#grind culture. grew up too fast.

[blueish-bird]

Oh No! by Marina is an Aki Hayakawa song. I will not be taking questions at this time.

[sapfromsaplings]

"passion."

(September 7-8, 2023)

i grew up a tomboy: refusing to wear dresses, skirts, even a shirt, or anything that made me seem like a girl. while being a girl. i refused to participate in "girly" things: i never liked dolls, i never liked to paint my nails, talk about boys, found makeup talk silly, and anything else your typical girl does. so, eventually, i grew up. i still refuse to wear dresses, skirts, and anything that even hints at the fact that i'm stuck with the body i was born with, but i try to hide it behind my hair that cuts off at my shoulders, my baggy clothes that resist me but show off their wrinkles instead, and a gym that has the capacity to mold people in who they wanna be, a perfect place for me. i still refuse to participate in "girly" things: i still don't like dolls, sometimes i paint my nails darker than the night sky, the only color that will allow me to be masculine, but then that makes me "gay," and that definitely doesn't make me a man.

a boy handed me my first rejection. i can still picture him now: his blonde hair, his tall structure, and the nice way he treated me when we were in fifth grade. i was young, gullible, and naive. it didn't bother me at all, but then i went chasing after girls who introduced me to my first heartbreaks. rejection transformed me into an individual who could handle pain, bury away my emotions, and keep my mouth closed. but my body language constantly betrays my mind: eyes lingering on girls i find attractive, my face flushing when met face-to-face with said girls, and a normally confident brain that turns into mush at the worst moments. alas, my heart beats fast for anyone.

i handle the pain inside, and bury away my emotions because of my family. born hispanic, raised white.

almost.

my father's american identity has warped itself onto i, leaving behind the memories and hopes of my mother's culture. my mother vowed to teach us children spanish, but her tongue refused, and well, we did too. i try to pick up the bits and pieces of whatever hope there is left of me discovering the rest of my culture, and establishing pride within my mother's side of the family, but a lot of them are missing forever.

my father speaks proudly of that of being an american, and i suppose that isn't the worst thing in the world, but he is rash, stubborn and decisive. it takes much to change his mind, and he inhales the propaganda of politics. he awaits for my brother to take his place and become a man. they get along much better than him and i, and i worry he won't ever see me as his son. he believes a man shouldn't cry, should be strong, and reaffirms that "boys will be boys." breaking down in front of him is an embarrassment, his emotional unavailability unable to comfort. crying in my house is seen as being "sensitive" and "manipulative," tears spilled during our youth confirming such to them. so the shower brushes the tears off my cheeks, clears my red-stained eyes, and reassures me that it's gonna be okay.

when my bathroom cannot save me, i go outside. i walk twenty minutes to a gym i adore, and i work myself to the extreme. my progress is reflected in photos and occasional giddy gazes into the mirror, i joke that i'm strong, but am i? an orange ball works my brain more than my brawn, and grinding for half of a summer amplified my abilities and my confidence. i bond with kids at a court i go to and i express myself, albeit lying in the process. although, i feel free there.

after long weeks of destressing externally, unable to find hope within the people around me, my spark has been ignited, the strokes of my keyboard fueling the energy behind the words i write. emotions have scattered hundreds of poems in a corner of a notes app: where so much pain, and joy, lies reflected in the titles and beginning lines. anyone reading them could be heartstruck, concerned, moved, and that's the beauty of poetry. poetry reflects what's within all of us in one way or another, and that's why the passion identity behind it shall never f a d e a w a y or escape me completely.

[actuallysaiyan]

My Personal Love Story: Jiraiya

Request: "She/ her. I'm an ISTP, born on the Pisces-Aries cusp, my venus sign is Taurus. I'm also an obsessive overthinker and very uncomfortable in my own skin. For my love language I like giving gifts and providing acts of service but in return, I secretly enjoy receiving affection through physical touch, which may be weird since i'm really private and reserved and too shy to initiate anything. I love travelling experiencing other cultures an trying new food. I need to go somewhere new a few times a year, it's one of the joys of my life because it is in my travels that I get to let go for a bit and just enjoy the moment and maybe consider doing something stupid because you can get away with it in a place you may not return to for a while (not too crazy though im a responsible adult haha). For a date, I'd prefer it to be really casual and relaxed coz it can be really uncomfortable for me to be meeting new people. You know, anxiety. lol idk if it helps but I have a dark sense of humor. For the character I'd like it to be a younger Jiraiya (so we'd be closer in age) because having a sense of humor is very important to me. He's just seems friendly and easy going i feel like he'd make me feel at ease. It can have a bit of smut 😅"

Your Song: I Melt With You- Modern English Headcanons:

Jiraiya was so taken aback by you at first. You met when you were both still teenagers, and you thought he was a little too inappropriate and rude. He grew on you over time as he matured(mostly...hahah) and he became a man. The next time you saw him was after the war, and you were the one to be taken aback.

It was a slow romance, Jiraiya wanted to make sure you felt comfortable. He was still recovering from some of his own problems and he had his own hopes and dreams, but he never forgot about you.

One night, he invited you out for dinner. You were surprised at how nervous you were about going on a date with Jiraiya. The whole night, Jiraiya had you laughing and smiling. You were so amazed at how much he had changed. You were starting to develop a crush on him.

Then as you continued to see one another, Jiraiya just made it official with you. He didn’t want to be with anyone else and he was ready to end his bachelor life if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life with you.

You and Jiraiya travel together as he tries to complete his quest. You’re always so blown away at the beauty of all the different cultures in this beautiful world. Jiraiya always picks out one souvenir from each place you go to so that you can bring it home.

When you’re both in Konoha, you live in a small house together. You have some wonderful memories in that house and you and Jiraiya love to make the most of it. He often will spend time writing his books as you relax and edit some of his manuscripts. This is a hobby you both enjoy while you’re both home.

Your sex life has never been better. Jiraiya knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he is very skilled at pleasing you. He is a very attentive lover and he knows all the special spots on your body to caress or bite. He always praises you so much and he very much enjoys making you feel good.

Lots of cuddles. Jiraiya loves having you fall asleep on his chest while you’re both taking a nap. He wraps himself around you, holding you close. He’ll place soft kisses to your forehead as he thanks whatever higher power is out there that let him have you in the first place.

Jiraiya is so proud of you. Anything you do, you know you will have your own personal cheerleader. Jiraiya will do anything to make you so happy, so he is very supportive of all your hobbies. He loves seeing you succeed as he recognizes how talented and wonderful you are.

Jiraiya also loves publicly showing you off. He thinks he’s so lucky to have you as his partner, and you are the sexiest person in his eyes. In public, he’s going to parade you around a little, but just know that it comes from a place of true love. He’s crazy about you.

Your First Kiss/First Time:

He unlocks the door to his apartment and lets you in. You are a little surprised that it’s this clean. You were expecting it to be a bit more like a guy’s place, but Jiraiya is someone who does enjoy having a clean space to be able to live comfortably.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I’m really enjoying our time together.” He says as he shuts the door behind him.

“I’m enjoying our time together too, Jiraiya.” You reply as he walks over to you. He slowly guides you towards the wall and you have your back pressed up against it.

His fingers tilt your head forward, as he looks deeply into your eyes. You can see so much emotion from this one look, and you swear you see a look of love and admiration in his eyes. Jiraiya leans in and captures your lips in a very sweet but passionate kiss.

You moan softly as you realize what’s happening. You lean in to kiss him back, your tongue teasings his lips. Jiraiya’s hands run from your shoulders down to your hips. You pull away to breathe, but it doesn’t take long for Jiraiya to kiss you once more.

His hands cup your ass as you feel him pull you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, as you feel yourself grow aroused. Your tongues fight for dominance as Jiraiya begins squeezing your ass.

“Jiraiya,” You whine breathlessly. Jiraiya smirks as he studies your plump red lips. You can feel his erection grinding up against you.

“I need you,” His voice is gruff and low as he confesses how he feels. You swallow hard, your heart beating so fast in your chest right now.

“I need you too,” you tell him. He just groans as he realizes what you’ve just said. He pulls you from the wall and carries you to the bedroom. When your back hits the mattress, you squeal in surprise. Jiraiya eyes you up and down.

“I love seeing you on my bed like this, you look so damn amazing.” He’s so aroused right now, he can’t think straight.

“Why don’t you join me?” You ask him in a teasing tone. His eyes light up at this and within seconds he’s next to you on the bed.

His lips connect to your neck, sucking and nipping while his hands make busy work with your shirt. You groan his name as he sucks on your sweet spot, making your pussy clench around nothing.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. I can’t wait to taste you.” Jiraiya says as he tosses your shirt to the ground. When he sees your breasts in that sexy bra of yours, Jiraiya goes absolutely feral.

You were in for a good night.

[gotnofucks]

Happily Ever After - 2

Paring: dark!Steve x desi!reader

Summary: You are welcomed in your new life, as the bride of Steve Rogers

Words: 4k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, loss of virginity, breeding kink (I think), 18+ ONLY

A/N: huge huge huge thanks to @donutloverxo for the inspiration of this chapter. I swear I may have written it, but most ideas belong to the wonderful girl Berry! You’re a sweetheart!

Part 1 (can be read as standalone but maybe read the previous part)

MASTERLIST

+++++

You felt sick as you gazed at the Avengers Compound, the whole building lit up with lights and decorated with flowers. Steve took your hand in his, a grin on his face as he led you past the beautiful rangolis in your welcome. You tried to take your hand away from his and he tutted.

“Now wife,” He seemed to love using that title, “don’t be a brat. Look how warmly everyone has come to welcome and congratulate us.”

You followed his gaze to the main door which were ajar, your new family waiting for you. You couldn’t help the scowl on your face when you noticed everyone was donning desi attire, not in the least bit bothered about how this wedding actually came to be. The tinkling of your anklets echoed as you approached the smiling avengers, a huge cheer booming for your welcome. Bucky stepped away from behind you and joined the crowd at your front, taking the aarti ki thali from Nat and wiggling his brows. He rotated the plate in front of you and Steve, showering you with flower petals. You bared your teeth at him, only making him smile wider.

Steve chuckled at you, leaning down to brush a very soft kiss on your brow and your jerked away.

“Be a good wife and kick the pot” He said pointing at the floor. You looked down and your mouth parted in surprise at the rice filled kalash on the doorstep, waiting for you to gently kick it inside. Steve really had outdone himself, read up on every small detail of your culture. You wondered if he knew the symbolism of this and glanced at his smug face from the corner of your eyes. He winked at you and you breathed sharply, kicking the kalash harder than necessary and sending the rice in it flying inside. The avengers clapped and cheered as you took a step inside, but before you could do more Steve swept you in his arms.

“Steve!” You shouted, arms automatically coming to hold him around the neck as he carried you over the threshold. Your heavy lehenga didn’t deter him, and he walked in with you with barely any effort.

“Some of your traditions darling, some of mine.” He whispered in your ear and you dunked your head in embarrassment as he took you towards the elevator to his floor. You didn’t bother glancing at the laughing people surrounding you, each of them as depraved as your husband.

Husband

It hadn’t sunk in yet that you were married to Steve Rogers, but as he carried you inside the elevator and the doors shut behind you both, fear gathered in your heart. You chanced a look up at his face, finding his cobalt blue eyes already locked on your face. The nervousness in your eyes just amused him more and he bit his lip before licking them.

“You’re going to love the room, I had Nat and Wanda decorate it for us.” He said once he finally set you down on your feet on reaching his floor. You wrung your hands uneasily, the truth of what lay ahead making you want to puke. Steve glanced at you, quirking a brow when you didn’t come forward.

“There are more rituals left, wedding games to be played.” You said softly, trying to stall a little more. Steve snickered at your obvious attempt to delay the night and he came forward to pull you in by your arms. He’d undone the top few buttons of his Sherwani, and you blinked as his chest barely peeked from the gap.

“We’ll play all the games that you want, fulfill all your customs and rituals wife. But tomorrow. I’ve waited too long to have you to wait another night.” His mouth met yours suddenly, huge bulky arms holding yours and restricting your movements. You hummed into the kiss, trying to shake your head but Steve held fast, parting your mouth with his tongue and deepening it. When he pulled away you were panting, hands trembling slightly as they rested on his massive chest.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled and your feet reluctantly dragged behind him, slipping slightly on the polished floor. Steve surprised you by not taking you to the bedroom but in the kitchen, leaving you only to pull out a saucer from his cabinet and the carton of milk from his fridge. His smile had turned mischievous and you backed away from until you met the cold marble counter at your back.

“Gotta say darling, your culture is amazing. They look after their men, don’t they? Like making them milk with aphrodisiac spices to maintain stamina at night?”

You shook your head when he looked at you expectantly, pointing at the milk and spices. When you didn’t move, he came forward and clutched your waist, the bare flesh between your blouse and lehenga meeting his warm hands and breaking into gooseflesh.

“Why must you make everything so difficult, huh? Just make me the goddamn milk.” He hissed, standing so close that your chest brushed his. You trembled as his eyes grew annoyed and jumped into action when he pinched your waist, making you squeal. You turned around and out of his hold, gathering almonds and saffron and quickly grinding them together in a pestle. As you worked you could feel Steve’s warmth at your back, his hand sneaking out to hold you from under your chest.

“Steve, I am cooking.” You complained felt his chest rumble in laughter behind you. He rested his head on yours, caging you against the kitchen counter with his massive body. Somehow, his body heat felt warmer than the steam rising from the boiling milk on the stove from your front. As you added your spices to the milk, watching it turn from white to pale yellow, one of Steve’s hand unclasped the heavy jewelry from your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut as his touch roamed over your back and traced the column of your neck, his breath hitting you right behind your ears and making you shiver.

“I don’t need this milk for stamina, you make me hard for days, but I am honoring your culture. You’ll be such a good wife to me, I’ll make sure of it.” He said and pressed a searing kiss on the juncture of your throat, his hands clutching you tight to him. Your breath became labored as his lips trailed over your shoulder and you wiggled. He let you go so you could pour him the saffron milk, smirking as he sipped it.

“You wanna feel magic?” He asked, taking your hand and pressing it to his crotch. A whimper escaped your lips as his hardness swelled beneath your palm, his own hand over yours keeping it in place. You begged him with your eyes to let you go, but he simply pressed harder in your hand and let out a groan.

“Steve, please.” You pleaded when Steve put down his empty glass beside you and trapped you against the counter. His breath washed over your parted lips and you could taste it on your own tongue. His hands wound around you, pulling you flush to his chest until there was nothing in between.

“You look so pretty when you beg me” He breathed. Your head was cradled in his chest, hands fisting his sherwani when a few errant tears dropped past. Steve touched the wetness on your cheeks, spreading it with the pad of him thumbs over your face. “God, what a mess you’ll make with this makeup as I make you choke on me. Look at this tiny mouth, darling.”

A discomforted whine tore free from you when he pushed two fingers inside your mouth, spreading them apart to stretch open your lips. The ends of your mouth arched, his thick digits pressing over your wet tongue, making you gag. He laughed at that, wiping his wet fingers softly over your lips before chastely kissing your forehead.

“Come, lets go christen our house.”

Your heart was thudding painfully in your chest and your bangles clinked together as you fought him. It was ridiculous how insignificant your strength was compared to him, how easily he could pull you along just like a toy. Your cries pierced the air, but your husband simply shoved you inside the bedroom and shut the door. Even with terror flowing in your veins, a begrudging appreciation was apparent as you looked at what would be your bedroom.

The whole room was fragrant with flowers, several chains of flower hanging over the bed and making a beautiful canopy overhead. The bed itself was decorated with rose petals, and soft candles were sputtering in every corner. Your breath hitched in your throat as your stared at the room, the sheer domesticity and beauty of it feeling like a taunt. The ugly nature of your union with Steve was about to sully the piousness of this night, and you resisted the urge to tear away every decoration hanging from the ceiling.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve purred in your ear, his hands coming to hold your from behind. His hardness ground in your lower back, and you sniffed as you felt his teeth nip your earlobe.

“Please don’t do this Steve.” Begging him was your last resort, you’d already lost your dignity. But you’d give away the last shred of it to save your innocence. “You promised you love me, please don’t do this. Give me some time.”

Steve turned you around to face him, your chin in his finger and thumb as he peered deep in your eyes. The blue in his had given way to a darker hue, almost black as lust invaded his senses. He pushed you back towards the bed, not looking away from your face for one second.

“Time? Baby, this night should have come months ago. You should have been on your knees for me that night I first I asked you, but you had to be a fucking bitch about it. But no matter, I’ve got you now. You can worship me now.”

The back of your knees met the mattress and you sat on the edge of the bed, looking up fearfully at Steve who was methodically removing his clothes. His eyes seemed glued to your form as he unveiled his body to you, carelessly throwing away his clothes. You gulped in fear, eyes moist when you realized what would happen.

“Don’t look like that honey. Consider them lessons as a wife in training. A good wife should always know how to pleasure her man.”

He finally pushed down his boxers, his cock bouncing out and hard, pointing right at you with its weeping head. You stifled another gasp because it looked so red and angry. And huge. Its head was mushroom shaped, leaking dewy pre-cum from its slit, the roundness of it so huge you wanted to bolt away. Steve chuckled as he took in your reaction to his cock, his fist enveloping his length to stroke up and down, pulling on the soft skin.

“Don’t worry honey, it will fit. That’s my job to make sure it does. You…You just need to suck.”

You closed your eyes, hoping you’ll escape the terror this way. It was just like you were a kid again hiding under your blanket, believing that if you couldn’t see the horrors, they’d stop existing. Those silly notions however remained in your childhood when you felt his heavy tool slap your face lightly, some of its wetness sticking to your cheek. Strong fingers grasped your jaw, forcing it open and Steve pushed into your mouth slowly. A sinful moan emanated from him, your mouth holding his pulsing length in your warmth.

“Open your eyes, let me gaze at your soul as I make your body mine.”

You blinked at him with watery eyes, your hands pushing against his thighs when he thrust in deeper. His hands were in your hair, helping you bob up and down as you slobbered over him, your saliva dribbling down to his balls. Pleasured grunts kept leaving Steve’s open mouth as painful whimpers left yours. He was so huge you could barely take half of him, the corners of your mouth cracking open a little due to his girth.

“Just like that honey, suck a little harder – Yesss! Now press that tongue on my underside…Just like that, yeah.”

You tried to breath through your nose, following his commands that made it a little easier. Your tears had pooled at the point of your chin, dripping down slowly. Steve pulled out of your mouth suddenly, pinching his cock a little with a pained expressed, relaxing after a minute.

“You’ll learn to swallow me later, but tonight my cum is going straight in that cunt of yours.”

Your eyes widened in terror, the mascara and makeup smudged all over your face casting you a pitiful creature. Steve to your surprise gently started removing the numerous jewelries from your body, his hands soft as they reached the hundreds of pins keeping your hair up.

“Steve, I – I don’t want a baby. Not yet.” You said and he shot you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t too, not yet.” He assured you, still detangling your hair with utmost care. “I want you to myself for some time, need you only for my pleasure. I am not ready to share you with a squealing brat anytime soon, even if that brat is mine.”

Your scalp hurt as it was finally free off the accessories, and Steve massaged it with his fingers. Why was he being so sweet all of a sudden? You peeked at him with a confused expression on your face, the pout on your lip making him coo.

“Believe what you will Y/n, I have loved you most ardently. It may not seem like that now, but it is true.”

His words should have soothed you, given you hope about the grim marriage you were forced in, but instead they made you mad. How could a man be so ignorant to think his obsession as love? How could any person in the world treat someone they love as Steve did to you? You drew in an angry breath, a curse hissed from between your teeth before you punched his stomach. Steve staggered back, more from surprise than the force behind your weak punch. His own angry eyes met yours in challenge and you were thrown in the center of the bed before you realized it.

“You dumb bitch!” He seethed, his body hovering over yours and trembling with barely suppressed rage. “I’ve tried to be fucking gentle with you, but if you want to act like a spoiled brat, then that’s how I’ll goddamn treat you!”

Two hands grabbed your blouse and pulled, the ripping noise echoing in the room as your beautiful blouse gave out at the seams and split. You cried out under him, breasts spilling free and bouncing. He didn’t seem to feel your hands pushing on his bare chest, too busy to remove your heavy, multi layered lehenga. When he finally removed the offending garment, he settled over you, his heavy cock hitting your clothed center. You were trembling in a mix of fear, nausea, and anger. The spare few bangles on your wrists merrily jingled as you struggled with the kiss forced on your lips, Steve’s lips travelling down from there to your throat, leaving teeth marks in their wake.

“You are too wild my wife, but I know how to tame a fiery dame. I’ll show you how to worship your man.”

The heat of his mouth enveloped your hardening nipple, his tongue swirling around it. You keened under him, your tears leaving black mascara tracks over your cheeks and spilling on the pristine white bed sheet beneath. Rose petals crushed under your body, their sweet smell the most offending thing to greet you in this moment.

“Stop it! Please!” You begged, not because it was too painful but just the opposite. The captain on the field was also a captain in bed, leading your body in a journey of sweet sweet pleasure that had you mewling as his mouth descended. You didn’t want this feeling, this excitement that coursed through your body and settled like simmering heat deep in your womb. You didn’t want to let out that moan when Steve ripped off your panties and licked your drenched core.

“Oh good lord, you take like heaven. My angel, my beacon of light, so sweet like honey.”

His words affected you as much as his tongue, your lust addled brain taking his sweet praises directly to your heart and warming you up for him. As you writhed under him, felt his supple tongue dip inside you and around your hard nub, you pondered over the irony. By all means, he was your husband. Forced as the marriage may have been, it was conducted with full rites in the holy witness of agni (fire) and with proper rituals. Was this why you felt this way? Because somewhere, in some deep recess of your twisted mind you accepted the role as his wife, as his other half whose sanctified role was to serve and please him?

Your body drew up in an arch, eyes snapping open as you howled your release in the air, your juices spilling directly in Steve’s mouth who slurped them away with relish. The maintained the eye contact as he licked the last of your essence had your walls clenching around nothing and you drank in the erotic sight of his massive body between your thick thighs, his blond hair askew.

“You see how good we can be Y/n? How good I can make you feel?”

He pushed a finger in your still slightly pulsing channel, rubbing along your spongy walls to help you open. He was so thick, so meaty that you’ll pass out from the pain if unprepared. Another finger entered, and you threw your head back, sobbing and confused from the conflicting emotions inside you. You felt him scissor you open, your untouched entrance straining under the pressure and a pained hiss escaping you.

“Just a little more my darling, need to loosen you up.”

He climbed up your body, bringing his face over yours and kissing you deep. You responded without thinking, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moaned. When you felt him line up along your entrance, your hands shot out to take hold of his shoulders, squeezing.

“Condom. Please, you said no kids.” You begged and Steve kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours.

“Our first-time won’t be with a layer between. I want to feel you, and nothing will come in the middle of this union. In fact, nothing will ever come between us. I’ll get you on birth control, but I am not wearing rubber. My seed will always find their end deep inside you.”

You shook your head, fisting his hair to get his attention.

“Steve please, don’t do this. Its too much of a risk…You have a very potent DNA. You’re enhanced.”

Steve ignored your words, reaching down to align himself again and starting to push in. You scrunched your eyes shut as his bulbous head barely started stretching your walls, your pathetic sniffles fanning his neck.

“Listen to me well, you don’t tell me what to do. I will always have you as I want, whenever I want. Your job is to present for me, be ready for me with a wet cunt to slide right in.”

And he did just that. He fed in every inch of this thick cock in your core, tearing through the flimsy barrier that made you cry out loud. You were sobbing in his chest, holding onto the one responsible for the pain in the first place. When you felt his pelvis flush against yours, you buried you head in his neck, begging him to stay still.

“Shh baby, its okay. It had to happen. It won’t hurt in a little while.” He soothed you, distracting you with little kisses all along your face and collarbone. You looked at him with watery eyes, not knowing how to feel about him as he sat balls deep inside you. It was when he reached between your bodies and drew back bloody fingers that your heart contracted in sorrow. Your virtue, all but snatched from you.

“Look at you staining the white bedsheet with the proof of your innocence. You saved yourself for your husband, and here is your reward.” Steve murmured and your walls trembled when he sucked your virgin blood in his mouth. You breathed deeply, gazing into his eyes and your hands traveled to his back, the thick muscles rippling under your touch.

“If I bleed, so will you!” You declared and with that you dug your nails in his flesh and raked them down his back in vengeance, his pained screech followed by just as painful a thrust. He moved inside you like a demon, pushing into your body as if trying to come out of the other end. Both your voices rose in the air along with pants, your nails digging deeper in his back and a small stream of blood poured over the curve of his back and met the white sheets.

“You!” Steve hissed, kissing you, fucking you. His hands travelled the expanse of your curves, dipping into every crevice and his hard cock scratched your walls deliciously. “You make me so fucking mad. I want to kill you, but I want to kill you by giving you so much love, so much pleasure.”

As his words became unintelligible, his thrusts harder and deeper, your voice higher, the coil in your gut tightened and tightened until it finally snapped and your heat clutched him in a velvet grip, milking his cock. Steve groaned, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he breathed heavily, the last of his cum painting your womb.

You lay beneath his heaving body, your blood staining his cock while his stained your hands. You matched the fire in his eyes with the glowing embers in yours, and a smile tugged on his lips as he delicately pulled out. You winced in pain, a chocked noise coming from you that made him wince in return. He reached over the other side of the bed, pulling out a basin from underneath and a wet towel. You watched in awe as he slowly, almost reverently cleaned between your legs, soft hushes cooed to you in a kind voice.

“You don’t see it yet, but you need me just as much as I need you. Fire like yours, it can only be matched by someone like me. You’ll burn every other man to a crisp, but me? I like that burn, I challenge your fire. We are made for each other, for no other woman could have taken me like you just did.”

You turned away from him, him and his words that made shame wash over you. How wantonly you had responded to his touch, how ferociously you had clawed his back like a tigress, subconsciously leaving your mark on him as he did on you. You felt his warm, sweaty body curl against you from behind, holding you close.

“I love you” He confessed again. “I will always love you, despite the glare of your eyes and venom of your words. I will always come back to you, just like you will to me. You’re not leaving me wife, not now, not ever.”

Your husband gathered you in his massive arms, cocooning you in his warmth and love as the last of your tears dried. He let you sniffle, hand running through your damp hair in a loving caress.

“I won’t take your name.” You suddenly blurted and Steve’s form shook behind you with silent laughter. His arms tightened around your middle, his semi hard cock nestling between the plump cheeks of your bottom.

“Take it? My dear, you talk like I ever gave you the option. The future for us Rogers seems to be bright indeed.”

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taglist: @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @sweeterthanthis @shooting-star-love  @bluemusickid @scentedsongrebel @harrysthiccthighss @muralskins

[voice-of-anarchy]

ARCH ENEMY's MICHAEL AMOTT: I've Always Been Interested In A Blend Of 'Aggression' And 'Melody'

In a new interview with Rauta, ARCH ENEMY guitarist Michael Amott was asked if he gets any inspiration to listening to newer metal bands. He responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "I don't really listen to current metal deeply. I've had a very wide taste of music. I grew up in a kind of eclectic home. My mother is a big fan of classical music and jazz, so I kind of grew up on that first. But I'm into everything, man. If it's got a good melody…

"When you're a musician for so many years, you become a little bit jaded maybe," he continued. "If you've heard it before, you don't really connect with it. You can quickly figure out what they're doing and it's maybe not that interesting. But if somebody comes out with something that's just, 'Oh, I've never heard that…' Nowadays it's more about fusion — taking one idea, mixing it with another and adding something else. That's kind of what you have to do now.

"I grew up in a time when metal was very pure and hardcore punk was very pure," Amott added. "It was very scene based. You stayed in your lane. And I did that; I grew up with that. And if bands got a little bit more melodic, I just dropped them: 'Fuck this band. They've got melodic vocals.' I just wanted the hard, fast, heavy shit. I was like that; I was that teenager. But then you grew up a little bit, and I improved on my instrument; I became more interested in [incorporating other styles into the music]."

When the interviewer pointed out that even Amott's former band CARCASS went from playing "gore grind" in the early years to pursuing a "more melodic" sound, Michael said: "Yeah, I was a part of that a little bit, with the '[Necroticism – ]Descanting [The Insalubrious]' album and the 'Heartwork' album in the early '90s. So that was a breaking point as well, of course — melody in the death metal sound.

"With ARCH ENEMY, I'm really interested in melody, I'm really interested in riffs," he explained. "I'm very much still into classic metal — a lot of the more obscure stuff. I've listened so much to IRON MAIDEN and JUDAS PRIEST and all those kind of bands that I'm kind of done with that. I'm a record collector, a vinyl collector, I'm into all that obscure stuff that nobody's ever really heard of on a large scale. But I find some inspiration in that. And I really kind of like bad metal from the '80s. I like, basically, kids making noise, and that kind of gives me the energy. 'Cause I'm always trying to find my way back to that 15-year-old Michael Amott that's excited about metal. I surround myself in my music room with just artifacts of metal culture and punk culture and the stuff I grew up on, and I just get into that zone. And that's how I try to keep it fresh. I don't really hear something new that's out there now and go, 'Oh, that's cool. I wanna put a bit of that in ARCH ENEMY.' That never happens. It's more like everything that we've listened to, it's all inside of us and it's just a mix. And I've always been interested in this blend between aggression and heaviness with the melody and the catchiness, but not going too much on the pop side, but staying metal. It's just like a balance. It's difficult. [Laughs] It's always a challenge."

ARCH ENEMY's 11th studio album, "Deceivers", arrived on August 12 via Century Media Records.

The band played the first show of its "The North American Siege 2022" tour with BEHEMOTH and NAPALM DEATH on April 16 at The Marquee in Tempe, Arizona.

ARCH ENEMY is appearing at select summer festivals before embarking on the rescheduled "European Siege 2022" trek (with BEHEMOTH, CARCASS, UNTO OTHERS) in the fall.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Monster Match #3

From the absolutely lovely @swedishfawn:

She pronouns, romantic, pan. Attention and affection seems to be my love language. Gift giving falls flat because I grew up poor. Now that I'm better off, I like using money to spoil, instead of keeping it. Gifts only have meaning when I can tell the person thought about it. Sometimes I have body disphoria because I'm average male height, even though I'm a woman. I try to embrace it and my curves. I also have long curly hair, which I wasn't allowed to have as a child/teen. It helps me feel feminine. I love art. Especially music. But I'm not a singer or musician. I do paint. Introverted until I feel safe, then when called upon, I can be the extrovert. Forests. Mountains and rivers. Large empty house. Cats as companions. Very Scandinavian. But MANY cultures are envied and enjoyed. Was an engineer major that ended up in business. Got the girlboss vibes when needed, but it's very over rated. Genuine and gullible. Doesn't understand why people are mean. (Except when being treated terribly)

You have been matched with a Leshy! You’re leshy is quiet, lurking, a presence that someone could easily overlook while hiking in the forest. He blends in naturally with the trees and the moss, existing through a direct connection to the forest. Your leshy wasn’t necessarily born the way most people of flesh are, he doesn’t remember having a mother or father. Instead, one day, years and years and years ago, he opened his eyes and became fully conscious. No childhood, no youthful years, only slipping through the rotting remains of a thousand-year old tree trunk.

Existence to the Leshy is a fundamentally different thing than how humans might view it. Humans always ask questions (why is this, why is that, how can we find out?), but your Leshy doesn’t question his appearance. It happened. He exists. He lives for the forest, as its caretaker, it’s protector, and there is nothing else to question. As long as the forest exists, so lush and vibrant against the mountains, so will he. On a similar ideal, he doesn’t necessarily count time the way people in close-knit civilizations do. There is no morning wake up, there is no grind, there are no six pm meetings or requests for overtime. He cares for the forest, listens for its needs, keeps it healthy, and that is his task.

Your Leshy and his appearance changes with the seasons, much like the trees. His skin shifts and adapts to look like leaves, hair colored and covered in moss. His antlers sprout out like branches, as well spouting a few bony spikes along his spine. Even though he seems to be able to grow and shrink at will, he tends to be just tall enough to be intimidating, but not too tall to be immobile under the forest’s canopy. His figure is sharp and bony, his back and arms more tree-like than humanoid. Despite his plant-based appearance, he can move remarkable fast, able to get from one end of the forest to another just about as quickly as someone can say “hey what the fuck is that?”

He sees humans the same way most humans see bears. Majestic creatures, some of them good for the environment, but mostly as dangerous creatures to keep far away from. Humans have yet to reach this section of his wilderness, most satisfied to walk through the many trails out in the outskirts. Only a few adventurous or stupid enough traverse into his territory, and he’s quick to quietly manipulate them back onto the correct path.

That’s how people know about him. A ten year old who wandered off from her parents returned to the visitor's center the next morning, saying a talking tree gave her something to drink and a blanket to keep out the chill. A seventeen year old runaway claimed that he saw a creature folding the forest in half, making the hike down the mountain only a few minutes long. The reason why creatures like him get sightings is when they’re not malevolent or uncaring enough to abandon lost souls out in the trees.

There’s an entire mythos surrounding him, the Beast of the Northern Woods, but much like Bigfoot, most people in the area think it’s all good and fun. No harm, no foul, because if he does exist, he seems to be mostly harmless. Though, when some rich resort owners came sniffing around the woods for a new location, all they’re equipment stopped working, their expensive cars smashed to smithereens. How unfortunate and sad for them.

Earning his trust was a long and arduous task.

But, time spent in the forest while just… wandering around, with nothing else to do but look at trees on bad days… Your leshy did not necessarily find companionship with others of his kind, mostly because they are territorial-based. Not territorial, as in fighting over their respective parts of the forest, but they tend to stick in their own area, guarding and tending to their own slice of earth. So, he was a bit confused when he found that he liked your company, because that’s something he’s never considered needing before.

He’s not talkative because he doesn’t need to be. But… when he knows everything that happens in the forest. Well, not specifically, him, but all the wildlife reports to him. You would not believe the amount of drama that goes down in forests. Do you think the foxes are gentle little creatures that keep to themselves? No, the bastardly little beasts cause more trouble than bears. You’ve never experienced real drama until a hoard of birds comes with grievance lists forty kilometers long.

And just because some animals aren’t monogamous does not mean feelings aren’t hurt when their lover knocks some other chipmunk up. Your Leshy has played the part of the couple's counselor, the very buff friend that goes to get half the nuts from the mutual burial hoard after a nasty breakup, and even the awkward uncle who gets to be the ‘babysitter’ for a day. The younger birds especially seem to enjoy perching on his back’s spiky branches while he works, chirping insistent and intrusive questions.

His voice, like him, can change to fit how he wants. He can shout so loud every bird in the mountains flees, roar so ferociously that hunters turn around and leave endangered wildlife alone. But he also can talk in the softest, most gentlest tone, like a brush of cool water on a hot summer’s day, just to convince an orphaned chick that she can fly if she just flaps her wings. His voice sounds like the forest, something unfathomably old, grand as the highest and most ancient tree, but also youthful and teaming with life.

He can wrap you up completely in his arms, when he’s short, or pick you up and set you on his shoulder when he’s tall. You’ve seen the forest from an angle you didn’t think was possible, watching the sun set with the relaxed assurance that he could set you back down on the outskirts of the forest.

[painterofhorizons]

For the Shepard ask meme: 6, 16, and 30?

From this Shepard meme. Feel free to send stuff.

Oh, thank you so much for sending the ask back then! ^.^ I did mean to answer them earlier, but they were HARD. :D

16. What songs does your Shepard sing in the shower?

I... don't think Reda Shepard is someone who sings in the shower. Not even in theory. But coming back from the dead unto the SR2 and that hilariously huge cabin that she absolutely hates and that ridiculously huge private bathroom and that stupic window over her bed? And the constant physical pain she is from being waken up too early after Cerberus patched her back together and meanwhile the mind fuckery of having been dead flesh for two years? I definitely see Reda BLASTING music in that private bathroom of hers, just to keep her distracted from everything going on and especially from her very wrong new body. That would be music without singing though, probably some hard and fast electronical beats, something loud and aggressive to drown the pain and the thoughts that creep in once she sits down in silence. So it's more a desperate coping mechanism and less "singing in the shower" exactly.

30. How does your Shepard handle difficult situations?

Professional. If enlisting and working with Anderson for so many years has taught her anything, it's staying professional, grinding through and keeping her damn mouth shut if it's really needed. She'll be grumpy about it later, in private, in the gym, while sparring or in combat simulation training. But real life difficult situations? She might not always handle them gracefully, but rather with pressed lips and clenched teeth at times. But she'll stay professional and get the job done. She's very much a "do your job and don't fuck around" type, and she's good at that.

Private difficult situations? She's not so professional about those. She feels clumsy around people as persons, not as professional opponents, and doesn't know how to handle being human, neither with herself nor with others. Mostly she will try to avoid "personal difficult situations", which is pretty easy with her 24/7 work mentality. I assume private kinds of situation may rather arise in her time with Cerberus, because there's no alliance military and structure that she can be. She doesn't know really well who she is outside being a marine, so that might back fire once she stops being a marine.

6. From what culture does your Shepard come? Do they have any traditions? If they’re Earthborn and/or don’t know much about their background: From what city/planet does your Shepard come? Did they create any traditions based on the city they grew up in?

I have to admit, that part of Reda Shepard's background is pretty… blank to me still. ^^' So she is earthborn and I once mentioned that she was // the Reds were from Calgary, Canada. That decision was very random, because I needed something within reach from Vancouver because I wrote that that was where Anderson's unit was stationed. I don't even remember if that was canon or also just something I made up in 2015. And since I haven't really decided if I'm keeping these random bits of info from that very first ME piece I wrote 7 years ago… I honestly don't have much to say about her time with the Reds/before meeting Anderson yet. I am adding that to my list of think-abouts though. :D

[darkisrising]

You are someone else, I am still right here, by DarkIsRising

Thanks to @treescape for the prompt: Vaderwan: “Kill my feelings, kill my soul. Kill everything I am.”

Mature themes, dark, a little violent... Oh, boy, it’s baby’s first Vaderwan y’all! Read here or on ao3 

You are someone else, I am still right here

If ever there was a time for a well-executed escape, it would be right about now.

Now, when Obi-Wan is sitting on the cold, durasteel slab that serves as a cot, the kick of the regurgitated air supply coming through a vent too small to pass through and too high to attempt with his injuries (and maybe in his younger days he would have attempted it anyway, but he’s feeling too worn down by sands and suns to so much as make it an idle thought).

Now, when he can hear the echoing tread of regulation boots made heavier by body armor as troopers pass by his cell (and if he closes his eyes it’s almost like he’s back on the Negotiator, his men walking through the halls, and he tries not to think of how many could very well be his men because his heart can only ache with so much regret).

Now when he can feel the turbid miasma of darkness that chokes the Force with a fetid, acrid stink that is so near to the scent of sulphur that Obi-Wan can almost feel the heat of lava and the singe of a lightsaber as it bears down on him (and the screams sound in his ears, of a future denied them and a past that becomes blighted with every clash of their blades, as they do every night when sleep eludes him and every morning when meditation does, too).

But escaping is a dangerous game at present. And even were he to make it off this cruiser, where else is there to go but back to the same desert planet, the same skin-blistering heat, the same stretch of rolling, yellow dunes?

There’s sand on the floor. Even here it follows him and Obi-Wan stares at the grains of it, of where his boots and the boots of the stormtroopers that captured him have tracked this trace of Tatooine into his prison.

His eyes are still downcast as the door of his cell opens, as someone steps inside, and he can hear the grit of it as black boots—impeccably clean in a way he never could convince his restless apprentice to keep his as he grew—grind the sand underfoot.

“Hello, my dear,” Obi-Wan says. It’s been a while since he’s used this particular tone—insouciant in the face of certain death—yet it comes easily now. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand…” he gestures to his leg, the break of it plain in the strange angle of his knee.

“Oh, please, Master—” and that one word spoken in the mouth of this near-stranger does more to eviscerate him than any broken bone could hope to “—allow me.”

There’s no point in keeping his screams from ringing through the small room, no point in pretending that the agony he feels as his bones shift, and realign, and are made to grow together at an unnatural speed is anything less than absolute.

When it’s over Obi-Wan sags against the wall. A furious sweat dampens his forehead and his skin shivers with shock. Still, he digs deep into the teeth-clenched inner reserves of strength he’s had to cultivate over his life and in a thin, jaunty tone says: “Many thanks.”

Anakin snorts in dark amusement and then raises his hand. Obi-Wan is jerked forward, plucked into the air by an invisible grip until he is standing on his newly re-formed leg.

Tilting his head up, Obi-Wan forces himself to meet Anakin’s gaze: yellow where once a crystalline blue had been.

So much of him is still the same and that is it’s own cruelty.

“Two years, Obi-Wan,” he says, mouth flattened, and Obi-Wan could almost believe that it’s from disappointment. “That’s all it took me to find you.”

“You always were exceptionally efficient at anything you set your mind to, Anakin.”

“And you were always exceptionally arrogant, my master.” The door behind him closes and now Obi-Wan is alone in this cell with Anakin. He’s alone in this cell with Anakin and Anakin’s pressing darkness that winds through the empty spaces between them, doing more to burn away the breathable air than a fire ever could. “You know very well that is no longer my name.”

“You must forgive me. Where I’ve been living hasn’t afforded me the ability to stay current on galactic events,” he bluffs. “Tatooine is rather in the middle of nowhere, as I’m sure you remember. Is there something else you’d prefer I call you?”

“My name is Darth Vader.”

Obi-Wan lets the silence sit and then gives a careful, neutral: “Ah.” A muscle in Anakin’s jaw bulges as he his teeth grind together. “It’s lovely.”

The air turns more dense—more claustrophobic—as the weight of Anakin’s ire bears down on him. “You,” Anakin says, stepping closer and Obi-Wan holds his ground. “Are so—” Whatever he had been on the verge of saying is bitten away and then banished by a swift shake of his head. “What’s on Tatooine, old man?”

“Sand.” Obi-Wan says without thinking and he gets an invisible vise around his throat for it.

Anakin persists, stepping nearer, staring into his face and he’s close enough that Obi-Wan can see the industrial shuttle light cast a sheen on his eyelashes. “Why of all the planets in all the star systems did you choose that one?”

“The…” he pants through his swiftly closing airway. “Weather.”

“Try again.”

“Always...admired…” Flickers, like a gathering of gnats, are at the corner of his vision now and his lungs are burning for breath. “...Jawa culture…”

“Obi-Wan,” he chides, tightening his grip and this time Obi-Wan can only muster a sound—nothing like words and everything like the desperate last gasp of a dying body—as blackness eats away all that he sees.

He’s on the precipice of unconsciousness—a cliff’s edge that he is inching toward with every passing, choking second—when abruptly he’s released. He collapses in a heap, sputtering for air, and when his vision darkens again this time it’s because Anakin’s form is looming over him. Yellow eyes glint and gold flecked hair spills over his shoulder as he crouches over where Obi-Wan lays.

“Let’s try this again.”

“Must we?” Obi-Wan wheezes.

“Why were you on Tatooine?”

Any number of thoughts roll through his sluggish mind—obfuscations, goadings, taunts—but none of them will throw Anakin off his question for long. And, to his credit, it is an excellent question. It is the question that Obi-Wan most dreads he discovers the answer to. The reason he didn’t leave Mustafar to throw himself into the fray of battle once more. The reason for the hut in the dune sea and the quiet vigil he’s held on the Lars homestead and the yawning loneliness of desert nights beneath an impossible spill of stars. It's the reason, the one thing, that has kept him tethered to this mortal plane when so often the winds of Tatooine have beckoned for him to follow their howling call during a sandstorm and let them swallow him down.

But this.

This is what he was tasked with: the protection of a boy at any cost. At any cost, and his obfuscations and goadings and taunts might very well be the thing that strikes fire to the tinder of his former apprentice’s rage enough to kill him once and for all, but who will protect the boy, then?

He needs a distraction. One that will last.

He needs to enter the maw of the creature that Anakin has become and dwell there a while.

Anakin is kneeling now, coming ever closer, and there is one last gambit he can try. One last ploy that might very well break his spirit, his heart, his mind, even if it keeps him alive for years to come.

“Why were you on Tatooine, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan licks his chapped, split lips. He tastes the metal tang of blood and says, in a voice that is ruined by violence, “So that you could find me.”

Anakin recoils at that, jerking backwards as if he’s been slapped. “No,” he says. “No you were there for a reason. I know it. They must have sent you...”

The laugh that Obi-Wan huffs is real. “Who? Who is there left to send me anywhere?”

“The Council—”

“Is gone,” Obi-Wan says. “The Order is gone. I'm all that is left.” Obi-Wan grits his teeth against the bruises and bleeding, fights until he is on his knees. Anakin’s eyes widen as Obi-Wan pulls himself upright and now they are of a height. “Do with me what you will.”

Anakin’s mouth is soft when it finds him; warm when it falls open and he lets in a hungry, questing tongue as it seeks out the taste of Obi-Wan—shattered and battered and brought low—and Anakin savors them all with a moan. Obi-Wan wishes he were strong enough to keep his eyes open, but it’s easier to forget where he is—who he is—when there’s not so much light.

Arms wrap around Obi-Wan’s waist, holding fast and tight and he breaks away from their kiss to give a yell of agony at the pain Anakin’s questing hands mete. Anakin doesn’t notice, whispering instead into the vulnerable curve of Obi-Wan’s throat: “You know how much I’ve wanted this. For years and years I’ve wanted this.”

“I know.” Subtlety had never been a trait that Anakin had cared to nurture. There have been all the ‘fresher doors accidently left open as his padawan showered and all the cots claimed as Obi-Wan’s own inexplicably filled with the sleeping sprawl of a knight fresh from the field, and all the war zones where the only way to save Obi-Wan’s life was to shield him beneath the protective weight of General Skywalker’s body.

“You said it was forbidden.”

“It was.” And even though his cracked ribs sing and the places where blaster fire singed his flesh crack open to bleed again, Obi-Wan reaches up. He brings his arms around Anakin’s broad shoulders, and their bodies press together until there is only cloth and heat and dwindling time between them. “But who is left to stop us now?”

He lets himself be taken then, murmuring praises all the while because this is something Obi-Wan can do. He can become Anakin’s pet—his plaything—and maybe someday when the years have stripped Obi-Wan of his pride and his body has been broached by another so fiercely it is no longer his own to claim... maybe then he’ll look across a field of some new battle, some new planet, some new space station to see the blue eyes of another Skywalker, a new Skywalker, a Skywalker that has lived and grown and come into his own, and he’ll know it all will have been worth it.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

In Bloom - Part 2

Plant Monster!Yunho x Female Reader

Word Count: 4945

Contents: technically virgin!Yunho, breast play, oral (female receiving), vine bondage, fingering, protected sex

Notes: I got going on part 3 so @lustjoong part 2 is out! Also this part has a special guest hehe

Prequel | Introduction | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

What Yunho’s Flowers Look Like

The last few weeks you’d been visiting Yunho more and more. Neither of you had the courage to ask about your relationship status or what a relationship between you would mean or look like. You did, however, fool around almost every time.

Yunho was more than eager to explore your body and try out new things. It excited him to play around with you and he was growing more and more confident and cocky, even if he usually started out a little flustered. You couldn’t complain either. He was a fast learner and he took a lot of pride in making you feel good. If anything, you were more and more eager to visit him each time, finding yourself getting worked up before you got there, your mind swirling with the things you might do.

And, you still had yet to actually have sex.

To your credit, you’d brought condoms the last few times. Could a plant creature get you pregnant? His body was human and you figured it was better just not to risk it. As of yet though, you hadn’t mentioned that you had them, you hadn’t taken that step, even if you’d done a number of other things.

But more and more it felt like it was going to happen. The tension between the two of you was palpable and it was getting harder and harder to resist. You hoped that he was feeling the same because you were sure you weren’t going to last much longer without it.

You moved into the shade of the greenhouse, enjoying it on one of the rare sunny, hot days you’d had recently. As much as it was nice that it wasn’t raining, the sun was hot and the recent rain made it so very humid, so the shade of the greenhouse was appreciated, even if the humidity wasn’t that much lower it felt more bearable in the shade.

At present, you were really only thinking about Yunho. Most of the time you hung out for a while first. He was your friend, and you enjoyed just spending time with him. But you’d been caught up with things recently and unable to visit so aside from missing him you really needed some sort of release.

You didn’t say anything, making a beeline for Yunho’s tree. He was usually there when he wasn’t waiting for you and even though it was dark and creeped you out a little you moved quickly. You knew the twigs snapping were under your own feet but still, anytime you passed the water you thought it looked disturbed.

The greenery grew denser and you pushed through the leaves, keeping your nerves under control and praying you knew where you were going. You would be fine, you were sure of it. It got to your head a little but you were sure you recognised some of the planets, even in the thick.

You kept your arms close to yourself as you moved, too unnerved to hum to yourself but just as unnerved by the quiet and the sound of your own movement.

Yunho’s voice broke through the quiet and you jumped, turning towards it before running through the plants and trees towards the sound. You broke through the last few leaves and crashed right into his chest, his arms catching you before you fell.

“Whoa are you okay?” he chuckled.

“It’s creepy in there,” you muttered as he ushered you towards his tree. “I don’t like how the water is always moving like something was just there.”

Yunho stiffened a little, like he always did when you mentioned the water. “I told you, there are fish in the pond.”

“And I told you that fish don’t make the water move like that,” you said, settling in the soft moss. “I’m still not buying that.”

Yunho didn’t answer, sitting next to you quietly. You knew something was up with the water, but he wouldn’t tell you what. It made you wonder what else was in this greenhouse. What secrets could there be with workers in here during the day? Then again they didn’t know about Yunho for the most part either so maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe there were lots of things you didn’t know about the greenhouse.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me,” you said. Playing with one of his vines that he’d laid over your lap. “But I hope you know you can trust me.”

“I do,” he mumbled. “It’s just… not exactly simple.”

That was more than you’d gotten to date, so you’d take it. You shifted closer to Yunho, resting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you nuzzled his cheek into your hair.

“Did you wanna watch more videos?” His voice sounded hopeful.

Usually, you didn’t jump into anything right away. You’d learned that Yunho didn’t have a phone and you guessed that made some kind of sense but you’d taken it upon yourself to introduce him a lot more to the outside world. The few people who knew about him had told him some things but it was clear he was eager to know more about the world and people and particularly pop culture.

You bit down on your lip. You were still pretty worked up like you had been when you’d gotten there, but the creepiness of the forest had thrown you off. Going through on your own had made you feel a little uneasy though now, being with Yunho, you felt more comforted for sure.

“D-Did you w-want-?” Yunho caught on much more quickly these days to what you were thinking, and it always amused you that he still got so flustered at the outset.

“I mean that’s what I was thinking…”

“What you were thinking?” he asked.

You shifted a little, trying to subtly hide in his shoulder as you felt heat rise to the surface of your skin. Despite your efforts Yunho started chuckling and you knew he’d put two and two together.

“Did the plants really scare you that badly, sweetheart?”

You felt your heart skip at the pet name. Yunho knew it only made you more flustered but you couldn’t deny that you liked when he called you that, even if he liked to use it to tease you.

“It’s freaky being in there all alone,” you whined, fully hiding your face in his shoulder.

“I promise there is nothing in this greenhouse that will hurt you,” he said, though the light chuckle in his voice wasn’t the warm, endearing tone you wanted to hear.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled.

“Do I need to come with you every time?” he cooed teasingly.

“No,” the word came out much more like a whine than you wanted it to and Yunho laughed, the vines close to both of you ruffling and shifting as he did so.

“You’re so mean,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “I liked it better when you were shy and didn’t tease me.”

Yunho pressed a kiss to your jaw. “You and I both know that isn’t true sweetheart.”

You pushed him playfully and tried to stand up, only for him to wrap you up in his arms and a series of vines and pull you onto his lap.

“No wait! I’m sorry I’ll be nice! I promise,” he laughed, snuggling you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said. You heard Yunho breath in to say something else but you beat him to it. “It makes up for how annoying you are.”

“Hey,” he whined, pushing you off his lap as you chuckled. “Maybe I’ll just kick you out and you can find your way out on your own.”

You knew he wasn’t serious. Or, you hoped he wasn’t.

You glanced outside quickly, into the greenhouse. Maybe it had clouded over again or maybe it was just getting dark but it had surely started to get darker since you’d arrived and the thought of making it out on your own really did freak you out.

“You’re really scared of going through the greenhouse alone?” Yunho had caught your expression and his tone was much more sincere this time.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “It’s fine when I’m with you, but when I’m alone…”

“Do… Do I make you feel safe?” he asked.

You turned your gaze to meet his. “Yeah, of course you do.”

Colour rose in his cheeks as a smile tugged his lips and it softened you a bit. He was clearly proud that you felt comfortable around him. You knew he was still a little worried about being scary himself, you couldn’t deny that being around him brought a smile to your face and made you feel more comforted.

“I-I’m glad,” he stammered.

“Aww, now who’s flustered?” you teased, poking his cheek, though the fondness in your voice was all too obvious.

“Hey, don’t tease me,” he giggled, his hands grabbing your hips as he moved in front of you.

“But it’s so much fun,” you giggled, bringing your arms up around his neck.

“I would offer not to tease you in return,” his voice was getting more quiet, dropping to a smooth hum. “But I don’t think I could manage.”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to deal with it then,” you murmured, pulling him closer. 

“I guess I will.”

Yunho closed the small space left between you, pressing his lips to yours. A few of his vines wrapped around you and pulled you gently against his body before he gently pushed you back into the soft moss. His kisses were sweet and comforting and it warmed your heart and made you press even closer to him, wanting to savour the contact.

Yunho gently pressed his way between your legs before laying on top of you. You welcomed the feeling of his warmth and weight, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you against him as he started to rock his into yours. A soft sigh left his lips amid deep kisses and your fingers started to tangle into his brightly coloured hair.

Small vines slowly wrapped themselves around your body. Thin tendrils curling gently around your wrists and arms, slipping under your shirt and along your legs. You smiled into your kisses with him, loving the contact, the way it seemed so absentminded for him. He just wanted to be closer to you and it gave him even the tiniest bit of extra contact.

You brought your legs around him, digging your heels into his lower back and urging him to grind down into your harder. You could feel him growing hard already from the friction, his motions and kisses, tongue moving into your mouth, growing your own arousal. You felt the rushes down your spine and all you could do was hold him closer in a quiet plea for more.

As if he’d read your mind, Yunho moved his lips along your jaw and then onto your neck. You lifted your chest as his fingers started to push up the hem of your shirt. Sighs left your lips as his found the skin of your chest after discarding your shirt. You arched up into the sensation as he kissed down to your breasts, taking the opportunity to undo your bra with his vines and pull away the garment.

Quiet curses fell from your lips and your eyes fluttered closed as Yunho wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking gently. Your hands tangled into his hair again, massaging his head slowly and earning a low groan from him, his hand gripping your hip a little more tightly as the other came up to play with your free nipple.

“That feels so good,” your voice had already grown breathy from the attention he gave you, from how worked up you had gotten.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he hummed teasingly, kissing across the valley between your breasts. You felt heat rise in your face and you let out a whine at his teasing, eliciting a chuckle from him before he sucked your nipple between his lips, passing his tongue over it quickly. Your embarrassment faded slowly, giving way to more pleasure as he ground against you a little harder and tugged gently on your nipple with his fingers.

Slowly, more whimpers left your lips and you finally gazed down at him hazily with a silent plea in your pout. You cared less and less about the slight smugness in his expression as his gaze met yours, just hoping he would catch your meaning without your foggy brain having to find the words to say it.

“Do you want more, sweetheart?” He sounded so much more smug than he looked.

“D-Don’t get cocky,” the breathiness of your voice and how you stumbled over your words didn’t help your case at all and only drew a smirk across his face.

“I don’t know if you have much ground to stand on,” he purred, his fingers finding the waist of your shorts, fiddling with the buttons. “You sound pretty desperate.”

You let out a whine, your head falling back as you refused to look at him, earning another chuckle. Still, you lifted your hips and let him pull off your shorts and panties. You heard the sound of more fabric shifting and peeking at Yunho. Colour rose in his cheeks as he caught the look in your eye, the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth, as your eyes took in the sight of his chest.

A nervous smile tugged at his lips as he dipped down, pressing your legs open and settling between them. Much of his cockiness began to melt away as he started to press kisses to your inner thighs, moving closer to your heat. You could sense his excitement as he gripped your thighs more firmly and groaned as he took in the sight of your glistening core.

Yunho let out a moan as his tongue dragged through your folds, gathering the taste of your arousal. Your fingers tangled into your hair as you rolled your hips against his face, letting out a moan. Vines wrapped around your wrists and you gasped as they were pulled above your head, keeping them held to the soft moss below. Yunho gazed up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as a larger vine wrapped over your hips, holding them down as his tongue started to drag over your clit.

“Oh fuck,” your voice was breathy but you cared less and less with each lap of his tongue. The large vine over your hips held them down as you tried the roll against him and his hands kept your thighs apart as he dragged his tongue through your folds and flattened it to pass over your clit.

Sparks of pleasure ignited within you, burning brighter and brighter with each movement. Arousal rushed though you and coiled within you, working you up slowly as he ate out, hands kneaded at your thighs slowly. A gasp passed your lips and you hips tried uselessly to buck up as his tongue dipped inside you and the groan he let out at your taste sent vibrations through your heat.

“F-Fuck that’s so good.” You were sure you felt Yunho smirk against your core but you didn’t care much about his slight cockiness now. Your hands curled into fists as you pulled at the vines around your wrists and arched off the ground as his tongue pushed further inside of you. He curled it into you, drawing gasps from your lips until he pulled away.

Your whine barely left your lips before you felt two fingers slowly sink into your heat. A moan cascaded from you and your thighs trembled as he slowly curled his fingers into your sweet spot. He knew your body far too well already and his movements had you bucking as much as you could and trying desperately to follow his fingers.

“Is that want you wanted?” Yunho murmured, though his voice was more sincere than you expected and it made your heart melt.

“M-More,” you let the word fall off your lips, slipping more and more into neediness.

“How much more?”

You knew what he was actually asking, the hope in his voice was enough to tell you. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, though whines still passed through. You felt heat rising to the surface of your skin while the words stayed stuck to your tongue, your nerves getting the better of you.

Yunho’s fingers slowed before he pushed a third in slowly, drawing a loud moan from your lips. He flattened his tongue over your clit again as he moved his fingers a little faster. Pants chased the moans off your lips as you tried desperately to move your hips and take his fingers deeper. 

Yunho wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it gently and your head fell back. Pleasure curled through you and tightened in your core as you took in the sensations of his fingers and his lips. You pulled and rolled your wrists and arched your back, moving as much as the binds would allow, toes curling and yet knowing what you really wanted.

“Y-Yunho,” your voice was unstable but it caught his attention. He hummed against you, sending delicious vibrations through your body. You tugged on his vine with your hand and he let out a groan, his head lifting and his gaze finally meeting yours, much more heated than you expected and it had you clenching around his now slowly moving fingers.

“Yunho, I-I want more,” you managed to say. His expression shifted to confusion before realization dawned on his face and a blush crept up his cheeks.

“O-Oh, you mean-”

“Yeah, I do,” his voice was as breathy as yours was. He pulled his fingers from your heat and you watched, biting your lip as he closed his eyes and sucked them into his mouth. His vines slowly moved off of your body and you sat up enough to grab your shorts and find the condoms in your pocket.

Even though Yunho knew what you meant his face turned a deeper shade of red as he regarded the condoms in your hand. A nervous smile tugged at his lips as he fiddled with the buttons on his shorts shakily. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you watched him excitedly get rid of them. 

You sat up more and pushed him back to sit in the soft moss. Your lips found his in a heated kiss as you opened the condom packet and slowly rolled it onto him. His hands gripped your hips and vines wrapped around your thighs, urging you closer excitedly. You smiled and chuckled against his lips before moving yourself over his cock.

Moans left both of your lips as you sunk down on him. His grip tightened on your hips and the vines wrapped around you squeezing you slightly. Your forehead fell against his as you both panted, your hands finding his shoulders for support as you both adjusted to the sensation.

“Th-This feels good,” he murmured quietly, any sense of bravado gone.

“I haven’t even moved yet,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss, not letting you move back and keeping your lips locked with his. You shifted your hips just a little, both of you whining at the feeling as pleasure shot through you. The hold of his vines on you tightened. 

“C-Can you-?” his voice was hopeful as he squeezed your hips.

“Definitely,” you murmured. You rolled your hips down slowly, taking him fully and gasping at the pleasure that washed over you. More of Yunho’s vines wrapped around your body in an instant. Your hazy gaze caught sight of a nearby flower opening petal by petal as he let out a moan.

Curses left his lips as you set a steady pace, trying not to overwhelm him but desperate for more at the same time. After being so close to your own orgasm, going so slow was torture, edging yourself slowly on his cock.

But then again, the look on his face was worth it. Yunho had broken away from his sloppy kisses and now his head hung back, his mouth open in a series of moans, lips swollen from kisses. His face was flushed pink as he panted and his eyes were closed as he soaked in the ecstasy, cursing each time you clenched around him.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, trying not to let the desperate whines out as you gripped his shoulders more tightly. Your hips moved just a little bit faster but your frustration was growing quickly and you found Yunho’s name slipping past your lips without your permission.

Yunho caught you in his heated gaze and his look alone had you clenching around him. His hips bucked up into you and you let out a loud moan as your head fell back, savouring the delicious sensation that you needed more of.

“Y-Yunho, I need to go faster,” your voice was breathy and strained. More colour crept up Yunho’s cheeks and he smiled nervously, giving you a nod and a squeeze of your hips. He bit down on his lip as you braced yourself on his shoulders and rose up before coming back down on his cock.

Both of you let out moans at the feeling. A rush of pleasure washed through you and you couldn’t help yourself as you set a quick pace, chasing your high that had been so close for so long. Curses fell from Yunho’s lips as you moved on his cock, keeping your hips going as quickly as you could.

You ignored the way your thighs started to burn as you rode him, too preoccupied with the sensation of his cock moving into you and his vines wrapping around you tightly. The coil in your core curled tight as you hung on your edge, nails digging into Yunho’s skin and moans falling off your lips as you started to clench around him.

Yunho’s hips bucked up into you roughly and you cried out as you came hard. Your thighs shook as you fell against his chest, desperately grinding your hips down into him and riding him through your orgasm as it crashed over you body and filled you with utter bliss. Yunho’s moans and his tight grip on you only tightened and made your orgasm last just that much longer.

He held you against his chest as he fell back into the moss before flipping you over and caging you underneath him. You let out a yelp as vines wrapped around your wrists and pulled them quickly above your head again, this time wrapping up your arms and delicate tendrils curling around your fingers.

“I need to feel that again,” Yunho’s voice had fallen much lower and his words alone had you clenching around him as you whimpered. A smirk tugged at his lips at your reactions but he didn’t say anything else as he pulled back his hips and thrust into you.

His thrusts were sloppy and a little uneven but they were deep and each one sent a rush of pleasure through your body from your oversensitive core. Your back arched up with each one and you let out a series of moans that climbed higher in your voice each time he hit a particularly good spot deep inside you.

Yunho let low groans and moans cascade from his lips, cursing each time you clenched around him and picking up his pace bit by bit as he started to fall into a rhythm. He learned quickly, repeating the movements that made you moan the loudest as if trying to make you cry out for him again.

Your thighs shook and squeezed around him as he shifted, hitting a spot that almost had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled back and broken moans fell from your lips and Yunho let his fall to your neck, kissing you feverishly and sucking at your skin as his hips moved into you quickly, chasing his own high.

Your name started to slip off his lips, pressed to your skin and curling into your ears making you clench around him as he got closer and closer. His moans like a mantra, punctuated by curses as he thrust into you deeply, need overtaking both of you as your bodies moved together, your second orgasm fast approaching.

Pleasure curled inside you, coiling tightly in your core as your hips moved with Yunho’s, your back arching off the soft moss and your arms pulling and squirming in their binds. Your voice matched Yunho’s moaning his name.

“Please, please, Yunho please,” the words fell off your lips as Yunho’s moans met your ears, both of you pleaded with the other to cum, so close to your releases. Yunho’s hips snapped a little harder and you bucked up to meet his movements.

A cry left your lips as you came hard on his cock. Pleasure washed through every one of your senses, sucking you under into an ocean of bliss as stars burst behind you eyes. Yunho’s hips stuttered to a stop as he came, throbbing inside you slowly as his face nuzzled into your neck.

Yunho started to press kisses to your skin as you both panted, coming down from your highs. The vines slowly released your body and he pulled out of you slowly. You found your shaking arms reaching for him as he got rid of the condom and grabbed a pair of boxers. He passed you your panties and one of his shirts and helped you into them before pulling you onto his chest to cuddle.

His fingers played with your hair as you listened to his heartbeat.

“W-Was it okay?” The sincerity in his voice was endearing.

“It was wonderful,” you murmured, snuggling against him and breathing in his post orgasm scent.

“Are you tired?” he chuckled.

You pouted and nodded. “Can I take a nap?”

“Of course,” he murmured. He slipped his hand under the shirt and traced shapes gently on your back as you started to drift off. Somewhere in the distance you heard music, something like a flute. 

Your breathing slowed as you relaxed against him, letting the slowly growing music wrap around your senses, entwining with Yunho as it lulled you. It was so comforting and inviting, drawing you in deeper and deeper. Lulling you to sleep.

But something in the pit of your stomach felt uneasy. Something told you to fight the calming affect and you stirred, brow furrowing and face burying into his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Yunho asked, voice laced with concern.

“Wh- Where is th- that- W-Where is it coming from…” your voice was slow and slurring as you tried to speak through the fog. Yunho made a strange sound, like speech but nothing you’d ever heard before, and the music stopped immediately.

The fog cleared quickly and you pushed yourself up on his chest. You caught his gaze, nervously focused on the water and you whipped your head around to look at it. It was disturbed as if something had just been there and you felt your heart drop as you clung to him.

“Yunho, what’s going on?!”

“I-It’s n-”

“Don’t say it’s nothing!” Yunho looked stunned as you turned back to him quickly, tears welling in your eyes. “What is that? Why do I keep hearing music? It’s freaking me out, what else is in here?”

Yunho looked past you again before meeting your gaze, his full of anxiety. “I-I- can’t-”

“Yunho!” you cried. “I’m really freaking out!  Please!”

“I-I-” Yunho gazed towards the water again, making the strange noises. You moved behind him as he sat up, peering over his shoulder as the water rippled and bubbled. A whimper left your throat as a  hand slid out of the water and placed itself on the moss.

A head broke through the surface of the water. His hair was silvery blonde and his gaze piercing as he peeked out of the small pool, his other hand coming out of the water as well. His skin seemed pearlescent, almost glowing in the warm light and he regarded you silently, the bottom half of his face still hidden underwater.

“Th-This is Yeosang,” Yunho said. “H-He lives here too.”

Yeosang moved a little higher, saying something in what you now assumed was his language before meeting your gaze.

“I am sorry I scared you,” his tone was apologetic, even through an accent you’d never heard before. “The music… can help with sleep.”

You couldn’t seem to find any words other than “what are you?”

Yeosang looked at Yunho nervously. 

“He’s a-a- I think you call it a nymph?” Yunho said. Yeosang muttered “nymph,” as if trying to remember the word. “He won’t hurt you. I- I’m sorry you couldn’t meet until now. He tends to be really shy around people.”

Perhaps true to form as you shifted around Yunho, Yeosang dipped lower in the water instinctively, before coming back up. He seemed to think for a moment before reaching out a hand nervously towards you. You looked at Yunho and took in his encouraging smile before crawling forwards and taking his hand.

You gasped as a rush ran through you, like being doused in water, yet you were still dry. A feeling of calm took over your senses and Yeosang smiled nervously.

“I hope… I hope we can be friends?” he said, the end lifting like a question.

“I think we can,” you breathed.

[dzamie-oc]

03 - Steampunk

I’ll admit, this is a bit reductionist for a punk story, but gimme a break, I wrote this in only a few hours :P

Length: 2200 words Rating: T (mild description of blood and death) Summary: A factory worker makes a dragon. They grow up together and eventually enact a little bit of class warfare and a little bit of revenge.

-----

Finn’s desk was half covered in a pile of assorted junk - gears, pipes,twisted bits of scrap metal, keys for long-dead springs, and so much more, almost all tarnished, covered in coal soot, or both. However, his attention was focused on the other half, a carefully cleared space with only a few mechanical pieces strewn about, all polished to perfection. Most importantly, in the middle, sat a small, mechanical device of his own creation. Its body was unfinished, exposing much of its inner workings to the naked eye - and the elements, if he let it get that far. A head like a mix of a lizard and a dog, a long, flexible neck, a body that one might mistake for a large, metallic rat’s, and a slender tail which ended in a thin, metal cone. The young teen, with a degree of care unusual to someone with such a rat’s nest of hair, delicately positioned his creation to lay on its back, curled its legs in, and gently inserted a brass key into a particular, well-shaped hole in its chest. Once, twice... three times he turned, for luck.

Through the background din of machinery, he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps and froze. Reflexively, his free hand flew to the ignored pile of scraps, then slowly dragged one over, taking just long enough for him to listen to the footsteps pass by and once more out of earshot. Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, furtively glanced left and right, just in case, and removed the wound key.

Gears and wheels began to spin with a soft whirr, and a look of wonderment spread across Finn’s face as the mechanical legs twitched, then cycled in the air. Its head lifted, letting him stare into its dark eyes, no longer as lifeless as they’d always seemed to be.

“Hey, little guy,” the boy said, “welcome to the world. I’m Finn. I almost hate to dump this on you, but... look, in case I can’t, keep wound, and keep hidden. I wish I could show everyone how cool you clearly are, but-”

Suddenly, more footsteps. Footsteps he recognized, and recognized well. Finn hissed an apology to the dragon and quickly covered it with the nearby metal bowl he’d kept its parts in, then grabbed a part from the pile and set about rubbing it with a rag nearly as filthy as the part. A valve, he realized after his first pass of rubbing - after so many years, his hands knew how to move without thinking, or even realizing what was in them. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and Finn scrubbed at the metal. With a sigh, he wondered if he’d just gotten it dirtier. He went to pass it ahead into a bucket of valves, when-

“Finnegan Shine!” came the shrill voice of a woman who thought herself far more cultured than she knew she could even aspire to. “Just what are you doing with that thing?”

Finn’s “good afternoon, Ms. Springwarden” was cut off by her question, so he looked at the metal in his hand. “I’m... putting it with the other valves after cleaning it?”

Ms. Springwarden harrumphed. “Cleaning it! Just what HAS that first-shift supervisor been teaching you?” She looked at the valve - and at Finn - with a sneer. Finn always thought that, if disdain was an Olympic sport, Ms. Springwarden would have enough gold to live somewhere nice and stop tormenting him - although, he had to admit, perhaps she would still torment him for the fun of it. “Why, I can barely tell it apart from that filthy pile!”

The boy put on a puzzled expression. “Really? But I’ve been going at it with my cleanest rag for a solid minute,” he lied. Of all the people in Alma Vera, she was the last person he ever wanted to even consider the existence of his hidden project. Still, he held up three more well-used cloths, to show her that at least part of his claim had been true.

Another harrumph. “And not once did you think that, just maybe, you ought to trade them for washed cleaning equipment?”

“But Ms. Springwarden, I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave my chair during my shift?”

“Foolish child,” the woman replied, and brought her hand towards his forehead, finger primed to flick. At the last second, however, Finn saw a look of disgust, and she withdrew so as not to touch his, charitably, under-washed face. “Rise and follow me. But don’t let me catch you out of your seat without my permission!”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden!” Finn said, and stood. The four dirty rags were exchanged for four clean ones, or at least as clean as would pass at his work. Thus equipped, Finn was returned to his seat - the bowl still overturned, to his relief.

Ms. Springwarden crossed her arms and said, “who knows how many valuable components you’ve ruined with your folly. You do remember our motto, do you not?”

Finn nodded. “Quality and quantity, Ms. Springwarden.”

The woman harrumphed yet again, and picked up two of the buckets he had sorted parts into, and dumped them into the assorted pile. “Well, let us now remedy your mistake. You will have to clean each of these now befouled pieces once again, and be quick about it!” She glared at him. “Your work ends when your pile is gone, and not a second, nor a part, sooner.”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden.”

Finn returned to his task, and after a few seconds, he heard one last derisive snort, and then footsteps trailing away. The boy dramatically picked up his pace once she was gone, and before long, he had undone the damage to his progress she had inflicted on him. Another look left and right, and he placed his hands on the bowl, praying that the dragon truly was still there.

“Hey, it’s me,” he whispered, so the dragon wouldn’t try to hide. When he revealed the metallic creature, it had its forepaw in its chest, twisting the mechanism inside. Once finished, it looked up at him and swished its tail, accompanied by the soft, metallic whirring of gears. “That was Ms. Springwarden. They say that, somewhere out there, at least three people are unable to make that ‘hmph’ sound, because she’s using all of theirs.” The dragon leaned its head down, opened its jaws, and picked up a twisted bit of scrap metal, then shook it around a bit, which got a chuckle out of Finn. “It’s too bad you’re not as big as the dragons I’ve heard the people who live on airships have. You could just eat her, then. Although, I wouldn’t have been able to hide you while I built you.”

The clockwork creature flicked its head and sent the scrap flying through the air, to land in the discard bucket. “Fast learner,” Finn remarked. “So, you need a name. I think... Eve.” He paused. “It’s not weird to name you after an elementary school crush, is it?”

Eve responded by tossing another bit of scrap into the bucket, then wiping her mouth on his hand.

-----

Finn prowled through the dense pipework of the underground, eyes peeled for the rats he was supposed to exterminate. In one hand, he held a bag full of rodent corpses - his proof for payment. The other hand gripped what might charitably be called a tiny harpoon launcher. It looked similar to a certain toy gun, popular among the children of wealthy families, and that was no accident - although he would have the kid he stole it from think otherwise. With a bit of tinkering, a wire to save on ammunition, and a much better spring, Finn considered himself the second best at this sort of job, something that led people to avoid asking too much about the improvised tool.

A squeak cut short, then rapid metal-on-metal clanking heralded the arrival of the first best at this sort of job. Eve trotted up to him, two dead rats in her mechanical jaws. Over the past five years or so, Finn had found or fashioned bigger replacement parts for his dragon until she stood nearly at his waist. Long since unable to hide her under a bowl, of course, the story now was that she was a defective mechanical dog he had scored for a pittance. Regardless, Eve stood attentively next to him, waiting for him to open the bag for her. When he did, one rat fell into the pile of its brethren, and as for the other...

Eve tossed and flicked her head until the rodent’s body aligned with her jaws. A new whirring noise kicked in as sets of wheels dragged it down her metal throat, and then a sickening grinding sound bounced around the pipes and fixtures. The dragon opened her mouth again and wiped it on his pants leg, to his mild dismay.

“You’re gonna have to drop that habit, or I’ll put you back on winding-only.”

Eve went still for a few seconds, but the gentle whirring of her insides picked up. When she moved again, she brought one upturned forepaw in front of the other, then cycled them around each other, and finally tapped her throat.

“Break a habit for a voice?” Finn asked. “Eve, voices are hard to come by. You know I would’ve gotten you one by now if I could.”

The sound of a much smaller creature skittering along the metal ground caught both of their attentions. Finn spun, aimed, and pulled the trigger, and a barbed, pointed pole flew from the tip of his weapon, with metal wire following shortly after. The rat screamed a squeaky scream, then fell quiet, and Finn reeled in his shot and prize.

Eve pressed her paw against his leg for his attention. She pointed her muzzle at the gun, then curled back at her own chest, and then she once again tapped her paw to her neck with an insistent clank-clank-clank. Finn furrowed his brow. “I’m pretty sure voice boxes are in a league of their own...” he started, then smiled broadly at her. “Then again, so am I. Mind giving up more than half your rats from now on, so we can go shopping for anything we can’t find?”

The dragon’s metal plating rattled against itself as she wiggled in anticipation, then bounded off to massacre more vermin.

-----

It was a glorious ceremony. Everyone sported their most elaborate suits and dresses, all in a modest brown. Some of the more adventurous gentlemen had constantly-turning gears on the hats they politely kept in their laps, but no longer were they nor their headwear the center of attention. Ms. Springwarden, soon to lose that name, stood in a beautiful, ornate, white dress, and stared adoringly at the man standing in front of her, who-

BOOM!

A shout rose up from the crowd as what used to be a wall was replaced by a hole and a dragon. The elaborate mechanical creature’s outer plating was a mismatch of bronze, iron, and steel, as though it had been dressed in a junkyard. And perched on its back was a man with a daring grin, who Ms. Springwarden found strangely familiar...

“Well! Ms. Springwarden, aren’t you moving up! The big boss himself, I wonder if you’ll outlast  his last four wives!” Finn shouted as he dismounted the dragon, landing with a roll and ending up right next to the bride-to-be.

Without opening her mouth, Eve spoke. “I am confident he will be her husband for the rest of his life,” she said. Her voice was unnatural, amateurish, and it sounded like it belonged in some sterile, form-over-function research lab, rather than a well-tuned dragon. Before anyone could react, she opened her jaws and snapped up the stunned man, soon feeding him to the wheels hidden behind her neck plating.

“Aw! Eve! I had planned this whole quip about how his factories have a great quantity of people and I’m about to increase the average quality!”

“So lie in your memoir.”

Many of the guests had fled the scene, with only a few hiding behind the benches, and Ms. Springwarden herself remained frozen to the spot. “Wh- who...?”

Finn swept into a deep bow, mockingly low. “Finnegan Shine, Ms. Springwarden. My friends call me Finn, but of course you never did. You may not remember me, and I sorely wish I could say the same. But now then...” He stepped backwards towards Eve, who lowered her head and opened her jaws. Finn leaned against her neck, feeling the whirr of the wheels making up her throat thrumming through her metal body. “They say marriage is for better or worse, right? What say you join your hubby in the ‘worse?’”

Eve’s distorted voice joined in once more, saying, “I remember you. That he is offering you a refusal is far more than I would have.”

The woman - having found a worse fate than being left at the altar - took a step back, shaking her head. “No... no. Please, no.”

To everyone’s surprise, the dragon snapped her mouth shut with a loud crash of metal, and Finn clambered back up onto her back. “Then it’s a damn lucky thing I’m not you, miss,” the man said, before the pair of them escaped through the dragon-sized hole in the wall.

Finn hugged Eve’s neck tight. One down, an unfortunate number to go. He just hoped his friends were having as much fun as he was.

[blissfulalchemist]

A Chance for Faith Ch. 9 What’s Your Name Agian?

Alrighty here’s some Chance for you all! Fairly short of a chapter really but its something and what more can be asked of my brain. Can be read below the cut or on Ao3

There’s a moment, a small moment where the grogginess meets the chill of the night air, and for just that moment Chance is hopeful. What a terrible dream, he thinks, how much did he end up drinking that night to warrant that kind of punishment. He probably hot boxed with some buddies as they left a bar to have an after party somewhere else. Last time I get cross-faded for a while. He just needed to open his eyes, maybe he’d find himself on the front lawn again. He could find that everything that had happened was nothing more than a dream he’s more than willing to forget. 

But it's only for a moment.

His brain speeds up, processing quickly what’s happening. This wasn’t a dream, this was real, and he had the aching pain in his thigh to prove it. A pinch in his wrists as he moved to try and stand back up, the voices deep over him. “This one?” One asks, his face too blurry, not that it would make much difference it's too dark to make out any significant features. There must have been some response he didn’t pay attention to as the man comes closer, Chance just slightly able to make out the matted pieces in his scraggly dark hair, “You sure? Don’t seem very worthy.”

Chance groans as the man bends down to grab his upper arms, “Pretty sure that’s cultural appropriation.”

“Wha’?” 

“Your hair,” Chance repeated, his vision becoming blurry, “Jus’ thought you should know.”

“You sure we have to take him to the cleansing?”

This time Chance could hear the second voice, “It's the will of the Father, “deeper, more calming, almost like Jerome’s, “and we are not to question him.” While unsteady Chance could feel his legs beneath him in an upright position, hands gripping him tightly, “Come let’s bring him unto the waters.”

He blinked, that’s all he did, right? No, he passed out and now he was wet. Or well his mouth and nose were starting to get that way. Air was harder to achieve too. An instant and he was struggling, he couldn’t swim, he was held down. Eyes burning trying to open them in the water, muffled voices just beyond the splashing. Just as quickly he was lifted out of the water, gasping his heart finally catching up to the panicking in the water. 

“And we will walk through his gate unto Eden.” If he wasn’t catching his breath Chance would have rolled his eyes, John, of course it was John. He glanced around as the other members repeated the last line, four others each with a member, and a few more on the shore of the lake, Pond, Chance, pond. Chance brought his left hand up, the other following close behind, Cuffs really?, pushing what hair he could out of his face. 

Chance stumbled as he was pushed back towards the shore, last in line as the other four, all seeming to be in various states of high with the Bliss, only paused to be anointed with a cross on their foreheads by John. He had just finished with the last one, the blessing whispered as his blue eyes slowly moved over to face Chance. As he became within ear shot he smirked holding up his hands, “Should have guessed you were kinky Sunglasses. Not sure I’m down with that drowning fetish of yours.”

John’s jaw tightened, blue eyes narrowing, “You really believe yourself to be clever don’t you?”

Chance laughed, “You’re not denying anything.”

“I don’t have time for your games tonight,” he leaned closer, voice lowering, “Deputy.”

Chance gritted his teeth bitting back the automatic correction of his name, “Aww, but it’s Thursday, Fashion Week, that’s our special game night.”

“You stole something from me,” This was about the plane?! Seriously, “and I intend to get it back.”

“Hm, gotta be a little more specific.”

“Small, valuable, and very important to me.”

“Your dignity?” Chance’s smirk grew, pointedly looking John up and down before shrugging, rolling his eyes, “Sorry wasn’t me. Can’t steal something you don’t have.”

He honestly didn’t think John could move that fast, or be that strong. If it wasn’t easy the first time to fight back, John made it harder as Chance found himself on his back, the rocks hitting pressure points, and a tattooed hand wrapped around his throat. A mouthful of the water went down his throat and another stayed in place and he felt himself be lifted to the surface once more. He was forced back into a standing position, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” John ordered through clenched teeth, face inches from Chance’s. 

Chance gave a quick smirk spitting out the held water dead center of John’s face. He laughed at the brief look of surprise on the Baptist’s face, “Oh there’s that signature flirting of yours,” Chance leaned closer, hands tightening on his upper arms, “That how you charmed that wife of yours?”

John’s hand closest to Chance’s neck gripped tightly, nails digging in, snarling as he moved to push Chance back into the water. Chance took a deep breath readying himself, “John,” one word and he hovered above the water, John’s face shifting from his anger to one of a younger man, child-like, caught in the middle of something he shouldn’t have been doing. Chance was lifted, blowing away some of the hair from his vision. There on the shore stood Joseph, dressed in a white button down shirt and dark vest, rosary wrapped around his left hand still, his yellow glasses still on despite the night sky, God do those ever come off?. “Do you mock the cleansing?”

John has yet to turn to face him fully, head lowered, “No, Joseph.”

Chance gave a snort mumbling, “I sure fucking do.” John’s eyes moved fixating on Chance, the emotion in them darkening, teeth grinding. 

“Come,” Joseph waved to the member keeping hold of Chance, “bring that one to me.”

Again he was pushed forward, stumbling over the smooth rocks below, “I can walk you know,” he hissed trying to shake free from the member’s grip. 

Joseph placed his hands on Chance’s shoulders, his stomach turning. John came into his peripheral view, back straight, his face neutral, eyes the only thing giving away any semblance of emotions. Joseph’s gaze moved to John, “You have to love them, John,” Chance raised a brow, frowning, seeing the flicker of pain in John’s eyes, Condescending much. Bit hypocritical too. 

“I’ll always be the exception,” Chance scoffed, “No amount Drama King’s love will change that. Or yours Man Bun.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed just the slightest as they bored into Chance. “Despite all that you have done,” Joseph’s voice, ever so calm, still managed to send chills down his spine, “you are not beyond salvation. You’ve been given a gift.”

“Well I hope you have the receipt still,” he snarled, “cause I don’t want your fucking salvation.” Chance hissed in pain, knife point near his kidney. He glanced over to his right, John had moved closer, left arm outstretched, Dude, I don’t owe your brother any respect.

His remarks were ignored, “You’re not here by accident or by choice,” Chance opened his mouth to protest, stopped by the knife digging in a little deeper, “You are here by the grace of God. Everything you are, everything you’ve experienced has led you to this moment….To your destiny.”

Chance pushed forward, hands holding him back. Joseph stepped back as the young deputy spit in his face, “Fuck your destiny!” He snarled shaking off the hands, placing himself inches from Joseph, voice lowering, “That line may work on your followers, but I know better. I know what you’ve done to get your damn bullshit prophecy brought to life.”

Chance glowered willing Joseph to move, to get angry, to lift the curtain on his calm leader persona. He didn’t, simply turning to John as he wiped away at his face, “This one will reach atonement.” He pulled his brother closer, touching their foreheads together, whispering, “or the gates of Eden shall be shut to you, John.” The volume may have been soft, evocative of guidance but Chance could hear it. The threat, hidden within the disappointment Joseph had put on for his younger brother.

“Yes, Joseph,” he whispered, head hanging lower, Chance looking between the two of them, Where’s the backbone you have for everyone else, Sunglasses?. His older brother turned making his way back towards the trucks, John and Chance watching as he moved farther from earshot. The moment he did, John’s face overtook Chance’s vision, “You will confess, no matter how long it takes.” John directed his men to place Chance into a van, placing his cuffs around a bar on the ceiling. He still tried to land a kick on one of the members as they did so, the butt of a gun meeting his diaphragm knocking the breath out of him briefly. 

The doors shut, leaving the young man alone in the van with the muffled engines of other vehicles driving away. “Either you’re dead or,” Chance whispered, “something much worse is going to happen.”

The driver’s door opened, a balding man sliding in, his stature feeling familiar, “Bring him to the room I have prepared at the bunker,” John instructed, the man nodding along. “Don’t leave his side once there, Mr. Powell.”

“I know John,” the driver snapped, Chance’s eyes going wide, It’s the guy from the Ranch, “You need to go before it gets too suspicious.” A moment of silence fell before the van started moving, radio turned down low. Chance caught the man’s eyes in the rearview, Powell, what’s your role in all of this?, he moved closer, the metal scraping against one another, “Stay put.”

“Not like anyone can see me back here,” Chance huffed finally bringing himself to the front of the van, “Besides I’d rather not yell to talk to you.” Powell stayed silent, “Let’s start with names; I’m Chance.”

“I know who you are.”

“But I don’t know you. All I know is you’re the guy that helped me get Nick’s plane back to him. So what’s your first name? I know it can’t be Powell.”

“What makes you say that, kid?”

“Cause no parent would hate their child that much to be name them Powell.”

“Your name is basically a pun,” he gave a quick smile, “What does that say about your parents?”

“Dad didn’t pick it out. I’d have been Jason if he did.”

“Probably best he didn’t then.” Chance tilted his head, “I knew your grandfather a little bit, knew he would have just called you JR.”

Chance rolled his eyes, small smile on his lips, Just keep him talking, that’s how they did it in the movies right?, “Point taken. You’re still not answering my question though.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because you’re not on their side. Not really.” Chance scrutinized his face, “Feel like I’ve seen you one other time.”

“I lived here, that’s probably what you’re thinking.”

“No, well probably but I mean when all this cult bs started to get worse,” Chance shook his head, looking ahead to the road retracing events, “The wedding,” he finally breathed out. The member glanced over at Chance, “You were there, you hovered close to John and his new wife.”

“A lot of people were at that wedding.”

He shook his head, “Sure, but no one else acted like you did. You stood between her and Joseph.”

“Part of my job.”

“You didn’t even look my and Whitehorse’s way, just focused on the Father,” Chance looked down to his muddied boots, “She didn’t really want to be there, did she?”

He slowed looking around, “No. She didn’t.” Powell’s eyes looked Chance over, with his hunched shoulders and distant eyes, letting out a sigh, “It’s easy to dwell on the what ifs and what could have been, but you and me? We can’t afford to. Best we can do is keep moving, hoping to do better.” The two approached the intersection with the main road, the member stopping ejecting the tape from the radio. “Speaking of which,” he turned to face Chance, “Better grab onto something.” Chance watched as the man slipped the tape into Chance’s pocket, “Don’t lose that either. Get it to your friend Wheaty.”

“Wait why?” The driver didn’t respond as he pulled out onto the road, with a truck quickly approaching from the left side. “Uh, hey I don’t-.” The impact hurt, no amount of gripping onto the bar prevented Chance from hanging as the van rolled. He could feel the metal cutting away at his skin, on its side, the zero gravity as he brought his knees to his chest, upside down, finally the impact as his body hit the metal siding. 

His vision went black as he oriented himself, the breaking of glass muffled among the groans of the van. Chance groaned hearing the muffled gunfire, blinking a few times to right his vision once again. Escape, that’s what he had to do, he had to escape. He still had a feeling of seeing double as he repositioned himself, bracing his legs on the ceiling of the van pulling on the rod holding the handcuffs hostage. The gunfire grew louder, the rod unmoving, “Oh come on adrenaline!” Chance growled, “Fucking work with me tonight!”

“He’s gettin’ away!” 

“Ah leave him be,” two voices yelled out, “He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough!”

The back door groaned open, slamming against the asphalt, Chance flinched at the sound. Despite the night sky, the low light hurt his eyes and he tried to shield them from it. “Well look at that,” Chance didn’t need to look at the man’s face to place the calming voice, “that tip we got was real.”

He looked up at the bulletproof vest clad pastor, eyebrows raising, “Someone tipped you off that I’d be coming this way?”

“Mhm,” Jerome moved inside the van, a thin piece of metal between his fingers, “Heard you had gotten taken earlier in the day, knew it had to be John. Thing is he’s gotten smarter about changing his baptismal areas, so we didn’t even know where to start.” The older gentleman’s fingers moved deftly along the locks of the cuffs, a small click heard as Chance’s right wrist was freed, “Then got word on the radio from Wheaty saying he saw the caravan moving from the Whitetails back down south.”

Chance stayed silent watching as Jerome worked on the left wrist, No way we were up that far north. We stayed in the valley the whole time. With his left wrist free Chance rubbed some feeling back into them, examining the cuts, “Thanks. For saving me that is. Overheard John having some special plans for me.”

“I bet he did,” the two men crawled their way back out to the small group of others, all letting out a cheer upon seeing Chance. “Like I keep trying to tell ya: it’d be a shame to lose you now, dep- I mean Chance.”

Chance scanned the area, checking his pocket, the cassette tape still in its place. This road didn’t go near the Whitetails, not for a while, and even then it would be on the eastern side of it, And we’re on the west. The windshield laid a foot away from the van, the glass still put together despite the cracks within it, I don’t think there’s enough cracks for it to have been impulsive. Powell, Powell knew something or this was part of John’s plan. Could have been, just the motivation wasn’t there. Wheaty told them that we were coming from the south of the Whitetails….

The tape in his pocket weighed heavily, his head pounding away, and his wrists still throbbing. Sleep might have been the best thing to do first. Jerome was in agreement as they approached Fall’s End, switching to a sedan for the drive to Chance’s house. The young man laid his head back, pulling the lever to lower the seat too, eyes closing. “Hey Jerome,” Chance asked, the pastor humming in response, “You know just about everyone in this county right?”

“Try too, but sometimes people slip by the wayside. Why do you ask?”

“Does the last name Powell mean anything to you?”

“Powell?” Chance gave a small nod, his stomach rolling, “Only know of one Powell and last I heard was one of the first to join Eden’s Gate once they got that compound of their going.”

Chance knitted his brow, “One of the first? That….feels surprising. Are you sure?”

“That’s what’s been said, he is a part of Eden’s Gate though, I know that much. Became one of Jacob’s chosen and then personal guard to John’s wife when she was still around.”

Does no one in this place know she’s still alive? Or do they just not believe it? “Now he’s just John’s personal guard?”

Jerome gave a shrug, “Couldn’t tell ya. I don’t think he likes John much either since Mary. Seemed real protective over her the few times I saw her.”

“You knew her?”

“Sort of,” Jerome glanced over at Chance, “Do I need to pull over?” Chance shook his head, “Alright just tell me if I do. But anyway Mary came by a few times wondering if I’d be willing to help in setting up some charity work she was wanting to do, told her no though. Didn’t hold much trust for them back then either.”

“What’s his name?”

Jerome chuckled, “You planning’ on getting to know all the members this much?”

“Nah,” Chance smirked, “Just the second time I’ve come in close contact with him is all. Feel like it can’t just be a coincidence.”

“What does your instinct say about it?”

That was the hard part, as it said to not trust him while also saying that Powell had his own agenda that could work well in his favor. Then again this was the same instinct that told him it was okay to bring probably the most dangerous of the siblings to his house to care for her. The same one that had him going back to Faith because there was some part of her that was good still in there. His gut instinct was the one that gave the notion that there was something amiss last year at that wedding, but then agreed with Whitehorse when he said there was nothing saying there was anything wrong. His instinct sucked.

The logic of it all though said that it wasn’t coincidence that he had encountered Powell twice. That fact that he let Chance go both times said that he needed him out in the county rather than with John. Powell knew of Wheaty and doubtful that he was just sharing his music tastes with someone on the other side of this. “Best we can do is keep moving, hoping to do better.”, that line meant there were regrets to be had. The facts were that Powell was also one of the first to join up with the cult willingly years ago. Made it high enough in the rankings to be personal protection for John’s wife, She had to have had some trust for him right? Or else how would he know what she was thinking that day?. 

Chance let out a sigh, “Instinct is saying I need more information.” He opened an eye looking up at Jerome, “Which will be easier having his full name, Jerome.”

The pastor chuckled, “His name is Lance. Lance Powell.”

“Lance,” Chance repeated, the name bringing up fuzzy memories, “He had a kid didn’t he?” Jerome hummed in confirmation, Chance clicking his tongue, “Huh, think I saw them once when I was a kid. One of those fishing competitions or barbeques or something like that.”

“Possible,” he pulled up to the quiet cabin, engine shutting off, “You want some help getting settled?”

Chance sat up stretching out his limbs, “Nah, I should be okay. Thanks though.”

“Alright, give a call on the radio if you need anything.” Chance gave a wave listening for the car to start again before turning towards the old cabin. Lance Powell, he mused pulling out the cassette tape, what’s your angle here?, Chance flipped it over. Nothing special about it, even had a label on it, Cowtipping Extravaganza! ‘85, he frowned looking at the name. Well that’s….cryptic. Chance tossed the tape onto the cd player, eyes scanning for the bottle of Tylenol, his head was still pounding and trying to solve a mystery wasn’t much help. 

He located the bottle knocking back four of the pills, reaching for the radio next to it, clearing his throat, “Hey Wheaty, you there?”

There was a moment of silence as Chance laid back on his bed, “Chance? That you?”

“One and only,” he gave a smile, “Hey do you mind comin’ down here in the next few hours?”

“Uh, gotta get that cleared with Eli, you know how he is about that stuff.”

“Yeah no, I know. Look I got a tape here that I was told to get to you.”

“Tape? As in duct tape or cassette tape?”

“Cassette.”

There was a silence, Chance closing his eyes, his breathing evening out. “Alright I’ll be there in the next few hours,” his friend sounded out of breath, “You at your place?”

Chance nodded, yawning, “Yeah. Just walk in when you get here.” If there was a response he didn’t hear it, falling quickly into a dreamless slumber. By the time he awoke again, his friend was nowhere to be found, the tape gone from where Chance had tossed it earlier. Guess you couldn’t stay very long, he glanced up at the clock reading three o’clock in the afternoon, Or I slept longer than I thought. Next time, next time Chance was up with the militia he’d make sure to get the answers he wanted about Lance. In the meantime he heard the local arsonist needed a little assistance and Chance was always down to help an old party buddy.

[hopesbarnes]

Not So Sneaky

Summary: 4 times your brother Bucky almost caught your relationship with Peter. And the 1 time he did. Based on the request: “If requests are open, can you write a peter x reader fic, where reader is either bucky’s daughter, sister, or daughter like figure?” and written for @stuckonjbbarnes​ Angst VS Fluff Challenge. I had the prompt “Shut up! Just…Shut! Up!”

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex, and a little bit of a steamy makeout.

The One With the Weights 

“Who do you think can lift more?” you hear Peter, your boyfriend, say.

“Huh?” you ask pulling the earbud from your ear as you walk on the elliptical machine.

“Who do you think is stronger? I mean I know I’m like spiderman, but you have super-soldier serum. I think I can lift more!” He says smiling knowing your competitive side has to react to any challenge.

You slow down the machine to a stop and hop off giving him your best ‘mean mug’ face and walk to the weights. You move to add what you know you can bench and hope it’s more than Peter. He moves to spot you and you lift the weight effortlessly above your head and smile widely. He looks a little panicked but switches with you to lift the weight.

He lifts the weight above him with little struggle and you just huff and add more weights. It goes a few more rounds until you finally best him and lift more than he can.

“YES! YES! Who’s stronger now huh?” you shout and jump into his arms kissing him. Competitiveness makes you just the slightest bit eager.

“Shut up! Just...Shut! Up! You’re a show-off anyway” he mumbles against your lips, but you can tell he loves having a strong girlfriend. 

“Sure, baby,” you say and push him against the mirror kissing him more. It’s then your super hearing picks up chatter outside the gym and you jump off him and beeline to the elliptical, leaving him next to a weight you know he can’t lift. 

It would probably be easier to explain to your brother, Bucky, that you’re dating Peter. But then he would yell at you, “Y/N you’re 18 you shouldn’t have a boyfriend it’s not proper!” and you just did not want to deal with that. So the two of you hid it instead. 

“Oh Peter, I think that’s too much,” Bucky says entering the gym and they all laugh at Peter and you shrug to him, mouthing a ‘sorry’. 

The One With the Movie Night

In a tower with a solid mix of pop culture nerds and people who missed most of history, there’s a strong need for movie nights. They always went the same, Peter and Tony argued over what movie to watch while Steve, Bucky and you just went along with it. Your brother loved watching movies, and you loved watching movies with Peter. 

The tower still had no clue you were dating the boy, they just all thought you were best friends. Tony knew Peter had a crush on you but, and you quote, “Y/N is way out of your league, she’ll never date you.” Peter just silently laughed at that and went along with it. 

Jurassic Park is starting and you move the blanket over where your legs touch Peter’s to hide the fact you’re holding your boyfriend’s hand. He had soft hands and you loved touching in any aspect. 

Halfway through the movie though your brother tried to steal the blanket.

“C’mon Y/N, I’m cold,” he said and you tugged it back.

“You’re a super soldier you’re not cold. Leave my blanket alone!” you huffed. 

But he pulled it again, and it left you just enough time to let your hand move from Pete’s to your thigh. So much for hand-holding. 

The One With the Ice Cream Shop 

On Peter’s last patrol, he found a 40’s themed ice cream shoppe, where people dressed in period clothes to attend. You had been talking about how much you missed before. You were 14 years old when your brother was taken, and they kidnapped you as well. They injected you with the serum but froze you as the experiment didn’t make you compliant. It wasn’t until Natasha leaked all the hydra documents they found you, still in a cryogenic chamber. One day you were getting ready for junior high, the next people had phones and wore skinny jeans. But that was four years ago, now you were a little more adjusted to the world.

After he told you about the shoppe, you found a dress Bucky had gifted you a year ago in the nostalgic style you grew up in. You dressed as you did when you were younger and met Peter, who dressed in 40’s clothes as well for a cute date at the ice cream parlor. 

“I’m so happy you found this place,” you said taking a final scoop from the ice cream you split with the curly hair boy.

“Is this really what things looked like for you?” he asked marveling at the decor and outfits people wore.

“Yeah! Things sure were a lot cheaper though. And girls were not allowed on unchaperoned dates,” you said resting your head on your hand.

“I like it, lot simpler,” he said and you reached over the table to give him a quick peck. 

You were about to tell him more, but your brother walked in with Steve being tugged behind him.

“Y/N! Peter!” he said and smiled wide. Guess your date was over.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes!” Peter beamed and you wanted to die. 

“I told you a thousand times, just call me Bucky,” Bucky said and Peter shyly nodded. “What are you guys doing here anyway?” 

“Probably the same thing you and Steve are. Well minus the date part. Peter found this place and knew I was a little nostalgic so he took me here,” you explained hoping he would buy it.

“Never did get to take Stevie on a proper date back then, gotta make up for time lost,” he said smiling over to the blonde man in line. 

“Well we were just about done, so see you back at the tower!” you said and tugged Peter out of the shop. 

Guess even ice cream shops weren’t safe for a hidden relationship anymore. 

The One With the Picture  

Peter had a ton of schoolwork and couldn’t make it to the tower for two days, and you were dying. You missed his kisses, and cuddles and were being overly needy today. So you figured you would flush him out, so to speak. 

You decided to tease him and put on your cutest lingerie and take a scandalous picture captioned ‘I miss you:(‘. Even a guy as patient and shy as Peter couldn’t turn that down. You saw the picture change to read but no response. You were upset but pushed it off.

A few hours later Peter came through your window in his suit and looked startled.

“Y/N, I uh well. I got called on a mission last minute and well,” he said looking flustered. 

“Spit it out!” you said getting nervous.

“That was the closest we’ve come to getting caught. But we didn’t!” he said and collapsed on your bed.

“Start from the beginning,” you said and laid next to him. 

“I was out on this last-minute mission with your brother and Nat and then on the quinjet, I got a notification on my phone of your picture. I didn’t know it was that so I opened it and Nat almost saw my phone so I had to close it really fast and switch to a chat with Ned. It was really nerve-wracking and Natasha kept looking at me. So maybe she saw the pic but it didn’t show your face.” 

You sat up immediately. Natasha bought the set with you, there was no doubt she saw. 

“Nat bought the set with me! Crap Pete stay here,” you said and threw on a sleep shirt and shorts and ran to her room. You banged on the door and she opened it and tugged you in. 

“Got something to share,” she said smugly.

“Please don’t tell my brother!” you begged and she looked at you smiling.

“Of course not. You’re an adult, your brother doesn’t need to know what you’re up to. Or I guess who you’re up to.” You practically jumped her to hug her. 

“Thank you, thank you!” you cried.

“I do expect details tomorrow!” she said as you left the room and you shot her a thumbs up.

+ The One With the Burger 

Living with a bunch of other people meant little to no time to yourself. Or more importantly to be with your boyfriend. So times when the two of you were free and everybody was busy, meant you were in your room with him beneath your thighs.

His lips were against yours and there was nothing sweet about the kiss. The two of you were both strong, and your time together reflected that. Rough kisses with grabbing hands, bruises that healed quickly, and multiple rounds. 

You were just getting into it though. Your shirt was still on (his wasn’t) and you were barely grinding against him. All that went away though when your brother opened your door, without knocking.

“Hey Y/N want to get some burger- oh my god. MY EYES!,” he said and you scrambled off your boyfriend and wiped your lips subconsciously. 

“Bucky! Hi, my loving and calm big brother!” you say throwing Peter’s shirt at him. 

“I did not need to see that!” he exclaims.

“Then knock!” you shout back. 

“So are you guys a thing?” he asks sitting on a chair holding his head in his hands’ processing.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly.

“Ok. Cool. Cool. How long?” he asks.

“A year,” you say in an equally quiet voice. 

“Mhmm okay. That’s fine. Just please don’t let me see that ever again.”

“Can Pete join us for the burger?” you ask smiling.

“Sure fine whatever, c’mon,” he says.

Well if you knew he’d be this cool with it, you never would’ve hidden your relationship. But you know what they say. Hindsight’s 20/20.

Perm. Tags

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[kenzieam]

Not You - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama, potential infidelity

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL

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So... I know I should be finishing my old stories...

But I’m not, lol. I keep getting new ideas.

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In this one, Bucky finds his dream woman, the one who takes his breath away but what if she’s already taken? What’s more important, your own happiness or the happiness of others, namely your friends? And, if you have to steal it, was it yours to begin with??

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Bucky turned away from the sink, nearly dropping the glass in his hand as his heart exploded into a frantic, startled tattoo.

The girl met his eyes shyly, looking quickly away and Bucky swallowed hard, hearing his pulse hammering in his veins. “Can I help you?” He asked, voice raspy. Christ, in all the time he’d been tending bar he’d never been so simply struck by someone before.

“Um, may I have a white wine, please?” Her voice was soft and cultured, sounding faintly European in the way she pronounced her consonants.

“New around here?” He inquired, if simply to keep from gaping at her simple perfection.

She gave him a guarded smile. “I guess so. I’m supposed to be meeting an… old friend, but there was a mix-up with flights.”

Bucky poured her drink, waved off her money. “On the house,” he pronounced and, this being the fourth double shift he’d worked this week as a favour to his boss and a co-worker with a family emergency, they’d better not squawk going over the receipts later.

“Thank you.” She murmured demurely, lids fluttering closed as she took a sip.

Bucky glanced across the bar, there was no one needing his immediate attention and the siren song of this woman was too strong to ignore. “I’m James.” Somehow his nickname wouldn’t fit the moment, he thought as he extended his hand to her.

She smiled softly, still shy. “Valentina.” She offered after a faint pause, reaching up and taking his hand, he felt her softness against his callouses, a faint tingle where they touched.

Bucky opened his mouth to continue, to ask her more questions about herself, an ember of attraction beginning to glow brightly in his chest. Did she feel it too?

“Hey!” One of the waitresses, Teagan, bellowed from down the bar. “I need four beers!”

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to tell her to come around and grab them herself, but Teagan was a brat who’d either make a mess or take a bottle for herself if he didn’t watch her. Why the boss hadn’t skidded her by now was anyone’s guess, but Bucky imagined it involved a good oral game. At least she’d propositioned him at least once and he’d said hell no.

With an apologetic glance Bucky turned away, quickly filling Teagan’s order but then a crush of orders came in from individuals bellying up to the bar and he was tied up for far longer than he wanted. Finally, he had time and stepped in front of her, noting her empty glass. Valentina was texting, frowning at her screen. She glanced up and startled, an unguarded smile lighting up her face and making Bucky’s heart stutter anew.

“Another?” He managed to ask, voice cracking. Jesus, he’d never been so simply taken by a woman before and he’d spent enough time as a bartender to read her body language too. The feeling was definitely mutual.

“I’ll just have a water, please. My… friend will be done work soon; I should get going.”

Faint panic gripped Bucky’s heart but he made himself pour a water like a sane person. “I, um….” He licked his lips.

“I need an order!” The other waitress, a cougar named Lola, yelled. She would never go behind the bar, preferring to trying to chat up the nearest guy while she waited for Bucky.

Shit. He needed more time.

“I… can I have your number?” He blurted, feeling like a thousand different kinds of fool, mainly a lovestruck one.

Surprise flitted across the girl’s face, then a tentative smile. “I shouldn’t…”

“Please?”

“Hey!” Both Teagan and Lola were there now, hands on jutted-out hips.

“Just give me a minute.” Bucky pleaded, turning away from Valentina and rushing over, mixing drinks like a madman, throwing furious glances at the waitresses, who snapped gum and stared vapidly at his manic movements.

Finally, he thrust the last glass at Teagan then turned back to Valentina, an apology dying on his lips.

She wasn’t there.

He’d missed his chance.

Fuck.

********************************************************************************

Her skin was unbelievably soft, her scent a heady mix that made his pulse race and nestled deep in his soul. His body responded to her readily, heart hammering in his chest as he caressed her shoulder, pulled her down to meet his greedy lips. She moaned and writhed against him, grinding her core against his painfully hard cock.

Peeling off her shirt he kissed first one breast than the other, slowing down to lav attention to each when she moaned again, fingers clawing through his hair to hold him close.

“More, god Bucky-” she whimpered, tugging almost painfully at his locks.

“Fuck-” drawing out the curse, morphing it with a groan of need, Bucky rolled, pinning Valentina beneath him. Grinding his hips to hers he reveled in her gasp, her stuttered hitching breath.

He couldn’t wait any longer, pulling at her panties, a feral growl spilling from his lips when she matched him, yanking at his jeans, pushing them down over his ass just enough to free his cock and then he was pushing inside her, into her sweet heat and fighting off his rushing climax at the ecstasy found there.

“God, baby-” he gasped, hips thrusting helplessly, hopelessly caught in sensations and pleasure. Never before had he felt such bliss, been so ensnared in the web of a woman.

Valentina moaned, arching up to pull him deeper, legs wrapping around his hips, tangling with his jeans still bunched there; her voice broke as she whimpered his name, clawing at his face to pull him down to her mouth again, her desperate kiss stealing his breath with it’s intensity.

He could feel his orgasm rising dangerously fast, but he didn’t care, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop such a freight train of heavenly sensations, he only wanted Valentina to crash into the abyss with him.

And then she tensed, walls tightening around him as her own climax hit, crying out his name and dragging him right down with her. With a roar he surrendered, giving into his release with a shudder, face twisting as his cock throbbed almost painfully inside her, spilling his seed in thick pulses-

Bucky startled awake with a gasp, hand still gripping his shaft, the waves of his powerful orgasm still crashing over him and, even as the shudders of pleasure skated across his skin and through his body he winced, feeling a thick, creamy mess pooling on his belly.

Jesus Christ.

He hadn’t had a fucking wet dream in years, and yet ten minutes contact over a bar-top with a beautiful stranger had him spilling in his sleep like a teenager.

Groaning, he glanced down at himself then cursed. Fuck, he had laundry to do now too, he hadn’t shot so huge a load in a long time; fuck, this woman had him all sorts of tangled up.

And all he had was her first name. Not even a goddamn phone number.

Still grumbling, still wincing and cursing himself, Bucky rolled from the bed, used the already soiled sheet to wipe his belly clean then pulled them from the bed and piling them in the corner to launder later, storming nude to the bathroom he and Steve shared in their two-bedroom apartment, not caring whether his oldest friend got an eyeful or not.

Only once the water grew cold from the scalding he’d set it at did Bucky emerge, toweling off and striding back to his room to pull on sweats and grab a coffee. Steve had set some brewing before leaving for his morning run and Bucky needed a hit of caffeine like he needed air.

He’d just taken a sip when the front door opened and Steve walked in, glistening with sweat and still breathing hard.

“Morning,” Bucky grunted.

“Hey, Buck. How’s your morning?”

Trust me punk, you don’t want to know. “Fine.”

“Got to sleep in at least, that your last double shift for a while? What was that anyway, four in a row?” Steve moved past him, pouring an ice water from the fridge, and swallowing half the glass in one go.

Bucky grunted in answer, but Steve had always been the more loquacious of their duo.

“Work tonight?” Steve continued, reaching for a box of cereal.

“Nah, night off.”

“Good, Sam wants us to come over. His girlfriend’s moved back, and he wants us to meet her.”

Bucky frowned, trying to remember. While he was friends with Sam, it was Steve who worked with him and was the closer of the two. Then he remembered, she’d grown up with Sam, gone all through grade school with him, just like him and Steve, and they’d been roommates all through university, also like him and Steve. Apparently, they’d started dating after graduation and, when she’d been offered a special project in Europe almost two years ago, they’d gone long-distance, her moving across the ocean and Sam moving here, becoming immediate friends with Steve when they started working at the same job together.

“What’s her name again?” Bucky asked, not really caring. His mind was still stuck on the mysterious Valentina, not on Sam’s girlfriend, whom he wouldn’t even know from a hole in the ground, he’d never even seen a picture of her before.

“Lev?” Steve replied, quirking a brow. “Something unique like that, yeah… Lev, Sam calls her Levi.” He pronounced it like ‘levee’, shrugging.

Bucky nodded absently, Valentina’s hypnotizing violet eyes holding his attention. God, she’d had the most beautiful eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, long and full lashes; and her hair, an auburn shade like he’d never encountered. Either natural or the best damn dye job he’d ever seen, she’d stood out from the crowd with her looks alone, not even counting the magnetism and aura she gave off…. Christ, he was in trouble.

“You there?” Steve’s amused voice broke in, his punch harmlessly bouncing off Bucky’s powerful shoulder.

“Huh?” Bucky rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the hit. He hadn’t had much of a chance to hit the gym this week, what with working so many doubles in a row, and he needed to go; blasting away all his frustrations and anger lifting weights and hammering at the heavy bags kept him level and calm, soothed the latent edginess of his soul, which had, upon reflection, gone strangely serene last night when he’d laid eyes on Valentina too.

“You’re a million miles away, jerk.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just-” he broke off, wiping his mouth with his hand and shaking his head.

“A girl?” There was genuine interest in Steve’s voice; while he didn’t begrudge his oldest friend’s continued one-night stands, he’d always wanted Bucky to find someone to share himself with, someone to soothe the man’s seeming natural-born vulnerability and loneliness that not even close friendships could compensate for.

Bucky felt a thrill at the thought. Yes, this was about a girl. The first time he could honestly say that. His reddening face answered before his mouth could and Steve hooted, slapping him on the same shoulder he’d just punched.

“Really?” The blonde’s eyes were sparkling. “Tell me.” He snagged the milk from the fridge and poured some over his cereal, overfilling it in a way that always made Bucky nervous. The man’s milk to cereal ratio was whack.

Bucky hesitated, struck with the sudden incongruous thought that speaking her name aloud would somehow puncture the spell, convince the universe to rip her away, make her all a figment of Bucky’s imagination.

“Her name’s Valentina.” He couldn’t help a quirk of his lips when Steve let out a girlish squeak and clapped his hands, as if this were the best news he’d heard in years.

“And?” He prompted, leaning against the counter, picking up his bowl of cereal and lifting the spoon to his mouth, brow raised in question.

Bucky let out his breath in a rush, not able to hold it back anymore. “And she’s fucking perfect, man. I mean, I saw her, and it was like… fuck, I mean she just… grabbed me.”

“Like literally?” Steve grinned, milk dribbling off his chin when he gave Bucky a smartass grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes and continued. “No, but Steve…. Her eyes, Jesus, and her smile? I… I didn’t know what to do, it was like I’d just ran into a brick wall or something.”

“And her? What was she like? Was she hit too?”

Bucky nodded slowly, replaying her actions in his head. “Yeah, I think so.” A huge grin split his face and he was suddenly struck with the urge to throw his head back and roar.

“What’d she say? Did you guys talk?”

Bucky shrugged. “We didn’t get much of a chance, I had Teagan and Lola last night-” he threw Steve a look because Steve knew as well as Bucky how useless both waitresses truly were.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. I asked for her number but then got busy and… fuck man, when I turned back, she was gone.”

“Shitty.” Steve commented, shaking his head.

“I know.” Bucky felt a moment of real panic but forced himself to breathe.

“You want to skip Sam’s tonight? Go over there and see if she comes back?”

He was torn, he really was. Would she be back? For all their pretend animosity, Sam was a real friend to him though, and he hadn’t seen the smirking bastard in a few weeks, he needed to go. “Nah, I should go see Sam, it’s been awhile.”

Steve noticed his struggle and considered. “Chap working today?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied.

“Ask him to keep an eye out. If she shows, he can give her your number. He owes you.”

He did. “Yeah…. Okay. I got a bunch of errands to run today anyway, I’ll stop by.”

“You want me to wait until you’re back to go to Sam’s?”

Bucky shrugged, they only lived a floor apart, Sam being one down from them, its not like Bucky would get lost, but he appreciated his friend’s consideration. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem. I got a few things to wrap up too, see you later?” Steve had finished his cereal and was already walking towards his bedroom. He and Steve had been roommates, in one apartment or another, for years but this was far and away the nicest, a pre-war building neither would be able to afford alone and, until a few months ago, Sam had been in the same boat, but his roomie, a quirky, somewhat eccentric kid named Tony, had left. It was good timing that his girlfriend was moving back now, almost fated.

“Later.” Bucky called, then forced his mind away from Valentina. He’d get nothing done today if he let her stay there.

*******************************************************************************

Later that night, Bucky followed Steve absently down the flight of stairs to Sam’s floor. He’d gotten all his errands done, convinced Chap to keep an eye out and had even had time to fantasize about Valentina in the shower, groaning her name in release as he’d stroked himself to completion, pulsing his thick seed onto his fingers and the shower floor. He’d leaned his head against the tiled wall, breathing heavily and wishing feverishly for the real thing before straightening with a growl and finishing his shower, body still aching with want.

Steve knocked and waited; usually they’d just knock once and head on it, but neither wanted to walk into something they didn’t want to see.

After a moment, the door was thrown open and Sam’s familiar face split into a huge grin. “Hey!” Always a happy, personable guy, there seemed to be an extra level in him tonight, no doubt finally having his girl back with him. “Sit down,” he pointed to their usual perches on the couch and armchair. “Lev will be right out.” He focused on Bucky. “How you been, man? It’s been a while. Steve says you’ve been pulling doubles down at the bar?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, leaning back in the chair, and getting more comfortable. “Chap’s mom fell down and banged herself up some, I took his shifts so he could go help her for a few days.”

“You’re too nice, man.” Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Steve said Teagan and Lola were there? Christ, what a pair.”

Bucky quirked his brow in agreement. “Yeah, it was special all right.”

“Sam?” A female voice called.

“Yeah, baby?” Sam leapt to his feet. “Lev’s pretty jet-lagged, she was sleeping most of the day.” He explained as he disappeared down the hallway. Quiet voices too low to make out floated back but Bucky caught something that sounded like ‘you look fine, baby girl, before Sam reappeared, his huge grin back. He glanced over his shoulder, pulling gently on someone’s hand, then turned back to his friends.

“Steve, Bucky, this is my girlfriend, Lev. Lev, this is Steve and that’s Bucky.” He pointed to each man in turn, but Bucky’s eyes were locked on Lev.

What the hell?

What kind of cosmic fucking joke was this??

Leaning into Sam’s side, nestled into his one-armed embrace but staring at Bucky with shock equal to his, was a heartbreakingly familiar face.

Valentina.

[npmjs]

Next Phase Montage

tl;dr -- Good news!

npm, Inc., is being purchased by GitHub.

The public registry remains public, free, and as available as ever.

npm as you know it continues, and in fact, there is good reason to believe that it'll only get better.

I'm still going to be working on npm (but with the luxury of more resources and less stress).

I'm really excited about the stuff we're going to do.

It is customary for a founder, in the closing chapter of their startup, to ruminate in a blog post about their incredible journey1. When we founded npm, Inc., I knew that I was signing up for a post like this someday. I'm extremely thankful that this is the one I get to write2.

history and origin

Back in 2009, after too long without a vacation, I quit my job, in hopes of discovering what happens when I untether my creativity.

What happened is I wrote a package manager.

I created npm with the goal of sharing modules in a tiny group of nerdy weirdos who'd decided to write web servers in JavaScript. From that niche beginning, npm grew, slowly but surely, the background project I'd greedily steal away time for.

At the end of 2013, npm hit a rough spot and we had to make a decision. This was the first big bookmark in the npm story, when the project could no longer survive on donations. We made some slide decks and raised an amount of money that seemed enormous at the time, but inevitably got spent really fast.

the part where i talk about startups

Running a company is hard. It is grueling, unglamorous work.

I don't want to make it sound completely terrible. There are definitely a few awesome parts. But once is enough for me.

Throughout this journey, our north star has been the mission that we founded this company with: reduce friction in JavaScript software development.

I have a set of goals that I wrote down back then, and have shared openly with the team. They haven't changed much.

Keep the npm registry running forever (not only for the life of the company).

Be a company that we can all enjoy working at, and do the best work of our careers up until now.

Get a big enough exit that I can quit my job and see what comes out of me a second time.

Share the rewards equitably with the people who got npm to where it is.

There are few unmitigated successes or failures in the real world. But this is a win, and a good one, for me and the team and the entire JavaScript community.

We have made tremendous progress on (1), and that's the thing I'm happiest about in this. As far as (2), there's been ups and downs, to say the least, but the bright spots outshine the dark. I've lost some valued friendships in the process, but made a few as well. On (3), well, I'm still working a jobby job, but I always knew that was a long shot, and "make npm a better package manager" is a job I enjoy. And as for (4), I'm proud of the deals that we've been able to negotiate for the team.

It's not a kajillion billion dollar 10x startup cinderella story, and we've taken our hits, but in the end we've done right by our community, team, and careers, and I'm extremely proud of what we've achieved.

the part where i talk about the company buying us

One of the questions founders get asked a lot is "what might your exit look like?" I always mentioned the big tech companies as possibilities, and GitHub as a sort of "wishful thinking" option.

I've been following GitHub's trajectory closely since they came to Yahoo! to give a talk about git and social coding way back in 20093. It's been a huge part of my life ever since I dove head-first into open source as a lifestyle choice.

When I saw the GitHub Packages beta announcement and demo at GitHub HQ in San Francisco, I remember turning to Shanku Niyogi and clumsily blurting out, "Why aren't you trying to buy us?"

It seemed so maddeningly... obvious. Forget about whose logo is on which webpage, just... if you're going to do this thing, do it right, ffs. This clearly needs to be integrated with the actual registry in a very deep way. "I mean... You see that, right?" (I think he probably did. And if he didn't, then props to him for taking my reaction as flattery or a good idea, rather than condescension.)

What I didn't really expect at the beginning of the acquisition process was how much I'd genuinely like everyone I met at GitHub, starting with my initial conversations with Nat, as well as all the people on the team he's built. As we dug into the technical and strategic plans for how npm would fit into the vision of GitHub moving forward, it became clear that this isn't just a good option for the JavaScript community -- it's significantly better than what npm, Inc., can provide on its own.

There are not many companies that can claim to have the kind of fanatical commitment to open source that GitHub does. In the track record of Nat and the team he's assembled, there's really something special here that I'm thrilled to be a part of.

I've said countless times before that I wouldn't let the registry go someplace that won't take care of it. (See goal (1) above. I've sacrificed years of my life and put a strain on many personal and professional relationships in pursuit of that goal.)

As GitHub has branched out into other aspects of the end-to-end developer community experience, it's natural to see how the JavaScript package management process fits into that story. It's not a loss leader or an experimental add-on or a way to quickly hire a team. Rather, the npm registry is a significant and concrete strategic asset serving GitHub's mission of eliminating transaction costs in software development.

That's important.

the part about what comes next

Today, npm serves over 1.3 million packages to roughly 12 million developers, who download these things 75 billion times a month, and all of this is growing at a rate that ensures these massive numbers will seem small in a few years.

Our commitment to that community is to keep the npm registry free for open source development for the foreseeable future, and continue to improve the npm CLI. At GitHub, npm will have the added support and backing of one of the world's largest companies, behind the world's largest community of developers.

There are some awesome opportunities for improvement in the npm experience, to meaningfully improve life for JS devs in countless large and small ways. We'll be making things more reliable, convenient, and connected for everyone across our vast interdependent JavaScript ecosystem.

For six years, in the grind of a startup, we've had dreams too big to dare hope for. This next chapter is a chance to realize those dreams.

This is the end of "npm, Inc.", the Delaware C Corp. But it's an exciting upgrade for npm.

[1]: Reference joke Our Incredible Journey

[2]: It's also worth noting that GitHub allowed such a long, nuanced, and candid announcement as this one, and didn't push for a watered down corporate version. Cultural alignment is a good sign.

[3]: Check out the date on the post for that talk. Then note the date on this commit. It's like some kind of cryptic message from the past, and it's weirding me out, tbh.

[simonxriley]

Skylar’s relationships with the other Operators!

Regarding this post, I felt inclined to go into more details about Skylar’s relationship with all of the other operators because I needed a distraction from the very bad anxiety I was having at the time. I’m gonna do them by their CTUs to make it easier. Some won’t have much because I have yet to figure the relationship out myself or I got lazy, this post has been in my drafts for a few weeks now. 

FBI Swat:

Ash: Eliza was the first person she befriended when she joined Rainbow and she quickly became Skylar’s best friend. In a lot of ways Ash reminds her of her late friend Molly that died in the ambush when she was a Marine and it makes it feel like Molly is still with her. Skylar also has a lot of respect for her and looks up to her. 

Thermite: He’s like her older, annoying brother. She loves him and trust him with her life, but at the same time he can really grind her gears. However she does have a real close relationship with him and it’s nice when they sit around in the rec-room, outside or in the cafeteria just talking about their time in the Marines and all the memories that come with it. 

Pulse: She’s really good friends with Pulse and he was her honorary work out buddy since the day she joined Rainbow. 

Castle: She’s also really good friends with Castle. He made her feel very welcomed from day one and has always been there to lend a hand. However she does wish they would have more missions together. 

Flores: She likes Flores and finds his jokes pretty funny. Other than that their relationship is pretty neutral. 

Spetsnaz:

Tachanka: Out of everyone in Rainbow she’s the closest with Tachanka. He’s had her back from the beginning, has helped her grow as a person and has taught her a bunch of new things, including Russian. To put it simple so I don’t ramble on about them (because I can) he’s her husband and they have eight (8) kids together. P.S. This doesn’t count for his updated bio because I already had their lives planned out before Ubisoft updated. So the eight kids don’t include his ‘canon’ ones. 

Glaz: She’s very close with Glaz and they have quite a bit in common. Both are snipers and both have an artistic background. She’s learned so much from Glaz as an artist, but also as a sniper and she enjoys her time with him. She also calls him her sniping buddy. 

Kapkan: She pretty close with Kapkan since he took her under his wing when she joined. She’s learned a lot from him, and having someone like Kapkan take her under his wing to train, helped her immensely in the stealth department. Because of him she became a better ‘hunter’. 

Fuze: It took a bit for her to get closer to Fuze because of how quiet he was. But overtime they became quite close and they have each others back when out on missions together. Skylar also finds his voice very soothing so she always has an open ear when he talks with her. 

SAS:

Thatcher: Mike was Skylar’s mentor since the day she joined. Six thought it would be best for him to take her under his wing since they shared the same views on technology and Six thought he’s be a good mentor for someone like her. Skylar respects Thatcher immensely, not just from what she’s learned from the veteran SAS soldier, but for also saving her life on one mission. If it wasn’t for him throwing one of his EMP grenades inside that room, her recklessness would have cost her her life. Sometimes, however they do clash because of the age difference. 

Sledge: She’s very close with Sledge and loves hearing about all the reckless stuff he did when he was younger. It makes her feel better about her recklessness and knowing she can grow out of it like he did to a point. She’s also had a few friendly debates over the news with him. 

Smoke: She’s quite close with Smoke and enjoys his company, especially when they box together. She loves the friendly, yet competitive matches they have every so often. James is someone she goes to when she needs to relieve some stress that Tachanka can’t take away. Where they either talk about their lives as they box or do some simulations and see who can win 5 rounds first. 

Mute: She’s not that close with Mute, even though they are closer in age. They’re personalities just don’t add up well off the field, but they can work very well on it. 

GIGN:

Twitch: She has a neutral relationship with her, but does admire her knowledge of technology. 

Montagne: She has a neutral relationship with Gilles. 

Doc: She has a good relationship with Doc, more so after he saved her life during the Outbreak. 

Rook: She has a very good relationship with Julien, since he’s only 2 years older than her they can talk about and understand the new lingo going around. 

GSG-9:

Blitz: She has a very good relationship with Elias and loves his sense of humor, helps calm the nerves before a mission.

IQ: She has a neutral relationship with her.

Bandit: She has a neutral/good relationship with Bandit. Depends on the day. 

Jager: She has a good relationship with Marius.

JTF2:

Buck: She has a neutral relationship with him.

Frost: She has a neutral relationship with her.

SEALS:

Valkyrie: She has a good relationship with Meghan and trains with her from time to time. When she’s not with Finka. 

Blackbeard: She has a neutral relationship with him.

BOPE: 

Caveira: At first she was kind of scared of her because she had such an ominous atmosphere about her, but over time she grew to like her and have a good relationship. 

Capitao: She doesn’t have much of a relationship with Capitao, there more acquaintances than anything. 

SAT:

HIbana: She’s very close with Hibana, she was one of the first people in Rainbow Skylar called friend. They train/workout together almost everyday and loves learning about Hibana’s history, training and culture. They also spend quite a bit of time off base from time to time as well. 

Echo: Doesn’t have a good relationship with Echo, thinks he’s too uptight and blunt. 

GEO:

Mira: She has a very good relationship with Elena and will help brainstorm ideas with her for Tachanka’s LMG. 

Jackal: She has a very good relationship with Ryad and has tried his eyenox during a simulation once. They also technically share a birthday. Since he was born on a leap year, he normally celebrates it the 28th, which is Skylar’s. 

SDU: 

Ying: Skylar and Ying used to have a decent relationship until one altercation where Skylar took Fuze’s side in an argument. And then that friendship turned sour. However there’s no real rivalry between them and they can still work well together when on missions. 

Lesion: She likes Lesion, thinks he’s alright and decent to hang out with on base. However she does think the toothpick in his mouth is kinda hazardous. 

GROM: 

Ela: She’s also very close with Ela and they kinda bonded over their recklessness. They both also share an artistic background and are the younger sister in their families. Ela is someone Skylar can go to and rant and ramble about personal problems while they work on their art and Ela will do the same. She also really enjoys their time off base where they can cause a bit of trouble and blow off steam. 

Zofia: She doesn’t know Zofia that much since she’s not on base that often, but she thinks she’s pretty cool. 

SMB: 

Dokkaebi: She has a neutral relationship with her, but really likes her gadget. 

Vigil: She has a neutral relationship with him, but thinks he’s too quiet. 

CBRN: 

Lion: She’s quite close with Lion. She doesn’t hold a grudge due to his past and thinks he’s strong for trying to make things right as best he can, which is what we all want to do in life when we mess up. And in all honesty, she thinks some of the other operators treat him a little unfairly because of what happened. Yes people died because of his actions, but he was young and being thrown into something like that isn’t easy. She can’t fully blame him for something like that. 

Finka: These two have a deep rooted dislike for one another. At first their relationship was neutral until Skylar found out about her condition and then all hell broke loose. Sky thinks her condition is a liability and she doesn’t want to be on a mission with her when it decides to go wrong. And Finka thinks Sky’s a liability due to her recklessness on missions. Six/Harry knows about the rivalry and won’t put them together for a mission or training. 

GIS: 

Maestro: She has a neutral relationship with him

Alibi: She has a neutral relationship with her.

GSUTR:

Maverick: A fellow New Englander like herself, she has a neutral relationship with him and they occasionally talk about how the New England Patriots are doing this season. Yes I HC them BOTH being Patriot fans. 

Clash: She has this weird respect for Clash, because she can respect her for going up against racist groups in her community for a better change and future. And she kind low-key scares her. 

GIGR: 

Nomad: She’s pretty neutral in friendship when it comes to Nomad. Though she does kind of envy all the places she’s been, and likes how she doesn’t brag about things. 

Kaid: Skylar’s not that close with Kaid, then again she’s barely sees him since she’s usually with Thatcher, the FBI or Spetsnaz. But she does respect him. 

Oryx: 

SASR: 

Gridlock: Skylar has a good relationship with Tori and looks up to her in a way. She loves her ‘get on with things attitude’ and doesn’t shy away from the hard work and finds humor in every situation. Being a Marine, Skylar adapted to that very same mindset. 

Mozzie: She became very fast friends with him (and his wife) when he joined. She loves his attitude and the fact that he’s a daredevil and quite hyperactive. Their relationship even grew closer when Skylar found out she was having twins and since he already had twins, it was such a relief to have someone she could go to about it. 

JGK: 

Nokk: She doesn’t mind her and Skylar thinks she’s a nice woman but having her file be almost completely redacted doesn’t sit well with her. It makes her wonder what Nokk’s is hiding. 

USSS: 

Warden: She’s not too keen on him, something about him just puts her off. So she tries to avoid him as much as possible. 

APCA: 

Amaru: She doesn’t know Amaru all that well but from what she’s heard from Goyo she seems like a great woman. And Skylar is looking forward to getting to know her more. 

FES: 

Goyo: She’s quite close with Goyo and enjoys her time with him. She even admires his way of thinking before he speaks, which she has a hard time doing herself and could learn a thing or two from him. 

NITEHAV: 

Kali: She’s on the top of Skylar’s hate list. Not only does Sky not like the fact that she’s a mercenary, but also how she trains people. Skylar will never agree on breaking someone down physically and emotionally to the point that they’re born anew. And since she’s a merc, it doesn’t sit well with Skylar because they work for their own self interest, so it makes her wonder what Harry told them to make her want to join Rainbow. She also had a few altercations with her, one that caused Skylar to punch her in the face. 

Wamai: She hates that he’s a merc like Kali, but Wamai does hold her interest because she thinks he’s pretty cool. But she doesn’t fully trust him and kinda envy's his breathing techniques under water. Other than that they have a pretty neutral friendship. 

Ace: She finds him insufferable. Too self-centered, arrogant and too egotistical for her liking. She would rather deal with anyone else but him. 

Aruni: The only NITEHAV member Skylar actually likes. She heard about her through Thermite and has heard a lot of good things about her. She enjoys what little time she has with her and loves hearing about old stories involving Thermite. 

Osa: Her relationship with her is pretty similar to Wamai’s. Well in the neutral aspect of it. She doesn’t fully like her but neither fully hates her either. She’s just kinda there. 

REU:

Iana: She’s neutral when it comes to Iana. She nice and easy to be around and Skylar doesn’t have a problem being on a team with her. 

ITF:

Melusi: She has a neutral relationship with Melusi and applauds her for her work she has done on the reserve. It has to be tough trying to protect wildlife from poachers. 

ROS:

Zero: Her relationship with Sam is neutral, she looks up to him and respects him, but they don’t really talk a lot. Only in passing or when they need to, he is a busy man. 

STAR-NET Aviation:

Thunderbird: She hasn’t really had the chance to really talk with Mina, but the few short conversation she has had with her went well and Sky is happy she decided to join Rainbow. 

[fanfiction-inc]

“But Of Course.”

Title: “But Of Course.”

Verse: Dracula (2020)

Characters/Pairings: Dracula/ Reader

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, alcohol, mentions of blood, blood, body disposal, flirting. Not really that worrisome.

Word Count: 1607

Summary: A request for a friend about the reader meeting Dracula in the bar. Oh, the bonding.

Rating: Mature (for mature themes)

Note: I was requested from a good friend to write a thirst story for her without truly going into smut. So here we are. Thank you to the always lovely @yancy-trash​ on Tumblr for proofing this fic and giving me feedback before I post it.

Link to Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781278

Saturday night, prime time for the clubbers and mingling masses. Lovely chaos of the clubs that spill out into the streets and spread among drunkards and horny bastards. Too much noise, too much glee and happiness. Sickening stench of club-rigged drugs and bathroom sex. Boring, always so boring, and yet those that were unfortunate enough to be dragged along must endure. A tap to the mahogany surface of the clubs bar top, the bartender sending a light nod to the woman sitting alone near the end of the bar away from company of the gathering university masses, spilling drinks here and there and getting into petty squabbles over who fucked who and whom and who called dibs on the next hot piece of ass. Distasteful, this generation had always been so distasteful.

Whisky on the rocks, straightforward with no questions asked, that was what this world needed. No guesswork, just something to numb the pain and drown out the noise that has been so festering at the ear drums. A single sip was taken before the weight of a college lad slammed against the back of the woman sitting alone, drink spilling all over the bar top and coating the mahogany and spilling over the edges onto the bottles below holding various other liquors. She groaned, gaze looking back at the lad who gave a cheeky smile and threw that look that only said selfish prick. “Hiya baby d-” “Don’t even fucking try, mate. If you’re this much of a light weight, stumbling around, I’m rather sure you wouldn’t last two seconds in bed. Scram.” The lad was about to argue before catching sight of a new skinnier and more viable, even drunker than him, option of a woman. Long legs, legs for fucking days. The woman sighed, surprised when a new glass was set before her on the semi-cleaned bar top, napkin beneath holding neat lettering. “Who?” Was all the woman had to ask, a finger pointed to the man at the other end of the bar top, glass raised in greetings with that look that simply said ‘enjoy’. Another glance to the napkin below, note neatly written yet beginning to smear from the remnants of the whiskey that had been spilled before.

“It’s quiet over here. Care to join me?”

It was an invitation from a man far older yet far different from the crowd lingering within the confines of the club. It seemed he held a far more confident air, and he didn’t seem like the drunkard party boy type much like the others standing about trying to catch a new lad or lass for their five second sexcapades in the handicap stall of the club's bathroom. Slowly the half-drenched napkin and glass of newly poured whiskey was moved along to the end where the man sat, the shadow in the back of neon lights and drug induced dancing. He looked near pleased when the woman sits with him, looking on to the was she stretched to straddle the seat before crossing her legs in a far more lady-like manner. “Either this was given to the wrong woman or you have me gravely mistaken.”

A moment where the man smirked against the rim of his glass, stealing a slow, savored sip of the thickened red of a wine that didn’t smell too sweet, nor really smelled much like a wine. But who was to say what it really smelled beyond the scent that clashed within the mass of bodies. “Oh, it was meant for you, I do promise you that. No one as lovely as you should be alone, and for that same token, hit on by boys thinking they’re men.”

“And do you consider yourself the lucky man who will score tonight?” The man shrugged, sending a small chuckle to the woman at his side. “No one is quite able to determine the outcome of the night, not nearly so early into the evening when things are just starting. So, no, I do not consider myself lucky in such regards unless you are to change my mind on such.” A wink that could have been missed with a blink of an eye caught the woman off guard, a soft smile tracing her lips.

“You seemed quite lonesome, my dear. All alone with no party to keep your interest?” He inquired with a raised brow, wondering why someone with such a steady heart and lovely gaze would be alone in the epicenter of drunken and lust induced chaos. “Oh, m’party left a while ago. No fun, those posh bastards. All they want is to dance, drink, and fuck. The same rinse and repeat every weekend. It gets bloody boring, especially when I’m not much for dancing or bein’ pressured to find some sod to bring home.”

“Ah, I believe I understand. I’m rather, how should I say, picky with my preferences in people. Like a fine connoisseur of wines, you have to pick through the crowd to find the right flavor.”

“You’ve got that right.” A glance over the mans features, he grinned at her lingering gaze. “Sometimes the right vintage is in order, though I’m far more a whiskey connoisseur than wine. It’s never done much for my taste.”

“Or is it a matter that it simply doesn’t give you the right numbing buzz?”

She paused at his words, wondering just how the man could figure such. Was she that visible, that see-through? “Of course I mean no offense by such, my dear. You just simply seem tired of the same grind, the same motions like a creek that always floods. You appear prone to it.” A stifle of a saddened chuckle. The woman knew he hit the nail right on the head. “You know, if you’re gonna hit that close to home, you might as well get my name first.” He blinked before placing a hand on his head with a chuckle, his dramatics almost charming in a way. “May I ask the name of such a ravishing creature?” She actually blushed at his words, startled to be called ravishing by such an extraordinary man who could read her like an open book. “(First name). Her hand was extended to shake his own and yet the shadow of a man surprised her when he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, a delicate kiss given to her knuckles. “I’m Dracula. Count Dracula if you must.” The air around them seemed to shift to a far more comfortable setting, even as the club began to grow tighter and tighter, far more suffocating then one would prefer. The drinks kept coming, the world numbing to a dull buzz and the gentle drone of her mystery man's voice as he spoke of many things. Art, music, the culture of the modern world. It was to the point that a glass of water was taken and sipped before a final invitation arose.

“(First name), would you care to join me before I retire for the night? Perhaps a stroll in the park?” It was truly an innocent offer on his behalf, the crimson liquid that had dwindled to mere drops left behind on the bar top and arm offered for the other. “I don’t know, Drac. I think I should call a cab and make my way back to m’flat. Perhaps a rain check?” He smiled at her words. His dinner plans had been thrown out the window the moment he realized the water was beginning to work its way through her system and she didn’t seem to nearly sway as bad. Oh well, ‘fast food’ was in order for tonight, and she may serve as a sweetened dinner on another night. “Ah, yes, of course.” He offered a hand once more to the woman, a soft peck yet again dropped to her knuckles before a card was tucked against her palm. She turned it over to see the Counts number, a faint smirk meeting her lips. “I’ll make sure to m-” A glance up and the man was gone, leaving the other to wonder just where he could have squeezed his lengthy frame off to in the middle of such a chaotic crowd.

A cab was called as the night grew later, back hitting the worn leather of the interior seat and sigh falling from painted lips.

[You never told me you were a magician, Mr. Count. - (Y/n)]

[I never said I wasn’t, my dear. ;) - D]

The Count smirked as he glanced down to his phone, the odd little device bringing that same excitement as the thrill of the chase when he captures his next meal. Indeed, this one truly had been fast food. He lightly wipes at the crimson that had beaded and rolled from the corner of his mouth down his chin, the cloth tucked away within his suit pocket as the corpse before his feet was nudged off into the water of the Thames. Oh, how lovely London was for its disposal services. Such a body of water provided the loveliest of cover ups.

[Care to meet me for drinks next week? Maybe we could find something a bit more to your selective flavors. - (Y/N)]

[Oh, how that sounds delectable. Consider my schedule free for that night, my dear. -D]

[Always a charmer, aren’t you? - (Y/N)]

A snicker fluttered among the air when he looked at the brightened screen, a lick to his lips following as he followed the familiar streets leading to his own flat, quiet steps that would normally echo silent as he thinks of a reply. Oh, this one way playful when not in person.

[But of course. -D]