#like I was on team money and I only got 1 mirror match

[cherryistired]

Ok but for real how did team love get so many mirror matches and didn’t even take the popular vote. What happened there

[dragonmaiden39point5]

No Escape (1)

Been working on this for months, was a one shot but now it's not. Lol. As usual hope you enjoy.

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

Summary: You grow tired of Bakugo's bad behavior and after 4 years as a couple, you make a run for it.

Katsuki Bakugo x Black!Reader

Darkfic. Stalking, humiliation, dub-con, mild Daddy!kink. Potentially some untagged triggers.

@palettesofrenaissance as requested I am tagging you on my first part!

The stars had abandoned the sky, leaving the night black as pitch. The bladed edge of the cold air sliced at your ashen skin as you shuffled through woods. Here amongst the silent, barren trees, you were safe-- Far from the disaster of turbulence that was your relationship.

Katsuki was not right for you, a fact that you realized all too late after you were already involved. He didn't come on super strong when he first asked you out; He honestly had behaved as if he could've cared less if you were interested. However, within weeks of that first date, he was blowing up your phone with calls and texts every second of the day. It was cute-- even endearing at first, but as the honeymoon phase ceased, it was beyond overbearing.

With no regard for when you were at work, he was ceaseless in his seemingly sudden obsession. When you finally did hang out, he was all over you in near desperation, yearning for your completely undivided attention. It felt like you were suffocating as he consistently crowded your space and cut out all of the people in your life that mattered. You're not even entirely sure when you moved in with him. More and more of your stuff just kept turning up at his house, until he 'convinced' you not to go back to your apartment.

The clingy attachment got worse after you yielded to the pressure of living with him. You weren't allowed to keep a code on your phone anymore and only hung out with people he knew personally (most of which looked as if they wanted to go into a rut when they saw you). These things weren't something you took quietly though. There were countless screaming matches and arguments, all of which ended with him taking advantage of your heightened emotions and fucking you stupid across the nearest surface or piece of furniture after you had given up and started crying (you weren't exactly proud of that fact).

The highest point of contention after you'd yielded everywhere else, had been your job. His parents died and left an unspeakable amount of trust-fund money, so he didn't work which (to him) meant you shouldn't either. Plus, with you being in real estate, he outright said that he didn't want you, "Dressing up to be surrounded by a bunch of low-life bastards." There was also, the fact that you could ride around sometimes one or two towns over for hours ignoring him-- which especially caused him grief.

His solution was to track your car, stalking your every move when you left the house and actively attempting to make you quit. At one point he'd slashed all four tires of your car while you showed a house so that of course, you had to call him to pick you up. A different time, you took a (male) client and his son out to lunch to show him what the local attractions were like, and you went outside to a kicked in windshield, as well as all 4 windows busted out. Not even the sideview mirrors were spared.

Your management team was able to turn a blind eye those times and let you lie and claim random acts of vandalism or mistaken identity, especially with all the love you got from clients and other customers alike. However, not to be defeated, Bakugo upped the ante and had his buddy from the police force send SWAT to a house that you were doing a walkthrough on. They kicked in the doors and windows with guns and helicopters claiming that they received an active shooter notice for the address. You had been scared shitless, that is until the SWAT team carried you out and you saw Iida suited up, looking completely unbothered despite the 'severity' of the situation. He actually lit a cigarette and subjected you to an entirely unnecessary, way-too-thorough body search behind one of the police cruisers. Seconds later a familiar orange mustang with orange rims drove by and you knew what was going on. Luckily, the police presence spared you from being fired, as management had believed there was real danger. (The event was breaking news and blocked traffic for hours).

With that one having backfired and you crying and throwing a fit, he bought you a dog to 'apologize' though he never actually said the words. He later proceeded to double down on arguments about you quitting your job and broke your phone. Of course he ended up replacing it with a fancier more expensive one-- But you soon realized that it had only the contacts of people that had earned his approval and a monitoring software.

It was never ending with him, but trying to leave or break up face to face only made him hold you hostage until you promised not to leave. After waking up handcuffed to the headboard the last time you tried that, you chose not to try it again.

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Meanwhile, hard work and dedication (and screaming matches with your boyfriend) afforded you the senior salesperson promotion, meaning you were one step from a sales management position. With this title under your belt, you could step into a leadership role with more freedom than before.

To build reputation and show management potential, you were given the chance to sell a house of your choice and then would go through a shadowing and training process, meaning you were about 6-8 months shy of your dream position if everything worked out okay.

You'd spotted the perfect property and bought it on behalf of the company. There hadn't been too much confidence in it due to its age compared to other homes in the area, but with the right renovations and staging, and a well advertised open house, buyers would flock; that much was certain.

Late nights, early mornings, a dozen gallons of coffee. There was nothing your heart desired more than for the success of this house-- the success of you. It would be perfect and even set a new standard for open house events within the company.

There were unfortunately several out of budget expenses, like hiring a caterer and setting up before and after photoshoots for the property. The cost of landscaping had gone over due to several rotted tree removals, and sod placement for quite a bit of the back and side yards. There was also no way you were going to fill in the inground pool, which would become a major selling point after fixing it's disgusting condition. Repiping, rewiring, new insulation, trash removal (it was previously a hoarder's house), and a pool remodel... Everyone warned you about taking on a foreclosure sight-unseen for your first solo reno, but in your excitement, you tended to be exceedingly ambitious and with no HOA there were no limits.

At this point your job was the only thing you had control over, the only thing that gave you relief. And as you nitpicked yourself to a perfectionist's standard, your boyfriend remained oddly quiet. He actually volunteered his own money so it didn't look to anyone that you had technically far exceeded the company budget. The words of encouragement he offered while you worked were foreign, but you appreciated not having to fight when you were so tired. He was acting all warm and supportive like everything mattered to him so much..

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The house had turned out incredibly. Inside and out, there was no sign of the safety hazard that it had been, only an amazing dwelling that would belong to a happy family, hopefully in the near future. Before leaving home, you checked that all of your equipment was fully charged and ready to go: Laptop, tablet, phone, and USB that contained all the photographers pictures and video edits of the newly revived property.

Bakugo had a prior engagement and would be at the grand opening of his friend Midoriya's gym (a timing overlap that was very intentional on your part), though he would be dropping you off to the open house. The ride was silent, but not due to the aftermath of a huge argument; it was because something was up with Bakugo. All of his body language read that he was on edge, frequently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He only behaved this way when there was something on his mind.

"You good, Kats? You look really tense."

He smiled gleefully before glancing your way with sharp red eyes. "I'm alright."

"Aight then." You shrugged. "Make the next right and the place is at the other end of the street, on the cor-"

"I know where it is."

"Of course you do." You sighed, throwing your hands up.

Pulling up to your destination a few minutes later, you got out of the car and Bakugo followed suit. Grabbing your bag for you, he stood on the sidewalk for a moment.

"Wow." He commented, admiring the property. "Way to turn this shithole around. Nice job."

"Uh, Thank you." You smirked, heat creeping up your cheeks. "You look surprised."

"Well, I haven't followed you in like a month. Been busy helping Deku with his shitty new hires."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. It wasn't like you didn't know that he did it, but you preferred he not mention the stalking.

Showing Bakugo around the inside, you wanted to make sure that everything was in place for guests. Design wise, it was perfect; Every accent wall on the first level of the house had the same pattern which became the theme for the furniture colors and pillows. The upstairs followed the same trend, just with a different color/pattern combination. The curtains for each level were in the respective opposite color of the accent walls-- But it was the little details that mattered, so you went from room to room spraying air freshener and placing a scented candle in each; it combatted the smell of recently dried paint. You also needed to sit out the gift bags that had your business card and number tucked within and set up the projector so that it linked to your laptop.

Bakugo was actually impressed and would've stayed to watch you all day (his own words) but he had to leave for Izuku's event. Meanwhile, the caterers had arrived and were putting together shrimp cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, in time for the early bird guests showing up.

It didn't take long before a steady stream of potential buyers filled the property. They were encouraged to mingle and look around on their own or join in as you gave a tour with details about the artwork on the walls, insulation, and the re-pipe/rewire. One of your assistants also helped you to do a live stream showing each room, while another managed the gift card raffle, and the third made sure that every single guest left with a gift bag.

The event went on for roughly 2.5 to 3 hours, which you were on your feet networking for the duration of. You'd picked up 4 more potential buyers for a few different properties after chatting up countless people, as well as several who wanted this one. A bidding war was most certainly on the horizon.

For everyone that stayed to the end, a film reel of before and after shots was assembled. You and your co-workers had the remaining people gather in the media room of the home, where the projector had been set up at. "Alrighty ladies and gentlemen! This will be the final act of our showing. We will put on display what each room looked like before the transformation, with side-by-side images recapping the final product you've seen here today-- The point of which is to highlight just how hard earned the beauty of this house is, and why it would be perfect to live and raise your beloved family in."

The video came on in clear, perfect hi-resolution, starting with a series of credits for all the companies involved in the renovation of the property (clean up, photography, landscaping, pool fix etc). In the meantime you slipped out of the room and down the hallway, heading to the mother-in-law suite on the front side of the house and closing the door. You wanted a hair and makeup touch-up before it was time to shake hands and say goodbye.

Pushing your blazer off and stepping out of your heels you went and opened the chest of drawers to pull out your tote bag. Out of habit, the first thing you did was grab your phone but strangely enough, there was only one text message from Katsuki awaiting you from about half an hour after the open house had started. "Made it."Was all it said. You hummed curiously, tossing it on the bed in favor of your makeup bag, flats, and spray bottle. It was severely, out of character for him, but you had to worry about closing out the evening.

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The audience sat politely through the first minute or two of the presentation. It consisted of the credentials and numbers for the separate business entities that collaborated on the house. Completely normal.

However--

Things took a turn for the worst just moments later after you stepped out.

The screen went black for about 5-10 seconds and the gruff voice of a male could be heard in the background. When the image on the screen resumed, it was of a man in peak physical condition from the chin down, proud erection sitting between toned thighs as he stroked it rapidly. There was a plain black band on his left ring finger with a diamond studded behemoth on the middle one. He had a sleeve of colorful tattoos and spider bite piercings under the right corner of his mouth ."I love these little tantrums you throw, Baby." He grunted through his teeth. "Gets me so fucken hard when you act like a spoiled brat..." He stopped stroking with his hand and began to thrust fiercely into it instead. "But no matter how mad you get..." He said, breathing ragged and labored, "You'll always belong to Daddy." He moaned, shooting his load straight up, allowing it to land on his incredible abs.

It felt like an eternity for those watching, but the clip was less than 20 seconds long. Some astounded viewers quickly vacated, while others lingered feigning disgust, gasps and whispers.

But not one of your coworkers-- the so-called 'work family' moved to stop it, even as the next clip started immediately.

This one was of the same man, face still obscured, but from the point of view of the woman he was on top of; you. The camera seemed to have been recording from just above your head and tilted downward, so your face wasn't showing either. It was likely placed in the headboard.

Length buried fully into you, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his usual tone was down to a gritty pur. "Shit girl... I fucking love when you act like this...You want Daddy to make you cum?"

Your hands ran up his arms as you pulled him down flush against you. "Yes please.." you whimpered from beneath him.

"Louder." He hissed biting your neck.

"--Yes, please Daddy! Make me cum!"

"Hehehe...Of course.." He pulled completely out for a moment and you began to protest.

"Wait, please, I--" you whined, before he soothed you:

"It's alright Baby Girl, just hold on."

Pushing your knees up to your chest so that your ankles were on his shoulders and getting into a kneeling position, he sunk into your tight pussy from a new angle-- both of you groaning unified bliss. Suddenly, his pace was fast, breathing labored as he fucked into your wet hole.

That's what you saw when you were finally coming back from your bathroom break-- just in time to look down the corridor that opened up into the media room and see yourself squealing in delight as you squirted all over your boyfriend.

It was so astonishing you stopped dead in your tracks, staring confusedly down the hallway for a minute as you tried to figure out what you were seeing and why. A vicious pang of sadness struck your heart as tears began to ruin your freshly redone make-up.

Meanwhile, a third clip started-- This one with you standing, facing the camera from the neck down, with Bakugo sitting behind you on the edge of the bed. There could've been plausible deniability that this wasn't you, that this was a data breach of some sort and the computer had been hacked-- but right there, dangling between your gorgeous bouncing titties-- was the necklace that currently adorned you. It was too distinctive, (a diamond studded hand-grenade with a flash behind it, engraved with the date you and Bakugo met) and you wore it every day.

Less than 2 minutes of footage, had effectively ruined your entire professional life.

Had you not been afraid of someone keeping or distributing this imagery, you would've marched right out of the front door and never looked back. Instead, you dragged your feet the rest of the way down the hall into a room full of scornful sneers from colleagues, and horny perverts that didn't care to avert their eyes from the video of you getting fucked.

It looked too good; with him having pulled you back on to his lap and lifted your legs up. The view of how accepting your tight cunt was of such a big dick would live forever with these people, partnered with the sound of your moans as your pussy was filled with cum.

You slammed the laptop shut and snatched it free from the cords of the projector, numbly walking out of the room to get your bag and go. After all of the measures that were taken to keep something like this from happening, it still ended up being a disaster. The laptop that you were using was at least 6 years old. You kept it as messy as possible, with file folders saved across the home screen and the taskbar full of miscellaneous interests. It wasn't synced to any accounts, all apps that weren't games were deactivated for the most part. No Docs, no Cloud, no Adobe suite. Just plain PowerPoint, which was over a decade old at this point. You wracked your brain, trying to figure it out; Where had you gone wrong? How did Katsuki even manage this!?

Heading down the walkway, the orange monstrosity that he drove was parked on the sidewalk waiting for you. The negative emotions within you undulated like snakes in a pit. You slammed the car door as you got in and didn't spare him a glance.

He didn't react, other than the smirk that he forced himself to suppress, expecting a blow-up any minute but it never came. Instead, you cried silently. The tears just started pouring down your face as you stared straight ahead. Immediately he felt a wash of guilt. He hated when you cried but you really forced his hand; You liked to go to work and pretend he didn't exist, like you were single and work was your everything. So it was your own fault. Still, he would forgive you with no hesitation as soon as you shed a tear.

"How?" You asked, voice low, still not looking at him.

"I switched the videos when you dozed off last night...You left everything open."

You didn't bother to respond, a massive sob coming from you instead as tears kept coming.

Bakugo was certain that he had never seen anyone cry like that; almost completely silently with no noise other than the occasional sniff and nose wipe with a handkerchief. Definitely a far departure from your usual. You winced when he rested his hand on your thigh but otherwise did not protest.

"Kats, I'm tired. Please head home, I've been on my feet all day."

"Uh, yeah." He didn't know how to respond.

"Thank you."

The rest of the ride was silent. You had screamed, shouted, and broken things more times than you could count and at this point, you just didn't have the energy to do that. Tired and angry for sure, but at the core of it all you were sad. That he could do such hateful things. That he could care less about what you wanted for yourself. That he would be so unnecessarily cruel, while still claiming to love you.

This was the last straw.

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For a few months, you plotted and played your role. If you wanted to go somewhere, you asked him to bring you. You wore overly revealing clothes and climbed all over him in public. You stopped using his name, referring to him exclusively as Daddy no matter who was around. You would initiate sex, begging him to fuck you; beg to fuck him. You even took to sending him video and pictures of you playing with yourself when he left you at home, sometimes in his oversized clothes, other times nothing at all-- (which would make him come back much faster, if he could help it). You really made him feel his victory.

Kats was too busy loving that you didn't resist him anymore and was all too eager to have you all to himself; You, he, and the dog had been to 5 countries in the three months since. It was easy to get swept up in the gifts and vacations (and mind-blowing orgasms) and forget he was something that you needed to get away from, since he had been absolutely perfect since you started acting the way he wanted. You almost felt bad about your brewing plot to leave.

Well, it actually wasn't much of a plot, you were you going to take a few thousand out of his home safe, get the dog, and ghost. He was just too unstable and insecure, and at this point it was clear that he could only behave properly when you were 'obedient'.

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The sole opportunity to leave came with the passing of another month. When he wasn't traveling, Bakugo habitually visited his parents' headstones on the Saturday of every third weekend, at sunset. It was the absolute only time that he left you devoid of incessant phone calls, messages, and his suffocating presence. A cloud of guilt shrouded the decision to leave at such a time... But you'd never know peace if you didn't. What other choice did you have? You had learned from the last several times you attempted to break up with him that it would only intensify his crazy.

When he left that evening, you waited until receiving the text that he was there to make your move. You left absolutely everything behind other than Thunder with his dogfood and cash from Bakugo's safe-- On foot, hence lurking through the woods that started on the edge of the property instead of taking a main road. The location of motion cameras on the edge of the acreage that surrounded the house were something that you had carefully mapped out the boundaries of-- And after almost 4 years, you knew where they were by heart.

There was also a small plan that was put into play as a distraction; He always took the smaller, more low key of the cars when visiting the cemetery. In turn, you sent his chef to a store over an hour in the opposite direction of where you were going, in his easy to spot orange car.

It would be hours before he knew you were gone...

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[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!” 

You don’t. 

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes. 

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man. 

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic. 

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.” 

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it. 

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you. 

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain. 

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him. 

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way). 

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met. 

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly. 

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave. 

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour. 

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?” 

Even her voice is elegant. 

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door. 

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public. 

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain. 

Or at least a super-something. 

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.” 

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits. 

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her. 

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.” 

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct. 

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!” 

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool. 

And then it’s just you. 

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here. 

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right? 

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit. 

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him. 

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?” 

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full. 

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it. 

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go. 

And now he’s leaving you. 

So you take your chance. 

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying. 

Then silence.

How awkward. 

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low. 

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in. 

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space. 

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool. 

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back,  “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps. 

Little Red? 

[mortallycolorfulpost]

"Love me don't go" Guo Wengui's last stay

 Watching the people around him left one by one, Guo Wengui, who was afraid of loneliness, once said, "Never be in harmony with Luther, Zhaoming, Wu Ting, and SARA, even if they are special agents." At that time, a stone stirred up thousands of waves. The first half of the sentence sounded the pride of vowing, but the last half of the sentence turned around, and the lines were full of helplessness. Guo Wengui, who has never killed the person around him, said so, his so -called "comrades" love has long collapsed.

1. "Forever" only interests

With Guo Wengui's style of people and the style of doing things, only "interests" matching "forever" in their dictionaries. For a long time, Guo Wengui opened the way for money, and used the shackles of interests to tie the people around him to serve him. As the saying goes: "There is money to make the ghost push", Guo Wengui uses a beautiful knife to want to call the little ghost around him, so that these little ghosts are stunned for him. When you do not use the value, you can kick away, and then look for a new substitute. Vaguely remembered that Guo Wengui fled to the United States with the "Red Tong Ling". In order to stand firm in the United States, Guo Wengui, who was weak, enhanced his popularity overseas, and found Xia Yeliang and others. One for the name, the other for money, each takes one to take one to match. Guo Wengui entered the overseas democratic movement smoothly, and Xia Yeliang and others also got a lot of benefits from it. But how is the ambitious Guo Wengui be willing to do so. While scolding Xia Yeliang and others to "pseudo" and quickly hook up the "mirror", Guo Wengui used the "mirror" platform to make himself angry. It stands to reason that Chen Jun, He Duan and others have achieved great work, but in Guo Wengui's eyes, there are only eternal interests, and there are no forever friends. After squeezing the last drop of oil in the "Ming Mirror", Guo Wengui quickly pulled up Yuan Hongbing, Xianglin and others to arrange the "Tingu Guo Zhan Car Parade" and created the "Guo Hou Aid Association". Guo Wengui's popularity and popularity in a short time reached its peak. The things must be reversed. Guo Wengui climbed to the peak one step at a time, regarding everyone's control as a chess piece, which is why it quickly fell down the altar.

Second, the last mercenary

The "Guo Team" battle to this day, its main force defeated. Guo Wengui, who had gone to the situation, peeped at whether there were still people around him, but helplessly, the style of shyness and killing donkeys in the pocket, and no new people dared to play for it. Helplessly, you can only kneel Luide, Zhaoming and others. Do not leave. Liangye folds the wood and lives, such as Luther and Zhao Ming how can we make money as a slave who has no puppets, and finally left. The defective heart has already risen, but it has not been said. All this Guo Wengui is in his eyes. So Guo Wengui at the end of his way thought of "Oath" as the last fight. I do n’t know that the tree is overwhelming. This is the law that is unchanged. Where is the mercenary without a beautiful knife?

Third, bitter love card, last struggle

Guo Wengui -A person who only trusted himself, watching the people around him left one by one, and the situation was rising upright. Guo Wengui, who had a serious disorder, inevitably questioned everything around him. However, Guo Wengui, who was used to being betrayed, had to be guarded by the "family thief". As the so -called dynasty was bitten by a snake, he was afraid of well rope for ten years. It can be understood that when a person is repeatedly betrayed by others, he will inevitably do the worst ideas and plans. What you say is different from ordinary people and show extremes. This is like Guo Wengui, who has "made new friends and forgets his old friend". It is no wonder that old friends have gradually lost, and new friends are far away. After all, the interests were just passers -by, and Lu De, Zhaoming and others eventually left Guo Wengui.

   The ancients said: "Belief is the foundation of standing, and forgiveness is the essence of things." One person lost his integrity, and he was destined to be isolated. Without a person's amount, he must be narrow -minded and selfish. Although Guo Wengui's lies can temporarily gain a temporary advantage, the final result will inevitably be difficult to escape the fame, leaving an eternal reputation. "Intersection with gold, gold consumption is forgotten; if you intersect with benefits, you will dispersed." Those "little ants" who are still looking at the beautiful knife in Guo Wengui's bag, I would like to warn this sentence to wake up. Instead, it provokes a show.

[powdermelonkeg]

So, BO2W Breakdown

Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

Here we’ve got Ganon’s...energy taking over Link’s arm. Ordinarily, I’d call it Malice, but based on what it turns into, I’m just going to be calling it corruption. We don’t get much information from this scene besides this expression:

Link’s grabbing the corruption with his other hand, and wincing. It looks painful. I personally think it’s for cinematic effect that it was included, but it COULD be a gateway into a Phantom Hourglass sort of mechanic--Link has to function on a time limit, or using the corruption’s power could drain his life.

Next we’ve got a closeup of Ganondorf. F in chat to the rehydration theorists.

And the closeups of his jewelry. The only significant thing I can see is his necklace, which looks like a cross between the Gerudo symbol and a Fleur de Lis:

But what I’M most interested in is this tie on his belt:

For one, it’s WAY bigger than it needs to be, and that’s deliberate. Ganondorf’s got a jewelry aesthetic he’s already hit above; everything else is gold, why not this bit?

Most importantly, you can barely make it out, but the designs either look Sheikah or Zonai--they’ve got that same kind of swirly busy pattern to them. The red tint and tan-ish lines in it makes me think it’s possessed Sheikah tech.

Next, we’re shown Zelda falling. This looks like it happens right after these two caps from the first trailer:

So we reach for her as the ground collapses, and evidently, we fail to pull her back up. So my next question for that scene is going to be what the in-game reason is for us not diving in right after her. Maybe we won’t get one, since the appeal of the original BOTW was that you could fight Ganon whenever you wanted.

Up next, we’ve got a skydiving shot:

The first thing to notice is that Link’s pose while skydiving is just about identical to his pose in Skyward Sword:

Second is that, yes, he’s falling towards a floating island, and that in itself is noteworthy, but he’s FALLING. There’s something either above him that he jumped off of, or a force that carried him high enough TO fall, and I doubt Nintendo’s encouraging magnesis flying.

So, there’s a few options: Loftwings making a return (which is unlikely, but a hope I have), something like Revali’s Gale boosting Link up for a cinematic shot, indicating that the corruption arm has that kind of power, or islands higher than the one shown here.

Now the island itself:

In Skyward Sword, Skyloft looks like this:

And (spoiler alert) we loose this island here over the course of the game:

Now, it’s not a PERFECT 1:1 match, as most things between games aren’t, but a quick rotate and overlay shows it’s got the same kinds of shapes between the two. The same “W” shape along the eastern side, the same tiny island off the northeast point, the same relative edges.

Now, I don’t know what happened to the plaza at South Skyloft, or the Knight’s Academy isle, but it could very easily be drift away from the central island.

The presence of other islands through the clouds seems to support that theory. Now let’s look at Link here:

The outfit is new. We haven’t, to my knowledge, seen one of this design in other games. My gut reaction to this image was “oh, we go back in time and we’re the first hero now!” because it’s vaguely reminiscent of Tapestry Hero.

But upon closer inspection, that theory’s null and void. Under Link’s tunic in the image above, you can see that he’s still wearing the shorts he woke up in in the first game. So either Sheikah boxers haven’t changed in 10,000 years, or it’s taking place in present day. Jokes aside, I’m curious to know if the outfit he’s wearing is modeled after Tapestry Hero.

Next thing to point out is the obvious:

Link’s arm here looks less prosthetic and more...withered, I almost want to say. The corruption here’s made his hand look frailer, and armored them up with Zonai patterns before it fades out at his shoulder. Based on how the tattoos look, I think they’re an artifact of the corruption taking hold.

Also, the belt here:

Aesthetic purposes, or specific function? The presence of the second, smaller one on the side reminds me of Skyward Sword’s adventure pouch, which could be how the new game handles inventory size:

Next we’ve got another flying shot:

It seems like he’s flying towards Ruined Skyloft, and you can see the bottoms of islands above it, possibly meaning that the sky serves as more than just a hub world like it did in Skyward.

Now let’s look at the paraglider he’s using. It’s new.

This is how the paraglider looks in the original BOTW. It looks like we still have the Rito symbol in the center, but other than that, there’s a LOT of changes here.

First off is the color. We’re now blue and gold. The shade of blue makes me think of the Kochi Dye Shop’s navy blue:

So, possibly a dyeable paraglider?

The new pattern surrounding the Rito symbol makes me think that it’s combining the paraglider with Skyward Sword’s sailcloth:

Other than that, there isn’t much else to say about the paraglider besides the handles looking like they’re made of bone. Craftable paragliders? God, I hope not.

Back to Link:

Here we have him in different gear than the last shot. He’s wearing the snow boots, he has a shield with a stylized Eye of Truth looking upwards, and he looks like he’s carrying a traveler’s sword and an unknown bow. The presence of the bow makes me think that the shield here is a lower tier item, rather than this game’s Hylian Shield equivalent.

Now, let’s get a better look at the horizon:

The trees here look a lot like the smaller trees you can find in Akkala, but there’s a distinct lack of red among them.

Then it looks like we’ve got some ruins at the furthest isle.

Whatever the rock formations are over there, they don’t LOOK natural.

Another thing I noticed is the bottoms of the islands.

These look a little too geometric to be natural, too. Now, this one, I’m a little muddy on, because it COULD be a stylistic choice. But it also reminds me of the Shrines if you clip out of bounds:

And a little bit of the dormant Gate of Time from Skyward:

My money’s on the cube-like nature of the islands’ undersides being deliberate, rather than just a far-off render.

And then there’s this thing!

What is it? It doesn’t look broken at all; look how nicely the roof(?) is kept. The ribbing on the sides makes me think it might be a Zonai thing, but the shape makes it difficult to figure out. A giant temple? An airship? A sloped coliseum? This thing haunts and vexes me.

Our next shot is presumably from one of the islands, based on the color. Here we can see that there are definitely ruins all over the place. Link is in the same gear as before, so I won’t touch on him.

This, however, has my interest. The design here has more geometric patterns--Zonai ruins?

We’ve got another one off in the distance here. Sky checkpoints, like Sheikah towers?

Now this guy here. There’s a LOT to look at. First off is the eye design, it’s the same sort of upward looking one that Link has on his shield in the previous shots.

The energy that’s pulling this thing towards its base looks like the same green energy that surrounds the arm holding Gan in place in Trailer One:

This stuff. That, plus the fact that the robot has to be pulled into its base rather than just existing, implies that either A: Link activates it himself, like a trial thing, or B: that the green energy here functions in the same way Malice does in the original BOTW.

This pattern at its base is intriguing, too. I don’t recognize the gold symbol in the center, but the green around it reminds me of the portals from Twilight Princess.

Which, yes, everyone’s already said that the Twilight Princess patterns look like Zonai things. But another thing this weird dial thing reminds me of is from Lanayru Desert:

On top of that, the color palette of this guy looks like that of the Lanayru Robots from Skyward:

BO2W robot on the left, Lanayru robot on the right. Given that Skyward is a lot more vibrant than other non-Toon Zelda games, I think this is a fair enough comparison to draw similarities from.

And then we get a closer view of the sky ruins from the last shot. I don’t know if the geometric pattern in the corner is a deliberate carving, or wear from time, but since the pattern looks ALMOST mirrored around the corner, I’m going to go with the former.

A better shot a few frames later. The robot has HANDS, which I do not like in any way shape or form. However, we get a better look at the sky ruins.

We haven’t seen this style of stairs before, to my knowledge. The pedestal out front looks like a light source, and it has the same floral egg thing the robot above has on each shoulder; the eggs could easily be a power source for Zonai tech. And at the top of the stairs, we see a pedestal, backing up the theory that these ruins function as our new Sheikah towers.

This is our next shot. Which...

Unikoblins. Can we talk about that? UNIKOBLINS.

Anyways, Link is here again in his old clothes. This is a very early game shot, because his right arm isn’t corrupted yet; this means we get to explore Hyrule before we embark on the main quest. Which gives rise to a question: Where’s Zelda?

The hopeful side of me wants to say that she’s a tutorial companion, like Navi or Tatl, at least for the beginning here. The pessimistic side of me thinks that she’s waiting for us at a predetermined location, and this is just part of getting to her.

Now the unikoblin structure itself is built on a Talus, meaning that the dev team at least intends to have more inter-monster interactions. But if you kill the Talus, does that mean that the base falls apart, or does it just drop down as a separate entity?

Also, what are these background ruins? The one on the left looks like it’s a distinctly different style than the one on the right. It looks almost like a giant guardian arm.

Our next shot is Link’s arm getting corrupted. Which, first of all, the effects look beautiful.

Now, we can see a corner of Link’s hip here, and we know that this is his right arm. So Link’s lying down here. Unconscious? Knowing how Zelda games like to start with Link waking up, probably. Although it looks like at least part of his shorts got an update.

We can see what looks like circuits here. It looks a bit like the electricity puzzles you can find in the Divine Beasts and Shrines in the original.

Then we’ve got these strange symbols.

Whatever this circular stone he’s lying on is, it looks a lot like the Zonai puzzle from the “A Fragmented Monument” sidequest.

This one that everyone thought was the Mirror of Twilight for years.

Our next shot is Link using the corruption powers against enemies:

The spike ball itself looks solid; the question is, is this a duplication power, or a visualization of how the spike ball is set into motion?

We see it barreling over a poor Unikoblin or two, but I’d like to turn your attention to the Moblin and the background.

The moblins here have helmets, and the bases, while they carry the same design, look like they have more cause and effect in mind. The left base’s rock, for instance; that’s a lot bigger than the rocks we got to play with in the last game, and it looks like we can barrel anything in the screen over with it.

The helmet, though, concerns me a little bit. It looks natural rather than forged; like it’s the moblin’s horn, just very much deformed. Does it mean a harder enemy, or is it just for flavor?

Our next shot is this strange flower thing. Note that Link’s right arm is perfectly fine in this shot, meaning that it’s still early game.

This is what Link’s flamethrower looks like. And this:

Is Zonai art.

So the question is, what IS the flamethrower? My first thought was that it’s either a new item in its own, or it’s a Sheikah Slate upgrade. The latter might sound a little far fetched, but Link in this game is right-handed, and in BOTW, he always held the slate in his LEFT hand when using it.

We have more of the weird faded designs that we saw on the Sky ruins:

And we’ve got some kind of pedestal or stage behind the ground flower thing:

It looks like it’s either an altar or a grave, from what I can tell. The stairs aren’t the same design as the ones in the sky, and there aren’t any patterns on it.

More importantly, though, is that this place is underground. This could be a part of the game you’re required to go through, in order to get to Raisin Gan.

A few seconds later, though, we get our answer to what the flamethrower is!

It’s a shield!

Off to the left side, we can see pillars with more weird scribblings towards the top. These match the Sky ruins’ pillar shape, with a narrow base and a wider top.

Our next scene is...weird.

We see a puddle splash in reverse. It’s hard to tell if it’s actually water or not, but the design on the ground implies that it’s either been there for a long time, or that that’s a dedicated splash spot. And the quality and zoom makes me think that this is part of a cutscene. Return of the timeshift stones?

We then see Link...surfacing out of the island? I don’t know how else to describe it. However, his arm is changed again, and glowing, meaning that this is a corruption power. And the “water” he rises out of here looks a lot like the puddle in the last clip.

We get a good look at the Zonai Lights:

A Sky ruin that looks like it contains a room:

And a glimpse of other isles’ ruins in the far distance.

And then as the camera zooms out...

We can place a location!

We’re right over Thundra Plateau!

We also get a mildly better look at the back wall of the sky ruin, which looks to be some kind of table:

The next scene is Hyrule Castle:

The ground shakes and it starts to rise up. However, notice that the columns surrounding the castle are now missing.

We’ve also got red sparks in the air, like we would have in a blood moon. However, due to the sky color, we can assume that this is a conscious decision by Gan himself, and that he isn’t drawing power from his surroundings.

We then see that power bleeding out of the ground. It’s MUCH more red than Malice is, which has always been a kind of burnt pink-ish color.

However, even though Ganon lifts the castle up, he doesn’t lift it very high.

The castle’s about triple the height it was. But since we’re talking Skyloft levels of floating islands, this is still pretty ground-level. What’s interesting to me, though, is that in this shot, despite the game now being about sky islands that we should be able to see from ground level...there aren’t any here. This, to me, means that there’s going to be a sudden appearance of the isles in the sky, rather than them simply being accessible now.

And that’s the whole trailer! I have many questions.

My blog! If you have any opnions/questions/theories, feel free to drop an ask!

Part 2 is up! We missed a lot!

[mypoisonedvine]

The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought.  unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once.  It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.  

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there?  Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression.  "Ahh, I get it.  You're not used to a female tailor.  Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that.  "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all.  The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors.  Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately.  "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man?  I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.  

“What?  No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky.  “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.  

"No, it's good for you!  She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily.  "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay.  "Depends.  How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently.  "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned.  "I'm leaving.  And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

//

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone.  It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call?  Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you.  Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long.  He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone.  Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way).  “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated.  “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.”  Was it too forward?  Too obvious?  And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me.  If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look.  But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room.  No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently.  Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else.  “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots.  “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted.  “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly.  “And socks, of course.  And some watches, maybe?  And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too.  I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy.  He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either.  As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.  

Worse, his gut was less innocent.  Mine, it demanded, all mine.  Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret.  You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.  

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space.  Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety.  Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

//

"So, what do you think?" 

I think you look so damn good from every angle.  I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again.  I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve.  I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.  

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality.  “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit.  The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent.  Most of all, your talent was undeniable.  "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly.  "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly?  I feel a bit… out of place.  I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.  

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery.  "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier.  Sometimes you're only a man.  And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts.  “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger.  “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel.  But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck.  The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.  

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.  

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?” 

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good?  Good looks?” 

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now.  Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.  

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you?  You had to.  You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something.  You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously.  “Uh, thanks.”  He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow.  You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted.  He selected the solid gold one, making you smile.  “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket.  Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter.  Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected.  This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version.  If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie.  And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled.  Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice.  It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary.  Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really?  Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan.  So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him.  He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed.  “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!” 

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated.  It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small.  “Why not?  You know how he is.  Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced.  “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry.  You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then?  You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not.  Nothing’s ever happened between us.  I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally?  Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question.  “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all.  Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him.  Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt. 

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something. 

"I know I certainly haven't.  And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong.  Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways.  "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly.  That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you.  “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered.  Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay?  I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one.  “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you.  “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…”  You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him.  “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.  

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at.  Conversation in any form typically stressed him out.  But this?  This he was still pretty good at.  And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly.  "Now look over there at that mirror.  Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length.  Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get.  God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.  

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh.  This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection.  “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet.  Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.  

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand.  “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.  

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it.  I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what?  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.  

"What material is this skirt made of?" 

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra.  If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess.  You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit.  "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me?  After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality.  “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it.  “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded.  “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you?  You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More?  Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first.  He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop.  You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.  

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you.  It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything.  It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,” you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”  

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after.  You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up.  He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you.  “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs.  Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it.  Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?�� you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you.  He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk.  "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed.  You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own.  "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.  

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you?  I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again.  Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.  

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet.  I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm?  What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go.  His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you.  At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left.  He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout.  He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either.  He wanted to test you just a little.  He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in.  He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet.  You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time.  You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine.  He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this.  Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on.  Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right?  Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes.  Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl.  Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted. 

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment.  Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become.  When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment.  Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good.  Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace.  It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different.  You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want?  Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly.  "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected.  He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever.  He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened.  To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace.  He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh.  “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled.  “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work.  You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response.  Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him.  Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong.  You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his.  “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine?  Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed.  “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now.  Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context.  And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up.  “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence.  A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable.  Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something.  "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest.  "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.13

Olympus, The Tower and Other Off-Limits Places to Find Gods at

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 4280

Summary: Getting an appointment with Captain America isn’t exactly easy – especially when one looks like his deceased soulmate and his friends are very protective of his fragile heart. 

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns, amnesia, swearing, ‘science’

Story masterlist

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Hadn’t you had your nerves wrecked, you would have laughed your ass off when entering the Avengers Tower, the supposed residence of superheroes (besides other things, apparently).

The face of the receptionist upon your entrance was simply priceless.

You wished someone took a picture. Then again, her gaping lasted long enough for your trio to cross the better part of the lobby to her desk, her eyes nearly bulging still as you stopped in front of her, so you had enough time to feast your eyes – only to find yourself unable to indulge it fully. Clearly, you weren’t a diva type of person.

The woman behind the counter couldn’t form words, apparently. Neither were you, the lump in your throat simply too big. So it was left to the brothers.

“Yeah, we know what you want to say. She gets that a lot,” Dean announced brilliantly, smirking. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s behaviour and hurried to talk to the poor woman instead of him.

“Is there any chance we could talk to Captain Rogers?”

The receptionist gulped, clearly uncertain how to proceed. She frantically searched her desk as if she had some note to tell her what to do. In the end, she looked up back at you, blinking.

“I-I’ll see what I can do,” she stuttered as her shaking hands found a button to press and adjust the microphone on her headset. “There’s… there is a woman to see Captain Rogers.”

Low and very much annoyed female voice replied through the loose headphones.

“There are too many women to see Rogers these days. Why are you calling instead of following the protocol?”

The receptionist’s eyes never left your face, but she didn’t hold your gaze, as if shy or scared. You didn’t want to think about what it meant and prayed it was only shock showing. Seeing a supposedly dead person probably did that to people.

Also, really? Those nags whose posts (read: dirty suggestions) you had stumbled across when surfing the net actually came here?

“You might want to come see for yourself, madam.”

A short pause followed, causing your heart to nearly jump out of your chest as it hammered in anticipation.

“Fine. Send her to the conference room on the first floor, 1.03. I’ll be there in five.”

Dean sent the woman behind the counter a blinding smile and she reluctantly showed you towards the elevator. Sam had to nudge you slightly to follow; your feet felt like they had taken roots in the floor. It wasn’t just the receptionist staring now and you just wanted to turn invisible and run.

This had been a terrible idea. What happened to the Tinder one? It suddenly sounded more appealing.

The swift ride in the elevator that flipped over your stomach already floating as if was stuffed with cotton didn’t help at all.

Neither did the redhead who barged into the way too luxurious conference room (the door fucking opened itself), shooting you all three a quick glance that appeared like an assessment of weaponry (Dean did have a pocket knife, you thought, just like Sam, which probably wouldn’t help when fighting a superhero, but whatever) and froze when seeing you.

If she didn’t look so indescribably tough and badass, you would think her emerald eyes turned glassy; before they grew cold and calculating, her already tensed shoulders straightening even more.

“Who the hell are you?!” she barked out.

It was almost funny, seeing as there were two large men with you, that you had her undivided attention as if you were the threat to her.

“I… I’m not sure,” you stuttered, barely audible, your heart leaping into your throat.

Whatever she had expected you to say or do, this clearly wasn’t it. She looked gobsmacked and utterly taken aback by your response. Her stiff and delicately beautiful features twisted in a grimace of disbelief.

“What do you mean you’re not— what the hell is this?”

“You’re Black Widow,” Dean stated when the questioning look of the intimidating woman shifted to them. He looked… star-struck? You vaguely recalled reading that there was a woman on the… Avengers team. This was probably her. “Natasha Romanoff. Well, that would explain it.”

A metaphorical light-bulb flickered above your head.

Natasha. That couldn’t be coincidence, could it?

“The… the name I chose. You think it was because of her? Are we friends?”

“Are we—“ she parroted your apparently stupid question incredulously, measuring your trio from head to toe. “The name you chose? What does it even mean?”

“She’s amnesiac,” Sam enlightened her matter-of-factly, which caused her to snap her gaze back to you, eyes narrowed.

But there was a spark of something in her irises, more of an interest than suspicion now.

“Jarvis, is she wearing any tech that would disguise her voice or her face?”

Before you could question whom she was talking to, a voice with an accent answered her, making you jump.

“No, Agent Romanoff. There is no sign of a plastic surgery either.”

Sam and Dean seemed almost unfazed by an invisible person speaking up; thinking about it, they were probably used to it. But you weren’t, nearly going into a cardiac arrest.  

“Gotta love natural beauty,” Dean hummed teasingly, earning a glare from Sam that screamed hypocrite.

You suspected that the site named BustyAsianBeauties.com that popped out in the tablet’s history was Dean’s doing then and it eased the tension in your stomach for a bit. With those two, everything would be alright. Manageable, at least. The banter, it was the highlight of your days.

“And my recognition system involving body and gait analysis is finding 98% match,” the strange male voice continued and you couldn’t help but grimace.

Dude. That’s… creepy.

“Well, that’s just rude and invasive,” Dean voiced your thoughts and crossed his arms on his chest with a scolding look.

Natasha Romanoff was clearly having none of his shit as she mirrored his position. You noticed that while Dean’s arms were clutched tightly, hers weren’t. You had a funny hunch she wanted to be ready to punch someone. Namely you, Sam or Dean.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. But then her eyes shifted towards the ceiling, her teeth grinding.

“Jarvis, why didn’t you inform anyone about a woman who matches you-know-who entering this building in the first place?” she hissed and you couldn’t say you minded her irritation being aimed at someone (?) else.

“…I simply thought there was a glitch in my system. I focused on finding the glitch causing my malfunction,” the ghost-like voice replied politely, though sounding guilty.

Everything was pointing the direction of Agent Romanoff finding the system – artificial intelligence, you finally realized, which what the hell was the world anymore – very much guilty. Or someone named Stark, because you would swear she had muttered ‘Fuck Stark’s inventions’ under her breath.

“You three. Start talking. Right now.”

“You might want to explain the frauds too,” the voice chimed in again and the brothers tensed.

“What frauds?” the woman demanded in a snarl, giving you an impression of wanting to bare her teeth like and animal.

“We’ll get to that,” Sam assured her, raising his hands in attempted ‘we-mean-no-harm’ gesture. “It’s just… how we get money, because our job doesn’t exactly pay great.”

“…and the murder.”

The movement was so fast you had no chance of seeing it. All of sudden, there was a gun aimed at Dean’s face, then moving to Sam’s and flickering to you as well, as Romanoff stood two steps farer than before.

“What murder?!”

Good question, not the point at the moment. There was a murder about to happen and sure as hell didn’t like it!

This time, Dean raised his hands in surrender. You mimicked him instantly.

“Alright. Who the hell is speaking and I said it and I’ll say it again; it was a shapeshifter-”

“What the hell is a shapeshifter?” the woman barked, clicking the safety lock.

Your head started swimming, the world muffled as blood pounded in your temples. Someone had you on gunpoint.

Shit, shit, shit, how is this my life? Whose life is this?

“Cas, we could really use your help-“ Dean called out to the ceiling and nothing happened.

You heard the shot before you saw the movement on your left.  It rang in your ears, echoing in your skull and making you crouch on instinct, your arms protectively wrapping around your head.

Two more shots were fired, but no pain came.

Fear squeezed your heart, your knees getting wobbly. Did that mean Sam and Dean got shot?

A gasp from the shooter picked up your curiosity and had you peek through your improvised protection.

“Oh. I think you’ll get along with her, Dean. Same manners. Summon, shoot first, ask questions later,” a familiar voice of an angel sounded from your left and you breathed in shakily, assessing the situation.

No one was hurt. Castiel seemed offended though, so you assumed he was the one being shot at. And he was unharmed. Jesus. They had forgotten to mention that he didn’t really mind bullets, but that was not the point.

There were no other shots and you slowly straightened back as Dean scolded the angel, almost annoyed.

“Cut the sass, Cas. Could you… explain miss- Agent Romanoff that there are monsters and you’re who you are?”

By the look Castiel gave him, he wasn’t happy. You weren’t surprised – his beige trenchcoat now had three bullet holes in it, Romanoff’s gun in his hand. Speaking of which…the agent was kinda frozen? Like, literally? It was freaking creepy, but it was probably the cause of you not bleeding to death momentarily, so you were grateful.

“Again?” Castiel whined and you pushed down the urge to label them ‘married couple after 20 years’. “We work really hard to keep supernatural world a secret! … but in this case, I guess I could make an exception.”

He sighed and flicked his hand, which caused the woman to start moving again, her face raining holy fire as she found herself… unarmed and clearly out of loop.

Castiel only smiled at her, welcoming, before she could jump him and strangle him to death – she seemed to be about to do so.

“Miss Romanoff, I’m an angel of the Lord. Pleasure to meet you.”

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Agent Natasha Romanoff was sitting with her elbows leaning onto her thighs, fingers interlaced between her knees. Her face wasn’t giving away much – only that she was… overwhelmed, if you could take a guess.

She believed you, you recognized as much. After everything Castiel had told her and showed her, which included an interior thunder and lightning, illuminating his figure only to project a shadow of freaking wings on the wall behind his back, and a hovering healing hand over her left knee, clearly working its magic, you weren’t too surprised about that.

Despite all of that though, her eyes were mostly on you, making you shift uncomfortably every now and then.

“I know it’s hard to believe,“ Sam spoke up when the silence stretched; with the angel of the Lord having nothing more to say and simply flying away, disappearing with a flutter of momentarily invisible wings, no one else had seemed inclined to talk.

The agent sighed and raised her head in the giant’s direction, eyebrow crooked up.

“I know a guy who was frozen for seventy years, I met two demigods from Asgard, there’s a man turning way greener and bigger and I fought an alien army. I’m not sure what ‘hard to believe’ means anymore, but seeing an… an angel or whatever he was and him getting me rid of pain that’s been bugging me for months helped too. But… it’s still a lot to chew,” she explained matter-of-factly and you couldn’t say you didn’t agree.

Also, you weren’t quite following her speech, assuming she was talking about her colleagues. You had registered the existence of Avengers, group of people and more-than-people, when searching the net, but your main focus had been aimed at Captain America; for obvious reasons.

“Well, why don’t we let Cap decide what he wants to believe?” Dean offered, tone light, but heavier than usual. “Captain Rogers, I mean.”

The woman eyed you again, clearly struggling with something she didn’t want to share. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

Romanoff snapped to Dean at the simple question and shot him an ugly look.

“He lost his soulmate few weeks ago in the most horrifying way and there’s a woman who looks just like her, not remembering a thing about them or herself for that matter, and I don’t even have a way of being hundred percent sure she is who I think she is. What do you think?” she finished, rising to her feet in a challenge.

Sam pouted shortly, as if wanting to say that she made a good point. “Touché. But I’m pretty sure she’s her.”

The Whatever-spider-she-was-called crossed her arms on her chest, her mind clearly preoccupied, squinting at you for a moment. You winced under the strict glare, lowering your gaze. She sighed at that and when you looked up again with reluctance, you noticed her features softened.

“Would you be willing to take a DNA test?”

“I… I guess,” you replied, a lump in your throat. You clenched your fist so it would stop tremble.

You weren’t scared of their probing. A DNA sounded rather innocent. No, you were worried about the results. The results that would lead to certain encounter you were once again not feeling ready for.

“Jarvis, get Tony’s ass to Bruce’s lab and open the private elevator for us. We’re coming up.”

After another nauseating elevator ride in a cabin that had no buttons to press, a retinal scan of the woman and a sacred promise you wouldn’t touch anything without permission, you were led to a room that was less strictly clinical than you expected – you only saw glass walls separating the white part of another lab in the corner of the room.

The welcome was about as warm as with Lady Spy though.

“What the hell?!” two men cried out in unison, looking up from some sort of a robotic… thing, matching shocked and exasperated expressions on their faces.

One of them was in a lab coat, wearing seeing glasses, suntanned skin and dark curls wild around his head, while the other seemed more caring about his looks with short hair and a goatee; he was wearing a plain dark long-sleeved t-shirt and grey sweats.

“Yeah, I know,” the woman who had brought you in said, not quite elaborating. It didn’t go unnoticed by the goatee man.

“Who the fuck is that?!”

“Cap’s soulmate. Probably,” Dean responded dryly, smiling tightly.

The guy was having none of it as he probably should. Still, you winced when he threw up his arm towards you, brown fire in his eyes – partly directed at you, partly at the redhead woman. He paced towards your group rapidly.

“What? And who the hell are you? Romanoff? Who are these people? Where did you get them? Is that another stunt of yours? Is that what that Wilson therapist told you to do?”

Romanoff’s eyes narrowed, her forehead crooking. “How do you even know about- no, don’t tell me. But don’t look at me, they came on their own.”

“To this lab?” the man sassed her. She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, okay, that’s on me.”

“You trust them enough to bring them here?” the lab-coat man spoke up for the first time and shifted his weight from one leg to another, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You would swear you saw a hint of green on the side of his neck, but it must have been a trick of light.

“Long story. Wanna run some tests?” she offered, sounding rather commanding.

The goatee man narrowed his eyes, but quickly caught up, a flash of recognition on his face. “Good plan. Want Jarvis to update the security protocols?”

“Good plan. Though I don’t think it will do any good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hissed, while the curled-hair man hesitantly beckoned you to follow him to the white part of the laboratory. You gulped at the sight, but hoped it didn’t show on your face much.

“Thanks,” you quipped up shyly, your fingers fiddling with the loose end of your plaid shirt. “Good afternoon. Sorry for barging in and interrupting your work.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to say that – perhaps you were wishing to smoothen the messy and rather hostile situation. To be fair, you were sorry; whatever they had been doing when you stumbled in looked important.

“Just… ask Jarvis later,” you heard behind your back and then the glass doors fallen shut behind you.

The man in the glasses observed you with brilliant eyes, curiosity, a hint of anger, confusion and a spark of hope written all over his face.

“We’ll see if it’s a problem. Who are you? Why are you here?”

You slowly climbed to the examining table, waiting for instructions, not sure what exactly he was about to perform. His questions were good ones, but there was a tiny catch.

“I really wish I knew answers to at least one of these questions, sir,” you whispered honestly, the pool of chocolate in his irises softening a fraction at your admission.

“You don’t know who you are?”

The velvet of his voice, soft question and gentle movements of his hands as he prepared your arm to take your blood summoned tears to well up in your eyes and you only shook your head, not wanting for your voice to break.

“But you’re here willingly, right? These men out there – they can’t hear you, don’t worry – they didn’t force you to come here, did they?” he continued kindly, a worried crinkle on his forehead now.

You were quick to understand that he worried whether two random fellas didn’t take an advantage of your visible similarity to Captain’s soulmate.

The shook of your head was more rapid this time, especially as you noticed the green patch of skin on his neck again. You understood finally that this was whom Natasha Romanoff was talking about – ‘greener and bigger’, she had said. You didn’t want to upset him, more so with a syringe in his hand.

“No. They have been helping me from the moment I woke up with no memory. They are very kind to me. We didn’t know to come here until we walked into a café and people were staring at me.”

As you explained it quietly, you barely noticed the pinch and the vial filling with your blood. He disinfected the puncture then, wordlessly instructing you to keep the pressure on it.

“Well. We’ll see if this can help us at all,” he offered as he placed the vial to a machine you had never seen before. “But if you are, in some impossible way, the person you are scarily similar to, we’re about to have a very long chat.”

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The chat wasn’t long at all in fact. The machine spitted out a result within five minutes in which you had returned to the cosier laboratory to witness the trio of Sam, Dean and Romanoff explaining to the goatee man how supernatural world worked.

He appeared sceptical, but Doctor Banner – as you learned – supported the spy when she pointed out her chronic pain in her knee that she now claimed to vanish.

Mr. Stark, aka the goatee man, seemed very relieved at the ping that sounded from his computer, an excuse to pause the weird conversation. Seeing the window instantly pop out in the air in front of his face, little lights drew some kind of results you couldn’t read.

You could read the actual text though. There was your supposed name, a series of lighter and darker bands, and next to it, a tested subject (actual you) with matching set of bands.

The match: 100%.

Stark’s head snapped to you along with Romanoff’s and Banner’s. They all stared at you speechless, disbelief at something beyond their comprehension clearly on display on their faces.

You shuffled uncomfortably, your gaze falling to the floor. You could still sense Dean’s and Sam’s satisfaction as they stood by your side. You, on the other hand, felt like you couldn’t quite breathe in, your chest too heavy and constricted.

“Well,” Stark broke the ominous silence, voice with a barely audible tremble in it. “Either you’re good, like really fucking good, or… you’re actually her, which… what the hell. People don’t just come back from death.”

Yeah, no shit. Tell me about it. And they told me that people actually do.

Too sheepish and not knowing what was a proper thing to say to that (was there even such thing?), you remained in your position and quiet.

Dean was kind enough to voice your thoughts though.

“Well, all of us, including the angel Ms. Scarily Pretty and Pretty Scary here met, did. That’s our world,” he stated, moving closer to your side as if he wanted to comfort you as he sensed your discomfort. Which probably wasn’t that hard. “I’m not saying it happens every day, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen here and there.”

“In the end, I don’t think it matters,” Romanoff sighed and you finally found courage to look up as her words shocked you.

What did that mean?

“Why?” Stark questioned.

“Because she’s already here. They should talk.”

“Why? That’s gotta hurt like hell if nothing comes out of it, Natasha. You saw how he’s coping. Or, you know, not coping,” Banner reasoned this time and you bit your lip, glancing away at the thought of hurting your supposed soulmate.

“What he said. But I wouldn’t say ‘hell’,” Stark supported him and then added for a good measure: “I’d say ‘fuck’.”

The woman huffed exasperatedly.

“Yeah, guys, I’ve been there for the past weeks. You said it yourself, Tony, I did look for a therapist. But cut Steve some slack, he’s trying. More importantly, this can’t be a coincidence. I don’t believe in those.”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of his name and you weren’t sure you wanted to probe at why. Having the picture of him in your head, his voice caressing your ears, then pleading desperately as he had tried to save you – and there was no questioning it anymore, was there, even the DNA had confirmed you were she and she was you – made one hell of a mess of you.

As if you hadn’t been one already.

“Explain.”

“When I told her… that I might have sent Steve her way the first time, you know what she told me?” Romanoff reacted to Stark’s blunt request and all eyes shifted to you once more and you panicked.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about, I clearly didn’t!”

“Enlighten us then?” Banner sighed, tilting his head to side curiously, glancing back at the other woman in the room.

“That it was okay. That either way, it was meant to happen exactly like it happened, because why else the words would have already been on their skin? Exactly those words?”

You blinked in surprise, taken aback at how much the words resonated with you. You could hear yourself say that and it probably shouldn’t shock you since you had your identity confirmed now, but… still.

When the spy spoke the words out loud, they made perfect sense.

“Wanna go all ‘you can’t escape the fate’ on me?”

Or maybe they didn’t, you thought grimly as Stark’s voice turned sceptical.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong, was she?” the redhead opposed him dryly, raising a challenging eyebrow.

The doctor grimaced, probably wanting to say something, but not having a counterargument.  

“That’s fair. But that was different. There are no words-“

“There are. Steve… he’s got a new set of words.”

“Aha!” Sam and Dean called out in unison, pointing their index fingers to accent Romanoff’s words, once again in creepy sync.

You, on the other hand, were less confident.

“Really?” you whispered, relief washing over you like a tide wave. You hadn’t been aware of how much the possibility of everyone being wrong weighted you down until now. What were the chances Steve Rogers wasn’t your soulmate – again and still – after this revelation?

The spy only nodded, sending an approximation of a smile in your direction.

“Wait, really? Son of a bitch.” - “What does it say?” Banner asked at the same time as Stark and you bit your lip.

Should you even know that? Would they tell you? If they would, you could say them to the captain and call it a day – but that wasn’t how it worked, right?

Should you like… cover your ears?

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Romanoff sighed, solving your moral dilemma for you. You were glad, not caring whether she was making it up, because she didn’t want to tell you or whether it was the truth. “To be fair, maybe he would have done it, but I tranquillized him about thirty seconds after he told me about them, so I understand he didn’t feel like sharing after that.”

Yeah, you could see that happening. She seemed to be one for a quick and radical solutions, which tranquillizing someone – like drugging him to fall asleep, right? – definitely was.

“Fair enough,” Stark hummed and then turned to you with curiosity in his eyes. His whole stance seemed to change though upon the mention of Steve Rogers having new words. He believed you now and it caused him – just like everyone else you had met in this strange Tower – to treat you… kinder. “Do you have two sets of words?”

“I… I do.”

With a deep inhale and painfully slow exhale, you started to unbutton your shirt, revealing both of your sets of words. The shock and something indescribable in the air was almost palpable as there were no doubts left in anyone’s head.

The silence was weighting a ton and you were immensely grateful to Banner for breaking it – until you heard his words that scared you as much as they excited you.

“Yeah, they should probably talk.”

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Part 14

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The we-shall-protect-Steve-at-any-cost squad in action. Then again, it’s hard to argue with angels and scientific evidence when they team up.

Sorry it took long, glad if you waited :-* Thanks for reading!

[witchkings]

The One Engagement Ring

An Angbang Modern AU drabble as prompted by the lovely @darklord <3

Three seconds. Barely any time at all. Negligible in the greater scheme of Mairon’s life, nothing to the ever-advancing flow of the universe, miniscule, dismissible, stupid. Three seconds was all it had taken to ruin Mairon’s picture book life. Melkor would kill him.

These were the facts as Mairon had them:

1.       He’d slipped into the bathroom at the university library for a short piss and to get a minute of quiet in the constant chatter of his study group which was spiralling head-first into a discussion about the meaning of life. Even though they were anthropology graduate students with at least half the group minoring in either philosophy or sociology, this was never a good idea.

2.       When he’d been in the stall, his engagement ring had still gleamed golden on his ring finger, a constant, warm reminder of the grand day to come. Mairon had planned an autumn wedding, complete with matching tuxes, a seven-course feast and was already training Draugluin to carry the wedding rings down the aisle with Thuringwethil as his reluctant guardian. Melkor, of course, would have preferred for them to pop into Vegas and have some drunken fat Elvis proclaim them married, or better yet, simply hand in the necessary paper work on his way to the office, but Mairon was having none of that. If for one day in his life he wanted to feel special, be marvelled at and fawned over, it was going to be this day, his accursed father be damned.

3.       After completing his business, he’d slipped the ring off and into his pocket to wash his hands. He wouldn’t chance it being dulled by hard water or rough soap. Mairon always did it like this, only putting the piece of jewellery back on whenever his hands were dry and spotless, but when he’d made to retrieve it, his pocket had been empty.

4.       There’d been two other people on the bathroom with him and he couldn’t remember whether they’d ever come near him at all, but their childish faces, curly heads, and mischievous giggles could only mean one thing: freshmen.

5.       For three seconds between drying his hands and reaching for the ring, Mairon had leaned over the sink and inspected his own face. The stress of upcoming exams together with his thesis‘ due date drawing ever nearer gave him red spots along his jawline and he’d glared at them to will them away before Melkor picked him up.

Conclusion: As Mairon had been caught up in his own flaws, one or both of those bastards had sidled up to him and stolen the ring out of his pocket without him noticing. This implied many things, for example that the fatigue was getting to Mairon’s mental capacities or that those freshmen were unusually sneaky. Chiefest of all was this though: Melkor had paid half a fortune for that golden band. For Mairon to lose it, well. It would spell disaster.

Mairon glared at himself in the dirt-speckled mirror, bracing himself on the sink. Three seconds, oh he would show those impertinent, stupid, drunkard gnomes what he could do to a person in three seconds. Mairon took a deep breath and marched out of the bathroom, back to the round table his study group occupied. Eönwe and Tilion were at each other’s necks with arguments dissecting Descartes’ meditations while Osse and Uinen had their tongues down each other’s throats with disgusting slobbering noises. No studying to be done here, one of the sodden constants of Mairon’s life. He grabbed his notes and tablet and shoved them into his bagpack with more force than necessary which had Curumo look up from where he had hovered over his mess of tiny handwritten notes. He looked a little like a deer in head-lights, always lost was poor Curumo. Mairon rolled his eyes and tugged at his classmate’s sleeve.

“What?” Curumo whined, reluctant to forgo the last stretch of productivity he illusioned himself with, but he was already packing up.

“Come with me,” Mairon replied. “We’re going to hunt down some freshmen.”

After a quick text to Melkor to explain he needn’t be picked up today, Mairon dragged Curumo out of the library. The dismayed reply came seconds later, and Melkor wasn’t at all happy with the excuse of needing to tutor Curumo on their upcoming French test. Melkor and Curumo had never gotten along and if Mairon was honest with himself, he would have ditched Curumo after the first week of the first semester, but sometimes the guy proved useful. Especially because, in spite of his timid disposition, he somehow knew everyone on campus, ranging from the most introverted freshman all the way to the creepy maintenance guy who smelled like he lived in the sewers.

“What for?” Curumo asked. They crossed the student-littered yard, dodging peer-pong balls and caffeine-crazed grad students to the cafeteria where Mairon figured his best bet would be. Freshmen were always hungry, and he had a vague memory of four curly-haired heads positively camping in there at all times, claiming they needed seven meals a day to function.

“They stole something from me,” Mairon muttered, raking his hands through his hair. He’d neglected to trim it to its usual chest length and it was getting quite out of hand, tangling at the lightest breeze. Still better than what Curumo’s mother had done to him over the last holiday, short and ragged so that he looked like Jack Frost.

“What did they steal?”

“My engagement ring.”

“What?” Curumo spluttered, and almost ran into the door, but Mairon held it open in time. Under the pretence of having lunch – Mairon never had university lunch if he could help it, the stuff was vile and Melkor was a great cook if he wanted to be – they both got into line, eyes darting about for the thieves.

Mairon spotted the usual groups as he scanned the perimeter. The musical theatre kids led by a haughty grad student with a harp who had a gazillion brothers around. The nature-loving hippies who smoked too much weed for their own good and gave themselves funny names and pretended to be trees on weekends. The burly punk rockers who rode Harleys and had a kink for arson, Mairon had met their gang head Gothmog in a colloquium once, he wasn’t too bad. Even the naval engineering students who usually spent all their free time down by the beaches to test their self-crafted boats where in attendance, picking at salads and discussing hydraulics. Not a sign of those nasty burglars though.  

The guy behind the counter handed him a tray, and Mairon took it, paying with his student ID chip card before turning back towards the room, just in time to see a pair of dark, curly heads disappear through the swinging doors of the cafeteria, chips trailing after them like crumbs. Mairon dropped his food and took off after them, spitting curses. Curumo, the good dog that he was, mirrored this. They tore out of the cafeteria and down the hallway together.

“Hey,” Mairon screamed. “Hey, stop!” The two freshmen threw hasty glances over their shoulders, hollering as they ran and dodged around students, but Mairon and Curumo were faster, knew these halls better and soon enough, they had the two cornered against a row of blue lockers.

“Now,” Mairon crooned and made to advance on them, but before he could, someone interrupted him. “Now you will repent.”

“Hey, what do you want with them,” he barked and two people stepped into Mairon’s and Curumo’s way, obscuring the goblins from view. They were both jocks, broad-shouldered and bearded, and towered a head over Curumo and Mairon. He knew the blond one, Eomer, an agriculture major, from a finance class they’d both taken as an elective, but he’d never seen the other man before. He was the one who’d spoken and wore a sports shirt of a team Mairon had never heard of. A white tree was their logo and their motto was written in a strange swirl of letters that looked almost Arabic.

“Just a friendly chat,” Mairon said through gritted teeth. “Not to worry.”

“That didn’t sound so friendly to me,” the guy growled and Eomer put a hand on his shoulder, nodding. His scowl deepened and his eyes burned, staring daggers into Mairon’s.

“Weren’t you that condescending guy at the back of Accounting 101 who called everyone peasants?” he asked and Mairon sighed inwardly. One bad day to haunt him. Or well, a whole semester of bad days, but who was counting anyway? Melkor had been abroad for that time and Mairon had suffered terribly.

“Why do you even care?” Mairon asked, and Curumo put a warning hand to his arm. It wasn’t unlikely that he’d seen these two beat someone up at some frat party before, but Mairon wasn’t intimidated by such mundane things as physical violence.

“Because they’re our friends,” the second jock growled, crossing his arms over his chest. It was hard not to laugh, these fully grown men proclaiming themselves friends of two troublemakers who weren’t even legally adults yet.

“Look, guys,” Curumo said quietly. “Merry and Pippin stole something very valuable from my friend here and he is rather upset about it.”

Eomer bared his teeth, but the other guy whirled around to stare at the two thieves in question who were huddled against the lockers, but silently giggling amongst themselves.

“Is this true?” he asked, and the tone of his voice implied he knew already. Helpless or not, they probably had a reputation for mischief-making.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” one of them said with a thick accent.

“You said it yourself,” the other added, “he is a condescending ass.”

“Boys.”

“Boromir.”

“Enough,” Mairon hissed and pushed through the two jocks and bore down on the freshmen, holding out his empty palm. “You give me back my ring or I will make your lives here a living nightmare. You can hire as many football players and wannabe wrestlers as you want, I am very good friends with the dean, I have more than enough money to bribe every professor in the state to bully you and my boyfriend will beat every last one of your bodyguards to a pulp. Is that clear?”

Merry and Pippin stared at him, their facial muscles contorting in a series of impossible expressions, torn between laughing and crying. They settled for blankness and, at last, Pippin handed over the ring. It was smudged with grease from his fingers and Mairon pulled out a linen handkerchief to polish it with.

“I’m sorry, they’re still not used to their actions having consequences,” Boromir sighed and Eomer nodded sternly.

“Whatever,” Mairon said with half a shrug and he stalked off the scene, leaving Curumo to deal with the polite formalities or whatever the situation demanded. He had his ring back, he could call Melkor to get him after all, he would get laid tonight while all these losers were busy with their parties and teenager friends and studying until their eyes bled. It was not ten minutes later that Mairon was comfortably tucked into Melkor’s Chevrolet, the heated seat warming his ass-cheeks.

“Have a nice day?” Melkor grumbled, not taking his eyes off the parking lot around them. Mairon leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his beloved’s mouth.

“Nothing special,” he replied and leaned into the backrest. “Nothing special at all.” The ring glinted in the low-afternoon sun and everything was as it should be.

[apterydek]

After a year of jockhood

A year of jockhood came and went, daily workouts, buzzed head, sweaty gym shorts. Though you were stronger and more comfortable than ever, you missed being preppy. Looking back at the old photos from when you wore chinos and polos instead, you remembered how you felt then: disappointed you weren’t living the jock life.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you confess to Sir. He’s the one putting you through your paces, holding you to your meal plan. He was the one who gave you your first buzz, clippers set to 1. “Though I’m living my fantasy, and I feel confident, I keep feeling like I’m missing out on all the other versions of me. This was supposed to be my final transformation, and despite all the mental training, I just can’t stick with it. I’m sorry Sir, I fear I’ve disappointed you. I know you’ve put so much effort into training me.”

Sir isn’t angry, nor let down. He’s pensive, eyes out of focus, forehead furrowed. Then, with a sudden smile, he starts: “Boy, it’s no problem. I’ve seen this before. Sensed that it might happen. It’s just that I wanted you to have the full jock experience you were so dedicated to when we first started. I know just what to do. Another year of training—”

“Another year?” you blurt in disbelief.

“Shush, boy,” he continues, stern now. “This year will be unlike the last year. Rather than get you deep into one identity, we’ll change things up every month. We’ll explore all the different versions of you. Then decide what to do next. Who knows, maybe you’ll be begging to go back to jock mode.”

Your mouth is open. “W..well…” you say, processing what Sir’s suggesting. It tingles, excitement gripping you, and you decide to comply. “Yes Sir!” you shout. He’s already thinking of what you’ll become, and within the week, you’re given your first identity.

January you kept your hoodies and trainers, but grew out your hair slightly on top even as the sides were shaved. You wore a steel necklace and a tracksuit. Manspreading, walking with a swagger. Drinking and cursing. Watching porn. Sir would catch you by surprise and pin you against the wall, getting his pleasure from you. You loved the sudden lack of discipline, the spontaneity, the cockiness.

February your hair was long enough to part and slick. Your wardrobe was entirely replaced with white briefs and singlets, gray and blue dress shirts, smart slacks, knee socks, shined shoes and even a pair of short elasticated wool shorts for home. You tucked in your shirt every day, followed a structured schedule, and learned the basics of piano and French every evening. Sir would spank you for the smallest transgressions. You came to enjoy his discipline, the way your energy was controlled and focused on learning.

March your hair kept growing. You returned to sporty shorts with matching silky shirts. Leg day every day. Running, endurance. Sir had chosen only two outfits for you to wear. It made decisions easy. He chose your food carefully for energy. By the end of all the workouts you’d be ready to head to bed, but you were quizzed on football stats every day from the games you spent hours watching. You lived through your team’s performance, trained hard to emulate your favorite players. Sport, sport, sport. The month passed quickly.

April you didn’t get a haircut, just put a little hair gel in it. Polos and khakis or bright, short shorts. Boat shoes. You started to drink again. Spent lots of time on social media, taking lots of selfies with vapid pearly smiles. A lot of them involved golf, which you were now taking up. Sir got you invited to a party on a yacht. Little discipline again, just spending money, and enjoying the money others spent, and the respect everyone gave you.

May you used a straight iron and bobby pins. Pink crop tops and pink high tops. Became a go-go dancer, shaking your butt every time someone slipped a sweaty dollar bill down the waistband of your glittery hot pants. Pumped your nips every night and morning. Sir worked your hole every morning until you could take a plug, then a thick dildo, then a fist. Sometimes, after your shows, you’d get the chance to fit other guys’ hands up your hole too. It felt good to be desired, great to be a slut, and utterly fabulous to be so flamboyant.

June you got a cut in front and a trim in the back. Button-ups with the snaps, tucked into tight Wranglers and secured with a massive belt buckle. You listened to country music the entire time you were awake. Spent time hunting and fishing, dressed in camo and/or waders. Beaten-up T-shirts and trucker caps half the time. Cowboy hats the other half. It was relaxing getting back into nature, relaxing listening to repetitive songs, relaxing to slip completely into this identity and hear the voices of anxiety silenced. Some time every day, Sir gave you hearty pats on the back, and butt, and you embraced him, totally at ease.

July you awoke in briefs and a singlet again. An extra-large polo shirt, sweater vest, and loose polyester dress pants were stuffed over you, and you were taken to a barbershop and given a tight waxed horseshoe flattop with a white, shiny, wide landing strip. Glasses for good measure too. The only fun you had was DnD, but mostly you were too busy reading academic papers, solving logic puzzles, and arguing with strangers on Quora to spend much time on the DnD sessions. Sir would turn the Internet off at 9 every night, though, and you’d have to wake up early the next day to catch up on your online pursuits. It felt good to know more than anyone else...except Sir, of course.

August you got tired of feeling like other guys were about to bully you and became the bully instead. Buzzed again, gym shorts, tank tops, lifting, protein shakes and meal plans: all the things you’d gotten tired of six months ago, but which seemed so comfortable and natural now. You almost didn’t want to continue the cycle of transformations. Begged Sir, naked and on your knees, your prominent pecs quivering slightly. Sir denied you. You needed still more discipline.

September you were to follow a detailed schedule to the minute. Your buzz was shaved daily on the back and sides, clippered to a 0.5 on top. You were issued one set of clothes for PT, and one set of clothes for day-to-day wear: a polo and cargo pants with stiff black boots that gave you blisters. There was a final set of clothing for dinners and special outings: a dress shirt secured with shirt stays, immaculately creased trousers, mirror-shined black shoes. Punishments were severe and severely boring: standing at attention for hours, endless sets of push-ups, and marches in circles with the sun beating on your shorn head. Despite the unpleasantness, you felt proud to be held to such a strict standard, and to comply with it at least most of the time. Sir would occasionally reward your compliance with a treat like a single ice cream bar or 20 minutes of free time.

October you asked again to become a jock, or a frat boy, again, but Sir, tight-lipped, shook his head. You hadn’t learned your lesson. Stripped of all clothing, you winced as you were shaved head to toe, and a chastity cage was forced on and locked. You were rubbed with lube before being covered in a thick black rubber suit that covered your entire body, zips held closed with a dozen miniature padlocks. You were let out of rubber only for your brief, intense workouts—for public matters, a thinner rubber suit that left your arms and legs exposed was fastened on you, after which you donned a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, black Converses and a black snapback. Half the time, a large plug was shoved up your ass. You didn’t have a strict schedule any more, but the punishments more than made up for it. Perhaps your entire existence was one punishment. You were beaten, forced into painful positions, your balls stretched, made to drink piss and eat from the floor. You slept in a large dog cage. Slowly, you got used to it, hastened by Sir’s hypnosis and brainwashing sessions. You realized how much effort Sir was putting into the training and resolved not to disappoint him again. The border between pain and pleasure disappeared, and you grew content in the moment, constant intense sensations forcing your attention on the present. For Halloween you were paraded out in your full rubber suit, a collar and leash around your neck.

November you knelt, bound, ready for the next layer of intensity, for a fresh round of humiliation and torture. You accepted whatever Sir might inflict upon you. But he untied you, let you out, gently cleaned you in the bathtub, and had you lie on a towel. It was only when you felt a soft, pillowy sensation enveloping your chastity cage that you realized what he’d planned. You had a large wardrobe of brightly colored T-shirts and pants and a full rack of chunky sneakers. There were rules, of course, particularly around bedtime, screen time, and getting your diaper changed, but you were otherwise free to play as you wished. The lack of punishment initially seemed wrong, like cheating, but you settled into your new pampered lifestyle as Sir gently encouraged you and occasionally told you life stories to learn from. By the end of the month, you were making cucumber sandwiches like a pro, wearing a cartoon sandwich T-shirt and overalls.

December Sir trimmed the sides and back of your head, undressed you, unlocked you from chastity, and showed you to yet another set of clothing. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he didn’t tell you what you were supposed to become, just smiled and walked out of the room. No kinky gear or implements anywhere, just a fleshlight in the back of the drawer, behind the boxer shorts and miscellaneous patterned shirts and jeans. Sir just kind of...left you alone, not telling you when to wake up or what any consequences of anything would be. With the horniness from the previous months of chastity and discipline built up, you started to jerk off at least three times a day. Sitting at the dinner table with Sir eating pizza, you asked him what this was all about. It felt so wrong.

“Boy, this month I’m showing you what you haven’t had for several years: a ‘normal’ lifestyle. No control, no schedule, no denial, no punishments, just...freedom. You shouldn’t forget, I can give you any transformation I desire, and this month I want you to be a regular guy. What’s light without shadow, a vessel without the internal emptiness, a crisp autumn day without the muggy summer before it?”

Almost crying at this point, you nodded. You’d taken all this kinky artifice for granted, assumed that last month was Sir’s way of letting you off easy even though you were in diapers. You had gotten so accustomed to Sir’s control that you’d let yourself get tired of living your deepest fantasies as a prep and a jock.

You stood up. “Sir,” you started, about to apologize, about to thank him, about to tell him how much you loved him, but you pushed your face into his and gave him a deep kiss, inserting your tongue, feeling his warm mouth relax in pleasure. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you tighter, and you were together, equals now. Wait, equals? That didn’t feel right.

You pulled his arms behind his back and scowled. “I love you. That’s why I’m going to do to you what you did to me. We’ll start with you as a jock.” Sir’s eyes widened. You kept your face stern, but worried he’d find some way to punish you. Suddenly, Sir sat up and straightened his shoulders. “Sir, yes Sir!” he yelled. And so, another year began, with a Sir and boy playing through various transformations, except the Sir and boy were reversed this time, and a few times, for a month at a stretch, they’d stop and live as equals, just to appreciate what they had. Appreciate each other they most certainly did.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Why Reggie Mantle and Alexandra Cabot should date

Now I know the comics usually like to pair Reggie with Veronica or Cheryl (yes with Cheryl. It's a rather adorably funny story called Love is Nasty and I actually really like them together most of the time as sort of an evil power couple because they bring out the worst in each other but I digress).

But now, I suggest Reggie and Alexandra now because they have so much in common.

1. They both feel second best

Reggie's main thing is because he wants to the top dog, school president, lead in plays, get the girls and of course, scheme to make the Archies, the Reggies. When the comics try to show Reggie's sympathetic side, they show how he hates that the town loves Archie's nice guy attitude so he plays up his bad boy prankster side. Why join them, when you can prank them. Meanwhile, Alexandra loves to be the star of every occasion and schemes to make Josie and the Pussycats be Alexandra's Cool Cat Band with her as the lead singer of course (despite being gone deaf). Not to mention scheme to steal Alan M. from Josie just so she can be number one. Also very very subtly implied that she does it because she's lonely. But that's very rare. Like Reggie, she prefers to hype up her rich beauty vibe to show why she's better than Josie.

2. They both love the expensive, flashy things in life Reggie's known for his awesome, speed racing cars, nice threads and flashing concert tickets and the like he can get with his money. Though sometimes he's cheap, he will use them to beat other men to get the girl. And Alexandra Cabot is just the same, only richer with mad inventions and castles and in one story, their own kingdom Cabotopia. So together, they would have such lavish dates in Reggie's Mercedes and dining on gold plates.

3. They will respect the other's nasty streak

Like I said before, the two can get into pretty nasty tricks to get what they wanted. As a result they've been cast as the town villain. While they mostly embrace the role, they're also lonely. So it would be nice for them to have someone who wouldn't judge them automatically for such bad actions. Hell, they'd probably add suggestions.

4. The egoism These two are the most self obsessed, egotistical people in the Archieuniverse. Mirrors are one their best friends. Imagine them goading each other with "The most gorgeou boyfriend in all Riverdale," "You're right, you should be the star of the Pussycats." Ugh, they wouldn't fit their heads through the door. Or more likely, they start fighting over whose richer? More beautiful? More mirror time etc.

5. Power couple Do I really need to explain this one?

More ship ideas underneath including CherylxAlexander and JasonxVeronica.

Alexander Cabot III and Cheryl Blossom: Cheryl wants to be a star. Alexander wants to manage a star. Ya see what I'm getting at here?

I mean Alexander's infamous for all the stunts he tries to get the Pussycats roped into like million dollars stadium tours across the world with high rise podiums, special effects and back up dancers that eventually the Pussycats quit because they prefer to be lowkey rockstars. Or when he tries to make them wear dresses made up of CD discs to boost sales.

Or when Archie and Valerie got married, trying to hire a reality show to boost popularity. He’s all about the flash and publicity and of course, money. He can be scheming and lowdown in his pursuit of fame, really representative of the sleazy Hollywood manager.

And Cheryl.. the MTV house  renting, temporary Sugar Girls member, burlesque dressing, reality tv show hanger on, she will do anything to get the attention on her. Even making the Cherry Blossom Festival to the Cheryl Blossom Festival. The girl's outrageous and can be as lowdown sneaky as anyone whether it comes to attracting boys or screwing with Betty and Veronica.Cheryl would have no problem fulfilling Alexander's ideas, in fact she'd encourage it. Together, I have no doubt they'd get their wish for fame and fortune.

Jason Blossom and Veronica Lodge: Even though Veronica is usually paired with Reggie or Alexander, she's rarely been paired with the the third bad boy of Riverdale. But why not once more for old times sake?

I can imagine the drama already that at first with Archie and Betty paired off with Valerie and Trey so Veronica pairs up with Alexander Cabot.

But this may not be the last affair as many might think, not only because Veronica has some amount of class and won't go for all of Alex's crazy schemes even if they will get publicity. Veronica has shown to be snobby and actually reject Alex (for laughs of course) by saying he was poorer than the Lodges. See here.

But much more likely, Cheryl, looking for a challenge, steals Alexander away from Veronica and Veronica in revenge, decides to date Cheryl's brother. Of course, this all starts as revenge and a prank which Jason plays along with because it drives his sister crazy. But slowly they become the mask as they fall in love.

In the comics, Jason has a mega crush on Betty who doesn't reciprocate because of the Archie factor and because Jason can be as mean and nasty as Reggie. Though for Betty, Jason seems willing to change into a teddy bear if he could be with her.

What I'm basically getting at is that Jason has a soft side for the girl he loves so when he falls for Veronica he falls hard, and I think Ron would appreciate this sweetness only shown to her. Plus the devotion compared to Archie's wishy washiness. Not to mention, Ron would like a man who easily fulfills his whims and has the money to match hers. Also he has Betty trunks, I bet she’d want Jason to have a whole outfit with her face on it.

Also just imagine the drama! Cheryl and Veronica as sisters in law! Alexandra and Cheryl teaming up as BFFs again!  The money, the fame, it would be ridiculously fun.

[kvngjoong]

she was a rainbow [one - hwang hyunjin]

→ hwang hyunjin x f!you, university!au, in which hyunjin discovers that his feelings aren’t as easy to understand as he first may have thought → 5.8k+, brief smut halfway through, angst and fluff, nothing that deep

part 1 of 3

“You have a crush on her, Hyunjin,” Minho says, sitting across from him at the table in the library. The elder is responding to a string of compliments directed at you, mostly sick of hearing how amazing Hyunjin though you were. “Please can you tell her that you love her and not me.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Love her?”

“That’s what it is, right?” Minho comments.

“Love?”

“Yeah, you love her.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I don’t think I love her. She’s just… a good friend of mine. Love? No. I can’t love someone. I’m only 21.”

“You think your age means you can’t love someone?” Minho questions.

Hyunjin doesn’t like cold winter nights.  

Compared to everything else, he hates them the most, but he finds himself walking down the path with snow crunching beneath his shoes to clear his mind. He hears being at one with nature is beneficial. He hears that spending time alone is also beneficial as you can focus on what you want. 

Hyunjin can’t do that, though. His mind is always filled with things he should be doing. Today he’s thinking about his parents. He works two jobs, you know, to help out with his two younger siblings. No one would know that if they took one look at him - he’s an athlete. He’s given everything on a silver platter. 

He’s only in the soccer league for his university but somehow it gives everyone a quick judgement - he’s easy to dislike. He won’t lie, he knows girls look over at him in classes and it makes him smirk at the time, though he comes home lonely at the end of the day. He wonders if maybe someone will appreciate him for him, because at the moment no one really does. 

No one. 

And do you know how fucking much that sucks?

Hyunjin works two jobs and gets paid barely anything. He had to stick to wearing sports gear because he can’t afford anything else, he isn’t just some obnoxious athlete who wants to show off to everyone how talented he is. He hates it all. He doesn’t even believe his parents, his family, truly appreciate what he does. They don’t see him sleeping three hours a day because he has essays due and books to read. 

His head hurts. He doesn’t realise how much it’s affecting him until he trips on some iced snow, sending him toppling forward and onto his hands which are burnt from how cold the snow and ice is. He stays laying in the snow for a moment, eyes burning but still managing to become glassy. 

He stays there, and he cries. He lets his feelings get to him for the first time in a few months and bawls his eyes out in the middle of the night on a pavement covered in snow. He’s reached his last legs. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He hates everything here and—

“Hey.” Hyunjin freezes at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. The feminine voice makes him ponder - he doesn’t know who it belongs to. He remembers voices well, too. He blinks a few times before turning his head towards the voice. “Are you...okay?”

Hyunjin is mesmerised by your eyes for a moment. He notices the colours which are picked up but the streetlights and the moon, the way your hair falls down onto your face and how you show concern for him - a stranger. It’s polite to ask if he’s okay but he’s fallen over on the track before and never seen this look. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. He clears his throat as he pushes himself up. He remains dismissive of you – he’s honestly scared that he has shown emotions to you and that you’ll use it against him. 

You’re shorter than him; he feels like a giant beside you really. A protective stance falls on him for a moment as he wonders why you’re out here on your own, but falls when he’s brought back to the real world. 

“You cut your head,” you tell him. You gesture towards his forehead and take a step closer, but Hyunjin steps back slowly. He brings a hand towards his head and feels the blood dripping from it, which he wipes with his finger tips. “I can help you get home if you want?”

Hyunjin feels stupid for having to rely on you, so he declines your request. He just wants to go home and sleep, really, his head is pounding and he’s close to crying again. “I’m fine.”

A thought occurs to him as he turns around. He shouldn’t leave you without saying thank you - he sounds rude and his parents would scold him for this kind of behaviour. They’d also scold him if they found out he left a girl on her own in the streets when it was late at night and so cold, too. 

He forgets it, he shouldn’t fake being nice. It won’t get him anywhere. He’ll have to fake it for the rest of the night and he can’t do that. Hwang Hyunjin is over being fake and he’d rather walk away from that girl and leave her there, which is exactly what he does. He heads home with a raging headache and vision blurred. He doesn’t know if you made it home okay and he doesn’t really care too much either. 

If it makes you feel any better, Hyunjin didn’t even check his forehead for the damage he’d done before collapsing onto his bed and falling straight asleep, only to wake up the next day with blood all over his pillow. Honestly, he didn’t have the money to wash it so just turned it over and ignored it, placing a plaster on the wound before rushing off to his 10am class. 

His 10am class, based on international relations between America and China, doesn’t go by too easily. He still has a pounding headache and he can’t seem to get the previous night off his mind since it keeps replaying. He has too many questions - the first of which is who are you?

Being in the sports teams means he’s friends with a lot of people. He won’t act like that’s not the case, because it is - he knew too many people to keep up with. He doesn’t recall ever seeing you though, because he swears that he would remember your face. 

You didn’t look new though either. You knew what you were doing out in the cold that night and you knew your way around. You knew that you could approach Hyunjin which meant you must have seen him in a sports event before, since Hyunjin isn’t the most approachable person to exist in the world. His stern look usually drives people away from him, not to him. 

So Hyunjin spends the hour searching for you instead, using every means he can to just work out who you are and why you were walking on his late night/early morning path the same day he was. Privacy issues, you know?

He thinks he’s successful when he comes across a blank profile but soon realises that the gender doesn’t match, nor does the language. He goes through as many society pages he can to solidify some kind of person for you but doesn’t get anywhere with what he does. It makes him almost crazy as he puts down his phone with four minutes to spare, staring down to the professor with wide eyes as he realises the lecture was on coursework. Oh well, he’d do it with a few days to spare from the due date anyway - he has bigger problems on his mind. 

Bigger problems not being the pillow that was covered in blood, nor the shift at work he has later. 

He does try to forget your face for a while, and he thinks that the lecture’s done it for him when he starts to worry about what books he needs to be borrowing from the library before everyone else got their hands on them. He’s focused on a title of a book all the way from his lecture to his dorm, but the second he looks in the mirror and sees the awful looking plaster on his head he’s reminded that you saw him out there last night.

And maybe you didn’t know your way around, or know who he was. 

Hyunjin goes straight back to wondering where you would have disappeared to, peeling off the plaster a little slower than he should have to feel a particular sting on his skin that made up for the dick move he pulled yesterday. 

You were cute. Was that his motive? Was he so deprived of human contact that the second someone who was relatively cute spoke with him, he had to know exactly what they were doing and where they were doing, lest know who they were? Most possibly. He’s straight back on his phone as soon as he can be, forgetting the shower he planned on having and instead scrolling through SNS to try and find someone who vaguely matched your appearance. 

He’s almost late for work, that’s how long he spends on his phone. He forgets to charge it too, and since he had lent his portable charger to Woojin a few weeks ago and Woojin had never given it back to him, Hyunjin was going to have to deal with going to work with 10% battery and the constant frustration that he still couldn’t find you no matter what he did.

He was mad, and the poor drive through customers could see that as much as anyone else.

Hyunjin had run all the way from his dorm to the local McDonald’s that he’d taken a job when he first started here. He arrived a minute before his shift started and went straight to his position at the first window of the drive through, grabbing the headset from the girl who was on the way out. He didn’t want to be there. Every shift he hated with a burning passion. 

He still managed to give every driver a fake smile, hair pushed back under his McDonald’s cap that he also hated with a passion. As usual, he’d have people at the university come through and compliment him on his looks (only to drive away laughing for whatever reason they could find), and each time he’d see another person he recognised his grip on the card machine would only get tighter. 

The only thought that kept him grounded? Well, it was you.

He ignored the complaints from his manager with a roll of his eyes, his boredom occupied by thoughts of you and your pretty face that he was slowly developing a crush on. It was easy to stare at a screen and listen to someone read out an order, even easy to blur out the sound of a middle aged man’s voice that he really didn’t care for. 

The hours go slow nonetheless. By the time it reaches 10pm and the night shift people are starting to arrive, he’s wishing he had a phone to accompany his walk home. He forgot to bring a coat in his rush earlier, so the only relief he has from the bitter wind is his long sleeved shirt that smells like the kitchen grease. It’s lucky that not many people are out on a Thursday when he walks home from work. It’s dead silent on his walk back through the icy paths. 

Hyunjin is careful over the patches of white on the paths this time, keeping an eye on his footsteps despite the pain in his heels and lower back. Thoughts of his bed flood his mind more than you did earlier, and his eyes start to fall shut with each step. 

He’s lucky that the sound of some ice snapping brings him from his tiredness, since he looks up to make sure that whoever was cracking the ice wasn’t going to come at him with an icicle. 

No, they’re not coming at him. He thought it was just him on the lit path, but his eyes fall on the one person he would have hoped to be on the path at this time. Or not. The same protectiveness fills Hyunjin’s senses at the sight of you walking down the path, no hat or scarf to keep you warm, your jacket unbuttoned and hands shoved into your pockets

He’s not seen someone that pretty since technically yesterday, but ever. A smile erupts on his face when he realises this is his opportunity to talk to you and see how you are, find out more about you. He couldn’t care for the time, nor the hairs on his arms which stand on end, he wants to talk to you and he finds a sudden surge of confidence when you look up from the ground and straight to him. 

He doesn’t think you’ll recognise him, though he assumes you caught his eyes because he was the one staring at you before. You carry on walking towards him, like he does with you, and you both meet somewhat in the middle with about a metre between the two of you.

“Hey,” Hyunjin greets, smile still stuck to him though disappearing slightly with his words, “it’s me, from yesterday.”

You hum, gesturing to his forehead. “I don’t believe that you dressed that properly.”

“I put a plaster on it,” Hyunjin tells you.

“You smacked your head on ice and tried to make it better with a plaster? You’re crazy.” Hyunjin is less apprehensive when you reach forward to touch his head this time. He winces when the tips of your fingers reach the edge of the wound, though he watches your eyes intently the whole time. You roll your eyes as you take your hand away. “It’s probably infected. You know how much pain you’re gonna be in if you don’t fix it?”

Hyunjin shrugs, readjusting his cap. He pushes his slightly overgrown hair back under his cap and pulls it down slightly to hide the cut. “It’s just a cut. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?”

“I hurt myself a lot.” Hyunjin realises his words are a little less descriptive when he sees your brows furrow. He stutters a cover for his words when you start to look a little more concerned. “I mean, I play soccer. I get hurt a lot when I play. This isn’t that bad.”

You nod at his clarification, though still seem skeptical. “Why were you out here so late last night?”

“Why were you?”

“Touche.” 

Hyunjin takes your silence as a defensive mechanism. You may not know who he is after all - if you were really aware of who Hwang Hyungjin was, you’d have been asking him to listen to your stories and make him feel sorry for you so that you could post about it the next day on SNS. He takes your silence, your awkward stare down at the ground, as an opportunity to create something new. 

“I’m Hyunjin,” he tells you, catching your attention from the ground again, “I like walking at night to clear my head. It makes me feel like I have less problems. Plus, I like the cold.”

Your smile is prettier than he could have imagined it to be. “You like the cold?”

“It’s refreshing. It makes me feel like… I have feelings. ‘Cause when I’m cold it reminds me that there’s a whole world around me that I tend to ignore for most of the day.”

“You sound like you need a therapist, Hyunjin.”

“Probably,” Hyunjin replies. He looks behind you, checking to see if anyone else is around. He can only see a bird or two on the grass behind you. The rest of the world isn’t paying attention to him. “Do you wanna... Do something?”

Hyunjin’s heart drops when you don’t answer immediately. Forwardness usually worked on people. He can tell but your blank expression that you were not expecting to hear him say that. He still finds some hope when you check behind you too, then turn back to him with the beginning of a smile. 

Hyunjin will end up having a bit of a complex if you keep giving into him so easily. “We just met.”

“It’s cold,” he counters, “and we’re both out here for absolutely no reason. If you’re out here for the same reason as me then I imagine you want something to take your mind off things, too.”

You’re apprehensive to reply again, though this time Hyunjin’s heart beats a little quicker. You nod once, then again, stepping forward so that you’re next to him. “Sure. Let’s take our minds off things.”

Hyunjin nods, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you look up to him. He debates linking your arm, though given you’re nothing like the girls he usually talks to, he won’t be doing that any time soon. Instead, he walks beside you at a reasonable pace, waiting for you to speak in case he makes you feel uncomfortable. 

And you do, eventually. A little past the first building as you reach the gates to the main road, you start to tell him that you’re outside so that you can think, too. How you saw him fall yesterday and felt bad that you didn’t do more. That you were new to the university and wanted to explore the grounds whilst you thought through things instead of staring at a blank wall. Eventually he gets to hear what he wanted the entire time. 

“My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

And oh is that a name Hyunjin exhausts with every opportunity that he can. He likes the way it leaves his lips, the sound it makes when he calls it across the room when he notices you from a distance. He even likes the way it looks as a contact on his phone. 

He’ll stare at it for hours as he lays in bed, unsure whether he should text you or call you, or just have another look through your Instagram to see your pretty face again. He’ll find himself looking through your conversations, admiring the pictures you’ve been posting, reading through the comments on your post for longer than he used to spend wondering how much he hated himself. 

He doesn’t walk the paths of the campus under the moonlight anymore, and instead he spends it with your words or your thoughts. 

“You have a crush on her, Hyunjin,” Minho says, sitting across from him at the table in the library. The elder is responding to a string of compliments directed at you, mostly sick of hearing how amazing Hyunjin though you were. “Please can you tell her that you love her and not me.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Love her?”

“That’s what it is, right?” Minho comments. 

“Love?” 

“Yeah, you love her.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I don’t think I love her. She’s just… a good friend of mine. Love? No. I can’t love someone. I’m only 21.”

“You think your age means you can’t love someone?” Minho questions. His glare is enough to indicate to Hyunjin that he’s said something wrong, so he panics as he tries to backtrack to a reasonable point in the conversation.

He knew he wasn’t in love, because as much as he would have told himself that he liked the way you looked at him and enjoyed your company, he wouldn’t be in a position to admit that you had his heart and that wasn’t going to change. 

No one had his heart. Hyunjin made sure of that.

It might not have been obvious when he would spend nights with you on the couch, head in your lap, heart beating for you and only you. He would ignore the thoughts going through his head each time you smiled at him, the distant memory of Minho’s words never truly leaving his mind. Each time your skin touched his he would remember that word. 

Love.

Could he love you?

No, that wasn’t right. Everyone had the ability to love someone. Hyunjin knew that. 

Would he love you?

That a decision that he had to make on his own, when he was ready to. But when does anyone actually understand if they are truly ready to love someone?

Hyunjin’s biggest fear, admittedly, is that one day he’ll look at you and the feeling of wholeness will disappear. When he stares up at the ceiling at night, a flurry of possibilities meeting him, Hyunjin’s chest starts to hurt a little. He thinks that there’s a chance his question would already be answered, especially when he sits across from you and has his chin on his hand, listening to the words you sound out so carefully. 

“I got invited to this thing, actually,” you tell him, sat on the corner of his kitchen counter. He looks up to you with a raised brow, urging for you to continue. “You can come, if you like?”

Hyunjin hums, placing the other slice of bread on his half completed sandwich. He picks it up and takes a bite, continuing as he chews with a hand covering his mouth. “What is it?”

“A party. You know, the kinda generic stuff. We just have to show up and talk to some people, stay if it’s okay, then leave if it’s kinda boring.”

“Sounds good,” Hyunjin tells you, feigning his enjoyment of the possibility of going to the one type of party he always tried to avoid. 

He thinks that it might be easier, considering that you’re going to be there and you make things easier for him. It was easy for him to act like he was enjoying himself when you’re by his side and it’s your smile that he’s directing all his attention at. So his agreement is purely on the basis that he’ll be with you.

You’re like his favourite song.

He listens to you on repeat, finding new sounds he didn’t hear before and a twist in the lyrics that make more sense each time he hears them. He starts you again each time you come to an end to savour the way you exhilarate every one of his senses and how his nerves go into overdrive each time they’re graced with your presence. His heart matches yours, every fibre of his being tailored to fit yours perfectly. 

His hands are entwined with yours, eyes full of admiration as you sing along to whatever is playing in the background. He truly forgets about everything around him. The people whispering that he’s with another girl, that he has found someone who will put up with him, that there is someone who can cope with listening to him each and every day. He doesn’t listen to them, only to you. 

He smiles the pain of the words he hears away, attention flickering between how you made him feel better, and you. You made him someone different. You made him feel like Hwang Hyunjin, not soccer player Hyunjin, not athlete Hyunjin, not even employee Hyunjin. Just Hwang Hyunjin without the labels that were plastered all over him. 

As you pull him into the spare bedroom of your friends place, he starts to forget everything he heard and returns just to you once more. 

“You’re pretty cute, Hyunjin,” you tell him, lips pressed to the corner of his. Your hands reach for the inside of the leather jacket he was wearing, peeling it from his chest and down to his arms. He catches what you’re trying to do and helps you out, pulling off his jacket and throwing it to the side. 

“Cute?” he repeats, fingers twisted in your hair. He gently pulls you back from him, eyes narrowed in response. “Only cute? I’m more than that.”

He’s so infatuated by your giggle that he lets you push him back against the door, fingers running through his own hair whilst your hips push as close to his as possible. “So fucking cute.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, reaching down to press a kiss to your lips this time. He stops just before your skin touches, revealing in the slight whine you give him in response. “And you’re so fucking beautiful.”

He wonders why he never kissed you before. His whole body is on fire with each of your little touches, and somewhere in between he manages to get his hands on the door to lock it behind him. He’d have happily continued to kiss you through the night, but he realises just after you that your bodies are both asking for something more. 

You tug at his belt, fingers undoing it with ease and following with his button and zipper. Hyunjin is surprised to see you spit on your hand once your done; he hisses when your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers, taking him fully into your hand beneath the black material. You look back up to his face, studying his features for all of a second before pulling him back onto you and leaving him with too many things to concentrate on. 

He did not think, in any way, shape, or form, that he would be locked in a random bedroom with you, making out with you as you jacked him off and relieved an unknown sexual desire he had in the back of his head this whole time. 

“You’re big,” you mumble against his lips breaking your contact for the briefest of seconds to build up his ego that had been deflated for so long. He tries to cut off his responsive moan but you’re too aware of it. “Do you want me to get you off, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin nods rapidly. He should have told you that he’d have done anything for you to let him reciprocate it, but it slips from his mind when your hand slides down his length, your thumb flicking over his tip before you return down to his shaft. Even he was surprised how hard he was already. 

But it was you, so he really should have seen it coming.

He tried his very best to be quiet but the way you made him feel was too much. It wasn’t that you were any better than others, he thought you really didn’t have that much experience anyway, it was just that it was you doing it to him. Stroking his cock up and down, telling him that it would feel good if he filled you up, asking him if next time you could use your mouth. 

Hyunjin can barely move past the one occasion he’s got here, yet alone think to a next time. He’s hung up over the slight twists of your hand and effortless touches, he can feel his vision slowly turning whiter and whiter until he sees a light and he’s cumming over your hand and the inside of his boxers. 

If he wasn’t living on the end of liquid confidence and so enthralled by you, he’d would never have asked you pushed you back against the door and reciprocated it, like he was meant to tell you he wanted to earlier. 

His dreams would forever be flooded with the look you gave him from above, one of your legs over his shoulder as he nipped at the inside of your thighs and moved on to do the exact same to your clit. He never expected you to taste so sweet. No one else had done before. 

So every time he closed his eyes he was stuck with the lock you gave him as he laid his tongue flat against you, every time he was met with radio silence he heard your moans, and he never found anything which matched your taste.

And part of him hoped it was the same for you, too.

Though he couldn’t guarantee anything. He walked home with you under the stars, arm around your shoulder, people around the completely oblivious to the world they were living in. Hyunjin can only look at you and smile, and wonder if he’s the only thought running through your head too. He’s not shy to kiss you a few more times on the way home, nor when he crawls into bed next to you and passes out from tiredness with his head on your shoulder. 

His thoughts of you only get more intense when he wakes up beside you and you’re cuddled up to him like you were the one with all the love for him. His heart almost melts, though he’s forced to leave early when he remembers he has a day shift at the reception for a bridal shop in town, his other job that pays him a little better but offers worse hours for him. 

Does he hope you’ll be there when he gets home? Yes. 

Is he left disappointed when you text call him twenty minutes before he’s meant to be home and tell him that you had an emergency thing to attend to, but you’d probably be free later? Kinda.

Hyunjin lets it go because he believes you when you say you’ll be free later, and he believes you when you text him and tell him that instead of that evening you’ll meet him for lunch the next day. It gives him an opportunity for some planning which he hasn’t been able to do for a while. 

“Do you think she’ll like them?” Hyunjin asks Minho, shoving the bouquet in his friend’s face so he has to smell it. He ignore Minho’s dirty look at carries on anyway. “I’m going to tell her that I like her.”

Minho frowns. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“I thought it was too soon.”

“You thought it was too soon?” Minho repeats, brows furrowed. He looks around the half empty library, then leans closer to Hyunjin so that he hears every word clearly. “You, my friend, are a fucking idiot.”

Hyunjin reenacts Minho’s previous look. The flowers are placed down onto the table and his lips turn downwards. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You are going to tell her you like her when you clear do more than like her,” Minho says, “you have to be honest with her. Don’t tell her you like her when you love her.”

“I don’t.”

“Huh?”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I don’t love her. It would be impossible for me to love her. I think she’s hot, I like spending time with her, and she’s my best friend. I like her.”

“If you’re going to confess to her like that, then she’s gonna be pretty hurt.”

“I’m not going to lie to her.” Hyunjin means what he says, but not in the way he says it. “I don’t love her. It would take me more time. I want her to know how I feel now, though. I like her. I want to confess that to her.”

Because you are his favourite song, after all. 

He wants everyone to know about it. He wanted everyone to see him sit you down at a table in a small cafe in town, hand you a bouquet of flowers that he picked out based on how pretty they were. He picked the yellow carnations over white, the snapdragons with their different buds of flowers, and orange roses that stood out in the store. 

He can’t help but smile when your hands are pulled over your mouth, nor encourage you to show him your pretty face so he could admire you, too. He knew people were watching, especially when you walked out with your hand in his for a reason other than desire. 

His honesty, however, didn’t go as far as telling you that the love he felt for you would change. 

Hyunjin can’t help but spend each day at your side. Exhausting you like a trust with a purpose, making sure you understood that he liked you, not loved you, but felt towards you he felt for no others. You were who he turned to in darkness, you were who brought sunshine to rainy days and warmth to the coldest nights. 

“I could stay here forever,” he’d whisper against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes with a smile. He’d push the hair back from your face, admiring you for a second longer. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

You smile and shake your head, returning his touches by running your thumb over his bottom lip. “Why would I leave you, Hyunjin?”

He can’t answer your question without a lecture, so he always chooses not to. He’d keep his thoughts to himself. Though everyone knew deep down that a guilty conscience would lead others to ask the questions they wanted answered for themselves. Why would he leave you?

Why wouldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he love you?

“Because you’re scared,” Minho says to Hyunjin, passing him a can of sprite across his kitchen table. The younger is pouting, unsure of what he’s supposed to do. “You can’t tell her the truth because you’re worried what she will say.”

Hyunjin hums. Maybe Minho is right. “I want to tell her, but every time I try to my body freezes and I can’t talk. It’s like something doesn’t want me to tell her.”

“Then don’t tell her yet,” Minho suggests. 

“Won’t that make things worse?”

Minho shrugs, his expertise ending. “You told me before you confessed to her that you didn’t want to lie to her, so you either do love her and you tell her, or you don’t love her and you don’t tell her. Whatever you do, there’s a reason you don’t do the opposite.”

“So I’m not just nervous?” Hyunjin asks. He looks down to the unopened text on his phone and signs. “You don’t think I love her?”

“I can’t tell you if you love her yet. You’ll know yourself when you do. Just be honest with her.”

Hyunjin isn’t lying when he tries to tell Minho that that is his problem, though Minho thinks he means the love part and goes on a rant about how everyone can love someone and time will show the true feelings behind everything. 

And Hyunjin does care about you deeply, that has never ever changed. 

Because you always like your favourite song. Once it’s been played over and over, and you don’t listen to it for a while, you go back to it and remember the vocals or musical quirks that attracted you to it in the first place. 

But once you’ve moved on, that feeling never comes back. 

His favourite song doesn’t change, he just stops listening to it after a while. He stops the admiration, the tune in his head when there’s radio silence, the thoughts of it when he closes his eyes. 

It’s no longer sweet to him, and he’s no longer a slave to the thought of it. Of you. 

And as he finds him walking out in the cold nights as he finds something else to occupy his mind, he realises that he could never appreciate you for who, for all you truly were.

It was never a case of would he love you. 

Hyunjin could love you. He could open his heart to someone and trust that they could do the same, yet he never had it in him to even approach the topic with a clear head. 

A walk down the path with the bitter wind rattling his bones, the light shining down on him as tears fell down his cheeks and froze the skin beneath, much like the ice that crunched under his feet with each step. 

You filled his world with the colours that radiated from you, painting the skies blue and orange; the days yellow and punk; the nights black and purple. You made him see what was beautiful, yet he could never have seen it the way you did.

You were a rainbow in the dull world he built around him, but he was colourblind.

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! - A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 1 

FF.net link - AO3 link 

Beep Beep. beep Beep. Click

8:00 am. Hisoka rolled over in his queen-sized bed, groaning at the interruption of his beauty sleep. Setting an early alarm after editing until 2 am was a horrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and rolls onto his back, following his ritual of checking all his notifications in the morning. The video he had uploaded after editing was well received, many comments about how he should try more looks with purple eyeshadow. About 3 years ago he had started his channel “Bubblegumbitch Makeup” as more of a throwaway joke after someone insulted his makeup on Instagram. However, an audience grew quite quickly, and Hisoka had to admit that he enjoyed the attention and luxury of it all. Making money by sitting in front of a camera and applying Makeup while people tell you how good looking you are is a great ego boost.

Half-heartedly he scrolled through his subscription feed, just to see what his competition was up to, though barely anyone had really uploaded during the night. Amateurs and their 'healthy' sleep schedules. A true influencer knows that an audience never sleeps.

 He disregarded his phone somewhere into the pile of pillows that make up his bed and made his way into the bathroom. His morning showers are more functional than enjoyable, quickly rinsing on whatever spirits of sleep may linger on him.

After that, the Makeup artist applied his usual morning creams, body lotion, towel dries his hair, and threw on a pair of grey low-waist sweats and a comfortable white razor-back shirt. Need. Coffee.

 Hisokas flat was a quaint little thing just outside of Rieti. An open imitation marble kitchen, facing the living room equipped with a black leather couch and wall mounted flat screen TV, opening to a relatively small balcony housing a few plants.

Exiting his bedroom, he grabbed the TV remote and switched unto a random morning news show, just needing background noise while he waits for his coffee to brew.

"And preparations are running wild for the annual Fashion Week in Rome. This year the line-up features many new promising designers from all over the globe. Tune in at 10 for more-"

The fashion week! Hisoka grinned, having nearly forgotten about this important event that he had always followed closely. Though rarely attending himself, he had been requested on multiple occasions as a make-up artist for certain models. But there was something more important connected to that special week. He grabbed his fresh cappuccino and strolled back to his room, fishing his phone from the depths of pillow mountain.

"Hisoka: Gooooood Morning! Roma's Fashion Week is coming up, are you going to stop on by? ~"

It didn’t take long before his phone chimed with the familiar Ping of a private Message.

“Bellissimo <3: I will be going to the Show for 4 days. If it proves convenient, I’d drop by for a short collaboration.”

“Hisoka: I’ll be keeping my bed warm~♥️”

“Bellissimo<3: Gross and unnecessary. I will book a room in my usual hotel in Rome. I’ll drop by for the Collaboration on Monday afternoon, and leave after.”

“Bellissimo<3: I will send you some sample pieces later, please come up with a look for one of them, and don’t just ‘wing it’ like last time.”

Hisoka giggled before disregarding his phone again. Illumi Zoldyck, breakthrough Fashion Designer from England, and eldest son of Zoldyck fashion magazine empire, who often uploaded videos of his artistic process on his channel “I. Zoldyck Fashion”. They had met 2 years ago, at a smaller Paris fashion show, the first one Hisoka ever attended. A model had requested Hisoka as her makeup artist, while Illumi had been working on a dress for her, and the two of them ended up working closely together to properly coordinate colours with each other. And though Illumi expressed great annoyance with Hisoka, they exchanged numbers, and started to make collab videos whenever they fell into the same place. Something about working together with Illumi got Hisokas heart racing. Seeing the camera-shy man get increasingly more frustrated with his antics was a joy that could hardly be topped.

But he didn’t have time to dwell in good memories and spine-tingling anticipation. He had work to do. And so once again he chucked his phone back into the pillow-cave system and made his way into his recording room.

It was a small office space, on one side an office Desk with a Desktop Computer, a couple of small succulent plants framing it, and a comfy black office chair. On the other side a set-up to record videos, with a white-pink gradient wall, a stainless white desk with a small mirror standing on it, and a less-comfy stool to sit on. In a smooth motion, Hisoka downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup aside, and started the camera. The night before he had laid out everything for his next video, a review for a new eyeshadow palette released by another Beauty Youtuber, still trying to get into the game. How Cute.

Hisoka clapped his hands together, putting on his best camera smile. “Hey, Scum! ~ Today I have a very special treat for you all. I got my hands on the new Togari Palette ‘Hunting for Your Dreams’, his first release.” He held up the shimmering silver case and opened it up for the camera to reveal 6 eyeshadows in various shades of orange and red. About half an hour and a couple try hard glamour shots later, Hisoka dropped the Palette with a grin, staring directly into the Camera. In addition to his signature Star and Teardrop under his eyes, he had attempted to imitate a flame-inspired eyeshadow look. “Well, this has been an absolute disaster. I feel like I’m losing clumps of eyeshadow every time I blink, and it feels sandy and irritating on my skin. But you have got to give it to Togari: I have never seen a Palette that features colours that are eye-biting and yet completely bland before. Though the surprise gift of a long, brown hair inside the sealed Palette wasn’t for me. But you know, if you see these Palettes in your local bargain bin, I’d say go for it.” He gave a cheeky wink, before rattling off his usual goodbyes, like and subscribe, yadda yadda.

Click.

Hisoka took the camera and set it by his computer. Before he could even think about editing, he must wipe away whatever the hell was in that shabby palette. Of course it wasn’t the worst make-up he had ever worn; it probably wouldn’t even make it in the bottom 10, he wasn’t here to make friends and spoon-feed his competition compliments. If a creator dares to churn out a subpar product, they have to deal with the consequences.

After practically subjecting himself to water torture via make-up remover towels, the man grabbed another whiteclaw from the fridge, and settled into his office chair. Digging through business emails was a boring, repetitive task, deleting promo-email after promo-email, practically begging him to promote some skin-care vitamins or boring phone app. Clicking the nails of his free hand against his desk, he tapped away at the delete button in a rhythm only known to him.

Finally reaching the bottom of his inbox, he switched to his private Inbox with a satisfied smile, an expected email already waiting for him. “From: I. Zoldyck: Roma Fashion Week Promos”.  To my private Email, dear Illumi? How shockingly Intimate~ Hisoka mocked in his head while opening the mail.  

“Hisoka.

Attached are 3 Designs I plan to show off at the show. Chose one for the collaboration and let me know in time.

Sincerely,

Illumi Zoldyck.”

Under his signature, 3 files were lined up, boringly titled “Design Roma 1/2/3”. Hisoka opened the first file and is greeted by a 2-piece suit with a light pink base colour, and blue-green flower highlights that frame the pockets and seams of the jacket, and the belt of the pants. Not bad, not bad.

The second file contained another 2-piece suit, this time with a black base colour, and a repeating roman-vase pattern in eye-catching blues, pinks, and oranges. Lovely pattern, and what a revealing jacket cut~. He was sure he had found his favourite, already planning a matching make-up look. But it wouldn’t hurt looking at the last design for pity, right?

Hisoka audibly gasped in a mixture of shock and flattery and laid a hand over his heart to complete the star performance. Staring back at him was a beautiful white-jeans design, patterned with colourful card-suits dotting the jacket and pants. The pattern was ever so slightly washed out, faking a vintage look. This is it. Mine. His heart was beating through his chest, and for the first time in a while he was truly speechless.

He had 3 more weeks until the show, but his mind was already bursting with inspiration, and when he later laid in bed, he couldn’t contain his grin as he texted.

“Hisoka: You already know which one im choosing~♥️♥️♥️”

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

Gon had been streaming for a good hour or so, talking excitedly to his chat about the new Season of Fortnite, admiring new skins that he was definitely going to try and get. Every new pass just meant a new challenge for him to prove himself, and it was undeniable that it was satisfying to work and game hard to get what he wanted. Just as he was about to ask chat if he should go another row, or change games for the night, a discord message drew his attention away.

“Kil: Yo, wanna team up? :p”

Filled with even more excitement, Gon returned his attention back to his stream. “Everyone, today we are going to feature a special guest!”

[thadelightfulone]

The Firm - Epilogue

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

A/N: Happy Birthday to Me and this is my gift to you!

--- Two Years Later ---

"E! Come on, we need to go," LaNyah yells from in front of the full-length mirror. She is putting on her silver and black dangling earrings and smoothing out her dress. She chose an ombre maxi dress that starts as lilac at her neckline and ends in a deep purple at her feet. Her hair is pulled up in a slick top bun with a few loose curls on the sides.

Erik comes up behind her in black pants and an unbuttoned lavender dress shirt. "I think you forgot something." He looks at her through the mirror as his eyes meet her gaze. He holds her necklace in his hands, and it matches her bracelets and earrings. She holds her hand out to take it from him. "No, I got this. Stand still." Nyah is watching him through the mirror, tilting her head back as Erik drapes the necklace in front of her. Closing the clasps, he leans down and kisses her neck.

“Thank you, now go finish getting dressed.” She tries to step forward as Erik pulls her by the waist into him. “Erik, we do not have time for this.”

"You sure about that?" He continues to kiss along her jawline. Nyah closes her eyes and relaxes into his embrace. Erik grabs her hips, and LaNyah softly moans at his actions.

Pulling his hands away, she turns around, facing him, "No, we do not." She pulls his shirt together and buttons the top while fixing the collar. "You got the rest of this, right?" She pats him on the chest, "Good." Erik chuckles as she sashays away from him.

“Wow, really babygirl?" He finishes buttoning his shirt and looks at himself in the mirror. If someone had bet him money two years ago that he would be in a serious relationship, he would have double-downed and lost. But here he is, a California resident and living with his amazing girlfriend. He moved the base of his operations, and Green set him up with space in the GBI building.

Erik ended up buying the condo he stayed at when he first got to Irvine. That's where they are now. He decided to move after a year of long-distance and back & forth, traveling to visit one another. When he told LaNyah what he wanted to do, he told her that it would only happen if she moved in him. She was out of her apartment by the time his plane landed the following week.

Moving the business was the most natural part; he can work from anywhere. So, his former home office is now one of three satellite offices for his consulting company. He no longer offers personal security, but he has plenty of employees to call if needed for any job. There is only one person he wants to protect these days. He heads to the closet door to grab his jacket as Nyah comes back into the room.

“Really, E? I have been gone like five minutes, why aren’t you ready yet?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” Nyah was packing items into her clutch when she stops.

“You can’t think and get dressed at the same time?" She taps her watch, "Time is ticking." Erik jumps at her, swinging her around the room, causing her to laugh. "What is it, man?"

“Nothing.” He sets her down, putting his hands on her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck, “I love you.” She looks up at him and smiles.

“And I love you, too. But we gotta go. NOW!” She pecks his lips and walks back out of the room, leaving a smitten Erik behind. He will never tire of hearing that. He picks up his jacket and follows her out of the room.

Erik opens the passenger door for Nyah and gives her the presents when she is seated. He walks to his side of the car and jumps in. As he starts the car, he grabs Nyah's hand and kisses it before settling their intertwined hands on his lap. "So, why couldn't Ashley just celebrate her birthday with her husband?" LaNyah releases his grip and slaps his shoulder.

"Don't be mean. You know this is a special birthday for Ashley, and she wanted to be with friends and family tonight."

“Everyone turns 40. So, again I ask – what is the point?” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her balling her hand into a fist. He catches it mid-air before she touches him, lowering her hand.

“True, but at least she is letting me help throw her a birthday party unlike someone I know,” she blinks and pouts at him. Erik looks at her and shakes his head. It was the only time he didn’t let her have her way. He grabs her hand again.

“Fine. Fine. But we aren’t gonna be there all night, right?” Nyah snatches her hand away as he laughs and puts his hand back on the wheel.

She looks out the window excited about heading over to Ashley’s house to celebrate her birthday with their friends. A few days ago, when they met for their weekly lunch date, Ashley shared something with her. And it has been hard as hell keeping it from everyone, let alone, Erik.

Erik. She turns to stare at his profile while he drives. It’s been about two years since they decided to take a chance on one another. And it’s been one of the best decisions she’s made. They have had a few struggles, especially since they started long-distance, but it helped each of them realize how much they meant to the other. You know that whole, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' She is a firm believer in that now.

Right around the time, Erik moved to Cali; she was offered a team leader position for the Accounting department. Six people now report to her about the same accounts that changed her life forever. And Stacey finally trained her on all that other system access, as well. Word has it -- they are the only two who have that kind of access for the company besides the CEO. She smiles, knowing that Alex trusts her that much.

They pull up to the house, and Erik looks over at Nyah. "Ready?" She nods, and he gets out, going to her side and opening the door. As he pulls her out, he lifts her up to him and kisses her.

“Will you stop?” She giggles at his pout, “What is with you, being so playful today?” She eyes him as he sets her back down.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Uh huh,” she was about to continue when they hear footsteps running towards them. “Hi sweetheart!” LaNyah bends down to pick up the little girl, smiling big and bright with her two front teeth missing. She’s Alex and Ashley’s 3-year-old foster daughter, Tiffany. She has been in their life for about 6 months now.

“Hi Nyah. Mr. Erik.” She giggles as Erik pulls on her pigtails.

“Why can’t I be Uncle E or something?” Tiffany looks up at him and shakes her head. He whispers into Nyah’s ear, “One day." She shifts Tiffany onto her hips, and she curls her tiny body around Nyah.

“Guess Mr. Erik has to take the presents in the house.” She laughs as he makes a face at her, “I seem to have my hands full.”

He pecks her cheek, “Go on. I got everything.” He watches as the two of them walk away. As he enters the house, Erik sees LaNyah talking with Stacey and Ashley while still holding onto Tiffany. He set Ashley's gift on the table and takes the wine and whiskey to the kitchen, where he finds Alex and Jai hanging around.

“Yes, thank god. I ran out of my good stuff last week." Alex rushes Erik for the bottle of whiskey, and Erik puts the wine in the fridge.

"You ok, guy? I thought family life was going great."

“It is, it is. Don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wish we got a boy instead. You know I don’t balance more than one woman well.” Erik and Jai burst out laughing. “Not funny,” Alex replies as he pulls three glasses from the cupboard and pours them all a drink.

Erik daps up Jai, “So, how is the art world treating you?”

“Very well, man. I can’t complain.” She takes a sip of her drink, “I have a gallery opening next month. You and Nyah gotta come through.”

“She wouldn’t allow us to miss it.” He laughs into his drink.

"Who won't allow what?" Stacey asks as she and LaNyah enter the kitchen. She walks over to Jai and grabs her drink, sniffing it. She gags, "Nyah, they already started drinking the hard shit." Nyah passes Alex to go to the fridge, pulling the bottle of wine out, and Stacey nods. “So, what did we interrupt?”

Jai takes her drink back from Stacey. "I was just telling them about my show starting next month," Jai answers, wrapping her arm around her.

"Did she tell you that I was her inspiration for her latest works?" Stacey chirps, and Nyah laughs. Erik reaches behind him to get three wine glasses for her. She hands him the bottle of wine to open as well. Nyah watches the newest couple in the group.  

Stacey and Jai met at one of the Paint & Sips that they went to, Jai was the local artist of that evening’s painting. Then after months of flirting and ‘lunch’ dates, they became an item. They have been together for about a year now, and LaNyah has never seen Stacey happier.

“Aye, don’t get drunk before we eat.” Ashley walks into the kitchen without Tiffany. “I can’t believe you guys.” Nyah walks over and hands Ashley a glass of wine, “That’s better. Dinner’s ready.” She pushes everyone towards the dining room.

Around a meal of lamb chops, roasted vegetables, and various salad options, the group catches up on all new happenings since they last got together a month ago. As dinner winds down, they take their dessert and conversation to the living room. Alex brings Ashley’s gifts over while Jai and Stacey refresh drinks.

Lifting up a big gift bag, Ashley pulls out a painted tote bag, and inside is a small paint set complete with a wooden palette and various sized brushes. She looks over at Jai, "I can go get Tiffany since you want to bring gifts for her instead of the birthday girl."

Jai lifts her tumbler towards her, “Mama’s gift is still in the bag.”

Ashley digs back inside, pulling out two envelopes. She opens one card, and concert tickets fall out. She picks one up off her lap, “To see Masego and SiR? OMG, I have been waiting for him to go back on tour.” She stops, “Wait, I can’t go. What about Tiffany?”

“Mommy deserves a day out with the girls.” Stacey responds, “Besides, I am celebrating my promotion. I can’t do that without my girls.” She waves her to open the other envelope. Ashley opens it and finds a spa day package for the works.

"Well, when you put it that way. Mommy does deserve all of this." She holds the cards to her chest as they all laugh. "But, I don't get the painting tote bag."

Looking towards Stacey, “So, we couldn’t help getting her something, too.” Jai answers. “And you can never start them too young.”

“Wow. Who else has something for her?” Ashley asks. LaNyah raises her hands as Erik points to her, “Unbelievable." Everyone laughs at that. Ashley reaches for their box. She pulls out a beautifully crocheted infinity scarf in shades of pinks, reds, and browns. Ashley cracks up with laughter. “OMG, no you didn’t.”

"Yeah, I finally got around to making you that scarf," Nyah speaks up. “I think this is much better than anything I could have given you at that time.”

“Erik, how many do you have?” Alex whispers to him, and Erik shakes his head in response and sits back with his arm behind LaNyah.

“Stop that, you, too. He loves everything I have ever made for him.” Erik sips his drink, not making any eye contact with her, “Okay. I see you. Ashley, there is more in the box.” Nyah points to it.

"I see that. And actually, we have an announcement to make." Alex helps her stand up, and Ashley holds his hand before looking at everyone, “So, we have made the decision to move forward and adopt Tiffany.” The group cheers for them as Stacey and Nyah rush Ashley.

“Great, because you already know that’s my niece.”

“And we all love her to pieces.” Stacey and Nyah blurt out.

Alex accepts pats on the back from Erik and Jai. “So, does this mean I need to bring a bottle every time I see you?” Erik jokes.

“Nah, I love my girls. I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.” He takes a drink of whiskey, “Why do you think I hired Stacey to become the new COO. I know she will be able to handle things for the entire company while I focus on my growing family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Erik looks over at LaNyah, who shoved Ashley’s box at her. “And that’s a great look for Stacey, too. She deserves it.”    

“Open, open, open.” She begins to chant.

“OK Nyah.” Ashley pulls the final item out, and it’s a smaller version of the scarf that LaNyah made for her. She tears up immediately.

"I mean, my little sister has to be styling just like her Mommy." Nyah pulls Ashley into a big hug. All is quiet for a few moments, while the trio wipes tears from their eyes. Stacey runs to get some Kleenex.

“What is that?” Stacey yells upon return. Everyone turns to look at her trying to figure out who she is addressing. She reaches out and grabs LaNyah’s hand, “This ma’am.” She lifts her hand to show off the diamond on her right hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, well, well.” Alex looks over at Erik, who grins as he turns back to him and Jai.

"I was gonna tell you, but I just wanted to keep it to myself for a while," Nyah answers back.  

“What?” He keeps his eyes on the giggly group of women.

“So, details. How did he do it? When did he do it?” Ashley pulls Nyah over to the couch with Stacey following them.

“Congratulations, E.” Jai pats him on the back. “Guess this is turning into one big celebration.”

"He proposed last month. It was simple and sweet." Nyah smiles, thinking about that night. "That's it. There's nothing more to tell."

"Thanks Jai." Erik looks at Alex, who is still staring at him. "Man, what?" Alex just shakes his head at him.

"Come on, Nyah." Ashley snaps her fingers in her face but realizes she is staring at Erik. "I'm not surprised, but it took him long enough,” she turns speaking to Stacey.

When Erik makes eye contact with her, Nyah blows him a kiss. He grabs it from the air and puts it in his jacket pocket, near his heart. Returning to the conversation, “Nothing, I just love my girl.”

A/N/N: So, we have come to the end of Erik and LaNyah’s journey. Thank you to everyone who has come along and enjoyed the ride. It has been so much fun. 

Taglist: @killmongersaidheyauntie @muse-of-mbaku @panthergoddessbast @youreadthatright @princessstevens @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stark-red19 @kreolemami @bidibidibombaclaat @iamrheaspeaks @missumuch1918 @simplyyamberr @cherryblossomgirl20 @ajspencer1892 @chrismarcs @loosewindmill @sydneebleu @semianta @eyeknowmywrites @alexundefined @itsjustmezari @goddessofthundathighs @guccixcucci @kissmyafropuff @gimmeface @fd-writes @jozigrrl @soufcakmistress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @shaekingshitup @localtrapgod @post-woke @theesotericqueen 

[jeswii]

Sinnam Kevu - Chapter 1- Questions

Summary:  Random snips from my brain for the Trooper story about a trooper who grew up on a planet that in the last war was a constant battle ground between the Republic and Empire. She's been fighting the Empire since as soon as she could walk. Semi slow burn for F!trooper x Aric.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Summary:  From the rookie in the team to the leader of the squad after the rest of the team's defection causes Aric to have some questions about the pull his new CO has.

Notes: The planet Sinnam is from, Trelin, is a planet I made up. It's located in the outer rim and is a popular trading hub that became a point of interest for both the Empire and Republic in the last war.

Cross Posted on Ao3

~~~~

The Senate Tower. Not somewhere Sinnam was excited to set foot in again, but this was where the hunt for Tavis and the others sent her. So far, she had avoided him. Up until the day she couldn't.

After neutralizing the nerve agents a city gang collected, she retrieved a call from the General. There were a few Senators that had uncovered what had happened to Havoc Squad and now are filing for an informal inquiry. She was mandated to speak there, but the more of her mission that was public, that harder it was going to get.

When she entered that room, she knew there was no coincidence as to who was there. One of the three Senator was a man she's been avoiding for years.

"Lieutenant Kevu, make yourself comfortable." He stated "On behalf of the Senate of the Galactic Republic, I want to thank you for appearing on such short notice for this informal inquiry."

She took a seat, not letting herself appeared fazed. "I'm just doing my duty Sir."

"I assure you we will not hold you from your duties any longer than necessary Lieutenant."

They asked pretty basic questions. Did she serve with them? Did they defect? Where they unstable? Could anyone have seen it coming? Did it have anything to do with Ando Prime?

Sinnam avoided most of the questions, trying to keep with damage control. Then she was dismissed.

But that didn't stop him. "Lieutenant," He said following her out of the conference. "I was wondering if we can have a word in private?"

Private. That was the only time they talked wasn't it? "Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of Sergeant Jorgan. If you can't, then we have nothing to talk about."

He paused a moment "Congrats on the promotion."

"Thank you" She said firmly

A silent set between them. She wasn't going to put the effort into carrying this conversation. The man rubbed his beard "I know you couldn't tell me you were on Coruscant but since you're here and I know you're here maybe we can have dinner some time? You still haven't tried my cooking."

Cooking. As in they would be in his home. "I'm sorry Senator, I don't see much of an opening in my schedule right now and given your inquiry into Havoc Squad I'm not sure it would be appropriate."

"Okay." He cleared his throat "I'll likely see you later Lieutenant."

"Until next time Senator."

Aric had to hurry down the hall when that conversation ended. Sinnam's pace sped up to put some distance between them. She stopped at the refresher before going to Garza's office to get a minute to herself.

Grabbing the sink, she sighed. In the mirror she examined her own face. Half Zabrak. Half human. No one noticed the human part but she did. Her eyes weren't quite right. "Just one asshole Sin. Can't let him get to you."

The door creaked open and closed "I'll say." Aric commented "I don't mean to pry into your personal life, Sir, but he seems too old for you and given the inquiry it's not professional. I know you're young for a CO, but that's a big mistake. And that's all ignoring that he's a Senator and they always complicate our operations."

A laugh escaped her. She could berate him for being in the woman's bathroom right now but that wasn't going to help. "I appreciate the concern Sergeant, I'm afraid you're understanding of the situation is backwards."

He crossed his arms "Want to explain it?"

All the cheeriness in her expression dropped. "We have to report in. I appreciate the concern."

~~~~

The topic wasn't brought up again until they were on their way to save a senator from Wraith.

He took a seat across from her in the main room "You know, I reviewed your record before that ZR-57 op. Been meaning to discuss it with you. Been fighting the Empire since you could carry a blaster, running with a rebellion on a backwater. Did good there, running them off the planet. So you can kill Imperials, but that guerilla mentality won't cut it in the big time."

Sinnam shrugged "You saw how I handled things. I know what I'm doing."

Coruscant and Ord Mantel went to plan, he'll give her that. "Taking on that sep army single handedly takes guts, not leader ship. I saw you second guessing yourself about those cyborgs. A leader has to choice between completing the mission and loosing men. Completing the mission and civilian casualties. You have to have your head on straight and know where that line is."

Her jaw tightened as he talked. "I do"

"When this squad grows past you and me, people are going to have to trust your orders to the letter." He added "Not question them. They need to have their full trust in you and for that to happen you have to have full trust in yourself. A squad needs that kind of commitment to operate effectively."

Well this was going well then. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"

He shook his head "I will always give you a hundred percent. That's not the issue. Havoc Squad is the Republic's most elite outfit. We tackle the missions no one else can handle. Traitor or no, Tavis is a tough act to follow. You think you're up to it?"

"Certainly." She said firmly.

He paused a few minutes. Sinnam didn't mind the quiet, in fact she generally preferred it, but she was getting a bit weirded out. "Is something else bothering you?"

Jorgan nodded "That Senator. Arnus. You said I had it wrong. I didn't see another explanation until I remembered something strange in your service record. Your father wasn't unlisted, it was classified. Even for me before the demotion. Either he's high in the military or a senator with some pull."

A lump formed in her throat and she looked away from him. She could shut him down and not talk about this, but her and Jorgan were on the same team together.

She needed to trust him.

But she needed protect herself as well. She composed herself and looked back to him with a confident demeanor. "Jorgan, am I supposed to be connecting dots from that last conversation to this one or are these two different points?"

He shrugged "It crossed my mind."

That was one of her biggest worries. "Nepotism? Seriously?"

"He classified his name for a reason."

She rolled her eyes "Do you know how I met him?" She didn't wait for Jorgan to respond "Back when I enlisted in the Republic, in basic training, there was an accident and when I was being treated there were some medical complications. The doctor took a DNA test to try to find a match for my father. We found him, he sent records and a million credits for me to never talk to him again or tell anyone. It was an election year."

His brow knit together "What did you do?"

Years ago, she had shame for what she did. Now, after the fact, she knew she couldn't change it. Might as well stand in it. "I was sixteen. That was more money than I've ever seen and my home planet had been ravaged by the Empire. The Republic wasn't working fast enough for me. I took the money. Paid off my mother's medical bills. Gave my baby brother a college fund. Sent the rest to Trelin relief. Didn't talk to him again until a few years later."

"Sixteen?" He asked

She's come this far, might as well finish it "Yes. You can add lying on my application to the military to that report about suspected nepotism and incompetence. I'm two years younger than the Republic thinks. Couldn't enlist until I'm eighteen but fighting on Terlin had finished. We won."

He shook his head "I said it crossed my mind, not that I'm writing you up."

Sinnam got up from her seat and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen that was in the same room they were already in "Such a fine line you walk. So it's just accusing me of nepotism?"

Her sarcastic comments weren't something he was expecting in private. When she arrived on Ord Mantel he had heard from her last commander that she was always professional. So far he'd seen it too.

Until now "Look, you've got a great record. From rebellion to enlisted, you've risen fast. You're just young. Apparently even younger than I thought. And the leader of the most elite squad is a lot of pressure for anyone. I just wanted to know. You could have done everything I read. Or someone might have overstated for a payday."

This could get messy if he really didn't trust her. "My biological father has nothing to do with my military career. Even if he cared enough to do it, the risk of someone exposing that is far too much risk for him. He doesn't want any tracible connection between us. Or did you not notice how he offered to cook? He doesn't want to be seen in public with me."

Now he was starting to feel a bit guilty "Alright."

She took a deep breath "Are we done then?"

Jorgan nodded "I'll see you when we arrive, Lieutenant."

~~~~

The Senator was safe. Wraith escaped. Garza sent them to another world. The journey there was two days long. The first full day was silent on the ship. The two of them avoided each other until a sparing session the two of them had planned before the tense conversation about nepotism. Basic hand to hand training to better understand each other's skills before they're relevant in the field.

Sinnam dressed down into a t-shirt and shorts. Jorgan had never seen her outside of uniform. There were scars that trailed up her neck and face that he saw but there were far more on her arms and legs. Deeper, older, and more intensive.

While she was stretching out, she saw him starring at her leg specifically. "An orbital strike on our holdout on Balmorra three years ago."

He remembered reading about it. Hospitalized it for five months. "They pulled out not long after that didn't they?"

Her head dropped. She could feel the heat across her body once again. "It was in Imperial hands by the time I woke up a week later. Only survivor of my unit and we didn't even help those people."

"That's rough."

She stood up straight and stretched out her neck "It's what I signed up for."

They nodded to each other and started circling the mats. "No claws right?" She asked with a smile

He shrugged "Wouldn't need them anyways."

A laugh escaped Sinnam as she took a shot at him. Straight for his hips. They struggled each other for control of who would hit the mat. "Sure about that?" She asked as she tripped him over her foot set behind his leg as he took a step back.

Jorgan fell to the ground and fought against a pin. In the situation he got himself into by not watching her close enough it was going to be hard.

After a few moments of struggling he tapped the mat.

Sinnam got off of him and helped him up to his feet. "Not bad Aric." He said with a heavy breath

He wiped sweat from his brow and stretched out his shoulder "Aric?"

"It's your name isn't it?" She asked with a smile "We're off duty for another thirty hours. No point to stay so up tight. We can have a bit of fun, actually enjoy each other's company. As long as you're okay with that."

"Sure. Off duty."

She laughed again. He didn't know he would like her laugh so much. "Is relaxing and making friends really that hard for you?"

He cleared his throat "No, it's not that. Just after what I said, I wasn't sure you'd want to be friendly."

Sinnam shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water "I figure if you're not sure about my rep, I'll just do what I do and you'll see. I got nothing to prove, you don't have an issue with me when we're on the job, and we're going to have a lot of time together. No point holding a grudge over something that I admit does look sketchy."

Tossing it over to him, Aric caught the bottle and took a sip. After, he tossed it back. "You did take his money."

She took a drink from the same bottle and paused "Fair. Want to go another round?"

~~~~

Nothing like a nice ache from getting thrown down on the mats a few times. Aric was stretching back out when they were done "Got to hand it to you Sir, I didn't think I'd go oh for three against you. I thought I'd at least get one."

She chuckled as she took a seat "Sorry Aric, one of us is a scrapper and the other spent half of his career as a sniper."

He threw a towel at her "Thanks Sir."

Pulling it off her face, she shook her head "Hey, you did pretty well for a sniper." She used the towel to dry her face "And you know it wouldn't kill you to call me Sinnam."

"I know Sir."

[yue-muffin]

Time Raiders (2016)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

In my quest to consume the entirety of the DMBJ franchise available in English, I have decided to start with the non-canon movie because at least this one has an ending, unlike the train wreck that is Reboot/Chongqi’s pacing. I will probably be bitter about that for all eternity, but I digress. I heard good things about the movie from the bird app, and as I am a Pingxie shipper at heart, I decided to finally watch this one.

P A R T O N E

The cut-in animation to the title was gorgeous, I do so love the qilin in every adaptation. It’s particularly striking here with the gold outline and geometric, maze-like lines. It looks like the cards at the very beginning were being arranged in the image of this qilin.

My first reaction upon seeing white people in a dmbj adaptation is: oh no, the English, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear perfect English that matches the actor’s lips! What a miracle, haha. I remember The Lost Tomb 2 being the worst for how many lines had to be in English, sob.

These look so cool. I see we start off with a good old “seeking immortality” antagonist, and an obsessed collector who has dedicated his whole life to this apparently. As usual, he is a scumbag threatening the locals.

The old guy’s accented English is also better than TLT2, ha. The breathy/nasal quality is not at all uncommon. I don’t know what language the locals speak though.

Me, immediately: Zhang Qiling already??

I know he appears in rather early in TLT1, TLT2, and Reboot/Chongqi, but he’s so often mysteriously absent or stuck behind a gate (or in Reboot’s case, put on a bus) that I got excited, ok.

My favorite Zhang Qilings are the cold-looking pretty boy types in terms of my mental image of the character, but this one is also very easy on the eyes and as usual, unfazed in the face of danger coming at him with a knife. This is the only series in which I’m not bothered by the constant cast change between adaptations (unlike Ever Night), I suppose since it’s been this way from the start.

I’m interested in seeing how the backstories differ from canon. It’s actually rather interesting that this is pretty much an official AU, like that’s kind of wild as a concept. I’m used to the late 1990s/early 2000s anime adding new characters and changing plot points and endings everywhere, but Time Raiders takes it a step further.

Zhang Qiling being an ultra-competent badass who doesn’t even need a weapon to take the bad guys down never changes, no matter the universe. He steamrolls everyone, no questions asked.

Did he- he break the blade with his bare hands hahaha. Oh, yup, and a Zhang Qiling with a weapon is even more dangerous. I see those severed fingers. Such a good fight scene and we’re not even 5 minutes into the movie.

I love how he could have simply fired the arrow while he was still on the statue, then jumped down, but he had to be Extra and fire while he was jumping off haha.

It- the divine piece was right there?? By “beneath the statue” I would have thought it would at least be under it, not in a convenient little slot on the side of the altar area haha. So Zhang Qiling’s mission is to destroy the divine piece(s)? To, um, save the world apparently.

WHO ARE YOU? What an excellent question to ask a Zhang Qiling (and that staring into the mirror shot, too.)… I wonder if this one even knows - it’s possible he doesn’t have his signature amnesia here.

Wait- a gate? I think it’s in a cave or something in the novels, but gates have significance in DMBJ. The cinematography is really nice in these mountain shots. I know nothing about film, but I like the shots in the snowy mountains.

This Zhang Qiling knows and practices martial arts on screen! You would think he’d pull some moves normally, but in the drama-adaptations he tends to just beat people up as efficiently as possible. Sometimes with his sword. Other times he just fights ‘em. I have to admit Jing Boran looks excellent going through some forms. He nailed the force and power underlying every movement, then exploding outward with a strike. I do like the impression it leaves.

I, on the other hand, am an absolute noodle and look ridiculous when I do martial arts.

What in the world is happening in this flashback scene with the weird CGI qilin. Ah, it’s when he received his tattoo. That was super dramatic.

Wushanju is looking real edgy with the heavy iron gate on the interior, haha.

He is puzzling (ha!) over those cards so intensely you’d think it was a thousand piece puzzle instead haha. You’re almost there! Just a few more to finish the qilin!

Aw, is this our Wu Xie? Haha his facial hair is- hm. But I love his voice it’s so soft. Really fits that “Mr. Naive” vibe.

Is that. Is that the author of the series. I found out that he makes cameos in almost all (if not all of) the adaptations!

NO. ONLY I CAN FINISH THE PUZZLE. HANDS OFF BUDDY.

Why are there so many pigeons in here. Who let them inside.

A writer, who came to hear his story and turn it into a novel- HA yup it’s the author.

“This should be a story about me and him.”

Ahh I’m loving it already. DMBJ is the ultimate bromance story. Fair warning, I do ship Pingxie so my shipper goggles will be on throughout the movie. But even without shipping, you do have to admit the series is a bromance underneath all the mystery – between the Iron Triangle, between Wu Xie and Xiaoge.

This Wu Xie is a photographer and that is sort of adorable. Already there’s a theme emerging of needing to record events and telling stories. Interesting that he wants to turn his memories into a novel to record his experiences, because otherwise he’s afraid those memories might turn into a mere story in his own head. Wu Xie, that’s a worrying mindset.

Those ancient mask things always make me crack up, I don’t know why.

Ooh, background about Wu Xie’s birth into the Wu family. I’ve never read up to the part in the books where they go into his place in the family in detail. To be fair, his grandfather had three sons and only one of them had any kids – and Wu Xie is his parents’ only child. So, he becomes the only one who can really carry on the family legacy. Aw, I really like seeing his extended family present though! In the dramas we only ever get either his Second or Third Uncle, and he rarely ever mentions his parents even though they’re alive.

And there’s his namesake! The origin of his nickname, and the irony once the story gets into the Sha Hai timeline.

Wu Xie was a bit of a rascal as a kid, haha. To be fair he has a pretty sharp tongue in the novels and is mostly a pure cinnamon roll in the early dramas.

Little Wu Xie in a suit is so adorable. Nooo kid don’t go into locked up abandoned places. He’s already so adventurous haha. Seems that it’s not actually abandoned judging by all the lights on, but.

UH. MASKED MAN BEHIND YOU. I think he wants that item back. This is why you don’t go into abandoned places, kid. He definitely does not learn his lesson though. Also why are you still holding onto that thing, just drop it, I think he wants it back.

Haha he kept one of the coins.

WOAH. Every month someone in your family dies?? That’s uh- sort of traumatic. Also that would be a really good first line for a novel…Just saying. I do love the singing though.

Oh, the Nine Families exist in this universe too! They even give a quick explanation about the ranking system.

Oh yeah, I love how Wu Xie is such a nerd for all this knowledge of ancient texts and tombs. And YES HE FINALLY DOCUMENTS STUFF FOR ONCE.

Uncle Three looked dead for a moment there, scared the shit out of me too.

VAMPIRE MOTHS? Oh I hate bugs I would not be okay lol. WHOOPS. You guys are really good at reading ancient texts on the fly lol.

That’s the mask he has in the beginning of the film, isn’t it. NO DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. AHHH. So you just put it on your face?? Well that was a stupidly simple way to open the door. I’m guessing the creator didn’t care if anyone opened it.

This guy just severed his own arm, ok…and how many years later is his hand still clinging to it? UH. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. Then he proceeds to steal the box thing.

Ah the white dude again. I am so happy there is GOOD ENGLISH though haha.

Oh, hi Zhang Qiling. Just hanging out on a rooftop I see.

He looks so melancholy. Someone give him a hug! This adaptation makes him more human, less stoic robotic superhuman, I noticed. You rarely see him eat or drink anything in the other adaptations, but here he’s just chilling on a rooftop having some drinks haha. It’s ok. I love all the Zhang Qilings.

WHAT THE HELL, LIGHTNING? What the hell is this high tech machinery haha. Eight days? Coincidentally eight days after sitting in a tomb for how many years.

That is a very Extra bookcase to hold a book that apparently has ALL the secrets.

WOW that is a fancy notebook. It looks so beat up in the other versions haha. In this one, it even gets its own hidden shelf in a giant portable bookshelf!

The props for this franchise are so cool and detailed. I always wish they would show more of the creative process in the BTS, I’m such a nerd for that stuff. The Longest Day in Chang’an was pretty good at that, which is half of my enjoyment of that show haha!

I’m also still pleasantly surprised they bothered to incorporate other languages. I’m not sure what the Snake Lady and the old man in the beginning were speaking, but at least the English is good.

I can’t believe they worked in a steampunk chastity belt this movie went all out, huh. Also with these weirdly high tech structures and lightning and moving tomb structures.

And all the pieces start coming together! So that’s why it’s believed they hold the secret to immortality. What a steampunk-looking key.

Is that a writing desk??

Oh, they’re getting a team together to go tomb raiding! Ha, forget money! You may or may not end up dying on this adventure, so who cares about money, right.

He’s so cute standing there with his camera. Look at the little smile as he watches everything going on!

It’s a desk and a storage container?? Oh, there are ~qualifications~ to going on tomb raiding. Makes sense. That is the oddest looking sword.

Must appreciate Zhang Qiling’s fingers in every adaptation. They look very strong and steady here. Let’s not talk about the slooow trailing across the handle.

Wow did you really just throw sand in his face. Have we not learned not to mess with Zhang Qiling after he trounced that first guy who attacked him. I love the fight scenes so much after the bore-fest that was Reboot/Chongqi’s second half of Season 1.

Super pretty, but why did it cause him to stop and stare in the middle of the fight?

This is like a Final Fantasy sword haha. Also I think you should stop while you’re ahead, why did you think a table would stop this dude. (Hey, it’s Da Kui! He was in the novel but not TLT1.).

It’s HERE. Their first meeting. How did he know the coin was on that cord? It wasn’t visible, I don’t think. But uh. That was a hilarious move on his part, he is so Extra?? He just casually flicks the necklace off with his big-ass sword and it drops into his hand. Then casually goes “oh, here, you dropped this” as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it coming off in the first place!!

HERE IT COMES. The unnecessarily long eye contact. Pingxie in every adaptation needs a Staring Into Your Eyes scene.

Real smooth.

Ahh this Wu Xie is such a cutie. He’s like a puppy.

WHAT. Third Uncle, I can’t believe you let him tag along so easily haha. In the beginning he was scolding Wu Xie to never get involved in tomb business, then what happens? They’re going tomb raiding!!

Next Up: to the tomb we go! This can’t end badly or anything what are you talking about.

[artisticestheticreads]

ROXANNE: Chapter Two

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

TO CATCH UP, PRESS THIS.

For Character Face Claims, PRESS HERE.

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

SONG RECOMMENDATION: The Box by Roddy Ricch

WORD COUNT: 4660

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

“Which ones?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ______________________________________________________________

SATURDAY NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your love and faithfulness, 

along with Your goodness and mercy, 

surround me daily, 

so I will not fear whatever might come against me. 

My trust is in You, God, 

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

Amen. Grant, O Lord, 

thy protection and in protection, strength.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What you mean?”

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

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

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

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

*𝕋𝔸𝔾𝔾𝔼𝔻 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼𝕊*

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