#like if she had just answered my question about the outline correctly the first fucking time i wouldn't have to rewrite it AGAIN.

[scare-ard--sleigh]

i'm salty about work and honestly i just need the six foot clown and the eight foot mafia king laying on top of me and smothering me and then they get up and destroy the internet so marketing and tech don't exist anymore and then i am Free and then they lay on top of me again thanks

#silver jelly #i'm glad that my manager is Acknowledging that they are being a pain in the ass but i jus t . #like if she had just answered my question about the outline correctly the first fucking time i wouldn't have to rewrite it AGAIN. #or okay maybe i would have because it's not a ~conversational tone~ which like what does that even MEAN when you're talking about #fucking email deliverability??????? normal people are not conversing about that ?????

[yeetlegay]

Heya! Asking this as someone who has watched the movie Pretty Woman but not for a LONG time, so my memory is fuzzy.

If I recall correctly, there were some bits in various spots that I think wouldn't float today. So if the Pretty Woman movie were remade today, with an updated approach and more contemporary viewpoints on sex work, what do you think might change? How might the story go differently?

Partly I'm asking because I'm curious to see what different choices you make from the film in FLH. 🤔 *curious curious curious*

Ohhhh this is fun, although idk if I’m the person to speak in depth about the “right way” to tell a story about sex work. Most of what I know about the industry is based on either a) academic scholarship or b) conversations with friends who currently are or used to be in sex work. Representation of sex work is complicated and there are contradicting opinions even within the sex worker community about what it should look like.

With that disclaimer aside, the original Pretty Woman movie isn’t perfect by any means. I think its big weakness is with Vivian’s character and how they chose to write/depict her journey and backstory. They lean into this very Christian/evangelical/biblical idea that women become prostitutes because they have a low sense of self-worth or they’re tricked/forced into it. (I say women because the movie ignores the existence of male sex workers entirely, and is so heavy with the gender binary that trans and nonbinary sex workers are even further off its radar.) Obviously sex workers can have low self-worth just like anyone else, and it’s a high-risk profession that a lot of people get manipulated or trafficked into. The problem is that they didn’t have any other sex workers in the movie besides Vivian’s friend Kit, who’s in pretty much the same boat as far as character background and motivations.

(Throwing in a cut here, it’s about to get rambly lol)

So what hasn’t aged well for me is that Vivian’s development relies so much on ideas about sex work that minimize women’s agency and moralize their sexuality. Vivian got to be the main character in the movie, the person people rooted for, because a) she was ashamed of how she made a living and b) her arc centered around self-esteem and wanting to be “saved” from poverty and exploitation, both of which made her a kind of Mary Magdalene figure that was the only archetype of a sex worker that would be palatable/sympathetic to a broad audience’s values and norms.

That perception of her was reinforced by a pretty big age gap, even though it’s not really discussed much in the movie. Julia Roberts and Richard Gere have a 19-year age gap. She was like 22 to his 41 when this movie was made. To be clear, I don’t give a shit about age gaps (I actually love age gap romances when done well, noona romances are my absolute WEAKNESS) and I’m not saying it makes their relationship unhealthy or anything. It’s just something that helps drive home to both them and the audience that Vivian is the young girl who needs a second chance, and Edward is the older man who can help her. He treats her well, but also he has a pretty condescending, paternalistic attitude toward her that exacerbates the power/class divide and infantilizes her a bit for the audience’s sake. Honestly he’s kind of a dick lol. It’s a miracle I like this movie as much as I do given how much I would hate him if I met him in real life. (Also the way he doesn’t CALL THE FUCKING COPS when his friend Stucky tries to force himself on Vivian??? What the actual fuck my guy)

Okay, now that I’ve rambled about all that, to answer the “what would I change” part of the question, I’d actually say Fake Love and Hennessy is pretty much my answer tbh, in the broadest strokes at least. When I first started outlining and writing, I knew what didn’t work for me in the original Pretty Woman and I had a decent grasp of sex work advocacy, so it was just a matter of figuring out what felt true to Porsche’s character and sort of reverse engineering the plot of Pretty Woman to fit that as much as I could. Which was actually ridiculously easy, not because I was some kind of genius lol, but just because Pretty Woman and Kinnporsche have a surprising amount of plot points and narrative elements in common. The outline basically fell in my lap, I’m not even joking.

Intentional choices I made re: representing sex work and character arcs:

Porsche has self-worth issues, just like Vivian, but they’re explicitly tied up in his role as caregiver for his brother and the class/power divide between him and Kinn. He doesn’t feel good enough for either of them, but that’s not why he got into sex work. It’s just a thing that happened, a choice he made, and he’s not ashamed about it, even if he feels the friction of deviating from social norms. It helps that Kinn is a deviant too (sociologically speaking, not talking about morals just that they’re both breaking society’s rules in different ways) so it would be pretty hypocritical for him to look down his nose at sex work, a major part of the underground economy in his world. (In fact, pretty much everyone in Kinn’s network is sex work positive and Porsche being a sex worker is by itself a total non-issue. If you’re afraid someone is gonna slutshame him or demean sex work at some point in the fic, don’t be. I’m not writing it, point blank. Not even the villains get to pull that shit on my watch.)

I’m playing around a bit with the wiggly consent moments from the movie. Kinn isn’t as pushy as Edward is, which is because a) he’s not as steeped in Western patriarchal influence and b) he just plain digs consent. He doesn’t repeatedly try to kiss Porsche after Porsche shows visible discomfort (like Edward did in the piano scene) and even after a couple of days when it’s obvious Porsche would be pretty down for kissing, he doesn’t make a move because Porsche already set his boundaries.

The D/s stuff honestly just sort of happened lol, I didn’t mean to make it such a big part of their relationship, but when I realized it was going there I went back to my outline to puzzle it out. It was really important to me that Porsche’s submissiveness wasn’t somehow conflated with powerlessness, considering the class divide between him and Kinn. I wanted it to be about him feeling empowered to own his pleasure and desire in a way he’d never let himself before, NOT about him lacking agency in his body as a sex worker. Porsche as a character is just so wrapped up in taking care of everyone around him that he’s not very self-aware in a lot of ways, so Kinn’s style of domming—extremely attentive, confidence-boosting, worshipful—throws him for a complete loop. So while the movie wasn’t very kinky, I thought Kinn and Porsche’s sexual power dynamic in the fic would be an added way to give Porsche agency as he starts exploring this new side of himself.

I’m still not trying to represent sex work “accurately” because that’s sort of impossible to do, and also it’s fiction, where a bit of idealization/rose-colored glasses treatment is pretty much a given. So I’m not saying this fic is even remotely realistic or true to the lived experiences of sex workers. That was never really my goal honestly. What I do want, and what I hope I’ve succeeded at, is to tell a story that respects sex workers across the board and doesn’t stigmatize, dehumanize, or otherwise contribute to their marginalization and oppression.

Okay, that’s a SUPER LONG response lol I get wordy very easily. There’s a lot of stuff in later chapters that departs from the movie, which I would’ve loved to talk about, but it’s all massive spoilers 😔

This made me realize how much I’d love to talk about all kinds of “behind the scenes” stuff about the fic when it’s done, because there’s all these little things (Easter eggs from the movie and show, role reversal moments, scene inspo, etc.) that I’ve had so much fun thinking about and working into the fic. Maybe I could do some sort of Q&A or something at the end if anyone’s interested, or just a list of fun facts/cutting room floor stuff.

But thank you for asking, Nemi, you gave me the perfect excuse to rant about the movie lol. 💖💖

#kinnporsche #pretty woman au #yeetle asks #also so sorry my reply took like ten years lol I needed a fresh brain for this ask

[ericspinkhair]

unexpectedly becoming a sugar baby

pairing: ceo!sunwoo x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: reader is desperate for money so she has sex with her boss

warnings: lots of oral and fingering, use of vibrator in public , office sex, sex for money

a/n: wrote this yesterday instead of studying for my final. the exam went well tho :) also please send in requests!!!

masterlist + requests

to say you were desperate would be an understatement. today you had received an eviction notice that stated that you had exactly 30 days to either pay back all the money you owed your landlord or leave your apartment.

due to your mother's illness you had to pay for all her medical bills. your father hadn't been in the picture for a long time so you alone were responsible for your mother's health. you couldn't just let her die. but because of all these costs you hadn't been able to pay your rent and now you were on the verge of homelessness.

never in a lifetime did you imagine that you would be begging someone for help. you felt so helpless that you honestly didn't really care how you got the money.

you decided to ask your boss for a raise and were prepared to work your ass off in order to get it.

mr. kim's office was on the fourth floor of the company, one you barely had ever been to. normal employees were usually only to be found on the lower floors so taking the elevator up felt wrong.

you were determined, however, to not let your pride get in the way. the money was more important than how you felt.

you knocked on the door twice. as if to make you feel even more nervous, it seemed like mr. kim waited extra long to respond.

when you entered he was sitting behind his desk. he didn't even look up at you so you just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

'why don't you just sit?' he finally asked annoyed and closed his laptop.

you quickly took a seat and tried to put up a professional front.

'what can I do for you, um…' 'y/n,' you helped him out. 'right, y/n. what can I do for you?' he asked.

'I would like to ask for a raise, sir. you see, I am usually the first employee to enter the building and also most of the time the last one to leave. I do my work reliably and deliver solid results. my coworkers are pleased with me and we also get along well. I think I contribute a lot to this company and wanted to ask whether it would be possible to raise my pay.' you really tried to not make it seem like you had simply memorized all of this and forced yourself to speak slowly but firmly while looking him in the eyes.

mr. kim didn't respond at first but opened his laptop.

'to my understanding you have been working here for a very long time already. your pay is already the highest it can get. there is no way for me to raise it because there is no room for improvement.' he sighed and waited for your reaction.

you started sweating. this wasn't going as planned. you hadn't known that you were already receiving the highest pay. you were barely able to afford food with your current money.

'please, sir. I will do anything you ask of me. I don't care how many extra hours I'd have to work. I can do it. I promise. please give me a chance,' you begged him.

he was intrigued by you. why were you so desperate for the money?

'first, why don't you tell me why you are so keen on a raise?'

was your boss even allowed to ask you such personal questions? you answered anyway.

'my mother has cancer. I am the only person paying for her medical expenses and the treatments are all very expensive. I am about to get evicted because I cannot pay my rent.'

he seemed to be deep in thought. his gaze on you was intense.

your heart skipped a beat when he placed his hand on yours.

'y/n, I'm extremely sorry that you have to deal with all of this. I wouldn't want anyone to have to experience the same thing. believe me when I tell you that I want to help you. you know what? come back tomorrow. I have an idea how I might be able to help but I need to think about it further. would that be alright for you?'

it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. you didn't care about what you had to do. you stood up, bowed deeply and thanked him over and over.

he let out a deep chuckle. you were cute.

the next day you came back again in the afternoon. this time he answered the door quicker and his attention was focused on you from the start. the energy felt much different than the day before. he seemed excited and was smiling at you. this had to mean good news, right? he shook your hand and pressed firmly while looking you deep in the eyes.

'y/n, I came up with an idea to help you. but it is less conventional and it depends on how much you are willing to do.'

'mr. kim, I will do anything,' you assured him. the smirk he flashed you threw you off guard.

'okay then. first, I'd prefer it if you called me sunwoo as we'll be seeing more of each other if you were to agree.'

this lowkey felt like crossing some boundaries but you wanted to please him.

you nodded eagerly. 'okay, sunwoo it is.'

'so my idea is that there are certain things you can do to earn money. I will pay for everything with my own savings and you will receive it in cash. we will start off easy and over time I'll add new tasks. of course, you have the freedom to choose whether you want to do them or not. that is completely up to you.'

the look of confusion on your face must have told him you didn't fully understand.

'it's hard to explain. I'd rather you figure it out by trying it. since today is friday, the task I'll give you is for monday. I would like to choose an outfit for you. I'll send it to your apartment and you have to wear exactly what is inside the box. if you were to do this I'd give you $20 cash.'

that was a weird request. why would he want to decide what you were wearing? did he not like your outfit? did you look disgusting?

'let me get this straight. you pick an outfit for me and if I decide to wear it I get money?' you ask him to see if you had understood correctly.

'exactly. that doesn't seem so bad, right?' you shook your head. it was whatever.

'that's great. you'll receive your outfit and I can't wait to see you in it on monday.' you didn't know if you were imagining it but it seemed like he was eyeing your body. h god, he definitely didn't like what you were wearing.

$20 wasn't much but still more than nothing. and apparently the other tasks would be worth more. guess you had to start somewhere. with the money you could at least afford something to eat.

you say goodbye and continued with work until it was time to leave.

you waited anxiously all weekend for the clothes. sunday you decided to go for a walk and when you opened your door you almost tripped over a package.

on monday morning you tried on the outfit sunwoo had picked out for you.

the white blouse was a bit see through and a bit too tight around the boob area but looked neat otherwise. the black skirt hugged your curves perfectly and made you look quite sexy in your opinion. he even picked out a bra, underwear, stockings and high heels for you. the note he had left clearly stated to wear exactly and only what was in the box. so you did.

you usually wore something more simple and loose but you didn't feel too uncomfortable in this look.

when you entered his office his eyes lit up.

'I'm glad you wore this. it looks very good on you.'

you were sure you blushed a bit at his words. you weren't really used to receiving compliments from men.

'I like it too,' you admit. sunwoo smiled contentedly.

'so would you like to do the same tomorrow? I'll send you another outfit,' he asked you.

this one wasn't bad at all so you agreed. he handed you $20. when you stood up and walked out the door he couldn't stop admiring the way your butt looked in the skirt. tomorrow was going to be even better.

the blouse was almost the same one. however, this time the skirt was a lot shorter. it ended at the middle of your thighs. but that wasn't even the weirdest thing. this time he had forgotten to send you panties.

you felt very unsure what to do. the note clearly stated to only wear what was in the box.

you sighed and pulled down the skirt as much as you could. this would have to do. as long as you were just sitting, everything would be fine.

you went about your day and some time in the afternoon you were called into sunwoo's office.

you were wondering whether or not to tell him about the missing underwear but decided to keep your mouth closed. panties didn't seem to be a topic to talk about with your boss.

'today, I want to offer you an additional task. you will receive your $20 dollars for sure and you can make another 30 by cleaning my office. what do you think?' he proposed to you.

that would be $50 in total. you needed all the money you could get.

'of course. just tell me what to clean and I will be happy to help.'

everything was going according to sunwoo's plan. he was excited and told you you could start by dusting the shelves.

your eagerness was cute and he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

some of the shelves were higher up so you had to stretch to be able to reach them. when you did your skirt rolled up higher and he was able to see the just the outline of your butt cheeks. he unconsciously licked his lips.

for the rest of the week you continued these two tasks. but you noticed that the underwear kept on missing and the skirts also progressively became shorter.

this was a struggle when you were cleaning and organizing his office. you were aware of your skirt rolling up and you were hoping that sunwoo wouldn't notice.

of course he did. that had been his intention all along. when you bent down he could sometimes get a glance at your pretty pussy. he couldn't help but get hard at the sight of this and palmed his bulge through his pants.

in one week you had received $220. you would have been more happy if you hadn't gotten another bill from the hospital asking you for another $1200. the health care system was simply fucked up. whatever the next tasks were, you had to do them.

on monday you were cleaning his office again. you wanted to pick up some files but you struggled reaching them from the highest shelf. you felt your skirt roll up again.

'wait. I'll help you,' sunwoo announced and walked over.

you gasped as you felt something hard poke your thigh as he stood behind you to reach for the files. when he took a step back you saw the clear outlines of his hardened cock.

unable to hide your surprise, sunwoo laughed.

'this is all your doing.' so he did notice your skirt roll up. wait. had he given you these clothes with this in mind?

'do you want to touch it?' he asked.

you just blinked at him. what? were you perhaps still dreaming? it was possible that you were having a wet dream about your boss. sunwoo was very handsome and you had to be blind not to notice.

'if you help me get rid of it, I'll promise you $100.' he knew you were thinking hard. you couldn't keep your eyes off his bulge, clearly not sure what to think of this.

this was against all the work protocols but you would kid yourself if you said that you didn't want to. not only was he very attractive but you'd do a lot for a mere $100.

you reached for his belt. sunwoo smirked; he had won.

you pulled his pants down and were immediately greeted with his veiny cock.

'you aren't the only one not wearing any underwear, my dear y/n.'

so that had been intentional. interesting. you realized you must have been very naive to have believed that he had simply forgotten to put panties in the boxes.

you started by rubbing the tip softly with your thumb. it was pretty and pink and already leakined pre-cum.

you felt strangely good about having this kind of effect on someone. with a few pumps his dick was completely hard.

sunwoo propped his hands on the desk behind him and leaned back in bliss.

deep moans were escaping his beautifully luscious lips while you were pleasuring him with your hands.

you decided to put your left hand you use as well by massaging his balls.

'fuck! when did you learn to do this so well?' sunwoo groaned.

during high school you had had a lot of sex. it made you feel good and you enjoyed it. now your experience turned out to be lifesaving to you. well, he'd probably pay you even if you weren't as mind blowing.

'hmm, practice,' you simply state.

'if this is already so good I wonder what your mouth can do, baby girl.' being called that aroused you way more than expected. this was so exciting.

'I'll give you another $100 if you suck me off.'

before sunwoo knew it you had already wrapped your lips around his cock. you skillfully bobbed your head up and down. when you looked up at him with big eyes he swore he was about to explode.

with most of the dick in your mouth your other hand was continuing to knead his balls.

he was coming close quickly and grabbed your hair so you would stay still.

he proceeded to fuck your mouth harshly. you felt spit running down the sides of your lips and tears escaping your eyes as he buried his cock deep in your mouth. you tried to relax in order to deep-throat him properly.

he came hard and emptied his load in your mouth. to prove a point, you swallowed it and then opened up to show him.

panting hard he said: 'fuck you're just amazing!'

you looked absolutely delicious with your face full of cum. he had a good feeling you were the right person to do this with.

you licked off some of the white liquid from your lips and smirked at him.

this was definitely not what you had expected what you would be doing but you weren't one to complain.

sunwoo quickly disappeared to search for some paper towels to clean your face. his employees couldn't see you like this.

after your face was clean again he handed you $250. 'you deserve it.' 'thanks.'

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and leaned closer. 'maybe we can do more tomorrow.' ooh, sounds exciting.

'then I'll look forward to seeing you.' with a wink you left.

you wondered how much money you would get for some sexy time with your boss.

the next morning, you couldn't fully button up the blouse he had sent you. the top buttons had to be left open and a lot of cleavage was visible. this horndog!

this time you actually received some underwear but only for a special reason. you found a pink mini vibrator in the box as well.

so you were walking around with a vibrating stick up your pussy. you didn't want to come in front of your co-workers so you turned it off whenever you got too close and waited to calm down.

'did you have fun today?' was the first thing sunwoo said to you.

you laughed ironically. 'I had so much fun pretending I wasn't being masturbating in front of everyone…'

he made you turn around and lifted up your skirt. the outline of the vibrator was visible and he could see your panties shaking.

with one quick move he pulled your underwear down and took the vibrator to turn it off. it came out with a wet plop and juices were running down your thighs.

sunwoo surprised you by sucking on the wet vibrator.

'sit on the desk,' he commanded you.

you did as you were told and sunwoo spread your legs wide apart.

he inserted his index and middle finger which slipped in with ease. your pussy made wet noises as he pushed them in and out of you.

finally having privacy you allowed yourself to make sounds. he made intense eye contact while fingering you, loving the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and started kissing him. his tongue easily won the fight over dominance and started exploring your mouth.

you two were basically just sucking each others faces off until he broke off the kiss and lowered his body. he attached his mouth to your clit and started sucking. you pulled at his hair in pleasure and had a hard time controlling your breathing. damn, he was skilled at this as well.

when he felt you clenching around his fingers he withdrew them and you let out a disappointed noise of protest.

'don't worry. you'll have more soon.', he laughed at you. he quickly took off his pants and pulled you off the desk. he turned you around so your ass was facing him.

he started rubbing his thick cock between your ass cheeks and coated it in your juices. every time he got into contact with your tense pussy a shudder overcame your body.

he lifted your leg and placed your foot on the table. the angle from when he thrusted into you from behind was just perfect.

sunwoo attached his lips onto your neck and started leaving hickeys there. at the same time he was kneading your breast through your shirt.

he had barely ever felt such a perfect pussy around his cock. the way you took him in seemed too good to be true.

while his dick was still inside you, he lifted you up and placed you on all fours on the floor.

he grabbed your hips so tightly that he left red marks on them. at this point, he was just uncontrollably slamming into you while you were losing your mind. you were screaming his name loudly, glad that you knew no one could hear you.

as you could feel both of you getting close, he pulled your upper body up to his chest and wrapped one hand around your neck.

the pressure he applied was just enough for you to see stars but not enough for it to be unpleasant.

the lack of oxygen stimulated your senses even more and while repeatedly screaming out sunwoo's name you finally came hard on his dick.

with a few more thrusts, sunwoo's hips started stuttering as well and he shot his load into you. while riding out your highs he was just fucking his cum right back into you.

when he finally pulled out, a pool of his semen started dripping out of you. you suddenly felt so empty. his thick cock had filled you up so good that you were already missing it.

while you were still catching your breath on the floor, sunwoo had gone to get paper towels.

when he came back, however, he seemed hectic.

'I'm so sorry. there has been an emergency and I need to leave right now. I'll leave these here as well as the money.' he placed everything on the desk and walked back to the door.

he turned around one last time. 'I hope we can do this again.' he smiled at you.

you later saw that he had left you $750.

kind of becoming a sugar baby had never been your plan but you didn't mind it. if only the circumstances had been better.

#kim sunwoo smut #kim sunwoo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #the boyz sunwoo smut #the boyz sunwoo scenario #kim sunwoo #smut #kpop smut #the boyz

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

[wing-ed-thing]

Click (Part V: Naruto)

Synopsis: You invited everyone out to dinner. You also audibly clicked. People have opinions about this.

Word Count: 1,927

Warnings/Tags: LANGUAGE, Slight Angst, Serious Themes

Part I: Shikamaru, Part II: Shino, Part III: Neji, Part IV: Rock Lee , Part V: Naruto, Part VI: Kiba, FINALE, The Message in Click

Notes: So for most of the Click series, you could have read as one shots, this one really relies on the other chapters. You’re not really going to know what’s going on so I suggest reading the Shikamaru, Shino, Neji, and Rock Lee parts that are already posted. At the very least read the Shikamaru one, but whatevs. 

This one is a bit more serious compared to the last chapter which was filled with jokes. But I think this might be the most important one because it’s so serious. 

Lee left. Naruto stared blankly at the spot Lee stood, lost in thought and pensive. He could almost still see his green form standing in front of him. The mental outline danced in the empty space. Sakura shifted next to Naruto, but he found himself too lost to notice. It felt as if his mind went blank yet his thoughts raced rapidly. Naruto, always one to feel the need to align himself correctly, felt like a failure. He clenched his fist. The three friends that they had traveled with moved on, but Sakura stayed. She put a tentative hand on his shoulder. Naruto shrugged her hand away.

“Naruto,” She spoke softly. “We’ll make it up to her, okay? Don’t beat yourself up.” Naruto shook his head, feeling himself begin to get more upset. He knew how you felt. He always prided himself in his ability to empathize with others. Never did Naruto believe that anyone should ever be alone, but he obviously messed up.

“I’m sorry, Sakura. I gotta go.” Sakura called after him as he left, but didn’t chase after him.

Naruto didn’t know where he was headed, he just felt his legs work under him. His hand made its way up to his hair and he tugged at the short strands. A frustrated grunt fell from his lips. The scenery around him changed rapidly as he picked up speed. It wasn’t like Naruto to ignore someone like he did. He remembered. He remembered you asking him to dinner clearly when he thought about it. It must have slipped his mind. He must have been distracted, too easily excited. It wasn’t as if he disliked you, not in the slightest. But now all he felt was guilt and most of all like a hypocrite.

Naruto let out a frustrated roar, stopping at the edge of a clearing to land a vicious strike against the trunk of a nearby tree. It shook, almost snapping. Leaves fell violently from the branches above.

“FUCK!” A loud string of curses came from the clearing. Naruto turned to see Shikamaru sitting up among the flowers. Shikamaru buried his face in his hand. “Fucking shit, thanks for scaring the absolute living shit out of me. Leave it to the hyperactive, knucklehead ninja to ruin my fucking nap.” His arms straightened out towards Naruto who stared in surprise. Shikamaru groaned before collapsing back down onto the ground, body sprawled out among the wild plantlife. Naruto wandered over.

“Sorry, Shikamaru,” Naruto apologized, hand once again in his hair. He scratched at the back of his head. “Maybe you should find a better spot to nap next time.” Shikamaru didn’t bat an eye as he looked upward at the clear sky.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Naruto, but we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Only then did Naruto’s attention snap up. He glanced around, turning his body a full three-hundred and sixty degrees. Shikamaru was right, they were in the middle of nowhere and Naruto had hardly noticed. He didn’t even think that they were within the limits of Konoha anymore. Shikamaru looked at Naruto quickly, then back to the sky. “Are you leaving now?” But the blond said nothing, instead coming to sit down next to Shikamaru, who frowned.  

“I think I messed up, Shikamaru.” Naruto mumbled, pulling his legs closer to cross them. The Nara let out a sigh. Apparently, Naruto planned to stay.

“Is this about the birthday thing?” Shikamaru asked, causing Naruto to scrunch his face in shock.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You’re not the first person to get worked up about it and something tells me you won’t be the last,” Shikamaru huffed. The wind blew, causing the tall grass to waver in the breeze. Naruto’s hair flew into his face, causing him to shift. The strands blew over his forehead. “Beating yourself up over it isn’t going to fix anything.”

“Well, what will?” Shikamaru remained silent. He kept his eyes on the sky above. Naruto looked up too, wondering what it was that Shikamaru was so fixated with. “Think I should talk to her?” Shikamaru didn’t skip a beat.

“Would you be talking to her for you or for her?” Naruto glanced back at Shikamaru.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you talking to her to make her feel better or to make yourself feel better?” The blond frowned.

“Her, of course.” He answered with a certain amount of certainty. In all honesty, he didn’t put that much thought into the question. Like most instances in Naruto’s life, he just answered, leaving the heavy thinking for a later time. He stood and Shikamaru hummed. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Please don’t.” But Naruto was already gone.

***

Lee had almost finished the dishes by the time a knock came at your door. You had offered, planned on doing them yourself, but Lee insisted. When Lee insisted, there was no convincing him otherwise so he stood over your sink, scrubbing with rigor you had never seen before. You opened the door to reveal Naruto, his eyes near pleading. You stepped to the side, letting him in straight away. A pit of dread gathered up in your stomach. You did not click. Lee looked up from his work. He seemed to sense that something was wrong as well.

“Oh, Naruto.” But his surprised greeting was ignored. Naruto’s eyes focused solely on you.

“Can we talk?” He asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes glazed quickly over your apartment. No room to talk in private.

“Um, yeah sure.” You gave a slight smile. Your voice jumped an octave, pumped with kind understanding. You faced Lee, who looked at you with expectation. “You can leave those. It was really nice having you over tonight. I really love the flowers.” A polite and silent request for him to leave. Lee understood, but appeared wary.

“Is there anything you would like me to do?” You shook your head.

“Thank you for keeping me company and for being so understanding. I hope we can do this again soon.” Lee gave you a hopeful grin.

“Yes, I would very much enjoy that.” He left through the window. Naruto found his way to your empty kitchen table. He seemed lost in the pattern of the hard, wood surface. You sat down across from him.

“Can I get you some tea?”

Naruto shook his head slowly, continuing to stare down at your table. You sat patiently, waiting for him to speak. You could tell that he had something to say, but you refrained from prying. Your fingers traced the outline of your clicker in your pocket. And after letting the tension in the air thicken just a moment longer, Naruto finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He paused. Your lips remained sealed. You sat, ready to listen. Naruto looked up at you, seeming to wonder if you’d answer, but he took your silence as a cue to continue. “About your birthday, I mean. It was Kiba, he was the one who convinced us all to go out and it must’ve slipped my mind. I just feel like a jerk for listening to him and blowing you off like that. I just realized that those guys are really mean to you and I swear I’ll never be like that.” Naruto’s bright, baby-blue eyes met yours.

“Naruto,” You spoke his name softly. You almost bowed your head, afraid to tell him what you were going to. A gulp. “You apologize, but you blame everything… on Kiba. Kiba convinced you. You shouldn’t have listened to Kiba. Those guys did and said something unkind.” He stared blankly at you.

“Kiba was the one who set the whole thing up. It’s his fault. And I thought you should know about all the mean things people are saying about you. It just made my blood boil-”

“Naruto.” His name cut through the atmosphere. “No matter what the intention was, you told me that you’d be there. I don’t care what Kiba did-”

“But you don’t know what he-”

“But you. I was under the impression that since you apologized, this conversation was about you.” There was a force in your tone that Naruto had never heard before. He looked across the table at you sitting neatly in your chair. Your face remained unreadable, though kind. A certain amount of strength radiated from you. “I know what Kiba did and I know what people say about me. They’ve acted that way and said the same things for quite some time now.”

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. Naruto, for once, was still. You continued, speaking quicker. Nervous, but determined to make a point.

“But all of that aside, if we’re talking about what happened yesterday between you and I, all I can see is that you told me you’d join me for dinner, but you never came. And honestly, I was upset at that moment, but I’m really not as down about it as everyone seems to think I am.” You let out a deep exhale, having built it up as you spoke. Naruto clenched his fists underneath the table.

“Yes, you are. How can you not be upset about that? How can you not care, just not care about what happened?”

“You want a real answer, here, Naruto?” You sighed and once again made eye contact with the blond. “I’m not upset, because the actions of others are not things I can control.” You crossed your arms and leaned forward.

“But something should change,” Naruto argued. “I feel guilty. They should at least feel guilty and say sorry for fucking up so bad.”

“And maybe something should change.” You shrugged, letting your head tilt to the side. “But I’m not going to work myself up over something that I can’t control.” You smiled, letting yourself laugh just a little bit. You spoke his name with affection. “Not everyone has to like me. It was really hard, I won’t lie because who doesn’t want to be liked? But sometimes there are people who just don’t understand you and really, it’s not my job to make them understand. I’m living in a way that makes me happy. And anyone who wants to join me is welcome to.”

Nartuo once again fell silent. Once again, you allotted him time to think.

“I’d understand if you wanted space or to not be friends.” Naruto nodded to himself, mustering up the strength to look you in the eye. “But if you’d let me, I’d like to join you, even if no one else will.”

“You are forgiven if that’s what you need to hear.” You let out a snicker and he mirrored your expression, albeit sheepishly.

“I appreciate that, actually.” You rattled and a small click came from your pocket.

“I try to focus on the positives as best I can. Maybe they’ll see, like you said, and learn.” You looked to your left out through the window. You shrugged, returning back to Naruto. “Maybe not. It’s not my problem and it certainly won’t keep me up at night. There’s no use in looking back. For me, the only option is forward.” You felt the ache of that slight smile that had plastered itself to your lips. “That’s it for my depressing monologue for tonight.”

“Not at all,” Naruto reassured you, but you had retired the subject. You stood.

“I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

“Yes, please.” Naruto nodded politely, energy dipping from the less-than-chipper conversation.

Notes: I meant every word of this. It takes time and a whole lot of effort to change your mindset about something, but you really can set yourself free. If you’re expecting everyone to adore you, you’re setting yourself up for failure. Sometimes hardship reveals who your true friends are. I’d take that any day over a group of people who silently judge me. 

Note: Let. Shikamaru. Say. Fuck. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #shikamaru x you #Shikamaru x reader #shino x reader #shino Aburame x reader #neji x reader #neji hyuuga x reader #rock lee x reader #rock lee x you #rock lee x y/n #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto #shikamaru #shino #rock lee #neji #sakura #click #x reader #x you #x y/n #reader insert

[infernwetrust]

In His Office [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader]

Summary: A recent change in your shift allows for you to have lunch with Michael at his brand new dealership.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Swearing. I think that’s about it.

WC: 2.5k

A/N: This idea came to me recently today lol. We all know Michael Langdon isn’t a stranger to a little office sex. I imagined this one with F&R Michael. Thank you for reading! -Juno

Michael walked around his dealership, hands clasped behind his back as he silently studied his employees at work. Not wanting Michael to always stress over his job as the anti-Christ, you convinced him to pursue something else that he was interested in. Why not start a business, he had thought. He decided that he would own a decent sized car lot, divided into 3 sections; luxury, middle-class, and pre-owned vehicles. The business took off well as he constantly won awards throughout the year whether it be for most sales or outstanding customer service.

He could feel the eyes burning into him as he walked passed, from employees and customers alike. He knew he was attractive. He knew that some of his workers wanted to screw him, but he paid their nasty thoughts no mind. He dressed in all black as usual. A black button up shirt that hugged his figure perfectly, tight black jeans, sporting the Michael Kors belt you had gotten him for his birthday, and his favorite pair of black dress shoes to go with it. He never went anywhere without wearing the platinum chain, which proudly displayed his last name, around his neck. That was also a gift from you.

His hands shifted behind his back and his thumb brushed against his wedding band, causing him smile a little bit as he finished walking the floor, returning to his office and taking a seat at his desk. He looked down at the wedding band, reminding himself of the passionate encounter that the two of you had shared a few nights ago.

"Michael..." you whispered against his lips as he lay comfortably between your legs.

"Hmm, my love?" he questioned, his blue eyes meeting yours, his lips not moving an inch away from yours.

"I want you to wear your ring while you make love to me. I want to see it. I want to be reminded of your commitment to me." He smiled against your lips because funny enough, it was something he always thought of too. Normally he would take it off to avoid it flying off his finger due to any sudden hand movements while the two of you got lost in each other.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"I have your weekly sales report, Mr. Langdon." his lovely Ms. Mead said, walking into his office and gently placing the folder on his desk. He smiled warmly at her, taking a bite of his now cold bagel before moving the folder closer to him. It was only right that he made her head of the financials. She was so good with numbers and always had Michael's files correctly placed together.

"Now you know you don't have to call me that." he said to her. "Michael, Mike, even son, works just fine for me."

"I know." she said. "But we're in your place of business, my dear. I will always address you with respect."

"You're too good to me, you know that?" All she could do was smile. "Took care of me when no one else would, never left my side, always provided for me. I won't ever be able to thank you enough." She was going to say something else when Michael's front desk receptionist walked into his office, his shirt drenched in coffee.

"Jeremy what the fuck happened to you?"Michael questioned, furrowing his eyebrows as one of his first impression's of his establishment was now completely a mess. "You can't fucking greet people like that. What type of business do you think I'm running here?"

"There's a woman, in the lobby." he began, out of breath. "She keeps demanding that I direct you to her office and that she's your wife. I think she's crazy, but I tried letting her know that you're a very busy man and that she'd have to call in advance to meet with you, but she wouldn't take no for an answer." A smile crept its way across Michael's face as he snapped his fingers, restoring Jeremy's outfit back to its original state. Yup. That was you.

"Yeah, that sounds like my wife." Michael said, grinning alongside Ms. Mead. "Perhaps you should of listened to her the first time."

"But sir, I was just trying to-,"

"Ah ah. I've heard enough. Walk her back here and make sure you get nothing else thrown on you for the rest of the day or your fired. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Jeremy said lowly, turning to exit Michael's office and get you.

"These fucking new hires, huh?" Michael questioned, looking at Ms. Mead.

"You let Jeff and Mutt do the hiring when you really should pass that job along to Gallant. He would make sure the right people were working here."

"That he would. That he would..." Michael agreed, rubbing underneath his chin. And then you walked into the room. With a recent shift change, you now got off at 2PM, which means you were able to meet Michael for his lunches that he took at 2:30. He stared at you, smiling devilishly, running his fingers across his bottom lip.

"You're lucky I don't fire you my fucking self." you said to Jeremy as he escorted you in.

"My apologies, Mrs. Langdon." he said, with his head low.

"Yeah, whatever. You can get out now." He wasted no time, quickly leaving the room, accidentally bumping into the side of the door, causing the 3 of you to giggle. "Ugh, Michael, don't tell me you're still chewing on that bagel I sent you to work with." You walked over to his desk, engulfing Ms. Mead into a tight hug, which she gladly returned before planting a kiss on your cheek.

"I'll leave you two, to it." she said, giving Michael a nod before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Why so bossy today?" Michael questioned, sitting up in his chair and resting his hands on his desk, admiring your unique figure.

"Between work today and your stupid front desk agent, I'm just ready to eat lunch with you and for you to come home."

"It was that bad today?"

"If I could throw my computer out of the window with no consequences, I would." Michael chuckled, grabbing his bag of Panera Bread. You knew his favorite. Turkey Bacon Bravo, with avocado, extra, extra, avocado. Cheddar Broccoli soup and a Coke.

"You and me both, my Queen." Michael grabbed a remote, the one that control the shades in his office. He lowered them, half way, just so that no one walking by would be able to peak in at the two of you. "Staying with me until I get off at 5 or do you just want to take my car and go home and then come back for me?”

"You know I am. I've missed you terribly today."

"Is that why my front desk boy ended up covered in coffee?" The two of you looked at each other with a grin. "A temper just like mine. Mrs. Langdon, I love it, just as much as I love you."

"I love you too." you responded. "My temper is how I keep things in order."

"Mmmm." Michael hummed. "Tell me about it."

After lunch, Michael returned to his duties, going over his sales reports, moving things where they needed to go, and sending out emails and reminders. You loved watching him work. You loved how fast his fingers moved a crossed the keys and how his gaze never broke away from the task at hand. You were mainly focused on his outfit choice for today. You had no idea he would be leaving the house in an outfit that pointed out ALL of his features. Though he was soft, you could still see the full outline of his length through his jeans when he sat down. His chest, outlined against his shirt perfectly, you could just make out his nipples. The size of Michael's thighs drove you insane, that you couldn't help but come over in the chair you were sitting in and start rubbing them.

His focus still didn't break and while you knew he preferred to stay focused on his work, today it didn't seem like he cared. He allowed you to rub his thigh, his breathing slightly increasing as he typed up a inventory report. When he paused for a moment, wanting to crack his knuckles, you took the opportunity to spin his chair around so that it was facing you. The both of you immediately made eye contact, but no words were spoken. You could read his face and he could read yours. You were both on on the same page. He grabbed another remote, this time the stereo remote, turning it on, leaving the music at a reasonable volume.

Your hands were already fumbling with his belt as you got it unclasped. You quickly unbuttoned his jeans, Michael kicking off his shoes and moving them to the side. You pulled them down, bringing his boxers down with his, revealing his semi-hard cock. And all you did was touch him. You knew how much Michael craved you, both intimately and non-intimately. He was weak underneath your touch most of the time. You got on your knees in front of him, hands on his thighs as you slowly took him into your mouth. He let out a Godly sigh, leaning his head back as you got to work on him.

"Ssssh." you said, popping him out of your mouth. "It seems to be a busy day for you. You don't want your customers to know what's going on behind your office doors do you?"

"And what if I do?" Michael questioned, his cock twitching from missing your mouth.

"Well let's pretend you don't. No noises. Can you do that for me, daddy?" Michael's jaw clenched at the name and he bit his lip slightly. Silent Michael was sight to see. While extremely audible Michael was one of your favorites, nothing beat looking up at him and watching as he expressed his pleasure with his face and body.

You took him back into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head up and down on his length. Michael's jaw dropped. He desperately wanted to moan. He wanted you to know how good you were making him feel, but he kept it quiet. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He didn't bother to take it off, his chest and torso for the most part exposed, his chain landing perfectly in the middle of chest. You licked up and down the sides of his shaft, using your hand to stroke circles around his spit glazed tip. The sound of the wetness drove the both of you crazy. Your own arousal soaked through your panties.

Putting him back in your mouth, you sucked on just his tip, using both of your hands to stroke the rest of his length. Looking up at him, he looked so beautiful. He was breathing heavily as he peered back down at you, running his hand through his hair, his hips starting to thrust upwards in your hand to try and match your pace. His foot found its way between your legs and using his big toe, he slowly rubbed it across your clit, causing you to moan lowly around him, the vibrations ripping through him.

You were sucking faster now, moving your hands faster. He gripped both sides of his office chair, before deciding to let them go, wanting his hands wrapped up in your hair instead. You moved your hands, knowing what he was wanting to do. Welcoming it. And you loved watching him do it too. His thrusts in your mouth started off slow and gently, before they became rough and fast. You looked up at Michael again, who was now breathing so rapidly you thought that maybe he could be hyperventilating. You could see him mouthing the word fuck over and over and over.

He stood up abruptly, pulling you up with him before smashing his lips onto yours, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, the two of you fighting for dominance. He was quick to rid you of your clothes before pulling his shirt all the way off. With a quick wave of his hand, everything that was now on his desk, was on his office sofa, neatly stacked so that he could return to it lately. He picked you up, setting you down on his desk.

"Now can you do the same for me?" he asked, quickly sliding into you, catching you off guard. Sensing your impending loud moan he quickly put a hand over your mouth. "No noises yes? Or I'll stop and we'll have to finish this at home." You nodded against his hand and he slowly moved in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. You pulled him by the back of his neck, closer to you, putting your lips directly against his ear. His hands roamed all over you, squeezing your breasts, playing with your nipples as he gradually increased the pace at which he fucked you. Your hands travelled up and down his back when suddenly he grabbed them, pinning them above your head.

You swore the desk was inching farther and farther away from the area it resided in as he now pounded into you relentlessly and you could help but let out a cry of pleasure, or at least you tried to, but Michael knew you all to well. He used his powers to keep you quiet, your mouth wanting to make noise, but nothing but breaths and pants coming out.

"Poor, girl." Michael said between breaths. "Dishing out challenges you can't even do yourself. Now look, I have to use my powers to keep your mouth shut. Pathetic. You enjoy being my little office toy?" You nodded vigorously. Not only had your shift change allowed you to have lunch with Michael, but it was just the fact that you were now able to spend the rest of his work filled day with him, sex or no sex.

"That's what I thought." he continued, his pounding becoming sloppier and sloppier as he neared his climax, you not following too far behind. When he let your hands go, they immediately found their way to his hair, giving it a sharp tug to which he inhaled sharply to stop himself from cursing. You grabbed him by his throat, pulling him back down towards you as you neared your orgasm, foreheads pressed against each other with nothing but pure love and lust in the both of your eyes.

You let go first, squirming violently against Michael, who sloppily kissed you following his own release shortly after, breathing and panting loudly in each other's mouths. You both rode out your orgasms until the pleasure was completely gone.

"This shift change is going to be so much fun." Michael said as he rested his face in your neck.

"So much fun, Mr. Langdon. So much fun." you said back.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #american horror story #cody fern imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

[fantasia-monogram]

As the clock strikes midnight, part 2

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ NSFW (~1.7k words); a lot of sex talk and kink negotiation. Mentions of BDSM and kink. No one is 100% straight. Mentions of queerphobia.

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you. Please read part 1 before this!

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Your impromptu get-together had been going for over two hours already, and you’d loved every minute of it so far. Your motivation had been mostly spending some time with Taeyang away from the workplace, but you had to admit: your other companion’s intentions towards you weren’t clear either. You enjoyed the mystery of it all, even though it was the youngest of your trio that you had your eyes on ever since the training period started.

Well, the mystery would end there, or so you thought.

“I can’t believe I put myself in a drama-like setting, but,” Jaeyoon started, clearly down out of sudden, “That guy reviewing our results… What was his name? Inseong… I might have a bit of a crush on him.”

You stopped in the middle of bringing a cup to your lips, letting your hand holding the latte hang awkwardly in the air. With the corner of your eye, you could see Taeyang doing the same.

“Come on, don’t tell me that you’re…” Jaeyoon whined, shaking his head.

“No, hear me out,” you interrupted. Before you spoke again, you cautiously looked left and right to make sure no one else was listening. Only then, you continued with a hushed voice. “You know, it drives me crazy whenever they call me a she in those international reports. I’m non-binary, I prefer neutral pronouns. I don’t really have to worry about it on a daily basis, until English rolls in and makes me cringe.”

Your friend leaned closer to you.

“Not like I didn’t notice,” he concluded. A wide grin was back on his face. “Do you like boys, though?”

You could tell he was just joking, given his usual flirty attitude, and you didn’t have to answer at all. However, since you started confessing already, you figured you could take it seriously.

“I do, actually!” You nodded, smiling lightly.

You couldn’t believe you could talk about it openly like that.

“Oh, I don’t discriminate, I fuck everybody,” Jaeyoon replied in a seemingly playful tone, although being serious as well, “But right now? My heart belongs to the Quality Department leader.” He finished with a hand on his chest.

You both laughed wholeheartedly, until you noticed Taeyang was silent this entire time. Jaeyoon turned his eyes towards him, with you following shortly.

“What about you?” Jaeyoon asked boldly.

A look of slight panic flashed through Taeyang’s face, and you’d think it’s adorable if not for the crushing possibility of him having objections towards who you were - now that he knew, it could have changed anything.

You really didn’t want to have your heart broken after mere four weeks since starting a new job.

“I… I like g…” Taeyang stuttered, his gaze briefly catching yours. He held tight onto his cup of coffee and looked away, blushing profusely. “People with vaginas.”

“No way!” Jaeyoon exclaimed. Fortunately, he remembered the topic of your conversation and immediately toned it back down. “I’m sorry, I’d have never clocked you as straight.”

“Hey, stop it!” You smacked his bicep, earning an exaggerated wince from him.

Taeyang rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s fine,” he stated, putting on a regretful expression. “I get that a lot. I tried everything, but that’s my final verdict for now.”

Jaeyoon kept making inappropriate jokes despite your earlier protest, but you would be lying if you said you were listening to him. Your eyes were glued on Taeyang, even though he was way too busy deflecting your other friend’s silly remarks to pay attention to you.

*

It wasn't the first time Jaeyoon and Taeyang have visited your place; they've been there numerous times before, together and separately. 

It was the first time, however, when they entered the apartment with all three of you feeling equally horny and not even trying to hide it. 

It couldn't have been caused by the alcohol, because you haven't had any, Taeyang only had a couple sugary drinks, and Jaeyoon got completely sober as soon as the words fun night were mentioned. Nothing had been explicitly stated, but all of you - always having been open not just about your sexual identity and orientation, but also your specific attitudes towards sex in general - have reached an unspoken agreement: everyone was getting off tonight, this way or another.

You quickly decided to take turns using the bathroom. When it was Jaeyoon's turn to shower, you were left alone with Taeyang. It was a bit awkward at first, considering his confession from earlier that you barely replied to. As soon as he sat on a sofa in the living room - smelling clean, fresh glow on his face - you took a place beside him, wearing your black satin pajamas already.

Taeyang leaned back and smiled at you blissfully. Only then, he took your hand in his; after holding it for a good minute, he intertwined your fingers.

"I'm so happy," he whispered. 

You really wished to answer in a coherent way, yet you couldn't possibly focus enough to be your usual, collected self - not when you finally had your long-time crush next to you, shirtless, lightly toned muscles and sharp outline of ribs on display.

Maybe you didn't want to shock him by showing this side of yourself so easily, but it was impossible at this point; your prettiest, prettiest boy was here, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the entire universe, making your heart swell with love and desire just by that. 

Not used to being so overwhelmed with emotions, you just stared back at him wide-eyed.

"Sheesh, don't tell me you started without me!" 

Jaeyoon appeared in the doorway, hair still wet and adorably curled without usual styling - a contrast to his impressive physique in nearly full glory since he, as opposed to the more reserved Taeyang, decided to step out of the bathroom wearing only boxer briefs. 

It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before, as you'd go to the pool together many times over the past few years (Taeyang always refused the invitation, even though he claimed to be a pro at swimming and even bragged about gold and silver medals he won in national competitions during high school). Yet somehow, this time, the sight hit differently, since you knew what was about to happen. 

"No way," you chuckled; Taeyang let go of your hand, which made your mood deflate a little. "Mind if we eat something first?" 

Everyone was starving after the boring company party, so you all moved to the kitchen. You couldn't hide your amusement over how the apartment looked like a dollhouse when trying to contain not just you, but also two grown men. You gave up on relationships ages ago, so when looking for a place to rent, you had only your own comfort in mind.

"Okay, first of all," you started when everyone was finished with their meal, "Are we all safe? While I was still in the dating game, I was always monogamous and did regular checkups. I haven't had any partners for the past four years." 

You cringed internally saying it out loud, but transparency was your number one priority. 

"I never do anything without a condom," Jaeyoon stated. 

As usual, Taeyang took a while before taking part in risky conversations.

"I do BDSM, but it hardly ever involved actual sex." 

"I can confirm that." Jaeyoon smiled smugly, propping his chin on his hand. 

Your eyes went comically wide at the implication. 

"Wait, what did I miss?! I thought you liked, in your words, people with vaginas?" You gasped, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

Taeyang's face turned equally red, except he decided to cover it with his hand. 

"Y/n, dear, he said that three and a half years ago," your friend explained. 

"Jaeyoon hyung had his part in my awakening as a submissive," Taeyang added, finally daring to look at you, "There was nothing sexual about it." 

"Except for the fact I watched you jerk off," the hyung in question clarified. 

"HEY!" The other guy got flushed again. 

You swallowed heavily, feeling your throat get dry all of sudden. Oh my God. You could barely sit still at this point. 

"We both like to watch," Jaeyoon concluded casually. 

"So… Wait a minute," you picked up, your head spinning from the information overload, "If I understand it correctly: Taeyang, you're a sub. Jaeyoon, we're both Doms."

The guys nodded in unison. 

"We're all into voyeurism."

Again, they confirmed with a single nod. 

"I can't believe. This is too good to be true," you said weakly, shaking your head with disbelief. 

"I have an idea," the older of your colleagues continued, "I don't wanna get too much inbetween you two."

Suddenly, Taeyang squeezed your hand under the table in a way that was borderline possessive. 

"But since it's supposed to be enjoyable for all of us… I could get a bit touchy with Y/n… I suppose watching us would be enough to get Taeyangie ready, am I right?" 

Taeyang looked to the side, his expression serious, but his body language unable to hide the excitement. 

"Humiliate me a little and I'll be fine," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed your hand even harder. You smiled at the feeling. 

"I have one request for you," you turned to Jaeyoon, "No kissing on the lips, no hands in each other's underwear."

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged.

"You sure?" Taeyang asked. 

"No worries, just focus on yourself," the older guy chuckled, "I'll take care of myself while watching you two have fun." 

Was it happening for real? You felt like you were dreaming.

Taeyang brought you back to reality by bringing your linked hands to rest on his thigh. 

"Do we… go all the way?" He inquired in a shy tone. 

You took your time to inhale and exhale deeply before collecting yourself enough to answer. 

"Yeah, we do."

(to be continued)

#sf9 imagine #sf9 scenario #sf9 smut #sf9 headcanon #yoo taeyang imagine #yoo taeyang scenario #yoo taeyang x reader #yoo taeyang smut #As the clock strikes midnight

[deeranger]

Fic Writer Questions!

@oddsocksandstuff tagged me in this, thank you so much, sweetie!  ❤️

 1) How many works do you have on AO3? I’ve got 40 so far (of which 25 are SPN fics). There’s more to come! 

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 486,667, apparently. That tells me each of my fics has an average wordcount of 12,166.675… Seems about right. I was never any good at keeping things short.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Uhh… On AO3 I’ve written for Supernatural, Supernatural RPF, X-men (Cherik) and McFassy (James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender). But I’ve written a lot when I was younger that has never made it online, including NCIS, Pirates of the Caribbean, and lots of weird one-shorts starring everyone from Michael J. Fox to Kevin Sorbo from “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys”. 🤨  

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “A Lesson to be Taught” – an SPN Wincest pwp fic where a dominant Dean fucks (and spanks) Sam and they discover that Dean apparently has a daddy!kink. Comes with a photo manipulation too! There be dick.    

“Taking Game” – a semi-dark medieval Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr from X-men) AU. Basically, Charles is a poacher hunting on king Erik’s land to his great dismay. And so, he’s captured and gets the choice between losing his life or serving the king for a bit… Dubcon and smut ensues.   “Only Like This” – a little SPN Wincest dub-con fic about hopelessly pining Dean doping Sam just so he can touch and kiss his oblivious little brother. It’s okay. Sam won’t remember when he comes to.   “It’s Only Carnal” – A dark SPN Wincest noncon fic where soulless!Sam needs to blow off some steam. And when it comes to carnal activities his brother isn’t exactly a novice – so why not use Dean’s body to make them both feel good?   “Demonized” – a long and dark af SPN noncon fic written in collaboration with the awesome @palishere. Sam is captured by some nasty demons who use him to lure in his brother. At first it seems the demonic scumbags are just really perverted and have a weakness for sexual torture, but they turn out to have ulterior motives…  

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes, always. I think it can be a bit demotivating for a reader to leave a comment and get zero response – and so, they might not bother to comment on the next fic. At least, that’s how I feel personally. And besides, I really want to let readers know that I appreciate them taking the time and effort to actually tell me what they think.  

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oufff… Seriously? How can I possibly pick just one when 99.8 percent of my fics are not only dark af but have gut-wrenching ambiguous endings as well? I, err… I’m gonna have to think really hard about this one, hold on… *Insert buzzing cicada sound*… Uhh… Well, I guess it might be… “Play or Pay” – a dark female!reader-insert Wincest fic where demon!Dean has you and Sam trapped somewhere underground. Sam ends up being on the receiving end of the demon’s cruelty when he tries to save you. Using Dean’s body the demon ends up raping Sam while the reader tries to escape to get help... There’s a little twist in the end. Loads of dead dove here, including death (not Dean or Sam).     “The Orange Hour” – where undercover inmate!Dean has to rape CO!Sam in order to save both of their lives and get them out of the jail in one piece. It doesn’t go completely as planned. (Comes with an nsfw photo manipulation).  “Demonized” – loads of bottom!Sam torture, full of hurt and absolutely no comfort... It’s just… I dunno, I think I and @palishere had a collective meltdown in the noncon and angst department. Sorrynotsorry.      

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, I’ve never in my life written a crossover. Usually, I’m too laser-focused on 1 obsession at a time. I can’t multitask, okay?   

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, the fandom purity police has visited me on AO3. The usual self-proclaimed know-it-alls vomiting their bullshit all over the comment section about how “problematic” noncon is and how “sick” I must be. I thought about moderating comments for a while, actually – but I just deleted their follow-up comments until they left me alone. 😤

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yes!! Gimme! Usually, I write noncon smut or just good ol’ pwps that feature some sort of dominance. That’s it. That’s my jam. In general, the only smut I don’t write is the cute, fluffy, feel-good, cuddly stuff… My smut’s usually pretty rough and/or some sort of dub/noncon.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone stole “It’s Only Carnal” and posted it as her own on some Portuguese fanfiction site. She even replied to comments, answered questions and talked about how much she loved writing it, etc… Luckily a sweet mutual on Tumblr let me know about it and I reported her for plagiarism. The stolen fic was taken down shortly after and the account deleted. Goddamn thief. 😡  

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. Honestly, I can’t remember which fic(s). But people have contacted me on AO3 and asked for permission to translate my stuff into Chinese. I have - of course - happily allowed them to. It’s such an awesome compliment to get, I think!  

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, 2. “Demonized” and the fluffy Ficfacers prompt fic “The Masks We Wear” starring Sam and Dean taking their pranks a step too far. Basically, the brothers get angry with each other and they need to talk it out… No smut in this one, can you believe it?!! But that was kinda the prompt we received. The prompt was literally: “Sam and fluff”. Anyways, both fics are co-written with the lovely @palishere. You can find her AO3 here. 😊

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Wincest!!! Definitely. Gimme all the brotherfucking, please. No contest. And coming in on second place I guess there’s Samifer – never paired consensually, though. I just love Lucifer messing with Sam’s head and torturing him in all kinds of cruel ways.    

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Oh, that’s a mean question… I have a noncon WIP where Sam and Dean are in prison. I wrote a whole story outline, gathered my own little dictionary of prison slang, etc… But I never made it past page 10 or something. Sam was supposed to get jumped by a gang of inmates and then Dean was supposed to helplessly watch from the sideline, offering to trade places if they’d just leave his little brother alone… And after that it’s all about a mix of healing and vengeance… But the story has been lying on the shelf for more than a year and I doubt I’ll ever continue it. Oh, wait! I almost forgot – I have a long Cherik WIP sequel to “To Have and to Hold”! Just checked, its wordcount is 18,729! Holy crap…. What a waste, huh? But I honestly don’t think I’ll ever finish it, because I’m not into Cherik anymore. That ship has kinda sunk for me…. So, now I’m hyperfixating on Supernatural, yeah?     

16) What are your writing strengths? Description, I think. I just love details and setting the mood. I like to think I’m pretty good at writing in English too even though it isn’t my native language… I wish to be better and expand my vocabulary but I’m doing okay nonetheless.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, I think. Yes, you read correctly. I often describe things TOO much. Sometimes to the extent where the pacing gets so slowed down that I feel like the scene loses its ‘feel’. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but that’s my major concern about my writing. That and my signature ambiguous endings, lol.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Love it. It can be difficult to pull off, but if you get it right it can be magical. Just don’t overdo it and make sure that the reader can follow. I don’t think I have any fics online where I do it, but I’m not a complete stranger to it either.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ack, my poor brain trying to go back to when I was friggin’ 13… You know how many years ago that was?! 25!!! Okay!? *Huffs*…. Anyway, I THINK it might’ve been Keanu Reeves’ character in “Johnny Mnemonic”. Or maybe David James Elliott’s character as Harmon Rabb in the early seasons of “JAG”. I dunno. Either way this question makes me feel really old and I don’t appreciate it. Don’t @ me. 😅   

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? That’s probably a tie between “The Orange Hour” and “It’s Only Carnal”. They’ve both got nice pacing and that’s my biggest challenge, I think. Also, I love the whole Morse code thing in “The Orange Hour”. I don’t even know what happened or how I came up with it, but hey, I can surprise myself if I want to, I guess! And of course there’s the smutty noncon and all of the hurt… So, those two fics are my personal faves. 😏  

I’ll tag @jackandthesoulmates, @pinkoptics, @palishere, @wrenseroticlibrary, @decadent-prince, @negans-lucille-tblr, @juinae and @impala-dreamer and everyone else who feels like doing it! Feel free to ignore, of course. 

#dee answers #fanfiction questions #personal

[kaita0]

Game of Cat and Mouse

Pair: Yandere Dabi x Fem!Reader, Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, , Degradation, Throat fucking, 

Notes: I personally love the idea of Aizawa and Dabi together. Not like shipped together but as a duo courting the reader. They are both hot bimbo looking motherfuckers. And you can’t tell me the two wouldn’t play Bad Cop and Good Cop with the reader. Dabi is the meanie, always rough and teasing with you. But Aizawa is the one that gives you what you want first. And please tell me you liked it because I literally stayed up to finish it-

You looked between the two males. They were glaring each other down. ‘I’m in danger’ Ran through your head as you continued to look between the two. “She isn’t going with you, Villain,” Aizawa states firmly. Dabi scoffs. “And she’s going with you? Don’t make me laugh.” Dabi taunts, his hands deep into his jacket pocket. A cocky grin upon his lips. Aizawa grabs your wrists, you tensed and let out a surprise gasp. “She’s coming with me. And that’s final.” A dark chuckle escaped Dabi’s lips. He moved his hand to shield his face. His lip lifts up into a dangerous smirk. Dabi’s figure began to light up. 

A ting of blue outlining his body. The area was thick with tension, you couldn’t even cut it with a knife. Dabi’s hand wrapped around your other wrist quickly, holding you between the two men. You began to think about what would have happened if you didn’t use the short cut to get home. “Fucking stupid ass bitch.” You mumbled to yourself. The two men completely ignored your words and continued to glare another down. Dabi tried to pull you behind him but Aizawa also tried to do that. Which resulted in your shirt ripping in half and revealed your tank top. In the tank top was your breast. 

It took the two aback when they bounced. A sharp gasp of air escaped your lips The two men were surprised to see the display before them. A bead of sweat dripped between your breast and the two watched it travel down. The two gulped in anticipation and were quick to let you go. You fell on your bottom, you hiss out in pain. “Ow. Slam me on the fucking ground next time, and hopefully break my nose.” You growled out, leaning to the side to rub your bottom. Your eyes were closed and your eyebrows were furrowed. Dabi stood beside Aizawa. The two had their eyes on you the whole time. 

The thick aura of aggression became something else. You hesitated to open your eyes and you regretted it soon after. You scramble away from them, hitting a brick wall in the process. You couldn’t leave their eyes, the fear of looking away ate at you. Dabi had a shit-eating grin on his lips. Dabi elbowed Aizawa a bit. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Eraser?” Dabi questions, dragging out the word eraser. Aizawa’s lips lift up into a scowl. “Don’t touch me, Villain.” He mutters. Aizawa makes his way towards your retreating form. He bent down before you, his dull eyes looking over your shivering form. His hand reaches out to caress your cheeks. You were frozen in fear, your breathing became sharp and rigid. “Ha, So we are?” Dabi smirks. “Don’t be an idiot. You villains are never rational.” Aizawa growls, turning his head to glare at Dabi. You take a deep breath in and begin to talk. “How about we all take a step back? Calm down. And let me go.” You were cut off by rattling and rings from a belt. 

“No can do, princess,” Dabi smirks, beginning to unbuckle his belt. Your eyes widened in fear and worry. Your hands were quick to grab Aizawa, holding onto him as tight as possible. He’s a hero so he should be able to save her. Aizawa looks down at you, pressed against his chest. Eyes shut closed and lips puckered. Aizawa’s eyes lingered on your lips. Dabi stood before the two, his eyes darkened as his eyes traveled down your form. You gulped and pressed into Aizawa more, clutching onto his arm tightly. Aizawa’s eyes wandered from your lips down to your hips. And those beautiful legs. It made him bite his lower lips.

His hand slithers down to your hips, keeping you closer to him. Your eyes widened at the feeling of her breast being cupped by massive hands. Your eyes quickly move over to see Aizawa, his eyes dark and hazy. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.” You cry out, your eyes pleading as you stared Aizawa down. Aizawa’s expression was still stoic as he ran his hands up and down your body. More tears fall down your cheeks as the weight of the scene way down onto you. You bit back your sobs. “Oh, Princess. Don’t cry, we’ll be gentle.” Dabi uses his fingers to lift your pretty little head up. 

His lips crack up into a sadistic smirk. “In the beginning.” He growls out. Your body trembles more as uncontrollable sobs escaped your plump lips. Dabi grabs your arm, shushing you against his chest. Before you can even mutter a word, you felt someone grabbing your sweatpants. Your eyes widened when your pants are yanked down and pools at your ankles. The cold air hitting your delicate skin and making goosebumps line along your thighs and legs. A warm set of hands wraps around your thigh, kneading it softly. A set of arms wrap around your waist pushes you even closer to Dabi’s body. 

A deep chuckles escapes his lips as his hands run up along your body, cupping your breast and massaging them. “Such lovely tits, babe.” He purrs into your ear but you were in a trance. Your eyes were screwed shut and lips parted. Dabi’s lips perk up into a smirk at this. A mysterious feeling of victory and lust consuming his body, it made him feel powerful. Different. Out of Character. His mouth latches onto your neck where he starts to bite lightly. ‘Do you know how long I have been watching you? Such a fine thing like you cooped up in a bad place like this.” Dabi confesses. 

That’s when it hits you like a truck. He was the one giving you the feeling of never being alone. When you were in your home, he was always there, watching. Strangely the feeling went straight to your pussy, your legs becoming weak. Dabi watched your body intently, his electric sapphire blue eyes outlining your form. “Oh you like that? Well let me fill you in. Every single time you had your hands buried in that little pussy I was there. Your closet door cracked enough so I could watch the whole thing.’ A tingle ran down your spine, a squeaky moan escapes your throat. Resulting in a jealous scoff slipping out of Aizawa’s lips. “Cut the chit chat. I have things to do.” Aizawa grumbles out. 

Dabi’s eyes lightening up in amusement. “Of course, Oh so great Eraserhead. Now Baby girl, Did you hear what he said?” You open your eyes to look up at Dabi. His index finger at the tip of your chin to make you meet his gaze. “Be a good girl for us, alright?” You didn’t respond yet, thinking of your options. Dabi is a villain, not just a small time villain but League of Villains Villain. And he stalked her before this. And then there is the suppose big time hero, Eraserhead. If you calculated correctly, even if you tried, you would never be able to get away from them. You can’t even lie to yourself either, the two were very eye catching. 

Dabi taps his finger against your cheek. “Come on Princess, I need an answer some time in the present.” You let a breath in and nod slowly. “I-I’ll be good.” You mutter quietly. A wide cocky grin appears on Dabi’s lips and a warm hum is heard from Aizawa. It didn’t take long for you to be on all fours on the ground. Aizawa behind you and Dabi in front. 

You have Dabi shoving his full length down your throat, mercilessly thrusting powerfully without warning. And then there is Aizawa who prepares you gently. He may want this to be over with as quickly as possible but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a gentleman. (When he wants to be-) Aizawa places his dick at your entrance. Lubing up his member with your slick juices and slips in. Your walls clenched around his length, which created a groan to be chocked out of him. “Fuck,” He grumble as he slowly rotates his hips. 

Meanwhile Dabi was ruthlessly pounding into your mouth. Your spit and his pre-cum dripping down your chin and onto the floor below. A cocky grin on Dabi’s lips as he watches your face. “Yeah, Make those slutty ass faces for me.” His hand falling upon the back of your head and pulling you down his dick more. With your mouth taking his whole member, a breathy moan is held under his breath as blood rushes through his body at the sight of your blissed out form. But his blood boils when you recoil, turning to look at Aizawa. “P-Please go faster.” Your voice was caught in your throat as you glanced at Aizawa one final time and getting back to work with Dabi. 

Dabi growls at this and slams your head back onto his cock. “You have the audacity to remove my pleasure for your own.” The harsh thrusts into your throat made tears swell up at the corners of your eyes. Aizawa is now smirking, loving the struggling moans escaping from you. “You poor baby, You want me to go faster, Whatever you say goes.” He grabs your hips and unleashes his full length making you cry out onto Dabi’s cock. 

After they were done with their relentless thrusts, You were more than tired. Your body almost giving out when you saw Dabi was hard for the third time. And Aizawa didn’t even blow his load in that same time period. But like the gentleman he “was” Dabi took you back home. Before he left you there, he promised you there would be another time. But just him and you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t beaming with excitement. 

#dabi smut #kaita-senpai drabbles #smutty kaita #girrrrrrrrrl- #boooyyyyyyyyyyyy- #x female reader #female reader #fem!reader

[likesomekindofcheese]

Punishment (The Great blurb)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of sex and nudity, almost death, drowning (but saved)

From Anon request:  Hi, first of all I'd like to say I absolutely love your writing. Second of all could I request a fic for Grigor Dymov? I had this idea based on the scene where Catherine is in the chest and Peter throws it into the lake. Instead of Catherine it could be the reader and Grigor is really concerned and orders for the chest to be removed from the water and is then all cute and caring for the reader. I know its pretty lame...I've got kinda bad writers block at the moment.

A/N: Sure thing! Good luck with the writers block- and thank you! This was lovely to write!

You woke up into darkness. No morning light. No familiar bedroom. Only darkness.

How on earth did you get here? What were you doing here?

It was rocky. Panic shook you awake as you blinked your eyes open. Your fingers began to reach out to feel your surroundings. Everything felt wooden. It was a rectangular shape. There was a bit of grey light peeking in the form of a thin line just over your head.

How did I get there? Did someone do something to me?

You were in a chest large enough to stuff you inside, you figured. Feeling your own body, you were still in your night clothes. Blinking and pinching yourself, you felt the pain. There was even the cold air from outside seeping in. This wasn’t a dream.

It shook and you felt it being lifted with the huffs of masculine breaths and voices just outside. You took your fists and beat against the wood.

“Who’s there! Is someone there?” Please let me out!” you cried.

There was no response.

“I’m inside! There’s someone in the chest!” you yelled.

When you pushed up against the lid, you realized it was locked tight.  From the inside there was no way of unlocking it from your frantic inspection and what little you could see. Then you heard the rush and bauble of water right outside. And it came pouring through the cracks. First as a puddle. Then more. And more. And more.

Girgor stood outside next to Peter watching the servants take the chest into the river. It was a chilly morning. The sky was overcast, and the trees were either bare or brown. His fur hat itched on top of his head. Guards in dark coats and beards stood all around them watching apathetically. Glancing at Peter, the Emperor’s eyes were dark, and his hands folded. His gaze downward. His lips curled into a smirk. But Grigor felt his stomach turn sour at the sight of the servants lowering the chest into the lake. He heard your voice clearly and clenched his fists.

Already it was halfway down. Y/N’s pleas turned into frightened screams.

“HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HELP PLEASE!”

Her cries rung haunted into his eardrums as if she were being set alight with fire rather than being buried in water.

“SOMEONE! ANYONE!” followed by a scream that made him feel cold despite his clothes.

His hands fidgeting, he sucked in a quick breath through his nose. He turned to Peter.

“Don’t you think she’s learned her lesson?” he suggested.

Peter snarled.

“The bitch fucking called me a piece of shit unfit to rule. She needs to be taught a lesson. No one gets away with calling me names.”

“Well, she didn’t say a ‘piece of shit.’ If I remember the report correctly,” Grigor said.

“She still said I was a bad Emperor!”

There was another scream, the chest was getting lower.

“But…she is being punished and doesn’t know why. I don’t think anyone told her that was why this was happening…they stole her when she was just sleeping! And Peter-wouldn’t you rather be known for your mercy to those who have the little slip up?”

“I’ll be seen as weak! And insulting your sovereign ruler isn’t just a little ‘slip up!’”

“You could…tell her not do it again, she will know why she’s being punished…and you’ll be celebrated. And then she won’t do it again. Peter the Merciful. Peter the Saintly. Peter the Beloved- how does that sound to you? I don’t think Peter-who-drowns-women has the same ring to it!”

He blinked, then stared blankly at the chest.

“If you’re not feeling merciful- let her walk back to the palace in her state. Don’t give her death as quick mercy-but just rather let her suffer humiliation. She could be back in court in half-drowned with everyone knowing what was done. It will stain her life more. That would be even worse than just killing her off- don’t you think?”

There was no response. Peter’s mouth twitched slightly and his eyes looked a little brighter.

There was another scream. The chest was almost lowered completely. If nothing happened, you were doomed.

“I guess…that would be worse…” Peter said.

Running forward, Grigor motioned to the servants in a panic. The Emperor behind him didn’t stop him.

“Stop the chest-bring it up- now! Bring it fucking up! There’s someone in there!” he barked

They glanced at Peter who nodded coldly.

They brought the chest back up out of the lake. The water dripping down created mud beneath their shoes. You could be heard grasping for breath inside.

“Open it,” Grigor ordered.

They pulled open the lock and out dumped leftover water and you.

You coughed out what water you swallowed by accident. Your hair was dripping from your head and your fingers were wrinkled. Although you had landed on your hands and knees, you nearly teared up at the sight or earth and grass. You took in desperate gulps of air, inhaling life until it stung your insides.

You looked up and saw the Emperor, Grigor, and some guards. Looking down, you put your arms over yourself. Your nightgown was drenched, and all these men might be able to have a look of your body now outlined through the soaked, white dress made sheer. Shivering already, the water did nothing to protect you from the icy air.

“Mademoiselle Y/N, do you acknowledge you were wrong?” Emperor Peter scolded.

“About what?” you asked.

“Told you,” Grigor muttered.

“My spies reported to me what you said last night. Are you sorry? Do you take back your words and say I am fit to rule Russia?” Peter asked.

You blinked open, suddenly recalling. You thought no one else could hear it. It was at the crowded party last night and it was to a friend you had in court. Or thought you had.

Grigor walked forward. At first you shifted your weight back, your arms desperately shielding any private bits that could be visible from your soaked, white gown but he put his hands up in peace. He leaned down and took off his fur hat, placing it on your head. Then he removed his fur coat, placing it around your shoulders. It was large enough it covered you entirely.

“Th…thank you…” you sputtered to him.

“Yes, I know I’m merciful and brilliant and have a massive cock and you should be grateful…but are you sorry?” Peter demanded.

Grigor helped you stand up. His eyes at you were wide like a dog begging for scraps of meat.

The new warmth from the fur hat on your head and the protection of his coat gave you strength in your voice.

“Yes….I’m sorry. I take back my words. You are fit to rule,” you said obediently.

“Well, good. And you can walk back to the palace…we have horses waiting for us.”

The fur stayed on you on the walk back. The guards followed Peter like a murder of crows around his horse. Your feet stung from the rocks and pebbles beneath. You had no shoes or stockings. Dirt got all over and there was a slight cut near your toe. There was even a blister growing on your right foot.

Once the large, grey palace was in sight you saw that Peter’s horse and his guards had vanished. But there was one familiar figure, jogging up to you.

“Y/N…are you alright?” Grigor questioned.

“I…I’m…I’m just in shock,” you answered.

“Here-you’ve walked enough!”

“Wha-oh!”

Suddenly he took his arm under you and his other arm went down to your legs. Before you could respond he was carrying you, rushing to the palace and walking inside. Feeling your feet dangling from the other end, you seemed weightlessness. Grigor’s handsome profile was right over your face and your breath stopped at the sight.

He headed up the grand staircase and through a door to the hallway.

A few courtiers seeing you both gasped and murmured. Heads decorated with wigs ran up to look at you. A few servants rushed up.

“Where is her chambers- she needs help” he ordered. “Mademoiselle Y/N almost drowned-we need blankets and warm clothes and hot broth-now!”

There was a scattering of feet. You saw the brown wood and chandeliers over your head, as well as a stag’s head mounted on the wall, antlers twisting to the heavens. Grigor helped you down to a maid who helped you up and walked you to your room.

Two hours later, you sat with a dry nightgown, a thick robe, and a blanket made from a bear’s fur over your lap as you sat in your chair next to a crackling fire. You held a bowl of hot broth and sipped the last bit.

At a knock of the door, you voiced out “you can enter.”

Grigor walked in.

“I…I wanted to see how you were doing…” he commented.

You stood up, setting the bowl and blanket aside.

“I’m better…and alive thanks to you…though I still have your hat and coat.”

Gesturing to the writing desk, Grigor picked up the clothes and kept them in his arms.

“I’m so sorry this happened. Y/N, please be careful…please…” he begged.

You nodded.

“I will be” you promised, “I heard you order the chest out of the water. You saved me today. I saw how mad the Emperor was at you, but you did it anyway…for that, I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Walking up to him, you took his hands. Pulling them to your lips, you kissed the knuckles.

“But…I must say it again…thank you, Grigor.”

He grinned. You felt hotter than all the blankets in the world could make you feel at the sight.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, Mademoiselle.”

Taglist: @sgt-stardust-killerqueen​ @queenlover05​ @itsametaphorgwil​ @foxinaforestofstars​ @iwritefanficnotprophecies​ @simonedk​ @panagiasikelia​ @grigorlee​ @fueled-by-novocaine​ @xviiarez​ @vintage-and-hypnotic​ @raerae27​ @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night​

#carrie writes #the great #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #nicholas hoult #gwilym lee #welsh disney prince #grigor #grigor x you #grigor x reader #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #grigor dymov x fem! reader

[the-goddamn-queen]

The Girl I Thought You Were

Bucky Barnes x Readers

Warnings: swearing, brief death/torture mention, zero knowledge of the legal system

Word Count: 2058

Summary: Scoring a position working for the Avengers reveals a lot more about your past than you anticipated.

A/N: For @sunmoonandbucky​‘s 1.5k Constellations Challenge! My prompt was the Legally Blonde line “if you’re going to let one stupid prick ruin your life, you’re not the girl I thought you were.” Post-Endgame, but no one died.

You were lucky, you suppose, with the job you’d managed to find. The snap yanked you out of your senior year of college, and when it spit you back out, you didn’t have a degree or the money to finish it.

A non-descript assistant position wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was something, plus they were offering housing for people who’d been ‘blipped.’

You walk up to the shoddy office building, second guessing yourself at every step, but what other choice did you have? You reach the door and give it a firm tug, stumbling backwards when it doesn’t open as you expect it to. You try a few more times with the same result. Had you gotten the time wrong? The address? What this a set up? Your anxiety spikes, and you begin to back away when an Irish woman’s voice prompts you for your name and appointment time.

You manage your name through chattering teeth. “I-I’m just here for the assistant interview.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Stark’s 3:00.”

Mr. Stark? As in Tony? It couldn’t be.

The door swings open of its own accord to reveal a completely normal office space.

Completely normal, that is, until you step through the hologram straight into a very high-tech elevator.

You barely have time to register the change before the door slams behind you and the elevator starts to drop.

A few moments later, you’re spit out the other side of the elevator into a surprisingly plush conference room.

“Six months away from graduating top honors in political science and intelligence from Columbia University. What happened?”

You snap from your daze to focus on the voice in front of you. The man who spoke was still covering his face with your file, but you’d recognize his voice anywhere. “You’re Ironman.”

“And you were on course to be recruited by the CIA. What. Happened?”

You cleared your throat in attempt to rid your voice of any nervousness. “The university wouldn’t reinstate my scholarship when I, uh, came back, and I didn’t exactly have the money to finish paying since my accounts had been closed for…five years.” It felt weird saying it out loud.

Tony dropped the file to look you over. “Well that’s shitty.” His blunt choice of words shocks you a bit. “I’ll have to have a word with board about that one.” Tony stands and flicks his wrist, opening up a holographic screen that he starts tapping on. “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll get your degree.”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t understand. Is this part of the interview?”

“Interview?” He shakes his head. “No interview. You have the job,” he says as he rounds the table, “this is more of an…” he gestures vaguely to the room, “orientation.”

“So, am I to be your assistant, Mr. Stark?” you question. You’re still pretty confused considering the situation.

Tony gives you a strange look. “Assistant? Is that what FRIDAY posted?” He huffed a laugh and went back to punching at the hologram. “And you can do away with the formalities, kid, ‘Tony’s fine.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Tony waved away the floating screen and faced you. “I had FRIDAY mockup an ad to attract you specifically,” he said pointing at you, “which is funny to me ‘cause your resume’s too damn good for an assistant.”

You stiffen. He was right, of course, but your field wanted a degree. “Who’s Friday?”

“My assistant.” He takes a step forward and claps a hand on your shoulder making you jump. “And you’re our new government liaison. Welcome to the Avengers.” He pulls away. “Let me show you to your room.”

 The fake office/bunker, it turned out, was temporary while the compound was rebuilt, and being the government liaison basically meant you were the face of the Avengers during negotiations. And no matter what you said, Tony insisted that you were the only person for the job.

You were pretty sure, though, that he was just desperate because the first assignment he gives you is the renegotiation of the Sokovia Accords.

You spend the next month pouring over the original documents and interviewing various Avengers for affidavits.

Steve and Natasha help you outline the full events of the Battle of New York, Wanda gives her own account of the battle with Ultron, and Bucky, poor Bucky, gives you every single detail of how Hydra tortured and brainwashed him.

Clearly, he liked talking to you, though, because after that, he started stopping in pretty regularly, bringing you food, coffee. One time he actually brought a pillow to your office because he caught you asleep on your desk.

A few days later, he brought a blanket.

 The day before the hearing, he brings you two takeout boxes and two forks.

“Am I supposed to double fist this orange chicken?” You’re surprised manage humor through your focus.

“Of course not.” He drags a chair from the corner and plops down across from you.

You glace up, brows furrowed. “I’m done with interviews, you know. You don’t have to hang out with me.” You weren’t trying to kick him out or anything, you just didn’t want him to feel obligated.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies with a mouth full of food.

You stab your fork into the chicken. “Why do you keep doing all this?”

“Why do you keep doing all this?” Bucky counters, gesturing to the plethora of notes you have laid out for tomorrow. You’d been studying them since daybreak to make sure it was perfect.

“It’s my job,” you say defensively, shuffling some of the papers out of his reach.

“A job that you’ve repeatedly claimed you’re not qualified for,” he points out.

“I’m just anxious, okay?” You sigh. “I’ve been going over old videos, and there’s this one fucking senator—”

“Who’s not there anymore.” You both know why. He was Hydra.

“Sure, but there’s always going to be more like him.”

“Look, if you’re going to let one stupid prick ruin your life, you’re not the girl I thought you were.”

You look up at him, shocked by his choice of words. “And who, exactly, do you think I am?”

“Why’d you take the job?” It wasn’t a question, really. He believed in you, they all did, he just wanted you to admit it.

“Well,” you have to word it right, “my parents were SHIELD—”

“You’re lying.”

Your eyes pop. He knows. Of course, he knows. Who else does? Tony, probably. Nat, definitely. Columbia, for sure. It was the real reason they took your scholarship, well before Thanos got to you. The history wipe, the name change. None of it could’ve lasted, anyway.

You take a deep breath, eyes down. You’re not sure you can look at him now.

“My parents were Hydra.” You steal a glance. Bucky’s eyes are sympathetic. You wonder if he knew them. “Hardly knew them, though.”

“You grew up in the Red Room.”

You nod. “I escaped when Hydra fell. I wanted to be better. I had to be better.” A tear drips onto the corner of one of your pages, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “But I’m a fucking pariah.”

You feel Bucky slide one of his hands into yours, and you squeeze down, using it as an anchor as you sob. “Me too.”

You stutter and look up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He shakes his head to cut you off. “I just tried to hide it but I couldn’t keep it up I got found out and kicked out –”

As you ramble, you don’t notice Bucky rounding the desk until he wraps his arms around you, effectively shutting you up.

You instinctively reach your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder as you cling to him. “I just wanted to start over.” He lowers the two of you down until you’re practically sitting in his lap, your face still buried in his neck. Bucky smooths his hand over your back as the tears die down.

“You’re gonna get your second chance, doll,” he whispers into your hair, “that’s why you’re here.” Then he adds quietly, “that’s why we’re all here.”

 You could almost feel Secretary Ross’s eyes burning a hole into your head, but he’s not your problem at the moment. The panel of senators sitting in front of you were much more important. You’d given them everything, you just hope you can handle whatever they throw back at you.

A few of the committee members that had been convening finally pulled their heads away from each other. One of the women leaned into her mic.

“Miss, is it true you were once part of the Soviet training program ‘The Red Room?’”

Your heart clenched. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And how did you find yourself in this program?” she pressed.

“I don’t see how this is relevant—”

“Just answer the question.”

You take a deep breath and glace over to Bucky. He offers a warm smile, nodding at you to continue. He has faith in you, it’s all you need.

“My parents were members of the shadow organization, Hydra—”

“The Nazi organization—”

“If you would allow me to answer your question, senator,” you fire back, “and if I remember correctly, a number of your colleagues were involved in Hydra as well.”

“They are answering for their crimes—”

“And my parents died for theirs.” A stunned silence fell over the courtroom. “They threw me into the Red Room when I was three years old. Hell bent on turning their own daughter into a weapon.” You were half standing now, but still leaned in on your mic. “They ruined my life. I carry no allegiance to them or the organization that tried to brainwash me and countless others. I was lucky. I escaped and got to go after my second chance. Thanks to the Avengers, we all got a second chance.”

It starts with one person, but it doesn’t take for the entire gallery to erupt into applause. The committee head practically has to yell into his mic about reconvening the next morning. It wasn’t over, but you sure as hell made an impression.

 “Don’t you think this celebration is a little pre-mature?” you ask as Tony hands you the glass bottle.

“No way, kid,” he insists, “you earned that beer. You did us proud today.”

You smile and start to turn from the bar but stumble back when you smack straight into a pillar.

“Shit, sorry, you alright?” Oh, okay. Not a pillar. You look up.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, not realizing you still had a hand on Bucky’s chest.

He smiles down at you. “Walk with me?” He offers an elbow.

“Sure.”

The two of you wander the hallways for a while before you stop him. “You knew me didn’t you? In Hydra?”

Bucky parts hips lips for a moment and then nods, and you see his eyes get glassy.

“Bucky, what is it?”

“Nothing, really,” he shakes his head and you can tell he’s fighting tears. “Yeah, I knew you.”

“I didn’t know you though. Bucky why are you crying?”

A tear escapes and he chokes on a sob. “Because I watched you die.”

You feel it then. The echo of the electricity weaving its way into your head, latching onto bits and pieces of memories and frying them into obscurity. The realization hits you, and you grasp at Bucky’s face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You let the blue run over you until your own tears start to fall. “I didn’t die,” you reassure him, smoothing with wet cheeks with your thumbs.

“They let me think it killed you.”

You choke out a laugh. “You know it takes a hell of a lot more than that to kill me.”

He smiles at that and pulls you a little closer. “You really are the girl I thought you were.”

You take a deep breath and lean in just enough to press you lips to his. Bucky sighs into you and returns the kiss. The two of you stay that way for as long as possible, letting the connection work a balm over the charred parts of your brain until all that was left was the memories of him.

“They made you forget me,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I could never forget you.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge

[lovemesomerafael]

Under The Influence

Peter Stone one-shot (NSFW)

This is a writing exercise I did to try to write in present tense, because @mforpaul does that and I really like it.  It’s also Smutty McSmutface, which @mforpaul also does really well, but I am responsible for my own smut.  (I’m so ashamed.)  It’s long AF, sorry about that, but did I mention smut?

Shout out to @peter-stone and @thomas1340 because Peter Stone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter Stone can’t believe his Monday morning is going to start with a garden-variety drunk driving arrest.  He thought he’d graduated from these ten years ago.  But when the suspect owns a major international oil conglomerate, D.A. Jack McCoy doesn’t want the news showing pictures of a junior-level A.D.A. handling the case.  So Peter finds himself trying to drink his tall, double-shot, caramel macchiato with extra foam and run at the same time, because he’s late.

Alyson Sanders’ heels were not made for walking the long, tiled halls of a police station.  Truth be told, they weren’t made for walking at all.  And Alyson has no business being in a police station.  Her last exposure to criminal law was as a first-year law student, and it was the last time she’d wanted to think about it.  But Chester Palerisian had called her at an ungodly hour this morning, drunk as a skunk and demanding that she get him out of jail.  So here she is.  She should have had an associate handle this, and she would have, except that it’s Palerisian himself, and she just knows what she’ll have to listen to if he isn’t represented by someone whose name is on the door of the firm.  Of course, having her name on the door of a firm that doesn’t do criminal law should mean that she doesn’t have to deal with the drunken fuckery of an overbred clown like Chester Palerisian.  But his ownership of CTP Oil, and its status as one of her firm’s most lucrative clients, means that she does.

Alyson walks up to the Desk Sergeant she’s been directed to, and asks to meet with her client.  Then she waits, taking the opportunity to look around at the diverse and fascinating group of people waiting with her.  She listens to the conversations she can overhear, trying to identify languages and intrigued by the dramas going on around her.  She is almost sorry when the Desk Sergeant calls her and escorts her to an interview room. 

The room has the standard one-way mirror, which shows that today’s wet fog has done Alyson’s hair no favors.  She congratulates herself on going wavy and messy with her long blonde bob today, because that was how it was going to end up, anyway.  There is also the standard long, metal table with scratches, dents, and metal loops for handcuffing suspects who threaten to get out of control.  The room reeks of alcohol.  To be precise, her client, sitting on one of the mismatched and battered chairs haphazardly surrounding the table in a suit that had cost several thousand dollars and was probably now beyond repair, reeks of alcohol.  The minute he opens his mouth, it is clear he is still very, very drunk.

“Aly!  Thank God.  Get me the fuck out of here,” he says, standing as though she is just going to lead him out this minute. 

“That’s why I’m here, Chet.  Are you all right?”

“Does this look all right to you?  I’m in fucking handcuffs, for fuck’s sake!  What am I, a criminal?”

Alyson is just annoyed enough to consider answering that question, but she hasn’t gotten to where she is by giving in to impulses.  “All right, I just wanted to check on you before we talk to the cops.  If you’re ready, I’ll let them in.  And you are not going to say one word, all right?  Let me do all the talking.”

“Fine, fine.  I’m not stupid.”

On that wildly debatable note, Alyson suddenly realizes she has no idea how to summon whoever they need to meet with, presumably the cops and maybe an ADA.  She puts her briefcase and purse down on the table to stall for time.  Fortunately, very quickly thereafter, the door opens and tall, pretty man walks in, his very well-cut suit outlining what appears to be an insane body underneath. 

Peter will later thank God for muscle memory, because the minute he comes through the door and sees the defendant’s attorney, time stops.  “I’m ADA Peter Stone,” he says automatically, holding out a hand, because that’s what he always does when he walks into this room.  If Peter had to think his way through this moment, the beautiful blonde would be standing there holding his hand while he had feverish sexual fantasies about her for a very long time.  His vision is actually fuzzy, which tells him that, in addition to the things happening lower down in his body, his eyes are already dilating with lust.  He has never seen a better-looking woman in real life. 

Her hair looks as though it is doing exactly what she intended, although what it’s doing is making him picture himself doing things to her to get it gorgeously tousled like that.  Her beautiful suit is tailored by a master, and her hand feels warm and soft and feminine and holy shit the dirty thoughts going through Peter’s head right this minute.  She is wearing very small gold earrings, and he wants to nibble on them, for some reason. 

Peter is fortunate enough that the woman’s moronic client begins to speak at that moment, stirring the alcohol reek in the room and reminding him why he is here. 

“Well, this is my lawyer, Alyson Sanders.  Of Ogilvie, Sanders and…  somebody else.” 

Alyson’s contemplation of the way the ADA is looking at her is interrupted, and she’s not happy about it.  The man looks like he’s about to take a bite out of her, and she’s down with that plan. 

“Fishbach,” Alyson says, still holding Peter Stone’s hand and looking into his eyes.  The voice that comes out is not her usual “meeting opposing counsel” voice.

“Hmmm?”  Peter asks, not letting go of her hand, either.

“Fishbach.  My other partner’s name.  Jared Fishbach.”  The blush of shame at such a stupid statement begins very low on Alyson’s chest and blooms, rapidly and hotly, up her body.   

“Right,” Peter says, realizing with a minute shake of his head that he needs to release her hand.  “And your name is…”

“Aly.  Alyson Sanders.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sanders,” Peter says, and shakes her hand again.  Both notice at the same time that this is a bit redundant, but they still shake.  They just laugh nervously as they do it, and drop their hands quickly.  “Ogilvie, Sanders…  I wasn’t aware your firm does criminal defense.”

“We don’t,” Alyson responds, grateful she knows this one.  Her neurons are not working correctly.  She notes, however, that her autonomic nervous system is humming along nicely, increasing her heart and respiratory rate and hardening her nipples, as well as dilating capillaries and stimulating lubrication.  Because damn.  The way this Peter Stone has just the very slightest lisp when he says her name should be at least a Class C Felony.  Don’t think about punishment, Aly.  Don’t think about punishment.  Client.  Opposing counsel.  Not spanking.  Work mode.

“I guess I should explain,” she tries to fake coherence.  “My firm represents Mr. Palerisian’s business interests.  When he was arrested, he called me.  I’ll be representing him for the time being, but I’m likely to be replaced at some point.”

“I see,” Peter answers, moving to sit down at the table in hopes she won’t notice that his legs are actually shaking.  Also in hopes she won’t notice other things in the neighborhood of his legs that he is helpless to control now that he’s had a whiff of her perfume.  He can’t remember the last time he had an involuntary hard on.  “Well, I just need to ask your client some questions.”

“Right.  I thought you might want to do that, but I’m afraid we’re not going to be answering any questions this morning.  He’s been arrested, correct?”

“He has.”

“What are you charging him with?”

“Second offense aggravated DUI, felony assault, resisting arrest, disorderly conduct, and misdemeanor possession of marijuana.”

“What do we need to do to get him released?”

“He’s charged with 2 felonies and 3 misdemeanors.  He can’t be released until he’s been arraigned, and even then he’ll only be released pending trial if the judge allows it.”

“That is bullshit!”  Palerisian shouts, standing abruptly and basically falling onto the table, which fortunately is bolted to the floor. 

“Chet, I got this,” Alyson says, giving him a steadying hand to sit back down.

“Fuck that!  I’m not staying here one more minute.  I demand to see this guy’s supervisor!”

“Chet, ‘this guy’s supervisor’ is the District Attorney.  He’s got better things to do.  And you’re not in a position to demand anything.  Let me do my job.”

“I want out of here!”

Alyson wants out of here, too, but she doesn’t yell it and kick her feet into the table leg like a three-year-old.  Instead, she asks whether it would be possible for her and Mr. Stone to meet privately.  She immediately regrets her choice of words, because it sounds very much like she’s asking for the other thing she really wants right this minute.

“Of course,” Peter responds, standing up.  He ignores Palerisian, who is making toddler noises and asking what’s happening, opens the door for Alyson and waves her into the hallway. 

He escorts her across the hall to a small meeting room.  As she passes him, she purposely moves too close.  She has to see if he smells as good as she thinks he will.  Oh, holy fuck.  He smells better.  Without her consent, Alyson’s hypothalamus sends a signal to divert additional blood and energy to her autonomic nervous system.  She really doesn’t need to be this turned on right now.  She is a bit lightheaded – there’s only so much blood to go around, after all – so she sets her briefcase and purse on a chair and sits down at the battered little wooden table that dominates the tiny room.

“My client is…”  She begins, faltering almost immediately.

Peter raises an eyebrow.

She smiles then, tilting her head with a twisted, wry grin.  “A petulant, entitled asshat.”

“So stipulated,” he grins despite himself.

“Unfortunately, that’s not illegal.  Prisons are overcrowded enough already.  So let’s talk about his actual crime.  Bail?”

“I can live with releasing him to you, but he surrenders his drivers’ license.”

Her face clouds over, just a little.  Just enough that he knows she is letting him see it.  “Yeah…”

“That’s a gift, Ms. Sanders.”

“Oh, I fully recognize that.  You’re clearly a man willing to make deals.  But I think that, in this case, maybe not as much of a gift as you’d think.”

“I won’t go ROR.”

“No.  And I wouldn’t ask you to.  I’m thinking more in the neighborhood of a reasonable bail.”

Peter looks at her with surprise.  “Ms. Sanders, I was offering to release him to your recognizance.  No bail.”

“Mr. Stone…  Peter.  May I call you Peter?”

“Of course.”  Call me Daddy.  Call me anything the fuck you want. 

“I understand your offer.  I just don’t accept it.”

“You understand that, if he has to bond out, it’ll cost him money.  That’s not as good as the deal I’m offering.”

“Mr. Palerisian wouldn’t need a bail bond.  He has the cash.”  Her face holds an expectancy that tells him she is sending a message she’s not willing to put into words.  Peter gets the message anyway.

“And you don’t want to be responsible for him.  Maybe you also think he should have to go to the hassle of putting up his own money.”

“This is DUI number two, and he’s been well above .18 both times.  Besides which, he’s an asshat whether he’s drunk or not.  Frankly, if it didn’t mean having to deal with my partners’ whining, I’d fire him.  Maybe if I can’t get him ROR’ed, I’ll get lucky and he’ll fire us, instead.”  Then, as if a switch has been flipped, Alyson sits a bit straighter and says mechanically, in a tone almost – but not quite – imitating robotic quoting of a statement that is not her own, “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.  You’re suggesting I’m not advocating for the best deal for my client.  That would be unethical.”

With a wide smile, Peter says, “Ms. Sanders – Alyson – you’re a tough negotiator.  I don’t feel good about half a million dollars’ bail-“

“Don’t push it, Peter,” she tilts her head with a playful scowl.

“As I said, I don’t feel good about two hundred fifty thousand dollars bail…”   He waits for her smile of agreement, then proceeds.  “But you’ve twisted my arm.”

He reaches out his hand.  She stands and shakes it firmly for the third time in under ten minutes.

“I’m sorry I had to be so rough on you.”

“Let me call, see if I can still get us on the arraignment calendar this morning.”

Alyson looks up at Peter from under her long eyelashes, muttering, “Don’t push too hard.  A night in jail might do him good.”

He stops with his phone in his hand, just about to touch the screen.  “It’s usually fairly difficult to get a last-minute addition to the arraignment calendar.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I’m sorry,” he says with an obviously faux chagrin, and puts his phone back into his inside jacket pocket.  “I did everything I could.”

“I appreciate the professional courtesy.”  They stand there, grinning conspiratorially at one another.  “Once he sobers up, I’ll talk to my client and see if he’s open to a plea deal.”

“Who says I’m offering one?”

“Well, I’ve heard you are sort of a hardass.  You might not.  I’ll make sure he knows that.  But, just in case, I’ll see what he’d be willing to accept.”

“I’ll see you at the arraignment tomorrow morning.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Peter can’t concentrate on the scumbags today.  He needs to, and he needs to ride herd on all the Junior ADAs he’s responsible for, but for the life of him he can’t clear his mind of the picture of Alyson Sanders walking away from him down the hallway at the police station.  He wants to find the person who tailored that skirt to fit her bum like that and shake their hand.  Or perhaps punch them in the throat, because that picture is not helping him get shit done today.  He wonders what she’ll wear to the arraignment tomorrow morning, and hopes like hell she won’t be replaced by then.  Peter had no desire to see Randolph Dworkin in a tight, ass-hugging skirt.  

 *****************

The gods smile on Peter Stone and he sees Alyson Sanders sashay into the courthouse wearing another beautiful suit.  He gets one look at the skirt and knows this will be the second day in a row shot to hell. She has an eager young man walking beside her, legs twice as long as hers but still running to keep up with her in her heels, and she is listening attentively to what he has to say.  Peter recognizes him now; he worked for Peter until about six months ago, when he quit to go where the money is.  Alyson’s eyes light up when she sees Peter and the smile she gives him wakes his cock up for the day.  

After another handshake that goes on a beat too long, Alyson asks Peter whether he remembers whatever the kid’s name is.  Peter remembers him, and instantly forgets his name again.  The kid is there to give Alyson a crash course in arraignments, which aren’t rocket science, and she and Peter already have a deal.  Still, Peter admires her preparation.  He imagines she doesn’t like being out of her depth any more than Peter himself does.  

“I’m going to need to get in there in a moment, and I don’t know when they’ll call Palerisian’s case.  So I may not have a chance to talk to you again this morning,” Peter explains to Alyson.  “I also have a crowded day, but we need to talk about what we’re going to do with your client.  Are you, by any chance, available to have dinner with me tonight?”  He hopes he got the inflection and expression just right, like he couldn’t give a shit, even though if she says no and he doesn’t get to peel off that skirt, he might just cry through the entire arraignment docket.

“I can probably do drinks, but dinner would be tough.”

“I see.  You have another engagement.”

“No, I…”  What Aly means is that she can probably keep her hands off of Peter Stone for the time it would take to have a drink, but knows herself to be entirely unequal to the task of behaving appropriately through a whole dinner.  But that’s probably too much information at this point, especially in front of her young associate.  “I meant that I had to reschedule some things to be here today, which means I have some catching up to do.”

Alyson actually has a dinner engagement with a potential new client, which she would be insane to miss.  They’re a major retail chain just beginning to move into the online marketplace about five years after they should have.  There is serious money to be made here, and quickly.  But the dinner is small, the only guests being the owner, the Chairman of the Board, and the CEO, which means she has options.  The weather has been unseasonably warm for fall, and the firm has a lovely boat for exactly this purpose.  She’ll spend several thousand extra dollars this way, but Peter Stone would be worth it if she had to add an extra zero to that.  Maybe two.  She’d decide when she got his shirt off.  In the meantime, she tells herself the first call she makes after the arraignment needs to be to her assistant, to get the dinner moved to later in the week, with the excuse that she thought her guests might like to take advantage of the lovely weather with a dinner cruise around Manhattan on the boat.  Self-important business types eat that shit up.  It’ll be fine.  And she doesn’t give fuck one even if it isn’t. 

“I’ll tell you what, Peter.” She likes the taste of his name on her tongue, and he can see that.  “Let’s plan on drinks, and I’ll see if I can make dinner work.  Let me know when and where.”

Peter nods as though she’s just agreed to do nothing more interesting than rotate the tires on his car. “I’ll see you in there,” he says, turning and entering the courtroom.

Stone doesn’t want to be meeting Alyson Sanders for drinks tonight.  Oh, he does, heaven knows he does, but he also doesn’t.  He’s done with women.  After the hideous demise of his long-term relationship with Angelica, he has stuck to men.  Women are just too …  Well, they’re too everything.  Absolutely not worth the trouble.  He prefers women, if he had to choose, but lucky for him, no one is asking him to.  Men are so much easier – the most they ask is that he buy them dinner first, and even that doesn’t happen much.  Mostly they just want what he wants – a few laughs over drinks, a good fuck, and that’s it. 

Which is why it’s kind of a step backward to have drinks with Alyson Sanders.  Maybe she’ll turn out to be the rare woman who will just have sex with him and then leave him alone – which is very much all he wants from her.  He’s going to run for the nearest hot guy if things start to go any differently with her.  True, he wants her more than he’s wanted anyone in a very long time, but she is still a woman, after all, and therefore almost certain to annoy and frustrate him in the end.  But he’s stuck now, he made the date himself, and his dick has been looking forward to it ever since.  Peter does his dick’s bidding much more often than he wishes he did.

The arraignment is a snooze, as expected, except for the part where Alyson stands a few feet away from him.  Judge Smithson, a woman of a certain age, insists on keeping her courtroom at a balmy sixty degrees in all seasons, and apparently Alyson finds that a bit chilly.  Or at least her nipples do.  Peter finds himself in the unenviable position of standing in front of a full courtroom trying to ignore the turmoil happening in his boxers.  He’s had dreams like this.  They were not good dreams.

He texts Alyson Sanders sometime in the early afternoon.  Actually, he texts Alyson Sanders at precisely one in the afternoon on the dot, because that is the time he has decided will be early enough, but not so early that it looks like he’s eager.  

Peter meets Alyson at Geraldo’s, where meets all his first dates.  It’s small enough so they can hear each other talk, the bartenders know him and will send him an emergency text to get him out of a bad situation if he signals them, and it’s just around the corner from a fairly cheap parking garage for quick getaways.  He’s early so that he can choose where they will sit.  He chooses a small booth with room for only two people, one on each side of the table.  It’s a good strategic first-date choice, for many reasons, not least of which is that he can sit forward and get close to his date, especially if it’s a guy with long legs, or he can sit back and put distance between them. 

When Alyson breezes in, he notes that she waves to one of the bartenders.  He is annoyed at her knowing the bartenders like he does, because he likes to be one up on everyone in all situations.  His annoyance only lasts long enough for Alyson to slide into the booth across from him and announce that he’s chosen the bar well.  Her firm has an account here, and since she and Peter are working on Palerisian’s criminal case together, drinks are on Palerisian tonight.  He can’t help liking that Alyson Sanders has a bit of an edge to her.  And he is struck anew by how beautiful she is.  It’s not a conventional, fashion-model sort of beauty, exactly, although she certainly has that.  What gets to Peter is a certain swagger and sass she has that are evident even when she is standing still, and a look in her eye as though she’s up for anything.  Sassy women who are up for anything are Peter’s kryptonite, and he knows it.

“I’m a little surprised you’re so willing to piss off an important client,” he notes. 

“I’ve been really fortunate,” she says sincerely.  “I had some success early on, which allowed me to start my own firm fairly young, and we’ve worked really hard.  These days, we’re blessed with a number of important clients and it lets me worry less about losing one.  Not my partners, however, who act like we’re all going to be homeless anytime we lose a motion.  It’s a good balance, actually.  They keep my baser instincts in line, and I keep them from getting trampled by bully clients.”

“Sounds like a good partnership,” he says.  She’s being modest.  He’s done his research.  Her firm bills eight figures annually, and it’s primarily because Alyson Sanders is a giant-killer.  She’s won a number of huge cases, including several against the feds.  She personally does less litigation now that she heads a team of over forty corporate and tax lawyers.  She bills four figures an hour and still her firm has clients begging her to take them on. She’s also been very wise in her choice of partners, both of whom are as gifted as she is.

“It’s a very good partnership, as much as we bitch about each other.”

The waitress comes over with a cocktail for Alyson and asks whether Peter is ready for another.  He says no.  Drinking less than the other person is another way he likes to keep the upper hand. 

“Your appetizers will be out very shortly,” the waitress says, deferential to Peter, but even more so to Alyson. 

Alyson gives Peter a smile that he is unable to avoid returning.  “Calamari, oysters on the half-shell, fried zucchini, and some more stuff I can’t remember.  The appetizers here are great, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Now Peter’s even more conflicted.  On top of being seriously attractive, this woman is also an eater.  Peter likes a woman with an appetite.  Shit.  This new development is good from his dick’s point of view (also his stomach’s – he’s hungry), but from a “not dating women anymore” perspective, it’s kind of a problem.  He pushes the thought aside.  It’s very, very early.  She’ll say or do something to cool the attraction anytime now. 

Alyson wonders whether they oysters were a bit much.  They come with the platter she ordered, and it’s the one she always orders, but he doesn’t know that.  And damn it, she wants to make a good impression.  Not nearly as much as she wants to tear his clothes off and see if the raunchy fantasies that have plagued her all day match the reality, but still, she was very impressed by him in court and she’s done a little research.  Peter Stone is one hell of a prosecutor.  Well on his way to becoming District Attorney someday. Not that she’s particularly impressed by titles, but she is very impressed by talent.  And he has it.

He can see that she is thinking about him, and if the glow under her skin is any indication, her thoughts are good ones.  In no time, Peter is back to the level of arousal he was at this morning, only now there’s alcohol and opportunities.  He leans forward to clink glasses with her.  “To new acquaintances.”

Alyson toasts with him and takes a drink.  When she’s done, she sits forward and takes off her suit jacket.  It’s a fitted, tweedy suit with leather accents that is lovely, but she’s suddenly feeling warm.  She seems to recall feeling a bit of a hot flash this morning when she saw Peter Stone, too, before entering the arctic chill of the courtroom.  He smiles, mutters something about removing jackets being a good idea, then removes his, as well.  There’s a hook for their jackets on the outside of their booth and Peter graciously hangs Alyson’s jacket up for her, along with his own.  This gives her the opportunity to check out his body under the shirt, and suddenly she realizes removing their jackets is not going to be anywhere near enough.  Her libido ratchets up several notches and she begins to think she doesn’t have the patience to be social.  She wonders what he would do if she just straight-up propositioned him.  She empties her glass at the same time he does. 

A few minutes and a bit of superficial conversation later, the appetizers arrive and they order their second drinks.  Peter’s leg makes contact with Alyson’s.  He doesn’t move it.  She grins and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of what he’s just said, or because their legs are touching.  The way she eats oysters borders on obscene.  He’s mesmerized.  He thinks about trying to do it, but is certain he’ll end up with a red face and a dry-cleaning bill.  She’s interested in him.  She leans in and asks questions about what he’s telling her.  She also laughs at his jokes, which always seems to inspire him.  Even he thinks he’s being fairly witty.  This is good.  He’s definitely going to invite her back to his place and do all the things he’s been imagining, and he has no doubt she will accept, especially since there is some fairly intimate leg-pressing going on now.  He’s hard, and he’s not alone; her blouse is giving him his second glimpse of her nipples today and holy crap he wants to rip that thin fabric off and just get to it.   By the time the appetizers are worked over and their drinks about gone, Peter is feeling a very nice glow that is part bourbon, part lust.  It’s a good combination, and it affects the risk/benefit calculations going on in his head about how to approach making a pass.

Alyson has imbibed two cocktails, and she drank them a little more quickly than she normally would, because Peter’s hazel green eyes and that little lisp are really getting to her. Since she met him about thirty-six hours ago, she’s been horny for him - sometimes more, sometimes less, but never not – and at this moment, she hits the limit of her ability to resist him.  She makes a motion to the waitress across the bar and holds her glass out to Peter.  There is one swallow left in the bottom.  His is about the same. 

“What are we drinking to?”  He asks, very successfully trying to smolder.

“Elevators.”

“Really.  Why elevators?”

“Because my apartment is at the top of this building, which means all that’s standing between us and my bed is an elevator.”  Her grin is almost as lascivious as the way she eats oysters. 

Peter clinks her glass and turns up the smolder.  “To elevators, then.  Sláinte.” 

Shit.  He likes women who make the first move, too.  Especially when they’re that straightforward about it. He wonders how obvious it will be when he carries his jacket in front of his crotch.  Maybe she will be lousy in bed.  Not that he wants her to be lousy in bed, he just needs her to give him something to work with so that he can keep his usual distance.  So far, she’s not been cooperating.  The waitress brings a bill, Alyson signs it, and they scoot out from the booth.  Peter would love to hold Alyson’s jacket for her to put it on, but he fears that, if he does, he’s going to make the 6 O’clock news.  Or at least YouTube.  Alyson notices what he’s hiding and she slides a hand down his chest, winking. 

“Me, too,” she whispers.  She is shaking.  Shaking, she’s so hot for him.

Peter thinks he might have to pull the emergency button on the elevator.  He knows he could come from a stray breeze right now, so he’s sure he can get off and think of a good story before the fire department arrives to rescue them.  Besides, any male firefighters are going to take one look at Alyson and be completely on his side. 

No such luck.  Peter hadn’t thought about it, all he cared about was the bar, but this is a primarily residential building.  So he and Alyson are sharing the elevator with an elderly Chinese woman with approximately seventeen shopping bags, along with two teenagers who are theoretically speaking English, although Peter has no earthly idea what they’re saying.  There is also a young woman pushing a basset hound in a stroller.  The basset hound needs a bath.  It helps Peter regain a touch of his composure as they ride up.  

Alyson’s apartment is one of three on the top floor.  Peter’s a little humbled by the elegance and size of the space.  The view is impressive, even for a life-long New Yorker like Peter.    Peter has a great job, but working for the County of New York, he’s never going to make this kind of money no matter how high he rises.  She gives him a few moments to look around, apparently used to this. When he turns from the wall of windows, she’s just sitting on the arm of a couch, waiting.  She smiles at him.  

“I know you get this all the time, but you are fucking gorgeous,” she says.  While he’s been admiring her view, she’s been admiring his.

It’s the first F-bomb she’s dropped, and he’s delighted.  “So here’s my dilemma,” he says, walking toward her in what he hopes is a measured way rather than running to her like the basset hound on the elevator, which is what he’s doing in his mind.  “If I tell you how beautiful I think you are, it’s going to sound like I’m just returning the compliment.”

Her smile brightens as she gives just the hint of a giggle.  “Well, you’ve had a bit of luck there,” she says, palming his crotch as he reaches her and she stands to meet him.  “I believe this is what we in the law call ‘evidence’.”

Their first kiss is like most first kisses: awkward, not quite right, with imperfect aim and a little bit of nose mashing.  But they’re experienced and they get better fast.  Alyson is quickly all hands.  Peter’s trying to kiss with some finesse, and she seems to really like what he’s doing judging by her breathing, but she’s touching and stroking and squeezing him everywhere at once.  Something about that makes Peter feel very good.  Well, sure, it feels good, but it also feeds his ego and lets him know he hasn’t been imagining the appraising looks she’s been giving him.  

He tastes like bourbon, with a slight hint of the appetizers they’d shared.  He’s delicious, but that’s no surprise.  The surprise is just how thoroughly he’s kissing her.  Firm, in control, the exact right amount of wetness, so far just the slightest tease of tongue…  Oh, this guy can kiss.

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, trying to be careful but also trying to slow himself down.  It’s not easy.  He’s had a raging hard on for the last half hour, and she’s starting to make noises. Peter is aroused by the sounds his lovers make, letting him know they’re enjoying what he’s doing.  Alyson pulls her arms quickly out of the jacket and starts on his tie.  She loosens the knot only enough to slide it over his head, then tosses it onto the couch behind her.  Their kisses get messy as she divides her attention between his mouth and his buttons, and when she thinks she has enough buttons undone, she just pushes his shirt up his chest.  

“Holy shit,” she breathes, getting her first look at his bare torso. The beauty she expected is nothing to the reality.  This man is a work of art.  She’s not looking for love at this point, but damn, if she was, this chest would be a good place to start.  She regrets skipping Pilates on Tuesday.  Not that one class with Gunther would make her look like this; pretty much anyone is going to look soft and flabby next to this man.  She cannot wait to see his ass.

She gives a frustrated grunt as she realizes she has forgotten the buttons on his sleeves, but together they fumble through that and he is finally, blessedly, shirtless.  Kissing is forgotten for the moment.  The look in her eyes has Peter pulling at her blouse now, but she’s not helping.  She’s not resisting by any stretch, but she’s very busy feasting her eyes on the dirty dream of a man undressing her in her living room, and she’s preoccupied.  

He gets her blouse off somehow, a little concerned that a couple of buttons may have been lost in the process, but she doesn’t seem to care so he certainly doesn’t.  Besides, she’s begun to work on his belt and he doesn’t want to distract her.  He strokes her shoulders and arms and closes his eyes while she starts running her face all over his chest.  It couldn’t really be called kissing, because although there’s a lot of kissing involved, there’s also a lot of tasting and smelling and nuzzling.  And appreciative noises.  

Belt undone, Alyson takes a little longer to undo Peter’s slacks, but only because she’s distracted by his abs.  She is going to run her tongue along them, but that will have to wait until after she gets him inside her because she is on fire and she could come just from looking at him.  She hopes he doesn’t mind the artlessness with which she yanks his pants, socks, and shoes off.  

Holy flying balls of shit his cock is gorgeous.  Cocks are not, as a rule, particularly aesthetically pleasing appendages, but Alyson has just discovered that Peter Stone’s penis is as beautiful as the rest of his body.  It’s perfect. It fits him; large and strong and hard and stunningly attractive.  She’s mesmerized.  Just as a few moments ago, she was distracted by his beautiful chest, and then his abs, now it’s his penis.  She runs her hands along its length, awed, trying to find words to describe how well-shaped it is, with the exact right amount of veining, and a hot rosy pink color rather than the angry red some guys are, that she tries to ignore when she sees it.  Can you compliment a man on his lovely penis?  

She doesn’t get the chance, because suddenly he’s all over her skirt and it’s off before she really has time to drag her mind back from his cock. He makes the most wonderful noise – a gasp with a moan behind it – when he sees the lingerie and thigh-high stockings she purposely chose this morning in hopes he’d see them tonight.  He doesn’t so much lay her down on the couch as throw her there.  Fine by her. She would’ve jumped if he’d asked her to.  She keeps her heels on.

He kneels next to the couch and suddenly, it’s him who is all hands and mouth, gliding his hands up her thighs and mouthing her breasts through the soft, satiny and barely functional bra designed for pretty much exactly that. She’s lost the ability to monitor or control the sounds she’s making.  His huge hands have her entire attention, or at least the part that isn’t laser focused on his soft biting at her nipples through the slippery cups of her bra.  

Peter kisses his way to the top of Alyson’s breasts so that he can flick his tongue under the cups.  He wants to hear the noise she’ll make, and he isn’t disappointed.  He hopes the hot drops rubbing from his cock onto her couch won’t be a problem – the couch is white.  But he has much more important concerns at the moment, like whether to slide his fingers underneath the satin of her barely pink panties, or tease her through them first.  He decides that the latter is the way to go, and at last touches her where he’s wanted to since the second he saw her the previous morning.  The panties are soaked.  Drenched.  He can feel moistness on the inside of her thighs, even.  Oh, this is good.  Very, very good.  

As soon as he touches her through the thin, wet fabric, she moans and begins to lift into his touch.  She moves against his fingers, one hand splayed in his hair as he licks her nipples under her bra, and the other firmly grasping his ass.  She knows she’s being selfish, but she’s beyond caring about anything but the way he is making her feel.  It’s starting to drive her crazy that he won’t take her lingerie off.  She wants him to touch her everywhere.  Of course, he knows that and he’s doing this on purpose, the bastard.  She tries to make a mental note to do it back to him, but her entire blood supply is shunted far away from her brain.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he says, looking into her eyes, pupils huge and lids heavy.  “I’ll decide when to make you come.”  He’s smiling evilly, and it is an absolutely outstanding look on him.

She can only moan and nod vaguely.  He rewards her by slipping a finger under her panties and beginning to stroke the wet folds there.  

“Oh, Peter, that feels so good, you’re so…”  She slides her hand around from his buttock to grasp his pretty cock. “I want you…”

“Tell me.”

“I want you to tear my panties off and fuck me.  Now.”

He smiles and mercifully slides a finger inside her.  She arches her back and cries out, immediately beginning to rock into it.  He leans over and begins to kiss her again, slowly and deeply, with a great deal of tongue, while he slides his finger in and out of her, enjoying her wanton, increasingly desperate response.  

“More,” she begs.

She’s surprised – in a very good way – when he grants her request and slides another finger inside her and softly touches her clit with his thumb, coating her with her own moisture and rubbing lightly.  She still has his cock in her hand, but her stroking is haphazard because she has too many sensations to focus on.  

“Peter!”  She cries. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t come,” he murmurs.  

“I don’t–  I can’t-“

He continues to use his fingers, allowing her to fuck herself on them and increasing his thrust slightly, but stops rubbing her clit with his thumb. Soon, his fingers slow.

“No…”_

“Do you want me to fuck you?”  He asks with just the hint of a smirk.

“Yes!  Oh, yes, I want you.”  Her breathlessness makes it hard to speak.

“Then sit up.”

She does.  He somehow manages to be aggressive and gentle at the same time as he unclasps and pulls her pretty bra from her.  He sits next to her on the couch, then pulls her up so that she is standing before him. She’s fairly dizzy with lust, and he keeps an eye on her as he pulls her panties quickly down and off, leaving her thigh-high stockings where they are.  He reaches behind her to the floor where his pants are, and fumbles his wallet out of a pocket.

She stands naked but for her heels and the stockings while he pulls a condom from his wallet.  She takes it from him and knees down between his knees, tearing the packet with her teeth. There is a lot of eye contact. There is a lot of smiling.  She leans in and takes him in her mouth for a moment, holding the condom between her fingers.  She nearly loses her concentration when she begins to taste and feel that beautiful penis between her lips, but she is too desperate for release, and so is he.  

“Put it on,” he groans between gritted teeth.  She does, stroking him and kissing the insides of his thighs.

He immediately pulls her up, guiding her onto his lap until she is straddling him, on her knees.  With his hands on her hips, both of them watching what she is doing, she takes his cock into her hand and guides him to her entrance, then pushes roughly down on him. Both of them cry out with pleasure, Peter’s cry a series of curse words Alyson hasn’t heard in that particular order before.  

Her arms naturally encircle his neck and shoulders, and she begins to kiss him as though she’s missed him.  His lips, the way he moves his mouth on hers, could easily become… Well, this is about sex.  She refocuses, which isn’t hard because she is very, very close.

“Peter, you’re going to make me come…”

“Now, Aly.  Come now.” He puts a hand on her backside and rolls his hips into her.  On her knees, she can move her pelvis against him, and his pretty cock is about as much as she can take, so within the next several thrusts, she begins to feel the inevitable wave of pleasure start to roll through her, from somewhere deep inside, gaining momentum as it makes its way toward the surface.  She pulls away from his lips and throws her head back, her groans almost grunts as she explodes, grinding against him and rolling her hips.  

He watches her face, her flushed chest, her breasts bouncing lightly with her movements.  This is a woman who knows how to ride an orgasm.  And she looks like a fucking goddess doing it.  So good, in fact, that he is already coming before he really realizes it. Soon he is lost to himself, jutting his hips into her and shouting.  

It takes a very long time to come down for both of them.  They’re gasping for breath.  She needs to get off of him so he can remove the condom, but damn she doesn’t want to.  Eventually, however, she resigns herself and lifts herself off of his lap.  She stretches and arches her back while he goes into the powder room.

Alyson looks around.  There are clothes in a wide semicircle around the couch.  It’s kind of fabulous, actually, like a modern art piece.  Peter catches his face in the mirror of the powder room.  He looks fucked out.  He is fucked out.

But Alyson is not done with Peter Stone.  Oh, hell, no.  When he saunters back into the room – he usually struts, and he does it very, very well, but apparently post-coitally, he saunters – she takes his hand and leads him into her bedroom.  He makes no comment or protest as she yanks the covers down and climbs in, holding her arms out to him.

Post-sex cuddling with Peter Stone could cure cancer, bring about world peace and end famine.  Alyson is sure of it.  Nothing could possibly be wrong in life when this gloriously handsome male sprawled naked in your bed and put his powerful, sturdy arms around you.  Actually, she realizes, this is not post-sex cuddling, but intra-sex cuddling, because Alyson plans to have Peter at least twice more before she lets him out of her apartment.  It’s time to do that ab licking she’d planned earlier, so Alyson begins lazily stroking Peter’s chest.

Peter is fairly hormone-muddled at the moment, but he realizes that this is an extraordinarily comfortable bed.  He also realizes that Alyson has not turned out to be lousy in bed – or on the couch, as the case may be – so he is going to have to find something else to dislike about her.  But right now, she is worshiping his body, which he kind of can’t dislike, so he’ll have to think about that tomorrow.  Or the next day.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #peter stone #philip winchester #Smutty McSmutface

[jessethorn]

Some Interviewing Thoughts

My friend is working on a book about how to podcast. He sent me these questions about interviewing and since who knows how much of my answers will actually end up on the pages of said book (which I will plug when it is time, I bet it will be great), I figured I’d just post them here, in case they’re useful to anyone. 

If you are not familiar with me or my work, I am the host of the NPR interview show Bullseye with Jesse Thorn (I am the Jesse Thorn of it). I also did a podcast called The Turnaround where I interviewed interviewers about interviewing.

Can you tell us something about your process?

I'm usually at least somewhat familiar with the guest's work - that's why we've booked them. Not always, but usually. So I have that advantage going in to the prep process.

I try to take a full day to prepare. If there's a book, I usually read it over the preceding week or so. If there's a movie or a show, I see it when I can. The rest I cram in before the interview. I don't have Lexis-Nexus (maybe I should?) but I go on Google News and search for as many news pieces as I can about the guest. I prefer big profiles and long interviews. I'll start with whatever's in the Guardian or the Times or the New Yorker, or online sources with deep archives like the AV Club. And I read as much as I can. Usually a few dozen things. Depends on the notoriety of the guest. I'll also read a bit about the work - film or book reviews, just to get other people's perspectives on it, see if there's stuff I haven't thought of. And usually at the beginning and end I'll read... wait for it... Wikipedia. Because it's usually better than people's bios, and it helps me remember the rough narrative of their life and work. I'll also try to listen to or watch at least one interview - maybe when I'm driving in to the studio. That just gives me a feeling of what it's like to talk to them, so I'm not surprised.

While I'm prepping, I keep a document open on my computer in a writing app called Q10 that saves a text file automatically to a folder that's synced across my devices. If a thought I want to make sure to ask about occurs to me while I'm reading, I drop it in there. Not usually in question form, mostly just a phrase, like "loves to play mandolin but isn't good at it" or something. Generally I'm looking to move past what other people have asked. When I read a response that my guest-to-be has to someone else's question, I'm thinking, "what does that response make me curious about?" I can figure out how to do the exposition to get there. And I'm often thinking in a way improvisers call A-to-C. There is a piece of information, I think "what does this make me think of," then I think "what does *that* make me think of?" It helps avoid obviousness. It's important to know how other people ask someone something, so you can ask something different or at least ask in a different way. Because generally you don't want someone's patter, you want a fresh, in-the-moment thought or reaction.

While I'm doing this, if I find media I want to incorporate or ask about, I send it to my producer, who's pulling clips. They'll give me a list of clips, including the ones I specifically wanted, before the interview, and I'll give that a look-over so I can remember roughly what I've got.

In the end, I have maybe a list of six or eight things I want to try and remember to ask about, a list of six or eight clips, and a lot of information in my head about who the person is. Once in a while, I'll have a question written, but generally only because it's something sensitive and I want to say it exactly correctly. Like a question about a crime someone was accused of or a time someone's colleague was harassed or a time someone said something particularly shitty. Those I don't want to be phrasing on the fly. Generally, though, it's just a few phrases so I don't forget to ask about a funny thing I thought of. I just interviewed the soprano Renee Fleming, and the list had "singer breaking wine glass: is that real" on it.

In general, I'm trying to think about a general outline for the interview - like "we'll talk a bit about the new thing first, then circle back to childhood, then through the biography" or whatever. And I'm trying to be curious and think about why they make the choices they do and what I find myself wondering about. Besides that, I want to know enough about the person I'm talking to that I can just focus on conversing with them. 

 What things do you think are most important or key to your ability as an interviewer?

I like and respect the people I interview. If they seem like an asshole, I don't invite them on my show. They're generally pretty brilliant, or they wouldn't be able to make the great art they make. So my job is to just meet them where they are and talk to them like a person. I probably show a bit more of myself than most folks at NPR do, who are more news-oriented or reporter-oriented, but my interest in the person sitting across from me is sincere. If I share something of myself, it's because I think it might be meaningful to them and help them understand that we are both people, and we're having a chat.

I also don't try to hide my interest behind posturing faux-impartiality. They're there at my invitation, I'd be a real heel if I'd invited them but wasn't interested in what they were saying. I listen when they talk, and react to what they say. I don't try to control the conversation except to the extent I need to do so to make a radio show. I goof around in goofy parts and respond in a humane way in emotional parts. And in general, I know that it can't go that wrong, so I don't really give a fuck. You only get one ticket, might as well enjoy the ride, as Devin the Dude raps. 

 What do you do to put people at ease or when you sense that they're' holding back? Is there a time you remember when that happened? 

I try to put them at ease when I meet them, before I even sit down at the mic. Or before we start if they're in another studio. That really is just basic human stuff. I come out of my office, go over to them, say hi, I'm Jesse. Shake their hand, smile. Let them know we're gonna talk for an hour or so, it'll just be talking, we'll make them sound great. For most guests if there's something that might be sensitive, I'll let them know it isn't live and if there's something personal they don't want to talk about, to just let me know. (That never actually happens.) Maybe I ask them something about their outfit or something I wondered that wasn't really for the air, like about a sports team I heard they like or something. Just talk to them like a nice person would. 

If the interview is rolling and they're holding back, I maybe ask them something friendly and surprising, something that makes me look dumb, maybe something silly. If they're really polished but not revealing themselves, I might ask them a question that requires a heartfelt answer - like I dunno... "are you afraid of death?" Mostly though I just know that I have some time and that if I talk to them in a nice human way they'll usually come around to responding in kind. 

 What do you keep top of mind when interviewing?

The person sitting in front of me. The actual conversation happening at that actual moment. 

 Could you describe how you go about preparing for an interview, and approx how long that process takes?

I went through it pretty well above, but as far as time goes - outside of consuming the media the person is there to talk about, their book or film or whatever, I'd say I try to give it at least six straight hours. And I'm very fast at it, since I've been doing it now for twenty years. Before it was maybe eight or twelve. But again: that's in the context of most of my guests already being very familiar to me.  

Was there a time when something totally unexpected happened during an interview? What did you do in response? How did things turn out?

I once played a clip for Michael K. Williams of a dance track from the 80s, this song where he'd appeared in the video. It was his big break. And I thought maybe he'd be happy to hear it, kind of amused, but he started crying. And he was in a studio in New York, I couldn't really tell if he was sad or hurt or happy or whatever. But I just let him do his thing. Because I didn't need to control the moment. I have him some time, and he shared some incredible memories. 

 Are there some people you look up to as interviewers? What did you learn from them?

I think Ira Glass is always very deeply interested in other people's feelings. It is absolutely sincere, and he just asks about them. On more than one occasion, I have had him ask me about my feelings when I was interviewing him. He obviously doesn't do the same kind of interviewing I do - he is really looking for a few illustrative or moving highlights - but the way he does that is very inspirational to me.

Terry Gross is extraordinarily modest. She is a brilliant genius, but she is always glad to highlight the guest and what is great or interesting about them. She also always asks for examples, always brings the conversation to specifics and stories when it could be vague.

I did a series called The Turnaround, where I interviewed interviewers about interviewing, and talked to all kinds of famous interviewers, from a variety of media. 

Susan Orlean, who writes for the New Yorker, can find a story anywhere. She just shows up and is extraordinarily curious and recognizes when something is interesting and pulls the thread. That's another improv technique - a scene is built on the first distinctive element. You spot it and you grow it. 

Larry King is always hyper-present. He did years and years of long live radio shifts. He absolutely trusts his curiosity. He told me he once asked a pilot if, when the plane took off, he knew it was going to land. He is unafraid of looking like a fool as long as he is following his curiosity.

Reggie Osse, Combat Jack, he knew everything about the subject he was interviewing people about. Everything. So he always had a little anecdote or a little insight that opened things up. His show was loooooong, but that was because he was always relating to something someone said about something in a club in 1998, and that led to this, and all of a sudden you're armpit-deep in amazing stories.

Jerry Springer really respects everyone he talks to, and cares about them and their story. Including folks who other people might laugh at or scorn or pity. He just goes in and tries to give them a chance to be heard.

Elvis Mitchell is a real critic, and he has more expertise in entertainment media than anyone I've ever met. I mean he knows more about his seventh-greatest area of expertise than I do about my first. He's really masterful at talking to artists about the actual content of their work. Themes and ideas. In a clear and concrete way. So many people substitute anecdote for insight, and I am very grateful for his insight. 

Marc Maron is like a genius puppy. He just pokes and prods and guesses, and he's so smart and is crackling with such energy that he finds stuff because people step up to meet him. He also is so raw, emotionally, that people just try to take care of him by sharing themselves.

Audie Cornish is astonishingly clear-eyed. She knows what she needs to know, she knows the context, she goes and gets it.

Howard Stern will just ask about anything. And you know he will talk about anything. So you feel obliged to tell him. And he always asks about the biggest and most important stuff. Like how did you lose your virginity or do you believe in God or whatever. He just does it and what are you going to do, not answer?

That's only a few, I could list a million more. I would say that something they share is that they are all actually curious. It is not a performance of curiosity; they want to know about others.

Are there any stories you could share of times when you learned some valuable lessons about interviewing? Do's and don'ts? 

I once interviewed Betty Davis, who is a legendary (and legendarily reclusive) funk musician. She was on the phone from Pittsburgh, patched through by her label since she didn't want anyone to have her phone number. And she was very polite, but very fragile-sounding. She hadn't done press in a few decades, and hadn't even picked up her ASCAP checks until a fan tracked her down and hand-delivered them. She gave me a lot of one sentence answers to my questions. It was really, really hard, but I remember thinking of something I'd read in Jessica Abel and Ira Glass' This American Life comic, which is that if you don't say anything, people will fill the space. So when she finished her sentences, I just waited. For a long time, sometimes. Like five or ten seconds, which is FOREVER. And every time, she added to her initial remarks. And that saved the interview. 

Another time I went to a fancy hotel in west Los Angeles to interview Bill Withers. He's done some press since then, but at the time he hadn't really done any in like fifteen years. He's older and incredibly smart and a little grumpy. And when I sat down, he kind of started giving me the business. Because whatever - I was a young white guy there being presumptuous enough to bother him, a guy who really had nothing to gain from the interview. And I remember at some point he was giving me a hard time and I kind of poked back at him, and he laughed, and after that it was one of the best interviews I'd ever done. I think just because he was like, "oh, this is a person, too. He's not an idiot, he's here because he cares, and maybe he's even interesting to talk to."  

What do you know now that you wish you'd known when you were starting out?

That it's going to be fine. I think I learned that from doing the Turnaround. Because I wasn't going to make money from it, I just figured I'd let myself off the hook preparation-wise and emotionally and so forth. Just let it go. And it was some of my best work. Because I trusted it would be fine, followed my actual curiosity, and talked to everyone like a person. Once my therapist asked me why I was anxious about interviews, and I told him I didn't want to mess it up and look foolish. And he said, "Does that happen?" And I was like... "No. I guess not." And he's like, "So, why be anxious?" And I was like, "CHECKMATE DOCTOR CARR."  

If there were one thing you'd like someone who's just starting out to know about interviewing, what would it be?

Be curious. Ask open-ended questions. Remember that whoever you're interviewing, whether it's Buzz Aldrin or Michelle Obama or Little Richard is a person just like you are a person. And enjoy yourself!  

[lostgirlrewatch]

1x08 - Vexed

Original Air Date: November 7, 2010

Written by: Michelle Lovretta

Directed by: John Fawcett

Okay, so. Vexed.

This is the original pilot. I don’t think they necessarily presented it as the first episode chronologically—more like, this is what you can expect from our show. Showcase picked it up and it went to series. Vexed became episode 1x08. You can find more info about it in this interview with Michelle Lovretta and Jay Firestone.

Anyway, this episode was shot earlier than the rest, and you can tell. Makeup and styling is different, and they hadn’t quite settled on the tone they eventually went with. As such, this episode is a bit grittier than normal. I find it interesting both for its different tone and for the fact that many of the decisions they made for the episode were made in the interest of selling the concept to Showcase.

This fucking article is great and is a much better review of this episode and why it’s so god damn good than my shit below. It also provides an extremely detailed look into...exactly what I just described above. All of the behind-the-scenes production stuff. Check it out.

The premise: Bo finds a lead on someone who might know about her mother--a falsely accused death row inmate named Lou Ann. Bo vows to prove her innocence in exchange for answers, but her quest leads her into contact with a vicious Dark Fae named Vex.

I do wonder if they wrote this episode without really knowing where it was going to fit into the first season, assuming they had an outline. It works as a standalone and in some ways it feels a little disjointed from what came before in episode 1x07, right from the beginning. Dyson coming right out and saying something so blunt as, “She’s never gonna love you,” feels a bit off to me. But then again, all the characters in this episode are a bit “off,” which is understandable. This episode is like…the prototype. The beta.

“No offense to my own kind, but humans are a little pedestrian now.” *awkwardly laughs* Right... “your kind”…haha you’re enslaved. Lauren are you okay.

“Once you go Fae you never go back, huh?”

“So I hear.”

Me:

Bo feels a little bit more aggressive to me in this episode, like when Siegfried mentions her mother and she wigs out. It’s her normal desperation plus a bit of added homicidal urges. She’s a slightly grittier Bo.

As we can observe from the opening sex scene between Bo and Dyson, this episode is a bit more sexually explicit than we’re used to. This, I am not super a fan of on a personal level. However, the episode is also more violent than usual and incorporates horror elements. This, I am super a fan of because that’s kind of my shit, and it’s something I wish they would have leaned a little bit more into in the rest of the series.

There is nothing I don’t love about this scene. The creepy opera music that sets the stage, the gourmet meal prep (those gourmet meals always end in murder).

(Am I the only one who loves this random little detail they plopped into the background?)

Vex’s entrance—not overly dramatic, just, boop, there he is. 

The tense build-up as we’re drawn to the knife, not sure where it’s gonna go—

--oh, oop, there it goes. 

We know what’s going to happen now, but we build up to it, agonizingly, anyway. Surely we’re not actually going to sit here and watch as he shoves his hand into the disposal and then keep watching as he turns it on and it grinds his hand up. Oh, but we are.

Some scenes have a way of sticking with ya.

So I guess even the Lost Girl universe isn’t all camp and games. People are still people. Especially when they’re ancient as fuck and have all that time to stew in the cesspool of their fucked up emotional and psychological issues. So divorced are they from the concept of mortality, growing up and growing old, that their maturity level laps itself and becomes immaturity—they tend to to behave like children. 

Not all Dark Fae are curmudgeonly, innocuous old grandpas who own restaurants or absolute Queens like the Morrigan. Some of them are like Vex. And just like, fuckin murder people—and each other. Vex’s world is different than Bo’s world. Vex lives in a world where violence is mundane. Empathy is nonexistent and pointless anyhow. Sometimes I wonder if immortal characters are drawn to violence and death because it’s as close as they can get to experiencing a sort of vicarious mortality.

I love Vex’s character throughout the series—up to a certain point—but I love him best in this, his original episode. In later episodes, Vex is portrayed as a sort of morally ambiguous anti-hero, or anti-villain, whichever you prefer. I have mixed feelings on how well the transition from villain to anti-hero is handled. The farther along you get in the series, the more he becomes reduced to a shell of his former self, purely comic relief, and just…sucks.

But in 1x08, Vex is a villain. Straight up. The things that he does are horrifying and the show does not bother trying to get you to empathize with him. And to be clear, this does not mean that he is not a multi-dimensional character, that he isn’t worthy of empathy, or that he is pure evil. What it does mean is the show does something I wish more shows would do. It creates a genuinely threatening and reprehensible villain that is both worthy of your analysis, even your stanning (I stan), and yet whose actions are still inexcusable.

In that interest, let’s talk about him. At this point, his most defining characteristic, the simplest way we can begin to understand his motives, is that he utterly lacks empathy. Vex is the kind of person who would puppeteer a woman and force her to drown her own children. 

He is ordered to kill this woman’s family as punishment for betraying the Dark Fae’s rules. And in this episode, Vex is shown to be someone who rigidly follows the Dark Fae’s orders without question, and without any particular investment in them either. But he doesn’t just kill the kids—he uses his powers to force the mother to do it. To drown them. For no real reason other than his own amusement. That’s another level of sadistic. For a less intense example, in his introduction scene, he gruesomely tortures Siegfried before killing him. Just for funsies. (Well, okay, and to get information.) Vex lacks empathy, clearly, and may scan as a sociopath, but he’s not a stoic one. He gets enjoyment out of tormenting his victims.

Is this the kind of guy the writers are going to try to later convince us is a harmless comic relief mascot? Surely n—

Yes. Yes he is.

I am not at all opposed to the idea of Vex slowly becoming a morally ambiguous anti-villain, even a member of the gang. In fact, I think that premise is interesting as hell. But what I feel like happens later is that the show kind of forgets that Vex did all this horrible shit in the past. Kinda brushes it under the rug. Not only does this make it a lot harder for me to get behind him becoming one of the gang, it also does the character himself a great disservice. I’ll probably get into this more once Vex starts showing up more frequently, and why I feel the writers mishandle him.

To be clear, in spite of how sadistic he is, Vex is not a malicious person. He doesn’t have any enmity for the people he’s ordered to kill. He’s not angry, not hateful, not spiteful. He just doesn’t really care. He’s almost a kind of nihilist. None of it really matters. Somebody who thinks like that would have a fairly breezy time killing people.

Because I like when in-universe politics make things complicated, I like that the in-universe politics of the Light and Dark Fae makes things complicated. Bo wants to free Lou Ann, and she wants the Light Fae’s help, but they can’t help her because it would mean basically declaring war on the Dark Fae. MAJOR no-no. Likewise, they can’t go after Vex because all of his actions are sanctioned by the Dark Fae’s government. Bo’s unalignment gives her freedom, but it’s not without its downsides. She has no influence and no resources when things get too big for her to handle.

“Smells like fried bitch.” An icon. If I remember correctly from one of the behind-the-scenes features, they brainstormed and tested out a bunch of different one-liners to use for this moment, until Ksenia Solo ad-libbed this.

Lol. Kenzi is just so done with Bo and Dyson’s drama.

Lou Ann, the Fae woman who is on death row for killing her kids, obviously strikes a nerve with Bo. 

It’s kinda weird, because when we first meet her, Bo’s main motivation is that she wants to be able to live her life without being forced to kill others and stay on the run to do so. Those problems kinda get solved in the first episode. 

Since then, her motivation has been to live her life without these big mysterious Fae governments telling her what to do. In the first episode, Bo, like Lou Ann, says that she chooses humans. Bo was raised human and wants a normal human life, or as normal as she can get. At the same time, most of the other characters on the show, including her friends, spend a lot of time trying to convince her to embrace her Fae identity and a Fae lifestyle, because it’s “who she is” and she has no choice but to embrace that. “Choice” is a keyword that gets thrown around a lot in this show. But what is the show really trying to say about it? There’s some kind of nature vs. nurture conflict going on here, and I don’t feel like either Bo or the show itself has really decided on which side of the line they fall. On another note, this show has huge Fuck the System vibes. Which I appreciate. We stan an icon who chooses to reject a static, repressive, harmful system even at great personal cost.

A few episodes ago, Bo and Lauren went on a mission together and cemented their bond of trust. In this scene, Lauren breaks that trust. 

She sleeps with Bo to distract her from going after Vex, under the pretense that it is simply the culmination of them both being attracted to one another. The next morning, it doesn’t take long for Bo to figure this out. She is appropriately hurt. She has feelings for Lauren, there was an intimacy there, and she trusted her in a way that she doesn’t normally trust other people, because of her past. Lauren took advantage of her feelings and used her. Whether Lauren wanted to do it or not, whether she had any way of refusing, isn’t relevant in this moment; it was cruel regardless.

But what does Lauren say?

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Oop. There it is. There’s the Lauren I remember.

She hasn’t done anything wrong, y’all. Well, I’ll be damned. Lauren never did anything wrong ever in her life. *Lauren did nothing wrong meme*

The way Lauren says this line, with so much conviction, makes me feel like she genuinely believes it. She believes that she did nothing wrong. She is legitimately deluded about what just happened.

This is only the first in what I remember to be a very long string of instances where Lauren pushes blame onto others and denies any culpability in her shitty actions. At least, in this case, Bo isn’t buying it.

Waiting for Bo in the most extra-ass, goth, flamboyant setup possible is exactly the kind of quality villainy I expect from Vex.

It’s criminal that Bo never gets to use this awesome sword.

And…I love that Vex just gets to walk out of there, laughing. Because the system. And he’s not even really evil. He’s just a sadistic asshole. With a job. It’s. *chef’s kiss*

#lost girl #bo dennis #kenzi malikov #lauren lewis #vex #doccubus #dybo #dyson #1x08

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 1.4 - In which a Worm fights a Wyrm

I felt a chill.  A part of me really wished that I had thought to get my hands on a disposable cell phone.  I didn’t have a utility belt, but the spade shaped section of armor that hung over my spine hid a set of EpiPens, a pen and notepad, a tube of pepper spray meant to hang off a key chain and a zippered pouch of chalk dust.  I could have fit a cell phone back there.  With a cell phone, I could have alerted the real heroes about the fact that Lung was planning to take a score of his flunkies to go and shoot kids.

Damn, she really went unprepared didn’t she? All of the objects mentioned there would probably be useless in a real fight, and with a phone she could alert authorities and not have to worry about biting off more than she can chew.

But as she doesn’t have it now she faces a moral dilemma: do I just ignore it and go back from where I came from and leave the kids to die, or do I jump in and try to disrupt the plans of a dangerous and famous crime boss.

That is less of a trolley problem and more like if there was only one track and you could throw yourself in front of it to derail its course. Cause damn. I guess she could blitz them and then run away?

At least, that’s what I had heard.  I was in a state of disbelief, turning the words around in my head to think of a different context that would make sense of it.  It wasn’t so much the fact that he would do something like that.  I just had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that anyone would.

Oh. Taylor if something is true in the world, is that people are fucked up. Well some of them. There are also shining examples out there. Humanity as a whole is grand, but there are a lot of individuals that defy imagination with their bad deeds

Lung answered a question for one of his gang members, lapsing briefly into another language.  He grabbed one of his minion’s arms and twisted it to an angle where he could get a look at the guy’s watch, so I guessed it had something to do with their timing or when they were leaving.  The gang member who’d had his arm twisted winced as Lung let it go, but didn’t complain.

Look at this perfect way to see the time! Twist the arm of the person nearest you to see the clock. It’s so petty, I love it. Guess it is also a way to assert his influence and power, if he values those.

What was I supposed to do?  I doubted I could find any place in the Docks that would be willing to let me inside to use their phone.  If I headed to the Boardwalk, I wasn’t sure I would find any places that were still open, and I didn’t have change for a payphone. That was another oversight I would have to correct for the next time I went out.  Cell phone, spare change.

Yeah, I was thinking about that. Her house phone is obviously out of the question, and any other method would probably take too much time, not too mention they would change places and would maybe be impossible to find when security arrives

A car pulled up, and another three guys dressed in gang colors got out and and joined the crowd.  Shortly after, the group – twenty or twenty five in total – started walking north, passing below me as they walked down the street.

Oh great, as if things weren’t loopsided enough, reinforcements

I was out of time to consider my options.  As much as I didn’t want to face it, there was really only one option that I could have no regrets about.  I shut my eyes and focused on every bug on the neighborhood, including the sizable swarm I had gathered on the way into the Docks.  I took control of each of them.

Attack.

Oh damn, we are actually going to do it! Best strategy is probably:

1)Take down as much of the goons as possible while also attacking Lung

2)When he starts counterattacking run the fuck away.

I mean, you still would be in danger but his raid would probably be ruined.

It was dark enough that I could only tell where the swarm was with my power.  That meant I couldn’t even tune out the swarm if I wanted to have any idea about what was going on.  My brain was filled with horrendous amounts of information, as I sensed each bite, each sting. As the thousands of insects and arachnids swarmed over and around the group, I could almost see the outlines of each person, just by sensing the shapes of the surfaces the bugs were crawling on, or the areas the vermin wasn’t occupying.  I focused on keeping the more venomous types at bay for the time being – I didn’t need any allergic thugs going into anaphylactic shock from a bee sting or getting serious complications from the bite of a brown recluse spider.

The sensory overload of her power is seriously daunting. Also one of the most powerful aspects of her power if used correctly.

She’s swarming the group, biting and stinging with the softcore bugs. Doesn’t the brown recluse rot the tissue around the bite? A fully monstrous Taylor would be an utter nightmare

I sensed the fire through the swarm before I realized what I was looking at with my eyes.  My power told me of the bugs’ recognition of the heat, but I didn’t even have time to devote conscious thought to block out the instincts the fire set in motion before the damage was done.   The primitive thought processes of my bugs were reduced to confused impulses to alternately flee and to pursue the heat and the light they so often used for navigation.  Many bugs died or were crippled by the heat.  From my vantage point, I could see Lung lashing out with streams of fire from his hands, directing them at the sky.

Flamethrower hands! That’s awesome! And also highly lethal to Taylor’s bugs, which seems to not only burn them but also reverts the bugs back to their instincts in the presence of such danger

I suppressed a laugh, feeling heady with adrenaline.  Was that all he could do?  I directed the swarm to gather, so those who weren’t already biting and stinging were in the midst of the gang.  If he wanted to turn his flames on the swarm, he would have to set his own people on fire.

Fuck yes, Taylor thinks smart in a fight! (and for those of you that have watched Code Geass, doesn’t that almost-laugh and feeling of “I can do it!” after testing powers for the first time just scream Lelouch? )

The heated air and the smells gave me enough information, by way of my insects, to tell where Lung was in the crowd.  I took a deep breath, and then sent in the reserves.  I took a share of the venomous types I’d held at bay and directed them to Lung.  A handful of bees, wasps, a number of the more poisonous spiders, like black widows and brown recluses, and dozens of fire ants.

Damn, Taylor is more powerful here than I thought! Black widows and brown recluses, fireants.... that is a powerful army right there. The goons are fucked, but I get the impression Lung won’t be so easy

He healed fast when his power was working.  Everything I’d read online said that people with healing abilities would shrug off the effects of poisons or drugs, so I knew I’d have to pump him full of enough venom to overwhelm that aspect of his power.  Besides, he was a big guy.  I judged he could take it.

Fuck I forgot he had a healing factor! Taylor’s reaction to this seems to be more of a “Let’s up the DPS and override his healing” more than “oh fuck it’s not working”

Full-on with the venom then! That’s the problem with fighting with a power such as this, you have to get a little monstruous

From the information that I could glean from my bugs, Lung already had maybe a quarter of his body covered in armor.  Triangular sections of metallic plating were piercing through his skin, where they would continue to grow and overlap until he was nigh impenetrable.  If they weren’t already, his fingertips and toes would become like blades or metal claws.

He is really becoming a metal dragon holy shit. I have a really awesome mental image of the grey metal scales draped and surrounded  in orange/red flame.

I felt a sadistic glee as I organized the attack on Lung.  I directed the flying insects to attack his face.  With distaste, I focused the crawling ants and spiders on… other vulnerable areas.  I did my best to ignore the feedback that I got from that particular attack, as I most definitely did not want the same kind of topographical map that the swarm had provided just a minute ago.  Lung was bad news, and I needed him out of action as soon as possible.  That meant delivering the hurt.

Holy hell it must suck being Lung right now. Taylor can be brutal when she needs to be. The problem with fighting with a spoon instead of a knife, you have to go for the soft areas.

Taylor has some blood knight tendencies I see. Getting caught up in the fun of combat are you?

Rationale aside, I did feel a stab of guilt about taking pleasure in someone else’s pain.  I quieted that moment’s remorse by reminding myself that Lung had spread tragedy, addiction and death to innumerable families.  He had been planning to kill kids.

Taylor seems pretty good in rationalizing and justifying her actions. That is both good and possibly troubling for the future

Lung exploded.  No metaphor there.  He detonated in a blast of rolling fire that set his clothes, several pieces of litter and one of his gang members alight.  Almost every bug in his immediate vicinity died or was crippled by the wave of extreme heat.  From my vantage point on the roof, I watched as he turned himself into a human bomb a second time.   The second explosion turned his clothes to rags and sent his people fleeing for cover.  He stepped out of the smoke with his hands burning like torches, the silvery scales that covered nearly a third of his body reflecting the flame.

He just went fuck it, omnidirectional blazing inferno, scorched earth, and wiped out alll the insects he had on him.

I think you should run, this is a baaad matchup for your abilities

Damn, damn, damn.  He was fireproof?  Or skilled enough at using fire to superheat the air around him without burning himself?  The meager scraps of clothing that covered him were burning away, and fire licked and danced around his hands without him seeming to care.

I think he probably has a power that lets him generate fire very close to his body but without it ever touching it. Either that or he becomes fire wherever he generates it, like a devil fruit elemental power.

He roared.  It wasn’t the monstrous roar one might expect, but a very human sound of rage and frustration.  As human as it sounded, though, it was loud.  All the way down the street neighborhood, lights and flashlights flickered on in response to the explosions and the roar.  I even saw a few faces peering through windows to see the action.  Idiots.  If Lung’s next attack shattered any glass, they could get hurt.

Lung: fucking bugs! what in the fuck?? I go out to do my attack and a goddamn plague falls on top of me. Whoever is responsible for this is already cinders!!

From where I was crouched on the side of the roof, I directed some of the more harmless insects to attack Lung.  He lashed out with fire the moment they started crawling on him, which I had more or less expected. He was managing to kill the majority of the bugs with each burst of flame, and knowing what I did about his powers, I knew his flames would only get bigger, hotter and more dangerous.

Are there upper limits to his power? Or does he just, get stronger. Cause that would eventually be both aboslutely OP and a spectacle to behold.

In a typical fight, you figure someone would get weaker as the fight dragged on.  They would take their lumps, get tired, exhaust their bag of tricks.  With Lung, it was the opposite.  I found myself regretting that I had used only a relatively small number of the more venomous bugs, because it was becoming clear that what I’d used wasn’t having much effect.  He had no idea where I was, so I figured I still had the upper hand, but my options and the number of bugs in my swarm were running out.  Despite my earlier glee, I wasn’t sure I could win this anymore.

Lung thrives in a fight of attrition. As his enemies gets weaker he keeps getting stronger, until you give up and flee

You have probably lost your chance of beating him, or at least you will when he gets completely covered in the scales.

I hissed through my teeth, all too aware that time was running out. Before long, Lung would set fire to the city block, become immune to bites and stings in general, or destroy my entire swarm.  I had to get creative.  I had to get meaner.

Ooor you just could go 2000% offensive to all his tender bits before he gets the chance to completely transform. Holy shit.

I focused my attention on a lone wasp, and piloted it around Lung’s back, up behind his head and then had it circle around to his face and straight at his eyeball.  The wasp touched his eyelash, and he blinked before it could hit the target.  As a consequence, the stinger only sank into his eyelid, prompting yet another explosion of fire and a scream of rage.

Again. I thought.  A honeybee this time.  I wasn’t sure if he eventually got armor plated eyelids, but maybe I could use the stings to make his eyes swell shut?  He wouldn’t be able to fight if he couldn’t see.

Go for the fucking eyes. No fucking mercy over here

Maybe I won’t have to hypothesize about ruthless Taylor, she already seems to be there

and it’s great

The bee struck home this time, sinking his stinger into the ball of Lung’s eye.  It surprised me in that it didn’t stick or kill the bee, so I had the bee sting again, and this time the barbs let it stick in the skin at the corner of his eye, at the side of his nose.  The bee died that time, leaving some tiny organs and a venom sac hanging from the stinger. 

Lung could probably regenerate this damage, but still ow ow ow it must suuuck to be him

I expected him to explode again.  He didn’t.  Instead, he set himself on fire, head to toe.  I waited a moment, poised to attack with the next wasp to attack the moment he dropped his guard, but as the seconds passed, I realized he wasn’t planning on extinguishing himself.  My heart sank.

Surely he was burning up all of the oxygen in his vicinity.  Didn’t he need to breathe?  What the hell was the fuel source for his fire?

Oh shit now he’s like a walking demon covered in flame. No need to wait for the scales to fully cover him. He’s already invulnerable

Run

Standing in the street, he turned around, searching for me, with the flames that licked and rolled over his body casting light where there had been only gloom.  Abruptly, he hunched over.  I wondered if – I hoped – the various toxins and venoms in his system had done the trick. Then his back separated into two.  A meaty looking gap appeared along his spine, followed by an eruption of long metallic scales all down the gap.  After bristling for a few moments, the scales lay flat like dominoes falling.  He stood and stretched, and I could swear he was a foot taller, now with an armor plated spine.

Still on fire, head to toe.

He’s reaching perfect form

Will he be an actual demon/dragon at 100%?

Already he is becoming less human

Aah I wish someone like Murata could draw this, it would be a fucking spectacle

If the ‘constantly on fire’ thing had tipped the balance of the fight to futile, watching Lung grow and look stronger than ever had pushed me to the point of being spooked.  I started thinking about an exit strategy.  Rationally, I figured, Lung’s men were scattered to the four winds and they were probably in pretty rough shape.  Whatever Lung had been planning for tonight, chances were he wasn’t going to be able to carry out whatever plans he’d had after this debacle.  I had more or less accomplished what I needed to, and I figured I could run and find a way to contact the PHQ just in case.

Yeaaah time to get the fuck out

His plan is probably fucked, now let’s just pray he doesn’t kill you

That was the rational perspective.  Justifications aside, I just wanted to leave, right then.  If things dragged on and I stayed put, there was a very real chance that Lung would give evidence to the rumor that he could grow wings, at which point I would be spotted for sure.  I wouldn’t be able to beat Lung at this point, anyway, which left only a graceless retreat as the remaining option.

Ooh if he grew wings, you would have nowhere left to escape to anymore. Good thing is he would probably attrack the attention of some hero at least. A flying Wyvern of flame tends to stand out

Lung had his back turned to me, so I lifted myself up, slowly. Crouching, I backed up to retreat to the fire escape, watching Lung carefully as I set foot on the gravel of the roof.

As if a gunshot had gone off, Lung whirled around to stare at me. One of his eyes was just a glowing line behind his mask, but the other was like an orb of molten metal.

A victorious roar filled the air, less human than the outcry he had made earlier, and I felt a kind of resignation.  Enhanced hearing.  The package of powers the bastard got from his transformation included superhuman hearing.

.....

well fuck

f u u u c k

Lung is OP, he now has super senses and has found you. You better pray someone noticed, cause I don’t think you can do anything right now

Aaaa, and I got cliffhangered! I’ll see you guys on the next part!

I don’t have time to do the homestuck update today, will do it tomorrow!

#parahumans #wildbow #worm parahumans #worm liveblog #parahumans liveblog #worm #arc 1 #Worm 1.4

[dontcallmecarrie]

Hi! What would your take be on only Tony remembering the future from your AU By Myself But Not Alone. Like nobody remembers. And JARVIS goes Skynet just by listening to Tony? So, like what kind of damage/changes would he do to the world? Also, love all your WIPs and AUs! Thanks!

[warnings: mention of severe mental health issues, mention of suicide. Thus the cut.]

O.O

…um, friend, that would be a very, very dark AU and would run entirely counter to the entire premise of By Myself But Not Alone. I haven’t had much time to read fanfic for the MCU [classes and trying to write = not much time for other stuff], but if I understand correctly, dls’ If You Had The Time Again is probably what you want? Since it looks like it’d be an awesome time travel fixit to read?

Because otherwise…yikes.  

See, here’s the thing: the entire premise of the AU is built on the ‘mass time travel’ thing. That’s the fun of it, for me; playing with the butterfly effect as the fixits come crashing together, seeing the balancing act the time travelers have to do throughout their quest to avoid the Bad Ending. Bucky waking up after the train is essential for this, Nick Fury and Maria Hill both going ‘oh fuck what year is it’ is also key, etc. 

At its core, By Myself But Not Alone is meant to be a fairly fluffy AU, meant to be a respite from the way the MCU’s just gotten darker and edgier over the years. It’s meant to have all the self-indulgence I couldn’t work into TWiFFON, with as many ‘team as family’ tropes I can cram into it.

I mention this, because what your ask is suggesting is something that runs entirely counter to that. 

Especially because it’s about something that comes up in the original outline, something that would catapult this AU into far darker territory. 

[Here’s where the warning comes into play, btw.]

Because if Tony were to wake up alone, there’d be no one to save him, in Afghanistan.

Tony gets his memories in 2008, when he sees the bomb with his name on it— only, where he’d expected to see his past flashing before his eyes, instead he sees his future. Sees a very bleak future with very little support, sees trauma after trauma in a world that did its best to break him. Even if the prospect of Thanos terrifies him to the core about the Earth’s safety, it’s not enough, not right now. 

Because everything he’s seeing is telling him that if he let things play out, then it would’ve still all gone to waste, would’ve still ended in failure despite his best attempts, and…in that moment, Tony can’t bear it. 

In one life, Tony would’ve ducked for cover, when he saw the bomb. Here, all Tony sees is an out. 

The world’s better off without him in it, anyway.

Long story short, the only reason Tony survived in the main timeline is because Stephen Strange is the Time Stone’s favorite person. 

Originally, before I realized just how sad I made myself, By Myself But Not Alone would’ve just resulted in mass mourning because now everyone’s seeing just how much Tony shaped their timeline. Would’ve seen a world without Iron Man, without privatized world peace, without a champion pushing for a better future despite all the challenges he faced. 

This is why there’s so, so many regrets, when word gets out. 

This is why Peter Parker doesn’t forgive the Avengers. Why Loki takes a vindictive glee in giving the Avengers hell afterwards, why Thor’s stunned into silence and then starts to distance himself from the rest of the team. Steve feels the most guilt, because he never got the chance to apologize for Siberia; the SHIELD crew just exchange looks of quiet horror and resignation, when they see the headlines after Obadiah Stane vanishes, and then again as the world starts to lose its original, fragile hope because they’re doing their best but Iron Man started an era this world would never see. 

Bucky’s equal parts grief-stricken and pissed off, when he sees the fallout of Tony’s death. He’d been so, so meticulous in fixing the timeline, only now it sometimes felt like they were back to square one because apparently Tony’d been even busier than they’d all known. 

They still all fight the good fight, of course, but…there’s a more painful edge to it now. Where before, it’d almost been like a game with friends, now there’s ringing silences where they were used to snark, cold ashes where they’d remembered a roaring flame. 

Tony Stark’s loss is a devastating blow, and that his legacy was the one to fill his role is but a cold comfort. Literally, because JARVIS is fucking frigid to the Avengers, and that he apparently now commands a robot army is something that unsettles them and leaves them all with so many questions because what.

No, seriously, what the hell, why hadn’t Tony told them he could’ve basically made Ultron back when he was a teenager, if they’d known about his other AI they wouldn’t have given him shit for Sokovia—and then Loki snarks about victim-blaming and that shuts them up even as Spider-Man gives him a shameless thumbs up before swinging away.

…aaaand I just made myself sad again, dammit this is why I made a fix-it in the first place.

So, yeah.

Stepping back, this is why it’s a mass time travel in the first place; otherwise, if only Tony’d returned, there wouldn’t be nearly as much grief otherwise. Like, sure, it’d be sad, but if no one remembers a better future then it’s just an absent ‘okay that happened, moving on now’ fleeting thing, instead of a bone-deep grief that rocks everyone to their core because they know the sheer potential this world had, and knowing it would never happen here makes for a raw sort of agony. 

…um. That came out a lot more bitter than expected, sorry. And I’m still sad, so here, have another moment of the fixit:

The Ancient One, Wong, and Mordo were all very surprised when Stephen had bolted out after his fight. While they’d anticipated the regular jitters novices had after their first encounter with death, he’d seemed far more distraught than that— but in a very different way. 

Not only that, but he’d left via a perfectly-formed portal.

Something strange was afoot. His reaction alone had been very odd, when he’d seen them; he’d blanched, then looked around as if seeing everything for the first time, and then— he’d left.

He’d left, and they didn’t even know where.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Sorry, I just need to check on something. Be right back,” he called before they could even reach him, and then the man who had been struggling with magic in combat not the day before had confidently thrown himself into the portal he’d made with an absent gesture.

“What books did he get his hands on?” Mordo asked warily, and Wong just shook his head. 

“Not the ones that would’ve resulted in that.” 

“He hid his path,” said the Ancient One, and they both jerked their heads sharply towards her.

“You mean—”

“He hid his path as easily as Kaecilius did, and I…there’s time magic involved.”

“But the Eye—” Even as he spoke, however, Mordo felt it, as something pulsed three times, and then yet another portal opened…only for its source location to shift across space and time in a way a master would have been loath to attempt.

“Stephen has a lot to answer for.” The Ancient One said with a slight frown, and Mordo readied himself as a very wild-eyed Stephen threw himself through before it closed behind him, clutching at a—was that Tony Stark?

“What have you done?” Wong exclaimed even as he moved to help with the man currently going through a panic attack.

Mordo’s moved to help as well, but his attention was caught by the familiar gleam of something gold around Strange’s neck. That couldn’t be right—

“You have the Eye,” the Ancient One said with a raised eyebrow, even as she too moved to approach them. “The Eye that we personally ensured was secured during the Zealots’ attack. Stephen, what have you been up to?”

The man in question didn’t answer immediately, more focused on checking over the man under his care with all the speed and efficiency that reminded them all of his past as a doctor. Once he was sure the stranger— Tony Stark? But how?— was relatively unharmed, only then did he draw himself up, and look them in the eye evenly.

In doing so, the Eye of Agamotto was put into full display, gleaming almost tauntingly as his shoulders squared and his cloak settled itself. 

In that moment, Stephen Strange didn’t look like a novice newly-inducted into magic, didn’t look like a man who’d just had to fight for his life for the first time. No, instead, he met them all with the ease and grace of a seasoned Master of the Mystic Arts, and an enigmatic smile.

“That is…a long story, my friends. One best told over a long drink.”

#I got an ask! #Naught replies #replies #Naught rambles #By Myself But Not Alone #behind the scenes mini fic #behind the scenes #bonus content #meta #My writing #My fic