Y/N. Don’t jinx it!”

--

“Fuck capitalism!” your boss shouted.

“Fuck capitalism!” you all repeated and shouted it while drinking another shot all together.

“Y/N! Lara! Do that soju bomb thing together!” Your boss suddenly made his way to sourpuss the night by ordering you two to do a party trick which is gravely against your will.

Lara gave you a look and you just shrugged, telepathically and ironically accepting defeat from capitalism itself, by giving in at your boss’s request. You two were compelled to act normal as if nothing happened. Honestly, no one really needs to know about you, her, and canker Joe. As a matter of fact, you don’t want anyone to know that you tried to sleep with canker Joe from your office. Besides, didn’t Lara hide the fact that he was seeing Joe too? Maybe she was too embarrassed about him as well. Regardless, he is definitely a thing in the past and should be kept inside a box, six-feet underground for good.

“Hey!” Lara plastered a smile and handed you the glasses, as usual, to prepare both your famous tricks.

“Hey, hey!” you faked cheered as well as you helped her open more beers to spray on each glass, half filling the glass. Lara then filled each shot glass with a fair amount of soju, while you meticulously placed them strategically close so by the time you shove one, the other shot glass would follow like dominoes (dropping to beer glass like a bomb).

This never fails to amaze your boss for some reason, to see you two do it each time, much to you and Lara’s chagrin. Truthfully, if you’re being asked, you two would wish you weren’t forced to entertain anyone outside office just to have a favorable treatment by the day.

“Y/N” your boss called as he pulled out a newly opened bottle of soju to your direction, handing out your glass politely to him as a reflex. “You really did a great job with your presentation; I really like it! Don’t be too shy alright? You deserve to celebrate!”

“Thank you, sir,” you turned away from his direction and downed the alcohol in one go, respectfully showing everyone on the table that you’ve accepted the harsh reality of the need to kiss ass so you could get cash.

“Too bad, Hoseok’s not here. He’ll probably have fun” Hoseok’s boss, who joined your team, commented while watching you have another at your boss’s behest. You nodded to his direction, to feign agreement. Considering the amount of alcohol he could bear in a single night, of course not, he definitely would not have fun.

“Y/N” someone murmured on the table, after your boss moved his attention to the recently hired employees. You turned around and saw Lara staring at you “Y/N” she repeated.

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow clearly befuddled to hear her and have your attention.

“I know you can’t handle alcohol well, just gently decline next time he offers. He has more people to oppress now” she lowered herself so you could hear her clearer and puck her lips subtly to point at the poor new recruits.

“Oh, I thought you said you didn’t want to be friends with a slut like me? Are we also going to pretend I didn’t hear that too?” you whispered back

“Whatever, just don’t come hurling at everybody and then throw up”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you”

She was right. She’s always right. By the time you downed an nth shot of soju or whatever it is they gave you (and add that fancy cocktail you wanted to try on their menu) your surroundings gradually revolve and appeared hazy. Somehow, you decided to take drunken shots of the bar and record random moments for you to post something on your social media account. Nothing too wild or nasty, just enough to flash for your friends online that you were having a great time on another Friday night.

“Y/N, is it okay if you come with me to the restroom and help with something?” Lara asked distinctly from her seat, loud enough to hear your superiors to cut you lose from drinking.

You nodded submissively, plopping down from the stool and followed Lara. By the time you two arrived at the girl’s restroom you quickly went into the nearest cubicle and threw yourself against the toilet and vomited.

“I told you so, even Hannah Montana can’t get the best of both worlds. Y/N, stop acting tough.” She crouched down and held your hair up while patting your back.

“I’m feeling fantastic Lara!” you deadpan reply while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, you are welcome” she rolled her eyes while burrowing something from your bag, then you heard something thud. Suddenly everything went blank.

--

The smell of musk, leather and a little bit of smoke. The feeling of the heat of a skin nudging on your nose. Your hands pressed against someone else’s chest, and the air breezing under the soles of your feet, as if you were levitating. You blinked your eyes twice and opened it wide from your stupor… finding yourself in the middle of the busy street of Itaewon.

You shook your head a little and realized you were resting on someone’s back. “Don’t move too much, you are starting to get heavy?” said someone in a timbre filled with objection.

You knew that voice, and you knew that scent too well too “Yoongi?” you asked weakly.

“Are you gonna throw up? Just tell me…”

“Yoongi, why are you…” you shook your head, that wasn’t the right question “Why are we here?”

“You butt-dialled me, it’s been so long since you called so I thought you’d invite me over but I only heard random noises then it ended… Until you began sending me weird pictures in the dark. So, I was kind of worried and called… But it was your officemate who answered and just told me to come pick you up”

“My what?” you asked, trying to process everything you heard.

“Know what? You’re too drunk to have this conversation and so I’m just going to take you home. Don’t move too much, you are slipping” he paused for a moment while he jerked to keep him adjusted to the weight that he is carrying. “Cutie from the 18th floor huh?” you heard him snickered as he asked.

“You saw my phone?”

“No, your officemate told me. Actually she asked me if I was ‘Cutie from the 18th floor?’ She apologized instantly because she didn’t know how to address me when I came to the bar to pick you up”

“Okay, that’s it. Put me down!” you tried to shimmy your body away from him

“Are you sure about that? She took your shoes from you; said she’ll leave it on your desk tomorrow”

“God…Must be Lara…”

“Is she the best friend you told me about before?”

“Yeah…”

“She’s worried about you”

“Mmm. Right.” You shut your eyes from the blinding neon lights passing from your sight.

“…Hold on to me tight” he reminded, as you reluctantly wrapped your arms around him while he trudged with you on his back.

In clear disorientation, right in the midst of the crowd, you wonder—why above all things, he is carrying you home without any question. Slowly, you closed your eyes and sighed while clutching on his chest a little bit tighter. You rest your head again on his shoulder, burrowing your nose on the fabric of his shirt. (Not to be weird, but if someone demanded what you’re doing at a gun point you wouldn’t think twice confessing that he genuinely smells so good, and that’s the whole reason) Somehow, whatever this was, it made you feel at ease.

And he wasn’t complaining.

--

“Y/N…Y/N” Yoongi rouse you from your mini-slumber “We’re here, we’re at your front door” He gently put you down on the floor and help you stand upright, waiting for you to enter your apartment so he could drop you home with his conscience at peace.

You crouched down and narrowed your eyes while pressing on the numbers on your door lock, offering it with great effort.

‘Access Denied’ it buzzed.

“Shit!” cursing on your poor concentration to get it right.

Yoongi sighed “Whisper me the number code, and I’ll do it for you”

“What? And enter any time while I’m sleeping?” you replied while unnecessarily glaring at him.

“Okay, that’s it… I can leave you here or you can stay at my place…” he put his waist on each side of his waist, like an old lady giving you an ultimatum.

“Fine... it’s wait…” You pointed a finger to Yoongi and pulled out your phone, pressing down the number sequence on the screen but in full labor. Yoongi, who was losing the endmost ounce of his patience, finally pulled you up to drag you back to the elevator lobby of your floor.

“Okay, okay, it’s 5991!” you spoke harshly, demanding him to put you down. Yoongi quickly turned around, to see if anyone heard. Fortunately, no one was around your hallway to hear you blurt your code so casually. He then swiftly pressed the numbers and opened your door and pulled you in.

“Oh! I forgot my RFID is on my wallet” you raised your hand belatedly after being dragged by Yoongi inside your apartment “Wait, what? You could’ve told me this earlier!” he groaned in utmost frustration, while helping pull your blazer off and beginning to question his choices in life.

“Yoongi” you grin at him with your eyes barely open “it’s been a while yeah? I miss your cock! Let’s have sex!” you squeaked quite happily. He then dropped you pretty harshly on the bed, not that you mind since you were too inebriated to care. “Mmm. Are you into rough play tonight Mr. Hit-song Producer, sir?” You reached for him, tracing your fingers against his shirt.

“I’m not…” he replied directly, rejecting your advances while he turned away from you busily searching for something. “… unfortunately for you miss, I don’t get turned on with drunken girls on the bed. Scurry over and try to seat on your back on the head board”

Obediently, you followed his demands despite not making sense, or at least because you are too drunk to comprehend anything. You shut your eyes waiting for him to do something to you until you felt something damp on your face “Yoongi?” you slowly opened your eyes.

“I am taking the liberty…Close your eyes” he asked sternly. It was beginning to make sense now.

“Are you helping me clean up?” you asked, feeling him gently brush your eyes with a damp facial cotton. “How’d you know which one is a makeup remover?”

“I’m not dumb, Y/N. I can read” he adjusted himself to mildly take your mascara off you. Flustered, you begin to turn your head slightly away from him. As if in a snap, the effect of alcohol was beginning to wane. Just because of the thought that Yoongi was doing things for you that you never expected. “Y/N, look I’m trying!” he clicked his tongue by pressing his thumb and index finger on your chin, securing you steadily “I heard, it’s not good to sleep with a makeup on… there’s a good chance you’ll turn blind from bacteria build-up if this is left unclean for hours”

“Says, who?” trying to dissipate the towering feeling of being embarrassed. “Your ex?”

“No, the idols I get to work with who came in late. They were trying to justify their tardiness because of their face after a night of drinking. Honestly, who cares? They have a lot of fans who love them”

“It’s a girl thing, you’ll never understand”

Smoothing another batch of damp cotton on your cheeks, he finished the conversation by telling you “Well, I do. You are pretty even without it…” he said while dabbing one last time on the side of your lips until you felt his thumb pressed on the edge of your lips.

Yoongi froze, did he just? He started to wonder. You slowly opened your eyes to see his face close to yours, just a few inches away from each other's lips. He cleared his throat and immediately shifted himself away from you again, keeping distance. “Good night, Y/N”

You watched him turn his back and dimmed the lights off your room, leaving only with a soft glimmer from your bedside lamp. Feeling stunned at the chain of events, you cowered down to see your clothes still on and your chest beating heavily. You jerked and shook your head reminding yourself that ‘No, we refuse to be your victim, Yoongi’. Then you felt it, clearly your body is still jaded, realizing on its own that you still had too much alcohol in your system. So, you tried to hurry over to your bathroom, only to find your face falling flat on the floor.

Gratefully, Yoongi hasn’t completely left you yet. When he heard, he abruptly went to check on you in your room. “Just how many have you had?” he helped you up and hiked you over to the toilet. You immediately hurled yourself to it and threw whatever you had in you. He groaned mournfully, while patting your back. He knew the answer to his queries, he’s going to need to stay by your place for the night.

And he did, but on your couch. He thought, it would be awkward to be placing himself beside you on your bed if you two are not having sex. Thankfully, your couch had enough space for him to lie down, yet he couldn’t seem to find his sleep. Not when he began questioning himself as to why you had him worried for the night, he shifts to the side staring blankly on your ceiling deeply sighing at the thought. He wished he knew.

--

The sound of fizzle, the touch of your dried lips, and the scent of butter, emanating from the kitchen towards your room. All of those, woke your senses. You looked at your phone and find it’s 7am on Saturday. Normally, Hoseok would gladly walk into your apartment to send you over hung-over foods, but guessing at the fact that he’d be with a lady friend you assumed he’d be unavailable for you in a time of need…. And cooking? Hoseok cooking? For the longest time you two had been together as friends, he never once attempted to put himself in the kitchen. So what changes?

You took your satin robe and swiftly wrapped it around to see who it was in your kitchen. You ran out of your room with a pillow on your hand and shrieked at the familiar figure. It was Yoongi cooking in your kitchen

He pulled out his airpods and asked “What, were you calling me?”

“No, I just… I didn’t expect you’d still... be here…Are you cooking?”

“Um, yeah, why are you always asking the obvious?” he knitted his brows, eyes darting from left to right, perplexed to even answer your query. “Look, why don’t you sit down and let Chef Min do the cooking for today”

You silently sat on your island stool and watched him prepare food. “Is this what you do to everyone you sleep with?”

He stifled a smile and pursed his lips to think. “I wish I did. Unfortunately, no. Just you, for now”

You folded your arm and poked your tongue from the inside of your cheek “Well you can’t do this…”

“Huh?” He asked with his back to you, busily chopping more onions and garlic then mixing it to the cooking pan.

“Rules.”

“Rules? What part of the agreement is cooking prohibited? If my memory serves me right, you failed to mention it, so I guess this is pretty legal”

“Okay, fair point. Then why are you doing this? On my apartment, on my kitchen, on my food? Is it all for me?”

Yoongi was taken aback, but he needed to answer promptly “What, you think I’m starting to like you more than a neighbor… with benefits?” he scoffed “Such confidence, woman” he turned around to snicker, playfully flailing his arm with a cooking chopstick on hand.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help it” you merrily bemoan in retrospect and shrugged. “Didn’t you say you’ve always fancied me?”

“Naked, I fancied you naked” he corrected.

“I don’t know, sounds the same to me” You watched him perfectly toss the food while cooking, like a pro. “Hmm, impressive. Are you trying to make me weak on my knees?”

“Well, are you?” he asked stoically, as he turned the stove off and finally served you a hung-over breakfast he made out from the ingredients available in your refrigerator.

“Almost, but not quite” you playfully bite your lip, fretfully eating your smile.

“You’re welcome for the breakfast Y/N” he winked, putting his share on a plate and sat on a stool right in front of you.

“Thank you, Chef Min Yoongi” you ducked your head, to tamper down whatever you were feeling in the morning. You weren’t a prayerful person but today you decided to whisper one from your seat. You needed it, a whole of it, before chowing down your freshly cooked food made by the Chef himself in front of you. Testing you by the minute.

He watched you while you shut your eyes and chant something inaudibly, and without you knowing-- he smiled.

--

“Min PD nim?” one of the staff knocked on his door. Yoongi, as usual, was busy listening to the tracks he made from last week now that it is back to being Monday again.

“Han Young-woo-ssi said he wanted to talk to you sir…”

“Oh, what about?” He abruptly stopped and turned to face her.

“It sounded like it’s a personal matter sir… so I didn’t ask him any further. He is waiting outside your office sir, would you like me to tell him to come back after lunch?”

He shook his head “No-no, it’s fine. I am a little bit stressed too, I was just looking for the right lyrics to the melody but maybe talking to him might help” he went out from his seat and decided to see his visitor from the same company but in the Accounting department. Was it about his demands against the company for paying for his daily coffee needs? Or was it about denying his request to fund him for another set stereos?

“Yoongi! My friend!” Young-woo delightedly extends his arm to give him a quick hug and pat on his back.

“Hey Han!” he sat on the couch and Young-woo followed, sitting on a chair adjacent to Yoongi.

“What brings you here?”

“Well, I saw you last Saturday night in the streets of Itaewon”

He chuckled “Yeah, I decided to do some carrying as part of my daily workout routine”

Young-woo nods solemnly “I know the person you were carrying. She’s bad news…”

He furrowed his eyebrows, pausing for a moment to comprehend the sudden change of his tone.

“I knew her from college, she’s been sleeping with a lot of men... maybe until now. Just avoid her if you can. She might give you STDs or something… Just stop Yoongi. I don’t know if it’s because she slept with Seokjin? Which probably made her impertinently bold and decides to slut around”

Yoongi thwarted him from finishing his sentence. “Seokjin? You mean Kim Seokjin?”

“Yes, your high school best friend and my frat brother, Seokjin. Did he never tell you about her?”

“He mentioned a few girls, but I don’t remember her being mentioned at all.”

“Well, I guess it’s because she’s not worth mentioning”

Yoongi pressed his fingers on his temple “Do you really see girls that way, Young-woo?”

Young-woo was left fazed at his question “I-Uh…”

“Cut to the chase Young-woo, I have a lot of things on my table. It’s not my cup of tea to entertain sexist conversation especially during working hours…”

“I’m just warning you. As friend, that’s it”

“Well, if that’s all there is” He stood up and tilted his head, locking his gaze against Young-woo fervently “I’m an adult who knows exactly what I’m doing. It’s none of your business who I want to deal with day and night, unless it’s about work. I appreciate you being worried and all, but clearly at the end of the day I’ll be responsible with who and when I’ll be fucked and who gets to fuck me over.”

Young-woo conceded and sighs from his seat “I love your tenacity, my friend. But she is different from the girls you used to date, especially your ex” he stood up and walked towards the hallway

Yoongi just nodded. “Okay, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Past remains in the past. Live in the present brother, worry about your future... not mine. Well there goes the exit door, if that’s really all you have to say to me. I don’t like entertaining sexism as a visitor” he points him through the exit door as he watches Young-woo leave.

He rolled his eyes, regretting the fact that he gave Young-woo his precious time so conveniently, just to listen to a back story he was clearly uninterested in. What’s the point really? If everyone is living now in the present, what’s there to huddle over in the past? One thing’s for sure, he’s going to spend a few more minutes at the receiving area to look at his phone and find some inspiration over his social media.

Randomly scrolling, he ended up in Seokjin’s profile, entertaining himself with his random pictures with witty captions, illustrations of cute alpacas and his daily dad jokes on his Instagram stories. His eyes suddenly widened when he shifted it to the next photograph and saw a familiar face from Seokjin’s story.

“Was it true?” he breathed.

--

“Yeah, that sounds about right, I assure you Madame Song. Tomorrow is going to be epic” you nodded.

“I’m looking forward to it Ms. Y/N” she giggled, standing up from her seat, ready to leave.

You did the same and bowed before your client, displaying your gratitude and respect. You took a quick glance from the window beside the seat and saw the sun glaring hard on the pavement “Are you sure, is it really okay if you leave right now? Didn’t you say you just had your facial? The sun is pretty hard. Do you at least have an umbrella?”

“Oh, do you? Sorry I forgot mine, can I borrow? I promise to return it to you tomorrow” she asked a bit warily. Of course, they never do.

“Sure” you pulled out your foldable umbrella from your bag and handed it to her.

“Thanks dear. Oh, if you must, bring your plus one” she winked.

You dropped your head and chuckled “C’mon Madame Song, you know I don’t do plus one. I’ll ask Lara to cover that for me instead”

She paused. Her attention was momentarily stolen by something, or someone in front of the cafe window “Well, why don’t you go ask him?” she puckered her lips and pointed out towards the man entering inside the café from its door way.

“What?” you chuckled in disbelief “I can’t just go ask a random stranger and tell-- ” you turned around to see who she was referring to, until you stopped mid-sentence choking on your words.

A man in black shirt, black leather jacket, and a black baseball cap? It must be….

“Seokjin?”

He turned around to see who was calling him “Y/N?” He raised both his brows in genuine surprise.

“Mm...Seems, everything’s pretty planned out now don’t you think?” Madame Song whispered to you close before leaving you on your own. Grinning from ear to ear, knowing she made a lucky guess to find you a prospect date, who isn’t after all a stranger.

“Hey, it’s been so long! It’s nice to see you here!”

“Must be cupid’s work, huh?” Madame Song winked at you both as she left the cafe with your umbrella. You shook your head a little, embarrassed to hear her tease. Then faced the half-god handsome man before you.

You sat back on your chair and offered Seokjin the vacant seat on the front.

“Hm, I honestly don’t know what to say to that, are you working? Was she a client?” he watched you write something down on your planner for a moment.

“Yeah, and we just finished” you clicked the pen and threw your arms up to stretch “and now I can relax. What’s up Kim?”

“Ikseon-dong is where I usually take my walk for coffee and look for inspiration.I like it here, it’s traditional and yet still a very relevant place” he turned around to look at the menu board, attached above on the counter.

“Ah, I see you’re working too…” you nodded. “You know their dirty chai latte is pretty good.” You pointed it out. “So, how’s your agency treating you? I’ve seen you in TDN channel the other night, and got to the scene where you were crying after being left by Park Shin Hye… that was pretty moving”

He laughed with his eyes wrinkling, charming as always. “It was hard convincing myself to cry over a fictional argument revolving over me leaving a Peanut Butter open for long...”

“In her defense, she thought you were cheating on her over Yoon Eun Hye. But before replying to that, tell me who you will end up with, is it her or Yoon Eun Hye? Because if you asked me Yoon Eun Hye might be evil, but I totally understand where she's coming from. So yeah, I’m Team Yoon Eun Hye all the way!” You lowered yourself on the table and leaned towards him.

He squints his eyes and went forward “Not if you watch until the last episode, or you could bribe me with the most expensive thing on the menu”

You shot at him and sighed “Fine, you leave me no choice Mister Celebrity, sir. One Eggs Benedict and House Coffee, on me” he chuckled, knowing fully that those were the cheapest on the menu.

“It’s nice to know you didn’t change at all, Y/N” he gulped and smiled at you.

“Oh yeah? Don’t be disappointed if you found it to be untrue.” You stood up and ordered something for your old flame, well almost… or so you would like to think, if it wasn’t for his groupies who extinguished before it even began.

You two tried to catch on a lot of things, while taking a few photos together. Seokjin has an insane amount of following, compared to the number he had back in college (but was still considerably huge). Yet he wasn’t bothered at all, he still posted whatever he pleased.

Although he was now hyper-aware of everything online, especially the fact that some things might get him in trouble or even getting others into trouble. He made sure to explain things about what was happening in his caption before posting anything. Just to spare them from unnecessary and unfounded hate from his fans.

“Fancy bumping to a college friend *insert smiley emoji*” he said out loud while mindlessly typing it as he hit the post button.

“Why didn’t you put a sticker on my face?”

“Why should I? I already spare you from being tagged. That way, you can still keep your identity hidden, but this face?” He pouts “Too pretty to be kept away”

You blushed, abruptly shaking your head ready to say something as your defense retorted “Is this your way to get in my pants, now that you’re some big shot?”

He folds his arms and twitches his lips to the corner “You thought so lowly of me, I could’ve dated you. Should’ve asked you out 11 years ago, but I didn’t because I was afraid you’d get in to trouble because of me… yet, still you did”

You paused for a moment. “Seokjin. I—”

He batted his eyes and smiled “That night at the frat party, I was about to ask you... but chickened out last minute. I should be the one saying sorry, Y/N. I wish I was there for you; I could only imagine what your college life might have been. How are you holding it?”

You croaked, left momentarily speechless at the sudden revelation that was gradually unfolding before you “I—I’m fine. Thanks to Hoseok, my life from there became bearable. I’m sure he’s the one who shut all the people who were spreading rumors, he just wouldn’t tell”

He nods. “What if he truly wasn’t? Like maybe, somebody other than Hoseok did it for you?”

“You?” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

“It’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m partly to blame '' His phone suddenly buzzed as he pointed a finger to excuse himself for a moment to receive it. “Hey baby, yeah. I’m just here in Ikseon-dong? I’m in “Flower Yard Cafe” Meet? Where?... Okay. I love you, see you in a bit”

You lump on your lips, suppressing a chuckle. For a moment you thought you had a chance with Mr. WorldWide Handsome himself, but man you were eons late. Certainly, there are many times you want to hurl yourself over him regardless if he actually wants you too.

You were then so close to not giving any more damn to the ladies who would build a fort to push any of his prospects away. Yet maybe that’s how the world works, maybe you don’t deserve all the nice things because that’s how you were designed to live your life… or maybe it’s how the world chastises you for choosing to live a life in debauchery. Either way, You and Seokjin will never happen. That’s pretty much engraved in your destiny, if that’s not obvious enough.

“I’m sorry I got to go, my girlfriend’s having a fit”

“Hm, maybe you should delete your post about us?”

“Girl, you think I’m doing this for you? I want to annoy the girls who shit on my chance with you…”

You laughed. “Hm. Openly flirting with me still? You are playing on dangerous water, sir… How about we try next life Kim, yeah?”

“Ofcourse, just don’t get swoon with my face alone when that happens.”

You nodded in between chuckles as you bid goodbye and watched him leave the cafe. You began fixing your things and putting everything on your handbag when suddenly you heard the sound of drizzle.

“Ugh, should’ve known! That blaring sun definitely looks like it’s gonna invite rain soon... I gave my umbrella to Mrs. Song!” you complained to no one, whining softly from your seat.

Not wanting to spend another hour inside, especially when you needed to send a few paperwork to your boss for a report, you decided to just throw yourselves over the harsh rain “Know what? Fuck it, let’s just run and get wet again” you pushed the door away from you, ready to run while holding on to your handbag that was barely covering your head.

As the door swiveled far, you began to notice that the rain that was supposed to be falling over your head wasn’t just…there. You turned around and found Yoongi. His arms extended to you, holding an umbrella for you. You watched him smile despite slightly getting showered.

“Yoongi?”

“Why are you always asking the obvious? Hey Y/N” He scooted over inside the umbrella, arms pressing and pulling you close to him. His free hand held on to the handle slightly tilted, making sure you remained dry than he is. You stood there, completely frozen. Too stunned to see him at a time when you needed someone.

“You certainly like to get wet often, huh?” he snickered, trying to diffuse the momentary silence.

“It depends on the situation… I-uh… what are you doing here?”

“I was just having a walk. The weather looks good” he subtly gulped, eating his lie. After seeing you on Seokjin’s instagram, he immediately called and asked where he was. Seokjin, knowing Yoongi fully for years, did not bother to ask any more questions as he simply answered where he is currently located.

“Oh yeah?” you tilt your head to look at the dark sky.

“Well, it was, until it suddenly started to rain. Where are you headed?”

“Back in my office, just a few blocks from here. You?”

“What a coincidence, I am too”

“You also work there?” you chuckled

He rolled his eyes and sighed “Okay you got me, just let me take you there unscathed. I’ll go back to strolling around the city  looking for inspiration for the song I am working on. But until then, I have to see you get there, so that I could put myself at ease knowing you went to your work completely dry.”

“Aw, that is so gentleman of you. You better credit me when you find that inspiration you were saying” you playfully teased, knowing fully well you’ll give zero contribution to his work.

He chuckled. Making you suck an air to see another gummy smile from him, which he is very frugal of him to do.

“Perhaps I will,” he shrugged, smiling weakly as he faced the street. You swiftly turn to face him, bewildered to see his sincere intent. Will he really? Thoughts were starting to run around your head.

Clearly, when was the last time you’ve been held by a man? Was it yesterday during sex with Jinyoung a fellow regular from the cafe next to your office? Or was it during a dodgeball game during 8th grade where Taecyeon, your crush pulled you away from getting hit by a ball? Or perhaps the time when your father took you in his arms when you got bruised? You could no longer remember, because right in the middle of the rain, underneath the transparent umbrella, you watched the rain fall while Yoongi was there holding you in his arms…and that was all you could think.

For the very first time, you felt safe and secured. It was warm and seemed full of ardent affection. You failed to put words into what you were feeling, because evidently you had nothing on it from your catalog for inner feelings. Yoongi remains to hold onto you close, while continuing to walk on the streets under the heavy rain... And you yielded unto him.

The feeling was so foreign and novel that you were starting to feel scared. You are so afraid of the feeling of this unfamiliarity, and perhaps the thought of it that it might one day become … too familiar.

Suddenly it dawned on you, in this seemingly game of feelings like seesaw, he was now taking the leverage because you were starting to get your high.

And for the first time in years, you were unsure how this would turn out.

A/N: Ahhhh THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING TIME! I can finally share my song inspo for this  chapter. I know the lyrics isn’t appropriate to the story, but I was just vibing to this while I was watching this video when I was doing my cardio on a machine. I quickly thought of THAT scene and I was all too UwU the whole time. Anyway, hope you all have a great day! THANKING MY BETA READER FOR GIVING HER PRECIOUS TIME FOR THIS 🙃 love you! you know who you are 😉

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Tendou NSFW alphabet

No one Requested this but I wrote it anyway

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He lightens the mood the the best of his abilities. He can be pretty mean durring sex so he makes sure you laugh a little and know that he really does love you. also lots of cuddles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hair!! He likes how it stands out both because its color and becuase of how he spikes it up. Mostly he likes his hair because you like his hair. you’re always playing with it and scratching his scalp, it melts him. 

On you he likes your hands. they are wayyyy smaller than his and just so cute!! he will be holding your hand 25/8 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves loves loves to watch his cum drip off of you. His cum is a little wattery so it runs and drips every damn where. he loves to bust over your chest and watch you try and  to catch it all as to not make a mess but its too late his cum is all over the place and you should probably wash the sheets. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to make you drool. kinda gross but here me out. its because it’s gross that Tendou is into it. He will put his fingers in your mouth just to feel you drool down the side of his hand or make you choke on his cock just to see your spit dribble down your chin. gets him rock hard everytime. 

You get your wisdom teeth pulled and you end up drooling a little in recovery and Tendou is trying so hard to be a good boyfriend and take care of you but he’s turned on as fuck. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very. in fact he’s probably a virgin when the two of you meet. Most people are scared of him, or just think he’s weird so unless it’s like a one night stand he’s probably never done the deed before. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

something like this where he’s stratling one leg then has the other pressed to his chest. He likes seeing your face when you have sex so he can stick fingers in your mouth and he also likes that this position hleps him hit all the sensitive spots inside of you. 

that being said Tendou is into some weird shit so if you are flexable he’s going to put your ass in some straight up bonkers poses while you two fuck

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

oh you KNOW he’s cracking jokes the whole time wich is kind of jarring because he is also belittling you all the time so he might give you whiplash

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Got into manscaping as a joke and is very poud that he has the prettiest pubes on the team also yes the whole team has seen his pubes because Tendou. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not very romantic tbh like I said he’s into degrading the fuck out of you and he’s got truble expressing how much he loves you at the best of times so don’t expect him to scatter roses for you or something </3

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

all the time babie. he’s horny all day everyday and also jerking off just helps him relieve stress so he’ll do it even if he isn’t in the mood. Not ashamed if you catch him either if anything he enjoys you watching. very into mutual masturbation as well. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BDSM- Tendou is a sadist. that's it that’s the post. Tendou lives to see you crying or in pain that he caused. it’s just so much fun spaking you then belittling you and humilating you for getting off on it of course this is made all the better becuase you like it just as much as him.

He also loves making a reall mess of you, your hair will be tangled, any makeup you were wearing smudged and your whole body trembling as it’s covered in unnameable fluids. in Tendou’s eyes you’ve never looked better.

letex- Is this a kink? I think so. Tendou loves seeing you in tight-fitting black letex. he loves watching you jiggle in the tight fitting outfit and how your plump skin fills the costume perfectly, and if you were to dom him you better do it in a letex dominetrix suit 

food play- please imagine chocolatier Tendou pouring melted choclate all over your body so he can lick it up. Like I said he loves to make a mess of you. whipped cream, carmel, strawberries, icecream, Tendou would use you as a buffet table tbh 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

in theory he likes doing it outside, thinks its romantic to blow your back out under the open night sky, but  tbh it’s hard to have kinky sex outside so he usally holds off on sex to the bedroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you use your “baby voice” like your voice pitches up and you hit him with the pout and the puppy dog eyes and he is putty in your hands. one time you found a stray kitty and started cooing over it as the poor thing. Needless to say, tendou had never been so jelous of a cat before. God forbid you baby Goshiki that way

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

not into roleplay He thinks it’s just cringey to pretend to be someone you’re not and it just takes him out of the experience. He also isn’t really big on sharing. He may threaten to let the whole world see you at your sluttiest if he’s humiliating you, but he’s bluffing that is a sight for his eyes only.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

tbh? not into oral that much. Not that he would ever turn down a blow job mind you, bt he would rather fuck you properly or just jerk himself off. 

that being said he still goes down on you fairly offten. He’s a big tease and loves to torture you with his tounge edging you over and over again. or tease you for humping his face like a desprate little slut. He also likes it when you sit on his face, it just feels intemet you know? it’s also a good way to show his control over you. Even though techincally you are setting the pace as you ride him, you still do what he asks cus your obedient 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends. if he’s still in teasing mode, he’ll be painfully slow, until you beg him to speed up, wich he will of course almost brakeing the bed in the process and if you tell him to slow down he’ll go back to slow and teasing. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like to have a full quicky but he will absolutely pull you aside to get you worked up before leaving you high and dry. before pouncing on you when you have a little more privacy. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s down for pretty much anything he’s pretty chill when you bring something up you want to try and always makes sure to bring up anything he wants to do in advance to make sure you’re comfortable and onboard. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

in the beginning he has no stamina homeboy busts in like a minute flat lucky for you he is willing to train and he can go for rounds on end imma say this for every one of these boys stg but his stamina is through the roof never going to stop having sex just because he’s tired. and if he is feeling low energy it manifests with less kinks rather than less sex. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

HA. yeah <3. Ushi found his box of sex toys once and hasn’t recovered since. Ball gags, nipple clamps, and handcuffs are some of Tendou’s personal favorites. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Do I even have to say it? is it even really sex with Tendou if he doesn’t make you beg?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not loud but he talks a lot. He looms over your body and mummers into your ear all the dirty things hes going to do to you, or wants to do. he’s also highkey going to mock you if you’re too loud 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he gets drunk he gets very sweet and clingy he also gets very touchy and drunk Tendou is one of the only times you’ll have sweet sex with him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his cock is very long with a redish purplish tip. He has a small case of pencil dick cus it’s not very gurthy rip Tendou

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high he wants you every day basically whenever you’re horny it’s safe to assume Tendou is also in the mood. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

like I said he dones’t get sleepy after sex really, but he does like to cuddle and he likes to watch you sleep while you’re curled up in his arms. 100% kisses your head while you sleep. 

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 17

Jason was having the time of his life.

Dick was sure of it. He might grump and sulk a lot more than before, but Dick was sure that he was having fun. Sure, guarding Damian might be a little more than tasking, after a while - especially since Damian was so certain that he could face Bane alone if it comes down to it, conveniently ignoring the fact that: a. he's ten and practically one-tenth of Bane's size; b. the Waynes most likely would detest having to clear intestines off the marble floor if Damian were to be let near a katana and/or Bane, and c. Alfred definitely would detest cleaning intestines or parts of Damian off the floor or walls.

And d. Bruce Wayne seemed to actually enjoy having Damian around and has no qualm in talking to Damian as if he was twice his age. Bruce's age, that is. Not Damian's. Dick suspected that Bruce has spent a lot of time talking to 60-year-olds.

But there were numerous forms of excitement that were offered by the Wayne Manor. First and foremost were the cars. Dick has never learned to drive - being a Talon kind of impeded the learning process of 'common human things'. Jason, however, was an excellent driver. He had mentioned something about being a getaway driver in warzones, and Dick couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or joking. Either way, he rather enjoyed it whenever he and Jason had to take Damian somewhere in town.

Except for today, as somebody seemed to have tampered with the car.

It wouldn't brake, and they were cruising really, really fast.

Hence Dick's belief that Jason was having fun. He did not look perturbed at the slightest as he controlled the car, swerving crazily over the backroads, making sharp u-turns instead of going into the city roads and went back where they came from. Within a mile from the Drake House's gate, Jason finally managed to cut down the speed to the point where the car's engines died and it rolled to a stop. On the Drake House's gate.

"Seriously, people," Tim remarked dryly as they walked in - leaving the car at the gate and settling their respective adrenaline back down. "I've heard of visiting the neighbors, but must you be like, dying and/or damaging people's property before you come here to say hi?"

"The car was tampered with," Damian reported. "Must be the brute. And I shall replace your gate, Drake."

"I think I'm down to like, eight lives. No-- seven." Dick admitted, "my heart's still beating a hundred miles per minute. Good thing, though, at least that way I know I'm quite alive."

"Dick, you're a bird. Not a cat." Tim deadpanned. His eyes never leaving Jason, who had lit up a cigarette as he walked through the house. "Since when do you smoke?"

"Since I was eleven," Jason replied. "And since I walked into a house that has laser triggers that were set up by a lunatic. Smoke worked to reveal them all."

"I'm... partially scowling because smoking kills. But I suppose laser triggers would kill faster..." Tim replied.

"The lasers are used to trigger booby traps just about Damian's height. If he were to be a common kid and run around the house, he'd be decapitated within the first few days." Jason continued bitterly. "What the fuck is wrong with that giant lump of steroids, anyway? He was ready to kill a child!"

"The nutshell version is that the child would prevent his usurping the Waynes' wealth." Tim pointed out. "The long version is that I don't think he's really the child of Dr Wayne, the Waynes know of it, and they're literally being held hostage in their own home. Also, you people are being watched, too, by drones. I've asked Harper to kill those drones for entering my property."

Tim then explained Bruce's visit and the USB. "Oracle has contacted him and told him we... the Birds, that is - are investigating the evidence."

"How long until we can punch the asshole out of the house for good?" Jason demanded, accepting a bottle of water Tim handed him. Slowly and gently. Making sure his fingers brushed Tim's. And Dick had to swallow a grin.

"That, unfortunately, would be up to the GCPD. Did you guys saw the news? Vicky Vale's article on Damian?" Tim... preened a little, waving his hair as he walked away from Jason. Dick's lips itched, he wondered if Barbara or the other girls -- if Selina or Dinah have noticed this. The two were definitely flirting.

"I have seen it. It had good pictures of my mother and grandfather, and quite... adequate descriptions of both of them." Damian replied. "Evidently father has made a comment to the writer about me looking like him when he was my age."

"Well, you kind of do look like him, except for the green eyes." Dick pointed out. Bruce's eyes were blue - like both his parents. But from the photos of little Brucie around the house, Dick could see a little of Martha Wayne in Damian's still-round face. "When did Bruce make the comment?"

"Oh, Vale called him." Tim snickered. "She still has his personal number, and she commented something about hearing a - quote: 'constipated buffalo sounds in the background' - unquote. She was also wondering if Bruce was in a bullfighting ring somewhere."

"Seriously?" Dick laughed.

"Seriously. Even Barbara couldn't stop laughing hearing that." Tim assured him. Jason rolled his eyes but looking amused, anyway.

"Sooo... a possible off-road accident for the apparent heir is in the books?" Jason suggested.

"I won't put it past Bane. Damian...?" Tim started. But Damian already nodded in acknowledgment.

"I shan't eat anything that is not presented by Todd or Grayson, nor will I frolic the manor on my own. This shall be more to bear witness to your insinuation of my 'child-like' behavior than to take care of me, Drake, as I am quite capable of sustaining my own life." Damian scoffed.

Tim paused visibly for a good two seconds, before nodding, "of course. Furthermore, I can assure you that Alfred is safe, mainly because as a butler, his focal interest would be the actual Waynes. That's in his training - unless an offspring is publicly announced, they are not to be cared for by the Butler. In Wayne Manor, the proverbial child would solely be Bruce - for obvious reasons, and Damian, whom Bruce has publicly acknowledged." Tim explained.

"He was in MI6," Jason remarked. "Alfred, that is. Not Bane. It would be safe to say he's loyal. He told me of the booby traps and that Bane has a daily dose of injection of the steroid-like substance. But I-- we shall prepare you emergency rations - just in case, anyway."

"You guys can always drop by here. And don't think that Damian would be Bane's only target." Tim reminded. "If I was him, I'd take out the big guns - that is you two - first; and then Bruce, because he'll want to be protective of his son; and then Dr and Mrs Wayne last."

"Then I'm afraid you are forgetting one of the members of the household that is most dangerous, Master Tim," a voice spoke; Jason pulled out his gun, Damian automatically hid behind him while pulling out a small dagger.

Dick wanted to lunge right toward the source of the voice until he realized that it was Alfred Pennyworth, both hands raised up to show that he was unarmed.

"How...?" Jason growled, "I didn't hear the front door open."

"Apologies, gentlemen. I should have informed you that there is an underground passageway between the two houses that were once used frequently, but now has all been forgotten." Alfred explained. "You were right that I was in MI6, Jason; as you were right that my focus will and forever shall remain the true Wayne blood, Master Tim. Not ones who claimed as such and refused to provide irrefutable evidence."

"Does Bane know of this passageway?" Tim asked.

"It is located in the staff's wing, and as he is not permitted to be there, I sincerely doubt it," Alfred replied. "I have my own... booby traps and surveillance that should tell me if anyone has been there." he smiled. "I am aware that both of you have prowled the entire house at one point or the other in the past few weeks." he nodded toward Jason and Dick. "You were stealthy, indeed."

"But not stealthy enough?" Dick quipped. "I gotta go back to training... Anyway, why are you here?"

"I saw your vehicle's mishap and its stop here. If anything, Bane is not... stealthy enough." Alfred pulled out a small memory card. "To get to the garage, one must pass the servants' hall. And the garage is my province."

Tim accepted the memory card, plugged it into his cellphone; and then projected its content to a wall. "Huh... this should be enough evidence of tampering..." Tim commented. The memory card showed a clear date stamp - that morning, a few hours before Bane and the Waynes left the house. It also showed Bane himself, jacking the car that was now resting with a dented bumper at Tim's gate, while holding a plier.

"Anyone watching our car now?" Dick commented. "Won't be cool to have it suddenly fixed, will it?"

"Harper should be. Plus, y'all are on my property. If he trespasses, I'll have his ass arrested." Tim huffed. "So... if anyone has ideas--" Jason and Damian's eyes lit up; Tim glared at them and continued "--that do not include sharp and/or exploding objects of how to remove Bane from the Manor..."

"I'm fresh out," Jason replied mournfully. "No sharp objects, no exploding objects... what do you expect me to do? Poison him?"

"But Todd, did my mother not teach you the arts of food as medicine?" Damian piped up.

The sudden silence as all eyes landed on Alfred was quite ominous.

"I will not conduct a crime, young masters," Alfred remarked dryly.

"Oh nooo... not a crime," Jason grinned mischievously. "It's just... you know that Damian was born in the Middle East, yeah?"

"I may have quite a culinary skill, but I fear that my Middle Eastern cuisine knowledge is rather limited," Alfred said demurely.

"Well, mine isn't." Jason grinned. "Besides, what else should one do to celebrate one's entrance into such a distinguished family; but hold a family dinner?"

"You're going to poison him." Dick groaned.

"Not to death!" Jason protested. Dick gave him an unimpressed glare. "Just... to the point where he would realize that he and I have opposing objectives."

"Do let me know of the ingredients you require, Jason." Alfred intoned. "Or perhaps you prefer to shop on your own? I shall fetch a new, un-tampered-with vehicle."

"Oh, please do, Alfred. I doubt we can make a single trip. But they will be fun." Jason replied, grinning.

Dick knew that the sense of foreboding was not in him only. Tim looked like he was contemplating moving away to Alaska.

"For the records, I don't know anything about cooking," Dick said defensively.

"I'm... truly and fully reconsidering my life choices," Tim admitted.

"Oh, don't worry, Drake. Todd was trained by the best," Damian grinned mischievously. "I pity the fools who think him as a brute. I pity the brute who think that small equals weak."

[royalelusts]

AYO BESTIE CAN I PLEASE GET A BAISE FLUFF ALPHABET SHES FROM HXH THE YORKNEW ARC

A/N: Sorry this took a minute. Writers block at its finest. This might be a little angsty in some parts. Spoilers from the Yorknew Arc for the ones who aren’t that far.

Fluff Alphabet - Baise x GN! Reader

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your voice. She could never get tired of listening to it. It could be filled with excitement about the simplest things or the certain tone you make when you pout because of her teasing. Absolutely love it and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your neck! She loves to bury her face in it and leaving little kisses all over it (depending on you things might escalate👀). It’s also a place of comfort after a bad day. She claims that your scent calms her down. It also gives her the excuse of being close to you.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

She really likes to have you lay your head on her chest. It’s a common occurrence for you to be laying on her on the couch while she’s scrolling through her phone. Also really enjoys having your head in her lap and vice-versa. When you start playing with her hair she just melts.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

At home dates. With her going on missions quite frequently, Baise wants to spend as much time with you as she can without distraction. If you want to go out she won’t try to deteriorate you. Just make sure to give her your full attention, okay?

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Did somebody say physical touch? She’ll kiss you, hug you, hold your hand, anything to br close to you. I headcanon that she’s secretly poetic as fuck so words of affirmation are really big too. Her compliments are always full of love.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

She’s kind of on the fence with it. She really doesn’t want to go through the whole birth process. Other than that though she might be into it. If she gets to see you smile with the kids

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Believes that love shouldn’t be measured in material things. It’s nice to give gifts once in a while but feels like it’s not the only aspect of affection. Don’t let that discourage you though! If you give/make her a gift she’ll shower you with compliments. Baise definitely has a special place to put everything.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Baise holds your hands all the time. While you two are cuddling, sleeping, walking around time, everywhere. Loves to give it a little squeeze every once in a while. OH she 100% kisses your hand just to see how flustered you get.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Her first priority would be to make sure nothing is an immediate threat to your life. After that, she’s going to fix you up and make you get some rest. Probably would get you to tell you what happened but wouldn’t really do anything. It’s not because she doesn’t care, it’s just that as long as you’re safe in her arms she’s content.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you?)

Yes. Nothing extreme of course but Baise does enjoy seeing you jump. Laughs whenever it happens. Also, she’s funny af so of course, y’all have jokes. A good handful of them are suggestive. She’s a giant tease as well. She has to let her sadistic behavior out some way.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sometimes Blaise can be a little hesitant to kiss you. Her nen can get in the way and the last thing she wants is for you to be affected by it. However, her favorite type are those deep passionate ones. She usually gives you one right before she leaves for a job. (I just thought about her giving you that kiss right before yorknew without knowing that was going to be her last. I’m sitting here sad now.)

L = Love (how do they show they love you?)

Physical touch is really big. Believes that actions speak louder than words. She also just really likes touching you. If that’s not your forte then she’ll go to the next best thing: gift-giving. Baise has really good taste so if she sees something she thinks you’ll like consider it bought.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

You two were on a date. It was at a field of flowers that you could pick. To be honest though you two were just playing around. Running and jumping around, laughing at each other’s antics. I mean who could ask for a better day. You two were standing under a tree sharing short and sweet kisses when a girl took a picture. It’s Blaise favorite. Whenever she’s doing a job she’ll look at it to remind her what she’s coming back to.

N = Nightmare (when is their worst fear?)

Someone coming to kill you. She’s worked and dealt with some nasty people. She also knows that people do come after others just because they feel like it. She would be absolutely torn if she came home one day to not only see that place trashed but to also see you laying on the floor lifeless.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

That she’s a heavy sleeper. It will take some time getting her up in the morning but that’s alright! There’s a foolproof way of getting her up…or it might end in her pulling you back to sleep. First make some tea. Then go into your shared room and begin placing soft kisses all over her face. She’ll begin to stir with that but it’s not enough! “Love, it’s time to get up. I made you some tea.” Baise will let out a groan before pulling you into her, placing a kiss on your head. “Why’re you always up so early?” is what you’re usually met with.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Regular ones like babe, love, lovebug, or, her personal favorite, the absolute love of her life. When she says this it’s always in a dramatic tone. Doesn’t do the shorter version of your name unless it’s a really serious topic and she needs you to be serious.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Baise is willing to do whatever you want to. She just wants to be close to you. Wanna cuddle? The pillows and blankets are all ready to go. Want to cook? She’s a decent chef so sure why not? Want to watch that show you’ve been binging? Let her get the popcorn.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Le Festin from the Ratatouille soundtrack. You two were cooking when it came on and acted like fancy chefs. It’s a very cherished memory between the both of you. I’m a Flirt by R. Kelly is one. Like the title it implies her flirtatious behavior towards you and how she likes to tease. Last but not least is I Met Sarah in the Bathroom. It reminds you of the last night you spent together before yorknew :(

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

At first not so much. It’s not because she didn’t want to open up. It’s just the fact that she wants to keep you safe. Eventually she’ll start venting her issues to you. Little by little she’ll get more comfortable just saying what’s bothering around you.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

A few years. Baise loved you and wants to spend the rest of her life with you. However she works a dangerous job. The last thing she wants is to drag you into something that could possibly end you.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Upon seeing you upset she’ll pull you into a hug. Rubbing your back asking what happened. If you decide not to tell her that’s fine. She’ll then ask you what you want to do. It can be going for a snack run, taking a walk, cuddling, anything. As long as she gets to see you smile again.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Hell yeah! On the occasion that you two go into town she’ll be proud that she gets to walk around with you. Proud that you chose her over everyone else.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting?)

Honestly would rather you not. The thought of you getting injured or worse haunts her. If you can fend for yourself then she can’t really stop you but she’ll be extra attentive to make sure nothing happens.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

With her occupation, she needs to be able to read people. So being able to read you comes with it too. If Baise sees that you’re upset she’ll walk up cupping your face in the process asking what’s wrong.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

It was one of this very rare occasions that Baise was up before you. She was standing on the balcony over the city in deep thought when your arms found their way around her. “Well someone’s up early.” You said in a teasing tone. She chuckled to herself, turning around to engulf you. “What’s on your mind?” She let out a sigh. “You can see right through me. As always.” Looking up, you were met with green eyes full of love and admiration but also concern and worry. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us..” Your breath hitched. You always knew that your safety was her highest priority. You knew she would brake it off if she deemed it unsafe. Was this it? Noticing how tense you got Baise kissed your temple. “You are the most important thing to me you know? Even if I wanted to I could never fully let you go so I’ve decided I want you forever.” You felt her slip out of your hold getting on one knee. “Will you grant me that wish and marry me?”

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Seeing you happy. It means that she’s doing what she’s supposed to. Your happiness is so important to her so just seeing you smiling and laughing makes her heart clench.

[ashtonq247]

SOKKA CENTRIC FICS

Here are some Sokka centric fics! Most of these works are not labeled as Sokka centric and so it’s very hard to find! There’s only 64 fics out of 15019 fics 

Keep in mind I did not do any Zukka or Tokka fics bc I did not want to wade through that esp bc Zukka fics are 80% Zuko centric. It’s also possible that I missed some fics as, again, they are kinda hard to get a hold of. I literally had to block the Zuko tag at one point bc if Zuko was a character in the fic, it was going to be about Zuko, and it was just a lot to wade through to find that one fic where Zuko was a character but wasn’t the main character. I think my chrome shut down at some point which could have caused me to not include some fics. Basically I’m saying I didn’t get everything but I got MOST of it. Like 80% of it, even if I didn't include things I personally don't really like to read-sorry. Show this to anyone who says Sokka isn’t underrated! my man got 64 out of 15019 fics! 

Also, PLEASE KUDOS THESE STORIES 👏👏👏👏 so many of them have far too little kudos and deserve more love! I think bc ppl are kinda bad with tagging, some of these stories hardly get any hits! Give them some love. And reblog this so other Sokka stans don’t have to wade through so much fics like I had to (seriously I’ve seen some crazy fics you would not believe *shivers*) bc it’s hard to find a needle in a haystack

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

 Aang

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326722 - cute tickle fight (pure fluff :DD)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984378 - Aang and nightmares, and Sokka and his big brother instincts

https://archiveofourown.org/works/488040 - Sokka and Tenzin, Sokka gets the news that Aang died (set in LOK)

-there is very little Aang and Sokka fanfic, let alone Sokka centric Aang and Sokka fanfic :(

Toph

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885884 - Sokka makes smth for Toph 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472509 - Toph dreams abt the airships

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720889 - “In the bad dreams, he loses his grip. In the worst ones he lets go”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229905 - Sokka teaches Toph to write her name

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718887 - Toph and hands, Sokka being her favorite hand to hold

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53498 -Sokka stuck in a cave

-there’s quite a lot of Toph and Sokka stories, not necessarily abt Sokka tho. They kinda go hand in hand, so it’s not really about one or the other.

Katara

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288189 - before they leave to fight Azula/airships 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946611 -Sokka sick fic :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005709 -katara apologises for what she said to Sokka

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277381 - Sokka wants to teach katara how to fight (also this is the first atla fanfic on AO3 that isn’t fucking weird lol)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523782 - the gaang is too young and too starving :(

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452795 - the only bender!Sokka story that has interested me bc it doesn’t take away from his character. It’s also vry satisfying to read

https://archiveofourown.org/works/404527 - Sokka’s feelings after his mom’s death- childhood

https://archiveofourown.org/works/404522 - “After the war Sokka says goodbye to his sister and the Southern Watertribe

-I wish there were more Sokka and Katara stories of before they met Aang.It’d be cute and angsty.

Zuko

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243948 - The gaang plays hide and seek/train, Zuko and Sokka team up to make a prtty good team- Sokka is rlly bad ass in this ;D it’s one of my favorites ngl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809161/chapters/60002182 - fire nation sokka- oof this one hurts :,)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305031 - like the only modern au that I rlly like, featuring Sokka on cactus juice and… McDonalds employee Zuko lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462145 - Sokka gets kidnapped. Sokka is… very Sokka ish in this

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475717/chapters/51180856#workskin -Zuko is a fire nation spirit, featuring Jet

-Zuko and Sokka stories tend to be well written, but it’s rlly hard trying to find a story with both of them that isn’t Zuko centric, and even some of the stories I have here are borderline Zuko centric 

Suki 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270624 - what Sokka feels every full moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338157 - stars, and both suki and Sokka contemplate being away from home

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423484 - “Sokka and learning to let himself be loved”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/648200 - “she should be jealous, she knows, of this ghost that clings to sokka”- it’s short but I love this one 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290874 - set right after boiling rock before they go back to the air temple. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/334919 - Sokka and suki dig up the secret library and try to strike a deal with its caretaker

The gaang

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348382 -basically a re telling of the Sokka’s master ep, but in Sokka’s POV 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303286 - the meaning of tattoos, and non bender tattoos 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426670 - “the gaang has a sleepover and Sokka manages to reforge bonds between the four nations while he’s unconscious”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252 -Sokka thinks of his place in the gaang (set after season 2) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24439972 - the gaang needs a potty brake and Sokka is annoyed (pure fluff :DD)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559357/chapters/59308846#workskin - spirit sensitive Sokka! Very interesting I’m invested and there’s only 2 chapters so far TvT (featuring Sokka w/ white hair 😩👌✨)

Hakoda 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004614 - Sokka being a child soldier, and Hakoda’s regret

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964113 - “how all the members of team avatar discover their bending abilities”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003291 - “Sokka gives himself his first warrior’s wolf tail” (pure fluff :DD)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24580543 -Sokka throws his first boomerang https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720004 - why Sokka never grew his hair out- child soldier/ insecurity stuff

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384172 - Sokka tells his dad about Yue 

Piandao 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/686093 - Sokka asks piandao to continue training him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/582971 - Sokka visits piandao to make a new sword and ask a question

https://archiveofourown.org/works/570663 - kinda piandao centric, but also Sokka centric? Piandao’s backstory and father figure feels :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/566995 - Sokka believes he’s simply ordinary, nothing special about him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580402 - “we do not induct children into the Order, Piandao!”

-there needs to be more Sokka and Piandao fics and I’m pissed because there’s more Zuko and piandao fics then there is Sokka and piando what kinda bs is this??

Yue

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676488 - kinda Yue centric but like Sokka centric too? It’s about her sacrifice and why, and the love she feels for him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443258 - it’s a full moon the night before Sokka and the other councilman judge a blood bender (set during that one ep in lok with that blood blender dude)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872200 - Sokka and Bumi (katara’s kid) have a sleepover. Sokka and old wounds

-I’m surprised there’s not more of them. Yue is always mentioned in Sokka centric fics, but not really the center of it

Other

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059851/chapters/57900052 - Sokka and Momo. I think this is spirit sensitive Sokka story abt Sokka being able to process his grief (also friendship with Momo yes)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/567004 - Sokka and boomerang, right after the war

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064682 - an au of sorts, dealing with a spirit in the southern water tribe that steals ppl. And like it’s sorta the only Kya and Sokka fanfic out there?? As far as I’m aware anyway

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209895 - a Sokka character study: he has more to him than meets the eye

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24636988 - Sokka before Aang, this is explaining why he’s the way he is

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611212 - Sokka meets a wolf spirit in the spirit world who questions his worth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201468/chapters/40447214 - haven’t actually read this srry all I know is that it’s time travel au, Sokka centric, and is one of the only stories with a lot of chapters (11 as of now)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/331690/chapters/535433 - “a series of unrelated drabbles centered around Sokka and his awesomeness” -29 chapters as of now (I haven’t read this one either)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/155711 -finally a story where Sokka is a strategic genius using his brains to help his friends and politics- set after the war

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992618 - Sokka and Space Sword, an interesting take for what happened after the war, where there isn’t rlly any good guys in war, and Sokka tries to find his sword

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2960030 - set after the war, Sokka returns to the South Pole and finds himself again as just the regular guy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722083 - Sokka’s thoughts on himself

https://archiveofourown.org/works/259980 - an au ofsorts, Katara dies by Azula and Aang is missing, and wars don’t just end- Sokka is vry cool in this

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547833 - Sokka and Kya II-  Sokka has to sit through kya’s singing of secret tunnel (pure fluff :D)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/887394 - Sokka and Kaatang’s and One of Toph’s kids (Sokka babysits, also HE INVENTS DND WHAT MORE COULD U WANT!!!) pure fluff :DD

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949257 - Uncle Sokka and Bumi’s relationship oof

-Uncle Sokka is highly underrated and so is Sokka’s relationship with his mom. I will also never get enough of character study fics

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What have I learned?? People who are writing a story about Sokka should tag that story as SOKKA CENTRIC. It’ll give ur fic more love, and make it easier for ppl who love Sokka to find a fic about him. Also, on tumblr you see all these great analyses on Sokka, with theories like Spirit sensitive!Sokka, or Sokka working for the white lotus, and yet there are hardly any fics on it??? The untapped potential?!?! We also have no idea what Sokka does in the future (still salty LOK) so this gives us a lot of room to imagine and create stories! Like I need a fanfic on how Sokka does wtf??? You’d have thought that with this atla renaissance and people gaining a new found respect and admiration for Sokka’s character, that there’d be more Sokka focused fics, but nope :( 

I’ve noticed that those who like Sokka don’t contribute to the fandom fic wise and guys we gotta step up (like I’m one to talk lol I’m gonna try and write some fics I swear!) 

Also if you still want more Sokka fics I suggest searching in the tags bender Sokka, water bender Sokka, and fire bender Sokka. I also suggest that you go to fanfiction.net. I know it’s old, but so is this fandom, which means a lot of fics are there too. It’s easier to wade through the fics on fan fiction.net than AO3 simply bc of how little tags you can put there, so if Sokka is tagged, you know he actually plays a part in the story (no shade on AO3 I love it but sometimes it’s hard to find stuff bc the tagging system relies on the people knowing how to use tags, and the avatar fandom does not, but that’s bc it’s old)

Anyway, LOVE SOKKA MORE and don’t forget to reblog and let other ppl get access to these fics bc I know I would have loved it if someone made an entire list! (And organized it lol I never thought I was capable of organizing)

And now I'm gonna tag the ppl who commented on that one post who wanted me to make it @talonsandsuch @ships-and-shitty-decisions @dearestpartnerofgreatness 

[cherry3point14]

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.) 

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better. 

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

[artisticestheticreads]

ROXANNE: Chapter Two

 A/N: Y’all won. Y’all got another series out of me. Happy? Anyways, here in the second chapter of ROXANNE. In this chapter, Erik gets to see Roxanne in action and they get to know each other a little better.

TO CATCH UP, PRESS THIS.

For Character Face Claims, PRESS HERE.

WARNING: Street racing, weaponry, drinking, smoking and gambling with cursing. Also, I used Google Translate so dialogue may not be accurate and the English translation is in bolded.

SONG RECOMMENDATION: The Box by Roddy Ricch

WORD COUNT: 4660

“RayRay, where my Nikes at, cuh”, Roxxx hollered down her hall of the one story home as Nipsey Hussle’s Question #1 played loudly. She wore her natural red hair in a high puff with curls tucked behind her ear. RayRay was in his room smoking a blunt and playing Call of Duty on PS4. The air was filled with the smoke making it gush under the door. Roxxx knocked on her little god brother’s door loudly. “RayRay, you seen my Nikes around here?”

“Which ones?”

“Negro, the one with the baby blue drip on the check sign. You already know what day it is, bro.”

“Nah, I ain’t see em. Sorry, sis”, he said in a nonchalant tone. Roxxx smacked her lips as she folded her arms. “Muthfucka, yo hood rat ass bitch better not have them or I’m rippin’ her fucking spine out that loose ass pussy of hers. And I know it’s loose because whenever y’all fuck, all I can hear is air and shit.” RayRay rolled his eyes still looking at the game and said “check the backdoor.” Roxxx placed her hands on her hips and said “why would they be there?” All of a sudden, a 6’2 sixteen year old with a goatee opened the door with a white shirt and basketball shorts on stood there. His hair was short and tapered around with bleached tips. “Because you asked me to wash them for you along with ya other sneakers, remember”, he said before pointing to the back door. There were her sneakers she had been looking for all day and more. Roxxx looked up at her brother as he smiled and said “don’t make me smack you.” She pulled him by his shirt to kiss his forehead and push it back. “Thanks, cuh. I’m about to head out to handle some business but I want you to look out for my package. I got some more sneakers and paint coming in. You know what to do when it hits the porch.”

  Roxxx gave RayRay dap and went back to her room to finish getting ready. She fluffed out hair before putting half up with curls by in front of her brows. She filled in her brows with her Fenty brow pencil and glossed her lips from the same line of cosmetics. She placed on her baby blue halter top with matching biker shorts and fanny pack, pushing it to the back. She stood in the full length mirror admiring the fit and her curves. She grabbed her money, gloss, and license in her fanny pack before putting her Swiss army knife in her tube sock. Roxxx stepped into her sneakers and her small leather bag before knocking on Ray’s door and leaving.

  Roxxx hopped in her Angel and fixed her hoop earrings. She drove through the Baldwin Hill streets and made her way to the local hang out for her street team, the Jungles. Every Sunday was the time to meet and talk about where to meet for and after the races. Also it was how she got her pay without any one trying to take her out in the process. She pulled up into the parking lot and noticed all the flashy cars, smiling to herself. She was the only woman in the group which meant she had to prove her title of the triple threat; Sexy, Smart and Speed racer. She was also one of the youngest at twenty six years old which meant people would try to get in her but she was too smart for that.

  One man with onyx skin looked her way. He had gold caps on his teeth, with all black on and fade haircut. “There she is. What it do, little sis”, he said with his arms out to the side and smile on his face. She hugged and they did their own handshake/salute. “What up, Chi? What’s the move for today?” They walked back to the group and she gave the others dap. “Nothing, really. But it’s time for y’all pay day. First up, Roxxx. You did well, girl. Proud of you as always. Minus my cut, you got a cool 450 thou.” He handed her stack of money and she placed the rolls in her bag. Chiron looked over at Deeno and said “aight, bruh. You and I already talked so you know how I feel about you placing 3rd, so you only get $45,000.” He handed the brown skin man the money, watching him stuff it in his duffle bag. After he gave everyone their cut, Roxxx began to speak. “Aight, y’all. Go ahead and handle y’all business and make ya way to my place.” Chiron added “and bring whatever y’all need. We gonna be there for a while.”

“Yeah, I gotta make sure y’all muthafuckas don’t embarrass me”, she said laughing.

 It was a basic Thursday afternoon when Erik was at the gym. He was working on his chest and triceps while wearing only black sweats and an old pair of off white Chuck Taylors. His scattered keloids always drew attention but he didn’t care; he was simply just say “keep staring and you’ll become one.” He stared at his reflection watching all the veins push up under his chestnut skin, muscles flexing.

  He began to do a few sets of sit ups to further chisel his abs as he gained the attention of a few women but he made them no mind. As he stood, to drink his water he couldn’t help but think of Roxanne. That woman was like no other. She lived life to the fullest, independent with an intriguing taste in cars. He wiped the sweat from his lip, just thinking about her made him get hotter every second; he had to focus so he can finish his last set.

  He stepped away from the machine with Bluetooth headphones in about to change the song but his fingertips had another idea. His thumb hovered over the car text from Roxxx. They had met last Saturday night but something was stopping him from texting her. He looked to the text again and leaned against the machine.

Across town, Roxxx was there on the porch of her one story home with surrounded by the other racers. They all sat around her as she had Deeno in between her thighs, braiding his hair in neat cornrows. She had a blunt hanging from her lips before passing it around.

“Alright, y’all. As we all know, tomorrow night is like any other. So, we got a bunch muthafuckas who sneak dissin and I ain’t with that shit at all so it’s time to put their money where they mouth is”, said Chiron in a serious tone. He looked around as licked his gold caps and continued. “Y’all already know the line up. Deeno, Big Tim, Justin and of course Roxxx”. Roxxx nodded her as she continued braiding.

“So, Chi. Where the meet up at? Is it still at the bridge in Inglewood?” Chiron nodded his head while smoking his blunt and said “these old cliche ass muthafuckas. Think this is Grand Theft Auto or something.” The group laughed as Roxxx shook her head. Before she knew it, her phone vibrated against her thigh. She looked down to see the text and rolled her eyes with a smile. She finished up the last braid on Deeno’s head.

Back at the gym, Erik was busy doing his chest press when the sound of his ringer went off. He placed the 300 lb bar back and sat up, picking up his phone to respond. Deeno tilted his head towards his teammate and rolled his eyes as she giggled at the screen. Erik stared at the text with a smirk and found himself typing.

    Roxanne placed her phone back down on the porch as she finished up Deeno’s last twist. She pushed at his shoulders for him to get up and Chi replaced his spot. As he sat, he stated how her phone was being blown up. She began cutting his hair, clippers and bent down in front where the member can see her thick bottom; Chiron noticed and gave them all a dirty look. “Don’t trip. It’s a dude that I met while racing.” The men all stopped and Justin asked “yo ass talkin’ to the competition”.

“Nigga, no. The fuck I look like trying to get wit them weak ass niggas. What y’all think I am? Some street car ass hoe”, she looked to them as she lined up the back of his head. They all said their nos except for Deeno...of course. “I mean I wouldn’t be surprised. Probably why you always winning.” Justin looked to Chiron and Roxxx shaking his head. Roxanne cracked her hand as she turned the clippers off to hand them to Chiron. “What did you just say”, she asked slowly walking to him and she stood in front of him.

“Man, don’t be like that Roxxx. I’m playin’ with yo cry baby ass.”

“Nah, it sounds like you got a problem because ya ass don’t know the difference between the gas pedal and brake.”

  Justin snickered but seized when he noticed Deeno looking at him. Deeno looked at her up and down and said “you lucky you a female because if you wasn’t-.” All of a sudden, Roxxx pulled out the glock she had hidden from the back of her waist band, holding it under chin while pulling his head back; they were eye to eye. “What ya gonna do, D, hmm? Beat me up like a nigga? We all know ya punk ass can’t fight for shit, cuh. You see the difference between you and I are, is that you all bark and no bite while I can talk the talk, walk the walk, and still kick a nigga’s ass or two. I can back up my shit talking and you can’t. How come I’m the only bitch in the group but got bigger balls than you?”

   Chiron nodded his head while drinking his Henny, watching and smiling. Roxxx made her way back to Chi with the gun still in her hand but stopped when he heard “yo ass wouldn’t shoot me no way.” Roxxx held the gun pointed to his, pulled the trigger making him flinch but he then realized, when he heard the click, the safety was on. Tim shook his head, chuckling and said “ol’ scary ass. You know Roxxx wouldn’t hurt her fam. She too sweet on us. She rather shoot niggas who fuck with us.” Roxxx gave her big brother, Tim, dap and went back to cutting Chi’s hair when she decided to check her messages.

   ______________________________________________________________

SATURDAY NIGHT

  Erik pulled up in his camouflage joggers, jean jacket, white tee and white All Stars when he noticed all the edgy yet expensive automobiles parked around; they even made his Jaguar look like a busted 2002 Nissan Altima. He also noticed the sea of people that stood around smoking, drinking and placing bets with huge wads of money. He looked around to see if he can spot Roxxx but she was nowhere in sight; he stood with the crowd as they all heard the siren on a megaphone go off.

There stood an albino woman who had a big, black fro, dark brows with slits in both and freckles. She wore a yellow jumpsuit with black combat boots and a matching leather jacket. “Good evening, everyone! And welcome to the best muthafucka night ever made. IT’S-“

“BET NIGHT”, the crowd, beside Erik, screamed before barking like dogs then seizing when she held her hand up. “Now, before we get started just know the rules. There is no rules except for no crashing into each other.”

Everyone cheered and she began to announce the racers. A few racers later, Mickey said “aight, this young lady come from the Jungle. Coming straight out of Inglewood, give it up for Roxxx a.k.a Lion Babe.” Roxxx drove her Lambo slowly as the guys followed behind on foot. She stepped out of her car standing and looking at the huge crowd; it looked as if she had on golden cat eye contacts. Her hair was blown out with braids on one side of her head going into the puff. She wore a white halter top, blue and black plaid shirt around her waist and black biker shorts. She also had on her white Air Force ones with the check sign dripping blue.

Erik clapped for her slowly as she flashed her golden fangs to the crowd once she used her pinkies to hold her bottom lip down. They chanted her name as the competitors all huddled up for the course plan. Chi looked over at Erik who watched and rose his brow once he noticed she was being watched. Chi leaned into Roxxx’s ear and said “we being watched, Roxxx.” She looked up at him to see his head tilted towards Erik.

Roxxx nodded at Erik and leaned onto Chi’s solid chest and whispered. “Don’t trip. He cool. That’s the same dude from night’s ago that I raced. Seems chill.” Chi nodded once as the huddled separated. Roxxx made her way over with hands in her pockets, standing in front of Erik. “I see ya found the spot.” She looked him up and down with a grin saying “ya look good.”

 “You do too”, Erik grinned back until he saw the group of men approaching them. All dark skin, tall and intimidating but to Erik; Roxanne liked that. She cleared her throat and said “Erik, these are my bros. Chiron, Tim, Deeno, and Justin. We all known each other for a while. They knew D’Angelo before he got murdered.” They all made a cross while closing their eyes and looked back at him. Erik nodded to them and said “nice to meet y’all, man. D and I went to school together. He was cool people.” They all nodded until Chi said “alright, Roxxx. The cameras are all set up and we got ya on mic so we can see ya feeling.” 

  Tim passed around the Henny bottle and Roxanne took an extremely long sip of it before passing it to Deeno; Erik was impressed. Roxanne did her salute to the group and made her way to the car, getting in and buckling up. The drivers began to take their places as Mickey took hers, holding the long yellow flag in the air. Everyone revved up their engines as they waited. Roxanne looked over at her group who nodded at her then she looked over to the cross dangling from the review mirror and finally at the pictures on her dash board.

   One had a smaller girl, about four in a fluffy dress and a pair of afro puffs her hair color. But that wasn’t the only person in the picture; there were two others. An older man held her left hand, with dark skin and a wide smile. His hair was in ginger toned dreads and the same cross was on his chain. The other child’s hand was held in the hand of a curvaceous woman. She was a plus size beauty with a huge fro that covered her forehead and she also wore a white smile; Roxanne smiled remembering them and kissed her fingers to place over their faces. She looked to the the other side and saw the huge faces she and a younger man wore. They were at the community pool after playing in the water all day; they were at least eighteen and a half in that picture. “This is for you, D’Angelo. Let’s get first place in this one, baby boy.” Her face harden as she watched the flag move in slow motion while she said her prayer.

“Your love and faithfulness, 

along with Your goodness and mercy, 

surround me daily, 

so I will not fear whatever might come against me. 

My trust is in You, God, 

and I give thanks to You for Your love and protection. In Jesus' name, 

Amen. Grant, O Lord, 

thy protection and in protection, strength.”

   The flag flowed and the race was off. Mickey watched as they were off and ran to the guys, crouching beside Chiron. “She looking good tonight”, she said and Chi agreed Erik watched Roxanne’s camera to see how she was doing, she was passing all of them up. “Roxxx, how you doing”, Tim asked and she responded. “Good so far. This muthafucka from the latin gang is on my ass though, bruh. Look like he tryna crash into me”, she sound a tad frustrated but couldn’t let it show. Justin shook his head and said “yeah, one of them niggas tried to get me during the bike race. They grimy as hell, man, but you got this shit, Roxxx.”

   The camera on her face showed her smile with the fangs and it made Erik smirk a tad. Roxanne began maneuvering in  moves that the other guys couldn’t catch on to. All she could hear was her God Mother’s voice saying, “keep it clean, baby girl, but make them fall.” She did just that as she turned a sharp turn on the course. Mickey hollered and said “so far, The Latin kings are last with Money Talks at fourth, Elm Street in Third and The Jungle in second and Crenshaw in first.” The crowd roared in cheer with a mixture of curses from people they were slowly losing their money.

   Roxanne kept her hands still when she heard the announcement as she kept her eyes on the winner so far. He was a few cars away but that wouldn’t stop Roxxx from getting to him. “Mickey, you gonna be saying The Jungle in first in a sec, love.” She began moving in between cars at ease and, right when the light turned red, she drove through traffic, losing the others. She was about to pat herself on the back when she heard the police driving behind the winning car. “Shit, you gotta get outta there before 12 call they niggas in”, Chi said. She had to make a move and make it fast. 

  That’s when Erik saw an alley coming into view. “Roxanne, take the alley. They won’t find ya in there and it’s on course. Take that and you would remain in the lead”, he said as he pointed at the screen. She took his advice and began driving back on to the course, in a different route. Chi looked to Erik and nodded before he went back to the screen. “Erik, how did you know that would work,” she asked and he said “trust me, I have had my share of hiding from the pigs”; that made her laugh. Before she knew she was back on course and ahead of the other drivers; they all soon pulled back in to the meet up at the Bridge and they crowd went off. Mickey grabbed her megaphone and said “THE WINNER IS ROXXX”; the crowd cheered but the Latin Kings were upset. “Man, fuck this! She cheated!” Mickey rolled her eyes and said “ok, how did she cheat?”

“The nigga with the dreads told her where to go.”

   The Jungle group looked to the other and said “man, fuck outta here. Every muthafucka in dis bitch help one another for one and two, you better be careful with that word”, Tim said wrapping his arm around Roxanne’s shoulders. One of the girlfriends from the rival team said “no, eso no es justo. Esa perra hizo trampa y todos lo sabemos. Probablemente esté chupando todas estas pollas negras y le dejaron ganar el culo. (No, that ain't fair. That bitch cheated and we all know it. She probably sucking all these niggas’ dicks and they let her ass win.)” Chiron looked to Roxanne who cracked her neck slowly walking to the group as the others watched. Roxanne stood in front of the girl with her knife in hand, slowly waving it as she said “en primer lugar, mi nombre es Roxxx. No perra En segundo lugar, no hice trampa porque ese callejón estaba en el camino y tercero, si escucho a alguno de ustedes decir nigga nuevamente, cortaré una herida tan profunda en su garganta, cualquier hombre que ponga su polla en su boca tendrá La mejor experiencia de garganta profunda que hayan tenido en su vida (First off, my name is Roxxx. Not bitch. Second, I did not cheat because that alley was on the course and third, if I hear any of y'all say nigga again, I will cut a gash so deep in your throat, any man who puts his dick in ya mouth will have the ultimate deep throat fuck experience they ever had in their life)”. Roxanne used her blade to cut a huge chunk of the girl’s hair with just the blade itself and that made the girl cry. 

   The crowd chuckled as the losing team left and everyone congratulated all the competitors; that was the ending. Roxanne looked to Erik as Chi talked to the other men. “What you doing now”, he asked and she shrugged. “We usually go out to our hang out spot and eat. You can come if you want. That’s if ya don’t have a dick appointment waiting for you.” Erik chuckled with his hands in pockets and said “nah, beautiful. I’m free tonight.” She rolled her eyes, smirking before they all met up at the diner.

   At the diner the guys all sat at one booth while Roxanne and Erik shared another. She sat across from him with her contacts out, back to their original oak wood color. Her eyes were on the menu but Erik’s were on her. Noticing how her plump, glossed lips looked in the dim light. He couldn’t help but to stare. Even if he tried to keep them away, they always fell back to her.  “Do you always like staring”, Roxanne said still looking at her menu. Erik’s eyes went for his and back to her face to see that she was looking at him. “Nah, you had something on your face.” She laughed once saying “I had something on my face?”

“Yeah, it’s gone now.” She rolled her eyes with a smirk as she folded her hands on the table and said “must have been real interesting because you were surely staring for a while, Erik.” Erik placed his menu down, still looking at her and said “it still is interesting.” Roxxx licked the inside of her cheek to hide the blush she gave. “Such a charmer, I see. I bet ya make females panties drop, huh?” She closed her menu and placed it to the side. Erik rested his arms on the booth and leaned back. “Not saying. Just know that no one claiming and neither am I.” She placed her leg on the booth and leaned her back onto the wall. Erik bit his lip as she looked at her and asked “why you single, hm? No niggas wanna be with someone as beautiful as you?”

“Because I don’t need a nigga”, she side eyed him and went back to her phone. Erik chuckled nervously, saying “I didn’t make you mad, did I?”; she shook her head. “Nah, I get that question a lot. But I just ain’t looking at the moment.” He nodded as the waitress came to their table with fries as their appetizers and took their order. “Can I get pastrami burger, well done with grilled onion and a lemonade with onion ring on the side, please”, Roxanne ordered after handing her the menu. “Sure, doll. And what can I get for you handsome”, the waitress asked Erik; Roxanne smiled while biting her bottom lip and shaking her head slowly. 

   Erik told her “I wanna get the breakfast special, steak medium rare, with wheat toast, scrambled cheese eggs, grits on the side and hash browns as well” before handing her the menu to her with a wink and smiled to the side. Once they lady walked away with heat rushing to her unknown place, Roxanne held a hand to her ear. “Do you hear that”, she motioned her hand going down and said “panties dropping.” Erik threw his napkin at her as she laughed. 

   Their food came out minutes later and he asked “so, where ya from? When you talk, I hear a slight accent in there.” She looked up at as she cut her burger in half and looked back at her plate. “You are very curious person.” He ate a piece of his steak and said “nah, just very observant.” She bit into her burger when she felt the other guys watching them as they ate. She sipped her drink and said “Jamaican. But I was born out here.” Erik can tell something was wrong when she looked around and saw that her leg was shaking a little. “Roxanne, you good”, Chi asked once he stood by the booth; she nodded and he said “Aight, I’m finna go finish this blunt with Tim outside.” Deeno and Justin watched from across the way and Roxanne felt all eyes on her as she ate. She cleared her throat before asking “so, Erik... why ya nickname Killmonger?”

  Erik looked up at her and saw that she was looking at him as she ate. “Well, that was my code name in the army. One of the boys at the platoon gave me the name. It was a joke a first because I would be getting all types of goo goo eyes from the ladies anywhere we went but then it became more.”

“What you mean?”

  Erik looked at the guys then at her and finally said “I killed a lot of people. Innocent or not, they were gone. You see every mark on me”, he asked and she leaned back, nodding. “Well, they are basically a mark for each person I murdered.” Her eyes looked over his arms and part of his chest that showed. Erik watched as her fingers got closer to his hand. “Can I touch them”, she asked with curious eyes; he nodded and her fingers danced up his arm slowly. She utter out loud “they’re really...”

“Weird?” She looked up at him and shook her head. He saw the warmth in her eyes, like a star trying to get through. She looked down at her hand, caressing the skin and said “soft and amazing.” He could only smile at her as she leaned back and looked to the guys. “Eat before y’all food get cold.” Deeno kissed his teeth and said “you can’t tell us what do.” As she ate, she pulled out her blade and placed it on the table close to the edge; the other men began eating as Erik chuckled.

   After the night meal, her group was all gone, leaving the pair alone. “So, what ya doing tomorrow? You trynna hang again”, he asked and she folded her arms. “I see someone is feeling me”, Roxanne said. He rolled his eyes and said “ha ha, funny.” She giggled and said “well, to answer ya question. I’ll be busy making moves and what not. But we can hang sometime next week. If ya up for it.”

“I got you. I’ll text you.” She nodded, held her hand out for him to shake and he accepted it. They shook hands but then all of a sudden, she kissed his cheek. “Good night, Erik. Stay black”, she said making him laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be anything else but black.” She let the door down and watched as he got into his car. Roxanne began to drive off when she got a call, and smiled. She placed her airpod in and said “I see someone missed me already. Of course, I miss you. You know that. Yeah, I’ll be home in a few. Aight, baby. Love you too. Bye.”

*𝕋𝔸𝔾𝔾𝔼𝔻 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼𝕊*

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756​ @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73​ @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz​ @chocolatedippedinhoney​ @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies​ @mbakuwife @youreadthatright​ @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy​ @yoyolovesbucky​ @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal​ @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78​ @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame​ @shookmcgookqueen​ @heykillmongerluhme​ @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame​ @ghostfacekill-monger @cherrystainedlipsbaby​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @fd-writes

[queennicoleinboots]

Taco Mac with Count Macrula and Count Macula, Jr., part 6

Colonel Mac, FreeLee the Banana Girl, and I were back at Publix to pick up ingredients for vegan Taco Mac. Michael the Great Arc Angel of course flew around and followed us. It is important to note that Colonel Mac wore a white MAGA mask: Make America Godly Again.

Colonel Mac was rattling off ingredients from his long list: corn tortillas, black beans, pinto beans, great white beans, brown rice, white rice, spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, jalapenos, onions, cilantro, Annie's vegan macaroni and cheese, Daiya cheddar cheeze shreds, red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, orange bell pepper, green bell pepper, limes, ground pepper, green tomatillos, red tomatillos, tobasco, and whole golden kernel corn.

"Are we getting more margarine?" FreeLee the Banana Girl asked.

"Oh yes, I forgot," Colonel Mac said.

"But we are not getting Blue Bonnet," I clarified.

"No, but are we getting Smart Balance with olive oil?" Colonel Mac asked.

"No," FreeLee the Banana Girl said.

"Really? That's the kind I usually get for Mr. Williamson and his wife," I said.

FreeLee the Banana Girl then stared at me as we were picking up all necessary items from produce: spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, jalapenos, onions, cilantro, red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, orange bell pepper, green bell pepper, limes, green tomatillos, and red tomatillos. She said, "You need to repent."

"Everyone's been saying that lately," I said. "And it is a process."

FreeLee the Banana Girl sighed. "Let's go to the margarine aisle. All of life's questions will be answered there," she said.

So we travelled clear on the other side of the store to the margarine aisle.

She pulled out the Smart Balance Margarine with olive oil from the refrigerator and read the ingredients. "Vegetable Oil Blend (Canola, Palm, Extra Virgin Olive, And Flaxseed Oils), Water, Less Than 2 Percent Of: Salt, Pea Protein, Natural And Artificial Flavors, Sunflower Lecithin, Vitamin A Palmitate, Beta Carotene (Color), Vitamin D, Monoglycerides Of Vegetable Fatty Acids (Emulsifier), And Potassium Sorbate, Lactic Acid, TBHQ and Calcium Disodium EDTA (to Protect Freshness)."

"TBHQ? What's that?" I asked.

"Precisely," FreeLee the Banana Girl said.

Colonel Mac looked up what TBHQ was on his smartphone. "Tert-Butylhydroquinone (TBHQ, tertiary butylhydroquinone) is a synthetic aromatic organic compound which is a type of phenol. It is a derivative of hydroquinone, substituted with a tert-butyl group," he read.

"So basically it's an oil we have no business eating it in the first place," I said.

"Exactly!" FreeLee the Banana Girl said.

Michael the Great Arc Angel said, "Wow. What the fuck? Thank Goodness I don't get that. But I must check my butter at home to ensure that there is no TBHQ in it. I shall return." He then flew out of the store.

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

Crickets with Angel wings chirped as they flew through Publix. When we walked by the free sample booth, a FreeLee the Banana Girl video popped up on the screen: https://youtu.be/ZRuytGHlpNc

Too long didn't watch: It is about what she eats on a high-carb fruitarian diet.

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

Michael the Great Arc Angel then screamed as he flew to the margarine aisle.

Everyone in the store looked at Michael the Great Arc Angel and gave him their undivided attention.

"Fucking hell! I had Smart Balance! So what if it is on sale?! It is poisoning humankind! I must burn it! XARA! Open the glass door with the Smart Balance margarine in it!" Michael the Great Arc Angel shouted.

I opened the glass door with the Smart Balance margarine in it.

Michael the Great Arc Angel shot blue death rays out of his eyes and burned all products related to Smart Balance margarine and screamed.

FreeLee the Banana Girl screamed. Everyone in the store screamed.

"But remember. Save the Earth Balance margarine. It's legit," FreeLee the Banana Girl said in a normal voice. She then grabbed the Earth Balance Soy Free margarine and put it in the cart.

The Grinch then hobbled over and screamed. "Smart Balance is a balance of over-price and chemical deathhhhhh," he said. Then he hobbled away.

Michael the Great Arc Angel then announced, "If we were not making vegan Taco Mac with Count Colonel Mac-"

FreeLee the Banana Girl, Colonel Mac, The Grinch, Paul the Goat, Smeagull, the cast of PeeWee Herman, and everyone in the store screamed. "Taco Mac with Colonel Mac" was still the phrase of the last four months. Wait?! He said "Count Colonel Mac." When did Colonel Mac become a Count?

Michael the Great Arc Angel then continued, "Then I would prefer butter or a buttery spread."

"Agreed!" Colonel Mac, other non-vegans, and I said with authority. "Wait? I'm a Count now?'

"Not that I use much butter, but I know better than to use margarine on my own account. It is evil," Michael the Great Arc Angel shouted. "And yes. I dub thee Count. It's Halloween. Colonel is not sufficient for your caliber."

Paul the Goat bleated loudly.

"In that case, am I granted vampiric powers?" Count Colonel Mac asked as he rode around Publix with Michael the Great Arc Angel.

"Absolutely!" Michael the Great Arc Angel said with a salesangel smile as he pointed his two index fingers at Count Colonel Mac dramatically. "And a cape to boot!"

"Oh boy! Grant me vampiric powers!" Count Colonel Mac spoke with excitement.

"As you wish," Michael the Great Arc Angel said with a huge smile before he chanted in a dark angelic language.

All shoppers were watching with awe.

Michael the Great Arc Angel continued to chant as Publix was getting darker.

Count Colonel Mac was smiling widely, and his teeth were getting sharper. He growled with excitement.

Michael the Great Arc Angel continued to chant before he sang and danced to Voltaire's song of "Brains.": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpLRJyWe814 He was definitely a character of the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy when that show was popular.

OH SHIT!

Michael the Great Arc Angel stopped everything after he sang the last note of "Brains" for just a liiiittle too long.

Count Colonel Mac turned into a gray vampire cub who wore a cape. He was just sitting in his chair.

Everyone gasped.

Michael the Great Arc Angel looked over and gasped in horror. "OH SHIT!!!! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I held that note for just a liiiiiittle too long. Oh God I gotta reverse this!" he spoke quickly and frantically.

Count Colonel Mac looked down at his paws before his glasses fell off and grinned widely. "COOL!!!" he said in a high-pitched Southern accent.

"You're okay with this?" Michael the Great Arc Angel said with his eyebrow raised

"YEAH!" Count Colonel Mac said as he jumped out of his chair. "I can walk! I can walk! I'm not in pain!" he started to skip. "And I'm wearing a cape, motherfuckers!" He skipped around the store and growled cheerfully. His black cape swished behind him.

"Awwwww!!!!" everyone in the store said.

"Count Colonel Mac is so cute," I said.

He turned around, skipped over to me, and looked up to me. "I am not a Colonel. I have no affiliation with the military. I only accepted the name because you needed a Colonel to replace Colonel America. So I took the honor. Also, KFC is an insult to chicken," he spoke with a cute cub growl.

"YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT!" Michael the Great Arc Angel shouted. "Keep going."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Count Mac(?) said. "Also, Popeyes is a much better option for fastfood fried chicken."

"LOVE THAT CHICKEN FROM POPEYES!" Aunt Jemima sang. She's still relevant?

"Yes, I do. Anyway, like I said, I am not affiliated with the military, nor do I ever want to be. I'm a gray cub first and foremost. We are the most passive species of bear, next to the white bear. But... I was cursed with gray fur, becuz you know, I am a vampirebear... vam...bear. Vambear! Vampire creatures can't be blessed. Anyway anyway anyway anyway anyway anyway anyway, I am now..." the gray vambear cub said before he took a deep breath. Then in a booming voice, he said, "Count MACULA!!!!!" He then laughed an evil laugh.

Everyone, including the cast of PeeWee Herman, screamed.

"I dig it!" Michael the Great Arc Angel shouted.

"So the story should now be called "Taco Mac with Count Macula, part 6?" I asked.

The cast of PeeWee Herman, FreeLee the Banana Girl, the Grinch, Seagull, and Paul the Goat screamed.

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

"Yes," Count Macula said. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."

"No!" Michael the Great Arc Angel protested.

Count Macula blinked. "But... I've been the title character for the past five stories. Why would this one be different?" he asked.

"I AM THE ONE WHO GRANTED YOU THE POWERS!!!" Michael the Great Arc Angel shouted. The foundation of Publix shook.

"I don't mean to be rude, but Taco Mac with Michael The Great Arc Angel is kind of a long-winded title," Count Macula said.

"I AGREE!!!" Michael the Great Arc Angel said. "But who says I am keeping this title?"

"No one," Count Macula said.

"Exactly! I am Count MACRULA!" the angel said before thunder, lightning, and darkness came upon him. He transformed into a dark angel. His wings were as black as night. He now wore a black tie with fire on it, a black dress shirt, black slacks, black shoes, and a long black cape. His skin was as white as snow, and he had a fiery red beard. "Happy Halloween, Mother Fuckers!"

"Happy Halloween, Count Macrula," Count Macula said.

"Thank you. Also, I dub thee Count Macula, Jr.," Count Macrula said with a booming voice.

"OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! OKAY!" Count Macula, Jr. shouted. "I am only seven after all."

"I have spoken!" Count Macrula said.

"There should be a story called 'Count Macrula Has Spoken,'" Count Macula, Jr. pointed out.

"Absolutely! But this is NOT that story," Count Macrula said.

"No. But Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing has a story with a title of him speaking. If he can have it, you should have one, too," Count Macrula, Jr. said.

"You are goddamn right!" Count Macrula said.

"THAT'S GREAT! WHAT ARE WE CALLING THIS STORY!?" FreeLee the Banana Girl yelled.

"Taco Mac with Count Macrula and Count Macula, Jr.," I decided.

"Part 6!" Count Macrula and Count Macula, Jr. shouted.

"Part 6," I confirmed.

"Can we get on with the shopping then?!" FreeLee the Banana Girl asked.

"Yes," Count Macrula said.

FreeLee the Banana Girl, Count Macula, Jr., Count Macrula, and I continued to shop. We picked up Annie's vegan macaroni and cheese, canned pinto beans, canned black beans, canned great white canned beans, corn tortillas, bags of brown rice, bags of white rice, and Daiya cheddar cheeze shreds.

FreeLee the Banana Girl then looked around the canned vegetable aisle to look for the canned whole golden kernel corn.

FreeLee the Banana Girl looked frantically for the golden whole kernel corn while I was absent-mindedly putting the other groceries in the cart.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CORN?” FreeLee the Banana Girl screamed loudly to the point where the whole store could hear. Count Macula, Jr. dropped the list because he was shocked at the random loud volume of FreeLee the Banana Girl's voice. “Count Macula, Jr., find the fucking corn now. What the hell? Where the hell’s my corn, Count Macula, Jr.?”

“I don’t know! I'm trying. Stop yelling at me!” Count Macula, Jr. said as he was crying and slumping his shoulders.

I was slightly shocked when a Jewish Karen joined in with her voice. “Yeah, where the fuck is ze corn? You’d think canned corn would be easy to find in a fuckin’ grocery store,” she yelled.

A store associate rushed to the scene in a panic. “What kind of corn are you looking for, ma’am?” she asked.

Another woman sales associate chimed in, “We’d love to help.”

“Golden kernel,” FreeLee the Banana Girl said.

Everyone in the store was looking for the corn she mentioned. Even Count Macula, Jr. and I were in on looking for it. I wanted FreeLee the Banana Girl and the Karens to shut the fuck up. I lifted Count Macula, Jr. in my arms as we looked for the corn.

“No, no, not here, dammit,” the Jewish Karen said. “Son ov a bitch!”

“Not here,” Count Macula, Jr. said.

“Is this it, ma’am?” one of the customers asked her.

Count Macula, Jr. randomly farted. It smelled like too much tacos. 

“No! I said ‘Golden kernel,’ you stupid mother fucker!” FreeLee the Banana Girl yelled. “I already told you. ‘Golden kernel’ ‘Golden kernel’ Goddammit!”

“Sorry, ma’am, Jesus Christ, please help us find this ‘Golden kernel’ corn,” he said.

“Jesus Christ wasn’t born yet,” the Jewish Karen interrupted. “SHIT WHERE THE FUCK IS FREELEE’S CORN?”

“All of a sudden my corn is gone. It has been on this particular aisle for ages. Why is it gone? Where the fuck is the CORN?” FreeLee the Banana Girl ranted.

Count Macrula carried several cans of whole golden kernel corn as he flew to the carts we were pushing. Angels and Lord vampires literally sang as he flew. It had no added salt, so the angels and Lord vampires sang even louder.

He saved Publix.

"Really Publix saved Publix. It had this corn in stock. And I found it. They didn't move it 40 feet down like the Publix on 11 did two years ago," Count Macrula pointed out. He flapped his wings quickly for effect.

"But you still found the corn and saved Publix," I said.

He stared at me. I stared at him. We blinked. There was a moment in which I was honored by his darkness.

"Thank God Publix can stay alive. Now can we pleeeasssse get out of here!? I would like to get over this Taco Mac with me series and move on," Count Macula, Jr. said. "And if I have to listen to ingredients ONE TIME, I am going to scream."

Count Macrula, FreeLee the Banana Girl, the cast of PeeWee Herman, the Grinch, Smeagull, Garfield, and everyone in the store screamed.

"At least no one is reading ingredients. Ugh!" Count Macula, Jr. said as he ran like the cub he was to the check-out.

"In non-GMO, organic, gluten-free corn tortillas, they have WATER, STONEGROUND ORGANIC YELLOW CORN MASA FLOUR, ORGANIC GUAR GUM, and LIME," I said as I read the ingredients just to troll Count Macula, Jr.

Count Macula, Jr. screamed so loud that everyone else started screaming. "THAT'S ABUSE!!!!!" he shouted.

Paul the Goat even walked back in the store and bleated.

Then we went to check-out because Count Macula, Jr. just couldn't take anymore.

[izzy-b-hands]

Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 2nd: Omens

The randomly assigned lad for this prompt: Roger

A quick synopsis: Queen, six sweet black kittens, and superstition. Set sometime around 1975. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“They aren’t omens!” Roger protested. “They’re adorable!” 

“He’s right,” Freddie said. “I’m as superstitious as any other man, but you two are being ridiculous. They’re kittens, for pity’s sake!” 

The six black kittens Roger had found outside, apparently abandoned in a box near the studio, now roamed their rehearsal/recording space. 

Which included one trying to climb up John’s leg. 

“No, I’m sorry, but you are very bad luck,” John said, trying not to look down at the kitten. “Please go away.” 

“Now you’re just being mean,” Roger scolded, and went to pick the kitten up, giving it a soft kiss on the head as it mewed. “I know! How can he be so cruel to someone so cute?” 

“With all due respect,” Brian said. “You had to cross under a ladder, which scared the man on it so he nearly fell off, which frightened the movers across the street who dropped the mirror they were carrying which shattered, and you managed to step on a good few sidewalk cracks during all of it too...to rescue six black cats.” 

“Yeah?” Roger scoffed. “And I’d do it all over again! Wouldn’t I, Mini-Rog?” 

The kitten purred, and Brian gave Roger a look. “Really?” 

“He clearly fits my name,” Roger replied. “But we’ve got to know which Roger you need if you call, so...Mini-Rog!” 

“Brian, Deaky,” Freddie laughed. “How old are you two? It’s just cats! And they’ll only be here for today; I called my mum, and she has six friends who are more than happy to come by and pick these darlings up, to give them good homes.” 

“We ought to warn them, when they come to get the cats,” John said. “It’s only right.” 

“Warn them about what?” Freddie asked. 

“How we found the cats,” John replied. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Freddie sighed. “If you two are going to insist on being this way, then just start working on something, and Roger and I will protect you. We’ll play with the sweet, tiny, kittens, and keep them far away from you.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Brian muttered. 

“Could jinx whatever song we’re working on,” John remarked. 

“Important point,” Brian nodded. 

Freddie scowled. “That’s enough of this. Roger, help me wrangle them. We’re going to go have a nice time waiting together in the lobby for Mum’s friends, while these two sit in here and work!” 

“Don’t mind that, actually,” John said, but his words went ignored as Freddie and Roger grabbed up the kittens and carried them into the lobby. 

“I cannot believe them,” Roger frowned. “All this, over kittens!” 

“I know,” Freddie sighed. “Maybe they’ll get it out of their system with all of us in here.”

He snuggled one of the kittens gently as it lay on his shoulder, purring in his ear. “You’re just a baby! What could you do to them, hm?” 

The kitten mewed, as if in reply. 

“Exactly!” Roger said. “They’re being silly. You lot are little angels, aren’t you?” 

Three of the kittens meowed all at once at that, and they giggled as they settled in to watch them roam. 

“How much do you think they’ll manage to get done anyway?” Roger asked. “All the while pissing themselves over these horribly dangerous babies being only a room away.” 

“Maybe not much,” Freddie admitted. “But that’s fine. So long as they calm d-” 

There was a screech of tires and brakes outside, and they went to the open window to observe, mindful of the kittens crowding at their feet. 

On the street outside sat a stopped car, the engine smoking. A man stood over the opened hood, frowning, while his passenger, a woman who seemed about his age, leaned out the window. 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“Not a clue!” the man called back. “Should be running fine, the damn thing is brand new! I can’t figure it out...” 

Roger and Freddie stepped back from the window and adjourned to their chairs, frowning. 

“Huh,” Freddie said. “Well...bad luck for them.” 

Roger only nodded, and their eyes fell on the exploring and playing kittens.

---

“Thank you again,” Freddie smiled as he led the latest family out of the studio lobby. “I’ll be sure to let Mum know you said hello!” 

Five of the six kittens had been picked up now, and thus far, it had been uneventful aside from the earlier problem outside. 

“Could fall asleep sitting here,” Roger murmured, the last kitten asleep and curled up in his half-unzipped sweatshirt. “Mini-Rog has the right idea.” 

“Bit bright in here for that,” Freddie said, even as he yawned. 

Above them, the small ornate glass light fixture flickered twice, went out...and shattered. 

“What the fuck?” Roger shouted, turning quickly to keep the kitten away from the flying glass. 

“Coincidence,” Freddie said softly, nervously, as he carefully walked over the broken glass to help Roger up and away from it. 

“Has to be,” Roger agreed, taking Freddie’s hand and staring up at the shattered fixture and bulb as they moved. 

“Has to be,” Freddie echoed. 

Neither of them wanted to tackle clean up with the kitten still around to possibly get hurt on the glass, so they stayed at the side of the room near the door, that had the least glass spray out towards it. Mini-Rog was plenty happy to remain tucked up in Roger’s sweatshirt, though now wide awake, with yellow eyes peering out at them. 

All three of them jumped when the lobby phone rang. 

“Let me, you two stay here,” Freddie said, and carefully darted around shards of glass to reach the phone. 

“Yes? This is. About the-oh. No, I understand. Things happen, and it’s good you checked before you came down. It’s a shame for him, but we still appreciate your interest. Thank you for letting us know.” 

Freddie hung up the phone, and sighed. “The last family won’t be coming. They decided to test out their youngest around cats, and took him to see the neighbor's cat, since their previous cat died before he was born. Turns out, he’s allergic.” 

“That’s a shame,” Roger said. “Is he alright?” 

“Covered in hives and not very happy, from the sounds of it,” Freddie replied. “God, my landlord will kill me...but I could try and find room for another cat.” 

“I don’t think you’ll have to try very hard,” Roger teased. 

“No, not really,” Freddie smiled. “He’ll have plenty of room and love, even if my landlord can never find out about him.” 

“I could maybe take him,” Roger said. “Didn’t intend to be adding to the family right now, so to speak, but-” 

Brian interrupted him as he charged into the lobby, and sighed happily at the sight of Mini-Rog. 

“Okay. We’ll be okay.” 

“We are?” Roger said, curiously. “Are you?” 

“Chrissie called the other line,” Brian replied. “Squeaky’s been a bit out of sorts, you know?” 

They nodded. It had been a topic of the last few weeks, with everyone concerned for Brian’s dear cat, who didn’t seem old enough to be having such troubles. 

“The vet doesn’t think she’s ill, just...getting old, and sort of succumbing to it?” Brian said, struggling to run a hand through his curls. “They suggested we get her a younger friend. Said she might move about more, do better, maybe even mother them a bit and get some vitality back that way.” 

“So,” he continued with a sigh. “If you two and Mini-Rog can forgive my previous behavior, and if whoever was coming to get him can’t make it...Chrissie and I would be happy to give him a home. Four birds with one stone, that way, you know? Mini-Rog with a warm house and love, Squeaky doing better, and then Chrissie and I don’t have to argue over who the cat choses to fall asleep on whenever we’re both home relaxing.” 

“I think we can,” Roger said. “And you’re in good luck; the last family can’t take him. He’s all yours.” 

Brian took the kitten from Roger, and in the process, peeked at its underside. “Erm. Rog? She’s all ours, you mean.” 

“Oh!” Roger said. “Well, suppose I hadn’t looked at that. The name still fits her well.” 

“Yes, it does,” Brian said. “Hopefully you can forgive me, Mini-Rog. Turns out you were very good luck indeed!” 

He peered around the room as he delicately gave Mini-Rog a kiss on the head. “What on earth happened in here though? Did you two have them climbing the walls or something?” 

Roger and Freddie flashed each other a look. 

“No,” Freddie said. “Fixture must have been old. Finally fell to bits, and wouldn’t it have to choose now to do it?” 

Brian nodded. “You both alright? No glass stuck in anyone?” 

“We’re fine,” Roger said. “We’ll clean up, and meet you back in there. Why don’t you go introduce John to the new family member?” 

“If he won’t be afraid of her this time,” Freddie joked.

Brian blushed. “We both owe you two an apology for that. We were being silly. How many hours were these kittens here, and what’s the worst that happens? A broken mirror, a light fixture? That man didn’t even fall off the ladder, and the sidewalk cracks...I was being ridiculous.” 

“Apology accepted,” Roger smiled, then breathed a sigh as soon as Brian was out of the room. “We can never let them know about the car.” 

“It probably really was a coincidence,” Freddie said. “Just...a good few coincidences all in one day.” 

“Totally plausible,” Roger said, his tone uncertain.

“Right,” Freddie nodded, but he peeked outside to watch the people trying and failing to tow the still-smoking car away, as the third tow truck in a row died as soon as it hit the road the studio was on. 

Purely a coincidence, and nothing more. 

[glassesandkim]

Can I request #14 from the angst category for Schmico please? 💓

The prompt: “Can you shut up for once in your life?” Okay, I sorta kinda put it in there and it’s not dialogue but it’s there! Enjoy :D 

“Shepherd says I have a concussion.”

Nico’s standing at the doorway, watching Levi, who’s lying on a hospital bed and in a gown. It’s weird to see him in those. It’s not something Nico had ever thought he’d ever see Levi in. But he’s there, bruises on his arms and looking more tired than he’s ever looked, hooked up to fluids and one bare foot sticking out of the hospital’s sad excuse for blankets.

It’s hard to swallow and Nico’s eyes, they start to burn. He wants to ask Levi a million things but he’s afraid of what will happen once he opens his mouth.

He thinks of all the things that have happened this week. How everything’s fucked up and how it’s all because of him. Killing Josh. The other doctors babysitting him and questioning him. And Levi… The world seems to be spiralling downward uncontrollably as Nico stands unmoving.

He doesn’t know what he can do without something snapping or breaking the way he doesn’t want it to. So Nico does the safe thing, he hopes, and looks away from Levi’s searching gaze and hones in on the one thing in the room that’s familiar. He walks up to the foot of the bed and grabs his chart, flips through it and tries to focus on what’s been diagnosed, what’s been recommended as treatment, Levi’s labs and his scans, but even that — something Nico’s done dozens of times — seems futile.

Apparently, he can’t read or even think right now.

So he puts the chart down again, having processed zero information, and just stands there, staring at Levi’s foot.

“I’m not allowed to fall asleep,” Levi starts again but stops. There’s a little inflection of hope in Levi’s tone and Nico expects Levi to go on to tell the story of how Dr. Hunt and him saved a VIP blood donor from a pile up on the highway but he doesn’t. Levi just sucks in a shaky breath and stops.

He doesn’t do well with silence, Nico’s realized after months of being with Levi. He’d soon break into a diatribe of unconscious babble than stay silent for longer than five minutes.

It’s one of the many things he liked about Levi when they first got together, as Nico isn’t always the best conversationalist so having someone there, constantly and effortlessly filling up every moment made every minute become something interesting and fascinating. It's a blessing sometimes and other times, is a tiresome flaw that in the best of moods, amuses Nico.

But Levi’s oddly quiet now. Nico looks up for a moment, just to make sure Levi hadn’t actually fallen asleep and was still alive. But Levi’s awake, wide eyed and staring something sad right back at Nico. He adverts his gaze again quickly back to Levi’s apparently very interesting foot.

Nico sighs but it does nothing to release the growing ball of tenseness in his chest.

He should say something — anything. Nico tries to think of a good conversation starter: The weather sucks, huh? Yeah, no, shit, Kim. It’s foggy and it’s why your boyfriend is broken in a bed. Are they even still boyfriends? How’s your head? Well, probably not great seeing as he’s got a concussion and all. So Altman had a baby. Not exactly something Nico particularly cares about or wants to talk about beyond that.

He settles for: “Your foot cold?”

It’s not even a real sentence. Not even one that makes grammatical sense. Your foot cold? Like he’s a caveman asking for fire to warm up his useless stone cold heart.

Nico fucking sucks at this.

“What?” Levi says and Nico finds himself echoing the same sentiment in his own head.

“Nothing,” Nico sighs and thinks he should just leave. Maybe come back when he’s not a complete idiot and incompetent colleague, boyfriend, doctor — whatever he is now to Levi after everything that’s happened. After he’s pushed away the one and only person that he cares about and who cares about him just as much. Who’s told him he loves him and is his first love. Who is trying his hardest, despite all of his faults, just to be Nico’s supportive person.

The person that he loves so much himself that when Link told him to let Dr. Webber close up because Levi had been in the middle of a thirty car pile up with Hunt, Nico’s heart had practically stopped right there and would’ve broken into a million pieces before him if Link hadn’t followed up quickly with the words, “But he’s okay.”

Bokhee had had to practically body slam him against the door to be able to yank off his bloody gown and gloves before he left the OR.

And now he’s here, awkwardly standing at the foot of a hospital bed and not being able to look into the eyes of the person he wants to kiss so badly and who he hasn’t kissed since yelling at them to shut up for once in their life. Nico’s just glad Levi’s fine and that the last words he said to Levi won’t be something angry and red like an inflamed and infected body part.

They can heal from here. He knows they can. If only Nico could say something better than Your foot cold?

Nico gingerly pulls the blanket to cover up Levi’s foot and rests a hand on top, blinking back tears that had shown up in his eyes uninvited the moment he saw Levi in the room all bruised and tired and thankfully, not dead.

“I’m sorry.”

Nico looks up. It’s Levi who says the words Nico had been struggling to find. Levi’s biting his bottom lip and shrugging and seems to want to say something more but stops himself again.

Nico suddenly hates that Levi’s doing this now.

“For what?” Nico manages and grips Levi’s foot a little harder in his hand when he sees Levi fighting back his own tears.

“I don’t know. For being a shitty boyfriend? For not actually giving you those flowers and for pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to. I’m sorry, Nico. I’m sorry I couldn’t understand and I miss you and god, I miss you so much. I—I —”

Levi’s full on crying now, tears spilling and expression contorted against a reddening face. And Nico finds himself jumping over the bed railing, just barely able to avoid crushing Levi’s knee caps and crawling up right beside the other man who is suddenly uncontrollably crying and sobbing and blabbering. Nico thinks it’s probably the shock from the trauma of the pile up finally wearing off and maybe a little bit of the frustration from having to deal with Nico who’s been a right fucking ass if he was being honest. 

And he’s been such an ass to himself too for so long. Unwilling to let himself forget, to process, to forgive. 

Nico should forgive himself, the little voice inside screams this at him. 

He catches Levi’s hand and holds it desperately and tightly against his chest and forcibly buries his own face into Levi’s neck. Levi struggles a bit, but ultimately gives in, his heaving sobs slowing as tears wet the side of Nico’s head.

And now Nico’s crying now too, freely, like Levi’s tears are contagious. He cries in relief as he hears every living breath Levi gives, cries in sadness at all the harsh and hurtful things he said, and cries in agony in memory of a dead Josh. The sound of Josh’s flatlined heart that he’s been hearing in his head for days now goes quiet as he listens to Levi.

Nico feels clearer now, like something that had been gripping his whole being finally released its suffocating hold. And he’s so tired, he realizes as he holds Levi closer to him. The endless days of throwing himself into work just to ignore all his feelings and drown out the fact that someone was dead because of him finally catches up and slams the brakes on his sad train with force.

Nico ends up saying a lot of things, surprisingly, things he won’t exactly remember later and Nico’s almost afraid his voice will give from it all. But they’re filled with apologies and explanations and sweet promises to Levi that he adamantly plans to keep.

And Levi listens, as best as Levi can. They reach their rhythm again, a better one than before. Levi kisses Nico for the first time in days and it’s good and it’s missed.

Fuck, he loves Levi so much and he tells him exactly that.

And after all the not-talking, all the crying, all the actual talking and finally getting the go ahead to sleep and rest from a flustered Shepherd who walks into the room to find two grown men clutching one another with swollen cried-out eyes, the world finally feels a little bit okay again.

[isaacathom]

also i talked about my scifi story for like half an hour (to myself, natch) and figured out that a good way to handle the AB thing is not to have A decide to ruin the plan out of nowhere by trying to get back to the army base, setting off the system and putting B at risk because Oh Shit. its to have A be arrested for like. hacking and shit, planetside. And, of course, they take ID in that arrest (which would place the criminal mark next to B, whose only crime has been impersonation with permission and some minor licensing shenanigans that come from that), but they also take dna/biometric data, because, yknow, Fake Ids, etc. and yknow, they get the data from A, and it shows up as them being A, and everyones like :T HMMM. A is adamant that they are B, but their colleagues who were arrested with them kinda fuck that by referring to them as A (yknow, Shenanigans).

meanwhile B is at space bace. tries to call A like they’ve been doing semi-regularly, fails. assumes theyre busy. next day, tries again, fails, decides to call their younger bro, who goes ‘yea they got arrested by the govt’ ‘they WHAT? Put mum on the line!’ and all that ensues. they don’t tell B what A did (mum says ‘i dont think im allowed to tell you’) but B is panicking. because Oh, Fuck. the best case scenario is that they assume A is B and B gets a criminal recod, but that fucks over B, who is currently pretending to be A, so like, what are they supposed to do? How long are they going to have to pretend to be A, and will they want to swap back at all if it means suddenly having a record for crimes they didn’t commit? the more likely outcome is that they figure out the switch, and oh GOD, OH NO.

Before the army base can be properly informed about the ongoing Situation (info was delayed because A demanded a lawyer, as you do) B gets sent on another mission with the squad, which helps put their actions into an emotional context. Explains why, when seeing D charge up a terrifying direct hit to a stationary C (whose ship had already been hit and was essentially ‘floating’ while she tried to manually fix one of the broken systems), B goes ‘fuck that’ and does a manual lightspeed jump to intercept the shot, which breaks through their shields and sends them fucking careening off into the void of space because getting hit at near light speed fucks you up real good. like, okay, fucking incredible maneouver, would have worked significantly better if the summonable shields for standard class weren’t Not Super Great, and also if D hadn’t fucking charged shot the bastard. fucking nyoom off into the void, 90% of the reason B fucking blacks out during that is that they got hit on an angle and fucking corkscrewed into the void like babe no amount of gravity stabilisers on the inside are gonna prevent you from wanting to vom, and thats assuming the gravity stabilisers weren’t fucked with IN THE HIT.

i guess the broad strokes is that A gets arrested, and before B can be like, questioned about it re:identity, they get fucked up real good on the last mission because part of them goes ‘if im gonna go to prison after this i might as well go to prison having saved my friends life’ and boom bitch, an unconscious pilot in a corkscrewing spaceship rocketing away from the encounter because theres noone at the wheel to hit the brakes. wild. theyre fine, as soon as L sees whats happened and processes what the FUCK just happened they basically immediately go ‘OH SHIT’ and completely disengage from the fight with D to chase after B’s runaway ship. shenanigans, etc etc, eventually everyones safe and back at base and B’s out fucking cold in the med bay and then like the resolution of that whole thing happens i guess? the fact A is not in orbit sorta messes with the original idea which is that both A and B would fly together, but A’s kinda under arrest for hacking like govt secrets of something trying to uncover the truth behind the DECAF ambush (i love that thats the acronym for the squad it kills me so bad) which means that if the story is entirely set in space, A never actually physically makes an appearance, which is hilarious. does complicate matters because its like, okay, so we’ve gotten a confession from B that they are, in fact, not A, and that they have committed that Worst of Crimes, impersonation with permission. at that point the folks have a few options. Jail B for ~crimes~, or let B continue to fly. Their squad would probably argue in their defence, with C’s testimony on the matter being particularly important from a procedural and emotional standpoint, since C has flown with both A and B. And that previously, C had something of a falling out with B where she almost accused them of being a different person. its more complex than that, but its like. yknow. turn around. willing to recognise the good in it, provided she eventually gets answers from the actual A, which B promises to set up once A isn’t, yknow, in lock up. And they’d be looking at B’s record, noting that they are a qualified pilot and attended flight school before transferring out to becoming a mechanic, that their criminal record is clean bar this shenanigannery and the confusion re: A’s hacking, and that their actual flight record during their time pretending to be A is. pretty fucking solid. Like. B has done nothing wrong aside from impersonate someone, and beyond that has just. done their job. they’ve followed orders, they’ve saved people, they’ve taken down enemy combatants, etc etc. and they go ‘you know what? we dont have the luxury of time to slot a new person into that squad to replace you, and so on, so forth, do fuck it! you can stay! but the moment things ebb, you will be on the first ship back to the planet to be dealt with’ and B’s like That’s Honestly Better than I thought that would go, so that works.

the only bit about all this thats iffy is trying to make sure A is still... relevant? that their presence, their actual presence, it felt somehow, so that all the shenanigans don’t come from nowhere. and also to have the information A obtained from The Hackening be useful somehow. like, its about the DECAF thing, and proves something about the incident, like that the space fleet knew D’s ship was active the entire time and did nothing about it, or some shit. thats the issue, cause i feel like being able to know anything about that incident requires explaining what D’s motives are, since its presumably tied into The Truth, and i dont knooow

who fucking knows

[brydigdraws]

Goblin Week Day 1

Another year, another Goblin Week! Unfortunately, this particular week will be very busy for me so I’m unsure if I can actually do all seven days.

For now, though, please enjoy this short snippet about my goblins Rzekamien’s (originally made for D&D 5e) and Loc’s (originally made for a modified version of WH40K: Rogue Trader) first meeting (you can find out more about them by checking their respective tags on this blog). Please bear in mind that I’m not really a writer, and that this is a first draft and thus contains a few placeholder names and such.

It was an ordinary day as far as Rzekamien was concerned. The sun was shining through the trees, the birds sang their songs, and the wind was but a pleasant breeze. He liked it that way.

He sat in his cottage, writing in detail about the anatomy of the Etruscan shrew, referencing a skull sitting in front of him on the desk. He wasn't a published author or anything of the sort, nor did he wish to be. And even if he so wished, books written in Goblin weren't exactly in demand (not that he couldn't write in other languages - he was, in fact, quite the polyglot, but he held a certain fondness for his mother tongue). He simply wrote for himself, present and future. He also had a knack for illustration, at least given a reference. The sketches were scattered all throughout the book, complimenting texts about various plants, animals and fungi. This was volume twenty. He had opened a window to appreciate the ambient sounds it let in. For now, the forest was calm.

It was decidedly not an ordinary day for Loc. He was travelling through the galaxy at several times the speed of light, desperate to shake off his pursuers. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Scavenging wasn't technically illegal, and how could he possibly have known that the wreckage of the huge ship that hadn't given off a single sign of activity for hundreds of years still, some-fucking-how, had survivors on it? Really aggressive, possessive survivors. With fully functional mini ships to chase his poor ass for way longer than was reasonable. He really wasn't the one in the wrong here.

Loc was quite a skilled pilot, but his ship could only go so fast, despite its small size. As he performed some impressive void acrobatics to stall for time, he also checked the radar for any planet that may be safe to land on.

Gas, gas, too cold, too hot...

After a while he came upon one with not only a survivable temperature, but also solid ground and breathable air.

Jackpot!

He headed straight for it, but just as he was about to enter the atmosphere, one of his pursuers finally managed to hit him with a projectile. As the error messages filled up the monitor, he did his best to regain control of the brakes to cushion the inevitable crash.

As though someone had snapped their fingers, the calm of the forest had come to an abrupt stop. Rzekk jumped at the sudden sound of branches breaking and trees falling not far from his home, quickly followed by a deafening boom. It was no longer an ordinary day.

After calming himself down a bit, Rzekk looked out the window to try to see what possibly could have caused so much noise and destruction. All he was met with was a tower of smoke beyond the trees - at least he didn't smell fire. He contemplated whether he should go and take a proper look; someone might have been seriously hurt, and he was a healer after all (not by choice, mind you, just came with the whole druid schtick). Then he remembered all the times curiosity had nearly killed him, and decided it was none of his business. It was probably just a powerful spell an incompetent spell caster had tried their hands at, or something of the sort. That was their own fault, and they'd have to deal with the consequences themselves - that's part of becoming competent. He went back to studying the skull.

Loc groaned. It was a rough landing, to say the least. But he did seem to still have all his limbs intact, thanks to his airbag suit. It looked absolutely ridiculous when inflated, but had played a big part in the drastic reduction of the amount of spaceship accident-related deaths in the last 20 years.

He pressed a small button to deflate the suit, and examined himself in the rear view mirror. Just some bruising, it seemed. ... Maybe internal bleeding? Oh, and definitely a headache. His bones seemed whole, at least.

He stepped outside on wobbly legs, and groaned anew when he saw that his ship now looked more like a pile of scrap than something he had spent 20.000 zilcons on. He put a caring hand against the hull.

"Don't worry, baby, Daddy's gonna fix you right up! Just stay put." And so he was on his wobbly way, hoping to find an engineering guild. Maybe a pharmacy, for some painkillers. When he was some hundred meters away, the engine exploded.

"Goddamnit."

Rzekamien was once again interrupted, this time by a loud knock on the door. Visitors were very rare this deep in the woods, so it did surprise him. But more than that, it annoyed him. He had been in the zone, and that knock knocked him right out of it. He was just about to ignore his visitor and get back to work, when they knocked again. And again. And again and again and his ears hurt. He sighed and went to open the door.

Before him stood a... goblin? He thought so, at least. They were about a head taller than himself, with blue-tinted, green skin, and big ears. However, he had never seen a goblin with such a nose before - it reminded him more of a bat's. And those clothes, they were made of materials he had never seen. The goblin's hair was as pink as lyre flowers - no dye he knew of was capable of such a rich, bright colour. ... Where the fuck did this person come from?

"Hey! I'm Loc, from star system LX-933-B. Nice to meet you!" The stranger stretched out a hand in greeting. Rzekk looked at the hand, then back to their face, then back to the hand. He really didn't want to touch it, but still did so reluctantly, for a lack of better alternatives. He retracted his hand immediately upon feeling the stickiness of the stranger's palm, and let out a small croak of disgust.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to retract the hairs. ... So, what's your name?" Rzekk didn't answer, he just looked at his unwelcome visitor suspiciously. He couldn't see behind their extremely dark-tinted goggles, which actually helped him sell the illusion that he was looking them in the eyes.

"Not much of a talker, eh? That's okay. Anyway, I just, uh, happened to crash here, so I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest engineering guild? Oh, and do you have any pain killers? ... It wasn't a very pleasant landing, y'see." He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm asking for a lot here." (he really wasn't) "I could give you something for the trouble? Not sure what, though, I didn't have much on me to begin with, and I'm not sure how much is whole at this point." With every word, Rzekk grew more and more confused. He knew five languages, and had heard pretty much all others on the planet enough times that he could easily recognise them. But whatever this person was spewing? He didn't have a clue. Loc noticed the confusion in his eyes and came to a halt.

"Oh, don't tell me... Your planet's that backwards? You don't have translators? You know, those chips installed in your ears? You don't have those? Oh boy, have you even made contact with the rest of the outside universe yet? What about your technology? Do you even know what velcro is? What-" Loc got interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, which made Rzekamien jump backwards in surprise. It was so violent one could think his heart would jump out of his throat at any moment. When the coughing finally stopped, Loc noticed the blood on his hands, and felt it trickle down his chin. He wiped it off unceremoniously. Rzekamien just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ohh, shit. I'm worse off than I thought, huh? Hey, is it alright if I crash here? I'm not... I'm not feeling very well." And that's all he managed to say before he went limp and collapsed before Rzekamien's feet. After trying his best to process what had just played out in front of him, Rzekamien begrudgingly dragged his unconscious body inside (he was a healer, after all). Ordinary days as he knew them would never come again.

[shootwinterfest]

Happy Hunting

Shoot Secret Santa Gift by @lizburnz!

The navigation system chimes, “You have reached your destination,” and Shaw mashes on the brakes, simultaneously as she cuts the wheel.

The car screeches to a halt, slanted in a parallel spot, ridden halfway up the curb in front of some apartment buildings and a few startled pedestrians. She slams the gear into park and bolts before the tire smoke even has a chance to settle. Anything else vehicular related is irrelevant now, as she leaves the door hanging wide open and the engine still running. 

Root needs her- needs her help. With what? Specifically, Shaw doesn't know, but the short text with more exclamation points than words seemed pretty damn urgent. And since Root's phone has been going straight to voice mail ever since, she believes the threat to be serious, something that requires a second gun and Shaw's most preferred method of intervention. Shooting. 

But the neighborhood is quiet. Well, not that it shouldn't be, this early on a Saturday morning, but when Root's involved in anything there's usually some degree of chaos. Oddly, nothing seems to be out of place. No smoke means no fire, no screaming means no gunshots have recently gone off. The only person running like their life depended on it, is Shaw, who's starting to wonder if she's even at the right place. 

But it is the right place. 314 Avenue C. And Shaw knows this because it says so. Right there on the door. Behind Root. 

The woman who cried wolf lounges casually at the foot of the stoop, without a scratch on her head or a single care in the world. And though Shaw is somewhat relieved by the sight of neither dead nor dying Root, it doesn't make her any less perturbed, being pulled out of bed at the brink of dawn because someone can't quite grasp what constitutes an emergency. 

Shaw drags her feet the rest of the way, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets so Root can't see how tightly they're balled into fists. She doesn't want to do anything she might regret, like punch a certain grin off a certain someone's face. Not until she has a valid reason at least. 

“Good morning,” Root sing songs in her usual pleasant way. 

“What is it this time?” Shaw asks, bypassing formalities completely. The faster she gets to the point, the faster she can turn down whatever it is and go home. 

“Let's see...” Root glances to the imaginary watch on her wrist. “Fifty-eight city blocks in less than twelve minutes. Wow, Shaw! I think you broke your old record.”

Shaw's eyes flutter into the back of her head. “Why am I here, Root?”

“Isn't that the age old question?” Root ambles to her feet with a large cup of coffee in hand. “Whole milk. No sugar. Just the way you like it,” she says, extending it towards a wary Shaw. 

Whether it's a hot cup-o-bribery or a peace offering, Shaw isn't sure, but she takes it anyway. “You know, this doesn't even begin to make up for-”

“Do you like hunting?” Root asks peculiarly and out of nowhere. 

Shaw just blinks. There isn't enough caffeine in this coffee, or in the entire city of New York, to help prepare her for the roller coaster that is Root's cryptics. 

The first thing that comes to mind is fugitive tracking of course, a literal man hunt. Now that, Shaw could get on on board with. But knowing Root, it's probably nothing so obvious and easy. It's two very different things, what Shaw thinks and what Root actually means. 

“It depends,” Shaw says, reluctant to commit without details first. She's learned the hard way too many times before. “What the target is... if I can shoot them... but mostly, my mood.”

“And...” Root leans in on the tips of her toes, “What kind of mood do you currently find yourself in this lovely day?”

“The pistol whipping kind of mood if you don't cut the crap and tell me what you want.”

Root pouts half-heartedly, slipping a piece of paper from her coat pocket, to which Shaw snatches and unfolds. Written on it, in barely legible hacker scrawl, is a list of addresses that still do everything but answer Shaw's question. 

“They're apartments,” Root clarifies. “I need your help finding one.”

A map could do a better job. Hell, Root's practically got a GPS system and then some squawking in her ear. But maybe it's more than that, Shaw thinks. Maybe there's a bomb planted in one, or a missing person tied to a radiator. Looking closer at the list, she finds a four digit number beside each address. Next to that, some kind of code... 2/1 1700SF W/D... 

But it isn't until Shaw reads the part about “no pets” that she shoves the paper back at Root. 

“This is why you 911'd me? To help you house hunt!” Shaw says, gaping in amazement. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Root throws her an obvious look. 

“I thought you were...” Hurt. Dying. Both. The potential of either could light a fire of apocalyptic proportions under Shaw's ass, and Root seems to relish the fact. “Do you know how many traffic laws I just broke?”

Root shrugs. “All of them, I imagine.”

Shaw deadpans her for a moment, mystified as she internally debates whether or not she should spoil her knuckles today with an all you can beat buffet of Root's face. Shaw nearly mowed down a group of tourists crossing the street, sideswiped about a dozen parked cars, ran every single red light while doing quadruple the speed limit. For christsake, she car jacked someone at gunpoint. And for what? For the exciting, once in a lifetime mission of finding analogue-interfull-of-shit a place to live?

“Happy hunting,” Shaw eventually says and turns heel in the opposite direction. And of course it isn't the last word. Root follows on her heals and whines in her wake, with things like please and wait and a few pet names she isn't allowed to call Shaw in public. 

“You're bored, I get it,” Shaw tells her in stride. “The Machine gave you the day off, so instead of annoying relevant numbers, you've decided to annoy me instead. I get it.”

“No, that isn't-” Root groans in frustration. “Will you please just hear me out?” and she hooks an arm around Shaw's to stop her. “I called you because, one, I value your opinion. And two, I thought you'd like to be a part of a mutually beneficial decision.”

“How in the world does this benefit me?”

“Think of it like this. The sooner I get a key to my own place, the sooner you can have yours back,” Root says and places an encouraging hand on Shaw's shoulder, which is batted off not a second later when the information is really processed.

“You have a key to my apartment?”

“I made copies.”

“Wait. Copies, plural?” As in more than one? “Seriously, Root. What the fuck.”

“Look, we can stand here, arguing semantics for the next 45 seconds until your stolen vehicle is swarmed by cops, plural, or...” Root jingles a set of car keys like a carrot on a stick. “I'll even let you drive,” she adds, and Shaw doesn't have much time to mull it over, not with all the sirens wailing in the distance. 

“Fine,” Shaw finally agrees, though it was a tough decision to make. The back seat of a squad car or Root's- where is her car? 

She presses the clicker and follows the faint little beep across the street, to where the vintage muscle car sits. Not just any muscle car though, a cherry red, 1967 Mustang twin turbo V8 in pristine condition. And Shaw knows this, because it looks just like the car Harold has, locked in his garage. The one he brags about all the time, having spent years restoring it to near mint. The one he never drives or lets anyone else drive, for the matter. 

“How'd you get Finch to lend you his car?” Shaw asks, quickly realizing how dumb her question sounds aloud. Especially to Root, who just throws her head back and laughs. 

…

The first stop of the list is on the upper east side, to a twenty something story apartment building fitted with a starch press suited doorman and a security guard station, which Shaw deems is more for appearances sake. Armed with walkies, flashlights, and pens for the sign in sheet, they let Root and Shaw breeze right by with their fake ID's and concealed weapons.

It's no surprise when Root hits the “P” for penthouse button in the elevator. She's not exactly the humble type, or one to underplay any sort of small endeavor.

A well dressed blonde woman greets them right off the elevator, shining a permanent smile of all veneer that never lets up even while she speaks. Root gingerly accepts the pamphlet offered, glossing over it as she absently wanders about the main living area, which is two times bigger than Shaw's entire apartment. And white. All white. The carpets, the walls, even the staging furniture. Lord forbid anyone so much as whisper the words red wine or tomato sauce, or in Root's predictable case, blood. 

“Seems nice,” Root says while Shaw shuffles alongside like a bored child. 

“Then buy it.” The sooner Root signs the deal, the sooner she can get back to her regularly scheduled program of having absolutely nothing to do on her day off. 

“The master bath apparently has a built in sauna...” Root gives her a little nudge, “Guess how many settings the smart shower has?”

“Enough to replace me.”

“Not likely,” but then Root lowers the pamphlet in introspect. “Unless I could program it to be mean to me...”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I'm gonna have a look around.”

“And I...” Shaw scans the room, searching for the oasis in this desert of white hell, “...will see you later,” and she branches off towards the refreshment table.

It's probably the best thing about an open house. Well, if you're Shaw and you have no intent on buying anything. The free food. And not just tired old finger sandwiches either. The last time Shaw's seen a spread like this, she was undercover at a political fundraiser for what's his name running for office of who cares. 

Shaw sips a bellini from a flute as she grazes the table, helping herself to a little of this and that. At some point she does make threatening eye contact with the foolish person who tried reaching for the last salmon wrap, but all is pleasant and well for the most part. She get's to explore her pallet, Root gets to explore the apartment. A win-win so far in her book. 

“God! You wont believe the offer that tacky-khaki couple just proposed.”

Inconspicuously, Shaw glances a little ways to her right. The fake toothed woman who greeted them earlier stands with another, conversing in whispers and hushed voices. Well they'd like to believe no one else can hear them.

“An open house... what was Harriet thinking? Letting anyone waltz in off the street?”

“We'll have to fumigate when this is over.”

“Would you look at all the riff-raff?”

Shaw follows the acrylic red finger nail as it not so discretely flicks across the room. Of all the people scattered about the living area, she decides to pick out Root. 

“What do you think her net worth is?”

“If that ugly leather jacket's anything to go by. I saw holes in it.”

“And the hair...

“I like her boots though...”

“So did I- five seasons ago!”

Their annoying laughter eventually fades into the violin music, but Shaw's temper continues on it's high note. In her head, she's already plotted half the steps towards their accidental deaths, because no one – no one – is allowed to talk crap about Root. Except for Shaw, that is. 

And under any other circumstance, she'd just go over there and confront the two women with a lesson in manners. Incidentally, fists are a great learning tool for most people. 

Oh, but where would that get her? Wanted by the police, probably, if that little car jacking stunt didn't already land a warrant for her arrest. But it would be fun, well fun for Shaw, to give those rent-a-cops downstairs a run for their money. 

No, she eventually decides. There are more subtle ways to exact revenge. 

She sidles over to the group of young hipsters first, who have gathered by the fire place pretending to admire the brickwork. 

“Did one heck of a clean up on this place, huh?” she says, cutting into their conversation at just the right moment. 

They turn to her with mixed expressions. “What do you mean?” one of them asks. 

Shaw leans in. “Oh, you don't know?” she says in a hushed voice, so secretive and curious, it demands the group's undivided attention. All but one.

The guy with thick rimmed glasses just scoffs at her. “What? Did some dude die here or something?”

“More like dudes. Plural,” Shaw replies and glasses guy stops laughing. “A few months back, this tech company was having their big launch party here. Well, during the party, one of the partners totally loses it and I mean loses it. I heard, it was because the other partners were trying to cut him out... guess he thought he'd beat them to it.” and she unfolds the rest of the scene, in graphic detail with complementary stabbing gestures. To the point, a few of them turn a sickly shade of pale. 

But glasses guy, the apparent leader of the pack, needs more convincing. 

“Come on! How do you not remember this?” Shaw says, and name drops a famous New York magazine that all the people like them claim to read but never do. 

And suddenly, him and the rest of the group are singing a different tune, nodding their heads and collectively muttering things like: Oh yes, I remember that article and Such a tragedy and It's too bad, I heard they were really up and coming... 

“Yeah.” Shaw gazes solemnly at the fireplace. “That's where they found the head... threw it like it was a bowling ball.”

Like before, they stare at the fireplace. Albeit, in utter silence and for new and morbid reasons now, but Shaw takes it as her cue to move on. 

And move on she does, to the pleasant older couple standing by themselves in the kitchen, which is also bigger than Shaw's apartment as well. They look a bit out of place. Suburban, perhaps midwestern. Shaw isn't sure just yet, but they definitely aren't like the rest of the people who live here. 

“Excuse me,” Shaw says, all smile and cheer. “I couldn't help but notice, you two aren't from around here, are you?”

“Oh, heavens no!” The woman replies. Her accent is unmistakably southern and thick as molasses. “We're visiting our daughter. She just graduated from NYU!”

“Edna, you don't gotta tell everyone we meet,” the husband grumbles. “Hell, half of New York City knows by now.”

“No, it's fine,” Shaw politely reassures them. “You two must be very proud. Are you looking to move here as well, or?”

The woman side eyes the man. “Well, I would like to... It'd be nice to live closer to our little girl. Not  to mention the broadway... But Richard here's an old stick in the mud.” she leans in to whisper only to Shaw, “He doesn't take to change very well.” The man grumbles again. 

“I totally understand. When I first moved here, it took me a while to get acclimated. I mean, the first time I was mugged-”

“You were mugged?” The woman clasps her chest. “Oh, you poor thing!”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “You get used to it. After a dozen times or so it's just like muscle memory. Wallet, phone, jewelry, please don't kill me.” Shaw acts it out like a routine. The grand finale, pulling the bottom of her shirt. “I was stabbed a block away from here, wanna see the scar?”

Their southern manners come to a full stop and they leave without so much as a goodbye or a bless your heart. Filled with a sense of crudely gained accomplishment, Shaw blows the smoke from the imaginary barrel of her imaginary gun and sets her sights on other targets. 

One by one, they're taken out. She tells the uptight newly weds the apartment had been used as a movie set for prestigious films such as Gang-Bangs of New York, and One Fuck Over the Cuckhold's Nest, and Forrest Hump. 

The leader of the co-op board has a portrait of Hitler hanging in his foyer. The neighbor downstairs is prone to clanging pots and pans at odd hours of the night because the voices tell her to. The walls are coated with so much lead paint, the apartment could double as a fallout shelter from radiation. And the whole building is haunted by failed venture capitalists, Shaw said to another person, and when his back was turned, she flickered the light switches. 

And alright, that last one was mediocre at best, she admits. But in her defense, the one too many bellinis were starting to kick in a that point and she was running out of material. Thankfully, Root had come full circle by then, finished with her browsing. 

“What do you think?”

“I heard the foundation's crumbling-” Shaw covers her mouth, pushing back the bubbly. “Whole place is gonna level in like a year.”

Root flashes her a look of disbelief, “That's absurd,” and returns to the brochure in hand. “I think it's pretty nice,” she says, and goes on and on about all the nice features and the nice amenities and the nice view.

“You!” 

They look up and see the teethy realtor clomping her heels in their direction. “Aw, shit,” Shaw whispers when the woman turns her pointed red nail to her this time.

“Just where the hell do you get off! I lost potential buyers because of you!”

Shaw blinks, unfazed by this woman practically yelling in her face. However, Root's rather confused, bordering the edge of worried. 

“What is she talking about?” Root asks, one of her hands sliding to the taser tucked in the back of her pants. Hovering, like she's unsure whether or not it's going to be necessary in the next ten seconds.  

“I don't know,” Shaw replies with an innocent shrug at first, until she completely abandons the concept of an inside voice. “Must be all the asbestos in the air!” she shouts and the rest of the room, the few people she hadn't managed to scare off, they all clam up and turn bug eyed in their direction. 

For a moment, the realtor panics and her fake smile returns to settle the crowd. “You need to leave!” she says through gritted teeth. “Both of you need to leave, immediately!”

“Way ahead of ya, sister.” Shaw says and calls out over her shoulder, “Wouldn't want to get a stupid thing like lung cancer or anything!” At this point, Root looks like she's going to taser Shaw instead. 

“Let's go, Sameen,” she says, perturbed and not in a mild way, judging from grip she has on Shaw's elbow. 

And still... “Really, you think they'd shell out a few extra bucks to remove hazardous materials from the walls!” Shaw manages one last time before she's shoved into the elevator.

Root jabs the lobby button and the doors close. She turns to Shaw with a myriad of emotions, some embarrassment, a little confusion, but mostly anger in her eyes. Shaw can feel them boring into the side of her face.

“What?” Shaw eventually shrugs. “Something you wanna say, Root?”

Root crosses her arms, tightly over her chest. “Something you wanna say, Shaw?”

Shaw rolls her eyes to the top of the door, watching the floor numbers fall on the screen for moment before clearing her throat. “Your hair looks nice today.”

…

Miles later in Midtown...

Together, they loiter the sidewalk in front of the next apartment Root might potentially rent, if the realtor ever decides to make an appearance. They've been waiting over a half an hour now. 

“What's taking so long?” Shaw asks, again. 

“Traffic, probably.” Root shrugs. She doesn't seem to mind the waiting as much as Shaw does. Then again, she doesn't have anywhere else to be. And neither does Shaw, but that's besides the point. Tardiness is just unprofessional. 

“Call them.”

“I've already called five times,” Root tells her. “No one's picking up.”

“When?” Shaw asks. She hadn't seen Root touch her phone at all. 

Root just taps the shell of the cochlear implant hiding beneath her hair. Oh yes, how could have Shaw forgotten, the ethereal blue tooth connection to robot overlord. 

“I still don't understand why the Machine couldn't help you with this,” Shaw says to her. “Seems it'd be a heck of a lot easier. Beep boop beep... an apartment appears.”

Root smirks at her sideways, “You know that's not how it works.” 

“Why not? I mean, she can make up elaborate identities for you, reposition satellites in orbit for you-”

“She can also tell me how many times you've watched Eat, Pray, Love... this month.”

Shaw glares to the side of Root's face trying, and failing to keep the amusement all to herself. But she's distracted for a moment, there's a passerby who's taking too long to pass by Harold's car. “Keep moving! So her abilities fall just short of finding her favorite asset a place to live?”

“She wants me to be more...” Root chews the inside of her cheek, “Independent, was the word she used.”

For once, Shaw's in agreement with Root's girlfriend. 

“I'm pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what she meant,” Shaw teases. That is unless, the definition of independence changed over night and no one bothered to say anything. 

“She also thinks we don't spend enough quality time together,” Root quickly adds, casually with a flip of her hair. 

“Yeah, right,” Shaw scoffs at that. She'd like to know what the Machine would have to say about being  slandered and used as a pawn for Root's own projections. “We spend lots of time together. Too much if you ask me.”

“Numbers don't count.”

“You come over all the time,” Shaw argues. Root just lets herself right in, with all those keys she's made.

“Sex doesn't count either.”

“Then what- Hey buddy! You wanna lose that hand!” Shaw shouts at a particularly touchy admirer of Harold's car. “What does count?” she finally asks. Really, she wants to know, how she can possibly spread her time thinner than it already is. “Does this count?”

Root thinks about it for a moment. “I'm not sure yet. But I'll let you know.”

“Right.” Shaw shakes her head; Root can be impossible at times. The 'issue' can go on the back burner for now, Shaw decides. They've got to move forward with the day, which is no longer dependent on the no-show realtor. 

The front door of the building is locked, go figure, but that doesn't repel Shaw. There's an intercom system right beside it with dozens of names, each having their own call button. Shaw mashes all of them and waits. 

In no time does the speaker crackle with static and slews of voices, speaking all at once in a melody of Hello? Who is it? and What the fuck do you want?

“Time Warner Cable,” Shaw says into the box and almost immediately, a buzzer goes off and unlocks the door. Shaw opens it and turns to Root still waiting on the sidewalk. “You coming or what?”

Root leads her upstairs and down the short hallway. “This is the one,” she says, pointing to the lock for Shaw to pick, which she does so effortlessly.

The inside is just as bland as the outside. The walls are coated in a neutral beige color that matches the carpet in all the rooms. A single bedroom, an eat in kitchen, a reasonably sized living area with a few windows and an okay view of the coffee shop all these midtowners mill about. And that's pretty much it. Though, Shaw thinks that was Martha Stewart crossing the intersection. 

“I don't hate it,” Root sums up, having toured the entire place in less than a minute. 

“But you don't like it either.”

“Eh.” Root shrugs. “It's just hard to picture myself living here, without my things.”

An idea pops into Shaw's head. “Okay, how about...” she thinks aloud and surveys the area. “Your desk can be here, in the living room, since you don't watch TV anyways...” She moves to the kitchen next. “You can put a little cafe table here... coffee pot here... and hey look, extra cabinet space for things that aren't cooking related.”

“I know how to cook, Shaw.”

“Name one time you cooked anything,” Shaw asks, but immediately stops Root the second her mouth opens. “Let me rephrase. Cooked anything that wasn't eventually used as tear gas.”

“Okay, you've got me there,” Root concedes. “Please continue.”

Shaw leads her to the bedroom. “The bed can go here. Nightstand with the lava lamp right next to it. Dresser here. Bean bag- if you still want it, there. The closet's kinda small... you'll have to get rid of a few jackets, but-”

“Wait,” Root interrupts. “Go back to the part about the bed.”

Shaw back tracks a few steps. “The bed goes here and-”

“Right here?” Root asks, edging closer and closer. 

And Shaw's so distracted with her fake floor plan, she thinks nothing of it. She doesn't realize Root's been methodically backing her into the wall until her back actually hits the wall. 

“And, what do you imagine we'd be doing on this bed, Sameen?” Her voice drops an octave in Shaw's ear, tingling like those fingertips skirting the inside hem of her jeans. 

“I can think of a few things...” Shaw whispers, tracing the heat radiating from Root's lips inches away from her own. “On this bed, and then, that bureau over there.”

Root flashes a grin and presses it to Shaw's, briefly though. The kiss was only a ruse to take Shaw's lip between her teeth and tease some more before letting go. “I want you to know...” Root sighs as her hands circle around Shaw's wrists, “I'm really sorry about this.”

What that means? Shaw doesn't know. She barely had time to process anything Root said, because as soon as Root said it, she was spun around and pinned to wall with her arms locked behind her back. 

“Whatthafuck!”

“Just go with it sweetie,” Root tells her, and not a second later do they hear footsteps coming down the hall and a man's voice calling out shakily. “Hello? Is someone there?”

He double takes when he sees them, his face conveying a look of surprise and slight fear for his life. “What's going on here? Who are you?”

“Special Agent Augusta King,” Root announces. As swiftly as she got the jump on Shaw, her free hands whips out a black leather bound badge that says FBI. “We received an anonymous tip about a wanted criminal hiding out in the building.”

“Here? In this building?” the man stutters in shock.

“Are you the tipper, sir?” Root asks, meanwhile, zip tying Shaw's wrists together for the bonus effect. So tight, Shaw thinks she's actually in trouble with the federal government. 

“No, I live next door, I was just going-”

“So you heard suspicious activity from the vacant apartment right next to you and didn't think to report it?” Root says, catching him off guard. “Sir, are you aware that harboring a fugitive of the law is a felony offense?”

Shaw grumbles, “Like impersonating a-” 

Root silences her with a good shove.

“Woah, wait a minute,” the man backs away, hands up in defense. “I had no idea she was- I wouldn't harbor anything!”

“You'll be hearing from my offices.” Root begins escorting Shaw out into the hallway, pausing to glare at the man as she passes. “Don't leave town.”

By the time they exit the front door, Shaw is more than done with the whole charade. Immediately, she shirks out of Roots grip, fuming slightly as she strains for the folding knife in her back pocket. “I can't believe you- no wait, I can!” The zip tie snaps free after a bit of sawing.

“I'm not the one who left the door wide open.”

The few choice words bubbling in the back of Shaw's throat, simmer down. Root's right. She did leave the door open. Like some kind of fucking amateur. She rubs her sore wrists, bitter. “What are you still doing with that thing anyway?”

“I don't know.” Root jogs the badge in her hands. “It does come in handy though.”

Shaw shakes her head. From the corner of her eyes, she notices a suspicious group of hoodlums beginning to circle Harold's car like vultures on a carcass. 

“Gimme that!” Shaw snatches the goddamn badge out of Root's hands and flips it out with an, “FBI! Freeze!” The little bastards bolt in all directions, and Shaw hums to herself. “How come I never got one of these?” 

…

Later and lower on the east side...

Jerri, a fast talking woman from Queens who looks like Fusco's sister, hustles them up the stairs of a run down walk up. The bellinis Shaw guzzled earlier threaten to make a second appearance as they round the landing of floor number six. More so when she sidesteps a ragged baby doll lying in a questionable pool of something awful slicked on the floor. 

“Not much further,” the woman tells them. “Just a few more floors!”

“She said that- three floors ago!” Shaw huffs in tow.

“Try to keep up, Shaw,” Root says, jogging the steps with ease, at a steady rhythm that's utterly baffling. Considering Shaw's never seen her so physically active at something that didn't involve

“Coming...” Shaw grumbles and picks up the pace. She reaches the top floor well behind them, out of breath. “I gotta start working out again.”

Jerri pulls out a ring of keys bigger than a steering wheel and starts sifting through them. “It's gotta be one of these,” she says and tries a few but to no avail. “Doh!” she smacks her forehead. “Silly me, we went too high! It's two floors down!”

Shaw deadpans. “Are you fu-” Root jabs her with an elbow, “Funny! Aren't you just funny!” 

“Down we go!” Jerri cheers, waving at them to follow her once again. Shaw wouldn't follow this woman if she were the most relevant number of her career. But Root insists, so she has no choice but trudge back down the stairs. 

The door, the right one this time, it looks like it was breached with a battering ram and glued back together. It sticks as Jerri tries to push it open. Shaw wishes she hadn't been able to unjar it from the frame, when they finally step foot inside.

Cramped is an understatement. Claustrophobia is an increasing possibility for Shaw as they stand shoulder to shoulder in what the realtor calls a studio apartment. More like a closet. 

“Why don't I give you the grand tour!” Jerri says. 

Shaw turns her head left, then right, then back again. “I think I've just had it.”

“Oh, she's hysterical! Does she do stand up?”

“Only when she can't sit down.” Shaw wriggles free of the pair for more space, but doesn't get much. The square footage of this place barely pushes the three digit realm. 

The detail Jerri goes into as she tries to upsell this apartment gives Shaw the idea, she's either the most optimistic woman in the world or the biggest hustler in New York real estate. And if it's the latter, Root's the most patient mark, letting this con artist finish her entire spiel of blatant lies. 

“Look Root, I'm in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. At the same time.”

“I think what my friend is trying to say-”

“Her friend...” Shaw interrupts, until she realizes that Root didn't actually put the word girl in front of friend first. For once. “Never mind, carry on.”

“There just isn't a lot of space,” Root puts delicately. 

“Space? There's plenty of space!” Jerri fires back, jazzed and sorts. “What this place lacks in size, it makes for in compartmentalization!” and she goes on to show them, the hidden cabinets in the in the walls, the drawers underneath the diagonal slant in the staircase frame. “And!” she claps her hands together before grabbing the the lonely painting from the wide wall. Underneath is a latch like rope, which she pulls. “Tada!”

A bed flops out of the wall and Shaw stares at it, unblinkingly. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“May we have a moment please?” Root says, and Jerri the realtor goes into the kitchen, two feet away. 

Shaw whispers to Root. “This whole thing is one bad pullout joke. You can't actually be serious.”

“So what?” Root replies. “It's not like I'll be around to mind it so much.”

“Well, I mind it!” 

Root smiles as she bats her lashes. “Planning sleepovers already?”

“Not if I have to unhinge the bed every time I wanna-”

“Want to what, exactly?” Root teases, for a moment, until Shaw's dead serious face hits home. “Okay, okay.” She clears her throat for Jerri to end her fake phone call. “Do you have anything else available?”

“Preferably not coffin-sized,” Shaw adds. 

It's like a light bulb flickers over Jerri's head. She frantically searches through the mess of sordid papers in her haphazardly thrown together briefcase until she finds the one. The holy grail of documents, she holds it up. “Yes!” she exclaims at first, then presses it to her chest, distraught. “No, I don't! Technically, the application's still pending and I can't show you.”

“Come on, Jerri,” Root says, putting on half her charm. “We just wanna look. Where's the harm in that?”

She gives it some thought. Not much. “Oh, what the heck? You've convinced me. It's only three floors down, come on, I'll show you.”

“Let's hope she's got the right building at least,” Shaw says and Jerri bursts in laughter. 

“Honey, if your job doesn't involve a stage and microphone, you gotta change careers because you are-”

“Hysterical?” 

…

The other apartment is nothing like the previous. It's as if they've slipped into an alternate universe on the stairwell, because there's no possible way this is the same building. Root's in awe the moment she walks in, her eyes lighting up in a way Shaw's never seen before, well, when it comes to this sort of thing. 

Crown molding lines the walls, coated in a scheme of rich blues soft whites. The long paneled windows that stretch from the living room all the way to the kitchen fill the spacious interior with honest light. And the view, Shaw's never considered Midtown to be a scenic place. Then again, she wasn't looking through this window. 

“You've been holding out on us, Jerri,” Shaw tells her. For the first time today, she approves.  

“About that other application,” Root says, “What if you accidentally misplaced it?”

“Say no more, sweetheart.” Jerri bats a hand. “My family's from Sicily. I know all about that sort of thing. We'll go to my office, lose some paperwork, sign some paperwork, have ya in here in no time,” she says, and starts ushering them towards the door. Quickly, adamantly. Suspiciously. 

“Wait,” Shaw says. There's something missing, something she's not telling them. “What's the catch?”

“Catch? What catch? You two look like a nice couple, I wanna cut you a break, that's the catch.”

“We're not-” Shaw rubs the bridge of her nose. “Look, no offense, but this is all too good to be true.” There's got to be something wrong with it, Shaw can feel it in her bones. Shit plumbing, rats in the walls, a weird smell that only comes around during certain times of the day. Something. 

“Listen, I got pristine records going back thirty years on this place. You can take a look for yourselves, but we gotta go down to my office fir-”

“Shh!” Shaw holds a finger up, silencing the room. “Did you hear that?” Her ears keen to the faint, muffled noises. “It's coming from the living room.”

“Yeah, you know what,” Jerri hastily explains in Shaw's wake. “I know what that is. The neighbors are redoing their kitchen. On a Saturday, can you believe it?”

Shaw ignores her and presses her ear to the wall, listening for the noise that seems to have gone away now.

“See? What'd I tell ya? Now if you don't mind, I-”

There's a loud crash suddenly. Something had smacked against the other side of the wall with such force, it rattled the hanging lights and shook the floor. 

Shaw slowly backs away as more, lesser thumps follow. Steadily, like a beat from a drum. And not seconds later, the moaning starts. Unmistakably from a man and oddly, a very strict sounding woman who seems rather disappointed in him.

“And...” Shaw turns to Root with her I told you so face. “there's the catch.”

“Rent controlled nymphos...” Jerri hisses and then smacks the wall, “Hey! Some of us are trying to work over here! Not that you care! Can't go one minute without screwing each other's brains out! Literally!”

“Are they?” Curiosity in her eyes, Root steps closer to have a listen for herself, and it's completely unnecessary. With walls so thin and neighbors so loud, she could stand in any room and still hear all the graphic details of their sexcapades. So it's really a bit extra of Root to flatten the whole side of her face against the wall like that. “Oh, Jerri, you have been holding out on us.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, “Come on, we're leaving,” and takes Root by the arm.

“No, Shaw wait! It's getting better!” Root protests as she's literally dragged to the door. “Shaw, I heard a paddle!”

….

The end in East Village.

“I don't think I've ever heard the word charming used to describe so many not charming things in my life,” Shaw says. She fiddles with the butter knife at the table while she waits for her order. They decided- well, Shaw insisted they stop for a late lunch, and the Russian owned deli on 7th was the closest eatery that wasn't a letter grade away from being quarantined. “How is a giant water stain on the ceiling charming?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Root replies, her head in the piece of paper lain on the table top. She's been scribbling on it since they sat down. The list from earlier today looks nothing like it did, crumpled up, torn at the edges and for some reason, wet. Nearly all of the address had been crossed out, angrily by the look of it. 

Shaw twirls the utensil in her fingers. “I thought it looked like Margaret Thatcher.”

“I'm not getting sucked into this argument again.” Root draws another x over something and brings the pen to her lips, chewing at the end. “It was Barbara Bush anyway...”

Shaw snatches the paper from Root's unsuspecting hands. 

“Hey I need that,” Root says. Her attempts of retrieving it are all in vain. “Shaw, I still haven't decided which one I- where did you get those glasses?”

“Glove box,” Shaw replies, lifting the shades from her eyes to squint at the paper. “Didn't think I could get a hangover before I fell asleep.”

“Can I have it back, please? It's important.”

Shaw throws the glasses aside. “Root, these are all crap. You know this.”

“But I need to pick one.”

“Seriously, have you never gone apartment shopping before?” Shaw asks. Judging from the look on Root's face, she hasn't. “Root. Just make a new list.”

She sinks into the booth, whining pitifully. “But I hate this so much, Shaw. Can't I just live with you? Please?” 

Root smiles, full charm this time. And Shaw jumps when she feels something crawling up the length of her thigh. Luckily the waiter comes with the food, so Shaw has a valid excuse for evicting Root's foot from her crotch. 

“Independence.” Shaw reminds her before grabbing the sandwich off of the plate. She's about to take a bite, but pauses midway. An odd feeling had struck her, a feeling like she's being watched and not by a secret system.

Leaned against the wall, slumped in her seat, is Root, staring at Shaw's sandwich with a weird lust in her eyes. If she was hungry, then she should have ordered something. So tough, Shaw thinks, bringing the sandwich to mouth again and goddamnit!

Shaw cuts the fucking thing in half and slides the plate across the table. Root smiles to herself and takes a nibble and then just- chomps down. Shaw can't believe what shes seeing right now.

“This is the best sandwich I've ever had,” Root says, at least that's what Shaw thinks she says. Root's mouth is so full, and yet, she keeps trying to fill it. 

“As a person who's had a lot of sandwiches, I-”

“Shut up and eat it, Shaw!”

Without further protest, Shaw takes a bite. Her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Oh my fucking god.” It is the best sandwich she's ever had. Why is Root right all the time?

“So, tomorrow...” Root manages to swallow the rest without choking. “New day, new list, perhaps a new car even? I heard Harry's got a viper tucked away in cold storage.”

Shaw chews on it. As fun as it was gallivanting around this charming city with Root... she'll have to pass. “Sorry, you're on your own for round two. I'm busy.”

“I checked. You're not.”

What is this? Slow season for criminal activity? “I'm taking a personal day.”

“Fine,” Root says, dabbing with the napkin before it's surly tossed aside. “I'll be wandering Hell's Kitchen tomorrow if you change your mind.”

“Okay, Root.” Shaw snorts, almost choking on her food. “Give your taser a good charge before you do.” She'll definitely need it for that side of town- if she were actually going. 

Shaw's not stupid, she recognized the pattern as soon as she saw the list. All the stops they've made so far today were along the 4 train, which lets off near Subway HQ and coincidentally, right by Shaw's apartment.

They step outside the deli and Shaw gives the place a nod as she slips the glasses back on. The sign is in Russian, and unfortunately, none of it involves the ten words she knows. “Goodbye restaurant I don't know the name of.”

“Actually,” Root says, glancing up at the sign. “It think it says sandwich, well, bread meat bread, but you get the picture.” 

“Hmm.” Shaw shrugs. She's halfway to the car, that better not be stolen, when she notices Root isn't behind her. Doubling back, Shaw finds her standing at the deli's window, staring at a sign that says For Rent – Inquire Within. 

…

They inquire within. 

The owner of the deli; a burly, grey bearded and rather abrasive gentleman named Vlad, throws his dirty apron over his shoulder and yells something wild in Russian to the cooks behind the counter. 

“Come! We go!” he then yells to Root and Shaw, and leads them out and around the building, through several locked doors and up a rickety old freight elevator, all while cursing in his native tongue. And Shaw's sure of this because most of those words he's using, are the same ones she's used to start bar fights overseas. 

“You go, I wait,” Vlad says, and shoos them off the elevator. 

It's was an industrious space converted to a loft by the previous owners. The concrete floors were replaced with dark hard wood for a more domestic feel, but the steel pillars remained. Carved out to one side, the obvious kitchen accustomed with marble counter tops, a range, and a classic style refrigerator. And in the far corner, the porcelain bathroom with the large clawfoot tub, partitioned by a wall of glass blocks. 

Root turns circles, marveling the expanse of open floor plan. “I have no words, Shaw.” 

“I'm shocked,” Shaw replies, but it has nothing to do with this rare real estate gem they've stumbled upon by sheer luck. Root's non-stop motormouth has suddenly run out of fuel and hell has actually frozen over. 

But in the weird trend of today's events, Shaw checks and double checks everything. That the light switches turn on and the water runs from the faucets. She test the sturdiness of the steel beams and the thickness of the walls. She stomps around in her steel toed boots for weak spots in the floor. In the end, everything seems to be in working order. The radiator is blasting heat, the toilet is flushing, and yes, the refrigerator is also running. 

The second Shaw mentions roof access, Root's falling over to make a deal. 

Vlad may be limited in English, but he understands the universal language of money and the giant wad of cash Root suddenly pulls out of her pocket. He shoves a set of keys in her hand and goes off on Russian tangent as he counts the money.

“He says...” Root pauses to listen. “No checks, no cards, rent is cash only...”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I did some work for the Russian mob- long story,” Root tells her before she's back to translating. “I'm supposed to put the money in an envelope and slip under his door... on the first of the month, not the second, or... well that doesn't sound very pleasant.”

Shaw's eyes widen some. She tries to ask what the she means by that, but Root shushes her with a raised finger.

“There is one rule... don't bother me. If you do not bother me, I will not bother you and everything will be... cookies and cream?”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry, I'm a bit rusty.” Root tunes back in, nodding profusely at the last part before he shakes her hand and leaves. 

“What did he just say to you?”

Root turns to her. “He said, My name is Vladimir Baronov Petrovich, and I fix nothing.”

…

A week later... 

Shaw picks up a bottle of wine on the way to Root's. A house warming gift of sorts, or a present depending on how you look at it, though Shaw prefers it as a celebration of mission completion and good things yet to come. 

The days of Root living out of satchels and crashing on couches are finally over, and for some reason, Shaw takes comfort in that. It means things are changing, for the better, she believes. Having a safe, permanent place to lay your head, it means something.

Shaw can hear the faint music playing as she lifts the elevator gate. She expects Root sprung for a decent sound system, something to listen to while she cranes her neck over a computer for hours on end. And maybe she found a nice desk and a comfortable chair like Harold's to sit in while she does, Shaw wonders, as she rounds the corner, quietly. 

Sneaking up on Root is a hit or miss, depending on the Machine's mood. But Shaw hopes she gets to catch Root doing something weird for once, even though she has no idea what that might entail. 

Root's barefoot, sitting cross legged on the floor with a soldering iron, humming to herself. And Shaw thinks it's actually kind of cute- maybe, at least until she finds a better word for it. Which is never. The feeling becomes short lived, the nameless word is moot when she realizes why Root's sitting on the floor. 

She has no goddamn furniture. 

“Love what you haven't done with the place,” Shaw calls out, announcing her presence to Root, who flinches and then smiles bashfully to the wires in her lap. As it turns out, the Machine was in Shaw's favor this evening. It's a rare occurrence to find Root so off guard, with her hair pulled into a loose bun, with little smudges of soot on her shirt and holes in her blue jeans. 

Her walk is still the same, smug saunter as it always is though. Root lets her hair down as she approaches, on purpose Shaw thinks. 

“Welcome. May I take your coat?” Root offers, and Shaw does a bit of casing as she slips her arms free of the sleeves.

It was inaccurate to say Root didn't have any furniture; there's a mattress lying in the middle of the floor beside a steel column. Root had thrown some sheets and pillows on top and called it a bed. Next to that, her other Root things. A laptop, a bag, a few articles of clothing and a cell phone playing the music Shaw had heard earlier. 

“Is that for me?” Root asks, nodding to the bottle of wine in Shaw's hand. 

“Yeah, but uh,” Shaw rubs the back of her neck, glancing again at the great empty space. “I feel like I should have brought a plant or something, or a chair.”

“Busy week,” she says, internally debating where to hang Shaw's jacket, for a moment, until deciding to just throw it on the floor. “Haven't been home much lately-” and then Root laughs, lightly to herself. “It's strange isn't it?” 

“What is?” Shaw asks, halfway to the kitchen for a pair of drinking glasses before she realizes, Root probably doesn't have any of those either. 

“This place, my place... It is supposed to feel this weird?”

“Don't worry, the charm wears off pretty quick. Eventually, it'll be just another Tuesday night where you store all your things.” Shaw flops down on the edge of the mattress. “Correction, thing.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you.” Root teases. 

“Awfully rude of you, not owning a couch.” There are worse problems than not having a proper place to sit. “I'd guess you don't have cork screw either, or is that me being presumptuous again?”

Grinning, Root ambles to the spot next to Shaw on the mattress. “You'll have to use your imagination, sorry. I didn't think you'd bring anything fancy.”

The label is the only fancy thing about this wine, an Italian sounding word, Shaw thinks it means something like hat. The price tag said twelve, but she got it for six. 

Shaw flicks open her pocket knife and stabs it into the cork with a twisting motion. 

Root leans back and lounges on her elbows. “I did buy something yesterday, now that I think about it.”

“What?” Shaw asks, straining with the knife and the cork that wont budge.

Root nods. “That.” and Shaw looks in the direction. Hanging on the opposite pillar is a crudely sketched portrait. Of Shaw.

“Um, where did you get that?”

“From the man in the park,” Root replies, like it's supposed to mean something to Shaw. “Fun fact, he used to be police sketch artist until he injured his hand in a tragic trout-fisting accident. Anyways, if you pay him twenty dollars, he'll draw anyone you describe.”

Thankfully, Shaw gets the bottle open by then. The horrible taste of it helps her forget she ever heard the words trout-fisting back to back. “Hope you like cork in your fancy wine,” Shaw says and passes it on. “My eyebrows are off, by the way.”

“Hmm...” Root cocks her head the side, “I still like it.” She takes a swig from the bottle and grimaces almost instantly. 

“You know, you don't have to drink it,” Shaw says, laughing at the sour look on Root's face from the cheap wine. She has to run to the kitchen sink to wash her mouth out, it's so bad.

“Wanna see something cool?” Root asks when she returns and Shaw throws her a wary look. The last time Root tried to show her something cool, she ended up with stitches. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“No?”

“Then no.”

“Just close your eyes,” Root insists. “Please..”

“Fine.” and Shaw covers her eyes, however, she checks for any sharp objects in Root's hands and in the immediate vicinity first. Patiently, she waits on the bed, listening to Root as she scampers around in her bare feet, for a moment until there's a loud click and the main lights go off.

Shaw opens her eyes... winding up the steel columns and along the rafters high above the bed, Root's hung strings of lights. Of all shapes, sizes and colors, they're arranged in way that makes Shaw feel like she's sitting inside a Christmas tree. 

“So this is what you've been doing?” Shaw smirks to herself. The order of Root's priorities are a mystery to her.

“Livens the place up,” Root says, looking up with a kind of awe in her eyes, or maybe it's the light glowing from the red bulbs. 

Root joins her on the bed again. Their legs hang off the edge, their feet occasionally running into each other.  

Shaw takes another swig of the wine, biting at the taste. “So um, does this count?” she asks, and when Root turns to her mixed, she has to awkwardly clarify. “Is this part of that quality the Machine says we don't have enough of?”

Root says nothing, she just grins.

“Why not?” Shaw goes on the defense. She showed up, she brought the wine, she looked at the pretty lights and they're talking. If that isn't quality time, then what is? “I really think you should reevaluate-” and suddenly, Shaw is rendered speechless by Root, who grabs her face and kisses her. 

“That's why,” Root says, giving Shaw a quick peck on the lips before pushing her down on the bed and climbing on top. 

And Shaw doesn't protest either, when Root starts unbuckling her belt, she's beginning to think this may fall under another made up category in Root's head. Something along the lines of fun time. 

“But if your so worried about it, Sameen,” she says, leaning in as she pins Shaw's wrists above her head, “You can come by tomorrow. I'm going to Ikea.”

[pertinax--loculos]

[Excerpt from D/R-FR-TI]

[Okay, so, this is a scene I’ve had running around in my head for a few weeks. Finally started typing something that got me to it organically, and then it kinda ran away from me at the end. Kinda pleased with how it came out!

First draft, may be errors, etc etc.]

***

He didn’t even see Alec until after he’d punched him.

Raleigh stumbled backwards, catching up against the car beside his. The pain in his face was sharp, surprising, radiating from the impact point on his cheekbone all the way down his jaw and up into his hairline. He stared up at Alec, utterly bewildered, only semi-aware that his mouth was open.

“What the-” he managed weakly, the words sending fresh jabs of pain through his face.

Alec towered over him, standing less than a foot away. Raleigh couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. Even if he straightened, Alec had a good few inches of height on him, and he didn’t want to move in case it provoked another attack. So he stayed were he was, splayed out against the car and staring up into Alec’s hard eyes.

“You sick fuck,” Alec snarled. “Like to send your friends to do your dirty work, huh?”

Raleigh gaped at him. “I don’t- what are you-”

Alec moved quickly, violently, snatching a handful of his shirt and pulling him up so they were nose-to-nose. Raleigh flinched, belatedly. Alec was close enough that he could smell him, a mix of cigarettes and aftershave and something else, something acrid and burnt.

“They could’ve fucking killed him.” Alec’s eyes bored into Raleigh’s, his voice quiet but trembling with rage. “They nearly fucking did. Is that what you wanted? Are you fucking happy now?”

Raleigh’s heart was beating so hard he was fairly sure Alec would be able to feel it. His voice came out in a squeak. “I really don’t-”

Alec’s nose twitched in disgust and he shoved Raleigh, hard, back into the car. Raleigh gasped, almost winded.

“Stay the fuck away from him,” Alec said. “If I see you or one of your sick friends anywhere near him again, there won’t be a warning shot.” He waited for a moment, as if to see whether the words had sunk in, and then spun on his heel and walked away.

Raleigh stared after him. His face was starting to ache, a deep throb that seemed to come from inside his bones, but at least his breathing was starting to even out. When it did he finally had a moment to actually process Alec’s words, and everything fell together far too clearly.

He fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them three times before he managed to unlock his car.

Jasper had been gone the whole night. He said he’d been with Peter and Aldin. He looked like he’d been punched in the face.

He backed out far too quickly, trading paint with the car parked behind him.

Jasper knew about Dash.

He had to slam on the brakes to avoid running over a blonde pedestrian. She shouted some choice phrases paired with a few gestures, but Raleigh barely heard her.

They could’ve fucking killed him.

He was doing sixty before he even got on the main road.

They nearly fucking did.