#which makes it faster because i only have to add the images text and whatever tag is needed (using portrait/landscape to indicate this)

[duskgryphon]

fun? update on my neocities i've been figuring out how to implement modals the way i want them which means a little pop-up post type thing ^ both for information about each individual piece that isn't utilising alt text (not what it's for) and also to separate the thumbnail image and modal's image to reduce loading time issues.

which means i've finally learnt css! initially i implemented the pop-ups solely using html but that doesn't work very well in the end ^^". significantly faster this way and different images simply use different class tags (? what is this called) to set them in correctly.

this whole thing has so much of me butting my head against little issues in the code and digging around for solutions (nightmare!) but it's a lot of fun. the modal itself needed adjusting the same way as the pop-up for it to sit in the centre of the viewport but that i sorted out first thankfully.

i still have to figure out how to get the images in the pop-up itself to sit centred and have them take into account the fact that none of the images are exactly the same which is... hopefully possible. it's also incredibly broken with any screen on portrait mode (or at least phones....) but there's not much i can do about that (for now?)

[letomills]

TS2 CC downloaders & creators discussion recap

Under the cut is a recap of the feedback gathered from the comments, community replies and reblogs on this thread. Thank you for taking the time to give your input! I tried to organize everything clearly in categories, with what was most often brought up at the top of each. I hope I didn’t forget anything. If I did, or you feel I didn't do your point justice, or you didn’t get a chance to say your piece, feel free to comment (I can always make edits). The text in brackets [] is my own remarks that I'm adding to the report.

About CC in general:

The people clamored for clear swatches/pictures that show which file corresponds to which recolor, so we can pick and choose what to keep.

Many people would like creators to put their usernames in their file names (or object descriptions) so they are easier to trace back to later. Two creators had counterpoints to this. One who has a long username said: “as a creator, I don't like to be told how I should name my files (besides identifying the thing clearly, which I think we really should do). If I've made the effort to make a thing, take previews, upload it, write the post etc. Just spend 5 seconds of your life renaming the file to whatever is convinient to you, I'm not going to add 16 characters to each of my files to include my username (I still think that longer names = longer loading time).” The other creator said: “As a creator, I don't want to put my full username in tooltips (just SB) because some hair names are quite long and I do not have the time to re tooltip the names.”

On the topic of file names, many people agreed that creators should not put special characters and spaces in their file names, to optimize loading times. One creator clarified: “the filenames should always have _ instead of spaces, as apparently this allows the game to load them easier/faster [...] underscores should be the only kind of special character in them” [use the Bulk Rename Utility - see tutorial by @ilovethesims2cc].

Still on file names, a Mac user said they dislike when file names are too long because apparently long file names are enough for Macs to shit themselves [sorry if I misunderstood, never had a Mac].

Several people mentioned disliking poorly optimized CC (one person listed: “bulky for no reason, unused bump maps, comically large or duplicated textures, things that could easily be repo'd but are not”), one person pointed out: “There is no reason a TS2 object needs a texture bigger than 1024x1024 unless it’s a special case like a skybox.”

One person said they dislike when a CC post lacks basic text info about what the download is. On this note, another person said they dislike when a creator isn’t clearly stating what mesh their recolors are for.

Two people asked that creators state their stuff’s polycounts.

Two people said they dislike when the recolors for a piece of CC are only available merged together, as they want to be able to easily choose which they want to keep. On the other hand, someone who “takes all recolors anyway” said they would like creators to offer a merged version of their recolors [you can merge CC to reduce loading times using LazyDuchess’s CC Merger].

One person recommended avoiding just using “here” as hyperlink text, but instead describing what you are linking to, so that if the link gets broken we still have a chance to find the thing. In the same vein, they and another person advised against reliance on an image alone to give info about the download. As we know, images can disappear, and a Google search won’t lead to the item if your post has no text that Google can detect.

About the images that creators do show, one person mentioned a download not having a proper preview as their pet peeve. On previews, two people recommended that the piece of CC be clearly visible and the main focus. Two people said they like when a preview of the item is included in the archive (“helpful when looking through old CC”).

One person said they appreciate when creators give two download links to two different hosting platforms, in case one of them ever breaks.

One person asked for creators to always test their stuff before uploading [it should go without saying but we do see egregious things to this day]. Their pet peeve is “CC with obvious issues that can’t have been tested properly in game! Don’t just look at it in build mode or bodyshop, actually use the item in live mode. Have a Sim wear the clothing or use the object!” They pointed out as an example that some CC lights don’t light up. Someone else said: “if there are minor imperfections, that's ok! But let your downloaders know what to expect.”

One person said that they enjoy reading detailed descriptions of CC: “Share your inspos, what went wrong, tag the pieces you used if you are Frankenmeshing because I might want those items too! Creating and sharing is deeply personal, don't be afraid to share a part of who you are in your downloads if you feel comfortable doing so.” [If I may offer a slight counterpoint, I think detailed technical info + proper crediting should always be frontloaded. And then, in a separate paragraph, you can write about how you made this because your grandma used to wear something similar on those cool autumn days back when you were 6. But please, don’t expect your audience to have to parse through your life story to get the basic info they need to even understand what the download is.]

On subfolders: one person mentioned that they dislike when individual files are placed in subfolders; someone else said they don’t like many subfolders within an archive; a third person said that when downloading a ‘bulk’ CC pack, they dislike when each item has its individual subfolder (unless the object has dozens of recolors).

One person said they dislike downloads that include a large number of things that aren’t all part of a single coherent set.

One person said they dislike gift/mega packages that don’t give the possibility to pick and choose what you’re downloading.

One person asked that creators compressorize their CC, unless there is a good reason for not doing so, reason that should be stated [yes please! Use jfade’s Compressorizer, found on this page].

One person said they like when creators who make recolors give a link to the mesh they are recoloring whenever possible, even if the mesh is included.

One person mentioned appreciating when creators include base PSDs in their downloads [they were talking about hair specifically but I suppose it can be done for other things too].

About Bodyshop CC specifically:

Many people mentioned disliking when a piece of clothing lacks a fat morph (as one person put it: ✨“its literally bigotry”✨ [iconic]), or has a fat morph that's blatantly a quickly WSO’d afterthought. Someone said: “Absurdly shaped/clipping fat morphs that were most probably never tested in game before uploading are pretty annoying”; someone else said: “I make male content and am constantly flabbergasted by some of the UM Top fat morphs that make no attempt to align with Bottom items, or look completely ridiculous. [...] WSOs are a great starting point, but that's just it: a starting point" [I couldn’t agree more]. One person added that clothes should also have preg morphs.

One person really wants tooltips. Someone else further asked that creators give actually helpful tooltips to their recolors to make it easier to identify which recolor corresponds to which file [you can use CatOfEvilGenius’s Tooltip utility to give your recolors tooltips that correspond to their file names].

One person mentioned gaps in meshes being their #1 pet peeve [putting this in this section because I’m assuming they’re referring to Bodyshop CC].

One person asks that creators give their accessories unique BIN numbers to make them layerable with other accessories.

The same person would like creators to remember to delete the inapplicable ages in their accessories [this also goes for hairs].

The same person also appreciates when creators make custom thumbnails for their accessories, “especially for accessories that are not on the face”.

The same person said: “Accessories that are 'part of the sim' (like ears, tails, etc.) should be showerproof”. Another person had the same request: “Body part accessories (such as animal ears, tails, horns, wings) should be available for all types of clothing.”

One person appreciates when hair meshers specify if their hair is animated or not.

One person would like to see more hairs for toddlers and children.

For geneticized skintones, one person said they find it helpful when the genetic number is indicated in the file name.

About Build & Buy CC specifically: 

Several people said they dislike when CC objects are set to an absurd price (like a couch for 1 simoleon) [this can be fixed with Pick’N’Mix’s Object Relocator], and two people added that they dislike when an object’s price isn’t congruent with their stats (like when an expensive bed has a low energy score). A creator further said: “whats worse is sometimes items are cloned from a very expensive item, and then the creator has reduced the stats shown in the description, but the bhav still has very high ratings, or sometimes it can be the other way around, an item might have been cloned from a cheap one, then their displayed stats are set to 10 but the bhavs still have low ratings”.

Three people said that they really appreciate when creators state which category their object is in and what the price is. One person said they appreciate when creators give info about how their object functions (“Is it just deco? Does it have hobby enthusiasm?” etc.). For complex objects, they like when there’s a video to show how it works. 

One person said they dislike when creators place objects in categories that don’t make sense. Someone said more specifically that they like when objects are put in categories other than deco/sculptures or deco/misc.

One person said they dislike blank object descriptions or object descriptions that were left the same as that of the Maxis object that the piece of CC was cloned from.

One person said they don’t like when objects aren’t enabled for quarter-tile placement [can be fixed in simPe or with the Object Relocator].

One person said they dislike non-functional objects (like a sofa that’s a sculpture).

One person brought up two experiences they and their friend had with CC beds that didn’t have unique GUIDs and therefore would override other beds. In the same vein, someone else said they dislike when a creator forgets to mention that their CC is not custom but default and will override something in the game.

One person encourages creators to learn about the TXMT settings of objects (e.g. should an object be reflective?) and praised @pforestsims and @shastakiss for their CC in that regard. Another person said they dislike when an object is too shiny, which is also a TXMT setting.

One person said they dislike “transparent cut out textures”. [I quote because I’m clueless about this:] “I’ve seen this a lot on TS3 or other game conversions, where the texture has been imported without enabling transparency, and you get ugly squares around draw handles and such. Import the texture as DXT 5 and enable AlphaTest in the TXMT.”

One person said they like when 4t2 conversions have several subsets.

The Mac user among us would like creators to resize their walls and floors for Macs, otherwise they show up grey in game.

About lots specifically:

Two people said they like when creators show the floor plans of their lots.

[f8ie]

How generative AI will affect multimedia designers like me

AI has helped me do my job faster, one of my favourite is the Content aware fill in Photoshop and Grammarly. However, it still makes me wonder sometimes:

What will this mean for my career? Will Generative AI make my job irrelevant, or will it create new opportunities for multimedia designers?

I’m going to look for ways on how my work can stay competitive before the generative AI takes over.

What is Generative AI?

To those new and haven’t heard of Generative AI.

AI is artificial intelligence. Generative AI is fed massive amounts of training data, which it learns from. Once the AI model has been trained, people can ask it to make something new by providing a prompt such as “create an image of a unicorn gliding through space with a magic pizza carpet”. The AI then attempts to create a new artwork in minutes that reflects what the prompt asked for. It can be text, images, video, audio, and more from a vast of data collection it was given.

You can try them out. My favourite is:

ChatGPT - To help me express myself better through text.

Dall-E - to generate graphical ideas for me which I can build upon to suit what I really want to create.

They are so good that sometimes I get a little scared when I think about what will happen if these tools becomes better and we also have that issue with copyright and ethical use.

So, after doing some research here are what I think I can take to stay competitive despite this emerging technology:

Embrace the technology and learn about the possibilities and issues. The more we know about generative AI, the better we can use it to our advantage. (And getting rid of the FEAR of the uknown). I can do this by taking part on how this technologu is progressing through collation and beta testing. In this way we can keep up to date with the technology and even think of way to improve it to make our lives easier. I currently follow Karen Cheng and she experiment with new technology 3D and AI etc using her creativity. I will also take part in the upcoming LabLab.ai hackathon (I’ll post soon how this one will go as not only I know nothing about creating anything AI, this will also be my first hackathon).

Use the tools, but let’s evaluate the results. It can be used as starting point but we can’t just rely on it for the end result. AI can help us brainstorm and generate ideas, but it's up to us to add our personal touch and creativity to it.

Improve my soft skills a.k.a. people skills. AI at the end of the day is a machine. It will only work from the prompts or data that we give it. So it is still up to us to be articulate, to analyze and solve problems.

From the research done by Pearson. Graphic designers job has a 69.9% chance of growth by 2030. There was no Multimedia designer but other related jobs with design has 50+ chance of growth.

To prepare for it apparently we have to improve on:

Originality

Fluency of Ideas

Management of Personnel Resources

To end this post, but not my research, generative AI is changing the world and how we work. As a multimedia artist and designer, it's up to me to embrace this technology because we cannot stop it’s progression. This tool will become part of my process as a designer - what I can do is take advantage of it, learn more about it so it doesn’t catch me by surprise, learn to develop skills that only humans have: emotional intelligence, use AI for ideation and whatever it generates - build on it with my creativity also resonating with my fellow humans. I will try and follow the three things and if I do I think I have a chance to stay competitive as a multimedia designer with Generative AI in the future.

[akibaestudio]

The Immediate Future

Hello everyone. 

This entry is about what I am doing these days, what I have planned for the future (always speaking in terms of short or mid-time) and what you will expect to find. Also, I want to answer some questions I have received via PM’s.

Going to those questions first.

No, I don’t plant to monetize my art. All my stuff is free, and I will keep it in that way. It is true I used to have a Patreon, but for me it was a stressful experience. Don’t know other artists but if I have subscribers I feel the need to create exclusive art for them and not always I have the time or the spirit to sit in front of the computer and start to build a scene, design a character and work in all the post-production. The simplest images I do take me at least two/three hours without the render time. And such images are the fastest: they only have a single character in a simple pose with few props. So as I don’t want to stress myself I prefer to share everything free. Luckily for me I have other sources of income XD.

Yes, I will continue to do images with what we could consider the most extreme content: certain fetishes like scat/bestiality/BDSM and even some abuse/torture scenes. As you may imagine, in Deviant Art all that content is forbidden, so it is uploaded only in my blog and Pixiv. Surprisingly for me, such images are very well received in Pixiv and are the images which generates more traffic and comments (in a mainly Japanese website).

If you like that stuff, or simply the characters in explicit sex situations (and remember most of them are sex workers, so they get involved in explicit situations easily) you should follow me also in those sites. Specially the blog where everything is uploaded with no censorship and images can be ordered by labels and tags to find faster whatever you may want.

___

Now, back to the stories.

– Rachel’s story will continue for several months. She is a very popular character, probably the most popular, and her texts and images are very well received. She allows me to introduce new characters (using her role as a porn producer) and to write about a lot of themes (porn stories, daily life, Andromeda Co, …). 

– Mika’s story. This also will continue, but will be much shorter. Mika is a secondary character and wanted to write about her for two reasons. First, to have a protagonist with a more natural look and lifestyle. And second, her personality allows me to write about other themes like abuse, or how a naturally innocent person will handle a career in the sex industry.

– Bimbo School/Academy: again, this will continue. I plan to keep this series as a background for the bimbo images. I like bimbos, but the simple images with them posing are a bit boring. All of them look the same. At least for my personal taste. So narrating their experiences in a weird school where they are being trained to be living plastic sex dolls is funny. At least for me. And as I don’t this because of the money, please allow me to have fun XD

The future.

– I feel some characters are a bit “burned” so I’ve been working in replacements. As I don’t know how well, or bad, they will be received, I thought in doing something like a sub-plot in the Rachel narrative to introduce them and depending on how they are received some will continue and others will go to the secondary characters box.This group of characters are several performers that come to Europe (remember that Rachel’s studio is in London) from Japanese porn industry. I have some of them already designed. The idea for this sub-plot is using Max (the private detective who collaborates with the Interpol in the Andromeda Co investigation) as main narrator. This gives me the chance to use his point of view as someone from “outside” the sex industry and also add some noir novel flavor.

– Giga-boobs. I think I have written in the past how managing in the software I use to make the images characters with massive tits and curves is difficult and tricky because meshes constantly collide and everything go mad. Also, it is not easy for me to write a narrative about characters with massively big boobs. I can’t understand how a woman like that could live, so all the texts I’ve done sounded stupid at the end. And perhaps they seemed stupid and silly because these characters are like that. So I want to do another subseries (using Rachel again as excuse) with girls with unreal huge tits. This series will not be about them or their lives, but about those silly and stupid situations in the porn scenes they do and/or Rachel trying to produce their films. The idea is to write the most silly and bizarre scenarios, like a mix of 70s porn with drugs and crazy bodies XD.

Actual characters like Nelly, Adriana or Aless will appear because I think they are part of that club of girls with massively big boobs. I know these characters are familiar but if you put them in perspective, having their bodies doesn’t seem to be the healthiest XDAnd I am still wondering how the hell Nelly or Aless can sleep.

That’s all for now. Of course, random images with the characters in random situations/poses will also part of the menu.

Thanks for following me and reading this. If you have any idea, petition, wish or whatever don’t hesitate to contact me or write it down here.

Have fun!!!!

[caratmagic]

—jung wooyoung—

contains: arguing, pretty offensive words, explicit content

word count: 2.3k

mika's blog🌻 @marigold-sunflowers & yale's blog🦋 @yateez

🌻taglist🦋: @nikkell​ @yunsangoveryonder​ @sunwooyoung​ @hwanderlands​ @multidreams-and-desires​ @reeateez​ @snacksonwang​ @sunsethw4​ @nevieatiny​ 

Let us know if you want to be added to the taglist!~

Enemy Territory 🌻chapter 4🌻

You hate that you find yourself dragging your feet slowly—yet quietly— to Wooyoung’s door. Hoping that the noises you hear from behind it aren’t those of pleasure.

There’s an exchange of them chatting, audible enough to hear but not enough to make out the words. As if snooping like this wasn’t enough, you press the shell of your ear against the door. Using the frame of it to steady your body from making any unnecessary movements or noise.

A rustle. Then several more. You think you hear the sheets move.

They’ve stopped talking.

More silence, then a loud thump onto the floor.

Your heart races out of your chest and you have a hard time picturing what could possibly be going on inside Wooyoung’s room.

Footsteps hurry to the door and before you could get more than halfway down the hall, Wooyoung’s body peeks out from behind his door.

“Snooping on me now?” He scoffs with that annoyingly charming sneer. “I thought we were supposed to stay out of each other’s business? Now look who’s breaking their own rules.”

You shut your eyes tightly while your back faces your ex.

Fuck.

A breath quickly fills your lungs as you turn around in efforts to compose your expressions. You’re somehow confused as to why he was suddenly wearing a shirt.

“I— I was just about to knock and ask you what type of meat you wanted to grill, you idiot.” Your mouth moves faster than your thoughts and you’re so glad that your brain was quick enough to pull something straight out of your ass. “I didn’t want to…  interrupt.”

Wooyoung holds the door open slightly for you to catch a small glimpse of the girl politely seated at the edge of his bed. Blinking curiously at you with a content smile on her face, although her tears still stain her cheeks. “It’s not even noon yet y/n, I’m smarter than that to start having rough sex knowing that you’re in the apartment.”

This thought somehow makes your stomach turn and not in a pleasant way. You didn't want to imagine Wooyoung like this with someone else. Yet, an image of him bare and in his sexual glory flashes across your mind and for a second you forget that you aren’t single. You forget that you have a neglectful boyfriend who likes to have sex with you once a week then proceeds to avoid you until the next weekend arrives.

Does Wooyoung have sex often when I’m not around? Did he have to use the word ‘rough’? Do they have rough sex together?—

Why was the thought of Wooyoung having sex with someone else more distressing to you than the entire problem of your boyfriend literally using you as a weekend booty call?

Not a single soul should know why, because the reality of it all is that: One, Wooyoung is single. And two, you are not.

So you had no right to be bothered about it.

Right?

“Uh. Right,” You subconsciously mess with the tips of your fingers to think of what to say next since you didn’t expect that his comment would throw your mind into a loop. “Just text me when you’ve, um, decided what you want. I’ll head to the store now since you’re busy… so you’ve got 20 minutes to make a choice.”

“No need to wait 20 minutes for me to text you, y/n,” Wooyoung slowly pulls his lips into a gentle smile. A smile that sets off a million bursts of fireworks through your chest. “You already know what kind of meat I like to grill.”

Instantly you blink away the feeling—or at least try to ignore it. “People change. Just wanted to ask in case you had a change in taste.”

Wooyoung presses his lips together before nodding his head slowly. Clearly catching your composure and deciding not to point it out due to the guest on his bed. “Uh, nope. My tastes are constant, y/n.”

The worst part of it all is, your conversation was being monitored by a ditsy flower, just waiting for Wooyoung to come back and take care of her… You hated it. Everything about this set up.

Now, heading out of the apartment to get groceries seemed like a much better idea to you than twiddling your thumbs to wait for Wooyoung’s pretty guest to leave.

“I’ll head out then.”

Upon grabbing your purse and your keys, you curse at yourself mentally for getting caught snooping. Even scolding your heart for causing your mind to lose control of your emotions.

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

It had only been half an hour since you left to get ingredients for the meal with Wooyoung, yet a familiar vehicle pulls into the apartment complex parking lot.

A few flights up and your boyfriend is back at the front of your door. Sure to himself that your car has left and that you’d be gone for a while.

San punches in the code of your apartment door. When it opens, a girl stands on the other side peering up at San with a shocked expression.

“Oh hey, It’s y/n boyfriend.” She smiles before turning to Wooyoung who, at the moment, keeps a straight face.

They had finally completed their 30 minute rant session, where she comes to him for help with her loneliness. Which was a topic to talk about for another time since Wooyoung felt like it wasn’t even his place to do it for her— also, considering he’s rejected her multiple times to be something more than her emotional support friend.

He never felt like a new relationship was something he needed.

As far as relationships are concerned, Wooyoung has enough on his plate to deal with considering the ugly truth he’s recently discovered. And of course, his unsettled feelings for his gorgeous ex.

“What are you doing back?” Wooyoung asks San, holding the door open for his emotionally unstable friend.

“Uh, coming to see my girlfriend??” San exchanges an offended glare at Wooyoung.

“Oh, I thought you already had your fill for her last night… What happened? Fell asleep before you could finish the job?” Wooyoung’s words are calm yet sharp like knives. Attacking San with precision as he tilts his head in accusation. “She’s out getting groceries.” He adds.

“You know,” San narrows his eyes, striding to level his face right in front of Wooyoung’s. “You have a lot of nerve thinking you can have any say in our relationship considering you’re her fucking ex.”

“We only broke up because I decided to switch colleges last minute without telling her.” Wooyoung doesn’t back down. He’s aware that his choice was the reason why the two of you broke up and that he should’ve told you sooner he wasn’t going to go to the same college as you guys had planned. “At least I never snuck out of bed after having sex with her.”

San scoffs at the gall. “Don’t act like you fucking know me.”

“I don’t.” Wooyoung shifts his weight and sticks his hands into his jean pockets. “But I know every part of y/n way better than you do. Every. Single. Part.”

San’s hand clenches into a fist and right before he draws it back to swing at Wooyoung. The girl awkwardly standing beside them in the threshold of the door raises her voice. “Hey, as much as I like the drama, I kind of have work so if I can just pass through…”

San doesn’t steer his eyes away from Wooyoung as he takes a step to the side for the girl to get around his body. Too peeved to realize that he was blocking the door.

“…I’ll see you later, Wooyoung. Thanks for helping me out again.” She waves before disappearing into the hall.

San huffs through his nose. It’s upsetting to him that Wooyoung doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by the situation. “Why aren’t you packing your shit? Isn’t this your last week?”

As if his train of thought derails, without even waiting for an answer to his own questions, San pushes past your ex and heads straight into your room.

Looking for what he left so recklessly before sneaking away that morning.

Wooyoung, with his hands still in his pockets, calmly follows San. Watching your boyfriend’s frantic search for whatever he’s misplaced.

Since Wooyoung respects your privacy, he stops right at the entrance of your room. “Did you wait for y/n to leave the apartment?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” San tosses a pillow off your bed. Not sparing a single glance at your ex.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung leans against the door. “I mean, if I had something to hide, I guess I’d want to wait until she was gone too.”

San stops completely. His heart drops to his stomach when he turns to your ex standing in front of your room. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wooyoung shrugs with a playful smirk etching onto his face as one of his hands pulls something out of his right pocket. “You tell me.”

There. What San was looking for.

His phone.

“Where did you find that!?” San yells as he practically dives for it.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wooyoung shoves it back into his pocket. Placing his hand in front of himself defensively. “Question is, why are you so upset?”

San swallows and processes quickly before clearing his throat. He couldn’t understand why his palms were so sweaty. “It’s—Because it’s fucking mine! Hand it over!”

Wooyoung shakes his head, angling his body away from your boyfriend. “It can’t be yours.”

“Are you fucking mad?” San yells again. Smacking Wooyoung’s arm away from the position he’s guarding his pocket. “Of course, it is. It’s my phone!”

“No, no, no.” Wooyoung’s stupid, playful smile begins to boil hate into San’s veins. “This can’t be your phone.”

“I’ll drop kick that fucking smile off your face, you son of a bitch, give me back my phone!”

“Dude,” Wooyoung chuckles, loving how riled up your shitty boyfriend is getting. “I swear this phone has got to be someone else’s… because when I saw it on the couch, ringing at 4 am, someone named Eunji was calling to ask if her ‘daddy’ was still going to—and I’ll quote her on this, “Rearrange my guts like you always do on Saturday nights.” And you're telling me you’re certain that this is your phone?”

The reality settles into the air and San realizes that he’s been caught cheating on you… by your ex.

This is when Wooyoung’s twisted smirk turns into an angry scowl. He’s disgusted that you found a man so indisputably vile and unloyal.

“You really think you’ll get away with this? Lying to y/n like this and fucking her once every week just to make up for how shitty a person you are?”

San’s gaze falters to the floor and he snatches his phone from the unguarded pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans. “What are you gonna do, huh? Tattle-tail on me?” He shoves it into his back pocket, scoffing. “She’ll never believe you. She hates you.”

“Even if she does,” Wooyoung turns on his heels and enters into his room across the hall. “She’ll wish you were dead after figuring out that you leave her in the mornings just to be in some other woman’s bed the very same night.”

San follows Wooyoung a few steps into the hall. “You wouldn’t dare tell her.” He spits.

An exasperated sigh paired with the front door swinging open, startles the two men away from glaring at one another.

*********

After 30 minutes of shopping, you head home.

The entire time in the parking lot, you were gathering the courage to talk yourself into confidently walking back into your house. 

So what if he was having sex? You have sex all the time with San while Wooyoung stays in the room across the hall from yours.

How is coming back home knowing that he’s having fun with a woman be any different?

Equality at its best example for it. You remind yourself as you exit the elevator.

To your dismay, You were unpleasantly greeted by a very voluptuous woman with intruding questions as to why you were going to enter into her boyfriend’s home.

You push past the nuisance at your front door. Sighing as you lazily drop the groceries onto the floor.

You can only assume that this other girl— an entirely different girl compared to the one from this morning—is Wooyoung's little problem.

This boy must be cheating… What a waste. “Taste’s are constant” my ass.

You pray that Wooyoung’s ditsy girl toy from earlier this morning has left.  Though you liked witnessing drama, you didn’t want to see two girls fight over your ex. “Wooyoung? I think you have a guest.” You call out as you take off your shoes.

To your surprise, Your boyfriend is staring at you from the hallway— eyes wide and stunned.

Wooyoung steps out of his room to stand in the hall next to San. A flat smile sets on his features as he stares at you and eunji. “I won’t need to…” He seems to be talking to San when he speaks. “Next time, set a better password on your phone. You never know who’ll scroll through your messages and send people your girlfriend’s address.”

This confuses you. Immensely. More so, when San’s face drains of all color.

“Baby! Who the hell is this girl?” Miss voluptuous checks your shoulder as she rushes past you. Headed towards Wooyoung with her arms stretched out.

What rattles your world from it’s axis isn’t that Wooyoung doesn’t hold her, it’s that the girl doesn’t even look at him. She doesn’t even acknowledge that Wooyoung’s standing there.

Instead,

She’s all over your boyfriend. Calling him “baby’ and glaring at you as if you were nothing more than a disgusting insect.

No, no… I must be dreaming.

“Sannie, who the hell is this girl and why is she coming into your apartment?”

[ chapter 5 >> ] 

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part one) 🐰

READ PART TWO

↳ summary: the reader finds herself in a little bit of trouble... financially. enter steve rogers. 

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.6k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: i started writing this series ages ago but i’m thinking that maybe posting it on here will give me the inspiration to continue! please enjoy! ❤️

chapter one: you expensive you know that?

—

" you expensive, you know that?

i'm high-maintenance a little but not in a, not in a negative way

i just like extremely expensive things"

- faithful, drake

—

“But Daddy-!”

“No, absolutely not,” your father shuts you down without hesitation which immediately makes your eyes water.

“Please, I promise I won’t do it again-”

“That’s what you said the last time,” he reminds you nonchalantly and you can hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard in the background of the call. He’s not even paying full attention to you, likely still working on whatever the CEO of a multi- billion dollar corporation needs to work on.

“But I’m serious this time!” you insist, cocking a hip and tapping your acrylics loudly on the top of your marble kitchen counter. “You know what I’m like - I swear I’ll do better this time-”

“Nope,” his hard tone cuts you off as you hear his office phone ring. He sighs loudly over the receiver which makes your heart fall. “Look, honey-”

You know what’s coming and you can’t even try to stop it.

“-I’ve got another call coming in. I’m not sending you another dime until you can prove to me that you have the ability to be financially independent. I didn’t pay for all of those expensive private schools so that you could sit on your ass all day and blow my money like it’s in endless supply. You have all the necessary credentials to go and get a well-paying job, so go get one, goddammit. And please call your mother - she’s been trying to call you all day. Neither of us have any time left to entertain your little addictions nor your blatant disregard for the hard work that we’ve put in to get you where you are today.

“You’ve proven to me before that you are grossly incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks, so don’t let me down with this one,” he sighs loudly. “Sometimes, I wish you were more like my colleagues’ kids - they’re doctors and lawyers but all you are is ungrateful. I’ve really gotta take this call,” he says your name sternly which makes you tap your nails even faster. “Do as you’re told for once in your damn life.”

“Daddy-!” you borderline shriek once more before the phone clicks and he’s off attending to more important business.

You don’t even realize that you’re pouting until your lips start to tremble, nor do you realize how much his words have gotten to you until you touch your cheek gently with your fingertips and they come back wet and glistening like gold in the warm light of day.

Maybe he’s right. You’ve been living in this penthouse for the past year without having to worry about anything. You loved it when you attended the first viewing, mainly because of the huge windows, three bedrooms and bathrooms (that you definitely don’t need because you live alone), the open plan, spacious kitchen and living areas, and the fact that all of your neighbors are either famous or excessively wealthy like you. You saw the acquirement of this apartment as a prime opportunity to further climb the social ladder, not that it’s really all that hard for you considering the fact that your father is one of the richest people in not only New York but the entire country. But you’d lived in Italy for a year prior to moving back to New York and upon your return to the USA, you decided that you really wanted to re-establish a name for yourself here, of course with the help of your father. He bought the penthouse almost the moment that you said you had your eye on it, and he just kind of…left you here. He’s only come to visit a handful of times since you bought it two years ago, though your mother has been over far more frequently to your utter dismay.

You inhale deeply through your nose, your eyelash extensions fluttering dramatically against your cheekbones. Grabbing your phone - the newest iPhone that you bought after you broke your other one at your friend Peter’s party - you sulk over to one of your ridiculously overpriced couches and fall dramatically - but not dramatically enough to crease the material of your latest drunk purchase, a white Gucci jumpsuit - on top of all your throw pillows, the picture of a damsel in distress. Your freshly manicured toes - painted white yesterday - curl into the softness of it as you huff, dabbing delicately at your face again to rid yourself of any traces of sadness before thinking about what the hell you’re going to do next.

Yes, you have a savings account that is far more than enough for you and your grandchildren’s grandchildren to live lavish lives and while that’s all well and good, even you know that you probably shouldn’t spend that... but it’d have to do until you found another way to get your money. With that, you shrug noncommittally and your face ID unlocks your phone so that you can start your newest endeavor - buying one of everything off of Alexander Wang.

Sure, you should be proactive and take initiative to finally take the steps to distance yourself from your parents, but you’ve only just had your twentieth birthday. After graduating from high school at fifteen - yes, fifteen: your parents really pushed you, to say the least, and it helped that you were naturally intelligent beyond the capabilities of even the nation’s best high school teachers -  you started your undergraduate at Harvard in the fall and finished at eighteen. You took what you dubbed an ‘extended summer vacation’ - hence Italy - and now you’re at an impasse.

Okay, admittedly your various interests - you refuse to call them addictions because they’re really not that serious - that may or may not include a wide array of party drugs and alcohol probably don’t make you the most trustworthy person in the eyes of your parents. But you’ve done everything that they’ve told you to do for the past twenty years of your life - can they blame a girl for wanting to have a little fun? A smile spreads across your face as, while scrolling, you spy the blue dad jeans that were completely out of stock just last week and quickly add them to your cart with a sense of self-satisfaction before continuing to add almost everything else to your bag. It’s not like you’re heavily dependent on anything - substance abuse is not a good look for you: it was definitely more early 2000s than now - and you only do them recreationally in social situations, so your parents really have nothing to worry about. They’re overly paranoid about you somehow tarnishing their image when in reality, your work in and outside of an academic setting has really bolstered their reputation more than they could have ever hoped for - not to toot your own metaphorical horn, but your endless philanthropic work coupled with your eagerness to “make a change” and your work in fashion has put you on the Forbes 30 Under 30 every year since you were fifteen.

You press the checkout button and your Apple Pay seamlessly completes the purchase for you: $29,000. Shrugging noncommittally, you lock your phone and stare pensively at the picturesque view of New York City outside of your window; that is until Alexa alerts you that Natasha is calling you.

Perfect timing.

Natasha’s voice echoes over the loudspeakers in the ceiling. “Hey, bunny,” she greets you and you groan loudly at the nickname, restlessly hopping up to grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“Hey Nat,” you reply, more of a whine than anything else, and she laughs loudly at your tone.

“What happened to you? “

“Daddy cut me off,” you huff, walking to the couches in front of the TV and settling down with your glass of water. With a press of a few buttons on the universal remote, you FaceTime your best friend instead - a flash of red hair and then a blindingly white smile. She assesses you on your couch and laughs again, a full-bodied cackle that only intensifies your pout.

“It’s not funny,” you protest, although the corners of your lips are quirking up in amusement at her ridiculous laughter.

“What did I tell you?” Natasha struggles to get the words out in between chuckles. “I knew he was gonna do this-”

“Yeah, so did I, but I didn’t think he’d do it this soon-!”

“I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner,” Natasha moves around a little before propping her phone up against her knees so that you can see her sitting comfortably in her bed. She starts picking at her own black acrylics, “and you can’t deny, bunny-”

“Don’t say I deserve this,” you narrow your eyes at her, and Natasha only sends you her signature smirk.

“I wouldn’t say you deserve it, per se,” Natasha begins, “but you’ve gotta admit,” she says your name, clearly on the verge of laughter again, “I like a party as much as the next girl, but you do go a little overboard-”

“I wouldn’t say overboard,” you insist, suddenly taking up a very keen interest in your cuticles. “Here’s what it is: Mother doesn’t like the fact that I don’t like her and Daddy’s just flat out disappointed in me for no reason-”

“-apart from the fact that you very nearly got caught doing lines of blow off of Senator Pierce’s son-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupt her, closing your eyes and pressing a finger to your lips while shaking your head, unable to fight the growing grin on your face. “That was one time-”

“You mean the one time you got caught-?”

“Yes, Natasha, that’s what I mean. Anyway - you never call me like this unless you need something - thought you were gonna text me instead. What’s up? Is it Bru-”

“Oh, no,” Natasha quickly cuts you off, her cheeks flushing red. “Bruce and I have been over for a while now-”

“You were just talking about him last week-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she deflects, tapping her fingers on her thigh. “I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go shopping for Parker’s party that’s tonight-?”

“Yes, absolutely yes - why would you even have to ask-?”

“Okay, cool,” she interrupts you, smiling toothily. “Get Jarvis to get you there by 2:30 - I wanna go to the Louis store: the summer collection just dropped-”

“Sounds perfect-”

“But one more thing,” she says your name again but in a more concerned tone. You finish your glass of water and set it on the coffee table before leaning forward slightly.

“What’s going on, Nat?”

“I’m worried about you, bunny,” both her eyes and her tone have softened drastically, making you purse your lips. “What’re you gonna do now that your dad’s not giving you any more money?”

You sigh loudly through your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Nat,” you admit, snapping a hair tie against the skin of your wrist rapidly. “I’ll just have to find a job - or do more sponsorships and ads and get back into modeling and maybe actually try acting this time?”

Her green eyes pin you to your couch, even through the screen, and she scrutinizes your face for almost a full thirty seconds before scrunching up her nose and nodding hesitantly. “Alright. As long as you’re sure that you can make it work… because if not, I have an option that I think you may like…”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline as you motion for her to continue.

“Y’know how Wanda got really into that thing a couple of years ago?”

Your brain works overtime, trying to remember exactly what it was that Wanda was doing - all you remember is that it was fairly secretive and she didn’t tell you a lot about why she kept sneaking around.

“She was seeing that older guy,” you snap your fingers when you remember, Natasha’s slow nod confirming it, and then promptly frown because-

“What does this have to do with me?” You stare directly into Natasha’s eyes as she falters, obviously wondering if it’s too late to just backtrack altogether - yes, it is - and then she sighs.

“She wasn’t just seeing him,” your best friend starts slowly, choosing her words with great care, “she was his sugar baby.”

Now, this is news to you.

“You’re fucking with me,” you scoff in disbelief. “Wanda?”

Natasha keeps nodding, blowing her bubblegum between her rouge-painted lips until it pops with a sharp snap. “I’m serious, you can go ask her. But believe me, I was just as surprised as you when she first told me-”

“She didn’t tell me,” you murmur, something akin to betrayal burning your tear ducts. Natasha only barks out a laugh and clucks her tongue at you in a decidedly motherly way.

“Of course she didn’t tell you,” the redhead snorts, shaking her head. “She didn’t want you getting any ideas,” she says your name through a laugh, “you were - what - like eighteen two years ago? That would’ve been questionable at best -”

“But you guys didn’t know that I was gonna do anything-”

“Come on, bunny,” Natasha pins you with a look that shuts you up almost immediately. “Give us some credit - we’re not dumb and we know you-”

“Fine,��� you drag out the last syllable of the word childishly. “So why mention it to me now?”

“Because you’re old enough… and in a situation where your Daddy’s not paying for any of your stuff anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve got, like, a lot of other opportunities that I don’t even need to work for,” you tell her cockily, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “Why should I take this one when I could get any other real job so easily?”

Natasha’s lips curve into that same smirk. “Because you’re a whore.”

You collapse into a fit of giggles but she’s right. Really and truly, you are - what you like to call - a self-proclaimed slut. But any woman who’s free enough in her sexuality seems to be one these days, so you own the title that’s been hurled at you like an insult for so many years. You wear it with pride... for the most part, but not too much pride because you still have parents who still - somehow - think you’re a total virgin.

(you are still a virgin but your promiscuity makes people think otherwise)

“Right,” you agree easily, tapping your nails on the arm of the couch.

“Just something for you to think about,” Natasha hums, checking the time on her watch before rubbing the sleeve of her white Balenciaga hoodie over her face “Now, leave me alone. I’ve gotta go get ready; I’ll see you in a few.”

Without any further conversation, she ends the call and leaves you laughing light-heartedly although something heavy continues to weigh on your conscience. A sugar daddy. You can’t lie to yourself and say that it’s something that you’ve never thought about before - because it most definitely is - and it’s been the shameless subject of some of your filthiest dreams. Are you going to lie and say that you don’t have an… affinity for older men? No, you aren’t. Are you gonna tell yourself that the idea of a man spoiling you doesn’t make heat burn in your core? Absolutely not. However, you’ve never thought of yourself as the submissive type. Your confidence - no, cockiness has always been a real defining trait for you and that’s always worked in your favor when it comes to romance or even sex. You take what you want, rather than waiting for it to come to you. Although, you have a feeling that an attitude like that could get you in a lot of trouble in circumstances like these.

But what’s life without a little danger?

—

You’ve put on a tight, cropped black t-shirt and on top, a brown Fendi mini dress with thin spaghetti straps that clings to your body like a second skin; your feet are clad in heeled Louboutin ankle boots. Grabbing your black Prada bag and almost comically giant black, square Burberry sunglasses, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You only put on a little bit of blush, mascara, and tinted lipgloss, accessorizing with small golden hoops, an array of rings that have been gifted to you by either your father or your ex-boyfriends and a simple gold necklace that spells out ‘bunny’ in cursive, a gift from Natasha. Satisfied, you slide your sunglasses onto your face and head to the elevator, phone in hand.

When you reach the lobby, Jarvis is waiting for you, holding the door open with a kind smile on his face.

“Miss,” he greets you, ushering you out the door. You basically jump on him, winding your arms around his neck and he chuckles as you sway back and forth in your embrace.

“Afternoon, Jarvis,” you grin at him.

The two of you walk outside to the black Range Rover with the tinted windows - black matches your outfit today - and as you climb in the back, your security detail split up into the other SUVs in front and behind you.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Jarvis asks you conversationally, stopping at a red light not even 15 seconds after you pull away from the front of your apartment. Damn New York traffic.

“Nat and I are going to Nordstrom’s,” you tell him despite the fact that he already knows, but he nods regardless. “And then Peter Parker’s hosting a party tonight.”

“And will you be needing a ride to that event?”

“No thanks, J,” you shoot him a smile before looking back down at your phone. “I’ll probably get a ride with Natasha.”

Jarvis nods and the rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, the radio playing softly and the clicking of your nails on your phone screen the only sounds in the car.

—

“There’s absolutely no way you’re wearing that-”

“Shut up, Nat!” you squeal, grabbing the dress off the rack. “It’s kinda cute!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes at you fondly, staring at the monstrosity that you’re clutching in your hands.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she deadpans, searching your face almost desperately for any sign of sarcasm.

You act offended: “I’m not!”

Nat just pokes you in the sides, tugs on your earlobe, and continues her hunt, which makes you burst into loud laughter and leaves the store employees looking at the two of you  in what you’ve come to recognize as contained, professional amusement.

—

It’s about an hour before the party starts when you even start thinking about getting ready. In a Versace robe with your hair wrapped up in a towel, you’re scrolling through Instagram with a mud mask on. Nat comes into the room and shrieks at the sight of your face, making you flick your eyes up and grin as wide as the mask lets you. With her hand over her heart, she stares at you dryly while silent little chuckles shake your whole body.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarks, eyeing you with an air of suspicion.

“Of course I am, Nat,” you look at her in disbelief. “I’m about to get wasted tonight-”

She interrupts you by calling your name out in a warning tone. Your only response is a dramatic roll of your eyes.

“We’re going so that we can have fun, not so you can go on a bender-”

“I won’t!” you drop your phone and throw your hands up in exasperation. “Holy shit, Mom - do you have no confidence in me?!”

Loud silence hangs in the air for a minute while Nat just blinks at you.

“...remember when you left me alone in Manhattan because you went to go trip on acid with Senator Coulson’s son-”

“Oh my God, Nat, okay, I get it - I’m a shitty friend and a drug addict, blah blah blah, whatever-”

“You’re not an addict,” she corrects you. “You just... really like doing drugs.”

You shrug, stretching your arms over your head, bringing them back down and then slapping your hands loudly on the bare skin of your thighs. The sound makes Nat flinch which amuses you mildly before you yawn loudly.

“Need me to help you with anything before I start getting ready?” you offer, knowing that once you start getting ready, you’re going to be in your own little world for about an hour and a half.

Natasha - who is significantly less high-maintenance than you - shakes her head. You nod, standing up and heading into her bathroom to wash the mud off your face.

“Did you think about what I told you earlier?” she asks, following you into the spacious room to lay on the chaise tucked against the wall behind you. You lock eyes with her in the mirror as she stretches herself out like a feline.

“Yeah,” you say nonchalantly. “Just for a little, but I don’t know if that kinda thing is for me.”

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looking down at her nails. “Oh, okay. I was just wondering ‘cause Wanda said there would be some people that she knows are into that kinda thing at Parker’s tonight-”

Oh, now your interest is peaked. You whip around, towel still in hand from drying your face, and stare her dead in the eye.

“For real?”

“Yeah, but if you’re not really interested-”

“Shut up, Natasha, you know I’m interested.” Your heart beats fast in your chest and your teeth catch on your lower lip, gnawing on it gently. Your fingers come back up to your wrist and stretch the elastic so that it bounces back against your skin. “Like… a lot of them will be there?”

She nods, regarding you with cool interest. “At least that’s what Wanda said. She’s better versed in this whole thing than I am.”

You can only bob your head up and down, suddenly nervous about attending this party. Natasha can sense it, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“Look, bunny, it’ll be fine,” she gives you a reassuring smile. “They’ll love you. And if you change your mind, you won’t even have to interact with them in the first place; you’ll just be like any other person attending this thing. But Wanda knows a lot of them - that should be reassuring enough: she knows all about these guys, so it’s not like she’s going to introduce us to any major creeps.”

“Okay.”

—

“Okay,” you breathe out. Okay, you can do this. You’ve met presidents and prime ministers, singers and actors, kings and queens, but you’ve never been this nervous in your entire life.

Granted, none of those people were asking you to exchange sex for money, so it’s not really the same thing.

You’re wearing Dolce & Gabbana tonight - because they asked you to - and the golden silk dress that hits your mid-thigh and hugs your body so tight that it looks as if you were poured into it makes it all worth it. It shows off all of the dips and curves of your body and paired with your Alexander Vauthier clear slingback heels and a gold Vanina pearl-embellished handbag, you feel like a million dollars (even though that’s definitely not what this outfit costs). Natasha is standing next to you in a black Dolce & Gabbana corset dress - because they asked her to - and black red bottoms.

Your long red nails come up to toy with your ‘bunny’ necklace while you scan the massive crowds for a friendly face. It’s true that between the two of you, it is very much likely that you know - or know of - everybody here. But you don’t spare them a second glance despite the fact that they’re ogling you. No, you don’t linger on the bulging muscles and impressive height nor the full lips and pretty hair like you usually do. Instead, you’re looking for-

“Wanda! ” you call out, eyes falling on her reddish-brown hair flowing down her back in loose waves.

She’s standing by the bar, speaking to someone that you don’t know when she turns around, blue eyes quickly landing on you as she gives you that charming smile. Grabbing Nat’s hand, you run over to her and envelop her in a warm embrace. She squeals loudly, stumbling back as you realize that she’s probably already had a few drinks by now.

“Hi, guys,” she greets the two of you, looking up and down at your outfits approvingly. “You look hot.”

You return the compliment and pressing a kiss to her cheek, you stroke her hair while she and Nat engage in conversation. You take the opportunity to stare at all of the different groups of people who have gathered on Peter’s rooftop. There must be at least 300 people here already - the night has barely started - and you can see not a single person who looks like an old man. You furrow your brow, squinting and pushing up on your toes to see if you can see anyone that you don’t vaguely recognize from somewhere or another.

“Lookin’ for someone?”

The voice is unmistakable.

“Peter!”

He says your name in what’s only a mildly offensive mockery of your tone. You abandon Wanda and throw yourself into the arms of the boy, ruffling his already unkempt hair and also smacking a loud kiss on his cheek. He chuckles, his arm winding around your waist as he says hello to both Wanda and Nat.

Apparently you’re in a hugging mood tonight.

“I’m glad you guys could all make it,” he smiles so sweetly that you kiss him again, his cheeks turning flaming red. Peter has always been like a little brother to you although he’s actually a year older. You both went to high school and college together, and it helps that your mother and his aunt are also really good friends.

Except you don’t know how anybody could want to be friends with your demon of a mother.

“We couldn’t miss this,” Wanda gestures around her, pinching Peter on the cheek like a child which makes him frown. “Where’s MJ, Petey?”

You all “ooh” like high schoolers and Peter’s face turns somehow even redder - your heart swells - and he takes this as his cue to leave, slipping away and mumbling something about having to greet guests like a good host. It makes you all giggle, watching the boy with fond eyes.

Wanda abruptly turns to you, downing the champagne that she picks up off of the tray of one of the passing waiters.

“So Nat told me that you’re looking for a sugar daddy-”

“Shhh!” you hiss at her, clamping your hands tightly over her mouth because oh my god, Wanda, please speak louder. This makes Natasha laugh into her own glass of champagne.“Oh my god, why are you yelling?”

“Okay,” she drags it out and rolls her eyes, leaning into your group of three and whispering exaggeratedly. “So I heard you’re looking for a sugar daddy.”

“Sure, okay,” you whisper back, looking around before standing up straight because it’s just occurred to you how sketchy you all must look huddled in a circle like this. “So like… how does this work? Do we just… go up to them? Is there like some kind of code-?”

Wanda snorts loudly, throwing her head back and laughing. Your face slips into a pout and you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, idiot,” Wanda replies, pulling a tube of lipstick and a mirror out of her clutch. She starts to apply it while speaking to you. “They’re here already, and we’ve just gotta go up to them,” she smacks her lips together with finality, “and tell them we’re interested. Or, more like you’re going up to them and we’re here for moral support.”

“What happened to your guy, Wanda?” Nat asks, signaling to the bartender for a refill.

“And how did you get into it?” you ask her, one eyebrow quirking.

She smiles conspiratorially and runs her hands carefully through her hair. “There’s an app. And Viz and I are still together-”

“Viz? ” you almost choke on your own spit because you laugh so hard. Natasha joins you in a far more respectful way, her shoulders shaking as she picks up her now-full glass. Getting literal daggers thrown at your face would’ve been less piercing than the look that Wanda’s giving you right now, so you decide to shut your mouth and listen.

“Yes,” she says your name condescendingly, which makes you roll your eyes. “His name is Vision - it’s a long, personal story that I won’t share with either of you because you both fucking suck,” she stares the two of you down, “but that’s his nickname and what everyone calls him. It’s kinda cool, you know: super contemporary. Like Madonna or Beyoncé or Cher-”

“Okay,” Natasha licks her lips, putting one of her hands on her hip. “We get it, Wanda, thanks. But you told us that you guys broke up-?”

“Yeah, we just took a break,” Wanda shrugs. “Now, we’re back together and better than ever.”

You and Nat share a look before blinking back at Wanda, nodding your heads compliantly.

“So,” you rock back on your heels and start snapping your hair tie again. “Are we gonna go do this, or?”

Wanda’s eyes drift down to your wrist before she places a hand on top of it, stilling your actions. Your eyes are wide and glossy, your teeth worrying your lip.

“What’re you nervous about?” Wanda begins quietly, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. “They’ll love you - they’re all super cool and really hot. I think that the only problem that you’ll have is that you’ll be spoilt for choice.”

Your laugh comes out watery but sincere nonetheless, so Wanda loops her arm through yours while Natasha grips your hand tightly.

“Maybe we should get you a drink-”

“No, Nat,” you inhale deeply. “I wanna be completely sober for this. After… after, yeah. I’m definitely gonna need a drink after.”

You all laugh while Wanda weaves you through swathes of socialites, stopping to say hello to some people. When you finally make your way all the way to the other end of the roof, you can see why you didn’t see them before. There is a set of stairs that lead down to what looks like a zen garden. Tall torches flame a collection of very comfortable-looking couches are placed around a stone firepit and on top of those couches are a group of some of the most handsome men that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first one to make eye contact with you is astoundingly attractive, so much so that you almost trip over your own feet. You know- you can just tell that he smells incredible. His mahogany skin shines in the light of the fire, and his full lips curve over a gap-toothed smile that he shoots your way; it immediately makes a smile of your own spread on your face. His beard is lined up to perfection and there’s a mischievous sparkle in his whiskey brown eyes. A little bit of his chest hair pokes out from underneath the top of his almost halfway-unbuttoned dress shirt and your mouth waters. You almost feel sorry for the slacks that are hugging his thighs sinfully tight because his powerful legs look like they’re about to burst through the seams.

You decide that you’ve never wanted to be a pair of pants so badly in your life.

Jesus Christ. These men aren’t even close to what I expected.

All you can say is that you’re glad to see that the same caliber of attractiveness holds up for the rest of them.

The man next to him has longer brunette hair that hits his shoulders and you just want to run your hands through the silky strands. He has a bit more of a rugged look, his facial hair groomed purposely to give off that energy. He’s wearing a tight, long-sleeve black shirt and black slacks too, the monochrome outfit highlighting every inch of his well-toned body. When you look at him, he’s staring down into his glass, the sweetest smile on his face that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. But then he looks up at you, and you’re taken aback by the vibrance of his steel-blue eyes. It stops your breath momentarily, and you have time to regain it when he taps the man next to him on the knee and points towards the three of you.

The man in question raises his head, face shielded partially by a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. His blonde hair is slicked back away from his face, and you take a second to admire his prominent bone structure. But he’s looking right past you, eyes boring holes into Wanda which makes you stop your ogling.

You assume that this must be Vision.

There’s one of the men who isn’t facing you and doesn’t even turn around to do so, but you can make out his extremely broad shoulders clad in a white t-shirt even from where you stand a distance away. Even the back of his head is attractive, his thick neck and pushed-back blonde hair. Wanda tugs on your arm impatiently, evidently eager to reach her man.

The three of you linked together almost fall down the stairs before you regain your collective composures and strut over there with all the confidence that you don’t feel. Wanda lets you and Nat go when you draw closer, fixing her hair before the brightest grin that you’ve ever seen on her face shines at Vision. He opens his arms to greet her and you have to look away because of the very much x-rated kiss that she plants on him: you feel like you’re intruding on something.

“Jesus,” Nat snorts in your ear, her hand still resting in yours. This makes you giggle, high-pitched and nervously, so Nat squeezes your hand before she pulls you forwards.

Wanda has situated herself in the lap of her man, his hand resting gently on her hip. She clears her throat, cheeks red from her public display of affection, and begins to speak.

“Hi, guys,” she says, waving and smiling at all the men politely. They all greet her back warmly, raising their hands too. “These are my best friends. This is Nat,” she gestures to the girl next to you and Nat just nods her head in acknowledgment.

“And this is the friend I told you about,” Wanda introduces you by name to the four men who she points at in turn: “Bunny, this is Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Vision, and Steve Rogers.”

Giving a little awkward wave of your hand, you unglue your eyes from the floor and scan all of the men up close now.

They’re all so much prettier up close.

From this distance, you can now clearly see how pretty Sam’s eyes are, how bright Bucky’s smile is, how strong Vision’s jaw is, and-

Holy shit.

It’s obvious that you must’ve died and gone to heaven some time in these past few minutes because Adonis’ blue eyes are scorching holes into your face. His high-neck white long sleeve sweater is probably in his size but the way that his muscles flex under the material is telling you otherwise. The size of his biceps - probably as big as your head - briefly make you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around your neck-

If you stare hard enough at his pecs - which you are - you can see the hard peaks of his nipples; you decide that there’s something so sensual about that and if that alone didn’t just make you wet, you decide that you can’t be human. The sweater is tucked into grey checkered pants with a black Yves Saint Laurent belt wrapped around his surprisingly narrow waist. He’s leaning back in his seat with his huge hands on his thighs, his strong legs spread wide almost an invitation for you to crawl between them. Your eyes move past his clearly tailored pants to his huge feet clad in black Versace loafers and you can feel the liquid that pools in your cunt. Realizing that you’re shamelessly checking this poor man out, your eyes snap up to his face only to have the breath completely knocked out of you, not for the first time tonight.

Not only is his body complete perfection, but his face is also arguably even better. His defined jawline gives you the urge to run your tongue over it but that beard. Your squeeze your thighs together because you want to know how it feels between your thighs. His ears are perfectly proportional to his head - a characteristic that should never be underestimated, mind you - and his cheekbones are high. But you can’t ignore the fullness nor the rosy pigmentation of his lips - his lower lip is fuller than the top and you wanna bite it so bad and he’s smirking a little. When you finally lock eyes with him, you feel as if you’re drowning but admittedly even if you were, you wouldn’t mind doing so in the blue of his irises. They darken slightly when they train onto yours, and one of his perfect eyebrows lifts questioningly.

This whole interaction has only lasted about five seconds but it feels like you’re in a movie, everything moving in slow motion. He stands up abruptly and you do actually choke at his size, his sheer height and width alone soaking your panties. One hand in his pocket, he takes slow, measured steps until he stands directly in front of you, not even sparing a glance at Natasha.

“Bunny, huh?” you pray that your knees won’t give out at his deep baritone and you can’t take your eyes away from his, even when he sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Steve Rogers.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​ @evnscvll​ @stargazingfangirl18​

[sophie-writings]

☁️ Synopsis: Bakugou just might have the biggest tiniest crush on you, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it to anyone — or even himself. Inspired by: “I won’t say (I’m in love)” from Hercules.

☁️ Character: Katsuki Bakugou 

☁️ Type: Scenario. Pure fluff and in denial Bakugou.

☁️ Warning: Light cursing. 

☁️ Note: This is the first long fic I’m doing for this blog, so i guess this is a especial moment? As promised, the Bnha x Disney songs is here! Kirishima’s next on the list, can you guess which song was chosen? Tip: lights.

"I'm not saying it!" Bakugou says, glaring daggers at his best friend before huffing and averting his gaze to the door he so desperately wanted to reach.

"Oh, c'mon Bakugou!" Insisted Kirishima, still blocking the blond's way. "You like her ever since that day."

That was undoubtedly true, even though Bakugou wouldn't admit it to himself or the others. 

You both first met on your first day at UA, and you were just another classmate he didn't really pay attention to. You tried to be friendly with Bakugou at first, just like you were with the rest of your classmates, but the explosive boy didn't seem to be open to the idea of friendships, so you eventually gave up. If you didn't cross his way — which you usually didn't, no words were exchanged.

But that changed with time, after the fateful day Bakugou was rescued from the league of villains.

You were never really close to him, but the guilt of not being able to help your fellow classmate was eating you inside out, especially because you were so close to grabbing his hand when he was taken. So you joined the rescue team alongside Kirishima and the rest. 

The smile you had on your face once he was safe and the hug he found himself unable to run away from made his heart beat faster than ever before.

"And you're terrible at hiding it too, dude." Teased Kaminari, who was the first to notice the sudden change in Bakugou's behavior whenever he was around you. “Why deny it?”

That too was true.

Bakugou found it harder than ever before to maintain his cool when you were around. It was like his already sweaty palms got sweatier whenever you got too close to him, he could feel his heart pound against his ribcage and wondered if his heartbeat as always been this loud and if people can hear it too. He found himself sighing more and getting lost in thought while staring at you.

It was like the stupid third-grade crush he had all over again, only that this time it didn't last a week. 

"I mean, how could he hide it? They're so pretty!" Chirped in Mina getting dangerously close to his face, but this time he couldn't even shove his pink friend away because his mind was wandering elsewhere.

You were really pretty, no one could go against that. 

You couldn't blame Bakugou for staring at you for a second too long. Who wouldn't? 

He eventually caught himself noticing small details he never did before.

Like the way your eyes twinkled when you ate your favorite meal during lunch, or how you would scrunch up your nose when eating sore candy. Sometimes he couldn't help but smile whenever your tongue would stick out of your mouth when you were doing difficult math exercises. Only to realize he's been smiling at you for the past thirty seconds and bury his face in his hands in frustration.

Oh God, he's really seeing you through rose-colored lenses and it was so obvious. 

"Just admit it." Now it was Sero's turn to intercept. "You got it bad." The raven-haired boy snickered and nudged his friend's side with his elbow, causing Bakugou to huff in annoyance.

"Okay, let's say I have this small interest on them — which I fucking don't!" He adds before the rest of the group could use it against him. "Why does it matter?" 

He really couldn't see what confessing his very minor interest in you would do. Okay, he might get really nervous when you're around, recognize your scent if you walk into a room, and even let you touch him more than anyone else without yelling or huffing, but so what? 

"You confess and tell them how you feel?" Kirishima said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, earning a "are you fucking serious?" look from Bakugou back. “Just give in, you’re in love!”

“Are you crazy? In love? Me?”

"Confess? Really Kirishima?" Mina asked, and pointed at Bakugou who was still staring at Kirishima as if he had grown a second head. "This guy can't even admit to himself he has a crush on them." "I don't-"

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. 

The sudden notifications coming from everyone's phone expect for Bakugou's was enough to stop the ensuing argument. The blond cursed under his breath while the rest checked their phone and cooed at whatever they were looking at.

"What the fuck is so damn interesting?" He asked crossing his arms and peering over Kirishima's shoulder.

His eyed widened once he caught a glance of the image and he snatched Kirishima's phone from his hand to get a better look at it.

He wished his eyes were deceiving him because there you were sitting next to a guy he has never seen before. The guy's arm was over your shoulder and you were smiling — the smile he really liked — to the camera.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" He literally spat. "Why didn't I get this picture?"

"Bakugou, you’d leave the group chat every time I tried to add you." Kaminari deadpanned. "They send pictures like this all the time." 

"You should've added me again then!" He snapped back before swiping to see the rest of the pictures you sent to the group chat.

You really sent a lot of them. Some smiling, others cutely pouting at the camera, and some with the other classmates. 

His eyes widened when he realized you sent a picture of you pouting and pointing to him in the background. The caption read "grumpy Bakugou won't join us for game night :(" He could feel his face get warmer after knowing you actually realized he was missing during the group activities. He swiped again and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw another picture of you and this mystery guy. 

"Okay, that's enough of staring for today." Kirishima said, taking his phone back from Bakugou's grasp. 

"Who's that guy?" Bakugou was enraged, there was no other way to describe it. Why did you have so many pictures with the same guy? Why has he never heard of him before? And why did he care so much?

"Take a chill pill dude." Kaminari sighed. "That's just her cousin, he visited one and everything, don't you remember? — oh you were sleeping." Kaminari words felt like annoying prickles to Bakugou and he was getting really tired of his friend's nuances.

"But you see that irritable feeling you had when you saw them with another person? That's called jealousy." Mina sang. "And if you don't confess soon, they'll find someone to actually date." 

"They wouldn't do that."

"Why not? They're single" She continued. "And not to mention, super attractive!" Added Sero. 

"Shit..." Bakugou muttered and sat down on Kirishima's bed.

He was in it deep, his friends were right. But having a crush this big was just something he never imagined would happen so soon in his hero-in-training life. He didn't want to be slowed down by things like love, but it's not like you would slow him down right? You were strong and capable, and maybe, just maybe, you could even help him reach new height, right?

Oh, there he goes again. He really can't stop his brain from making up scenarios in his head and finding an answer every time he comes up with a reason why he shouldn't have a crush on you. 

"Okay..." He whispered, loud enough for his friends to hear and stare down at him. "I might have a little crush on them." 

"I fuckING KNEW IT-" Kaminari couldn't even finish his sentence because Bakugou sent a pillow flying to his face, successfully throwing him off balance. 

The rest of the group simply ignored Kaminari's complaints and focused on Bakugou's speech.

"I... I don't want to see them with somebody else."

"Then confess! Tell them you like them." Cheered Mina.

"Do I really need to say it out loud?" He averts his gaze. Bakugou really wasn't the one to turn down a challenge, but the risk of rejection seemed too high to his liking.

"How else would you say it?" Asked Sero, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I don't know! This is my first time doing something like this, how am I supposed to know?!" He says in frustation, grabbing a handful of his hair. 

"First say it out loud! Just admit to yourself first." Said Kirishima, sitting next to his best friend while patting his back as a sort of comfort. He could realize that while he was really book smart and strategic, he was still emotionally dumb. "Just say it."

"Okay, whatever." He breathed in and out, before opening his eyes in determination. "I like — fuck, this is stupid."

"Just say it, OH MY GOD." Even chill Sero was losing his temper.

"OKAY FUCK I LIKE THEM OKAY?!" The whole room fell silent with Bakugou's sudden burst and his friends could only stare at him. They were used to Bakugou's outbursts of rage since they happened almost daily, but they rarely came accompanied by red blush across his cheeks. 

"Great!" Kirishima was the first one to break the silence as he got up and grabbed his best friend by the arm, pulling him up with him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Asks Bakugou once he's on his feet again. 

"Now you go out there and tell them that."

"Right now?! Are you crazy?" Bakugou backs up. Oh hell no, he couldn't confess yet. Just admitting it to himself and his close group os friends was too much for the day, he didn't know he could handle confessing to you right now. 

"Do you want someone else to beat you to it?" Asked Mina while typing away on her phone.

"Of course not, I said that alre-" Before he could end his sentence, Mina showed his her phone, which had a thread of texts between you and her, asking you to meet her outside in five minutes. "Then go Bakugou."

Bakugou cursed to himself before opening the door that led out of Kirishima's room. "You're all screwed when I get back." He states before slamming the door behind him.

"Your love muses will be waiting." Was the last thing he heard before starting this walk.

Bakugou mind races as he walks towards the spot he was supposed to meet you, opting to take the stair so he had more time to think. Admitting he had a crush on you to the world was hard enough, but confessing seemed like a whole ‘nother level. He couldn't help but think about all the possible negative outcomes that could come out of this decision. 

“Fuck... what am I doing?”

Maybe things were good as they were right? Sure, he couldn't hold your hand and kiss you like he has been picturing the past few days, but at least you talked to him and made the effort to be in his life. What if after he confessed his dumb feelings to you, you just straight up rejected him and things between both of you get awkward? How was he going to handle that?

"Bakugou?" 

The familiar voice was enough to pull him out of the trance-like state he was in. He was so deep in thought he didn't even realize that he had reached the meeting spot and you were there waiting already. 

Damn, did he make you wait? Maybe he should've taken the lift, I mean, summer's coming but it was still spring and maybe you're feeling cold. Oh shoot, you're staring at him, maybe he should answer right?

"Hey..."

You smiled realizing it was really Bakugou and what your eyes weren't playing games with you. Ever since you've realized that the admiration you felt towards Bakugou was only platonic and that you had a big fat crush on the hot-headed boy, every single attitude he had seemed to mean something more. His long stares, the way he would get nervous when you were around and the oh so light smile he would send your away would make your heart flutter and send you back to your room overthinking his actions. 

"I thought Mina was supposed to meet me here?" You asked, still glad it was the blond who came over to meet you. 

"Yeah..." Bakugou couldn't concentrate on the matter at hand. How could he when you looked so good just by standing there? You were already on your summer pajamas and he couldn't help but blush at the sight of the moon shining on your skin. " I actually need to tell you something."

"Ah, sure! I'm all ears" You tried your best to sound as confident as possible, but the truth is, doing so is hard when you have your crush standing in front of you. Everything about the situation screamed "cliche rom-com confession scene" to you and you didn't know if your increasing heartbeat was because you wanted it to be exactly that, or because you were afraid he was just going to ask for your English notes. 

"Look, this is my first time doing something like this, so if I fuck it up just bear with me for a second okay?" 

God, he must be sounding so stupid. So weak. So vulnerable. So not him.

But then again, this wasn't something he would normally do. Heck, his original plan was to graduate without even having the need to make friends or get into a relationship. He just wanted to be the best, but there he was. He had a small group of friends and was even considering bettering his relationship with Deku.

Nothing like that was ever part of his plans but they happened. And he sure as hell wasn't backing away now. 

"I think I like you, no fuck it, I do like you!" He said staring at you dead in the eyes. "I didn't want to admit it at first but the truth is that... ever since that day, you helped shitty hair and the others, I've felt a different way towards you, and if you don't feel the same way then-" "No."

"What?" Bakugou stopped on his tracks and he could feel all the air getting sucked from his lungs.

"Oh Gosh, that sounded really bad." You say panicking. "I meant, no don't say that because... I really like you too Bakugou!"

Everything about the situation felt unreal.

From the way his words left his mouth to the fact that you were hugging him at the moment, breathing in his caramel aroma, making you melt to his touch. All of those nights overthinking about his actions and imagining how things could go if only you had to courage to confess would cease to exist, and now you would actually live every single scenario you made up in your head.

Bakugou was only glad he listened to his friends and told you how he felt. Not that he would tell them that, he sure wouldn't. And he also wouldn't forgive the fact that they were spying on you at the moment, but he could deal with that later.

Now he wanted to find out if your lips were as sweet as he imagined.

[harrywritingsbyme]

2, 26, and 27 ;)

The one where Harrys being a mad and horny devil and younger!y/n is being a tease

Based off of this ask

Prompt List

2. “You wanna say that again?”

26. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

27. “Watch your mouth.”

A/N: Little bit of Dom!Harry, some Younger!Y/N, and it hasn’t been proofread🙃. Enjoy😋

Harry had been invited to dinner with Jeff and a few higher ups from his label. So naturally he insisted that you went with him. You absolutely hated these dinners just as much as Harry did, but you sucked it up and decided to go for Harry. The only thing that made it slightly better was the fact that there was food, and even then, it wasn’t enough to make you enjoy yourself. Not to mention the fact that you had only one thing in common with everyone at the table, that being Harry. Besides that, you had zero common ground. On top of that, you were the youngest person at the table. You were even younger than Harry by a few years.

Now it wasn’t so crazy where it would be completely wrong on every possible level, but just enough to make Harry feel the need to protect you and scowl at every male or female who looked at you in a way that made him uncomfortable; even more than a boyfriend normally would. Even though you were also in your 20’s and were very much capable of taking care of yourself. Despite this fact, Harry never failed to bring the slight age gap up in every activity of your daily lives. Never in a demeaning way, but more of a joking/‘I’m older and wiser, and you should listen to me’ type of way.

Somehow this control Harry took at times also translated into the bedroom. And it worked, very well.

You absolutely loved it when Harry took control and just ravished you any way he wanted (of course establishing boundaries and limits way beforehand). Now this didn’t at all mean that you didn’t love it when he took his time and practically worshiped your body. You could practically burst just thinking about those moments. It also didn’t mean that you haven’t taken control in the bedroom either. You have and you throughly enjoyed watching Harry beg for you to let him cum, it gave him a taste of his own medicine. Plus, it was so hot to see him beg for you. You loved the rush it gave you to have Harry restrained against the bed, waiting for your next move, hoping you’d let him release. But if you had to choose between being in control or being under his control, you choose the latter any day. It was just something about calling him daddy and following his orders that sent you off the rails.

It not only made you go crazy, but it also made Harry almost lose his mind in some cases. He loved watching you follow his orders, getting on your knees in front of him just from a single look. Or simply bending over the arm of the couch without him having to tell you when you know you misbehaved. He couldn’t get enough of you. He loved how you were down for almost anything (some things were just too much for you, even for Harry). How you were filthy when it’s just the two of you, but when you were with other people, you switched to your sweet, innocent self. Even when you were with others, how you still managed to bring out that side of you that only he had the privilege of seeing could make him crazy. And it did. You riled him up so much that that there were numerous times where he had to drag you both to the bathroom and take care of his swollen cock.

Whether it was you calling him daddy in his ear, or your soft hand undoing his pants underneath the table. Even you giving him a soft kiss on the cheek every once in a while at different functions got him worked up. Just like tonight. Except this time he was a bit more frustrated than usual. Thanks to you of course.

Now there were many reasons to his frustration. The first being that the nonstop sex you guys were having was brought to an abrupt end. See, you had just gotten back home from a business trip that took you away for about a week. So you and Harry were in a sense trying to make up for lost time, and then some. So you decided to take two days off to spend with Harry. But as the time went on, two turned into three and now four. The two of you didn’t leave the house for almost four days.

Your routine turned into this:

Wake up, have a good first round of morning sex, get in the shower, have another round of sex in the shower, cuddle up in the bed or on the couch and watch whatever you could find on Netflix, have sex again on the couch or in bed, cook dinner together, eat dinner, then end the night off with a ‘final’ round of sex.

“We’re running low on supplies” you mumble bending over to look into the nearly empty fridge. Out of the blue, Harry strolls into the kitchen and finds you bent over the fridge. He seized the opportunity and he delivers a heavy swat to your ass. “Harry!!” You screech, coming up from your previous position to face him. “That hurt” you pout, rubbing over the stinging spot on your backside.

“Need daddy t’make yeh feel better?” He rasps, pulling your into his chest. His arms wrap around you and his hands go straight to your ass, kneading the supple flesh in his large hands.

“No, I need food” you huff, deciding to not indulge him any further. Harry has other plans though. He guides you over to the kitchen island and before you have a chance to rebuke him, you’re already being hoisted onto the counter.

“I already have something I want to eat” he spreads your legs and attaches his lips to your neck.

“No” you close your legs, trying to stop Harry from continuing. You do this only for him to spread your legs again. Which leads you to snap your legs shut. The both of you continue in this pattern for a little longer until you push him away completely.

“Baby” he slumps, pouting in your direction.

“We can have sex when I get back home.” You keep your hands on his shoulders and you hop off of the counter. You make your way to the front door with a now mopey Harry training behind you.

“Not even a taste. Y’not going to let daddy have a taste?” He tries to coax you into letting him have his way

“I’m not going to be long” you chuckle at his eagerness. You shrug on your coat and you slip on your worn out sneakers. “I have no idea how you survive on tour. Your like a horny teenager” you tease grabbing your purse and keys.

“Well first of all, I’m a grown man. Older than you to be exact. Second, it’s easier on tour because you’re not around.” He states matter of factly. You roll your eyes at his comments and you make your way out of the door.

“So you’re blaming your horniness on me now?”

“Yes, yes I am.” He reply’s curtly. You turn around and you press a quick peck to his pillow soft lips.

“Love you” you mumble against his lips.

“Love you too” he sighs giving your hips a slight squeeze. Before he can even try to deepen the kiss, you pull away from him and you make your way to your car. You hop in and you back out of your parking space, leaving Harry leaning against the door looking soft and cute, yet utterly fuckable. During your entire ride to the grocery store, the image of a needy Harry lingered in your head.

When you make it to the store, you dash inside, wanting to get in and get out so you could go home. As you’re walking into the next aisle, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out to see that it’s a text from Harry.

Harry: A few people from the label invited us out to dinner. Want to go?

You thought it would be good to get out of the house for the night instead of watching Netflix in bed.

Y/N: Sure! I’ll be home soon.

You throw your phone into your bag and you zoom around the store grabbing the last items you had on your list. You surprisingly make it through checkout fairly quickly and you make your way back home. With the help of Harry you manage to get everything put away in enough time for you to get ready.

“Y’want me to hop in with you. Save time and water?” Harry rations. But you don’t fall for it at all.

“If we get in this shower together, we won’t make it out of the house.” you shoot down his proposal, leaving him alone in the bedroom. You take a quick shower and you rummage through your closet for something to wear.

“Y’should wear this” Harry leans against the door to your closet with a hanger dangling from his finger. The dress on the hanger was in no way appropriate for the event what so ever. It was the dress that never failed to make Harry want to drag you away from any party.

“Absolutely not.” You grab the hanger from him and you put it back where it belonged. You eventually settle on a simple dress that you could just throw on. You’re surprisingly able to finish getting ready with a few minuets to spare; mainly due to the fact that you made Harry go downstairs and wait for you. When you come down the stairs, you see Harry sitting on the couch mindlessly looking at his phone. The clicking of your heels against the floor, causes his attention to shift over to you.

“Now if you don’t let me bend you over the arm of this couch, it would be so cruel” he pleads with you.

“As soon as we get home I’m all yours.” you wrap your arms around his neck and his circle around your waist.

“You better be. Gimme a kiss” he puckers his lips and you give him a few kisses.

“Let’s go, don’t want to be late” you smooth your hands over the lapels of his jacket. You give him one last kiss on the cheek and you pull away from him. You grab your jacket from it’s hook by the door and the two of you make your way out to dinner.

The dinner goes the way it always does. You sitting next to Harry, not talking much while he talks to everyone else about his upcoming projects. The dinner surprisingly goes by faster than usual. You and Harry having your own little conversations away from everyone else at the table helped when it came to passing the time. You were impressed at how Harry was able to contain all of the pent up sexual frustration from the day. Well, you were impressed at first.

Now to add onto his sexual frustration, you were starting to frustrate Harry. While everyone was ordering desert, Harry decided to settle on a cup of tea. This opened up a big can of worms that you were going to have to pay for.

“How do you deal with an old man like him?” One of his colleagues jokes, directing the question at you. You thought it was the perfect Opportunity tease Harry a little, and get in on the conversation.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that hard dealing with old man styles over here” you begin turning towards him with a smirk across your face. You look over at him and you see an unamused expression spread across his face. “Aww, is my old man mad” you laugh and you lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth, but he pulls away from you. Causing you and the entire table to erupt with laughter.

“You’re a grumpy old guy” You turn your attention from the conversation over to Harry who’s sitting quietly next to you.

“You wanna say that again?” He grits through his teeth, planting a firm grip onto your exposed thigh under the table.

“Say what, that you’re a grumpy old man” you continue to tease, deciding to let Harry see how it felt.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because I suggest that you watch your mouth” he leans closer to your face. You roll your eyes at him and you see his eyes darken. Not only was he rock hard from the entire day, but he was also irritated by you. It wasn’t what you said that frustrated him, it was the fact that you weren’t listening to him at all.

“I’m not a little girl, and you can’t tell me what to do” you decide to stand your ground.

“Your mine, and I’d shut up if I were you, you’re already in hot water.” Harry growls lowly at you.

“Make me” and that’s what completely threw Harry over the edge. He takes a deep breath and he leans over to you, his breath fanning over your skin.

“I want you to go into the bathroom and wait for me. Right now.” You freeze in place and you realize that you were in some trouble. You excuse yourself from the table and you do as Harry told you. You wait for about five minuets, which seems like forever when you are awaiting a punishment. Harry bursts through the door and locks it behind him. He strolls over to you and traps your body between his and the counter behind you.

“Y’think you could just talk t’me like that and not get punished?” He asks you, gripping onto your chin go look at him. You shake your head no through his grip. “Use your words” he says sharply.

“No” you whisper through your shaky breath.

“Get on your knees” he instructs. You follow his orders and you kneel in front of him. He begins to undo his pants. He pushes his pants down his legs and his cock springs to life. It looks like he could just burst. His cock was an angry reddish purple color. You could see a bead of precum coming from his engorged head. He grips his cock and he jerks himself a few times before pulling your head back. He lines his cock up with your mouth and he maintains eye contact with you. Keeping his eyes on you, he pushes his cock past your lips.

“Fuck” he growls down at you. He gains a firm grip onto the back of your head and he wastes no time in thrusting into your mouth. You feel his cock going all the way down your throat. The head of him going so deep that you gag around him. “Old man? Couldn’t fuck this pretty mouth if it was baby” he pants, continuing to thrust into you. Your hand moves up to his thigh, squeezing him so that you could stay in place. All you could hear were the wet sounds of Harrys cock pistoning into your mouth and the pants leaving his mouth. You swallow around him, causing your throat to tighten up, resulting in you squeezing his cock. “M’gonna cum” Harry growls, continuing to thrust into your mouth. You move your hand from his thigh to his balls and go squeeze them in your hand. All of a sudden, Harry presses your head into him, stilling his hips, feeling his release coming. Then you feel spurts if his cum pouring into your mouth. He shoots rope after rope of his cum down your throat, finally getting the release he’d been in need of all day. He catches his breath and pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at your kneeling figure and a big smirk spreads across his face when he sees your smeared lipstick and watery eyes. He tucks himself back onto his pants and fixes his appearance in the mirror above you.

“Maybe that’ll make you think twice before talking back” he whispers, looking into your watery eyes. He notices a drop of his cum gathering in the corner of your mouth, and he swipes his thumb across the area, collecting it onto his finger. You part your lips for him, but he pushes it past his own instead. Your face falls, causing him to chuckle at your reaction before opening the door. “Don’t take too long in here” he says walking out of the bathroom as if nothing ever happened, leaving you alone on your knees on the floor.

Masterlist

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 24: Three Shots Fired

((Marvin provides a distraction so Abe and Jackie can get into the studio undetected, Abe to find Wilford, Jackie to find his friends. This plan turns out to be terrible on every level.

Warning: Shooting/someone shown getting shot, no gore/details. I promise this warning will only show up one more time in this series. This is also probably the longest part in the series so far.

And here are links to the masterlist for the series and to Part 23.))

Any hopes Abe had of getting any answers out of Marvin or this other guy in the red hoodie on the drive to the studio were crushed, because once the magician was sure he knew where to go, he didn’t have another word to say to the hunter. In fact, as Abe pulled out onto the street and started driving, he asked again, “How do you two know Wilford? And why do you think he’s at this TV studio?” only to be met with silence.

Abe slowed at the red light and glanced in the rearview mirror, where he saw the two of them clearly talking in the backseat, but in the driver’s seat he couldn’t hear a single word of it. Apparently, they couldn’t hear him either, or were too busy arguing to notice.

Great. As if this whole situation wasn’t suspicious enough. Marvin might as well have held up a giant sign saying they were keeping something from him, and knowing that the magician could throw the whole “hired to stalk one of his friends for a shady client” thing back into his face didn’t make it any better.

“Why are we taking him?” Jackie asked, his eyes darting toward the hunter in the front seat. “Wasn’t the whole plan to keep him away from Y/N until we figured out what his deal is?”

“I think his deal is that he’s just an idiot,” Marvin answered. He had tossed up the silence spell as soon as the car started moving, because he suspected Jackie wouldn’t be able to keep from saying something. “And we need to get there as fast as we can, without drawing too much attention. We don’t know what we’re walking into, here.”

“Which is why we shouldn’t be bringing him! I can get there faster on my own, and don’t you have some kind of teleportation spell?”

“Sure, and we can set off every alarm in the place and never make it inside to find the others. You think a place like that doesn’t have security of their own?” Marvin asked. “Why isn’t Chase picking up his phone?!”

“I don’t know, it just keeps going straight to voicemail, and JJ’s not answering any of my texts either,” Jackie said, glancing down at his phone again. “I thought going to the studio was supposed to be safe!”

“How were we supposed to know the Colonel would be there?” Marvin rubbed his eyes, causing his shades to rise up before falling back into place on his nose. “I should have brought my mask, I just didn’t think…But if they’re stuck on a tour, then maybe they haven’t had a chance to run into him yet, if he even is there. From the way the hunter talks, it’s not like he hangs around anywhere for very long.”

“Even if we do get them out before they run into the Colonel, we still have to deal with him,” Jackie said, tilting his head in the direction of the front of the car. “I don’t trust him, and a public building where we already know one murderer might be walking around isn’t exactly the place I want to find out whether I’m right or not. He doesn’t know about Y/N, does he?”

“Of course not! But it’s not like we can hide them from him if he’s…hm.” Marvin paused, and despite his covered eyes, Jackie could see the gears turning in his mind before he said. “Then again, maybe he can be useful.”

Marvin heard Jackie’s noise at the suggestion and turned toward him as he continued, “No, listen. We can’t just go in there, guns blazing, but I also don’t think we’re going to get anywhere at the front desk without just being told to wait for the tour to end. I can give you two an opening to get in, and something to help you track down the others.”

Marvin reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a gold coin, before a twist of his fingers revealed him to be holding two coins.

“One for you, one for the hunter. I enchant them both with basic location spells, but while yours leads you to the others, his is focused on the Colonel, on Wilford. You can get them out of there, while he can have it out with Wilford like he wants without ever knowing Y/N’s there.”

And if he happened to take care of one of the men responsible for what happened to you in the process, then Marvin was completely fine with that.

“And if they’re all in the same place?” Jackie asked.

Marvin shrugged. “Then it’s already a disaster and you’ll just have to do the best you can until I can follow behind. Teleporting out will be a lot easier than getting in. Either way, we’re not going to have a repeat of what happened to Y/N the last time those two were together. Deal?”

Jackie hesitated and then nodded, determination settling in as he said, “Deal.”

Marvin snapped his fingers, dispelling the silence before he said, “Abe.”

“Oh, am I allowed to join in now?” Abe asked sarcastically. “Or are you just checking in to make sure your driver hasn’t made a wrong turn?”

Marvin chose to ignore that and explained to Abe about the coins, or at least what the one he was going to get would do.

“It’ll be kind of like a hot or cold thing,” Marvin said. “Coin gets warmer the closer you are to the person you’re looking for, as long as you’re focused on them. Not very sophisticated and doesn’t work when they’re too far away, but it’s fast to create and should work for this.”

“And what will you be doing?” Abe asked as he took the next turn. They were getting close to the studio now, and he still had no reason to trust either of these guys. “While I’m playing hot or cold with a chocolate coin?”

“This isn’t—” Marvin paused to sniff the coin to be sure and continued, “It’s not chocolate! And I’ll be providing the distraction, while Jackie will be…Look, we have friends in there we’d rather keep safe. You do your thing, and we’ll take care of ours. Deal?”

Abe frowned. One hell of a coincidence, their friends being in the studio where Wilford supposedly might be. Then again, Marvin had seemed genuinely surprised to learn the Colonel and Wilford were one and the same person, and the truth spell back in the coffee shop made it feel like that kind of thing would be hard to fake.

“Wait, the truth spell,” Abe said, glancing over his shoulder at the magician. “Did you get rid of that before we left?”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Marvin said quickly, and slowly breathed out when the car returned to its lane before he answered, “It wasn’t designed to last long. Should be fine, as long as no troubled couples got into the booth right after we left…Nothing that a little therapy couldn’t work out, anyways. And if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. Just drop us off outside the studio and keep driving.”

It would certainly make things easier, to the point Marvin was almost a little disappointed when Abe shook his head and said, “No, if there’s even a chance that man’s there, then I’m going in. You two do whatever you need to, and we’ll stay out of each other’s way.”

Marvin nodded and settled back into his seat, where he focused his attention on the two coins that he held in either palm. It was a simple spell, but he did need to concentrate if he wanted to have them ready by the time they reached the studio.

Still driving, Abe could feel the stare of the other man on the back of his head, and when he glanced into the mirror, he could see Jackie’s icy glare, his mouth turned down as if watching someone who just kicked a dog winding up to push a little old lady over in the middle of the street. Who was this guy, and why was he looking at Abe like that? Usually, the hunter could figure out what he had done or said to get that kind of hate directed his way, but as far as he knew the two of them hadn’t so much as shared a word yet. He would have blamed it on whatever Marvin told them about their conversation behind that spell of his, but he was pretty sure Jackie had been ready to throw hands the second he stepped out of the coffee shop.

Except there was that red hoodie of his, and with a sinking sensation Abe remembered the photos he showed Google, accusing him of being the red blur just barely caught on film. A blur that showed up outside of the clinic, very much like the man wearing red Abe thought he saw when he was talking to Jackson. Add in that the magician had thought he was responsible for what happened to the Host, and the doctor knowing he was being watched, and…

Marvin’s idea to split up was looking better and better by the second.

Abe found a parking spot on the street and heard, as he got out of the car, Jackie murmur to Marvin, “There’s his car. They’re still here.”

The magician nodded, looking grimly determined as he tossed Abe and Jackie their coins. “Keep these in your hand, and once you’re in the building, just focus on who you’re looking for. It works best if you have a clear image of one person in mind, which shouldn’t be a problem for you, hunter. Jackie, you’ll probably want to focus on Chase since you’ve known him the longest.”

Abe glanced down at the coin, taking in the ornate carving and what looked like an eye on one side and a bird of some kind on the other. “What kind of coin is this?”

Marvin shrugged. “Fairy gold, I think? The cheap kind that’s given to mortals to get rid of them and disappears after an hour or two.”

He paused at their expressions and added, “You know, get rid of in a general sense. Not, like, specifically, in this case.”

Jackie looked at his coin again and said, “This kind of looks like a doubloon, you know, the kind you’d find in pirates’ treasure?”

“Could be that too. You meet all kinds in the Other Realms, and they all kind of suck at cards, which…” Marvin patted himself down, muttering under his breath about everyone telling him to leave his working stuff at home and make a good impression, until he pulled out a pack of cards. “Right! Let me go in first, looks like there’s just a receptionist, so once she’s distracted you two can slip right in to the elevators.”

“Oh god,” Jackie murmured, realization dawning as he recognized the cards. “You’re not going to try to do that trick again, are you?”

“…The pick my card one, or the one that involves the flash powder?” Marvin asked.

“They’re both terrible! You can use real magic, why do you—”

“Shush, and watch a professional,” Marvin said, pressing a finger to Jackie’s lips before turning and walking through the glass doors of the studio.

“Oh no,” Jackie muttered again as the magician sauntered up to the front desk and leaned casually against it, flipping his hair out of his face before he started talking. From here, they could only see the young woman’s surprise turn into a bemused smile as Marvin began laying out the cards on the counter. “He’s flirting.”

“Is he that bad at it?” Abe asked.

“I don’t know, it just makes it that much sadder when he—” Jackie stopped with a sigh as the entire deck of cards scattered up into the air and began slowly drifting down, only for the first card to hit the floor with a flash and a bang that made the poor receptionist shriek, not helped when Marvin pulled her under the desk as the rest of the cards began to go off as they hit the ground. “Come on, before security gets here!”

Jackie grabbed Abe’s arm and ran inside, easily dodging the drifting cards but leaving the hunter to try and keep up on his own. By the time they reached the elevators, out of sight of the front desk, Abe was swearing and beating out a small flame on one of his sleeves.

“What the hell kind of distraction was that? Is he trying to let the whole building know we’re here?” Abe asked, but Jackie wasn’t listening.

“Still got your coin? Great, you can take one of the elevators, I’ll take the stairs,” Jackie said, pushing him inside of the opening doors after having already hit the call button.

“Wait, how am I supposed to use the coin in here?” Abe asked. “I don’t know which floor—”

But this was the perfect opportunity to ditch the hunter, and Jackie’s answer was to reach inside and run a hand over the buttons, lighting up as many as he could in one go before stepping out of the way of the closing doors. “Focus, and get out when the coin turns warm. From there it’s on you, so good luck with that, hunter.”

Jackie had to admit, it felt good to see the indignation on Abe’s face before the doors slid shut, but he didn’t have a lot of time to enjoy it. From the sound of it, the last of the cards were drifting down, and when he darted into the stairwell, he looked back in time to see Marvin backing toward the front doors, his hands held up in defense as his apologies were drowned out by the receptionist’s review of his performance.

He locked eyes with the magician and raised his phone, Marvin giving a subtle nod of understanding before Jackie began running up the stairs. On his side, Marvin had the phones he had retrieved from the bin behind the desk while the receptionist had been distracted, both of which he recognized as Chase’s and Jameson’s. Said receptionist who was now pulling off her shoe in a way that suggested he should probably go now.

Once outside and with maybe a block or two between him and the very angry young lady, Marvin could stop and take a breath before considering how he would get himself into the building if they needed an out.

“Should’ve brought the mask,” he muttered, already aware of the cracks forming in his shades as the spells built into them began to wear thin. Once those were gone, any hope of being “subtle” about this (not that there was much of one to begin with) went out the window. “Or the dagger, or the marbles, or the wind-up mouse, but no, it might look bad, Marvin.”

But the “I told you so” would have to wait until later, when he had the right audience for it. For now, Marvin made his way back toward the studio, careful to keep his distance as he watched the security guards trying to calm down the receptionist.

As he watched, they leaned over the counter and pulled up something on the computer. Marvin hissed, realizing that they must have cameras around here, just as one of the guards picked up a nearby phone and called someone before nodding to the other guard who went in the direction of the elevators.

Great. Hopefully Jackie and Abe were still moving, but Marvin couldn’t exactly wait around for a call. He squinted, and had to move closer to get the details from the guard standing at the desk, but once he was sure he reached up and rubbed the charm hanging from his left ear between his thumb and index finger until the illusion spell in it took hold.

Marvin opened the lobby door and walked in, passing by the receptionist and guard without slowing down or making eye contact. The guard glanced at him and then turned his attention back to the receptionist, who was saying something about how “that thing” creeped her out, sure in his own mind that he had just seen one of the other guards walk by. Not enough to answer if someone asked who exactly he had seen, just someone in the right kind of uniform with a face more or less like someone he had seen around probably.

The point was to act confident and keep moving, not to give anyone the chance to think about him twice or ask him any questions. To look like he knew where he was going, although when Marvin stepped into the elevator, he knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth. As soon as the doors closed, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Jackie, hoping that he had managed to get somewhere in those few minutes.

Only to freeze when he heard the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building above.

Jackie had moved quickly, only pausing at the door of each floor to give enough time to make sure the coin hadn’t grown any warmer before running up the next flight of stairs. Keeping his focus on Chase was a lot harder than he expected it to be, with everything else going on, and he was starting to wonder if he was doing this right when he felt the heat start to spread out from the coin. He ran up to the next floor to be sure, only for the coin to immediately grow colder once he was just five steps away.

Jackie went back down and pushed open the door, listening for any sound or sign of anyone else, but the hallways were empty. He had lost count of the floors a while ago, but a sign across from the elevator proclaimed this floor to be part of Studio 5, whatever that meant. He glanced back at the elevator as it dinged open, but there was no sign of the hunter inside before it continued its way up, so it looked like Abe had either found where Wilford was hiding at or had been caught.

Either option worked for Jackie, really, and he trained his focus back on Chase as he kept close to the walls. By the time he reached the room with the recording light lit up above it and the glass window that looked into the small studio, the coin was practically burning in his hand, but the second he looked in and his concentration broke, it went as cold as the chill at the back of his mind.

Jameson and Chase were sitting at a table, arguing with two identical twins with a set of microphones between them, but there was no sign of you or anyone else in the room, not even when he leaned to get a better look at the corner near the door. Desperately, he knocked on the window, too thick for them to hear even when he shouted their names, and then yanked open the door.

Ignoring the protests of the other two men, Jackie asked, “Where’s Y/N?” and the coin in his hand became freezing cold.

---

When Abe stepped out of the elevator, a large sign pointed him in the direction of Studio 3, but the coin in his hand led him in the opposite direction until he finally found himself standing outside of a door with a star on it. The paint used to write the name “Wilford Warfstache” on it still looked fresh.

The hunter pocketed the hot coin and pulled out his gun. Still loaded with the five silver bullets, he turned off the safety and took a breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came an all too familiar singsong voice inside.

It was all the invitation Abe needed.

He slammed the door open and raised his gun as he said, “Don’t move!”

“Hm? Well, I wasn’t really planning on it, but now I kind of want to,” answered the man sprawled out on a couch on the opposite side of a room that was such an eyesore of colors that Abe thought he could be forgiven for not immediately being able to pick Wilford out of the madness. The couch itself was a vibrant pink to match his mustache, as was the dressing table and mirror and the low end table between the two of them, the walls a bright cheery yellow, and the round rug that covered most of the floor was a spiral of pink and yellow. In the corner there was a yellow wardrobe with a carefully painted pink mustache on its front. Did this room used to belong to a clown or something?”

“Oh, the decorations? Do you like them? I picked them out myself,” Wilford said, leaning forward only to tilt his head when Abe made an incoherent shout. “You sure are jumpy, uh…Hold on, I know this one, it’s…Dave?”

Wilford pointed at Abe, his eyebrows raised and waiting for some kind of confirmation that didn’t come.

“Okay, not Dave. It’s never Dave, is it? Bim? No, Bim’s the other guy, the fluffy one…Steve? Dave?”

Wilford rattled off names, but Abe could only stare at him in disbelief before he had to shut him up.

“You know who I am! You shot me in the chest!”

“Now, that could be quite a lot of people,” Wilford said.

“You killed my partner, you killed my friend, you—” Abe sputtered, not sure why he was even doing this even as he exclaimed, “You killed so many people!”

“Well, yes, but you see—” Wilford bounced up onto his feet, only to pause and halfway raise his hands when Abe raised his gun again. Something about seeing the hunter ready to pull the trigger must have stirred something in his memory, because his eyes suddenly lit up and he said, “Abe! Abe. How have you been? I was just talking about you earlier with…who was it?”

“How have I—How do you think I’ve been?!” Abe moved into the room, using the heel of his foot to slam the door behind him. Not that it mattered, because he had no intention of letting anyone stop him now. “I’ve been looking for you, ever since that party. Ever since you…Ever since you destroyed everything!”

“Now, that seems like a bit of an exaggeration,” Wilford protested.

“An exaggeration? You killed your best friend, because of you the woman you loved and her brother, your other best friend, are both dead too, you tried to kill me, you killed Y/N—and then you think you can just walk away from all that, like nothing even happened?!” Abe’s grip was tightening on the gun, his finger close to pulling the trigger as tears began to sting the corner of his eyes, but he wanted to hear him say it, wanted to hear him admit to what he had done after all these years. Even if Abe was the only one to hear it, he needed this.

“I’m not sure you have the full story here,” Wilford started, only to pause when Abe pulled the trigger and nothing happened.

“That was just a warning,” Abe muttered as he pulled back the hammer on the gun. Internally though, he was cursing the luck that the one chamber that was empty happened to be the first one when he had a perfect shot lined up. “You really should stop talking.”

“Well, which is it that you want, for me to stop talking or to answer you? I’m getting some mixed signals here! And while it’s true that, in a sense, I may have done some terrible things, I never actually—”

Wilford ducked and pulled out his own gun when the hunter’s second attempt missed, but he just gestured wildly with it as he said, “Yes, I have one of those too, but if you would just listen to me, I think you might want to hear what I have to say!”

His eyes darted to the left as he considered his words and added, “Possibly. I’m starting to think you might just want to shoot me.”

“Really? What would you give that idea?” Abe asked sarcastically as he cocked the hammer again and aimed at Wilford’s face, determined that he wouldn’t waste this third chance. “You’re right. I don’t want excuses. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I just want you dead.”

He pulled the trigger, but at the last possible second someone grabbed his wrist and threw off his aim. Abe hadn’t heard the door open behind him, partially because firing a gun in this small a space had temporarily wrecked his hearing, but he did hear his name being shouted as the last person he ever expected to see again stepped between him and Wilford.

“Abe! Stop! Just stop!”

“…Y/N?”

You were out of breath, but he sounded as breathless as you as the forgotten gun slipped out of his hand and hit the ground. At the noise, he suddenly realized how very close he came to shooting you when you did that. When you stopped the hunter from shooting him, but why? How could you do something so stupid, so reckless, so, so—

“What…? How…?” Abe struggled for words, his anger and concern fighting it out with confusion taking a chair to both of them, but you just shook your head.

“You need to hide, Google—” You froze, aware of the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and after a quick look around the room pushed Abe into a nearby wardrobe and shut the door on him, hissing, “Keep quiet!”

Abe started to protest, but he heard you turn and lean up against the wardrobe door just as the door to the dressing room opened and a voice he recognized spoke.

“Gunshots have been fired in this room,” Google said, staring around before focusing on you in the corner, and then turning back to Wilford when he shrugged and answered.

“It happens. Why, just earlier I—” Wilford gestured with his gun and Abe had to bite his fist to keep from crying out when he heard the shot and the silence before he said, “Sorry about that, Googs.”

“It’s…fine,” Google said, although his tone suggested otherwise. Outside the wardrobe, you and Wilford watched as the magitek unit wiped the splash left by the wax bullet off of his cheek with a noise of disgust before he said, “I am looking for unauthorized intruders in the building. One is currently unidentified, while the other matches my files for a hunter by the name of Abe Lincoln.”

That made Abe pause. Why would a TV studio have a record on him? Wasn’t like he had ever been here before, and from the little he knew of DE Studios they were more likely to hire the monster than a hunter. He wanted nothing more than to push open the wardrobe door just a crack, just enough to see what color shirt this Google unit was wearing, but you were leaning so hard against it that he couldn’t even hope for some fresh air to counter the smell of mothballs in Wilford’s catastrophe of a closet. What was the large fuzzy thing against his leg? It didn’t just move, did it?”

“Good for you,” Wilford answered cheerfully. “It’s good to have a hobby.”

“Looking for intruders is not…” Google paused and then decided to ask you instead, “Have you seen either of these men? They must be dealt with using the full extent of my abilities to handle such pests.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you pointed out.

“…But it is the ideal option, and therefore the most logical one to take,” Google answered, making you wonder what was included in his definition of “ideal.” “I will repeat the question, have you seen these men?”

“Sorry, Google, I think you’ll have to look somewhere else.”

Google considered you for a moment before saying, “Based on my records, this would be the ideal location to find the intruder, although it is possible that he managed to get himself lost. Humans have a tendency to need…direction.”

“Nah, getting lost is half the fun, Google,” Wilford said. “You should try it some time. Right now, even.”

“I am incapable of getting lost, and such distractions are unnecessary at this time,” Google answered. “I am going to continue my search now.”

“Good luck,” Wilford called after him before he shut the door and remarked to you, “You know, sometimes I think that guy is a little—”

He paused as Abe fell out of the wardrobe, wildly kicking back what turned out to be, in the light, a large, pink afro. The hunter froze, unable to explain why that had seemed so much scarier in the wardrobe, but then he had more important things to worry about than his pride when his eyes refocused on you and the questions he just couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around yet.

“Y/N. You’re…”

Here. Alive. Real.

And shaking, your arms wrapped around your chest but not quite able to hide the tremors running up and down your body.

“Are you okay?” Abe asked, his mind immediately jumping to the worst. When he fired before, he hadn’t…? But there’d be a sign, they couldn’t hide it if the bullet had…For a moment, Abe thought he was going to be sick himself.

“There’s too much…Just, just give me a second,” you said, taking a step back and clenching your eyes shut. If you could just shut it all out for a second, just have a chance to catch your breath for once in what felt like forever, but you couldn’t do it. After seeing what had become of Damien and Celine, of having all of that rage and anger turn into fear and adrenaline as you raced down the stairs, following the sounds of gunshots while being terrified what you might find, running in to find Abe and Wilford with guns drawn, reliving the worst moment of your life again even if it didn’t turn out like that, it was no wonder you felt like your chest was trying to cave in along with the rest of the world. The corners of your eyes were burning, but more terrifying was the feeling that at any second…Why was it so hard to even breathe?

Abe stared, but then it wasn’t like he could take his eyes off of you. He could see the lines of your face, your shoulders and spine, shifting back and forth like you were trying to hold yourself in place. Like you were trying not to transform right here and now. More than that, you looked—afraid? Sad?

Alone.

Abe became aware of Wilford wildly gesturing to get his attention before making a gesture, and the hunter felt a brief surge of the same rage that had taken him just minutes before. What the hell did he think he was doing? Wilford shook his head and gestured again, before finally resorting to mouthing the words as large as possible without making a sound. Even then, Abe hesitated, unsure if it was because he didn’t want to take that kind of advice from him, or because he wanted so much to do it that it was almost terrifying.

Either way, it didn’t take long to give in and move closer to you.

You flinched backwards out of reflex, but Abe said, “It’s just me, Y/N. It’s just…”

He struggled for what to say before just pulling you into a hug. Something he’d never got the chance to do before it all went wrong. You pressed your face into his chest, focusing on the smell you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d miss in that life. Holding you, Abe could feel you slowly relax, the tension not quite disappearing but fading enough that you could sigh and speak again.

“I missed you, Abe.”

“I missed you too, Partner.”

“Oh, this is just lovely, isn’t it?” Wilford said, and Abe rocked back on his heels as he joined in the hug, his arms wrapping around the both of you. “Look at us, together again!”

“Where’s my gun?” Abe growled, already looking down to see where he had dropped it.

“Don’t,” you said, and Abe could hear the exhaustion in your voice. “Please, Abe, not now. You need to know what really happened that weekend, and I promise I’ll try to…”

You sighed, head already hurting at the idea of trying to explain everything that happened. Your chest ached again, but you could feel the strength leaving your body like it had the night before last when you changed back, as if staying human was too much of an effort on top of everything else.

But you just had to make it a little longer, that’s all.

“But we need to get out of here,” you continued. Google was still roaming the halls, and Dark… You grimaced at the thought and felt the fangs in your mouth for a moment before they receded back into your regular teeth. “Please.”

Abe hesitated. Wilford was right here, he could end this all right now, but you were clearly not okay. His mind went back to when he left you in that hallway, told you to leave while he went running after the Colonel. He had often thought about that moment, remembered the look on your face, your grief at losing your friend combined with the confusion and the pain from your own injuries, and what he would have done differently if he had been given the chance.

He just didn’t think it would be this hard, to say, “Okay. We’ll go.” To pick up his gun and holster it, to keep an arm around you for support. To walk away and leave Wilford there, smiling and waving as though seeing off a couple of old friends.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep Googs busy for you,” Wilford said, and Abe felt the back of his neck itch with the desire to turn around and finish what he started. “I’ll make sure your name is added to the guest list, Abe, so feel free to come back any time!”

Abe made a noise at that but tried to hold back what he wanted to say for your sake. He had every intention of coming back here and settling this, once he was sure you were safe this time.

Wilford watched the two of you make your way down the hall, still waving until he stopped as if just noticing something was wrong. He rolled his shoulder back and then prodded it, his fingers finding the small hole in his shirt and then, with a bit of work, pulling out a used silver bullet.

“Huh.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a vague thought that, if you hadn’t intervened and this bullet had hit where Abe had been aiming, it would have been very bad. There was also something familiar about that whole business, an old face reappearing in his dressing room…But that thought quickly passed and he tossed the misshapen piece of silver over his shoulder with a shrug before turning his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing.

Or he would have, if that little distraction hadn’t made him forget. All thought of you and the hunter had disappeared as soon as the two of you were out of sight, so he swayed on his feet for a moment in the hallway, mind blank. If it were really important, he was sure it would figure itself out on its own without him. Most things usually did.

“Wilford Motherloving Warfstache! What have I told you about shooting in the building?!”

Right. Kathryn, his producer. His very angry producer, judging by the look on her face. Wilford inhaled, an excuse ready on his lips, before he dove back into his dressing room and shut the door with the faint hope that maybe she’d just keep walking on. Maybe she was yelling at someone else who also just happened to be named Wilford Motherloving Warfstache too, in which case, rude, Wilford was pretty sure he had this name first.

Either way, keeping Google busy was something that would only occur to him days later, when he would decide the best way to do that was spill a martini down Google’s pants. Not exactly helpful to you, but the Jims would have a field day catching that moment on film.

For now, Abe walked you to the elevators and pressed the down arrow, although he wasn’t sure what the plan would be once you reached the lobby. Just walk out and hope no one was too worried about people getting out of here, although if they had already spotted him on the cameras…

“No, we need to go up,” you protested, pushing the up arrow. “To Studio…5, I think?”

You rubbed your eyes, trying to push back the headache forming behind them, and shook your head when Abe said, “No, we don’t. We need to get out of here, remember?”

“My friends—” you started, only for the stair well door to crash open as Jackie, followed closely by Jameson and Chase, came spilling out and froze at the sight of you and Abe. “Have really good timing? Jackie, what are you—”

You were cut off as Jameson pulled you into a hug and then stepped back to look you up and down before signing, “Are you okay? We heard shooting!”

“Wait, you know them?” Abe asked.

“We came as fast as we could,” Jackie said to you, but he was glaring at Abe, who could already tell this guy was going to be a problem. “What the hell happened?”

“You didn’t actually shoot anyone, did you?” Chase asked, eyeing the gun at Abe’s side.

“No,” Abe answered, probably sounding a little more defensive than he meant to.

“Long story,” you muttered. “But we should get out of here first.”

“Security’s looking for us,” Abe added. Well, him in particular, but Jackie had also been caught on camera even if they hadn’t IDed him yet. “They checked the cameras fast, too fast for one person they know walked back out again. Probably because the magician’s distraction was a little…”

“Much, yeah,” Jackie admitted. That card trick of Marvin’s had given them the space to get in, but something forgettable like asking the receptionist for directions would have also done the trick without alerting every security guard in the building. “Something to work on for next time, but how do we get out of here?”

“Well, the three of us have guest passes,” Chase pointed out. “It’s just the two of you we have to worry about.”

Jackie had a suggestion ready for that, and Abe saw it coming, but he was interrupted by the elevator doors finally sliding open to reveal it was already occupied. At first most of the group tensed, thinking it was one of the security guards until he spoke.

“Oh, hi,” Marvin said, looking around and taking them all in with a quick count. “Well, this is easier than I thought it would be. Get in, we can’t just hang around here all day.”

Abe exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing into a glare that Jackie matched, and Marvin rolled his eyes as they all got in.

“Not my fault someone decided to start shooting,” Marvin remarked as he pressed the doors close button on the elevator over and over again until they slid shut. “Everyone is going to be swarming up here any second thanks to you, which should actually make it a little easier to walk out.”

Jackie said, “For you, maybe. Hunter and I don’t exactly have badges or illusions to help us blend in.”

“Like I was going to say, that’s easy,” Chase said. “They just saw you on the cameras, right? At a distance, probably not that great quality video, so all they’re working on is ‘guy in a hoodie’ and ‘bald guy with a black jacket.’ Just take those off, let us hold them, and JJ, let the angry guy borrow your hat. We keep our heads down on the way out and run if we have to.”

Jackie and Abe both hesitated, but Jameson shrugged and pulled off his hat. “He has a point.”

But you shook your head, eyes shut tight as you leaned against the elevator wall and wished it didn’t shake so much, that there was a window or some kind of vent or fresh air of any kind with this many people around you.

“Google said he had a file on Abe, so they know what his face looks like.”

Jackie gave the hunter an accusing stare as he asked, “There a reason this place has a file on you? Maybe something you should have told us before we came in here?”

“How should I know?!” Abe asked, before the realization hit. “Wait, this Google, what color is his shirt?”

“It’s…blue,” Chase answered, with an agreeing nod from Jameson. “But why does that matter?”

Because if it was the red one, then at least Abe would know why they knew him. It would make things a whole lot simpler, if he knew someone here was behind that loose end.

“They have a file on Abe for the same reason Wilford’s here and I’m on the guest list,” you answered, shaking the VIP badge hanging around your neck. “The studio manager, the one in charge of everything here, is Damien and Celine, or whatever’s left of them.”

Marvin slammed his hand on the emergency stop button, causing the elevator to immediately halt and everyone to stumble and catch themselves and each other while an alarm overhead began to go off.

“What are you doing?!” Abe said, his hand on your arm while Jameson was steadying you on the other side. “What happened to just walking out?!”

“New plan,” Marvin answered as he dropped to his hand and knees with a piece of chalk in hand. He drew a large symbol in the center of the elevator floor before scuttling around to draw a circle within the space the elevator provided, which meant pushing each of them out of the way in turn. “We are not taking any more chances, so teleport spell. Easier when we’re not moving. Now get in the circle, all of you, and try not to step on the chalk.”

“Didn’t you say this place would have something to stop people from doing this?” Jackie asked.

“To stop people from teleporting in, probably. Getting out though, why would anyone care about that?” Marvin looked at you, and when you met his stare through his sunglasses he asked, “Do you really think they’d let us leave?”

You sighed. After your talk with Dark, you weren’t sure of anything, and the scream of the alarm wasn’t making it any easier to think. “I don’t know.”

Marvin glanced at Jackie, who reluctantly nodded. Better not to risk it, if they could, not after what the twins did to you last time.

Once he was sure they were all in, Marvin stepped into the center of the circle and focused his energy. Around them, the chalk lit up with a brilliant blue light, reflecting off of the shiny walls of the elevator and giving them all a sickly color. To you, it was just a bright, colorless light that suddenly changed at the same second you heard Marvin’s breath catch.

The light in the elevator turned red before the circle suddenly drew in around the magician, whose head went back before he collapsed on the ground, flashes of red running up and down his body before they disappeared, taking the teleportation circle he had drawn with them.

“Marvin!”

The shout came from all sides, Jameson dropping to his knees first to look the magician over before looking up at the rest of you.

“He’s still breathing. I don’t know what he’s trying to say, though.”

There was a steady stream of words flowing from the magician’s mouth which to everyone else may have sounded like another one of his spells. You on the other hand could clearly hear that it sounded like every swear word Marvin knew, spoken as fast as possible under his breath, although you could only guess that was the case considering he had left English behind a while ago for German and had taken a detour into what now sounded like Gaelic. He was clearly in pain, but also not too injured from whatever just happened.

Jackie knelt to check his vitals, only to have to steady Jameson as the elevator floor suddenly jolted. The alarm stopped, and you all became aware of the elevator moving downward again just before the doors slid open to reveal the hallway to the lobby, along with Google and three armed guards who were all aiming into the elevator.

There was a moment of silence before Google said, “Intruders located. Lethal force suggested.”

His eyes changed as he stepped forward toward Abe or Marvin and Jackie on the ground you weren’t sure, and you could feel the hum of his machinery whirring up to do something before you blocked his path.

“Back off,” you growled, and it was a literal growl as you could feel the wolf taking over, as your features started to blur and shift. You felt the metal under his skin as you pushed him back out of the elevator, could smell the fear on the three all too human guards, could hear the others behind you holding their breath in shock as the fur began to show, as your teeth and claws came out. “You—”

Whatever you were about to say was cut off as one of the guards panicked and fired his gun, the blast of noise hurting far more than the punch of it hitting your stomach. It knocked the breath out of you, and for a moment everything seemed to slow.

Abe.

Out of reflex or instinct, your hand reached back and grabbed Abe’s wrist, stopping him before he could grab his gun and make himself a target. Your grip was too tight at first, and you tried to relax, to give him and the others behind you some signal that you were okay, even as underneath the ringing you could hear Jackie leaping to his feet and the panic of the others. Your mind felt like it was running too fast and too slow at the same time, but you felt strangely calm.

It was just a regular bullet, after all.

None of them managed to move faster than Google though, who without hesitation reached over and twisted the guard’s wrist with a sickening sound that was followed by his gun hitting the ground and a whimper of pain.

“Shooting VIPs is strictly forbidden,” Google said.

VIPs. The adrenaline racing through your system hit that word and stumbled across an idea that was completely ridiculous and stupid, mostly because you had a faint hope it might actually work.

“Google,” you said, drawing the magitek unit’s attention to you. It hurt, talking, each word a reminder of the sting in your stomach that was too slowly fading. “VIPs are allowed to bring guests, right? Is there a limit on how many I can have?”

Google considered the question while the other two guards just stared and exchanged looks, both very aware of their coworker lying in pain on the ground and the problem of this clearly non-human person who was still talking despite being doubled over a gunshot wound. “No, there is currently no limit in the policy. A concerning oversight that should be corrected.”

“But until then, there isn’t one. Which means—” You stopped to hiss slightly, your grip tightening on Abe’s wrist until the next surge of pain dimmed a little to continue, “—that as of now, everyone in that elevator is a guest of mine, understand? And if they’re guests, then that means they can’t be intruders.”

You could feel the fur start to settle and disappear, the claws and fangs slowly begin to retract. Too late to undo what they had all seen, but you couldn’t think about that right now. Even if a small part of you was wondering why Abe hadn’t pulled away yet, or if that flash of anger and what you could be would be enough to change how the others looked at you.

“Your logic appears to be…correct,” Google said, but his expression said he was still trying to find the hole in it. “But they do not have visitor passes.”

You hesitated, but Chase stepped forward and said, “That’s right, which you told us means they should be escorted out of the building, right? And since we’re already on our way out…”

“Understood,” Google said, sounding almost disappointed that he wasn’t able to break a few more bones. “Follow me.”

One of the security guards stepped forward and said, “Hold on, you can’t just—”

He paused, his eyes going to somewhere in the elevator behind you, and he swallowed and looked back at the other guard still standing who muttered back, “I’m not paid enough for this.”

Besides, it would be easier to blame Google than try to get involved at this point, or that seemed to be the guards’ point of view as they helped their third comrade up to his feet and out of the way.

Jackie picked up Marvin, who protested in a slurred voice, and you let go of Abe’s wrist only to find the hunter slipping his arm around you, his hand enveloping yours over the wound underneath.

“Lean on me,” he murmured under his breath as Jameson moved to support you on your other side.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, even though that was an absolute lie. “It wasn’t silver.”

It was Abe’s turn for his grip to tighten, holding you closer as the strange group followed the magitek unit across the lobby floor. He didn’t want to think about what he had just seen, the shot that was an echo of what his imagination brought to mind every time it went back to that night.

“At least until they’re not watching,” Abe pleaded, aware of the guards still in the lobby, the receptionist behind her desk. Aware that they had already seen you in your in between state, the fur and the fangs and something else he hadn’t really seen in you before now: anger.

You leaned against him, too tired to argue, in too much pain to pretend you weren’t, and asked, “Does it really matter anymore?”

Abe glanced over your head at Jameson, whose expression reflected what he was already thinking. You could hear Chase somewhere behind you, apologizing in a low voice to the guards before Jackie hissed at him to hurry up, just as you could hear the ticking of Jameson’s pocket watch that felt slightly out of sync with the steady noise coming from Google as he stopped at the glass doors of the studio and turned back to face your group.

“I am required to thank you for your time here at Dark Entertainment Studios,” he said, his eyes running over the six of you before focusing on you in particular. “I have also been asked to issue you your permanent VIP card for future visits, as well as a message from the studio manager.”

You stared at him in silence before taking the laminated card and the folded piece of paper, unable to think of anything to say before Abe and Jameson walked you out with the other three just behind.

Outside, you blinked in the sunlight and found it did nothing to get rid of the spots appearing on the edges of your vision, and let Abe and Jameson lead you in the direction of the parking lot while your aching, weary mind could only focus on the note Google had handed you.

Think about what I said, Y/N. And know that you’re always welcome here.

No training required.

-Dark

You recognized the handwriting, which made it sting that much more as you remembered notes in Damien’s handwriting, passed to you in crowded lecture halls or left on your desk at work early in the morning or after a rough full moon. A fresh little reminder that the man you thought you knew, that man…

You wanted to be furious, angry, to let all those feelings he left you with come spilling out of your head so they would just leave you alone, but as you stared at the note you just felt so tired, so done with it all. You just wanted to close your eyes and forget it all, for a little while at least…

Abe pulled your hand down, his concerned face swimming in your vision as his mouth moved, saying words that seemed out of sync with what you heard before it disappeared entirely with the rest of the world.

Abe had been arguing with Jackie about which car to take you to when he felt the shudder run up and down your body. Jameson stopped on your other side and looked at Abe, his eyes filled with panic, but neither of them could say or do anything to get through to you in time to keep you conscious or to stop you from crashing to the sidewalk in the shape of the wolf.

((End of Part 24. Thank you for reading. I’m sorry to end it there, and I had hoped to have the next part ready soon, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. So just to be clear in the mean time, the turning back into the wolf thing isn’t going to be nearly as long-lasting as it was in the beginning, and Marvin is (mostly) fine. He just really, really sucks at flirting and rescue operations, so that’s something for him to work on before the end of the story.

I may try to get the rest of the story written before I start posting again, but we’ll see. Technically, we’re getting near the end, but there’s a lot left to happen and I haven’t exactly been very good at sticking to an outline, even if I like where the detours have gone (this whole studio section was supposed to be completely different, for example). For now though, it’s going to be another break until the next part is posted.

Scratch that, Part 25: Catching Up is now up.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

[awesomefairytailfan]

Fanfiction

So I Going to be starting a Dynasty Warriors fan fiction series here and on fanfiction.net that does not mean I'm going to stop uploading funny picture text images and this is the first chapter no real conversation hasn't even been proof weed by who's going to start it just me talking to my tablet with my speech to text thingy and the protagonist who I haven't made a name for it yet from Canada before the pandemic contemplating on his situation in ancient China.

In less then a week I should be able to have someone check over this and we're going to go through the first chapter. Maybe I should call this first chapter an opening.

Chapter one am I just in a dream?

The last few weeks I just keep asking myself the same question over and over is this all a dream is this just one big dream now? Being in ancient China don't let me know when on the calendar I supposed to use don't even know if this world has an equivalent of it no it's not my world I'm not some sort of super badass in my own world but in this world I am strong I take damaged easily when I woke up in this world or made me fell asleep in my own I found myself walking for I don't know I have no watch on me but I found a number of people being attacked by wolves was completely convinced at that point I was in a dream so I figured let's go wake myself up by grabbing a big stick in it packing them but then something funny happened I found myself running faster than I ever had outside of video games I attacked the walls and I actually sent them major damage one of them jumped me from behind I barely even noticed it then I'm headed to the ground and killed it the people said to me you must be a music Warrior what what Lord do you serve have you gone to fight someone named on Don Zillow do you know who that was I'll talk about what I know about him in a bit I noticed a a small irritation in my back I asked them to look at it and they said I got a small Scar from where the wolf attempted to bite me to death I said Tiny bite me to death I need a doctor my day say no it's only a minor scrape especially to a Musa Warrior I asked him to speak English but they responded what's English? I said it was the language we was speak they said no we speak Mandarin I decided yep I'm definitely in the dream at that point sorry running myself into a tree it hurt a bit but I actually broke the tree in half some people showed up who I did not say from the walls and they'll ask me what was going on and they was saying the Musa Warrior saved us stick just flying off the ground and then done to me I have noticed a big annoyance I was hungry luckily they wanted to have a feast for me shall we walk back to the village and order for us to get some food and number of them dead some things I'd rather not talk about with the Wolves sad don't let stuff like this go to waste I asked him where we are I think they were pretty Pacific and I'm like okay no idea what that means I asked them what country we are in they said China I started finger to myself find it this really wasn't the dream if I'm somehow stuck in China and I don't know what time they asked me a bunch of questions where I'm from Canada over a great ocean and I also said my ancestors are technically from the same land mass as here but I think that continent is actually farther than where my home line is from China don't let me know for sure I'm not an expert in distance of countries and all that have I got that today prepared a small feast they did tell me it was a small village and I had to agree smaller than my hometown and no technology anywhere I was thinking if this is my life now I am going to be I'm going to be so bored but I got offered a lot of free food took some adjustment for me to actually eat things was never no I'm already ten but never was normal to begin with I've always had Asperger's I'm supposed to take medication not going to be able to in ancient China I guess nobody knew about the calendar I kept calling the Christian calendar I think that's what they mean by the years we use never did find out if it was after or before Jesus Christ and then I found the weirdest ability of all I'm super strong now a bunch of heavy wooden blocks was about to smash a kid I pushed the young child out the way thinking suicide maybe I'll wake up but those heavy things did not even hurt me they say see you must be a Musa Warrior can you protect our small village from the evil Don Zillow I told them it's probably the best kind of job I can do for now I'm and told them I never really add something you could call an actual job told them I was on disability a lot of what I say they constantly laughing did not believe they saw me at 2 Mighty and magnificent to be considered disabled in my own world

and they did not believe that I wasn't actually Chinese I was clearly not from this world but I'm constantly moved on I managed to do a number of odd jobs around the town with superhuman strength and with all my time watch and consuming recreational entertainment I managed to entertain them when they had down time which allowed them had more because I could make jobs a lot quicker and easier the kids found me hilarious adult sometime Tom me not to talk about certain things on topics the way I did say good yeah don't want to upset them too much this lasted for about a month I think and tell the town faced its biggest danger of all I was actually the first one to notice that because I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I noticed the fire off in the distance and decided to wake the town mayor of not knowing how dangerous it was noticeably closer the mayor said evacuate everyone we can he started shouting knowing immediately Dan got it was super dangerous I'm like danger fire luckily with my always completely loud voice and my ability to one very fast it was less than like 4 minutes before everyone what's going out of bed quickly the mayor told me top send some trees flying out an amount I think I managed to save the town Catching Fire for like 15 minutes then luckily. Got every one to evacuate and get them money and thinks it could carry but eventually the whole town went up in Flames nobody died everyone had close to travel in but the town was found dead I might have just went into fire except at this point there was so much time passing I believe mostly I wasn't dreaming anymore and that just would have killed me mosa Dean man in the village was talking with the mayor of the town a bunch of the kids were asking can't you make everything better can't you make all the fire damage go away I had to say I don't I can't do anything like that and I don't even know what we were going to do next his not my decision I don't know the knowledge to make that decision and the News came from the mare he decided we're going to one of the Cities some of the people protested we were just beep on ourselves in the danger of the Warlords and on Zillow fighting but the mayor said only a city trying to accommodate so many people at once our hometown is destroyed we do not have the resources to build another before the winter and then we started going towards the city I figured if I can get everybody to the city NeNe I could earn some extra money and you some future knowledge to benefit Chinese Society in general not like I can make them ocracy happen but maybe I couldn't please how much stuff they're about to plant or how quickly they can do harvesting I know a bit about that stuff we travelled as fast as we can and I often had to find myself killing animals with whatever I could it wasn't really that dangerous I beat the crap out of them they could barely do anything to me we had to sweep in pants and a like but I usually got a good night sleep despite being on main source of Defense because while they decided the high people on Sentry Duty and to have somebody wife buy me to wake me up they had to wake me up a few times like that but no one got killed and one day I bet after we started going for that day we were on a big we went up a big hill and then we saw the city I was thinking nice city maybe get to look around but Polly should spend at least a few days after we get there with the townspeople who take good care of me some of them said I'm might be needed to get a job or Join one of the military armies when I asked about it I wasn't thinking I'd probably do that I like saving people but never really been much for military outside of playing video games it was going to be a few hours on our way down that's when the biggest action happened that I wanted to wake up phlegm when I kill somebody.

[skips-is-asleep]

fic prompt: while on the meteor, dave tries to convince Karkat that he can cook even tho his cooking knowledge stops at Kraft Macaroni. it's like a cooking show if that cooking show were left unattended for most of its childhood. rose stands by inwardly just fuckin living for this shit as Dave swears to god humans eat this

I almost didn’t do this one but this is my first ever request and also I'm not a fucking quitter so

You hate living here. You hated living here when it was you and a bunch of your friends, and you hated living here when the threat of a murder was around every corner, and you hate living here now that you’re with a couple of strangers that look weird and behave weird and say weird things.

Not that they didn’t say weird things before you started living with them, the two of them had that shit on lock. But now you have to hear it come out of their mouths, and into your brain where you’re forced to visualize some of the things they say.

At first, it was kind of nice? In that new-haircut way, where you’re not confident in it, but you can’t really change it so your only option is to just wear it until it becomes you’re new normal.

You have not reached that point in your new hivemates yet, unfortunately.

You’re not friendly with the humans. Not in the same way you are over text, at least. It’s always been difficult making friends in person, even the friends that you spent your entire life with had to live with a little bit of shunning from you simply because you’re not used to sharing your space with other living beings. It’s weird.

When the Strider human approaches you (and you call him that because you think it’s fucking weird to address someone by just a one-syllable name, and last names are more comfortable than just refusing to address him, not to mention rude) it only spells bad energy. Rancid vibes as he puts it.

You’re curled up on the sofa, in the recreation center, reading the same book you found in a decrypted hallway a few weeks ago. The cover of the book is so smudged and ripped, there’s no cover really, and some of the pages are torn out, but it’s kind of fun imaging what the missing pages had in them. Strider smacks something on the table in front of you and it makes your whole body jolt and hair stand up on end as your claws grip the pages and tear them even more. Great, that’s like a whole six more words you’ll have to make up later.

As you peel the parchment off your fingertips, you finally look up at him. You do your best to look annoyed, but you know you’re just tired. He’s got that look on his face. The one that says--

“Check this shit out.”

Good, god, yeah, that look. The thing he slammed on your table was a box, small, probably less than ten inches tall, and thing, only about an inch wide and deep, and a bright fucking blue with ugly bright yellows to contrast it. The design alone makes your lip turn slightly. “Whatever the fuck you want to bother me with this time, I guarantee I don’t have the patience for it. And I usually have the patience for it.”

“Total lie, but it’s okay, I forgive you, ‘cause this is gonna blow your fucking alien fucking troll mind, dude. This,” And he holds up the box, suddenly you feel as though you’re being sold something and you really really don’t want it. “is a Kraft dinner, and it’s called kraft cause it was crafted by the straight-up amazing ass food gods, not us ‘cause we’re different.”

You don’t want to talk. You feel like talking will encourage him to keep going, but he keeps going regardless as if you aren’t even there.

“I’m under the impression that you don’t know what this is, or even what’s inside of it, so lemme give you the tour.” Strider opens up the box and decaptulouges what appears to be an entire fucking metal basin, cooking surface, and a whole fucking sink. It’s...food. You suppose. Considering you’re not entirely certain what humans classify as ‘dinner’, it does not seem to be the same as what you do.

Strider dumbs the box into the metal basin, and out clatters little hard....let’s be honest here, they’re tubes. Tiny tubes.

“Is--” You start, and try to reach forward to touch the tubes. Strider smacks your hand away with a sharp slap and you hiss and pull back. “Dude, fuck off, I'm doing a bit here. Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times, you know the drill.”

“What drill! There’s no d--I don’t want to be part of your stupid bit! All you ever do is run around with your little fucking god powers and make shit do other shit and turn shit into other shit and make a mess and who has to clean it up?? Karkat does, Karkat cleans up everything and he never gets a single please, or thank you or anything! And now you want me to watch you eat plastic and pretend it’s food?? I’m not falling for it, especially not this time, you blabbering, annoying fuckhead.”

The noises he makes, which you think are meant to pacify you, sound kind of like a tea kettle that’s only just starting to boil, a soft hiss/shush noise while tapping you on the shoulder. “Just trust me on this one, it’ll all be worth it.”

Fuck it, what else are you gonna do? Count pebbles??

After you seem like you’re going to allow him to continue, Strider fills the basin with water, and puts it on the cooking apparatus, turning the thing on and mumbling while he puts on his weird little show.

“Water’s gettin’ hot and it’s ‘bout to get hotter, fill it to the top, make sure it doesn’t splatter--no that’s fucking stupid, scratch that, reverse, uh, actually fast forward...” There’s his dumb little powers again. Before your very eyes, the water’s boiling. You peak over the top curiously and the little plastic tubes are big, pale and bendy. They peak over the water just a little, not completely submerged. He conveniently opens up his sylladex again and pulls out...a bowl with holes on it??

“You didn’t salt the water, Dave, you’re supposed to salt the water.” You peak over your shoulder and see Lalonde, the other human, in the doorway. She’s leaning her hip against the framing, arms crossed and smiling. How long has she been there. “Whatever, it doesn’t even make it heat up faster, who care.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m absolutely not.” He then dumps the pasta out of the basin into the bowl, all the water spilling out into the sink. You’ll admit, now your interest is piqued. The tubes are soft now! Just from cooking in water??

You’ve decided your interest is un-piqued. Even as Lalonde continues to make fun of her human counterpart for not putting human salt rocks into a big pot of water where they would surely sink to the bottom and not add any experience to soft squish tubes. But you don’t say anything, because you’re tired of being made fun of for not understanding human cultures. Mouth shut.

Lalonde scoffs, baffled. “It’s for seasoning, Dave.”

“It’s cheese, Rose, it has all the flavors it needs!”

As they bicker, you see Strider move the tubes from the bowl to the basin again, stove off and he picks out a little white pouch, opens it and dumps it in. You watch with astonishment and disgust. Those tubes looked perfectly suitable!!

The two of them look to you, Rose with surprise but Dave keeps the same face on regardless. Strider has stopped stiring, with the big ol’ spoon he took out as well, which was changing the color of the tubes and making them into this gross mush that looked a lot like the insides of some animals back home. You almost gag, but manage to hold it back just enough. “I know it’s probably weird to you, but I swear it’s good, here gimme a sec.”

“Listen, bro, I'm basically a fucking M and C expert, I use to eat this shit for weeks on end.”

“Yes, and then you’d faint on your keyboard from iron deficiency.”

“That was one time, and it wasn’t even because of that, it was because of something else completely.”

“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!” You sit up and shout, now kind of angry that Dave ruined perfectly good tubes and was acting like nothing was even weird about it.

You’ll admit you’re curious. So when he starts to pull out a little spoon, and get you some on it, it makes a little squelch noise and you do gag at that, and he holds it up for you to take. You do. And you stare at it for a really really long time. With as much care and precision as you can manage, you take one little tube. out and eat it.

It doesn’t...taste like anything. Not strongly of anything at least. You almost wonder what steps occurred to bring this sort of thing into existence. Not only on earth but here, on the meteor. You don’t say anything, just handing the spoon back to Strider. It’s the most polite way you can think of.

Still, he asks, “it’s good isn’t it?”

[hero-philia]

Hey I am a little scared to ask this but can I request a headcanon for Shinsou where the reader is Porphyrophobic, which means having a huge fear of the color purple. Maybe add some angst but happy ending because this boy deserves it. Love your writing!!

First of all, thank you so much for trusting me with this request!! I’ve done a bit of research to understand what porphyrophobia is about and what the symptoms are. Please tell me, if I’ve portrayed something in a wrong way because I’ll make sure to chance it >.< 

Remember guys: This is a safe place for everyone! So don't be scared to send me requests of all kind :)

I DID NOT PROOF-READ THIS, AAAAAAH! 

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The Fear of Being Misunderstood | Shinsou x fem!Reader

-> Reader suffering from porphyrophobia, the fear of the color purple

1386 words

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With a groan Shinsou opened his heavy eyes only to be faced with darkness. Starring at the ceiling he recapped how often he had turned around to find a comfy position already and how many times he had nearly drifted off to dreamland before reality had pulled him back. Another sign of displeasure escaped his mouth when he found himself thinking about the same thing all over again. 

„God“, he sighed as he finally decided to sit up. 

His hands buried in his wild hair, he got a grim reminder for what was keeping him awake tonight. 

„Oh, Shinsou! I didn’t expect to meet you here“, Kendou said in her usually cheerful tone. „I was out shopping with a friend. Speaking of friend, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my classmate Shinsou!“

But the girl that had been introduced to him as (Y/N) had just looked at him with wide eyes like she was facing a lion. The longer she had done so, the more irregular her breath had gotten until the girl had finally dropped her shopping bag to run off into the crowd. 

No matter how much he tried to recap the events, he couldn’t find a decent explanation for her behaviour. Since Kendou had left to chase after her with her dropped errands, the boy had found himself all alone yet again. Meanwhile with his feet on the ground, Shinsou buried his face in his hands. 

The way the poor girl had starred at him, pure fear in her eyes. Her body stiff with tension in every single muscle. He had no idea why, but (Y/N) really hated him. Or worse, feared him more than anything else on this planet. 

Maybe someone else had told her rumours about his past, like the bullies in elementary school and middle school had decided to do. Who knew what horrendous stories she had heard about the first year with the brainwashing quirk. Most likely she had suffered from the same state as all the others - Imagining the nightmares of what Shinsou had done with his ability before. Torture, manipulation, ruling like a demon king.

„I’m really sorry, (Y/N)“, Shinsou whispered into the dark.

Just the stars and the moon managed to bring a little bit of light into the room. If only he had been fast enough to explain himself to her. But now this chance was long gone and the simple ‚what if‘ kept him from sleeping. 

~

The next morning, a more than welcomed Sunday without classes, Shinsou basically hypnotised his cereals while fighting the urge to drop his head into the milk in order to give in to his tiredness. Normally he hated the intensity of several of his classmates, such a Tetsutetsu or Monoma this early in the morning - Before lunch to be specific. 

Reconsidering the circumstances that the image of the girl from yesterday was still ghosting around in his mind, he would love to have someone by his side to at least be annoyed from. May that be a non-stop enthusiastic Tetsutetsu or a non-stop bragging an 1-A hating Monoma. 

Back in his room he shut the door behind him before sitting down at the desk with his neatly organised study materials on it. 

In between the halfway finished homework for hero history and the stack of school book in alphabetical order his phone was charging. What finally caught his eye was the blue light, which blinked every few seconds, in the upper left corner of the display. Someone must have texted him, probably a new meme in the group chat of 1-B or Aizawa to reschedule tomorrow’s morning practice for the sake of the both of them.

He proceeded to wipe his face with his hand before he unlocked his phone. That was when his heart jumped to his throat. 

Two new messages from Kendou, a voice message and a text, the latter including the name (Y/N). 

Faster than his worries could take over his brain, he opened the chat room. Thanks to his eyes rushing way too much, he had to read the text three times until he understood what it was saying: Basically that you had wanted to send him a message, but hadn’t been brave enough because of his profile picture.

„Well, you know, it’s a selfie and therefore … purple“, Kendou had texted him. 

What on earth? This didn’t even make sense at all. So he clicked on the voice message, expecting to hear the familiar voice of his classmate while she would explain the situation and give more details. 

Hello Shinsou, this is (Y/N). The girl you’ve met yesterday in the company of Itsuka. 

Luckily the phone was laying safely on the desk as Shinsou’s head snapped into the direct of it. Chances were high that he would have dropped the device, if he had it in his heads now. Your voice echoed through his room as the voice message went on.

My behaviour was really rude when we ran into you. Itsuka has told me a bit about you and I think that you are a nice person, Shinsou. So I hope that you don’t hate me because of what happened. Though I will totally understand, if you do.

His jaw metaphorically dropped at your words. When he had obviously been the reason for your way of acting, he couldn’t be mad at you. How? There were plenty of options to choose from in order to find an explanation to be scared of him. Starting with his grumpy face, ending with his reputation.

You don’t have to listen to it, but I want to let you know what was going on. Seriously, I would have loved to talk to you. But … your hair and your eyes … N-Not that they are ugly or anything! They are totally not! Still … they are purple. I have a condition called porphyrophobia. This means that I’m afraid of the color purple.

For a second the boy didn’t know what to think of it. On the other hand you had absolutely no motivation to make up something like this and since you had already recorded this message for him, it had to be true. 

The way your voice had changed from being a tad bit excited and nervous at the same time to being filled with seriousness once you had begun to explain your burden, it got his attention like nothing else had recently.

When I faced you yesterday, the anxiety inside of me took over. I didn’t mean to treat you like this and I’m really sorry. Since we will most likely never meet again, please let me tell you one last thing. Though I haven’t seen it in action, your quirk sounds pretty amazing. You will definitely become a pro hero one day. I’m rooting for you! Good luck.

With this announcement the message ended. Your voice died, but it continued to replay in his head over and over again. Especially the last words had put him in a state of disbelieve.

You, a complete stranger, that had been so afraid of him, was having high hopes for his future. Even though you knew that he was attending class 1-B and therefore not the hero course yet, you believed in him with such optimism that it paralysed him for a moment. 

A few minutes later he replied to Kendou’s original text with more than his usual Thanks. 

Kendou herself tilted her head at the new message in the chat room as it differed a lot from what she had seen coming. But then she counted two and two together before answering her classmate: This is her number […] and no, there is absolutely no purple in your profile anymore.

Instead of Shinsou’s selfie a cat looked at her in his profile, which she identified as one of the strays from the park a few streets away. The formerly purple letters of his name were now changed to a casual black. Whatever he was intending to do, he had thought it through. Itsuka smiled as she sent her reply.

He didn’t exactly know why he was doing all of this. Nevertheless he was certain to find a way to thank you for being brave enough to send that voice message. 

You deserved it. 

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(A/N) - I’m seriously considering a part 2 of this! Shinsou needs more appreciation on my blog >.<

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Posted: April 7th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #17: Storm

Iris was laughing as she got in the car. “Weather reports say it’s gonna be a big one!”

Caitlyn had just met this woman. This was a ridiculous idea. Chasing a violent thunderstorm had to be the dumbest idea any human ever had, surpassed only by chasing tornados, which apparently Iris also did when she was further west. There was no way in which it was a good idea to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Caitlyn slid into the passenger seat. “Just so you know, I feel like this is probably a dumb idea.”

“Of course it’s a dumb idea!” Iris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Humanity only progresses by having dumb ideas!”

Her laughter, her cheer, was infectious. Iris was nearly six feet tall and easily two hundred eighty pounds, her hair buzzed short and her arms tattooed. She was everything Caitlyn’s mother would have told her to be wary of. She was also sunlight in human form. Her force of personality was blinding, overwhelming, but warm, and it lit up the world.

On the interstate, the miles per hour crossed the 55 line and continued to go up. “Where are we going?” Caitlyn asked. “I mean, yeah, a thunderstorm, but physically where?”

“We’re going south to intercept it. Probably hit it near the Maryland border, so we’ll take the bypass to the wild side of Delaware and follow it down on local roads.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right? It’s just a storm.”

“They’re never just storms, Caity.” Caitlyn could have gone a long time not knowing how Iris was spelling that, but unfortunately, Iris had addressed her by name in the text she’d sent to provide her number and email address. “Storms can kill people. They don’t have to be hurricanes. They knock down trees, they take out the power, they cause accidents. So I hunt them down.”

“That… really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, you’ll see! It’ll be fun, I haven’t had a friend along on one of these trips in a year!”

Iris cut off a tractor trailer, causing the bellow of an air horn behind them. Small wonder no one wanted to go with her. “What happened with the last friend?”

“We broke up. She thought I was reckless! Can you imagine?” The smile Iris briefly flashed at Caitlyn before turning back to the road knew exactly why her ex thought her reckless, and was self-mocking about it.

“No, I can’t imagine it,” Caitlyn said, deadpan.

“But you know I’m reckless and you got in the car with me anyway, so if sometime in the future you say to me, ‘you’re too reckless’, I can say, ‘you knew that about me on the first date.’”

“This is a date?”

Iris’s laughter this time was almost a bark. “Pretty sure it must be! You’re not in love with storm chasing and you don’t like the way I drive, so you must have gotten in the car on the strength of my beauty and charisma, or something.”

“Something,” Caitlyn agreed, though in fact that was exactly why she got in the car. There was no way Iris could be considered beautiful by airbrushed Hollywood standards, but Caitlyn had always thought those women seemed somehow plastic, unreal, and now she knew why. Iris was realer than real, larger than life, and since they’d met and started talking at the mixer less than an hour ago, she’d known she was willing to get in Iris’s car and go anywhere. Including to Maryland to find a thunderstorm.

“You must be looking to add some chaos and recklessness to your life. Every woman who gets in my car is looking for that, or they wouldn’t get in the car.”

“How many women have gotten in your car like that?” Caitlyn asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, only three.” Iris wove in and out of a wolfpack of cars. “Four, now, counting you. I don’t exactly run around luring all the women in with my siren song.” She laughed. “How about you, any ex-girlfriends? Or boyfriends, I don’t judge.”

“One boyfriend when I was fifteen, back before I knew I was a lesbian. One girlfriend. We were together for ten years.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “She thought I was boring. And not very good in bed. She wasn’t rude enough to say it in those words, but I can read between the lines.” Strange; Caitlyn hadn’t told anyone else that, and would normally have thought it oversharing. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was telling Iris, now. It didn’t seem like a great idea to warn a woman you were interested in that your last girlfriend thought you were boring in bed.

“Well, my philosophy is, if your girlfriend is bad in bed, it’s usually because you’re a lousy communicator and you never told her what you wanted, or else you’re a picky picky princess and you have a very narrow range of tolerance for what you like. At least, if she’s a cool human being in the first place, which you seem like you probably are.”

“No, it – she was wilder than me, and she wanted more than I could give.”

“Then it just sounds like you were incompatible,” Iris declared.

She glanced down at her tablet. “Huh. It’s changing course. We’re going to take the highway all the way down, Caity, be faster that way. I think we’ll be able to intersect it at Delaware House.”

“At where?”

“It’s a rest stop on I-95 near the Maryland border. I’m gonna need somewhere to pull over and it’s not a great idea to do that on the highway itself if you have any choice in the matter.”

“What’re you going to do when you catch it?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’m gonna punch it in the nose!” Iris laughed.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Okay, but seriously. You take pictures of them? Do you send them to NOAA or something? What do you do when you catch the storm you’re chasing?”

“You’ll see!”

***

An hour later and they were inside the storm, according to Iris’ tablet, which was set to a live feed of satellite imaging from weather.com or someplace. They’d just crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge, and it was raining hard. The tablet said it was eleven minutes to Delaware House, but that was probably assuming normal highway speed, and despite the rain, Iris was still driving at least 75 miles an hour.

“So you wanna get some food or something after we’re done here? Delaware House has a Popeye’s, we could get fried chicken.”

“Sure, why not.” Caitlyn had spent the past hour talking about herself, which was weird, because usually she was quiet and would hang back in any conversation, and she usually preferred to listen rather than talk. And you’d think Iris’ boisterousness would make it so she’d always be the one talking, but in fact she’d said almost nothing about herself. She’d talked a lot, but mostly questions for Caitlyn, who’d found herself as a result telling Iris her entire life story. “Maybe you can tell me some things about yourself. I feel like I’ve been talking and talking. You must be sick of hearing my voice.”

“I would never get sick of that voice, Caity. You have a lovely voice.”

“Most people don’t think so. They think I’m quiet and monotonous. Or, sometimes, loud and monotonous.”

“Some people have no grasp of subtlety,” Iris said. “Oh, good, the timing’s perfect. Looks like the center of the storm’s going to be passing over here in minutes. If I speed up just a little, we should get to Delaware House in time.”

“Why is the center of the storm so important? Does it look any different than the rest of the storm?”

“Not to most people,” Iris said cryptically, and leaned forward like a race car driver, her foot presumably turning into a block of lead from how the car sped up.

“Uh, aren’t you worried about hydroplaning?” Caitlyn yelled over the sound of the engine revving as they accelerated.

“Water knows better than to do that to me!” Iris yelled back, grinning.

“No, but seriously--!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got the car under control!”

Caitlyn held onto the handle above the car door, awkwardly – it really wasn’t positioned well to be a safety handle – as Iris raced through the storm, only slowing down when she reached Delaware House. She coasted onto the left-side exit and allowed momentum to carry her to the parking lot, only braking once she was there.

As she pulled into a parking spot in the back, she said, “I don’t know if you wanna stay in the car or come out with me, but you can do whatever you like. I gotta get a move on, though, the storm center’s almost here.”

“I’ll stay in the car for now,” Caitlyn said, wondering if all of this was a terrible mistake. Maybe Iris was right and she was looking to add some recklessness and chaos to her life, but maybe this was too much.

“Okay.” Iris got out of the car, and looked up at the sky. The rain was coming down in sheets so thick, it was hard for Caitlyn to actually see her through it – she was a blob of color, not a clear human shape. But she heard Iris’ voice with surprising clarity.

“OKAY, MOTHERFUCKER! IT’S ON, NOW!”

What.

“COME ON, YOU LITTLE PISS TRICKLE! YOU CALL THIS RAIN, MY MOMMA DUMPED MORE WATER DOWN MY THROAT WHEN SHE GAVE ME A SIPPY CUP TO DRINK FROM! GET OVER HERE, YOU COWARD, AND FACE ME!”

The wind moaned, making the car creak.

“YEAH? YOU WANNA SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU DUMB SHIT? COME ON! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

And then, as Caitlyn stared in absolute shock, Iris punched the sky… and the sky reeled, the clouds parting for a bare moment, before thunder rolled and lightning slammed down, hitting a nearby tree.

“YOUR AIM’S WORSE THAN A BLIND GRANDMA THROWING A DISHRAG! THINK YOU CAN HIT ME? COME AT ME, FUCKER!” Iris punched the clouds again – impossibly, because they were however many thousands of feet in the air and she was here on the ground, but the clouds roiled as if they’d been struck. Then she went to the ground, rolling, and came up to a sitting position next to an oversized pickup truck. Lightning struck the truck, and Iris sprang up and swung her fists at the sky again, her body language suggesting that she was putting all of her body’s force into the punches, and meeting resistance. One, two, three punches, and a gap opened in the clouds and stayed that way. Lightning came down again and hit a tree in the picnic area.

“OH, YEAH! GOTCHA ON THE ROPES NOW! GIVE IT UP, YOU SUMBITCH, IT’S ALL OVER FOR YOU!”

She swung her left arm out in a blocking gesture. A moment later, lightning struck inches away from the arm. Iris followed up with multiple punches, clearing more of the sky. The rain had significantly diminished, making it much easier to see what she was doing. “GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN SKY, MOFO! DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE HERE? WELL, DID I, DIPSHIT?” More punches, more clear sky. Another lightning strike, and an increase in the wind, blowing hard enough that the car actually rocked in it. And then Iris swung her arm out against the wind, and it dissipated. “THAT’S RIGHT, YOU LITTLE SHIT CREEK, WHO’S YOUR MAMA? WHO’S YOUR MAMA? I’M THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING RAINBOW, KIDDO, NOW GET BACK TO YOUR FUCKING PLAYPEN AND DRINK YOUR BABA!”

There was, in fact, a rainbow glittering in the sky, as the storm turned to mist.

Iris pulled the car door open. She was completely drenched. “Well, I kicked that thing’s ass,” she reported gleefully. “You up for fried chicken?”

“How – how did you –”

“Hon. You are the Greek mythology expert. How do you think? I said I was the goddamn rainbow, and I know you heard me, right?” She grinned widely.

“Iris was the goddess of the rainbow, and messenger of the gods,” Caitlyn said, mechanically, “but there was nothing in mythology about her fighting storms.”

“That’s because the Greeks were a bunch of patriarchal assholes. They saw Zeus throw some lightning bolts around one time and decided he was the god of storms. Never thought about the fact that rainbows come out after a storm’s over, did they?” She took a step back from the car and shook herself, like a dog, sending raindrops flying everywhere. “So. Do I drive you home now or do we go get fried chicken?”

Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Fried chicken. I have so many questions.”

“And I’ve got so many answers, so this will work out great!”

The storm had turned into nothing but a misty drizzle. Caitlyn got out of the car and followed Iris toward the glassed-in building that was Delaware House.

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

While this is far from the only story idea of mine inspired by it, I definitely do have to credit “Fear for the Storm” by Jessica Best, from the podcast series “Starship Iris”, for inspiring this story. Also the Holly Near song “How Bold”, but with a happier outcome.

[scottfuckingreed]

Better with you - Montgomery De La Cruz

-

ANONYMOUS SAID: ‘I have an idea for a possible future Monty story. I don’t know how to say it without it coming out the wrong way so I’m just gonna go ahead anyway lol, something where the reader cheats on her boyfriend with Monty and they have their own little thing on the side because Monty just makes her feel so good like not just in a sexual way but in other ways too. Kind of like how Jess loves Alex, but it’ll never compare to Justin’

-

Warnings!: quite a bit of swearing and those sexual things (also Bryce is mentioned but not in much detail)

“Hey!” Y/BF/N says as his arms wrap themselves around me and kisses me on the forehead. “How’s it going?” I somewhat force a smile up to him. It’s not that I’m not happy to see him, it’s just hard to smile in such a shit place. School of course. “Pretty good actually. I just finished some things up with Tyler. It’s finally getting somewhere.” Y/BF/N is friends does photography with him, so they’re pretty much best friends. Which is nice - I love Tyler - but drama seams to follow Tyler. So it follows Y/BF/N. And so it passes me too. “You have a free period next, right?” I nod at his question. “Lucky! I’ll meet you in our usual spot afterwards?” A quick peck lands on my lips, and then he’s suddenly walking away.

I sit in the cafeteria. It’s usually overcrowded and too loud, but there’s only a handful of people not in class right now. Which is a relief. Starting to peel my orange, I glance up to notice a certain ‘Montgomery’ walking my way. “Y/N! Fancy seeing you here,” he places himself on the opposite side of the table. I shake my head, a smile slowly cracking. “Wow Cruz, you say that as if you don’t sit your ass in that seats pretty much daily at this time,” his eyebrows raise. “Alright Y/N. I just wanted to say hi to my best friend jeez.” I shove a segment in my mouth, pushing it to the side of my mouth for a second. “Aren’t you meant to be in some Literatue class or something right now?” His eyes light up. Sometimes I think I should just not say anything to Monty, but I like Monty. “See, I knew you cared-” he pauses, grabbing the other half of my orange from the table. “And I ain’t gonna use it, so what’s the point?” I look at him in somewhat amazement as he casually eats my food. “I mean, fair enough,” I shrug. I should be used to this. This has happened almost every day for a few months now. Why? I don’t know. It just did one day, and then it was almost like a routine. “Thanks for that, I’ll see you later?” I nod at him, although I know I shouldn’t.

“Are we hanging out later?” I ask my boyfriend. “Sorry Y/N, my mum needs me,” I nod slightly. Internally sighing, the answer is everything I expected. Don’t get me wrong, I love him for being close to his family, but I get that response every time I ask. We’ve had sex twice. You may think, what’s wrong with that? We’ve been dating for a year. It’s fine though. I can’t exactly say ‘leave your mum’ can I? Unfortunately not.

Instead I go to Jessica’s. The fact that Y/BF/N doesn’t make *that much* of an effort does kinda get me down, and Jess always knows how to snap me out of those thoughts. So I can’t help but get excited as I pull up to her house. Hardly parking, I see her body rush towards my car and throw herself into the passenger’s seat. “Perfect timing, let go!” She smiles way too massively at me. “Where are we going?” I laugh nervously. “Bryce is having a small get together.” I can guarantee it won’t be a ‘small get together’. Bryce does parties, and they’re always PARTIES. “I thought-“ “Nah, now drive girl!”

We walk in, and it’s exactly what I expected. This ‘small get together’ is at least 50 people. “Welcome ladies!” Scott smiles and runs up to us with a red cup in each hand. My automatic reaction to this gesture is to smell the cup, and let’s just say I didn’t have to get my nose too close to smell the thickness of the alcohol. “Jesus, what’s in this?” I ask, making Jess laugh. “I’m not sure. Monty made it,” he shrugs and gets lost in a crowd of people. “Drink up Y/N,” Jess taps the bottom of my cup. “I’m driving, and I can’t image how many units is in this one cup.” Her eyes roll. “Suit yourself, I’m finding Justin!” I doubt I’ll see Jess again tonight.

Drinking this - whatever he wants to call it - is a bad idea for me, so I go into the kitchen and find myself a drink. Just as I sip my water, I get a text.

Hey! Xx - Y/BF/N ❤️

I almost immediately respond.

Are you able to get away?x - Y/N

I see those 3 dots pop up, meaning he’s typing. Just as I thought I could escape, his response was exactly what I didn’t need to hear.

Sorry Y/N, it’s a bit late. I’ll call you in a bit though?xx - Y/BF/N ❤️

‘Call me in a bit’? Is he taking the piss? Damn I feel special. ITS ALSO 8:30 LIKE WHAT? I roll my eyes, which make them land on the back of Monty’s head. I shake my head as his eyes meet mine, and can’t help but smile. “Montgomery! I heard you’ve supplied the drinks tonight,” he shrugs and raises his eyes with a beaming smile. “You know me Y/N, it’s nice right?” As I press my lips together, his face forms a shocked expression. “I’m offended, have a sip,” he passes me his drink. I know I shouldn’t drink tonight, but honestly I just wanna have a some fun. My hand wraps the cup - leading Monty to nod at me with a devilish grin. It’s hard to even put the drink in my mouth with the stench, but I chug it anyway. “Shit,” he laughs ‘impressed’. “Fuck that’s so gross,” I cover my mouth with my hand trying not to urge. “I’ll take another one,” I add.

After the first cup, I was already tipsy. And that shit was like half full. So after my next full cup I was pretty drunk already. Which is exactly what I needed. “I thought it was gross?” He laughs as he notices me going through my fresh cup quite fast. I respond with a shrug. “It’s growing on me,” I go to grab him on the shoulder, but I miss, making me stumble forwards. Two hands latch on under my forearm steadying me upright. “Shit,” his chuckle is quite cute- NO. I don’t mean that. I don’t know why that just popped into my head. My finger begin to stroke his arms. That needs to stop. Apart from the music and the screaming and the ‘fun’ going on around us, it was silent. It was the first time I looked into his eyes for more than a quick glance. And unfortunately I’ve just finished another cup of strong ass liquor. “I feel like I wanna kiss you,” I blurt out, my hands immediately cover my mouth. Nothing else can slip out. “Sorry,” I giggle. “I’m just lonely,” oh my god Y/N SHUT UP! “You’re not lonely Y/N, you have a boyfriend.” My mind and mouth start working faster. “Boyfriend? Y/BF/N doesn’t even fucking touch me- shit,” I hush myself.

Next thing I know is I’m being guided out of Bryce’s house. “I’ll take you home,” he breathes. I frown at him. “Driving drunk is dangerous Montgomery don’t you know this.” The smile on his face appears so faintly, and it’s unreadable. Especially in my current state. “You pinched my drink. Did you see me have another one?” No. No I didn’t. Why didn’t he? “Take my car then, and I can’t go home.”

We get to Monty’s, but I don’t realise where I am until I’m inside. “This isn’t what I meant...” I huff. He throws off his Liberty jacket and kicks his shoes in a corner. “You can sleep in my bed,” he hooks his arm under mine to walk me to the bedroom. Hang on. “I have a boyfriend Monty, so no sex,” my hand goes on his chest as a warning. “I’ll try not to fuck you.” At this time, that was good enough for me. It shouldn’t be. Ever. “I appreciate that,” I fall into his bed - which was automatically the comfiest bed I’ve ever laid on. Suddenly my shoes are off and I’m pretty much tucked in. “It’s just hit me,” I sit up too fast, making my head spin. “I don’t know what’s gone on in this bed,” my stomach starts to turn. “You can only imagine,” he shrugs. And suddenly I’m offended? Just go to sleep Y/N.

The next morning

I wake up fully aware of what went on last night, and frankly embarrassed. Not embarrassed that I flirted with Monty. Not even that I’ve ended up at his place in his bed. I just feel guilty. Like I cheated? But I know I didn’t. I shouldn’t of done what I did, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Did I? I walk out of the bedroom, and notice Monty in the kitchen boiling the kettle. “Good morning, coffee?” I shake my head at him with a smile. “Thank you, for last night by the way. My parents would’ve killed me,” I let out a small laugh before tying my hair up in a ponytail with a spare hairband on my wrist. Glancing up to the clock on the wall, I sigh massively. “Shit, I should probably get home. I can drop you to Bryce’s to get your car if you’d like?” I offer. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later.”

Getting myself to school on time was no problem, but as soon as I entered the building it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. Until I see him. “Hey! How was your night?” Y/BF/N kisses my forehead, not my lips. “It was alright, I drank a little too much to be honest,” we begin walking down the corridor. As cringe as it sounds, all I wanted was him to hold my hand. Is it that hard? Really? “I bet your parents flipped then,” he chuckles. This is it. I have no reason to lie - really. I didn’t do anything wrong. But it sounds wrong. “Actually, I-“ I pause. “I stayed at Jess’ so they don’t know,” I watch as he nods. His facial expression immediately looks relieved. “Jess told me, I just wanted to make sure.” My heart stops at his response. What the fuck does that mean? He asked Jess before asking me? That’s not right? Yet I say nothing... because I can’t find a reason to.

It’s that time again. That one free period. I’m expecting Monty at any moment now. I hate to say it but I quite look forward to it. It’s somewhat a breath of fresh air. “I was wondering when you’d appear,” I smile as he sits himself in his seat. Going quiet, I swirl my fruit around the pot with a fork. “Are you okay?” His face serious. I take a breath. “I wanted to apologise for last night actually. I shouldn’t of said what I said,” I dodge his gaze, which is extremely hard. The silence remains, but only for a second. “Did you mean it?” I could play dumb and be like ‘mean what’ but I know. It’s been running on loop for the past 16 hours. “It doesn’t matter whether I meant it or not. I have a boyfriend.” “So you did?” He smirks. I’m not gonna mention the effect of the smirk. I guess you can imagine. I let a small smile appear at the side of my face. “Maybe...” sober flirting is NOT okay Y/N! I try to remind myself over and over but it’s so tempting. My heart suddenly sinks. “Can I ask you something? I want a serious answer,” his eyes widen, yet he still nods. “Is it odd that my boyfriend asked Jess where I was last night, then asked me to double check?” His eyebrows raise. “He was trying to catch you out. That’s a bit-“ “I know.” Control your breathing Y/N. I start to feel extra heavy on my heart, which means I’m probably about 30 seconds away from breaking down. “He’s never been like that before,” I mutter. “Y/N. You need to realise that I’m probably more in love with you than he is,” my head shoots up, making him cough. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat; it actually skipped about 17. “Don’t say shit like that Montgomery- he’s never even said it,” I laugh to break the awkwardness. “You’ve been dating for ages Y/N. You deserve better than that, always.” I watch as he lifts himself out of his seat. “Monty-“ I try and stop him. “I need to go, I’ll text you.”

Several sentences run on loop through my head for the rest of the day. Every breath that exited Monty’s mouth was just - confusing. Shoving my head in my locker, a lot like I see Clay doing a lot, seems just like the escape I need. Except it’s not an escape. I’m still in this shit hole. “Hey!” I get poked in my side gently by Y/BF/N. It’s been about an hour and a half since I spoke to Monty. So it’s been an hour and a half of me working myself. And right now I’m pretty fucking angry. He catches me roll my eyes. “Honestly, Y/BF/N, I wouldn’t wanna talk to me right now,” I warn him, as my heart starts to race faster and faster the more I look up at him. “What’s this about then?” A chuckle leaves his lips, and I contain as much as I can. “Maybe the fact that you don’t fucking trust me,” although I don’t think he should trust me, he has no reason to not. “Who said that?” He’s such a nice guy. I swear he is. I don’t wanna hurt him. “You!” I raise my voice but take a breath before continuing. ‘When you asked Jess where I stayed last night,” it’s almost a whisper. He lets out a big sigh. “I know what those guys are like.” Those guys. Everyone knows what most of those guys are like. Some of those guys are nice, to me at least. And some of those guys are Scott and Monty. That’s pretty much it. “And me? You don’t know what I’m like?” In the corner of my eye I see Monty laughing with Bryce, Zach, and Scott. A sudden urge comes over me to end this conversation. “Look, maybe we need some space,” I lie. As if we need more space. “Y/N,” his arm wraps around my forearm. The sad truth is that’s the most action I’ve got in a long ass time. “I’ll ring you tonight, I need to go.” So I close my locker, turn around, and catch Monty’s eye before walking out of school.

Refusing Jess’ offer to drive me home, I just think and pretty much talk to myself all the way to my house. I’m lost. Not actually physically lost, but I am lost. I’m only bought back to reality when my phone dings.

‘Really Y/N?’ - Y/BF/N ❤️

I can’t help but roll my eyes. This is what I have to do to get attention from my own boyfriend? No apology, because he hasn’t done anything wrong. He could say ‘let’s talk about it’. Why would he say that though? I go to text him back but my phone starts to ring.

“And what do you want Monty?” I smile down the phone. I’m very glad I’m on my own right now. “I was just seeing if you’re alright.” I sigh at his words. To think that’s all I want Y/BF/N to say. To show some affection! That would be nice. But Y/BF/N isn’t Monty. “I guess so. I’ve just got home.” He begins to talk about some random ass shit - stuff we wouldn’t usually talk about - while I unlock the front door to my house. Throwing my bag down on my bedroom floor, I get a text. Damn. Why am I so popular today? “Why has Bryce just texted me?” I laugh, mostly to myself. “He’s probably trying to get you to come to his house party tonight.” I freeze. “Wasn’t there-“ “Yeah, but his parents are out of town for a few days I think,” he sounds unimpressed. Monty? Bryce’s best friend? Is sounding unimpressed with Bryce’s actions? That’s a first. “Why’d you sound like that?” “I told him not to text you. Don’t let him pressure you into it,” it’s as if Monty knew every word that would make me like him more, more than I should. “I really enjoyed myself you know, I don’t think I mentioned that,” I admit, and silence falls across the line for seconds that feel like minutes. Then appears a cough. “Well, in that case, I’ll pick you up. If you want that is.” I can only read Monty’s face at the best of times, so trying to judge his voice is a fat ass struggle. “It’s-“ My body wanted to use the ‘it’s a date’ line. THAT would be embarrassing. “Okay then.”

Clothing. Such a funny thing. When it comes to Y/BF/N I find myself not really caring what I wear, so I feel somewhat guilty for caring now. ‘It’s a party’ is an excuse, but I’d be lying. He’s never shown much interest unfortunately. So here I am, rummaging frantically through my wardrobe and drawers to find something cute. I find a dress, that is probably a bit short, but ‘it’s a party’. Should I curl my hair? No. That looks like too much effort. But... no. I decide just to brush it. With a knock on the door, my head shoots to the clock on my wall. 8pm?! Shit. My legs and my heart speed up drastically and I hear my mum answer the door. Fuck no.

I walk downstairs and witness the embrace between Monty and my mother. “Ah Y/N, I was just meeting...” my mum pauses and gazed at me in hint of ‘what’s this guy’s name?’ “Monty,” I sigh. I press my lips together to smile towards them both. “It’s so nice to meet you,” if there’s one thing you should know about my mum is that she’s very touchy. I would’ve warned Monty, but I hadn’t quite imagined them meeting yet - or at all really. She shakes his hand. I cough while I slip my shoes on, which are trainers so I guess they kill the dress vibe. I don’t care. Once they’re on, my mission is to leave. I need to. I know what she’s like. “Alright, I’ll see you later!” I give my mum a hug and open the front door as fast as I can. “Please come in quietly. It was nice to finally meet you Monty! I’ve been waiting to meet Y/N boyfriend for a long time now.” “Alright bye!” I rush. Fuck.

“I’m sorry about that,” I laugh as I throw myself in the passenger seat. The smile on his face is very comforting. “Nah it’s cool, I’d love to have a mum like that,” my heart sinks slightly. I’m not 100% sure what that means, but it’s definitely not positive. “Y/N.” Is all he says. “About Y/BF/N-“ “I know.” I stop him. Thanks mum. The engine finally starts, and we’re off, and I realise that I’m off to a party with Monty. I don’t think this looks very good.

A drink is pretty much thrown at me as soon as I walk in the house. It’s a lot like deja vu, except I’ve appeared with Monty today. Shit. I shouldn’t be here. My eyes lay on Jess. “Give me a sec,” I say, and wonder over to my best friend. Her arms wrap around me, squeezing me as if we haven’t seen each other in weeks. We chat about some random shit until it must sink in. “Wait... did you come with Monty?” She asks thick with confusion. “I did...” I say slowly. “Does it look bad?” I ask. I ask only because I know she’ll be honest. “A little, but honestly fuck Y/BF/N!” My jaw drops with a smile. “I mean it! He’s a nice guy and all, but he’s pretty shit to you,” she shrugs and chugs the rest of her drink. “At least Monty is shit to everyone but you.”

Wishing Jess never said those words, I find myself hung up on them as I hang out with the guy. I know Monty isn’t the nicest person to everyone, but when I speak to him I don’t care. Should I? I feel like I should. I take a sip of my drink, which isn’t a mix of everything this time, while I listen to Scott. He’s one of those guys that you just want as your best friend. I laugh at the funny thing he said. I’d mention it, but I don’t remember as I notice Monty calling me over to him with his hand.

Finishing up my conversation with Scott, I follow Monty outside. The sky beams clear. Not a star in sight. “Are you cold?” He asks. It’s also not warm, but it isn’t cold either. I say no, slightly afraid of how I’d have to act if he offered his jacket. “I haven’t seen much of you,” I’m unsure of what to say so I say that. It’s never awkward with us, but I don’t trust myself anymore. Why should Y/BF/N trust me when I don’t even trust me? “Awe did you miss me?” He nudges me with a gleaming smile. I stop myself from smiling as the guilt starts to flood in. “Y/N-“ “I’m fine. It’s just...” “Y/BF/N,” he interrupts. I let out a short awkward laugh. Sigh. “I feel like talking about him with you will make things odd between us,” I gesture Monty and I. “And that’s wrong.” “It’s okay-“ “it’s not though,” tears - for some weird reason - start to form in my eyes. Blinking reduces the watering. That would be embarrassing. “He’s my boyfriend,” I let out in a whisper. “He’s a shit boyfriend if you ask me,” Monty huffs. Although I somewhat agree, Monty’s words stress me out a little. The truth hurts, and the fact that Monty is the only person to tell me that (other than Jess) is annoying. “Well I didn’t ask,” I didn’t want to snap at him, and my tone was too soft for it to. If anything I sounded pathetic. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says OUT OF NOWHERE. “Wha-“ I’m stopped by his lips. Lips so soft and sweet and just... perfect. His lips on mine, his fingers on his right hand tilting my chin up slightly. I’m truly swept away. My right hand goes up to the side of his face to keep his lips on mine for a little longer - and then I realise what I’m doing. Shit. I’m unsure of what to do as I pull away, so I just become completely speechless. Our eyes lock for 5 seconds at the most. Then I find myself running away.

“Woah, are you okay?” Hands go on my shoulder. More specifically, Scott’s hands, when he stops me in my tracks. “Fuck,” I let out in a breath. “Is there anywhere I can just go to breathe a second?” He walks me to a spare bedroom which is very clearly one of a few. I’m prepared to be by myself, but Scott takes a seat on the bed. My own fingers spread through my hair in a stressed motion. “I just kissed Monty,” Scott’s facial expression doesn’t change. I realise that this is Scott, and I shouldn’t be talking to him about this, but it’s also Scott - the actual nice guy. “And..?” He shrugs, shoving some small snack food in his mouth. “And I shouldn’t have.” “Do you have a boyfriend or something?” I snap my head to Scott after his words. “Y/BF/N..?” I ask slowly, and his eyes widen. “What, really? I thought he was gay,” I can’t help but crack a smile for a very short second. “Scott...” I shake my head. Honestly I’m just thankful Scott’s the way he is. How did he just lighten the mood with that? “I know I shouldn’t pry but he doesn’t really treat you in that way,” he pauses. “From what I’ve seen of course.” Oh of course. “Look Scott, I appreciate this but can you give me a second to be by myself?” I ask as nicely as I can. “Oh shit, yeah of course. Sorry,” he chuckles, and stands. “What do you want me to tell Monty?” He turns before he leaves the room. “Anything, but don’t tell him I’m up here please.” He closes the door behind him.

I pace the floor up and down approximately 50 times before Monty walks through the door. My heart stops. “I told Scott-“ “I know, but he’s my best friend Y/N,” he closes the door gently behind him, but he doesn’t enter the room fully. Only staying by the door. As if waiting for some sort of permission, I watch as he twiddles his fingers. “You shouldn’t of kissed me Monty,” I sigh. A step forward is taken by the boy in front of me. “I’m really sorry,” to be able to feel the apology from Montgomery De La Cruz is truly something. I’ve never seen him like this. I hate how much I like it. “You know I have a boyfriend, and you did it anyway,” Monty avoids my gaze at him, looking at the ground instead. Or the ceiling. Or the wall. “I just thought-“ “I know what you thought.” I stop him. I want him him to leave, but the thought of him leaving me right now was just heartbreaking. A few more steps are taken. “It’s unfair. It’s unfair on Y/BF/N, and you. And me.” When his eyes finally look at me - not at anything but - I just knew. The feeling of needing someone has never felt so prominent to me. So I act on it. My hands reach up to his head, I lift myself onto my tip toes, and pull his lips down to mine. His hands are gently caressing my waist within seconds. My legs lead us towards the bed. The feeling of his body slowly sitting down shouldn’t of been a cue for my body to straddle him, but I do. And then the make out becomes a bit more full on. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. I should be regretting this, but it’s actually perfect. The way he slides his tongue into my mouth, and the way his hands are slowly making their way lower down my body, it’s a different feeling. In this moment, I’m starting to realise how full I feel around him, and how almost utterly empty I feel otherwise. I let out a light moan as his hand reach my ass and move me - creating that friction feeling I’ve been missing. The smirk I felt under our kiss was adorable. I didn’t even need to see it, although I’m thankful I didn’t. This boy doesn’t need to wrap me around his finger any tighter.

My hands move themselves to the bottom of his tee, and that’s when I freeze. I break our lips and balance my forehead on his. Heavy breathes leave my mouth. “I’m sorry, I just-“ I pause to breathe and think carefully about my words. “I don’t wanna stop but I think I need to sort some shit out,” he nods underneath me, but he says absolutely nothing. This is not where my guilt should be. “I’m just a bad enough person already as it is,” I let out a chuckle once I see the side of his mouth turn up slightly. “Want me to drive you home?” I smile sympathetically at his words. His voice so soft. I hold the sides of his face and smooth his cheeks for a few seconds. His hand holds over mine, takes it, and kisses it. Blush. “Okay, let’s leave now,” I laugh, embarrassed of the hold he has over me.

Midday the next day

Since there was almost no drinking and definitely no drugs taken on my part, my head should be fine. But my head is FUCKED. Do I feel guilty? I feel guilty about leaving Monty last night, not Y/BF/N. And that’s making me feel guilty. So it’s about 7am and I’m walking to school. I hardly slept, I just thought the rest of the night. When I did finally fall asleep, I dreamt about Monty and how perfect last night was despite everything. I’m only walking to pass time. Driving would be way too quick. Although, my plan to have my mission planned by the time I get there, is a mission failed already. A 30 minute walk and nothing. Fuck.

In a crowd of people, I automatically spot 4 people. Monty and Scott are the first two, then Jess, and then Y/BF/N. My paranoia goes straight to ‘Monty’s told Scott and Scott’s told everyone else’, but I’ve never seen Scott or Monty like that. I know they’ve done it though. That makes me nervous. I go straight to Jess. She always knows what to say. “Hey... Jess,” I sigh. Usually me and Jess get lost in ourselves and ignore a lot of the noise around us, but not today. Not for me. Eyes were on me, even if they weren’t actually. “Are you- oh Y/N,” her eyes hint to my left. Y/BF/N. “That’s my cue to leave,” her words leave as does she. Thanks a lot. “We need to talk.” He knows.

We walk outside just around the corner. It’s not as if we’re in private. Nothing is private here. “We need to talk about yesterday,” he looks me dead in the eyes, which is quite intimidating. I’m such a shitty person. “I thought about it, and I understand why you acted the way you did.” His words sting. There’s nothing I can do. Admitting it out loud is so frightening so I say nothing still. He sighs. “The silent treatment? Really? You overreacted about me asking Jess,” he rolls his eyes at me. My gut goes from feeling sick, to really fucking angry. “Wow okay,” I let out in an angry mumble. “But I am sorry. I should’ve just asked you, and not Jess,” my eyebrows raise at his apology. “You’re a dickhead,” is all I can get out. My legs try to walk me away, but his hand clutch my wrist. “I’m trying to fix this,” his words, although exactly what I wanted to hear, were quite harshly spat at me as his grip grows tighter. “I think we need to be done.” Did I actually just say that? I’ve kept that to myself for too long. He lets my arm fall from his grip. I’ve never seen him like this. “You’re not breaking up with me, you’re gonna regret that.” The guy I watch strop away is not the guy I know? Who is that?

The bell rang about 10 minutes after Y/BF/N walked away, but I only just walk myself into the building. I find the guy I actually don’t mind bumping into leaning again my locker. “Hey Monty,” his smile makes me smile, which is so gross I know. “Are you okay?” He asks, nodding towards outside. “Yeah, I just, I’m so confused,” when I light my hand up to cup my forehead, I notice - as does Monty - the finger marks around my wrist. They’re ever so faint, but they’re there. “He tried to stop me walking away, it’s no big deal,” I say to his eyes. The facial expression was nothing I��d seen before. “Honestly, it’s nothing,” my right hand reaches up to his face to cup his cheek, then I realise where we are. “What did he say?” He asks. I wonder why he cares so much. It’s really attractive. “Can we talk about it later?” I ask, and his slow nod is extremely comforting. “Do you wanna ditch?” A wide smile spread across his face. “Monty...” I whisper, reciprocating the same expression. My back slowly flattens against the lockers neighbouring mine as his body gets closer to mine. “I think we should ditch,” he says again once his body is gently touching mine. Imagine just one person comes out of class right now. We definitely shouldn’t, but I really want to. “Okay,” I whisper, nibbling the inside of my lip. His hand slips gently into mine and he pulls me out of the shitty school. I’m a terrible person.

It’s as if it’s a whole other world with Monty. I can’t describe it fully, because I don’t fully understand it myself, but I got lost in him. “Where are we going then?” He asks about 5 minutes into driving. I raise my eyebrows towards him with a fat smile on my face. “You’re the one who said we should ditch!” He just shrugs. I face forwards, but I catch him smirk at me in the corner of my eye whilst scanning me briefly up and down. This guy is too attractive. “I guess we can go to mine, it should be empty.”

I unlock the door to an empty house. Like the gentleman he is, he slips his shoes off just to the side. “What shall we do?” He asks with bright eyes. “Hungry?” His response is obviously.

We decide to make some cakes - which isn’t exactly what I mean by food but it’s a lot nicer anyway. By ‘we’ I mean me. I weigh out all the ingredients while he just observes. “Are you gonna help?” I ask with a slight chuckle. “I’m actually alright just watching you,” he bites his lip after his words. “That’s creepy Montgomery.” “Hearing you say my full name turns me on,” my face goes from normal to very red. His face remains serious too, other than a smirk forming slowly. I ignore him (as much as I can) and go back to pouring the ingredient into one bowl and mixing. It only takes seconds before I feel his body directly behind mine. I feel as his fingers creep towards my waist, and his head slowly sinking to my level. I refuse to get distracted by him and continue mixing, and his lips proceed to my neck. Holy shit. He kisses it once, then twice, then an open mouth one. As he begins sucking and nibbling, my hand (as if a reflex) goes to the back of his head. I spin myself to face him. My eyes scan him as I breathe slightly heavier than usual. A few seconds of silence. “Fuck you,” is all I can whisper before wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. He slides the bowl from behind me and lifts me onto the counter. Although his body is as close as it can be right now, it remains not close enough. Our tongues battle and glide through each other’s mouths. It takes no time for me to realise how much I need him. I’ve been fooling myself all this time. When I grab the bottom of his shirt, this time I remove it as fast as I can. Wow. I take a second to absorb it all it. “It’s rude to stare,” he grunts, his hands smoothing my thighs up and down slowly. I look down at them, and look back up to his eyes. The sensation going through my body was phenomenal. He hasn’t even touched me yet. I grab the top of his trousers and pull him closer to me. Starting from his lips, I lay kisses down. Across to his cheek, down to his neck, and a few down his chest. I feel his heartbeat become irregular. The most attractive thing in the moment was the very apparent wait for the okay. His eyes scan my body, just like I did, except he has nothing to admire. Me on the other hand? Wow. The only signal I can send him is by unbuckling his belt. A sort-of glow forms in his eyes before finally moving.

My thong gets dropped on the floor near by. The guilt comes from me wearing my favourite underwear today, but I now have nothing to feel guilty about. Well... not this. I want to be here. I watch as he kneels down to floor, his face opposite my heat. Desperate for his touch. The breath that left his mouth became more and more fierce as he came close and closer, before finally making contact. His mouth wraps around my clit. I send my head back and my hand pushes to the back of his head once again. “Oh shit,” I breathe out in a moan. His hands wrap around my thighs, pulling my body closer to his mouth. My moans try to remain retained, which was a lot harder than I imagined. I just moan louder and louder ad he continues eating me out. As his tongue laps all over, I already feel like letting go. Not yet. I pull him up, shutting his confused look up with my mouth on his. My hands fumble at his belt again, but his large hands stop mine in their tracks. He pulls his lips off mine, our noses still keeping contact. “I need you,” I whisper. I feel as a deep breath leaves his mouth onto mine. “Trust me, I need you. But not here,” and with that he picks me up with one arm under my knees and the other hooked under my arms. As he somehow starts carrying me up the stairs, I get caught up in the moment. “Shit it’s like we just got married,” I smile and chuckle to show I’m joking. The smirk, the eyes, the everything on his face. “I’ll marry you,” I collapse my head on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. “Fuck,” I whisper, lifting my head and pushing my lips on his when we get to the top.

Being thrown on my own bed is the single most attractive thing I’ve ever experienced. He kneels between my slightly spread legs. Sitting up, I attach my lips to his chest, kissing ball the way up to finally being back on his lips. The kiss pulls his body down onto mine. The stupid belt is finally removed and I start to pull his trousers down and off. Naked. Montgomery De La Cruz is knelt slightly in front of me putting a condom on his dick while I shuffle in under my covers. I didn’t think we’d get here. Well... not this soon. “I thought staring was creepy,” his voice speaks, low and sexy. I wish the smirk wasn’t so natural to him. Most guys do it and it’s not it at all. He does it and... “No. Saying you were fine watching me was creepy. I’m just- admiring?” I suck in my bottom lip, nibbling at it just a little for him to notice. “Okay I’ll let you off,” he throws the covers over him, his face coming extremely close to mine yet not touching. My legs, as if by reflex, spread a little more when his tip brushes against the inside of my thigh. My heart races more. “If you wanna stop just tell me,” is the only thing he could’ve said to both calm me and get me more flustered inside. I nod. He starts to enter himself inside me - quite slowly and carefully - stopping until I give him another nod. Although I’m not a virgin, the discomfort was still there a bit. I cup his face with my hand, stroking his cheek with my thumb. I trail it down to his lips where he kisses it once. He freezes inside me for a few seconds once his length is fully inside me. “Okay,” I nod, pulling his face down onto mine before he pulls out slowly to push back in. I try not to moan already. He slips his tongue into my mouth, swirling and crashing it with mine mid moan. His lips kiss down to my chin, which is when his hand lifts my leg up and out. As my breathing hitches more, nibbles go across my neck to my ear. Woah. He takes my ear lobe between his teeth, pulling it down. That’s something I’ve never felt before. “Moan for me,” pillow talk is another thing I’ve never experienced, which leads me to grunt rather loudly. Mid-moan his lips reattach themselves to mine. I let my hands grip his back. My aim was to pull him closer to me, but all I do is scratch down his back. At first I feel bad, then I hear the moan from Monty that followed. That was me done. “Fuck,” I let out in his mouth. The pace is increased more, my arms wrap around his neck - almost hugging him into me. A hand grips my waist as if to say ‘I know you’re close’. I am. I so am. Holding back was in my plans. I spread my fingers through his hair as I begin to let go. “Monty,” I squeak between our lips. A release I’ve been waiting for, with the guy I think I’ve been needing. Once again, Monty’s thrusts increase one last time, this time for his own climax. The twitch inside me finished my frenzy around him. All that was left between us was sweat and heavy breathing.

I lay, my head on his chest, with his arm thrown around me like in the movies. The fingers on our hands intertwined together in an unsolvable puzzle. Chatting as if it was normal what we just did. It is normal. It feels normal. Which is the weird thing. “When’s your mum coming home?” He asks, placing a kiss on the back of my hand. “She’s working a night shift tonight, so you can stay if you’d like,” those aren’t exactly the words I wanted to say. “I should probably go home, my dad-“ “Please stay. I want you to stay,” I stop him with the words I truly meant to stay. Imagine staying overnight with a boy? True heaven I imagine. Especially since that guy is Monty. I tilt my head up to look him in the eyes. His lips, still soft and kind, place themselves on my lips again after letting out an ‘okay’. And suddenly it’s another makeout session. I know exactly where this is going to go. I’m gonna - if I’m not already - fall too hard for Montgomery De La Cruz.

[hutchingsb]

fake political trophy husband AU for diego & hutch 👌😉

Diego Rodríguez García is a young upstart and the name on everyone’s lips. He’s got connections, he’s got wit, and he has the ability to put a crowd at ease. He came out as bisexual two weeks ago to further his campaign, to the shock and awe of the public. But more than anything else, he’s got the polls on his side. He’s going to win.It’s all Momma needs, a martini clutched in her hand, to latch onto an idea.

She stirs her martini slowly as if it’s necessary and not that she’s buying her time to make this whole thing stick. Hutch doesn’t mention that it’s not strictly necessary to convince him, he knows he doesn’t really have a say in the matter. The Booth-Bakers’ image has been falling. Small scandals build up, and the gossip never really goes away. Momma needs something to change, her ambitions not yet sated. Her campaign is going well, but she needs that push. These are hard times, and no one is completely sold on Mrs. Booth-Baker’s reelection as governor, not now that she’s newly without her husband.

“Don’t you think Mr. García could use some additional funding?” 

Momma takes a sip of her drink through her smirk. Hutch sighs. He owes her, he knows. After the stunt he pulled when his father first left, he owes her something good; something she can use.

“When do I meet him?”

Later that night, while he lies in bed, he will think, ‘it doesn’t have to be real.’

                                                             - 

Momma moves quickly because there is no time to waste when you’re down in the polls. She reaches out to the García campaign, offers them a fundraiser – hosted, of course, by the Booth-Bakers, for the charity of Mr. García’s choice. They would be fools to turn it down, and Hutch does not take the up-and-coming congress hopeful for a fool.

The campaign’s formal reply is an immediate yes, and Momma makes the arrangements. The woman’s connections know no bounds.

Two days later, Hutch gets a text that Diego (and when the fuck did it become Diego, and not Mr. García) is interested in talking about a mutually beneficial “business” deal, and Hutch tries not to throw his phone across the room and go back to sleep. But there’s a knock on his front door a couple minutes later, and he knows it’s some immaculate suit that his mother has picked out because it will match the color of Diego’s eyes, or some shit. He begrudgingly opens the door. At least he can pretend to entertain himself with work before this hellish night begins.

                                                              -

The suit is perfect. For all her downfalls, his mother knows style, and Hutch feels like he belongs at this party. Like he, too, is a political player, and not just some research analyst for his mother. He holds his own for a while, drifting between senators, the senators’ wives, and journalists. They’re all waiting for something big and newsworthy. And Hutch sighs, because it’s not a something, it’s a someone. And when the door opens and Diego Rodríguez García finally steps through the door, the whole party halts, waiting.

Except for Momma. She waits for nothing.

She is by Diego’s elbow in seconds, handing him a glass of something and talking to him quickly, quietly smiling as she gracefully manhandles him around the crowd. The whispers begin and Hutch suddenly feels like downing the glass of whiskey that he’s had for hours now. 

It takes her some time, before his Momma makes her way towards him. But the buzz in the room starts to intensify, and Hutch does his best not to fidget.

“Mr. García, have you met my son?” Momma coos loud enough for those around to hear. She knows full well that Mr. García has not.“I can’t say I have had the pleasure.” Diego’s tone is pleasant, but his smile is genuine when he turns to Hutch with an outstretched hand. Hutch grabs the man’s hand and mimics his smile. Diego’s hand is warm and strong, and not even the least bit sweaty. His smile is perfect, white teeth and smile lines. His eyes are a dark brown and Hutch realizes that, once again, he was right. His dark navy blue suit compliments the future congressman’s eyes to a T.He truly hates his mother.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Hutch lets his voice be just loud enough to be heard. He may not be a player, but he knows how to play the game. Diego’s smile becomes guarded again as Momma lays a hand on the other man’s upper arm.

Hutch spends the evening by Diego’s side, at his mother’s demands. But he finds he quite likes it. He’s a quick study. Starts to pick up on when Diego’s tone gets a little too tense, or when his laugh almost sounds genuine. At the end of the evening, Diego slips Hutch his number and leaves him with a gentle squeeze of the arm.And Hutch cannot help but think oh God, I’m so fucked.

                                                              -

Diego texts him two days later, suggesting a lunch. Something public, in the middle of the daytime. Hutch likes the little bistro he’s recommended but doesn’t add that in his text back. Sends a simple sure, instead. Diego comes back with a time, and just like that, it’s a date.

                                                             -

The lunch itself sneaks up on him. He lets Clover parade him in different outfits through their shared apartment. She keeps snapping pics of him and texting them to Mar; loudly explaining that he has to look good if he’s going to be on the cover of whatever gossip rag his Momma sells this story to. He hates her because he knows she’s right. He says as much, and she smirks at him. When the outfit is sufficient, she snaps one last picture and shoos him out the door.

“Good luck! Remember you shouldn’t put out on the first date.” 

He flips her the bird.

                                                            -

The conversation is easy, the food divine. Hutch, for all his nerves and fears, finds Diego incredibly easy to talk to. They talk about Diego’s career, his family, his childhood best friend. Hutch laughs at a story of Diego almost getting set on fire.Diego asks him about his work; how it is, living with Clover; what’s the last book he read.

For a brief second, Hutch can convince himself that this is a date. That Diego is genuinely interested in what he has to say. Time passes quickly, easily, and Hutch begins to savor the moments he makes Diego laugh – but it isn’t long until it all comes to a screeching halt. They pay the bill – or rather, Diego pays the bill – and, as they exit the bistro, he slips his hand into Hutch’s. And it’s then that Hutch sees her. The photographer is well disguised, likely to not cause so much disturbance as to be kicked out. His heart sinks a little as he remembers why this whole charade started in the first place.

Diego turns to him, lifts their joined hands to his mouth and plants one quick kiss on the back of Hutch’s hand. His heart lurches as he realizes with surprise just how dangerous of a player Diego is in this game, why Momma’s so fond of him in the first place.“I had a very nice time with you.” Hutch tries to force down his stupid smile at Diego’s words. (Later, he’ll tell Clover it was for the camera when she flashes him a shot of him looking particularly starstruck.)“Yeah, me too.”

As he walks away, hand stuffed in his pocket as if trying to physically distance himself from the offending member, he realizes that this is going to suck.He’s going to fall in love with this man.Diego will break his heart.

                                                           -

Momma greets him with a hug and a smile, which means good news.She doesn’t have a drink in her hand this time, which means great news.

She ushers her son in, herds him into the living room and then further still into her office. It’s more full than it usually is, papers and monitors cluttering the way from the door to her desk. Raine throws up a hand in greeting before he’s pulled back into work by Eric. Eric doesn’t acknowledge Hutch’s presence, but that’s not anything completely new. He bites back a sigh as his mother, with all her grace, flutters back over to him, a tablet in her hands. Eva must have handed it to her from over the desk.

“Look at these numbers,” she coos at him, and Hutch just nods approvingly. He knows he doesn’t need to speak. Not really.

“And for Mr. García as well.” Eric is by his side in a second, brandishing a different tablet.

“Hello to you too,” he mumbles quietly, and Eric flashes him a smile that’s got too many teeth in it.

He is shown numbers until it all bleeds together: projected wins, voter statistics, who might prompt Mrs. Booth-Baker’s reelection. It’s enough for Hutch to get the memo – he’s doing a good job, and more importantly, he should continue to fulfill it.

He pulls out his phone when he thinks no one is looking and whips out a quick text.

>> Have I ever mentioned I hate my mother’s choice in data analysts??

He shoves his phone in his back pocket quickly, as Eva approaches with a smile and yet more data. His phone buzzes almost immediately and he smiles.

>> Yes.>> On multiple occasions.>> But please do let me know what the grievance is today, I’m on the edge of my seat.

Texting Diego makes the evening go by faster, somehow. Hutch pretends he doesn’t realize that he’s never texted the man for anything other than planning outings before. It feels too new. Eva, the saint that she is, doesn’t comment on his goofy grin every time his phone buzzes, but her eyes sport a knowing look.

                                                           -

They are in the back-stretch of the campaign, and the tension that follows is palpable. Hutch can see how stress lives in Diego’s shoulders, how he fights more to keep his face happy and charming. When they’re alone, Diego slumps more. Lets his eyes close as he breathes.Hutch hurts for him. For all the stress Diego’s under, Hutch can do so little to help.

“There’s a party,” Diego starts, shooting an already sympathetic look towards Hutch. They are alone in his office – Lola is the only one still in the building, and she’s more than busy managing what could be the next big PR scandal (but won’t be). Hutch just nods. He knows his part by now. He is Diego’s date, the little bit of joy that his followers can latch onto and root for. Because really, who finds love in the middle of a campaign? “We don’t have to stay long…” Diego says, and Hutch realizes he’s tuned out most of what Diego’s been saying. He smiles, pats Diego’s hand where it rests on his arm. “It’s fine.” It feels like that’s all he can say at this point. All he’s been saying, because it is fine. It’s fine because Diego needs him and he’s asked. “Maybe it’ll even be fun.” They both laugh, and Hutch’s heart clings to the sound.

                                                          -

For the most part, the party is in fact fine. Mostly, Hutch entertains himself by shooting pictures of incredibly drunk senators to Mar and Clover. He’s lost Diego thirty minutes ago after he ducked out to grab them another round of drinks, and the alcohol has already provided him with a warm buzz. He stands to the side snickering at Mar’s latest reply, without Diego next to him, and he is a nobody. No one gives him a second glance.

He looks up only to spot Diego, all fine-tailored edges and welcoming smiles. Hutch offers him his drink, places a quick peck on the other man’s cheek. Under the mask of professionalism, Hutch can see something is off. He presses in closer to him, wraps his arm through Diego’s.

“You must have some sort of plan, right, Mr. García?” Hutch drags himself away from studying Diego to listen to the conversation at hand. “The girl was from your district, was she not?” And suddenly it clicks.

“We are working hard to help the police in their search for miss Tarry.” It’s a canned reply, something Hutch has helped Diego practice. Hutch hears the strain in the other man’s tone. His heart lurches. The stranger opens his mouth to speak again, something more insistent, and Hutch acts before he can stop himself.“I’m terribly sorry, but I think I need some air.” The reporter’s mouth snaps shut, shifting to form a thin smile, but Hutch doesn’t let the sincere apology drop from his features. He turns and tugs Diego along with him. “Babe– if you don’t mind.” And before Diego even has time to react, Hutch is pushing him out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” It’s just the two of them, and all pretences can be dropped. Diego’s shoulder slumps forward, and Hutch pulls the other man to him as the tension finally rushes out of Diego in a wave.Hutch pulls him towards another door, opening it with the hand that isn’t clutching Diego, and pulls the pair of them into a coat closet. He feels Diego breathing against his throat as the other man struggles to retain composure, and Hutch wants to scream that he doesn’t have to. He cannot do much for all the stress and pain he knows Diego feels, but he can do this. Let me do this.

It is quiet for a long time, in the dark of the closet, Diego resting against Hutch’s chest until finally, he pulls away. There is a pain in his eyes when he looks up to meet Hutch’s gaze. A broken sob catches in Diego’s throat as he speaks.“I didn’t do enough to save her.”

Hutch doesn’t know more of the story than what he’s heard on the news. Doesn’t know the part Diego’s played in the case of the missing girl. He didn’t want to push. Didn’t feel like it was his place to do so. He doesn’t fully recognize this version of Diego, this broken version with too many self-sabotaging things on the edge of his tongue.

Diego opens his mouth to speak again, and Hutch pushes in. Closes the distance between them to let their lips crash. He feels Diego freeze underneath his touch, but as Hutch brings his hands to fist into Diego’s hair, he softens. His mouth goes pliant and willing, and Hutch takes. 

He cannot do much for this version of Diego, but he can do this. He’s always been able to do this.

Hutch cannot stop the little moan that follows when Diego licks into his mouth. He pushes at the shoulders of Diego’s suit jacket until the other man gets the message and lets it slip to the floor. Hutch closes the gap again, slipping between Diego’s legs to press as much of his body against the other. He lets his teeth sink ever so gently into Diego’s bottom lip and sucks, and the gasp that follows is worth it. He can feel it in his gut, a new warmth that spreads through. He can do this. “Let me do this,” he whispers, biting down at the spot where Diego’s jaw meets his throat, earning him another gasp.

Hutch drops to his knees and smirks at the groan that accompanies it. A hand comes to lay on his head and scratches down, and Hutch pretends the mewl that comes out of him isn’t at all embarrassing. He hears him swallowing thickly, as he lets his own hands dance over the waistband of Diego’s slacks. He cannot help the wolfish grin that finds its way to his face. He glances up, seeking Diego’s approval, and he gets it with a small nod and a sigh, and Hutch thumbs open the button on Diego’s pants and slides them down.

He mouths at Diego’s hip bone, nips his teeth against the skin; runs his hands along the newly discovered territory of Diego’s thighs. He lets his lips ghost over the fabric separating him from Diego’s half hard-cock. Diego’s hips stutter forward, chasing the feeling, and Hutch lets his forearm stop the motion. When he looks up, Diego has his head thrown back against the wall, and he cannot stop himself from relishing the sight.

In one, slow pull, he pushes down the boxers, emboldened by a rare-found confidence. He lets his tongue drag over his own lips, before he lets them catch around the tip of Diego’s dick. There is a stunted sound that happens above, and a sharp scrape of dull fingernails over his scalp again– and Hutch can’t stop himself, he sinks down in one quick movement taking all of Diego into his mouth. It doesn’t take long after that. He clutches at Diego’s hips to steady himself as he begins to bob his head, the rhythm growing faster, the sounds dirtier. Diego has his hand in his mouth, biting down hard to stop from making too much noise. And his breathing is ragged, broken; a beautiful contrast to the earlier heartbreak.

Diego’s hands slip to Hutch’s neck as he swallows, a calculated move that earns him the moan he was looking for. Diego’s hands move to Hutch’s head, pushing him slightly. It’s a warning, Hutch knows, but he ignores it. Takes him deeper still, lets his throat tighten and flex around the intrusion. Diego comes with a broken sob.The sound is even better, this time.

                                                         -

The drive home is quiet, but not painfully so. Hutch cannot bring himself to look at Diego, only manages to shoot sideways glances from under his eyelashes. Diego does not look at him, either. The car stills in front of Hutch’s house, and he moves to undo his seatbelt. A hand stops him, Diego’s thumb and finger forming a loose circle around his wrist. “Thank you,” is all he says, letting his thumb shift to the pulse point on Hutch’s wrist. His heart jumps and he wonders if Diego can feel it. Hutch nods, no words able to form when he cannot take his eyes off of the point of contact between them. Diego squeezes once before he pulls his hand away, and the skin on Hutch’s wrist burns. He excuses himself from the car.

It still burns as he stands on the sidewalk, his hand holding his wrist, as the car speeds away into the night.

                                                        -

The room is buzzing with it: they’ve won. Hutch isn’t sure when he started thinking of himself as so involved.

The only one still working is Evan, frantically putting the finishing touches on Diego’s victory speech, while the rest open a bottle of champagne. Lola shoots them all a look, a warning that speaks to the fact that they still have an event after this and that no one is to get too drunk. Hutch is silently amazed how much she can portray with just one glance. The twins have four glasses between them already, and Hutch tries not to wince when he sees champagne pooling on the floor. Even Grey has come out from behind their computer with a drink in their hand. They deserve it; they’ve worked hard for this.

He’s caught up in the thrill of it all, sipping on his second glass, already feeling lightheaded, when Diego grabs his hand and pulls him along. Hutch laughs freely and follows, the alcohol already making him feel light and loose. He lets himself be guided, their fingers entwined, and Diego smiles, bright and happy. He doesn’t stop pulling until they’re both in Diego’s office and he’s so goddamn happy it hurts.

“We did it–” The way Diego’s voice hitches like it’s only just now settling in makes Hutch’s heart stop and start.“You did it,” he agrees, nodding as he smiles. And he cannot stop smiling. He meets the other man’s eye, and it’s like a tipping point. Diego pulls him closer, wraps his arms around him and sighs into the crook of his neck. He freezes for a moment, before he lets himself fall, soften; clenches his hands at the back of Diego’s finely pressed dress shirt, the fabric clutched in his fists.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” Diego whispers like it’s something for just the two of them. A confession. And for a second, Hutch believes him. Believes that Diego needed him, not just Momma’s money. “Thank you.” Diego pulls back, cups Hutch’s face with his hand. “Thank you,” he repeats, letting his thumb trail slowly over his cheek. Hutch tries not to gasp.

And then someone calls on Diego from outside, and he pulls away; out of the door and into the fanfare, and all Hutch can do is watch.

His traitorous brain supplies the rest for him. This is it, it sneers, this is the end of you being needed.

                                                       -

He’s still pining when Lola all but forces the group out of the door and into six matching Ubers. One day he’ll ask how she manages all this so effortlessly, but he knows he won’t get a true answer from her anyway. She’ll fix him with a look and a smile, maybe pat his arm.

He ends up sandwiched between Diego and Evan. They’re talking over him, pointing at the recently finished speech, and Evan has a pen in his hands. Diego keeps looking to Hutch for his consensus on something or the other, and all Hutch can do is nod and try not to focus on how Diego’s leg hasn’t stopped moving since they entered the car.

                                                      -

The speech ends to a deafening roar of applause, and Hutch has been smiling so damn much. But then Diego turns to look behind himself, searching the few members of his staff for something – someone. His eyes lock onto Hutch’s and he reaches out his hand, and Hutch is a fool because he takes it. Diego pulls him to his side and flashes those pearl-white teeth – and then he’s leaning in towards him, Diego’s lips finding Hutch’s own, and he parts his mouth and sighs into it, lets his eyes flutted closed; lets himself have this.

The hoots and hollers from the crowd amp up tenfold: he is the voice of the young LGTBQ+, now, and they came here in droves.

“And,” Diego turns to the mic, his face plastered with his Professional Smile, so different from the one he shared with Hutch in his office hours ago. “–I couldn’t have done it without this man.”

It’s the same sentiment from Diego’s officer earlier, but out here? For the consumption of these strangers? It feels wrong. It feels too much like an act. Hutch smiles, holding on to Diego for dear life, but his gut twists into something ugly and sad.

His parents played this game: Mr. Booth-Baker, the rock that stood behind Mrs. Booth-Baker; the two of them shining in their leading roles as a loving couple. But the world did not see them at home, his father, gone all hours, and his mother, drunk and crying when she thought Hutch had gone to bed.He told himself he would not become another pawn in this game. He would never let his mother use him as such. But it took mere seconds for Diego to unravel his resolve, and Hutch feels used. Raw. Broken.

And– fuck– in love.

The rest of the night goes on without much incident. But Hutch feels like he’s traveling through a fog. He feigns a migraine when Connor comments on his distance, and it’s easy enough – the champagne is already making his temples throb. He tries not to meet Diego’s eyes whenever the other man shoots him a quizzical look.

He excuses himself early, and doesn’t respond to Diego’s text.And if he curls into bed and tries not to cry, so be it.

                                                     -

Mar all but drags him out of bed. Clover must have called in reinforcements. Which is only fair, he muses. It’s been three months since Diego won his seat and Hutch has been useless ever since.Mar sits at the end of his bed scowling as he shuffles through his clothes, delaying the inevitable. “We’re going to The Last Drop, not your funeral,” she admonishes. She’s perfectly put together, but it looks effortless, as if she’s just rolled out of bed. Hutch has always been envious of her easy style.“I’m moving as fast as I can,” he whines, but it’s not believable.And, as if right on cue, Clover is at the door, “–No, you’re not.” She has her phone out in her hand. “I told Raine we would be there ten minutes ago, and if you make them wait I’m never forgiving you.” Hutch sighs and throws on a shirt Mar has tossed his way.

                                                    -

“So, you’re still pining right?” It’s Raine that breaks through his fog-addled thoughts, and Clover is outright laughing at him. He grimaces at her before turning back to Raine. “I’m not pining.” He grits his teeth as Clover laughs harder. Raine’s face twists in confusion.“I thought you guys were in love or something,” they manage, and if Clover wasn’t already doubled over, she would be by now.“Oh, they are,” Mar responds. She doesn’t even look up from her phone. She’s texting her new boyfriend, Sam, who was meant to meet them here later. She doesn’t even dignify Hutch’s scoff of disagreement. “But our friend Hutch here is a big fuckin’ idiot.”Raine nods knowingly, an oh falling from their lips. He’s known the Booth-Bakers for a while, working for Hutch’s mother. They know that to be true.“I did not come out to be belittled.” Hutch huffs, slinking down into his seat more.“Then maybe you should tell your fucking boyfriend how you feel.” Clover has stopped laughing to look at him pointedly.

Hutch sighs and takes a drink. Pointedly doesn’t say anything about Diego not being his boyfriend, not really anyway.

                                                   -

By the end of the night, he’s almost having fun. Almost. 

                                                  -

It’s the last event on the calendar. Hutch has been dreading the day as it approached, faster and faster. It’s a simple wrap-up interview, something to solidify Diego’s success story. To make it consumable for the masses. It will have no mention of the Booth-Baker money that helped finance his campaign, but it will have many a mention of Diego’s heartstopping romance that made the man seem so goddamn human during the whole campaign. Hutch has to come as a show of support: the gossip rags have more than noticed his recent lack of presence in Diego’s life.

The magazine is not a gossipy thing, but a legitimate paper and the journalist is good – DeSouza, Hutch thinks his name is. Momma vetted them all and picked this one, so he has that going for him. And he starts the interview off easy, makes a few passing jokes at Diego, asks him to call him Romeo. Hutch tries to stomach the jealousy he feels at the easy conversation that he so dearly misses. He’s been responding to Diego’s texts more, guilt after his night of drinking with Mar and Clover, but it isn’t the same.

“And what about your man?” Romeo laughs at the foolish wording at it, and Diego joins him. Hutch’s heart lurches forward in his chest.

“There is so much to say.” Diego is still laughing, and Hutch cannot help but feel like he’s being cut open. This is fate’s sick joke for agreeing with his mother’s meddling; he’s sure of it. “He stood by me through everything.” Diego searches behind the lights for Hutch’s eyes, finding them and smiling, big and true. “He’s the reason I’m here.” Hutch closes his eyes, and breathes. Tries to stop the flood of emotion, but he can’t. Not here, not now.He runs.

Diego catches his hand before he can truly escape. He’s only made it so far as the hallway anyway. Diego looks hurt and confused and apologetic all at once like he’s not quite sure what Hutch needs from him – and all Hutch can feel is his manic need to getaway. “What’s wrong?” Diego is still too calm, even as his voice hints at the distress under the surface.It stops Hutch dead in his tracks.

“How can you lie like that?” 

He wants desperately to be angry, to throw it into Diego’s face, but he can’t. He’s tired and heartsick and all he can manage is something that sounds so desperate he wants to hide.Diego looks at him with confusion, and then deep, heartbreaking understanding. His face softens into a gentle smile, the kind Hutch has only ever seen when they’re alone. “I’m not lying.” He tugs on Hutch’s hand, and Hutch gives in. Because he’s a fool, but… maybe he’s not a fool about this.“You weren’t lying?” he parrots back, and Diego chuckles softly, bringing a hand up to cup Hutch’s face.“No.” 

It’s all he needs to hear, he pushes forward catching Diego’s next laugh with his mouth. And he sighs. 

He’s a goddamn fool.

[fairyroses]

How Do I Make Gifs? - A Photoshop CC Giffing Tutorial 

(for @elektrawwf, and anyone else interested in how I make gifs I guess, lol) 

So, I feel like I should preface this by saying that I'm certainly no expert on this, nor am I a Professional Giffer™, but I’ve been making gifs for a few years now, and have developed a pretty standard system for doing so. Hopefully it works for you like it’s worked for me! :) 

Basic Tutorial Steps:

Step 1 - Recording the scene you want to gif

Step 2 - Importing, deleting, and cropping your gif frames

Step 3 - Adding adjustment layers

Step 4 - Resizing your gif and setting the frame delay

Step 5 - Converting and sharpening your gif

Step 6 - Trimming and saving your gif

BONUS STEP - Adding text (OPTIONAL)

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Programs Used/Needed:

- QuickTime Player

- Photoshop CC 2018

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The finished gif that I’ll be making:

This tutorial is VERY screenshot-heavy, so the rest of it will be below the cut. Happy giffing!

STEP 1 - Recording the scene you want to gif.

All gifs start as videos. I use the Screen Recording feature on QuickTime Player to create videos of whatever scenes I want to gif. If you have a Mac, you can find QuickTime in the Applications folder:

Right click, then select New Screen Recording. 

You can then play the scene you want to gif on your computer, and your screen with the video on it will be recorded. Hit the stop button when you want to end the recording, and then save the video. 

It’s best to not record more than a minute or two at a time - basically, just record the exact scene that you’re looking for - because the longer the video is, the harder it’ll be to select the portion of it that you need for giffing.

You can technically screen-record any type of video, but I (and most giffers) vastly prefer videos that are 1080p, which is the best kind of HD. That’s why I usually don’t gif things unless I can find them either on Netflix, Youtube (in HD) or the CW site (or NBC, CBS, whatever). There are definitely other (less legal) ways to get your hands on HD videos, but I’m just not super comfortable using those lol.

That being said, 720p videos are usually okay for smaller (268px-wide) gifs - they’re just less ideal (I wouldn’t really recommend using them to make 540px-wide gifs, but you can still technically do it).

STEP 2 - Importing, deleting, and cropping your gif frames.

Now that you have your video, you have to import it into Photoshop. Once you open Photoshop, you need to go to File > Import, then select Video Frames to Layers.

A window will pop up, where you can set the amount of frames that you want Photoshop to import, and select the exact section of the video that you want to import. Here are my settings:

The two little toggles below the video are meant to be dragged around, and you use them to section out the specific Range of the video that you want to turn into a gif. Once you have all of this set up to your liking, hit OK. 

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NOTE: The selection of Limit To Every 4 Frames is more my personal preference than anything else. If you want Really Smooth Gifs, then you can uncheck that box and simply import every single frame in your Selected Range. This is what High Quality Giffers always say to do. Unfortunately, while those gifs do end up really smooth, they also end up being really short, which I don’t particularly like. 

So basically, I’m personally willing to sacrifice some smoothness in favor of an increased gif length, but you do NOT have to do that if you don’t want to. Choose whichever option you like best - these Steps work no matter which one you do. (We’ll come back to this later though, once we get to setting the frame delay in Step 4). 

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Okay, back to the tutorial. 

Once the scene is imported, you can delete any extraneous frames at the beginning and end of the frame animation Timeline, which can be found at the bottom of the screen.

As you can see, I have the first 6 frames selected. Those are the ones I ended up deleting (among some others at the end of the Timeline).

You can also go to the Layers panel on the right, and delete the corresponding layers from there, once you’ve deleted the frames. This isn’t technically necessary, but it might help free up some computing space if you’re deleting a lot of frames. 

Next, you need to click the Selection Tool in the top left corner of the screen. Then, set your selection preferences (circled below) as follows:

Style: Fixed Ratio

Width: 540

Height: 250

This is specifically the ratio to set for a 540 x 250px sized gif, which are the dimensions of the example gif I’m making. If you want to place two gifs beside each other in a gifset, each gif needs to be 268px wide. (The heights can be whatever you want them to be.) 

Use the Selection Tool to select the area that you want to be your gif, and then go to Image > Crop. 

STEP 3 - Adding adjustment layers.

Now it’s time to make your gif look pretty™. For this part, you’ll be using the Adjustments panel above the Layers panel. 

Adjustments will affect all the layers below it, so you want to make sure that your adjustment layers are placed above all of your gif layers. 

These are the adjustment layers that I used for this specific gif, but they’re also just generally the same three adjustments that I use for every gif I make. (I also usually add a Hue/Saturation adjustment to my gifs, which I set to +15 Saturation, but since this scene was already so heavily saturated, it didn’t need it.)

Here are the specifications for the Brightness/Contrast and Levels adjustment layers:

Regarding the Curves adjustment layer (pictured below), if you click on the RGB dropdown menu, you can single out specific colors in order to color-correct the gif, which I did here (by removing a lot of extra reds and yellows).

While these are good general adjustment examples, just take note that the values pictured here won’t be exactly the same for every gif, and you need to toggle and play around with them to make every new gif look its best.

Here’s the example scene before any adjustments:

And here’s the scene after my adjustments:

STEP 4 - Resizing your gif and setting the frame delay.

To resize your gif, go to Image > Image Size, and then change the gif’s width (in this example, I change the gif’s width to 540px). 

As long as Resample is checked the you’re working with Pixels, the gif should resize properly. Hit OK.

Next, to change the Frame Delay of the gif (basically how fast it goes), look for this button in the right corner of your Timeline, then click it and Select All Frames.

Once all the frames are selected, you can hit one of the little downward arrows next to the 0.02 values, and select Other.

Now you can set your new frame delay. I always set my delay to 0.09 seconds, which produces gifs that are a bit slower than the Professional Gif Standard™. This is due to a combination of personal preference (I just like slower gifs) and an effort to maintain as much smoothness as possible, given how I choose to import my frames. 

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NOTE: Remember the NOTE from Step 2? Now, if you chose to import every frame, rather than “Every 4 Frames” like I do, then you should set your frame delay to 0.04. 

Doing so will produce a final gif that looks like this: 

Notice how this gif is smoother and faster, but also shorter than my example gif? Yeah. Like I said, whichever style of gif you choose to make is up to your own preference. 

STEP 5 - Converting and sharpening your gif.

You never quite realize how blurry a gif really is until you Sharpen it. To do this, you first need to convert your Timeline from a Frame Animation to a solid Timeline. You can do this by making sure all your frames are still selected, and then clicking the Convert to Timeline button in the bottom left corner of the Timeline.

Now your Timeline should look purple, like it does in the picture below. 

Next, you need to select all of your layers (MINUS the adjustment layers) on the right side of the screen. Once all of your layers are selected, go to Filter > Convert for Smart Filters.

Once your gif layers have been compressed into a Smart Object (see circle below), you can select Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen. 

The first time you select Smart Sharpen, you need to set all the parameters for it. But once you do that the first time, you shouldn’t have to set them again. Basically, make sure your window looks exactly like this one:

Then hit OK. 

You’re going to do this TWICE (so you’re going to end up with TWO Smart Sharpen layers below your Smart Object layer). Then, you need to click the button to the right of the top Smart Sharpen layer, and change the opacity of that layer to 30%. (Otherwise, your gif will be way over-sharpened.) 

STEP 6 - Trimming and saving your gif.

You’re almost done! It’s time to save your gif. 

To save a gif, you must go to File > Export > Save For Web (Legacy). 

However, this gif has a problem.

This number in the bottom left corner of the Save For Web window tells you the current size of your gif. As you can see, this gif’s size is currently 3.541 MB. That size wouldn’t be a problem if you were intending to upload this gif to Twitter, because Twitter has a gif size limit of 5 MB. 

Tumblr, however, only has a size limit of 3 MB. So, to get your gif to work on tumblr, you need to Trim it.

Trimming is the process of changing the length of a gif without actually deleting any part of it permanently. This gives you the freedom to edit your gif and pick the portion of it that you like best. 

You can easily trim your gif in the Timeline, by clicking the dragging the Gray Sliders at each end of it (see the arrows below). Wherever you leave the stoppers will become the new beginning and end of the gif. You can make this process more precise by using the Blue Slider (circled below) to choose where you want your stopper to go before you drag it there. 

The Timeline pictured here has already been trimmed. 

Trimming your gif will often require some trial and error. Whenever you want to check the length of your gif, simply go to Save For Web again and check the amount of MBs in your gif. (Click Cancel if your gif is still too big.)

Once your gif falls below 3 MB, you can finally save it!

The last thing you need to do before saving is change your Looping Options from Once to Forever in the bottom right corner of the window. Then, click Save.

You now officially have a finished gif! 

Mine looks like this: 

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BONUS STEP - Adding text  (OPTIONAL)

Now, I’ve just shown you how to make and save a gif. But what if you want to add text to that gif? I’ll show yow how to do that too.

First off, you should only add text after the rest of your gif is completely done and ready to be saved (basically, once you’ve already completed Steps 1-5). Then, before you save it, you can click on the Text button on the left side of the screen. 

Click on the gif to create a new Text layer, and then type whatever you want. Generally, dialogue captions are placed in the middle of a gif towards the bottom, while other, more artistic types of Text can go wherever you want. 

Now that you have a Text layer, you want to make sure of a few things. First, make sure that your Text layer is your TOP layer on the right side of the screen, above all of the Adjustment layers. 

Next, you want to make sure that your Text layer spans your entire gif Timeline. Notice how my Text layer (depicted as a purple rectangle in the Timeline) doesn’t reach the Gray Slider on the left? To fix this, simply click and drag the Text layer until it extends past both Gray Sliders. 

And finally, I always add Effects to my Text. You can do this by hitting the fx button in the bottom right of your screen. Specifically, I use the Stroke and Drop Shadow effects to make my gif stand out from whatever background it happens to be on. 

My Stroke is always set to 1px thick, and my Drop Shadow settings are as follows:

As a final note, if you want your text to look exactly like mine, then you need to use the font Myriad Pro in size 14, which I then italicize and bold. You can also open Window > Characters, and make sure that your preferences look like this: 

ALRIGHT. Now that you’ve added your extra text, you can FINALLY go to Step 6 and save your gif. 

Now, your finished gif should look like this:

I hope this tutorial was helpful! I tried to be as thorough as possible to avoid any confusion, but if you have any additional questions, you should always feel free to ask me! 

Have fun giffing!! :)