#the main guy in this show is too hot it's unsettling

[benjenren]

I'm watching the last kingdom and it's a very different vibe for ewan mitchell from hotd:

[iveseenstrangerthings]

must be love - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: just a shorter imagine about a reader who works at a diner and Steve comes in with the rest of the friendship group (which you’re also part of). There’s a mutual pining between Steve and reader and eventually Steve decides to do something about it, just a lil fluffy imagine which got me going

warnings: brief descriptions of food and eating

word count: 2.5k

notes: shout out to one of my fave SNL skits of Debbie Downer thx for playing a small part in this imagine. if anyone has any ideas for an imagine plsss request i’d be happy to do some requests !! have a great day :) master list here

                                                   ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“Have a great night, guys!” You call as the most miserable family you’ve ever served in your entire time of being at the diner slumps out the door. A small laugh escapes your lips, almost in disbelief at what you’ve just put up with, as you start to clear their plates. Clinks of metal cutlery scraping fired ceramic plates fill your ears as you gather everything in an impressive stack. Guiltily, you take the gracious tip they’ve left you and you suddenly feel awful for whining to yourself about how unpleasant they’d been. 

Behind the till, you place their cash tip into the tip jar and then take the plates to the back to be washed. The heat of the kitchen still overwhelms you as you place the stack of dirty dishes into the hot sink full of water. “Busy out there, yet?” Deborah, the main pot washer calls out from the break room, her evening drawing out slowly in front of her at the slow stream of customers. 

“Not quite yet, still early though, Debs!” You call back cheerily, behind her back you all call her Debbie Downer, no matter what you say Deborah will reply with something depressing that ultimately kills the mood of the conversation.

Last month, when you told her you’d got a new cat, she had replied, “Feline AIDS is the biggest killer of domestic cats. Hope you got it checked!” 

Pushing back through the swing doors, you see a few more groups had been shown to tables and you were ready to go over to welcome them in. One group you see, is your friends. 

An unsettled feeling stews inside you, you love that they come here to see you, but you hate how it makes you feel pressured. Dustin loves the shakes, Mike and El the burgers, and Steve loves to come just to see you. Not that you know that. You’re partial to a spill of a drink, or a burger to the floor as it slips off the plates as you try to juggle too many, and you do not want Steve to see anything like that. You’ll just have to try not to show off your plate stacking skills this evening. 

Whipping your pad out from the front of your grease-stained apron, you walk to their table and paint a smile on your face, beaming from ear to ear. “Fancy seeing you here.” You approach the table and stand next to Steve, who looks up at you with a small smile painted across his rose-tinted lips. 

“Do you even need your little pad, surely you know my order by now.” Dustin is quick to comment on his food, he must be starving. He didn’t mean it in an asshole way, you’re close enough with each other that you rarely take offence to anything now.  

You guffaw at his request and scribble down his order. Peeking over the top of your pad to see Steve slightly shaking his head and raising his eyebrows at him. “Max?” Your attention goes to Max now, awaiting her order.

“Just a chocolate shake, please.” She offers, sheepishly pushing the menu back towards you. You don’t push her on an order for food, as you know any of the other waitresses would, you just nod and jot down the code for a shake. She’s still recovering from Vecna, and you understand her lack of appetite, which she is grateful for. 

After finally scribbling down the group’s order in your illegible scrawl, which is only decipherable by the chefs, you turn to Steve who’s perched on the end of the booth. “And for you, Steve?” Your pen is ready in between your fingers, and you give him a patient smile. 

He quickly skims the menu, even though he knew what he wanted the minute he walked in. He relays his order to you before gathering up all the menus, making your job easier and quicker. “Thanks.” You take them from his hands and his cheeks flush with colour. He’s aware of the intense rush of heat to his face, as is everyone else at the table. Your heart skips and beats intensely in your chest as you relish in the sight of his flushed cheeks. You know you caused his blush, and it gives you a slight spring in your step as you return to the host stand with their menus, knowing you have the power to make Steve Harrington tint with crimson. 

Whilst his ears are trained into the conversation happening around him, he lets his eyes divert to your whereabouts. He watches intently as you balance the plates with skill before setting them all down on a nearby table, talking to your customers with expressive hands and giving them an effervescent smile before turning and going to attend to another table. He sees how your tongue slips out of your mouth, ever so slightly, in concentration as you place glacier cherries onto the top of a sundae before carrying it to an over-excited child who claps with your arrival. Your smile at the young boy’s happiness and delightful manners stays on your face as you make your way back over to the serving hatch, the bell ringing out continuously with the Friday night rush of families, friends and couples. 

“Dude.” Dustin starts, leaning in closer to Steve as he breaks away from the rest of the conversation. Steve leans in too. “Why don’t you just ask her out already?” The prospect of doing such a thing is enough to bring sweat to the palms of his hands. Noticeably so that he has to rub his palms over his jeans to get the wetness off. His mouth feels dry, so he runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth and swallows what little saliva he has down his throat. “It’s so painfully obvious.” 

“What is?” He quickly retorts, turning his face too fast so it’s left lingering extremely close to Dustin’s. He pulls back slightly and let’s Dustin observe how you make him feel. The slight tinge of pink has returned to his cheeks, and he hasn’t stopped rubbing his palms over his jeans. Dustin just laughs slightly and gives his head a shake before giving Steve an insignificant nod, indicating your return with an armful of their food. 

“Alrighty.” You say as you settle their food down on the table, sliding the plates in the direction of whoever ordered what. The table digs into your stomach slightly as you stretch across to push El’s plate to her in the far corner of the booth, meaning you slightly lean across Steve. “‘Scuse me.” You gently breathe as you pull back, the smell of your perfume lingering after you push back from the table. He quickly inhales, wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then grabs the cutlery. “Max just let me grab your milkshake, I’ll be right back.” You dust your hands off on your apron as you make your way back to the hatch, collecting Max’s milkshake before ambling back over to their table. “There you go, sweetie.” You turn her shake towards her and her eyes light up, looking at Lucas with wide eyes in admiration at her humongous milkshake. You smile at the pair; glad Max has someone as sweet and caring as Lucas. “Okay, think that’s everything.” Your eyes skim everyone’s plates to ensure you haven’t missed anything. “Can I get you guys anything else? Anymore sauces?” 

Everyone replies with a cacophony of “No” and “Thank you” and you nod at them all, the boys already starting to shovel their food into their mouths as if they haven’t eaten for days. Max seems settled and Steve thanks you again before turning to his plate to eat. 

The next half an hour passes in a blur of sundaes, hamburgers, spilt milkshakes, and grumbles from Deborah as you take in another stack of greased up, ketchup smeared plates. As you stand at the host station placing clean cutlery neatly into white napkins, Steve wanders over to you as he opens his wallet in front of him. You place your hands down on the counter, keeping the napkin well wrapped up in your hands. “Hey!” You beam at him as he approaches. “Was everything okay with the meal?” You finally place the neatened cutlery and napkins into their box and return your full attention to Steve. 

“Was great. Five-star service, too.” The corner of his mouth hooks up into a smile and you reciprocate it broadly. “But I was wondering if I could pay now?”

You nod, taking their order from the small pile of tabs that you keep by the cash register. “Sure, you just wanna pay for yours?” You start keying in the price for Steve’s meal, but he cuts you off.

“No no, I’ll get everyone’s.” His offer is laced with the kindness he exudes, like warmth coming from a mug of coffee on a chilly day. 

Your head tilts to one side and your eyebrows lift slightly, “Steve, that’s awful kind of you but are you sure?” 

He nods, pulling out some cash he’s sure will cover it as he patiently lets you tot up the total for the meals on the register. “I’m totally sure.” He seems nervous, you notice from the corner of your eye his weight keeps shifting from one foot to the other. A small smirk forms on your lips, then quickly dissipates as you get ready to read the total out. 

He hands the cash over without question and tells you to keep the change for the tip jar. “Thank you so much.” You hold the cash in your hands gratefully as you look back at him. He’s still stood behind the host stand, his eyes travelling nervously around you. As you drop the cash into the jar, he leans onto the station with his elbows.

“I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? After you finish up?” The words tumble out of him quickly, but his question is laced with reluctance, like he’s already prepared himself for you to say no.

You study his features, the soft-hearted nature of him shines through. Him paying for all the kids’ meals and still asking you out afterwards, you feel on top of the world that he’s asked you. You think of how sublime it would be, spending the evening with Steve after work, but you don’t finish up until close tonight and you fear that would be too late for him, making him waste the night waiting for you. Although it would feel anything but a waste to Steve. A feeling of defeat washes over you as you worry this could be the only time Steve asks you to do something, and you fear he will think that you’re making an excuse. “I’m here till close tonight.” The words fall regretfully from your mouth, and you see his features soften with disappointment.

He nods quickly, pursing his lips as he pushes back from the counter, giving it a tap as he readjusts his posture, standing tall. “Oh, yeah. Totally. No that’s fine.” 

“But I could come over, when I’m done? I know it would be late, but I could bring us something to eat, and we could just, I dunno, chill?” 

Inside his chest, his heart soars around like someone has ignited him and soon the sweaty palms return. He came over here expecting you to say no, but he figured it was worth a shot. He did not expect, however, for you to then suggest another idea. His worries and anxieties about asking you now seem so farcical when all along you had wanted the same. 

He’s almost taken aback and has to bring himself back to the reality of being here in the diner, with you. “No, no it wouldn’t be too late. That’d be great.” He taps the counter again, the pair of you just looking over at one another, waiting for someone to speak. The pair of you never run out of things to say, never find it awkward to make conversation, never shut up really. But now, you both stand enthralled at the idea of spending some time together, just the two of you. 

“I’ll pick you up?” He poses the question to you in a gesture of what seems like good will, but it’s really just a way to get to spend more time with you. 

A torrent of emotion as intense as a winding river of rapids course through your veins and rise the temperature of your body, causing your skin to prickle intensely like tiny bolts of electricity hitting your skin. The flow of your emotional river ebbs, the source of the river stemmed as an anxious thought enters your stream of consciousness. You want Steve to see you at your best, not sweaty and smelling of cooking after a five-hour shift. “I will stink of grease.” You admit to him awkwardly. The perfume bottle you keep in your bag is a God send and you hope it will help to mask at least some of the smell.

He puffs air out between his lips and a smile softens across his face. “I really couldn’t care less.” He pushes his hands back from the counter where they’d been resting lazily, his muscles contracting underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt and you eye it quickly. The way the shape contorts and flexes under his skin as he pushes himself up from the counter again makes your eyes widen and your stomach throb. “Pick you up around ten, is that when you finish?” 

“Yes! That sounds great, thank you!” You radiate, your words landing like a verbal high five. 

He turns away, wordlessly, and gathers the kids up to leave. You click a few buttons on the register before finalising the receipt. They all wave and shout goodbyes as they make their way out of the diner, leaving as you turn to see your favourite group of regulars sat waiting for you to go over and take their order.

Outside, the wind turns to a chill and the clouds blow clear, leaving the sky black and bright above them. “So...” Dustin starts, elbowing Steve as they make their way to the car. The rest of the kids making their way to their buses home. “Did it work?”

Steve lifts his chin and laughs, “Quit making it sound like I’ve been doing some sort of experiment.” 

Dustin just rolls his eyes and waits, expectantly. 

“Yeah, it did ‘work’.” His fingers go up into air quotations before twisting the key to start the car with a low growl. “I’m seeing her after work.”

“TONIGHT?!” Dustin jeers in a high-pitched voice that makes his voice box squeal in delight. “Dude, how many times have I told you. She feels the same.”

“You think?” Steve quizzes, passing the conversation back to Dustin. 

“Hell yeah.” Dustin smirks, showing Steve all his ‘pearls’ as Dustin likes to say. “Offering to see you after a shift at the diner?” He tilts his head and brings his eyes down playfully. “Must be love.” His voice exudes sickly sweet confidence and Steve backs out the car park, turning up his radio and rolling the windows down, despite the chill. He drives back happily and hasn’t once tried to deny Dustin’s final remark. 

[anghraine]

I decided to watch Rings of Power and I still like it! General thoughts on the first episode:

This episode does a lot of heavy lifting to introduce everything in a somewhat rough and often disconnected, but engaging enough way.

The voice-over exposition at the beginning is obviously echoing the PJ FOTR one, but it's more awkward and sort of generically high fantasy. I still like it better because a) no Númenóreans were harmed in the making of this voice-over, b) retaining the Finrod-Galadriel age gap while simultaneously leaning into their sibling bond is really cute, c) Finrod using a heavy-handed metaphor in which the greatness of SHIPS figures largely seems entirely in character and also very Telerin (Eärwen's son!!!), and d) the overall story of how Valinorean Elves ended up in Middle-earth is so highly editorialized that it feels like the self-serving Noldor version of the story, which amuses me.

I enjoyed the introduction of present-day Galadriel. She's clearly the most impressive and competent person in the company she's leading while also being kind of unhinged, which I appreciate in a female protagonist. Good for her.

And I like that she's clearly this ancient being and her fixation on FIGHTING EVIL FOREVER is, in part, a product of being old and immortal and stuck in a singular mode of being. However, she's also right and the comparatively young people around her are being condescending assholes (like Gil-galad, but especially that one guy who semi-mutinied against her and is prodding her on the ship).

(Oh, and she has great hair. I actually don't care if the entire wig budget went to her specifically.)

The only one who seems to really feel bad about their dismissive treatment of her is Elrond, which tracks. The hints that he isn't seen as quite an equal ("Elf-lords only") feels silly, but it's not a huge deal for me. And I like that he and Galadriel are bros alongside the tension in her relationships with basically everyone. S2 Celebrían plssss

I still think the complaints about costuming/hair, and incessant comparisons to costuming in PJ!LOTR/WOT/whatever are largely pretty absurd. I particularly liked Arondir's armor and how dissimilar it is from the aesthetic of the Lindon Elves, everything Galadriel wears, and the weirdness of the ritualistic armor removal as they approach Valinor. The Elves spontaneously bursting into unsettling song was odd but extremely on-brand for Tolkien, so it was fun to see it actually done onscreen.

I also think the show is quite beautiful in general and a pleasure to simply look at (no, not only because of the budget).

I don't like how heavily and visibly made-up the main female characters are, however, especially Bronwyn (who also has my least favorite costuming of any of the mains tbh). It reminds me a bit of how Padmé Amidala's heavy and perfect make-up in her death scene in Revenge of the Sith always distracts me from the pathos of the scene. God forbid she wasn't hot as she died, you know? I don't care about middle-aged and older men being cast as Elves, but I'd like to see more older actresses, too!

The Harfoot stuff has an interesting mixture of cuteness and underlying menace. It doesn't interest me as much as what's going on with Galadriel, Elrond, and Arondir/Bronwyn, but I like Nori quite a bit and the whole aesthetic they have going, so I don't mind spending time with them, even though it's kind of detached from what's going on everywhere else.

Speaking of Arondir, the Southlands stuff is interesting because there's so little to work with in terms of canon (even if they had rights to everything) and the canon that does exist wrt them is super racist. So having the textual racism towards Southrons actually be brought up in-story, and rejected by an Elf protagonist who is being played by a Black man, is like ... there's a lot going on there and other people are probably better equipped to talk about it.

Personally, I would have liked to see Arondir fall in love with Bronwyn rather than being presented with it as an established thing, especially with the conversation about how this almost never happens etc. His actor does a great job with what he's given, though, and I laughed at the other Elf who is like "do you know how rarely romances between Men and Elves ever happen? do you know they always END TRAGICALLY?!"

Arondir: mmhmm

Other Elf: THEY DIED, ARONDIR

Arondir gives off big "distracted by drawing hearts around Bronwyn's name in his Trapper Keeper" vibes in that conversation and, idk, it was just really entertaining to me.

Bronwyn herself is all right thus far. I did really like the moment when she's talking about how she's from the allegedly creepy village and the people there are her relatives and friends. By and large she seems the most normal person in the cast, honestly.

I also enjoyed how deeply ominous the "approaching Valinor" music was, lmao. A bit overkill by the end, but I rather like the idea of Valinor being scary if you're not supposed to be there.

ETA: cutting between the different plots via the Middle-earth map is a bit silly as well, but functional enough. Interesting to see Calenardhon on the map before Gondor even exists!

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 1: Undead and Unluck

The first page of Undead Unluck is the end page of a different manga, Fuuko's favorite.

From Me to You is a real manga you can really read (though I haven't yet). The important thing is that Fuuko wishes her life were more like this shoujo manga, with a dramatic ending where the boy runs after the girl and they tell each other their true feelings, then kiss.

And if this opening page wasn't dramatic enough, the color spread is... a lot. (dont look) There is a lot of dumb fanservice in the beginning of this manga. Some of it is explainable; most of it just feel cheap. I'm going to try to do this blog without getting into it too much. Just know it exists and it will get better, I promise. Weekly Shonen Jump always tries to start out with a bang. It's a shame they went there. They will go there again.

There is probably a way to read the fanservice as a critique of fanservice, but it's a pretty thin argument, imo. Don't wanna get into it and will be ignoring it when I can.

ANYWAY, the beginning scene is the ol' "woman is at the end of her rope when a mysterious stranger arrives" plot device.

And that's how our main characters meet by chance. Or did they? Didn't the author bring them together on purpose?

Andy learns that Fuuko is a Negator, and his main thoughts are how he can use her to meet his own (literal) end. He has no regard for how she's feeling, and what looked like a gag gets uncomfortable. Fuuko is no longer threatening people with a knife; she is the one being threatened.

Meanwhile, Andy is flying around bleeding everywhere, his body both broken into parts and VERY WHOLE AND NATURAL. Andy is all id, has little regard for others, and is eager to use Fuuko to die. I think there are ways Tozuka could've showed this without Andy being such a creep, but here we are.

So we have two characters who both want to die.

One saved the other in an attempt to secure their own death.

Fuuko is finally being pursued by a hot guy who wants to be with her, but it's all wrong. When he saves her from falling, he cradles her in that very shoujo way with the big strong arms and the dainty little lady, but the look on Fuuko's face is very different from the usual sigh of relief.

Later at the warehouse, Fuuko's long hair is revealed, which gives Andy pause. Another shoujo romance moment occurs, the agokui (thumb on the chin before a kiss), but again, it's nothing like the actual romance she wanted.

Fuuko hits most of the stock shoujo characteristics. It's almost like she's a character from another manga. How did this protagonist end up in a battle shonen?

So, we've had romance tropes, zombie tropes, and now we also meet the Big Bad Secret Organization. Choosing the lesser of two evils, she gives Andy a kiss that looks similar to the one in we saw on the first page. They also confess their feelings to each other, sweetening the romance pot.

We get some hints about Andy's memory card which will become relevant later on. He references his past as "another story."

Chapter 1 ends with unsettled vibes. We know that both characters are now being hunted, but how can they work together when they are each looking for an end?

Masterpost

(Upon re-reading this, it kind of sounds like I don't like Undead Unluck. I promise this is not a hate-read!)

[san-fics]

Sugar And Spice

PV Felinette

(Ao3 / Wattpad)

For Felinette November Prompt Week, Mon. (Nov 21): Sugar & Spice

Hey, guys! @felinettenovember week is here, and although PV Felinette isn't my main ship, I think this will allow me to explore the origins of Felix's character.

I can't promise to write every day because I don't want to cancel my regular posts, but we'll probably have some extra stories this week.

Enjoy!

________________________

Felix took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window with an indifferent gaze, not particularly noticing how hot his drink was or how bitter it tasted.

For many months now, his senses have refused to respond to the thrill, making his perception of life muted. And if it started as a defense mechanism after his mother disappeared and his father turned into a cold, unsociable stranger, – now the habit of suppressing his emotions and even physical sensations became his second nature and Felix didn’t particularly want to fight it.

At the very least, it kept his mind away from the constant noise of the crowd and the vivid sensations that could unsettle him again. And he didn’t want to lose balance and fall into a new depression, – as it happened then, – at all.

The indifferent calm had its advantages. And now, sitting in a cafe near his favorite bookstore, Felix could completely ignore the noise at the neighboring tables and the chaos outside the window through which he looked.

Something moved in the inside pocket of his jacket and Felix sighed.

Almost everything in his life he could ignore. Perhaps the exception was this small annoying creature, always dissatisfied and demanding stinky cheese...

Felix took a piece of camembert from his bag and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket where Plagg was hiding, just as a familiar voice rang out from beside him. “I didn’t know you visited this place too.”

He flinched in surprise and turned around, quickly analyzing if Marinette could have seen his kwami when he opened his jacket. Perhaps his ability to divert attention from surroundings wasn’t always a plus, because he didn’t even notice when she entered the cafe...

And not noticing Marinette was like not noticing a storm was coming, because the girl wasn’t shy about constantly showing him her sympathy despite his – just as constant – rejection.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like her character or appearance, – objectively speaking, Marinette was a beautiful girl and everyone around adored her, because her mere presence created an atmosphere of warmth. And it wasn’t even her obsessive attention to him, – there was always something soft and sincere in her glances and compliments, something that reminded him of his childhood, when his mother... No, not going in this direction!..

But the thing was, despite how cute and sweet Marinette seemed to him, there was already a girl in his life. And although she didn’t reciprocate him, since a permanent ring appeared on his finger and a cheeky creature – in his pocket – she became the only spice in his life that his senses agreed to perceive.

Wait.

Since when did he think Marinette was sweet?..

The girl smiled softly and sighed, lowering her eyes. She turned and went to the next table, which wasn’t occupied, and sat down with her back to him. And although Felix could no longer see the expression on her face, for some reason it seemed to him that it was sad, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t answered her anything. And in hindsight, he noticed that there was something sad and doomed in her today’ smile.

It wasn’t that it didn’t seem sincere, because he could tell that Marinette was glad to see him, but her eyes didn’t burn with the same joy at the sight of him as usual. And she didn’t wait for either his calm answer or a stern remark that she was disturbing him again at the moment of his privacy.

There was something about her today, as if she finally had come to terms with his rejection.

Felix swallowed the nasty lump in his throat that appeared there for no visible reason. After all, it’s not like he’s changed his mind about her or about the possibility of something happening between them. Firstly, Ladybug was still on his mind, and secondly, as long as he carried the curse of bad luck on him, Felix couldn’t afford to be involved in any kind of relationship.

And yet, the next sip of coffee seemed bitter to him, as if all the sugar that was there was removed from his drink, even though it wasn’t really there from the start.

Felix dropped his gaze and stared at his cup, surprised that he could taste the bitterness of this coffee at all – after all the time food seemed tasteless to him – and wondering what part the girl, who, as he had just discovered, seemed cute to him, might have played in this, – when there was a terrible crash in the street.

Looking up at the window, Felix saw a building collapsed across the road, which could mean only one thing: Hawk Moth decided that Saturday morning was a good time to play with infected butterflies.

Felix jumped up from the table and turned to Marinette to command her to go to shelter – after all, it was his duty to take care of the safety of the civilians, – but the table she was sitting at was already empty. He turned to the door and only had time to catch a glimpse of her clothes as the girl flickered down the aisle before the café door closed.

But he didn’t have time to check if his classmate had gone to safety, because another rumble of building destruction was heard from the street and Felix rushed to the exit and then into the nearest narrow alley between houses, where passers-by rarely walked.

He had already rounded the corner and opened his mouth to call out to Plagg when he heard “...ots on!,” and his gaze fell on the dumbfounded Marinette, around whom a red aura flared up, and before his eyes she turned into a girl whom he had been trying to woo as Chat Noir for over a year and who relentlessly rejected his courtship, claiming that she didn’t believe in his feelings, thinking that he just wanted her kiss to break the curse, and telling that she liked someone else anyway so his attempts were useless.

For a while longer, Ladybug stared at him with dumbfounded eyes. Her mouth was open to say something, but she was probably too overwhelmed with the idea that someone knew her secret to find the right words.

Felix came to his senses first, and realized that he had two choices.

The first was to pretend that he just ran here to hide from the Akuma, wait until she left, and only then transform. Then Ladybug would find him after the fight and lecture him about how dangerous it was that someone knew her identity and that he had to promise her that he wouldn’t tell her secret to anyone, and that he must remain very calm at all times so as not to risk being akumatized and betray her to Hawk Moth unwillingly.

And then he would have to nod at her words as Felix, and during the fight pretend like nothing had changed as Chat Noir, and keep building up the wall of lies between them and lessen the chance that she could ever truly trust him...

The second choice was to tell her who he was, and then she would think that he did it on purpose, knowing that Marinette liked Felix and trying to get from her that kiss that would break the curse on his ring and free him from heroic duties and the constant pursuit of bad luck, which, – he thought ruefully, – was at its peak today, because none of these choices could lead him to positive consequences, because Marinette will never believe that it was an accident.

Felix took a deep breath and lowered his eyes, still feeling the bitter taste of coffee in his mouth and finally realizing that the two girls – one of whom brought spice into his life with her boldness and courage during their fights with Akumas, and the other – without him noticing it – sweetened his life like sugar with her softness, – were one person. A person who, imperceptibly for himself, brought Felix out of his usual apathy, making him feel the whole gamut of emotional shades between the two sides of her image.

Until he saw her faded resigned smile today in a cafe, Felix didn’t even know how much Marinette influenced his life even without her disguise.

“Felix…” Ladybug spoke, and he looked up at her as another rumble came from the main street and she quickly glanced towards the sound and looked at him again with determination. “I need to go now, but later we need to ta…”

“Plagg, claws out!” He called while interrupting her, and when a wave of magic enveloped his body, Chat Noir looked at the heroine with a challenge, expecting her wrath.

Ladybug stared at him, forgetting to close her mouth, her eyes darting over his figure as if to make sure her perceptions weren’t deceiving her. Then she smirked, took her yoyo and launched it upwards to hook it onto the structures of the roof. “Maybe I still have a chance, after all.” She said, still smirking, and zipped up.

For another second, Chat Noir stood still, feeling his heart pounding wildly for what her words meant and not believing himself that none of his scenarios turned out to be true. Then he jumped onto the fire escape to get to the roof where his partner disappeared.

After the fight, they would still have a long conversation, but as he raced towards the Akuma, Felix was sure that today everything was different, because he could again feel the wind on his face, the drive from running, and the anticipation of victory.

And all because of the girl who was both his sugar and his spice.

And who returned to him the taste for his own life.

__________________________

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@iloontjeboontje

@jennifer-rose123

@a-slytherinish-gryffindor

@wegetitethan

@jacimari

@hammalammadamdam

[detective-dipstick]

Murder on the Orient Express (1974) vs. Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Never read the book so I'm considering plot-related things that probably happened in the book as the creations of the movies and it will count towards their rewards and penalties.

Things I liked from both:

-the handkerchief! big fan. the mystery of the handkerchief was better than the mystery of who murdered that guy.

-I like the locations in both. I like the scenery. I think they played with the being stuck on a train thing in their own ways and it worked out.

-There was a third thing I can't remember.

Things I despised from both:

-the ending. the dumbest ending in mystery history. mstry hstry. miss tree his tree.

-sorry i got distracted. literally it was so anticlimactic and SOOOO dumb. I had a friend who really liked the ending but he had horrible opinions about everything so fork spotted in the kitchen i guess. anyway drives me insane to this day.

Things I liked better in 74:

-The train. Looks like a real train. We get to look at it for a long time. A movie made for train-lovers, which is the main draw of Orient Express as a concept anyway.

-Generally better looking cinematography. I like.

-Hector. Freaking. McQueen.

-First of all, Anthony Perkins? Damn. Second, Anthony Perkins as McQueen? GAYYYYY (flirtatious). Noticed him the moment he appeared on screen. Totally in love with everything he did. No notes except a tiny one with my number on it. Anyway

-Ms. Hubbard. Genuinely annoying af as God intended. and she didn't have a random wig reveal (although that was funnnny. again that Branagh melodrama that's so ridiculous sometimes but admirably bold every time). anyway idk i like her. I don't like her but I do. the girlboss effect in action.

-The Armstrong case summarized in the BEGINNING thank you for making sense. Was so jarring in the 2017 version that they just randomly mention it later in the movie. No prior allusion to it or anything. Those first few scenes in the 74 version were unsettling to me in a good way.

-They look so relieved and happy when Poirot and Bianchi vote to pin the murder on the imaginary guy. It's just a cute little moment idk. Some of them hug each other. McQueen smiles and stands up and sits down for some reason.

Things I liked better in Branagh's:

-Branagh as Poirot. I feel like I'll be unjustifiably assassinated for this but I like him a lot. In this movie specifically, he's great. I dislike Orient Express compared to his three Poirot movies in almost every other respect but he was very refreshing here.

-From what I've seen of Branagh as a director, he excels at melodrama, and it shows here.

-Loveee how during the breakdown Poirot had no fucking idea who did it. When he said "it is time to solve this case" he meant it so literally. He meant "well we're on a deadline so I'm just gonna start talking and hope it all works out." Relatable af that's me writing my essays and shit. Also very funny.

-So there’s a scene, right? There’s a scene with Hildegarde (great name btw) and Poirot where he questions her in German so the princess can’t understand it and then she mentions seeing “the other conductor” in the sleeping car and he’s so shocked he switches to English and he’s like “WHAT other conductor???” and that was so cool you had to be there it was cool. Too bad it didn’t mean anything but it was sick.

-I like Bouc slightly better than Bianchi. Now, Bianchi has the better name. Fun to say. He was very silly and cool. But I can’t pretend I don’t love Bouc. C’mon.

-The count and countess. WOW. They were charming in 74 but in this one they are HOT. Holy shit. Even better somehow that we don’t meet them right away. They’re talked about in the beginning but we only see them when Poirot goes to their cabin to question them for reasons I can’t remember (I recall he originally wasn’t going to. They were in a different car or diplomatic immunity or something idk I was born yesterday). Anyway him just showing up at the elusive count and countess’s later in the movie and turns out the whole time they were just in there doing hot people shit. They were in two scenes but really carried the film with their sexual energy. 

General thoughts:

For the record, I wouldn’t recommend either of these movies. If this post inspired u to watch them for some reason, don’t you dare think of me. Goodnight.

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[20moonchild21]

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 9

[pairings]

JK x female!oc, Bunny!JK x human!female!oc, Jin x female!oc, Leopard!Jin x human!female!oc, Jimin x female!oc, white Tiger!Jimin x human!female!oc, Taehyung x female!oc, black Tiger!Taehyung x human!female!oc, JK x Jin x Jimin x Taehyung x female!oc

[warnings]

very grumpy Tae, threats, flashbacks of abusive past, mentions Hybrid auction, traumatized Jimin and Tae, trust issues, mentions of blood, mentions of eating disorder

[words]

4.0k

[author] ⇉ please, read!

Okay, I swear I absolutely love Tae, but he just fits in that grumpy role. I actually want to upload all the other chapters so badly all at once, but I can’t!!!! You and I have to be patient a little while longer!

While waiting for my next update on Wednesday, you could actually check out my favorite author @starlightauroras-main. She wrote that really cute story Inferiority complex. I love it so much, and you definitely have to read it too!

Also, check out my other inspirations below this chapter. Like always, my message board is open for recommendations, wishes, criticism or whatever it is on your heart.

I also want to thank you guys so so so much for always leaving me so much likes and those super cute comments. I swear, I see all of them and they make me so proud and happy, but unfortunately, I cannot answer all of the comments. I wish I could!🥺 💜

PS: People often ask me what 𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 actually means, so here is the answer:

Sehnsucht is a German word (I am from Germany, lol), and it stands for „the inconsolable longing in the (human) heart for we know not what ; a yearning for a far, familiar, (non-) earthly land one can identify as one‘s (n.)“

Kind of cute, don’t you think?

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 8 ||| chapter 10]

“Okay, everyone needs to calm down.” She took a deep breath, as she closed her eyes.

“We are calm.” Jungkook piped in from beside her, as him and Jin and sat down next to her on the table. “You – You are the one who makes a scene.”

The girl chuckled nervously, before she opened her eyes to look at the boys. Jungkook had laid his head down on his hands, that were rested on the table. His ears hung loosely bedside his face, while his big, brown deer eyes were looking up at the girl, eyebrows cocking up. Jin beside him had wrapped both of his hands around the hot mug that was filled with coffee, while he cocked his eyebrows up as well.

“Oh my god. I am really making a scene?” She whined while her eyes moved away from both of her Hybrids over to the white tiger, who’s eyes were flickering between the girl and the other two boys.

When his eyes met the girl’s gaze properly, he stopped fiddling with his fingers. A heavy shed of red started spreading over his cheeks, before he quickly shook his head and dropped his eyes. After she had brought him and his brother breakfast, Jimin had carefully asked if he was allowed to leave his room. Taehyung on the other hand had refused to leave his bed. When she had offered Jimin to take a seat at the table, he had looked at her with wide eyes but not taken her offer. He rather stood next to the table, watching the scene in front of him.

“Why are you so nervous, Hope?” Jungkook had lifted his head and was now leaning it on his hands. “You are so smart.”

Hope chuckled at his innocence. She had told them roughly why it was so important to her that her term papers would be free of any mistakes, but she doubt that they had really understood the how much of her future depended on this.

“Thank you, Kookie.” She drover her finger through the thick hair at the back of his head. “But this is really important. If I made the smallest mistake, it might be that I can’t be a lawyer, which means that I can’t defend Hybrids in front of the Judge, you know?”

Jungkook just hummed, as he moved his head against her hand, getting himself a nice massage.

“What – What is a – a lawyer?” The girl moved her eyes away from the bunny.

Jimin was still fiddling with his sleeves, but he was now looking at the girl, his cheeks still covered in red.

“Do you know what a judge is, Jimin?” The girl asked the white tiger, as she kept driving her hand through Jungkook’s hair. Jimin thought for a moment, before he quickly nodded. “A lawyer is someone who tries to convince the judge, that the one who is accused should not be punished. I want to try to convince the judge, that human should be punished for hurting a Hybrid in any way. This is why this term papers are so important to me because if I made any mistakes, they won’t allow me to defend any Hybrids.”

“But she is the smartest girl in the world.” Jungkook had opened his eyes and was now looking sharply at Jimin, almost snapping at the tiger. “That’s why she is going to be a lawyer.”

Jimin, who seemed to be pretty intimidated by the bunnies words, wrapped his tail tightly around his left leg, before he nodded quickly. Hope nudged Jungkook’s arm slightly, gesturing for him to not sound so harsh.

“Don’t worry, Hope.” Jin put his mug back on the table. “You checked your terms several times. There is no chance you made any mistakes.”

The girl took a deep breath and nodded. Jin was right. She had read over the cases so many times, making sure that there was not a single detail left that would cause any problems. She had checked her terms for grammar mistakes or wrong spelled words. It must be bulletproof.

“You are right, Jin.” She whispered and placed her finger at the ‘send’ button. “I will send it out now.”

Jungkook grabbed the girl’s arm, before pulling it down and took her smaller hand in his, squeezing it slightly. She looked one last time towards the leopard, getting an encouraging nod from. With a last, deep breath, she bundled up all her effort and finally pressed her finger onto the mouse.

“You did it.” Jungkook whispered, before he stood up and wrapped his arms around the sitting girl.

“Are you a lawyer now?” Jimin piped in with a small voice.

“Not yet, Jimin.” She watched the tiger, as he carefully walked around the table to take a look at her laptop screen. “It needs time. The committee needs to read my whole term, then they need to check my arguments if they are true or not and then they will decide if I can be a lawyer or not.”

Jimin kept staring at the screen, his eyes flickering over the symbols and letters. Somehow, he reminded her of Jungkook, who would always have the same sparkle in his eyes when he learns something new.

She sighed, as she laid her head on Jungkook’s head, who had leaned his head against her shoulder. It seemed like Jin had accepted the fact that the tigers would be staying with them for a certain am out of time, but she also hoped that Jungkook and the both other Hybrids would get along the time they would be staying here.

She felt her heart tighten when she thought about the two tigers. Where would they go after Taehyung’s injuries were all good again? She didn’t even know what had happened to the two tigers. What if their owners were the same kind as Jin and Jungkook’s old owners? What if they were looking for them and punish them for running away. What if someone would caught them strolling around the streets without someone to look after them? They would immediately lock them away or even worse.

“You are spacing out again.” Jin’s chuckling voice was ripping her out of her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“I – ehm – I” All the three Hybrids were looking at her now. “I was thinking about – ehm – Taehyung. I haven’t looked over his arm yet. Do you think he would allow me to change his bandage, Jimin?”

She felt a slight vibration going through her shoulder, as Jungkook growled at the black tiger’s name. Since Taehyung had showed off his fangs the previous, Jungkook had never left the girl’s side again, too scared that the tiger would hurt her.

Jimin meanwhile, had taken a small step back. He started fiddling with his fingers again, eyes flickering around the ground, before he slightly shook his head.

“I – I don’t think so. He was pretty angry this morning.” He whispered, not looking up. “I am sorry for him. He is scared and unsettled. He – he would never hurt someone on purpose. He –“

“He threatened us with his fangs.” Jungkook quickly interrupted him, pressing his eyes together. “Hope just wanted to help him.”

“I know.” Jimin’s sad eyes were looking up at Jungkook, ears flat against his head. “I will try to talk to him later. But I promise that he would have never hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin.” Hope tried to friendly smile at him. “It takes time to fully trust someone, but I understand. He will warm up eventually. But I need to change his bandage, or else the infection could get worse.”

To her surprise, Jimin’s mouth lifted up. He smiled happily, before he nodded quickly. He turned around and run down the hallways, entering his and Taehyung’s room. When he was gone, Jin stretched himself. It looked kind of funny, because he not only stretched his arms over his head, he also stretched his ears and tail way from him.

“I will cook something for lunch.” He announced, before he stood up and grabbed his mug.

“Since you started cooking for us I gained weight, you know?” The girl laughed, as she rubber her belly to support her statement.

Jin just shook his head and walked into the kitchen, starting to prepare lunch. The girl smiled at Jin’s eagerness to cook for the three, and now the five, of them. She could see the happiness in his eyes, when he set up he table or when her and Jungkook tell him how tasty his meals are. She was glad that thing with him had turned out in a good way.

“Jungkook.” She mumbled against the bunny’s hair. “Can you try to be nice to them. Jimin is trying really hard to be good. I think you scare him away sometimes.”

“Good, he better is.” Jungkook mumbled back, and she could clearly hear the amusement in his voice.

“Please, Kookie.” She tried again, nudging his arm slightly. “I don’t want them to feel not welcome here. Can you try for me, please?”

The bunny didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes closed, burring his face against her shoulder, mumbling something she couldn’t understand.

Just in that moment, the sound of an opening door rang through the apartment. Jimin came out of the room, pulling a crumply looking Taehyung behind him. Both tigers made their way down the hallway, before they stopped in front of the table, where Hope and Jungkook were still sitting. The girl smiled up at them, before she carefully pushed a protesting bunny from her shoulder and stood up.

“Jungkook, why don’t you and Jimin ask Jin if he needs help, while I change Taehyung’s bandage?” She asked nicely, before she grabbed the first aid kid from the cupboard on the wall.

Jungkook and Jimin looked at each other for a few seconds, before both nodded shyly. Jungkook started walking first, but not before he made a V-sign with his fingers, pointing at his eyes and then at Taehyung’s eyes. Jimin flashed Taehyung a look as well, before he trailed after Jungkook into the kitchen.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate, as he pulled himself a chair back and sunk down on it. He laid his injured arm onto the table, turning his head away from the girl, nose trails went wide. The girl sighed, but sat down next to him, gathering all the supplies she would need on the table. She didn’t tried to start a conversation, she just took off the used bandage and started cleaning up the scratch.

As the wet clothed touched his swollen and sensitive skin, the tiger hissed slightly. He slowly turned his head in her direction, opening his mouth so she could clearly see his fangs. It was just now that she actually was close enough to look at them properly.

From the thick root all the way down to the razor thin and sharp tip, the bright white the stood out from the red gums. They were definitely longer than his front teeth, maybe by one inch, which meant that he could easily cut through her skin.

“I am not scared of your fangs, Taehyung.” She simply stated, looking back down and not stopping to whip the cloth over his injury.

The black tiger didn’t response. Instead, he started laughing quietly and shaking his head. He leaned his elbow that was not injured on the table, before he put his head in his hand, still looking at the girl. He lifted his lips even more, showing her the whole length of his carves, while licking his lips over them.

“Is that so?” He laughed, making Hope looking up once again. When she was directly looking into his deep brown eyes, he started talking in a lower voice again. “Why are you lying to me? I can smell your fear. I can sense your heart beating in fear. I can see the fear in your eyes, little human.”

The way his breath was tickling her ear in combination with his very deep voice, were indeed making her heart beat faster. She gulped slightly and moved her eyes away from Tae’s eyes, looking over to the kitchen, but she couldn’t spot Jungkook or Jin….or even Jimin, who would gave her a safer feeling.

“What?” Taehyung had noticed her desperate attempt to look for help. “Do you want to call your little bunny for – ouch!”

He hissed sharply, as she whipped the wet cloth harder over the sensitive skin. He was right, his sharp fangs were somehow intimidating her, but she wouldn’t let him threaten her like this, and she would definitely not allow the tiger to talk about Jungkook as weak.

“I am really sorry.” She hissed back, throwing the clothe away and opening the tube with salve. “I am just trying to help you, Taehyung. But if you don’t like my help, my front door is always open. You can leave anytime you want to. I won’t force you to stay.”

Taehyung hissed again when she applied the salve without take much care. She didn’t want to hurt him at all, but his attitude was getting on her nerves. Taehyung closed his eye tightly, before he bit the inside of his cheek hard, a growl raising up his throat.

“Oh believe me, little girl, if it wasn’t for Jimin, I would leave immediately.” He opened his eyes, staring directly into hers, whispering in his deep, low voice again. “I am warning you, don’t push me too far. I am not scared of a leopard and a bunny, and I won’t hesitate to hurt them, if they try to harm my brother in any way.”

“So Jimin, how did you come to New York?” Jin put the noodles into the pot, before he closed the lid.

Jimin and Jungkook had asked the older boy if he needed some help, while Hope wrapped up Taehyung’s arm. He gladly told them to cut all the vegetables into small pieces, while he would prepare the sauce and noodles.

“I – ehm –“ He coughed, before he started talking again. “Me and my brother are Bengal Tigers. We are from Korea, but they took us to New York because of an auction.”

Jin didn’t miss the way his voice went quieter with each word. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw how his ears were flatly pressed against his black hair, while he had wrapped his tail around his leg. He know exactly how Jimin must feel. When he was younger, his old owner had bought him at an auction in Korea as well.

“What is an auction?” Jungkook laid his knife down and was now looking with wide eyes at the tiger and then at Jin.

It was the first time since the previous night that Jungkook actually tried to talk to Jimin. The bunny had told Jin the night before about his concerns. Jungkook was a nice guy. He never meant to be mean or offended to someone, but his fear about the Hope getting hurt, or that she would like someone more than him was too much for him to handle.

“Human organize auctions to illegally buy rare Hybrid breeds.” Jimin whispered, not looking up at the bunny. “They locked us in a cage, so that all the visitor can look at us. My brother wanted to protect me, as one of the visitor tried to inspect my tail, but the guards stopped him. They – they hurt him badly.”

Though Jin had never been at an auction, he could feel the pain that the younger tiger went through. He knew what it felt to be helpless if a person you love was hurt by a human. He shivered at those memories.

“The girl –“ Jimin started after a moment of silence. “Have you always been living with her?”

“No.” Jungkook had taken his knife again, cutting the cucumber furiously. “She found me first. A few weeks ago, she took me in. She gave me food and something to drink and a bed to sleep. Later, she bought Jin from our old owner and took him in as well. She didn’t even request something in return, she just gave us anything we could have ever asked for.”

As he spoke, his voice held a tone of bitterness. Though Jungkook had come far since he was taken in here, the past was still sitting in his bones. He didn’t want to admit it, but Jin sometimes noticed how he would wake up in the middle on the night, scared and confused. Jin wanted so desperately to help him, but he had no other choice than to be there for him as much as possible.

“Thank you for letting us stay with you.” Jimin suddenly said. He turned around and looked at Jin. “I know that you don’t like us here, especially if my brother behaves like this, but – but –“

“It’s okay, Jimin.” Jin stepped forward and laid a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Just a few weeks ago, we were in the same situation as the both of you. We know what you are going through, and we were glad that Hope took us in without any conditions.”

The three boys kept preparing their lunch for another few minutes, still talking about their lives, when suddenly they head the loud noise of a door slamming, followed by a long silence. Jin was about to look what was going on, but Hope was already walking into the kitchen. She flashed the three boys a sad smile, before she washed her hands in the sink.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook’s eyes help panic, as he watch the blood falling down in the sink. “Did he hurt you? I swear if he –“

“No, it’s okay. His wound was bleeding pretty bad, but I wrapped it up so it should be okay.” She dried her hands and turned around. “But he is still pretty unhappy with everything.”

She leaned herself against the counter, wrapping her arms around her waist. Jin didn’t need to ask her if anything was okay, he could smell it in her aura, that she as battling in her head. He knew how much she wanted to help Jimin and his brother, and that Taehyung was rejecting her help was really nudging at her bones.

“Don’t chew your lips, Hope.” Jin bend down to pull the plates out of the cupboard, before he pushed them into the girl’s arms. “Jimin, do you want to join us at the table or are you eating with Taehyung?”

Jimin’s eyes flickered from the stack of plates towards the hallway. He sighed, before he told them that he would eat with his brother. Jin nodded and prepared two plates of food, before adding two bottles of water onto the tray. He passed it to Jimin who politely bowed his head, as he made his way into the room.

“Don’t you want to try, Tae?” Jimin asked his brother, who sat arm crossed beside him on the bed. “It’s really good and look, I cut the vegetables.”

The black tiger breathed out hard, but eventually he grabbed the fork that laid next to his plate and began to eat. He wanted to spit this food out so badly, but he had to admit that it really did taste good.

“Who does this human girl think she is.” He put his plat back down on the tray, slamming fork down next to it. “She hurt me on purpose, Jimin. She asked for me to hurt her. I was just this far away – only this far away from ripping her throat out. Pathetic human.”

Jimin didn’t respond. The older tiger just kept shoving his fork around his plate, not looking up at his brother. Tae was irritated by this behaviour. Normally, they both would avoid to have contact in any way with human. They both shared the same opinion on them, which was why he couldn’t understand how Jimin could hang around with that girl all day long.

“Jimin?” Tae asked annoyed when the older one didn’t look at him. “Why are you acting that way? You agree with me, don’t you?”

Jimin was still not looking at the younger one.

“Don’t you, Jimin?” Tae asked again, bit this time with a quitter voice.

“I –“ Jimin stopped, looking for the right words to continue. “I just don’t think that she is that bad. I mean, Jin and Jungkook seem to be pretty – happy? Maybe she is –“

“Nice? Kind? Different than the other human?” Tae smiled at Jimin, before his face dropped. “Forget it, Jimin. Human are all the same. I don’t trust that little girl.”

How could Jimin be so blind? Hadn’t the past encounters with human had been enough reasons to not trust those creatures again? He breathed out again, adding a growl. Just because that girl and her pets had offered them their help didn’t mean that Tae would jump into her arms.

It wasn’t that he was not thankful for her help, even when he had threatened her earlier with hid fangs. It had made him angry, that he actually hadn’t had smelled any fear at all in her scent. She hadn’t lied at all. But that didn’t change a single thing about his opinion on her. If she or her pets would do one wrong move towards Jimin or him, he could not promise anything.

He watched his brother eating his lunch quietly. It scared him that Jimin looked so pale and skinny. He had always been a skinny boy, but he had loosen a lot of weight while they were out on their own. Tae wasn’t stupid. He had noticed that Jimin had saved all the food they had left for him, so he could get healthy again. Even though Jimin was older that him by a few months, Taehyung had that urge to protect that smaller male from any threats.

He hadn’t lied earlier. If it wasn’t for Jimin, if Jimin wasn’t here with him, if he only had a responsibility for his own, he would have never taken a step inside the girl’s apartment. It was all for his brother.

“It’s just – “ Jimin was still not looking up at his brother, but Tae could clearly hear the bitterness in his tone. “Last night was the first night I actually had a proper sleep since a very long time, Tae. I wasn’t worried about you not eating enough, I wasn’t worried about you being cold, I wasn’t worried about you being in pain. Can we just – can we just enjoy the time we are allowed to stay here?”

“I don’t know about you.” Tae laughed and leaned himself back against the headboard of the bed, arms behind his head, legs stretched out wide. “But I am enjoying my stay.”

Jimin turned his head, but not saying anything. Tae knew that it was harsh of his to talk about the girl’s offers like that, but it wasn’t like he was going to stay forever. So why not enjoying this comfort for once?

“You know what I meant.” Jimin sighed, as he let go of his fork, letting himself fall back on the soft mattress. “Jin and Jungkook are actually nice to talk to. It was the first real conversation I had in a very long time. Beside, I feel really bad to use the human girl like that. Don’t you think we should show some thankfulness?”

Tae had heard a lot of stupid ideas coming out of his brother’s mouth, but this was an absolutely highlight. His whole life, human had threaten him like he worth nothing to them. They had hurt him, they had humiliated him, they had locked him up, and now he should show some thankfulness?

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jimin.” He growled quietly, closing his eyes. “It’s not like we forcing her to help us. Plus, we won’t stay long, so don’t get attached to that human or her pets.”

[recommendations | Inspirations]

@wishesunderthestars

@agustdakasuga

@ditttiii

@angelicyoongie

@starlightauroras-writes

[kaijurakunsobs]

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

[rafesgfs]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."

[buckyskorpion]

Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of  everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

[brandstifter-sys]

Closing Hours

@dukexietyweek Day 3 - Coffee Shop

Word Count: 1051             (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety 

Rating: T

Warnings: Food mention, mental illness mention

Remus runs a local cafe, and he loves charming his customers, but his customer service schtick doesn’t work on everyone, including the one doctoral student who caught his eye. Fortunately he has another way to win Virgil over despite his defense mechanisms!

---

Remus was never one to give a fuck about getting fancy coffee, but he was a pro at making it, and putting on a show. He loved working at the seedy little café that he lived over, and he loved getting the late shift when all the stressed college kids came to use the wifi and cram. So what if he didn't have the money or drive for college himself? He learned more from those students than he could imagine—including that his customer service charm didn't work on everyone. 

He was just cleaning up after handling a long string of orders when one of the regulars came in with his laptop, ready to suffer through more graduate work in the quiet of the empty café. Remus didn't know his name but he knew that face anywhere! 

"Hey there Scare Bear, what can I get you today?" 

"The usual," he said and reached for his pocket, already set to pay. Remus shook his head. 

"You can get your iced green tea with raspberries on the house—if you tell me your name," Remus hummed and winked at him. The man was blushing under that white foundation and dark eyeliner, which was pretty normal. 

"You would find a way to stalk me and murder me if you had that information," he huffed, "Hard pass." 

"I know I'm creepy and unsettling, but that hurts. I don't even creep on you when you're here!" 

"Yesterday you said you could bounce marbles off my ass with no problem." 

"Yeah but it came up in conversation, so try again." 

"You tried to give me a free slice of cake when this place was empty and felt up my back." 

"I could get away with giving away some cake!" Remus chuckled, "And you really want to call me putting my hand between your shoulder blades and not moving 'feeling you up?' I won't do it again, but that's a safe touch!" 

"Just ring up the tea." 

"Just for that, no, it's on me! Honestly it's like you just want to find excuses to mark me as a total creep but you don't really want to because you keep coming back and talking to me!" Remus teased before going to mix the drink. 

The man was stunned into silence and sat down at his usual table. He pulled out his computer and got busy with his work instead of thinking about the handsome barista catching on to his schtick. It was easier to summarize his case study results and delve into the troubled minds he wanted to help.

He was immersed in his writing pretty quickly. He didn't notice the clock ticking away. Eventually he was oblivious to that fact that no one else was in the café other than that barista, until the chair across from him slid on the tile, forcing him to look up. 

"You didn't come and get your tea, so I drank it and made you a fresh one!" Remus said and sat down holding a plastic cup of iced tea. 

"Thanks," the man flushed and took the tea, "How long have I been here?" 

"A couple hours—it's after closing time, but I figured you needed the quiet to work on your research paper." 

"Shit it's that late?" 

"Yeah, but don't sweat it, Virgil, you take the time you need!" Remus smiled and leaned back in his chair, "Everything is cleaned, counted, and prepped for the morning!" 

"What did you call me?" Virgil nearly choked out. 

"Your name, silly!" Remus teased, "Don't think Roman keeps his mouth shut about the best almost-doctor he has to deal with!" 

"How long did you know that?" Virgil asked, biting his lower lip. Remus' smile relaxed and he leaned on the table. 

"Since the beginning of the study, but I was gonna wait til you told me so I could act surprised to find out you were the main guy therapying my stressed, depressed brother!" 

"And you've been hitting on me since before that started, so what are you trying?" 

"To get to know the hot guy who always shows up because he's cool and I caught him watching Freaks when he was supposed to be working on some psychology stuff." 

"And then Roman broke his contract?" 

"He didn't reveal anything about the study, just that you're a little scary but really sweet and good at being a therapist. Oh and of course what you look like. He was hoping I would beg for him to set us up so I could stop whining about the hot customer who I have a crush on! I didn't have the heart to tell him that wouldn't work!" 

"You have a crush on me? Even after all the times I flat out rejected you?" 

"I can't control my feelings, just how I deal with them—I might be the perfect mess to be the subject of a case study myself, but I know a little bit about my mind!" Remus giggled, "And you kept coming back, instead of finding a different café to hide in for hours, so I didn't want to bother you too much!" 

"And you don't think you're bothering me now because?" 

"I told you it's after closing, so you would have left by now if I were. You have plenty of openings and excuses to leave if you want, but I don't think you do. I think you actually like talking to me, you want to be friends!"

"If you're the same Remus that Roman talks about, I can promise you that I might want to be more than just that," Virgil said shyly, "Maybe we could get lunch one of these days, if you don't mind taking an exhausted doctoral student on a date." 

"If you're free now, I know a great diner that's open 24/7, my treat," Remus suggested with a shrug. Virgil smiled at him—actually smiled—and shook his head. 

"I'm at least covering the tip," he said and packed up his computer, "if it's the diner on Archer street, I'm definitely not letting you handle everything." 

"No promises! But I can promise you'll have interesting company!" 

"Then let's go," Virgil said with a smile and got up. Remus beamed and led the way. Customer service charm didn't work but being honest and respectful sure did!

[sugar-petals]

Bts voice analysis anon here! I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to respond ❤ it made complete sense why yoongi is the deepest I kinda feel bad for him everytime he wants to sounds cheerful or speak in a way so people can hear him he strains his voice

lot to talk about, i’d like to expand on this. especially what his voice being the deepest means for bts’ songs. plus, where his undiscovered vocal talents are, and in what manner his voice will not strain.

that he’s very introverted contributes to what you say, but yoongi is certainly the odd one out voice-wise, such low baritones hardly sound upbeat. similar to how taehyung being the odd one out in the vocal line whose head voices are literal superpowers. i really respect him for singing with jin and jimin who can climb one octave higher than him, up to C#5! and with jk who has the best technique and breaks into the 6th octave if he goes on like that.

it’s very much like yoongi who probably has to mix their tracks back and forth to fit his parts with hobi (who is a tenor as a rapper! — very uncommon) and namjoon who raps in several modes. very low, very high, very impactfully. he’s the most full-bodied baritone in the group even if he’s only the third-deepest. the tone is just so rich. both hoseok and RM are extreme vocal chameleons on top of that. in speaking and in their music you can hear the difference to yoongi all the time. they don’t suddenly drop in pitch and they’re vocal acrobats.

hobi in particular, this guy can do anything. the sheer agility my god, he connects his registers. he can go up and down, impersonate and do a million effects, adlibs, you know the drill. it’s him who actually owns the “cheerful/loud and clear” brand you mention. which is good if not fantastic for yoongi’s production endeavours, the group mood, and how bts cannot be ignored — but tough for yoongi’s voice and comparison thinking, and when he tries to make a point in interviews. maybe it’s not bad that bts have to slow down sometimes to let yoongi speak, but his tone is drowned out (not intentionally of course) in other occasions and he wakes up hoarse often as we saw. which might sound hot, but it’s not good for him as you say.

to be clear. i wouldn’t chalk down his more monotonous and silent tone as a weakness, it’s just outside of bts’ other vocal variety. he makes up for it with speed and good lungs anyway. we just have to listen more closely to him in talks/episodes/conferences but i think he shouldn’t worry about it either or try to sound more enthusiastic, the fans love his soothing speech for its pure sake. he does change it regardless to be more poignant and blend in. it has pros and cons but it wears him out.

yoongi’s voice is under that strain not just in conversation but also in the studio if he wants to bring connection to the rap line parts instead of having 3 songs in 1. which usually ends up happening anyway. that’s also why the cyphers (!) switch genres mid-song so often: their voices are all strong in different registers! yoongi the lowest, joon midrange, and hoseok up high. 

that’s why cypher pt2 is a HUGE stunt and production masterpiece: hoseok’s part is tuned differently, then other instrumentals start with namjoon. and you can literally hear, okay alright a deep voice is coming! from there it just gets deeper and deeper until yoongi is just rapping over a bass guitar (every baritone’s best friend lmao!). god, please give yoongi a big bassline for his every part. “ugh” is the exact opposite: yoongi has to start too high and namjoon also has problems with the key, only hoseok can fully take off after 1:50 with perfect vocal stability. guess which song is autotuned: it’s not cypher pt2! a 3 in 1 song fuels the rapline in a way where they are most comfortable. it’s crazy how far apart they are among each other vocally and it has to be considered.

it’s a dilemma but also why bts’ rap line can tackle any song with at least one member suiting it. they complement each other, every register (except the rare whistle register, aka what mariah/ariana do) is covered. i think that contributed to bts’ fame, it’s so important. however usually, the song caters to hoseok since tenors are preferred in kpop music, or it caters to RM as he’s the central songwriting entity even if mind you, he always thinks about all the members and works closely with yoongi.

but even with joon’s support, it doesn’t work if yoongi is caught in his wish to be a tenor. we’ve seen how much the guy talks about wanting his range to become wider and how he even tried singing quite high for his standards on d-2. he goes as far as collabing only with sopranos to help him achieve that pitch. yoongi is invested to pretty much change his entire vocal type 🙁because the environment simps for high notes so bad (which is fair, falsetto is related to releasing certain happy hormones and highlights parts in songs, but still).

... he actually can’t, unless he wants to damage his throat. that’s the last thing we want. a listener can get the serotonin from a very deep voice equally if they got good taste.

thing is. you cannot morph yourself into a different vocal type and shift your range to the opposite of your comfort zone unless you’re whitney houston. even one in a million tenors like baekhyun can’t make themselves a baritone. his lowest notes are less clear no matter how hard he practices, even if his chest voice is almost operatic and his technique excels. meanwhile, chanyeol (who’s a lyric baritone and exo’s deepest voice) effortlessly hits them without (!!) that kind of decade-long training. have baekhyun or jimin been called bad singers for not being able to cover the other end of the spectrum? nope. so: why would yoongi be a bad vocalist who needs autotune. with lessons, oh man, he could do a lot and many things he dreams of. he has a very unique timbre and enough musical knowledge to do so.

so, we see the magic of your natural supported range. it’s simply given to you. imagine that: if you know you’re not a tenor, you could sort of outsing jungkook — obviously not by technique, but projection— as long as the song is tailored to you and the notes are low enough. yep, jk’s lower register is not extremely forward. each note is perfectly sung because he’s jk, but his power vocals are settled much higher. joon/tae/yoongi would sound much fuller with huge oomph in those lines. that’s where yoongi would be much more clear-sounding to us. a lot of baritone rappers in kpop would be damn good singers. 

that’s why it’s good how a lot of rappers produce solos on their own so they can try it out. 

you just have to respect that your range usually (not always) goes in one direction. once yoongi rightfully decides to abandon his high note fantasy and goes lower just for fun, we are not safe anymore lmao! exception for range: female singers have an advantage there. trained mezzo-sopranos have great access to the head voice and lower registers since they’re in the perfect middle of the scale. but the guys, forget it, even the baritenors. yoongi’s fullest voice will always be coming from a chesty depth and we love him for it. guy just needs to realize.

that’s why his real challenge is rather somehow tweaking the rap parts so his voice finds good resonance like in “혼술” or even “ddaeng”. where his voice is strong, relaxed, and full and flowing. ddaeng — “boy with luv”, too— is ironically in a very high pitch and again caters to hobi’s tone the most, but: yoongi just scales down to his own octave and it still fits, so — great key choice and musicality! and adaptation. it’s not easy to do. you can tell he plays piano.

he either becomes less easy on the ear or has to autotune himself entirely if he works against his voice. or: goes on a track way outside his supported range (dynamite, WOW). it’s a shame. “daechwita” and “agust d” are such a case: both go into the head voice where your resonance should show the most aka the chorus. there are aggressive belts/snarls/shouts that make more sense for higher, trained voices. yoongi is most famous for raps that are literally designed to fuck up his vocal cords 😷that he’s so skilled as a rapper prevents him from that to a degree, but it’s still not healthy. he adapts a lot to bts’ overall delivery but he doesn’t have to, in fact: he could go in the other direction and it would work even better.

the reason for the title track issue: they are the most energetic. in k-pop, energetic means amping up the pitch. and that’s probably a logical choice and a natural human association. if you make a baritone kpop track with a lot of energy, it probably becomes pretty creepy, uneasy, film noir. but i think that’s exactly yoongi’s thing: to unsettle and critique and rage. i think it could work out. lil nas x is a baritone pulling it off. he achieves energetic title tracks, he honors his vocal type well imo. his live singing is cool af, i need this so hard in the rap landscape. so, it’s not impossible to do.

the trick is probably setting everything to minor key. surprise... yoongi’s challenging title tracks are all in major key. boy with luv: minor key, interesting. the former are extremely difficult for him to do so hats off. “shadow” is more suitable for his baritone as is “burn it”. it needs a very heavy, dark track. which is why it’s good that yoongi has that kind of public image. a baritone’s best genre is not super light and whimsical. that’s why all of our baritone faves are not main vocalists but main rappers. kai, taehyung, jaehyun: low voices in vocal lines are soldiers.

---

now a note on yoongi’s best method of singing since it reflects his voice type and brings out the fullness of it. as in, how does it crack and strain less? guess why “사람” is yoongi’s favorite d-2 song to sing. it’s ALL his comfortable range and the singing — very beautifully done —  is in mixed register (= head + chest)! which imo might be his secret weapon. it allows him to do what he longs to do successfuly without going extremely high. bingo.

because: even with baritones, the golden middle is still important. they’re not as deep as a bass, after all. that’s why their voices are so honey-laced in the mixed range and it sounds amazing. heaven, their timbre sounds so seductive. so, it’s wonderful when they find their middle and dare to sing. 

i wish yoongi gets/makes more tracks aimed at just that. in “outro tear” he has to go both too low and too high so it takes a lot of production effort to patch it together. the rapline is doing god’s work to make all their voices sound cohesive without being trained singers. it’s always a trade-off and risk, an immense balance act. “paldogangsan” is hard on yoongi’s voice but works as a whole plus it caters to namjoon to carry the song’s message. the cyphers are chopped up and not chart-friendly but each member is in their comfort zone. 

PS: i said bts’ rap line covers all registers except one. i think that jin is the one to complete bts’ entire spectrum coming from the vocal line. i’m no whistle note expert but dionysus went pretty high up there, i think he might be able to do it. it’s very impressive, even jungkook and jimin probably don’t have access to that register. so, another point for bts being a very ‘complete’ group.

[wordynerdygurl]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note:  Well hello my friends!  Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?!  STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers!  This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share.   As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story!  Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl!  Thanks lady! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request:  @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings:  Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc.  References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go."  Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe.  It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know.  It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it."  Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words.  Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate."  Still, her compliment made you smile.  It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers. 

 Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath.  Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin.  It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows.  Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips.  And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors.  For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide.  Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen.  It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly."  Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie!  That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun.  And, worse case?  You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case.  Worst case?  He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh?  And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin.  She was right.  Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head.  Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly.  You could do this.  You wouldn't be alone.  And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it.  You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go?  We're already stupid late."  

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over?  Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess.  I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight.  Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage.  Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice.  Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter.  Truly."

"Aw!  Really, Mr. Loki?  Ya mean it?"  That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do!  Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party.  The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap.  Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night.  Everything was brightly lit.  Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling.  Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice.  On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible.  A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza.  Well, dozens of pizzas.  The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.  

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam.  Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice.  Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket.  Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank!  Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!"  Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest.  No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them.  Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything.  Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up!  Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room.  So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there.  You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion.  Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system.  At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off.  It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet.  Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing.  Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk.  Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands.  Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you.  Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you.  “Oh.  It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all.  Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back.  Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night.  The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness.  You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving.  But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you.  Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.  

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally.  Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response.  Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek.  Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing.  It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect.  Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight.  Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit.  All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you.  Soft, full skin under his broad palms.  The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own.  How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation.  And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all.  Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick.  Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair.  Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes.  Your dream has come true.”  Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them.  He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it?  I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s.  I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself.  The suit was totally of its time.  Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe.  His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white.  Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account.  The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress.  The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall.  In short, an avarice little asshole.  So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement.  Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now.  And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh?  Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh.  No way.  You would not be so easy to seduce this time around.  Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again.  Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous.  Genuine, at least for you.  And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.  

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much.  He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag.  Basic bitch?  Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt.  You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him.  Loki couldn't want you.  You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you.  His soulful kisses that stole your breath.  The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips.  His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face.  “I thought you said I was plain.  Simple.  Boring.”  

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat.  How could you think that?  Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out?  I believe that.  And, let me tell you this-”  Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.”  Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will.  In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable.  Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion.  Was he really going to indulge in this?  Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together?  Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere.  Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again.  Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring.  Not at all!  There was plenty to distract you and you let it.  Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.  

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache.  Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?”  She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.  

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued,  “Really?  Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so.  Was coming on awfully strong too.  But… he’s been a jerk, right?”  

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner.  More of a lone wolf.  In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to.  Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit?  And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to.  Loki thinks I’m a bore?  Too basic for him?  Fine.  I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually.  Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile.  There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!”  There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match.  Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man?  You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend.  You all remember this?”  From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first.  Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers.  Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found.  Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee.  Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary.  Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note.  When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt.  It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well?  What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment.  The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music.  A drunken moment of clarity had descended.  Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response.  Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that.  Not after what he’d said.  Not after your one night together, right?  But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.  

Refusing didn't enter your mind.  With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do.  Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.  

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner.  Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered.  No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own.  Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki.  The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart.  A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe?  You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care. 

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength.  Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips.  Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close.  “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark.  Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light.  He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight.  It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric.  You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy.  Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer.  Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips.  Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up.  I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you.  I don't care.  Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body.  Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own.  Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard.  Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain.  Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch.  Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess.  But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.  

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot.  Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention.  He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs.  “I just need to feel you, dove.  I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”  It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core.  When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls.  Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle.  You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight.  Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK!  The sound made you both freeze.  Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!  What do we have here?”  Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here?  It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes.  Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking.  Very quietly.”  When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing.  Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips!  We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends.  You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes.  Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way.  Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet.  Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling.  “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things?  That I was… boring?  Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never.  What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips.  “Good.  Good to know.  Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really?  I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.”  Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.”  Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation.  Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.  

“You’re welcome.” “Ah!  Yes, many thanks Tony.”  

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight!  Treat her right.”

“Of course.  I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries!  No worries!”  Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list:  @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco​

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Objection

Note: I’m a sucker for AUs, so here is a Lawyer!Chris fic nobody asked for, the plot (or whatever) is veery loosely inspired by this book I’m reading atm (The Hating Game) and by the the fact that Chris talking about lawyer stuff is incredibly hot to me

Warning: swearing (a lot), smut, Chris bashing (for the story line, pls don’t take this seriously, I adore this man to death), NSFW, slight exhibitionism

Plus another warning, I am not a lawyer or trained in any other legal profession, so if there are inaccuracies in the way I used certain terms I am sorry

„Objection, your honor, this is hearsay!” you shouted, shooting a furious glance over to the defense table, and to the absolute menace standing in front of it.

Chris Cuomo. The most obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouthed asshole you ever had the misfortune to meet in court. He was a senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, specialized on getting their wealthy clients out of everything from tax fraud to outright corruption.

This man stood for everything that, in your opinion, was wrong with the justice system and this country in general. Everything about him screamed elitist, boarding school, frat boy, preppy rich guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He flaunted his famous last name around whenever he had the chance and it got him right to the top of the business.

You, on the opposite, went to law school on a scholarship, worked your ass of and now practiced law working for the district attorney to prosecute and convict the very people Cuomo tried to kept out of jail to afford the ridiculous Upper East Side Penthouse he probably had. You tried to push the fact that he was one of the most brilliant lawyers you knew aside, because you just hated him. No respect, no admiration for his legal genius, he was the bane of your existence fair and square.

You clashed heads in court more than once, and by now he knew exactly how to rile you up, smug bastard. His current client was accused of tax and investment fraud of incredible extent, and there he was, trying to discredit your main witness in front of the jury with some ridiculous accusations about them having a personal vendetta against the defendant. You saw your case crumbling in front of you as the witness got tangled up in Cuomo’s relentless questioning, stumbling over their own words, their credibility shrinking with each minute.

He did what he did best, lulling in people with his charm and striking when they least expected it. And he always did it with his disgusting smile on his disgustingly handsome face. Yes, of course he had to be a hot, fit, well-built asshole, making your professional life miserable at every chance he got.

Sometimes, he even had the audacity to wink at you. In court. During a trial. You wanted to punch him in his perfect face more than anything else.

The judge disrupted your thoughts.

“Dismissed, Ms. Y/L/N, and mind your tone in my courtroom. And Mr. Cuomo, please keep your questions professional or this interrogation will be over.” The judge said, shooting the both of you a warning glance.

“No more questions anyway, your honor, I think the jury heard it all.” Cuomo said, and almost strutted back to the defense table. And with a look over to the jury, you knew he was probably right. They eyed your witness suspiciously, and you almost wanted to stomp down out of pure rage. The fucker just destroyed your chance for a swift conviction right in front of your eyes. You needed more time to gather new evidence, or this would be over.

“Your honor, the prosecution is asking the court for adjournment.” You said, trying your best to not let your frustration show.

“Granted, the trial will be continued tomorrow. Court is dismissed.”

You put the case files into your bag and practically stormed out of the court room, passing the defense table without as much as a sideward glance.

But he caught up with you in the parking deck of the building.

“You’re aware you can’t win this one, right, Y/L/N? It’s all circumstantial, even you should see that.” His smug voice suddenly said from behind you as you were just about to get into your car.

You whirled around, pulse hammering in your chest out of pure anger.

“This is unprofessional even by your standards, Cuomo, I’m not discussing this case with you in a parking lot. Now why don’t you get into this environmental nightmare you call a car and leave me the hell alone.” You hissed, pointing over to where his obnoxiously big SUV was standing.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/L/N, just because you can’t handle yourself in court.” He said, smirk still firmly in place. His hands were playing with the car keys, and you were mesmerized for a second by how large his hands were. They looked like shovels.

“Whatever you’re plotting in that weird little brain of yours, stop staring at me.” Cuomo said, actually sounding a bit unsettled. You snapped out of it and went right back into anger mode.

“Staring at you? God, you’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you, you condescending prick? Not everything revolves around you and your spoiled ass, Cuomo.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, girl?” he snapped, raising his voice now. You clearly got to him, and seeing a crack in his arrogant façade gave you a satisfying sense of triumph. You couldn’t stop now, even if his angry face was screaming danger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, are you used to people worshipping the ground you walk on because you had the dumb luck to be born with the Cuomo name? Fun fact, nobody cares, you’re still an asshole, just with a fancy suit.” You really threw all caution away, and one look at Cuomo told you that you’ve definitely gone too far.

Because he was livid. There was a vein on his temple that was literally pulsating, his hands were balled to fists at his side and his blue eyes were so full of fury that you were scared to look directly at him.

He took two giant steps in your direction, backing you up against your car. You were caught, Cuomo’s giant frame in front of you with no way to escape his wrath.

You looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes directly. He looked at you like he was about to kill you. You tried to recall your fury from some seconds ago, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his huge arms had you trapped on both sides of your head were making it impossible for you to focus. Damn him for being so attractive. You wanted to fight him, but you also wanted to press yourself against his body and feel what was underneath that suit.

“You presumptuous little…” he spat, stopping himself before saying something truly insulting. He took a deep breath, and looked at you again. And then he saw it.

The way you were biting your lip, the way your pupils were dilated.

And he smiled, a cruel smirk that send shivers down your spine. He brought his face even closer to yours and dropped his voice.

“You know, I got really good at reading people, comes with the job, I guess. But you are making it so easy for me, Y/L/N, look at you?” His mouth was at your ear now, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

You could barely think straight anymore, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it just came out as an embarrassing, needy whimper.

He chuckled darkly, and goosebumps broke out all over your body. Why did this man, that you hated more than almost anyone else, reduce to a state of arousal you had never experienced before just by whispering in your ear? Your panties were already soaked, and he didn’t even touch you. With your last few functioning brain cells, you cursed your needy, weak body, before you tiled your head to the side, baring your neck to Chris mouth.

He breathed over your skin, teasing you without actually touching. You felt like you were going insane.

“Please.” You whispered.

“What? Use your words, darling.”

“Kiss my neck, touch me, anything, just do it, asshole.” You hissed, glad you were able to form a coherent sentence.

“So impolite.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before starting to suck lightly. You moaned softly and pressed your pelvis into his. You could feel his hardness through his slacks, his unaffected behavior was clearly an act, he was just as aroused as you were.

One of his hands went down to squeeze your ass hard, bringing another surge of wetness to your panties.

Seeing him getting into this gave you some of your courage back, and you started to grind against him, making him growl against your neck.

“Is that everything you got, Cuomo.” You asked, trying to rile him up a bit. You really enjoyed the way he was manhandling you, as much as it pained you to admit it. But his hands were wandering under your skirt now, so you might as well just go with it.

Your provocative behavior clearly had the desired effect on him, because he grabbed your waist in a bruising grip, spun you around and pinned you against your car, his erection pressing against your ass. He yanked up your skirt and tore off your panties, leaving your lower body completely bare.

By now, you were glad that you picked the parking spot on the top floor, because your two cars were the only ones left and no one would come up here at this hour to catch you, about to be railed against your vehicle by Chris Cuomo.

“My, my, Y/L/N, this really turns you on, doesn’t it?” You could hear his breathy voice from behind you, and then felt a thick finger slowly being pressed into your aching pussy, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you already are so wet for me.” Chris growled.

“Are you going to fuck me soon, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You asked, teasingly.

He swore under his breath and gave your ass a sharp slap, making you welp.

You heard the sound of his zipper, and the rustle of foil.

“You really brought a condom to court, Cuomo? Wow, you are even more shameless than I imagined.”

“Shut up.” He growled, and you did, because he lined up his cock and slowly started pressing into you. He was big, and you had to bury your face into your arm to muffle the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth at the feeling of being stretched like this. He bottomed out with a low moan, and immediately started a fast, hard pace, pushing you against your car with every move of his hips.

You turned your head around to look at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The friction was delicious, and he was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans became louder and louder, and he pressed one of his large hands over your mouth.

“Be quiet, you don’t want someone to catch little Miss Righteous being screwed in the parking lot by big, bad Cuomo, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear between husky breaths, and you could only cry out against his palm as he was speeding up his thrusts. The idea of someone catching you here was as arousing as it was terrifying.

Suddenly, Chris other hand sneaked around you to press on your clit, hard, and you screamed into his hand as your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, your walls gripping his cock like a vice while he was still fucking you through your climax.

“That’s it, darling, come for me. Fuck.” He groaned, before suddenly going tense as he reached his peak as well, cock buried deep inside you.

You slumped against your car with a huff, and the brief glimpse you caught of your reflection in the window made you question what you just did even more. Not only did you have (amazing, mind-blowing) sex with the opposing lawyer, he also absolutely wrecked you, you looked like you just had the roughest night ever with your hair undone, your makeup smudged and your panties in shreds on the floor of the parking lot. You hastily pulled down your skit again and tried to fix your hair as much as possible to get a minimum of decorum back.

Chris was just disposing the condom into a nearby bin, already looking calm and composed again. You hated him for that, and for the broad, self-satisfied grin that was all over his face again. And still, your heart gave a little flip as he approached you.

“That was fun.” He smirked, “We should definitely do that again. But not today, I’m busy. See you in court.”

He started to make his way to his car, and there was definitely a spring in his step.

“In your dreams, Cuomo.” You mumbled after him but couldn’t suppress a smile. That was, until you looked into the side mirror of your car to check your makeup and saw the giant, purple bruise on the side of your neck.

“Cuomo!” you screamed. “Come back here right now, you imbecile, you gave me a fucking hickey!”

“Better wear a scarf then tomorrow!” he called, entering his car. “And don’t make plans for after the trial, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate my victory. And I mean that.”

And with that, he drove off. And as much as you hated yourself to admit it, you were really looking forward to having dinner with this idiot. After you destroyed him in court, of course.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chizuru Town (Part 1)

In the game you wake up on the beach in Chizuru with NO IDEA how you got there.

I have a little fun with it. Enjoy!

“MC!”

The children’s voices were happy and oddly squeaky. They draw you out of unconsciousness. Your body feels a bit cold, and you shiver. 

“MC!” They keep calling you. You’re lying face up but their hands are pressed against your back. They keep pushing you from below.

You take a breath and feel the cold shock of water up your nose. The choking sensation makes you want to bolt upright but something is holding you up on the surface of the water. You catch a glimpse of silver grey, rubbery skin. A thin slit in that skin opens and sprays a mist with a sharp whoosh. The children’s voices are replaced by the squealing and whistling of dolphins.

Dolphins! Their sharp pointed fins are cutting through the water. You can see their bright eyes turn to look up at you. The way their mouths curve in their snouts gives them a smile. But they were powerful, insistent creatures. The moment you tried to swim on your own, they pushed you out of the water again.

The salt water in your mouth, the frigid breeze against your sun warmed skin told you this wasn’t a dream. You’d heard stories of dolphins rescuing people before, but you’d never actually thought you’d get to experience being carried on these muscular bodies. 

There were more surrounding you. Their sparkling backs broke the surface, no doubt watching. One eventually peeled off and another replaced them and you realized they were taking turns carrying you along. The sun was about halfway across the sky now and you could see the sparkling white sand of a small beach. The beach was only a few yards wide before it hit the seawall. You could climb up the seawall by what looked like stairs that led to a main street.

You gather your arms about yourself. What little clothing had survived the ghost tooth dragon vipers was torn away by the water and water-born debris. You were completely naked. You already were in the country illegally. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you just showed up completely exposed like this. But how would you get any clothing?

The dolphins didn’t care about this at all. They pressed forward. If they knew anything about humans, it was that humans belonged on land and, for whatever reason, they had made it their mission to get you to the land as soon as possible. They pushed you with their snouts so hard you thought you might bruise and swam so quickly, you formed a wake in the water. You were already weak from fatigue and dehydration. There was no way you could fight them.

So you are pushed like a buoy towards the shore. When the water got too shallow the dolphins were forced to turn back or risk beaching themselves. Still, they swam a close distance away. Your body was shaking at a steady constant rate and the warm sand was irresistible. You lay down and sigh.

After a bit of rest, you pick a shadier spot against the wall, out of the sun and hopefully out of the prying eyes of people walking by. The dolphins follow you, spy hopping and watching. This was all so surreal.

You were supposed to be dead.

Again.

When you were younger, you read a book about a world where there was almost no difference between heaven, hell, and the living world. People died and woke up again to a place they found familiar and only vaguely strange. The book was deliberately unsettling, meant to blur the line between reality and dreams. The protagonist wasn’t sure if he was still alive, in heaven, or in hell, and the reader was not to know either until the end.

You’re feeling this way now. You thought you had died in the Arctic ocean, only to be thrown into a chaotic dragonslaying academy. Now you thought you died, only to wake up to a school of dolphins after nearly getting eaten by a dragon.

How are you alive after all that has happened? Maybe you weren’t alive. Maybe this was hell and you were suffering multiple deaths. The dolphins chattered brightly ahead of you, but now their sounds seemed more like they were mocking you, naked, on the sand alone, alive again with no friends.

There was no sign of Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang or Caesar Gattuso. Were they saved by dolphins too? Or left to drown and be eaten? Was God only with you and not with them? Your mind starts to form an idea. You can test out this theory. Worst case scenario was that you died for real and you’d long since gotten over that fear.

You stand up and brush the sand off your bare bottom. You would take your time to rest and hide out until night fell and then use the dark to your advantage. 

Fatigue made you sleep longer than you wanted. Darkness has truly fallen when you wake up, stiff and achy. A greyish mat of sand has stuck to your whole body. You look back towards the ocean, but the dolphins are gone. You waddle out on wobbly legs and wash the sand away. After so much time in the water, the feel of it on your skin was suddenly abhorrent and you would be happy if you never spent another day in the ocean as long as you lived.

The theory that you’re actually dead and none of this was real was again challenged by how hard it was to make it up the stairs. You were so exhausted, starving and dehydrated that you swayed. You’d give anything for a bowl of hot ramen, served up fresh with a bit of egg floating on top.

You heard a voice cry out. A young couple was out for a stroll and had spotted you. You must look like a monster, hair long and matted and no clothes at all. Sure enough, they back away moaning with trembling voices before turning to run off, screaming something you can’t understand. Further up towards the street, you see bright lights. The smell of vendors cooking street food makes your stomach rumble. You couldn’t be out in the open, but maybe if you got close enough, you could dumpster dive and find some clothes. You sneak behind the back of the nearest building, a stucco box with a small front yard. The young man of the couple returns with a few other people. He’s speaking breathlessly, pointing towards the ocean. Poor guy. No doubt he thought he’d seen some ghost girl come from the ocean. This is probably something that would traumatize him for life.

You hear a small noise next to you. A little black cat is pawing at you. You could barely see it in the shadows. It didn’t care that you weren’t wearing clothes. Its fur was soft and warm and its purrs were comforting. You run your hand over its head and ears and it crawls into your lap. You would have liked to own a cat someday. You always liked them. They were funny and cute and very affectionate like this one. When you raise your eyes, your heart leaps. There are clothes hanging on a clothesline from a house not too far away!

You scramble quickly towards it, careful not to step on anything that might make noise. You check every gap to make sure that no one can see you. Then as soon as you reach the clothing, you carefully yank it off the line. It was just one of the local school uniforms. The white button down top was a bit small, but the wine-colored skirt fits you just fine around the waist. You were only a bit older than Renata when she died so this was probably the outfit of a highschool student.

Your eyes fall on the back door of the house. That’s right, Japanese don’t wear shoes in the house. These shoes were laid out neatly on the rack. You glance around and carefully approach, snatching what you hope will fit you. They’re just the right size, much to your shock. This surprise is enough to send a jolt of happiness through you. Now clothed, you return to the cat and pick it up in your arms and walk out on the street. The first thing you saw was a sign that said, Chizuru.

Before arriving in Japan, Norma, the school AI had told you about a place called Chizuru being a safe haven and to find an Internet Cafe there if you ever got into trouble. The hairs rose on the back of your arms. How could this be possible that dolphins not only save your life, but take you directly to the place that you needed to be? You sang the song that said ‘God is with you’ but it was supposed to be a metaphor right? 

You approach a man on the street who looks at you with a stunned expression. “I… excuse…”

Before you can ask anything, he shakes his head again and again and flees from you. “Wait! I need…”

You try again, this time of one of the vendors, an old craggy-faced man who stares at you with a black expression until you give up.

Burned, you just decide to wander around until you see something that looks like an internet cafe. It wouldn’t be in a neighborhood. More likely closer to the city center, on a main street. You head that way, away from the beach and the houses. The city center seems much quieter than you would expect it to be. You stop.

A group of people are standing on the street, five men in black leather jackets displaying flaming Oni masks. One had a wild looking tall mohawk dyed red. His black jeans reached down to black leather boots studded with silver spikes. It was as if the black dragon that tried to eat you had turned human and walked on land.

He turned his head and spotted you. It was too late to hide. His eyes ran up and down the length of you and he grinned, and made a slow whistling noise. You may have been raised in an orphanage but you weren’t that naive to not know what that smile meant. You’d seen it before on some of the staff who liked to take advantage of the older girls there. 

So you didn’t need to know the vulgar words coming out of their mouth.  You set the kitten down on a nearby trash can and pat it on the head, quietly telling it to stay in Russian. The cat obliged, and started to clean its paws.

In the orphanage, you were taught hand to hand basics until you were strong enough to actually use it in a fight. The trainings were very light against each other and you weren’t allowed to cause injury, but there was no gender splitting. You were only hybrids. Whether you were male or female, it didn’t matter so long as you had dragonblood in your veins.

Because of your background, you didn’t show the same innocent fear that these men may have been accustomed to from someone your age, in that clothing. You stared them straight in the eyes, your arms at your side, not moving forward or back. This nonchalant attitude made them stand there in brief bewilderment. The one with the mohawk was clearly the bolder of the five and he shouted something at you that you don’t understand. You just shake your head.

“I need to find the Internet Café…” You make a gesture with your hands to pantomime typing at a computer. They started to laugh, elbowing each other and nodding. You sigh. You’re so tired and it showed on your face.

Your lack of Japanese and your weary expression was an invitation to attack and they approached you now.

In the orphanage, no one would approach you like this in such a joking manner. Especially not on the training grounds. The Mohawk’s hands were relaxed. He was confident. He wasn’t watching your hands ball into fists as tight as stones and he wasn’t watching the sudden shift in your feet as you moved into a sturdy stance. He reached out with his hand to your elbow. So he was unable to block or dodge your fist that struck him like lightning.

He didn’t just feel pain or stagger back. The man felt flat to his side, straight to the pavement, and he didn’t get up. The eyes of his four friends followed him down with a stunned feeling. You knew that feeling. Like they suddenly found themselves in a fantasy world where a high school girl in a school uniform could knock out a gangster with a single hit? 

Maybe this was a fantasy world and you were a fantasy high schooler. After all, you were carrying a cat!

They all turned to you in unison and you attacked the next one, levering back on one leg and slamming him with a kick to the solar plexus. He staggered back, wheezing, curling in on himself, once or twice.. 

The next one now had the wherewithal to produce a switchblade. He swung it wildly at where your heart should have been, but the blouse was a bit open where it was too tight and he caught a glimpse of the fact that you’re not wearing anything underneath. Your hand caught his wrist and you pulled hard, driving your knee directly into his crotch.

His grip on the knife released as he slowly sank to the ground and you swiped it easily. You give it a toss and catch it by the handle. Now the smile is on your face and there’s no pleasure in it as you stare down the final two gangsters.

One gives up and turns to run, arms pinwheeling comically as his oni mask jacket flapped in the breeze created by his own flight.

The last one was backing away, stumbling over his feet, crawling back upright. And when he does get up, you see something in his hand, shiny and black.

A gun. You hadn’t seen one in a while and you stopped. You couldn’t do anything about this. He just needed to pull the trigger and you were gone. But this was a world where you couldn’t die… right?

A man in a white shirt and black slacks leaped out from behind a car and a bright metal arc gave off sparks as it neatly cut the gun in half. Chu Zihang’s sword then rested its edge on the man’s throat

The man stared at his severed gun in silence a moment before he noticed the blade.

“Senpai!” You joyfully run forward and wrap your arms around Zihang.

Zihang looks bewildered, unsure of what to do. His free hand hovers over your shoulder… head… and then he settles on patting you on the back.

The man at his mercy is trembling in terror at the discovery that this warrior girl in a school uniform somehow has a ‘Senpai’ at all. His companions are already staggering away, one of them limping and bowlegged as he flees. 

Chu Zihang raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for ‘money’. You stick his tongue out at him.

The man was quick to oblige, tossing him his wallet.  Chu Zihang lowered his sword. After examining the contents, he picked out a few bills and handed the man his wallet back but he was already running away.

“Were you just going to let him shoot you?” He asked.

You opened your mouth. “Yes… but!” You raise a finger to halt objections. “I knew something would happen to keep me from dying!”

Chu Zihang shook his head slowly. “Where’s Lu Mingfei and Caesar?”

Your expression sobers. “I don’t know. I was looking for the Internet Cafe…”

He walks over to a vending machine and puts in the money to buy you something to eat. You return to where the cat is resting on the trash can. “What a good kitty!” You whisper, ,gathering it up in your arms.

“You shouldn’t keep that.” The Machine is pouring out noodles with soup broth base. Your stomach rumbles and the cat meows.

“Is there something for Kitty?” You ask.

Chu Zihang sighs again. The man gave the whole wallet, after all. Chu Zihang orders some dried squid for the cat.

In a few moments both you and Kitty are sitting against the building. You’re so hungry that you scald your mouth on the soup, but you don't care. Chu Zihang is silent, still standing guard and watching. With your hunger sated, you look up at him. “You’re the team lead right?”

“Only if I find out Caesar is dead.”

“You think he’s alive? Do you want me to call you boss?”

“No.”

“Okay boss.”

You look up at him and he’s scowling at you, not in the mood for your jokes, or your kitten. “How did you survive?”

“You’re not going to believe this. A pod of dolphins brought me all the way here.”

Much to your surprise he believes you. “That’s true. The dolphins here are very friendly to the locals. In fact there was a story I read about that...”

There was a sudden cacophony of roaring engines. Chu Zihang grabs you and together you duck behind the parked cars. Motorcycles, dozens of them, are all roaring off in one direction, their lights streaming towards a single destination. Among them were vans filled with people with automatic weapons. Right after that, all the lights go out in Chizuru. From the tallest building, to the smallest house, even the lights illuminating the advertisements go dark. 

Chu Zihang sighed deep in his chest. “I have a bad feeling Caesar is that way.”