#to actually take the easy way out of anything. and she keeps getting clients who turn out to have really not done it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

majorblinks · 2 years

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when cameras are flashing (ive yujin)

(smut, idol yujin, daddy kink, age gap, choking, "quickie", oral, 5k words)

“So,” you say, and Ahn Yujin smiles brightly at you across the conference table. “How’d you manage to fuck up this week?”

It’s barely professional, but you’re you - you’re past all that, over courtesy, propriety. Yujin’s manager clears her throat, levels you with an unamused glare. You cock your head, spread your hands out in surrender: “Look,” you say, “I’m just trying to get a feel for the situation.”

“Oh,” says Yujin, in her carefree, entirely charming way. “Well, if you’re just trying to get a feel for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. She raises one right back, sweetly challenging. Hey, here’s how it goes with her: another day, another scandal.

It’s actually kind of insane, considering Yujin is hands-down one of the most normal, sincere, well-intentioned celebrities you’ve ever worked for - and that’s a long list. It’s almost hilarious, that people go after her the way they do, because as far as you can see, she never does anything wrong. She’s practically angelic, by standards of fame. No boys, no bullying allegations, no benders.

Still - and you can say this, because you’re one of the best publicists in the game - being famous at her age and with her face is a largely uphill battle. Gorgeous enough to attract jealousy, genuine enough for all the people jumping through hoops to maintain their personas to despise her, young and talented and charismatic enough for the rumor mill to love her and hate her at the exact same time. There’s sympathy, and of course you have it - but then there’s that look on Yujin’s pretty features, in front of you now.

Nothing gets to her. You find it impressive, a little fascinating: there’s a reason she’s one of your favorites.

“And?” You lean back in your chair, gaze shifting from Yujin to her manager and back again. “What are we dealing with?”

You’re observing Yujin carefully, trying to get a feel on how bad this is going to be - her long, glossy black hair falls over both shoulders, effortlessly flawless; the fluttering eyelashes, the dimple - then there’s the outfit, the tight white shirt, the pants, tapering in at her tiny waist; they’re an almost offensively vibrant shade of bubblegum pink, but she’s miraculously pulling it off-

Yujin’s manager clears her throat, again.

You smile. If she’s bothered about you staring at her client, she can say it to your face. “Yes?”

“There was a photoshoot,” says Yujin’s manager, eyeing you like she thinks you’re about to mount Yujin right there at the conference table - which is extreme. You’re a professional, you’re surrounded by obscenely beautiful people on the daily - and Yujin’s too young for you, anyway. It’s not even a question. Barely even a thought in your head. “Here, take a look-”

Yujin’s manager passes her phone towards you, lets you swipe through the photos, and - well, shit-

Okay, it’s more than barely a thought in your head.

“Hm,” you say, keeping your face studiously blank; it’s something you’ve perfected over the years, but still, Jesus. It’s a series of pictures of Yujin in this silky, slinky black two-piece - there are her thighs, the defined cut of her abs, the way she tilts her head, parts her lips; the camera loves her, but who wouldn’t - and it’s sex, it’s sin, it’s every dirty word wrapped up in one - but like you said, both Yujin and her manager are staring straight at you right now, and you’re a professional.

You place the phone back down on the table, summon all the nonchalance possible. “Looks fine to me.”

Clearly, you’ve failed, at least on some level. “Dial it back,” advises Yujin’s manager, disdainfully.

“Yeah,” echoes Yujin, cheerfully, fingers laced underneath her chin, dark eyes dancing. “Dial it back.”

You fix her with a pointed glance, cautionary. She’s always a little flirtatious, but that’s her thing, her trademark - it’s easy for the whole country to fall for her when she talks to everyone like they might be able to touch her if they play their cards right - but there’s something a little more obvious about it today, and you don’t know how to take it.

“Sure,” you say, relenting; you don’t know what game she’s playing and you’re not sure you want to. “What are people saying?”

“People think it’s too suggestive,” says Yujin, raking a hand through her hair, the delicate point of her wrist only a little mesmerizing. “Or seductive, or something. Which is crazy, because it’s just me being hot and existing.”

Somehow all her comments come off as charming rather than arrogant - or she manages both, all at once. It’s that smile: goddamn irresistible. You get why she bounces back from every stupid scandal, and it’s not just that you’re helming the ship of her image. People hate her, they love her, they do both at the same time. Price of fame: it’s a fickle thing. The one constant is that it’s Ahn Yujin, and people never really stop talking about her - and in the end, for a girl like her, that’s the ultimate goal.

“They’re overreacting,” says Yujin’s manager, but her eyes are back on her phone, her fingers suddenly flicking fast. “It’s not - ugh - I mean, it’s such an insane double standard, the way they treat you versus the way they - fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, right when her phone rings. “I have to take this.”

“Go ahead,” says Yujin. There’s a goal, here - her eyes dart to you, smile drenched with intention - and she tips her chin up at her manager as she stands. “We’ll behave.”

This gives her manager pause, right in the doorway. She holds her phone in her hand, lets her gaze do circuits between it and the two of you - but she’s responsible, so she doesn’t have a choice.

“You’d better,” she says, a warning meant solely for you; it’d be insulting, but she probably knows better than anyone how men like you act around girls like Yujin. “I’ll be back in, like, two minutes.”

Then the door’s clicking shut - the sound is like a latch to a coffin, a vault decimated and snapped right open - sealing you in, sure, but opening up something else entirely. Yujin runs her tongue under a canine, studies you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room; you can’t figure out her angle.

“So,” you say, coolly - you’re trying to maintain some approximation of control. See, you’re far from the most fascinating sight in the vicinity; you’re on one of the highest floors of the building, and all the windows are spotless, glass gleaming - there’s a view to die for, streets and cityscapes and all that open sky - and she’s still looking only at you.

“I think you’ll be fine,” you continue. You’re not that intimidated by a pretty little pop star, so you’ll hold her gaze. It’s one challenge you don’t mind taking. “It’s not that much to dig you out of. It’s not like the photoshoot was anything majorly scandalous - people are just blowing things out of proportion, but that also means it’ll blow over fast. Because, really, it’s like you said. It’s just you being - well - it’s just you existing.”

Yujin looks mildly entertained by your fumble, like she knows it was an amateur move. “It’s just me being what?”

You pin her with a look, but she presses on, smile curling at her mouth - it’s a slip-up she’s not going to let slide. “Are you afraid to call me hot?”

“Afraid’s a little strong,” you say, dryly. “I’d say I’m being mindful. Respectful. Professional, if you will.” There’s that word again; you’ll hold onto it like a lifeline.

“Oh, yeah?” There’s a turn she’s taken, something sneaking into her tone, something primal saturating her dark eyes. Yujin sits up straight, drops her elbows on the table, inclines her head like she’s assessing you. “You think admitting that you think I’m hot would be unprofessional?”

“Deeply,” you say, flexing your fingers so you don’t do something stupid like stand up, like walk over to her, like grip her hair in your fist and trap her body against the conference table. “It’d be a scandal waiting to happen.”

Turns out all your self-discipline is a moot point. Now Yujin’s the one standing from her chair, approaching you slow - there’s something about the way she moves her body, so aware of every dip and curve; it’s like a weapon she’s flaunting, a knife right to your jugular - and she stops right in front of you, propping her hip to the table. She’s standing, and you’re still seated. She’s not exactly short, but she’s tiny compared to you. You shouldn’t think about it, but you’re thinking about it.

“Like I care,” says Yujin, grinning. “Besides - there’s no scandal I could get in that you wouldn’t get me out of, right?”

“You’re feisty today,” you comment, still wrestling for the upper hand. “Does the threat of losing your career get you going or something?”

“I’m not going to lose my career,” says Yujin, airily, like she finds the prospect hilarious. There’s that arrogance, and it’s so much more enticing than it has any right to be. “And - no, it doesn’t. But watching you try to keep your cool while looking at pictures of me when it’s so obvious that you want to fuck me - yeah, I’d call that a turn-on.”

There’s that weapon, aiming and firing; there’s that blade, straight into your neck. There’s your lifelines, sliced to ribbons. “Who says I want to fuck you?”

Yujin laughs at that, full and musical. “Come on,” she says, and it’s a battle you’ve already lost. “Everybody wants to fuck me.”

Your eyes flicker over to the closed door. “Your manager said she’ll be back in two minutes.”

“She’ll take twenty, minimum.”

“This is a bad idea,” you warn, but it’s a half-assed cover, barely concealed - you’re not scared of her, but then there’s everything touching her would trigger. She’s got her weapons, but you’ve got your own. The flat of your palm finds her hip, and you won’t stand; you've got other plans. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Why do I have to get into anything?” Yujin’s hands drop, and now she’s popping the button of her pants, sliding the zipper. “It’s just sex,” she says, watching your expression, perfectly cavalier. You grit your teeth. You don't go for it yet. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“For a girl like you?” you ask, and now she’s dragging down her pants, revealing her panties, thighs, inch by mouthwatering inch. “It would be close.”

You’re talking about reputation, about the ever-present threat of social suicide - she’s a perpetual hot topic, and just her face sends tongues wagging, so this’d be doomsday - but Yujin’s got her pants pushed down to her knees, and there’s an undercurrent to it, a desire that goes somewhere beyond sexual. You'll bite:

“What’s your angle?” you ask finally, surveying her. Ah, you’ll give her what she wants, but it’s the nature of your job: you need to find every possible way to spin it, all the light and shadow and nuance. “I’ve been your publicist for this long, and you just decided out of the blue that you wanted me to fuck you?”

Yujin pauses, eyes glimmering, keening into your hand on her hip. “Most guys wouldn’t ask this many questions.”

“I’m obviously not most guys.” You’re older, you’re smarter, you run her fucking career - if she falls, you do, too. “Are you done deflecting?”

Oh, talk about light: Yujin tips her head, silky hair spilling over her collarbone, sunlight filtering in through the windows - she’s drowning in it, catching it in her irises like gold, her glint of teeth like there might be already cameras flashing - and slowly, you ease her up onto the table, until you’re sitting in front of her, right between her legs. She’s criminally gorgeous, she’s filthy, she’s everything; she’s staring down at you, deliberating, mouth curved in something like victory.

“I guess I just realized that I’m getting the reputation of being slutty without actually having any of the fun,” says Yujin. “And I guess-” She plants her hands flat on the table, lets her legs part. “The first person I thought of to help me fix that was you.”

“Smart choice,” you commend, your hands on her thighs, your thumbs already hooked into the waistband of her panties; you’re touching her now and you’re not sure how you’ll ever stop.

“I always wanted you to fuck me,” Yujin says, letting the confession slip like it’s weightless. “I promise you it’s nothing new.”

Well, and that’s-

That’s something that shuts your brain off entirely, reduces you to the tactile - you forget why there was ever a need to hold back, so you won’t; you’ve got your fingers on her skin, spreading, pants shoved to her ankles - you tug her panties down and flick your tongue up, and Yujin whimpers, “Daddy.”

You stop short, focus flying to her face, and her dark-eyed stare slams right into yours.

“Yujin,” you say, when you finally manage to unstick her name from your throat - it comes raspy, a little ruined - but there’s her attitude, and all that tension between the two of you. The age difference, and the power, and there’s a dynamic, a connotation - and maybe you really should’ve seen this coming.

“Daddy,” Yujin exhales, again, voice tripping to breathy, needy - and, fuck, you think she’s gonna kill you. “I need your mouth.”

You don’t break your gaze on hers, searching - her hands tremble on the table, restless with an urge; she’s used to making demands, but she knows how to read a room. She may have instigated this, but now you’re in it: there’s a switch flipped, a shift in control. You’ve got both hands on the wheel, foot to the gas. She won’t get anywhere by being bossy with you.

“Fine,” you say, smile slipping dark. You can’t say you’re a man who hates having power. “But no touching me.”

Yujin tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, nods quickly, frantically - it’s not good enough. You hold her eyes, dig your thumb harder into her thigh: “Words, please, Yujin.”

“I won’t touch you,” Yujin swears. She’s so wet - you can still taste her cunt on your tongue, so you’ll take more. Your mouth’s so close she’s barely forming sentences, squirming with anticipation - “Daddy, I won’t, I just need you-”

There’s an invitation, and you can’t pass it up. This is a girl who always gets exactly what she wants, and you’re not going to be the one to break that streak, so you lower her mouth to her pussy - there’s her clit, and she’s soaked, she’s mewling - and she’ll be pliant in your grip, in your tongue right where she needs it: “Daddy,” she’s saying, over and over, like it’s the only thing she can remember - oh, you kind of like her that way. “Daddy, daddy-”

Yujin’s hips stutter like she wants to grind on your mouth, like she wants to dig her fingers in your hair and ride your tongue - but your fingers press into her skin like a warning, and her fists stay staunchly clenched at her sides, fiercely white-knuckled-

“Good girl,” you mumble, against her cunt, listening as Yujin’s moans tumble from her mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum-”

She says it, but she doesn’t have to - her eyes are shut tight, her perfect face screwed up like she’s on the verge on collapse - she’s shuddering, she’s on a precipice, she’s so, so close-

You scrape your nails lightly down her thighs - I could hurt you but I won’t; there’s always an implication - and then Yujin’s cumming in your mouth.

You'd let her settle, let yourself linger, but you really don't have the time: “Baby,” you say, and you’re rising, licking your lips - she tastes like something holy, but that’s a given. "We only have twenty minutes, so if you want me to fuck you, you better get moving.”

“Can I touch you?” You’re helping Yujin off the table; you’re dragging her towards the windows. You’ve got an agenda here, and her fists are clenching, unclenching - she’s got her gaze trained on your cock straining your slacks. “Let me, please - I want your cock-”

“Look at you,” you say - you nudge her until her back hits the glass, and she’s facing you, pants wrapped around her ankles - she’s gorgeous, she’s waiting; she’s impatient but tamping it down just for you. It’s those eyes, so expressive: if her mouth wasn’t saying it, you’d still know exactly what she wanted. “Asking for permission.”

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby,” you say: it’s not a relinquishment of power, it’s a reinforcement. “Get my cock out.”

Yujin does, in record time - she’s keyed up, deliciously wired, but her hands are certain, don’t fumble a bit - you’re skipping lines and walking them right back, so you kiss her first, catch her mouth with yours: there’s a surprise to the way she loses her own breath against your lips, and then a surrender, a giving in - you’re grinning, devilish. You’re sure she can feel it.

When you pull back, she’s panting, lips slick. She can taste her pussy on your tongue and you know it. “Tell me,” you’re saying: you need to hear it. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want your cock.” There’s not even any hesitation - Yujin’s so far past that. Hey, maybe she did know what she was getting into: she knew exactly the way you’d treat her. “Want your cock in my pussy, want you to fuck me, want you to make me cum around your cock-”

There’s her perfect face, crumbling to pieces, pupils blown so wide they’re drowning her dark irises - you flip her around and skim your hands down her flawless ass, push her up against the floor-to-ceiling windows - it’s all so ruthlessly transparent, like you’ve gotten into a museum just to vandalize the art, mark it up and make it yours, destroy her encased behind glass - and Yujin’s soundless, so wanton and wet she can’t even form words, noises-

And then you slide your cock in her cunt, slowly, torturously, and her voice gets ripped right out of her throat.

“Daddy-”

Her throat - oh, there’s a corner to cut, a sculpture to tear up and ruin - your fingers wrap around her neck from behind, rendering her helpless, strangled. “Shh,” you murmur, sinister, low, “sweetheart - you don’t really want to get caught like this, do you?” There’s a thrill, there’s a high - you’ve got her against the glass like she’s suspended in thin air, and there’s her smile on a billboard across the street, there’s all those people who know her name crowding the sidewalks below - and she’s all yours. “Getting your little pussy fucked during a professional meeting because you’re just too slutty to control yourself?”

Yujin’s shirt and bra are pushed up roughly, carelessly, her perky tits bouncing, nipples skimming the glass - she’s leaking all over your cock, and you’d hate to be the janitor after this, but at least they’re getting paid well - it’s all about scrutiny, about secrecy, hiding behind tinted windows and sunglasses and silver-screen smiles, and you’re destroying all of that just by using Yujin’s suffocatingly tight cunt, tensing your hand around her throat-

Your thumb digs into her jaw. “Answer me.”

“I - I don’t - I don’t fucking care.” She’s barely getting words out under your grip on her throat, between the lungfuls of air she’s chasing after, faint and flightless - “I don’t care, daddy,” she’s insisting, and her vehemence is fucking consuming, addicting - “Don’t care, I just want your cock in me, just need you to fuck me, just need you to make me cum, make you cum, fill me up-”

“I’m not cumming inside you, baby.”

“What?” She sounds so horrified that you can’t help but laugh, and the sound rings cruel, sharp; people call you cold in this conference room, sometimes, conniving, callous. It’s nothing, to you: you do what needs to be done and you keep it at work and work alone - or you did, until her. “What? But - daddy, please, daddy - please-”

She's being too fucking loud - you’re bottoming out inside her pussy relentlessly, recklessly - you’ll spin excuses later, or you won’t. The worst thing anybody can do is talk, and you’ll talk over them: your PR training wasn’t for nothing. You could manipulate the apocalypse out of the press as long as you find the right angle. You weren’t lying, earlier: anyone catches her like this and it’d be close.

“Doesn’t matter how much you beg for me, Yujin.” There are caveats, barriers you won’t cross; not with a girl like her, not yet. “You might be fucked up enough to risk your career just for a load inside your cunt, but I’m not. Your career is my career, sweetheart. If you fuck up, it’s all on me.”

It’s like the atmosphere is electric, wired with sex, sensuality - anyone who walks into this room after this is going to know exactly what you’ve been doing to her - anyone on the sidewalk who so much as glances upwards is going to see-

“You don’t wanna fill up my pussy with your cum?” Yujin’s cunt is so tight that she’d probably be able to convince anyone of anything, and then there’s that voice, throaty and heated, letting filth pour as easy as her moans. “You don’t wanna use me as your - fuck - your fucking cumdump, daddy?”

That’s a question she’s posing and precariously, a proposition so tempting you’d call it fatal - but there’s your fist around her throat, there’s you in control, drafting rules, contracts. You're too experienced to fall for it. You’re on the clock even when you’re not. You know just how far to take it and when to pull it back.

“Nice try,” you say, and your hand presses down on her neck in a warning, your cock burying in her pussy in an emphasis, “but I’ve been on this scene a long time, Yujin. Your pussy’s great - but I’m sorry, baby, my career’s just a little bit greater.”

It’s so degrading - it’s you, older and condescending and cutting her down to size with a smile - and she loves it, she lives for it. You shouldn't have expected anything less.

“You think I’d give it all up for some slutty little pop star?” you press on, and you’re rubbing it in, salt in the wound: “You idols are all the same.” Another thrust, another moan: here’s how it goes with her. “All that fucking ego.”

Her whole body’s tightly wound, a spring coiled and ready to burst - she’s so wet around your cock, she’s so ready - “Daddy,” Yujin begs, syllables rasping prettily, and even the way she gets fucked is like music, “I’m gonna cum - gonna cum on your cock-”

There’s no acoustics that could ever do that voice justice, no photoshoot that could ever capture that body, every creamy curve, her ass as your hips thrust - the arch of her back, the column of her throat, architecture made soft and breakable and shattered - your hand drops to her clit-

“Cum for me, baby,” you murmur, and shove her tits against the window: if the world wants to see Ahn Yujin like this, all they have to do is look up. “Cum for daddy.”

She follows the order so easily it’s practically compulsive; it’s the sound of your voice, your fingers on her clit, your dick pounding at her cunt, it’s everything - and Yujin’s whole body contorts, convulses, slumps against you as she cums, a high noise trapped in her throat. It’s some attempt at your name, or at least the one she’s calling you now.

You nip at her neck on the comedown, allow her to ride it out. “Get on your knees,” you murmur, then you let your teeth sink.

It barely takes a second - she’s not even coherent - but Yujin’s neck arcs, gives you access; you’re not sure she understands a word until she’s falling right out of your arms, off your cock, dropping dutifully to the floor. You can’t fight the smile: she’s so easy, in this context and no other, her shirt shucked up and her pussy slick, glistening, her mouth opening expectantly like she’s just waiting for you to use it. Your hand finds her cheek, suddenly soft: she’s been good, she deserves it.

“Yujin.”

Yujin doesn’t say a word, just lets her jaw slacken, her eyes wide and wondrous, gorgeous; you see the dimple flicker in her cheek, an aftershock, betraying her own satisfaction. She can’t even control herself. Her thighs are still trembling, expression mildly dazed.

“Sorry I couldn’t cum in your cunt, sweetheart,” you say, loftily. It’s hardly genuine, but she’s too sated to care. “You think I can settle with your mouth?”

There’s that dimple, deepening; she’s somewhat incapable of saying no to you, and that’s a new development, that’s something you’ll prove over and over again - Yujin jerks forward, and wraps her salivating mouth around your dick.

Her tongue’s sloppy around your cock, spit-strung, messy, like she’s so well-fucked she doesn’t remember how to work it - it’s your job, so you’ll take it all into your own hands; hey, it’s what you’re used to, it’s the part you were always meant to play - there go your fingers, digging tight into her hair, forcing her jaw deeper, forcing tears from her brilliant eyes-

“You better swallow it all,” you tell her, low and dangerous; your nails scrape her scalp, and she chokes around your cock at the feeling - it’s that hint of pain, humiliation, her on her knees in your conference room. “You wanna be good for daddy, don’t you?” Your hand finds the back of her head, shoves your cock down her throat. “Then swallow.”

You cum so much you can hear the wet, huffy noise in Yujin’s mouth, the air through her nose - and she swallows it all, even as you pull out and it clogs her cheeks, and she’s staring at you with glassy, impish eyes like she’s got something to prove-

And then it’s all gone.

“Good girl,” you tell her, a little wrecked. Hey, she fucking deserves it.

Yujin trails a finger around her mouth, licks off the remnants of your cum, looks up at you through her eyelashes. It’s obscene, it’s dirty, it’s hot - and that’s your last thought before you drag her up from the floor and catch her lips with yours, because you can’t be bothered to come up with anything else.

She tries to talk, slurring against your tongue. “You just-”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“In my mouth-”

“Yujin.”

It’s something about your tone, accidentally petulant rather than bossy, exasperation soft and unmasked - all of a sudden Yujin’s laughing right into the kiss, her arms wound around your neck, the sound half-delirious, glorious.

“You were so wrong,” she mumbles, licking hot like she’s readying for a round two. You’ve got her face in your hands, you can’t get enough of her: if you could you’d freeze time and indulge her, over and over again. “This is the best fucking idea I’ve ever had.”

She’s kissing you again, right back in it, and, well - you can’t really say that you disagree.

“I think you were heavily exaggerating, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have the reputation of being slutty,” you say, a hand in her hair, watching the sun illuminate her eyes. That’s the thing about windows, all this glass and open space: they show off views, but they’re also creating them right in front of you. “I’d never let it get that far.”

Yujin grins at you. “I know,” she says - she’s returning to form, letting the moment close. She’s back on top. It’s probably a good thing that you’re right there by her side. “You’re good at your job, or whatever.”

“Now, you being slutty in real life-”

“Shut the fuck up, old man.”

Okay, you can’t possibly be that much older than her. “What happened to daddy?”

“Daddy privileges are revoked on account of you being fucking annoying.”

“That mouth,” you say, considering - there are ideas taking shape, but you’ll let them dissolve. You’ve already used up more time than you should have. “What would your fans say?”

Yujin tips her head back and laughs. “I don’t care,” she says, smiling, and that’s the best view of all. “I have you to deal with that.”

You and Yujin are on opposite sides of the conference table when her manager gets back, but neither of you are fooling anyone. Sure, you’re both remarkably cleaned up, stitched back together - but the room smells like sex, and her hair’s just a little fucked up, and you can’t stop looking at her; her dark eyes glint right on back, one leg demurely crossed over the other.

“I don’t even want to know,” says Yujin’s manager tightly, firmly in the doorway, like she’ll get contaminated just from stepping into the room.

“Good,” you say, “because you can’t know. Legally. I made her sign an NDA.”

“What?!” Yujin’s manager splutters, irate, and Yujin laughs loudly, prettily, head tipping back, clapping her hands in the air - she laughs like her own amusement is something to spill over and share with everyone in the vicinity, alluringly infectious, and - yep, you get why the whole world is obsessed with her. You’ll join the club.

“I’m kidding,” you put in, grinning at Yujin as she stands, lips puckering to hide her own mirth. “You remember what a joke is, right, Jihyo?”

“Jesus,” mumbles Yujin’s manager. Hey, you and Jihyo came up in the industry at the same time, you’re not opposed to bringing out first names in the conference room with her - and you think any semblance of professionalism is pretty much gone at this point. “You know this is how rumors get started, don’t you?”

You wink at Yujin as she goes to Jihyo’s side, towering over her almost comically. Jihyo may barely hit five-three, but she has enough behind-the-scenes pull and power to start or end anyone’s career with a snap of her fingers. You'll placate her, for everyone's sake.

“Well,” you say. “It’s a good thing my job is to get those rumors to stop, then.”

“Like, how convenient is that?” Yujin tacks on, chirpily, flashing her dimpled smile at Jihyo.

Jihyo’s eyes dart from you to Yujin, clearly agitated and annoyed in equal measures. It’s sort of bad already, but here you are pushing her buttons anyway; you’ll walk it back.

“It’s already happening,” you tell her, because it’s not exactly up for debate. “Might as well get on board.”

“This is your jurisdiction, buddy,” says Jihyo, throwing her hands up - it’s as close to a stamp of approval as you’ll ever get from her. “I’m not touching this.”

Your eyebrows raise, and Yujin covers her laugh with her palm. “Uh, I sure hope not.”

The innuendo, the scent of sex, the way you swear there’s a hickey forming on Yujin’s throat - it’s too much for her to handle all at once. “You two are fucking insufferable,” declares Jihyo, pretty mouth in a scowl; not a lot fazes her, but this is pushing her limits and hard. “I’m going to get permanent brain damage from being around both of you together. Yujin, come on.”

Yujin wiggles her fingers in a wave, sends that adorable dimple your way. “Bye, daddy,” she calls to you, and pulls the conference room door shut behind her.

In the retreating distance, you hear Jihyo choke on her own breath, audibly appalled. “What did you just-”

Oh, after all this, maybe it doesn’t really matter who hears. You’re you, you can talk your way out of anything - and then there’s Yujin, who wears fame like it’s something designer, something inherited by birthright and tailored just for her. She’ll never be out of the spotlight for long. She’ll always bounce back, in the end.

Plus - you can admit it now, since there’s no point in a trite thing like shame - there’s something so satisfying about the idea that you’re the only one who can get her out of this kind of trouble, but you’re also the only one who got her in it in the first place. Like you said: it’s all about power. You’ll keep it, you’ll nurture it. Yujin, to her credit, doesn’t seem to mind that at all.

(She’s never been more right: it's just so fucking convenient. You’re pretty sure it’s a match made in hell, but a match nonetheless. You'll take it.)

The next time you see her is a week or so later, and it should shock you, but it doesn’t. She drops by, unannounced, unburdened by bodyguards or company representatives or Jihyo, shows up in your office doorway in jeans and a black top, hair tied back and bare-faced and heart-stoppingly beautiful.

“Hey, baby,” you say, like it’s instinct. It’s probably about to be. “How’d you manage to fuck up this week?”

“No fuck-ups yet,” says Yujin cheerily, eyes trained on you as you round the desk. “I was kind of hoping you could help me get a head start on that.”

Look - this is still probably a bad idea, or it would be, if you were anyone else. It’d be so difficult to find a way to spin this, if you were found out. She’s one of the most famous celebrities in the country. People are just begging to ruin her, to see her fall from grace. It’d be so easy for this to be a complete fucking disaster.

(Ah, well - it’s pretty fortunate that she’s got you, then; she’s in very, very good hands.)

“You’re in the wrong place,” you tell her, blithely conversational. There’s a smirk unfurling at the corner of Yujin’s mouth - you know what kind of game you’re playing. “It’d actually be great for your career, I think, if you’re only fucking me and no one else.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

You press your palm to her cheek, drag her face to yours; you skip her lips, drop your mouth to her forehead, instead. Yujin flicks her glittering eyes up at yours, her dimple winking at you. She’s not short, but she’s small next to you - you think she might like it that way.

“Yep,” you say. “Whenever you want to avoid a scandal, call me.”

“Ugh,” says Yujin. “You’re lucky I think you being possessive is hot.”

You’re missing a reckoning by inches, skirting the end of the world by a thread: alright, you’ll let it happen. You’ve got a girl in front of you and you think you’ve met your match. You’ve got all that power, but she does, too - you’ll never say it out loud, but it’s possible she’s got you wrapped around her finger, she’s got you breaking rules. It’s all very delicate, this thing you’re getting into.

“Sweetheart,” you say, and watch as her grin cracks wide open, sun through all those open windows - there’s no sight in the country that compares. “I think we’re both getting lucky.”

Yujin groans, but then she kisses you, and that’s where you’re drawing all your last conclusions: you think you wouldn’t mind risking everything as long as she’s with you.

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #idol x male reader #reader insert #male reader #yujin smut #idol x reader #ahn yujin

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rainbow-femme · 3 months

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I’ve seen those memes of like “Hannibal vs Hannibal if he had just asked Will on a date” with the second being much smaller

But god can you imagine if season one happened and they were dating, if he had asked Will out in the first one or two episodes? If he wasn’t doing those things to a client/friend but a romantic partner?

(Note: Not implying dating is greater than friendship, but there are more socially defined boundaries in a romantic relationship that come with expectations of responsibility and a feeling of emotional ownership, while Hannibal repeatedly in canon is able to hide behind the idea that he isn’t even friends with Will but merely that there is friendship potential, getting around the idea of said social and personal responsibility that comes with friendship in a way he couldn’t if he had a verbally and socially acknowledged relationship with Will. This is based mainly on the idea of them having definite, undeniable form of relationship with defined expectations others are aware of that Hannibal would not be able to say aren’t there because there wasn’t actually anything happening beyond therapy, as well as an implication of an increase in time spent together and access to each other)

Would it have changed his reaction to Bella if he now had a romantic partner and could understand the idea of having this person keep that level of secret from him and how it would feel to learn this? But also the allure of having a secret like that to keep from his partner and the power it would give him in the relationship, making him feel more secure?

Hannibal’s reaction to Will being too busy for him because he’s going after the Chesapeake Ripper now that it’s not just as a patient/friend missing an appointment/chance to hang out but his partner being at work rather than with him? That in a way he was taking Will away from himself but can’t stop trying to impress him as the Ripper and hear Will’s thoughts? The “date with the Chesapeake Ripper” comment now directly referencing that Hannibal is in one way losing him and in another way gaining him and the lengths he will go to have him both ways?

We saw how Hannibal reacted when it was possible Tobias killed Will Graham his friend, but if Tobias came in and insinuated he had just killed Will Graham the person he was actively in a relationship with? Will Graham who he at that point would have felt a level of ownership over, especially given that in the show it’s the episode he realized he genuinely began seeing Will as a friend so it would be him realizing he genuinely was in a mutual relationship and not just him playing a game while the other person thinks it’s serious? And that being the moment he learns another serial killer might have killed Will?

Hannibal telling Will his job will be the death of him and Will justifying it by saying he’s saving lives and Hannibal snapping back that he doesn’t care about their lives he cares about Will’s life?

Alana in the show saying she can’t be with Will while he’s in his current mental state while Hannibal uses that state to his advantage?

The reveal that Will has had encephalitis and Hannibal has know and done nothing and is in fact allowing it to worsen? It has a low mortality rate but it’s still there (8-10%) especially if not treated, he’s not just in control with Will he’s actively risking Will’s life for his own curiosity. Would he be even more curious in a situation where he could observe Will so much more than occasional meetings? What other inconspicuous tests could he run with Will staying at his home, at least some nights? If he had full easy access to Will’s home while sleeping there?

Will acknowledging he couldn’t be with Alana because of where he’s at mentally being transferred to the question of if he and Hannibal shouldn’t be together while he’s like this and Hannibal panicking at something he genuinely wants to keep being potentially taken away? What he would say to manipulate Will into staying? The half truth way he would discuss it with Bedelia and whether he feels any guilt, and if he does questioning why he does when what he does to people hasn’t bothered him with anyone else before

Hannibal realizing Will is closing in on figuring out who he is and how this complicates him framing Will? Physically it’s easier with more access but would it be emotionally more difficult? Would he want to do it even more because of his emotional reaction?

When Will thinks he killed Abigail and is in jail, he implies Alana is lucky they didn’t get together. What would he say to Hannibal? Would he feel guilty, believing he had been putting Hannibal at risk by not leaving? Would Hannibal manipulate him to keep that feeling of guilt to reinforce the idea that he is a killer, or would he be afraid of the idea of Will ending things? How would Will perceive the state of their relationship with him in jail vs Hannibal? Would they each assume they were on the same page?

Will realizing Hannibal is not only the killer but the person who framed him, the next level of betrayal that would come with that? With the trust and access to himself that would have happened, how much it would close Will off from contact with others even more? The whole “Hannibal doing all of this just to see what Will would do” part of it?

And then how it spills into season two, with how in the show Hannibal is trying to maintain a friendship only now he still wants to keep that defined romantic relationship with Will who is obviously no longer interested? If Hannibal would genuinely see them as not together or this just a rough patch? Would he see Will as being able to stop the relationship from his end?

#long post #you’ve been warned #I started this at 1:30 am and it’s now 3:40 #I read the synopsis of the first 20 episodes to remember things #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannigram #hannibal lecter

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troutsoup · 7 months

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my bloodweave escort au

Alternate universe—no illithids, takes place during the same time period as the game's start.

Newly-escaped vampire spawn Astarion flees to Waterdeep; he's always liked cities, and this one is huge, with more than enough space to go into hiding build a new life for himself. Well-practiced in the skill of seduction and hindered by his inability to go out during the day, he starts work as an escort, complete with a cheesy fake name and a regular clientele. Sure, he'd be more successful with a procurer/manager, but he's trying this new thing called governing himself. Besides, he makes plenty enough to get by.

Gale is surrounded by tressyms, crying into a pint of ice cream getting by just fine, thank you very much. He may not get out much, or talk with anyone besides Tara, and he may spend hours each day reminiscing about his past relationship, but he's surviving. Loneliness is easy enough to overcome, with time. And money.

Can you see where this is going?

Maybe it's Tara that encourages it, please, Mr. Dekarios, we both know you could use the companionship, or maybe she wordlessly leaves the flyer she'd ripped from the city's advertising board on his desk for him to find and be terribly offended by—until that night when he's haunted by dreams of Mystra, and, okay, maybe he should do something about this.

Astarion's nights are booked to the hells and back, but after his regular cancels and a new potential client makes himself known with a magically-sent message (dripping with almost-pathetic desperation), his curiosity is piqued—and he's not going to miss out on some coin.

They meet at an inn.

Gale's hands are shaking when they meet. They're shaking when the elf—who is gorgeous and seems to know it—takes them in his own dainty, pale ones and leads him over to sit on the bed, asks him questions about all manners of things and smiles politely, says his own name to him like it's a secret—Gale of Waterdeep—and Gale's not sure if he's being teased or flirted with but it doesn't much matter when they're kissing, suddenly, or when the elf climbs atop him to grind their hips together, or least of all when he gets Gale's robes undone and brings him off with a practiced hand.

"What can I do for you?" Gale asks, gesturing to him, and he shakes his head, kisses Gale's nose and says, "Aren't you tired, darling, shall we sleep?" And he does, holding the elf while he trances.

He starts to get the sense that despite the circumstances of their meeting, the elf might actually like him.

Astarion realizes quickly that this guy's a fucking moron; the kind of lovesick dweeb he'll be able to drain for some serious cash. He collects the night's due from Gale on his way out, giving himself just enough time to get home before the sun rises.

They keep meeting.

One night: Astarion on his knees with Gale against the wall, whimpering into his elbow because (and Astarion's sure of this) he's never had such good head before.

The next: on the bed, Astarion teaching Gale how to fuck him (he's much too gentle—it's not like Astarion's made of glass, and he says so, and Gale whispers in his ear that he just doesn't want to hurt him).

And then, because Gale keeps begging him to, Astarion lets Gale suck his dick, and he doesn't know what the hell he's doing but Astarion talks him through it and Gale's so damn thrilled about it that it ends up being fun for both of them.

Gale is fucking delighted a very normal amount of excited about their meetings. It's nice to have something to look forward to, but mostly just to feel wanted, even if he has to pay for it. The elf reveals himself to be incredibly quick-witted, and oh is he fun to converse with—they spend the first few hours of their nights together just chatting, and as loathe as the elf is to reveal anything about himself, it's still great to be listened to.

In spite of himself, Astarion starts looking forward to their meetings, too. Gale's sweet to him, and the sex is good, and he doesn't ask Astarion to do any of the weird fetish shit he's accustomed to with some of his clients. At some point, they switch from the inn to house calls, and he can't deny liking Gale's cute little living space, the balcony where Gale reads poetry to him while their legs are slung across each other's on the bench, and most of all his darling tressym, Tara—that is until Astarion arises before Gale does one day and sees Tara staring at him through the mirror where his reflection should be.

Astarion whips around, ready to—well, he's not sure exactly. Pull the dagger he keeps in his boot? Stab her? That's a bit extreme, even for him.

Tara flicks her tail at him. "You can't honestly think we hadn't discovered. Your eyes are red as bloodstones."

"He never said anything—"

"He thinks you're insecure about it. The same way you're insecure about that scarring on your back." And then, calm as anything, she starts a walk to the kitchen. "Come, have some tea. The sun won't rise for hours."

So. The fact that Gale knows about his vampirism settles like a heavy weight on Astarion's chest: the knowledge that Gale sees him as he is and cares about him despite, and the guilt that comes with it.

It only gets worse when Gale comes down with a rough case of I-Can-Save-Him Syndrome, also known as Pretty Woman Disorder—and what used to be questions about how Astarion got into the business start to become questions about what he'd like to be doing, otherwise, and encouragements to pursue other lines of work.

The worst part is that Gale's right in his assumptions—Astarion is sick to death of using his body to trap people. But he doesn't know how to do anything else. He doesn't remember how to do anything else.

Astarion snaps at him one night—"You just want me all to yourself, how pathetic you are to think I'd actually like you for something besides your wallet—" and from the way Gale looks at him, he can tell his little outburst does not have the intended effect; Gale doesn't hate Astarion for it, he hates himself.

Whatever. Not his problem to solve.

He cancels all of his appointments indefinitely and spends a week to himself, draining rats and such. Back to his roots. It feels awful. Is there nothing in this life that will fulfill him?

At least he was making coin before.

Gale messages him again. Something something he's sorry, Astarion was right, please come over. He'll pay for his time.

It's the only reason Astarion acquiesces.

It's startlingly easy to fall back into old patterns as soon as Gale opens his door; Astarion is on him at once; kissing his neck, grabbing a fistful of his robes to pull him closer, ignoring Gale's stop, stop, until he gets a hand on Astarion to shove him away.

Astarion's heart pounds hotly in his chest. What the hells?

But Gale's staring hard at him. "I won't bed you tonight."

"Fine, darling, I could bed you."

"No—" Gale runs a hand back through his hair, frustrated, looking for once like he's got nothing to say.

Astarion has a similar problem. He settles on "You really don't want to bed me?"

"Not tonight," Gale says, surging forward to take Astarion's hands in his own. "I like you," he says, "and I think you like me, too."

"You don't know me."

"I'd like to," Gale continues, unfazed. "Let me."

Maybe it's the wide-eyed, unapologetic vulnerability in Gale's eyes that makes him say yes.

Maybe it's that it's time to try something new.

Maybe he figures it's time to make a decision for himself.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other, huh?"

Gale's smile is shy when he traces the lines of his chest tattoo up his own neck. "We've got the whole night ahead of us."

They sit on the balcony where they can hear the waves.

Astarion tells him everything, starting with his name.

#I have been rotating this in my mind for a week #mine #bloodweave #gale #astarion #bg3 #I made this summary because it is too big of a project to tackle with prose sowwy #what do you MEAN this is over a thousand words

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hlficlibrary · 1 year

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HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part One - Under 5k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Stealing Flowers by @lululawrence {NR, 4k}

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

🌸 More in these bones by SunTomato / @sun-tomato {NR, 4k}

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 Tech Support (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {G, 4k}

Harry calls the HP customer service line very late at night expecting to get redirected to a call center far away. Instead, the person on the other end of the line is a little closer to home.

🌸 cursing the cosmos by @hogwartzlou {NR, 4k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

🌸 you and I love like it's a secret by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 4k}

Louis swallows, looking at Harry, who grins at him as though nothing’s wrong. He’s leaning against the door of a wardrobe, his long hair having lost some of its curls due to the amount of times he’s run his fingers through it. Louis is still where he was the moment the door got closed behind them, all but pressed up against the wood, trying to keep as much distance between him and Harry as possible.

His heart stutters in his chest as he looks up at his best friend. He’s known Harry since he was barely out of diapers, and Harry gets him in a way that few people ever have – or have tried to. He knows him, to the point where sometimes Louis worries that he’s able to read his mind.

Or: It's Seven minutes in Heaven, but Louis sort of feels like he's ended up in Hell instead when he's forced into a small bedroom with his childhood best friend slash long time crush.

🌸 they’re laughin’ and drinkin’ and havin’ a party by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou {G, 4k}

When Louis decides he has to get away, he chooses the next best town in Texas, as far away from his ex as he can get. The real estate agent tells him it’s a quiet neighborhood, yet somehow the sound of a champagne bottle popping from two doors down followed by the roar of a party, sends him spiraling. That is, until a deep voice calls out a tentative “heey” from the darkness.

🌸 The Hidden Hills Restaurant by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose {E, 4k}

“Are you sure you want to hear about this? Wouldn’t you rather hear about what I’ll do to you? How often? How long? How many fin—“

“I like to get to know my potential clients before agreeing to anything,” Louis says and lays down the menu. He’s thinking of steak. Something meaty, juicy, and hearty.

Harry’s arched eyebrow at the word ‘potential’ doesn’t escape Louis’ notice.

or the one where Louis is a personal feeder and Harry is the vampire to be his next client

🌸 Into Always by @jaerie {E, 4k}

Harry finds his ex's knotting dildo and gets a little curious. Louis is more than willing to help out.

🌸 Fakes (Streaming Live) by @allwaswell16 {E, 4k}

Alpha camboy Henry Steel has a rather unfortunate crush on omega camboy Luscious Lucas. He also has a rather unfortunate secret that's about to be revealed.

🌸 Heels Over Head by @kingsofeverything {E, 3k}

Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private.

🌸 No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way by @runaway-train-works / runaway_train {E, 3k}

Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right-hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.

Or The one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfill.

🌸 nobody knows like me by enbyharry / @non-binharry {G, 3k}

Harry does his best to cope with a secret life in the summer of '74.

🌸 Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis {T, 3k}

Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it. Louis wears everything anyway.

🌸 the most fantastic things by bluegreenish / @greenblueish {G, 2k}

When he reads a fairy tale today, and it’s one about love, Harry will find himself in it. Because in all the fairy tales about love that exist in the world, he knows that a little part of Louis and him is written in between the letters, hidden between every page that curious fingers turn.

or, Harry's version of the fairy tale Thumbelina, minus marrying toads or moles, plus waxing poetic about Louis.

🌸 as we move slowly by snsk / @snsknene {G, 2k}

"You know what color your wings are?" Harry asked conversationally, on his stomach at the tattoo parlor, while Louis played absentmindedly with one dangling hand and flipped through some designs.

// Alternatively: Louis grows wings. Harry is the only one who can see them.

🌸 maybe by @gaycousinlarry / momentofclarity {G, 2k}

I cannot not see you again. I cannot.

🌸 On the Go by @phdmama {T, 2k}

louis owns a landscaping company called MANSCAPE and harry thinks it’s some sort of in-home pubic hair grooming company

🌸 Check, Check, Checkmate by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 2k}

Harry and Louis play chess... until another game becomes more interesting.

🌸 Zoey by @wabadabadaba {G, 2k}

Harry knew his first name, but he liked the way Dr. Tomlinson sounded more. Harry watched as Louis unclasped her harness and set it aside and pet her back and under her chin. Louis kissed the top of her head and murmured sweet nothings to her- mostly about how pretty she is and how well behaved she is. Harry wished it was him.

or Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.

🌸 What About Tonight by @taggiecb {G, 2k}

Louis loves his new career. It might just be killing him, but he loves it. What he doesn't love is how easily the boy he cares most about seems to move in and out of his life.

🌸 you don't have to wear (your best fake smile) by coffeelouis {T, 2k}

When Harry was 12, he moved to Holmes Chapel and broke up with his first boyfriend.

When Harry was 20, he sat next to said boyfriend in class, and although he continues to wear Harry's parting gift of his beloved Manchester United sweatshirt every goddamn day, does not seem to remember Harry at all.

🌸 Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 2k}

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

🌸 an honest mistake by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 2k}

“You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to hate him.

Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.

🌸 Stole My Heart by @haztobegood {NR, 2k}

“Oh my god, Niall.” The door slams shut as Harry rushes into the flat. He’s still panting from his rush to get away from the scene of his crime. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

Niall is sitting on the couch in their tiny living room. He looks up from his laptop. “What happened?”

“The worst thing. I’ll never recover. I just reached into a box of free samples outside that new chicken restaurant. Only it wasn’t free samples. It was a man. Holding a box of chicken nuggets. His chicken nuggets. I stole this man’s food, Niall!”

🌸 Simply the Nest (Better Than All the Rest) by @homosociallyyours {G, 2k}

It's been a few months since Louis moved to a new town, and he still hasn't managed to get his nest to feel as comforting as he'd like it to. When his therapist suggests he might need some new materials, he's willing to give it a shot. Wandering into Harry's nesting store turns out to be just what he needed.

🌸 the prettiest customer (and the cutest barista) by fearsparks / @onlythebravest {G, 1k}

“So there’s this guy,” Harry repeated. “And I really like him.”

“Is he cute?”

“The cutest,” Harry said with a bright smile, turning around to face Louis. His cheeks felt warm, but he ignored it, pushed past it. “Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Louis rested his head in his hand.

(Louis is the pretty customer that comes in and orders hot chocolate while Harry is the cute barista that takes his order.)

🌸 A+ Patient by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {G, 1k}

Harry hated everything about the dentist—the antiseptic smell and the bright light in his face and the disappointment in himself and the suction thingy that kept his mouth too dry. But the thing he hated the most was how in love with his dentist he was.

🌸 Needle by @nouies {NR, 666 words}

“You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

🌸 there’s a house in english bond (somebody planned to stay) by @muldxr {T, 666 words}

The Hotel dates back to the mid-17th century, and the owners have invested dearly to make it a home away from home. Please mind our building rules written below in order to have an exceptional stay.

🌸 Swings Said by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright {T, 500 words}

A love story told by five swings who each were there to see a piece of it unfold.

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valiantvillain · 7 months

Note

Also please just give me more about Bei - I know she is incredibly beautiful and romanced The Best Man in Faerun.

What is her background? What makes her tick? What drew her to Wyll? Is it plain sailing for them or is there any tension along the way?

Beitris is a wild magic sorcerer born to a rather dysfunctional family that was the result of an arranged marriage for business reasons, a union that basically put all of her alchemist mother's ambitions to pasture to support her husband's ambitions and take care of a growing family (though not entirely willingly as dear dad preferred business to family). Bei grew up the youngest of five siblings and the only girl in the family, and of the various members of her family it was her mother who was the most patient when it came to Bei's wild surges and taught her alchemy. She also liked to entertain Bei with fairytales and stories. When she died, however, dad decided to saddle Beitris with all the household labor (*cough*servitude*cough*) that had once been relegated to her mother, ever making the consistent comment that at least her prettiness might let any potential marriage prospects overlook her wild magic. When he did manage to find a husband for her in one of his more unscrupulous business partners, Bei ran away with the help of a friend of her mother's to escape being in the exact same position her mother once was.

Her mother's friend, whose shape the Guardian took on in the visions, helped Bei get a job working in a fairly successful alchemist's workshop. Things were good for a bit. Bei was actually able to start putting money towards her future, get used to having independence, she liked the work, and the occasional flash of a smile and batting of her eyes had a good success rate of getting customers to purchase more than they intended. But then a wild surge happened at a most inopportune time while the owner was showing an important client around the shop and Beitris sent half the store up in flames with a fireball. Despite having been caught in the blast herself, she was fired and had to find another way to get by on her own.

Unfortunately, the incident seemed to get her blacklisted and she struggled to find a job. So she turned to swindling and eventually became quite the effective charlatan, no doubt helped along by having a pretty face. People will believe almost anything if the words come from a pretty face, don't they? She did have some scruples though. She would only target rich people and those who deserved it. After all, how much of that wealth was ever gained entirely honestly to begin with. For a time she even somewhat liked it, got a thrill out of how easy it was. Although Beitris was never exactly proud of it, but she wasn't going hungry and she kept telling herself that once she had enough to live a cushy life she'd go on the straight and narrow. Just a rich woman who would open her own alchemy shop, live in a nice house, occasionally donate to charitable causes, and enjoy her own company since the idea of love and romance had long lost its luster as unrealistic childish fantasies. At that point, she'd heard "i love you" from enough marks and criminal rivals to know how cheap a sentiment it was. Though she does still love a good romance novel.

Bei was so close to her goal when the mindflayers abducted her after her latest succession of scams in Neverwinter. And suddenly her nearly-realized dream went up in smoke and she had a tadpole in her head and a bunch of people apparently looking to her to help deal with it. But hey, she's charming and she has magic, surely that will get them somewhere even if Gale's presence is starting up the good old wizard vs sorcerer rivalry among the group, Lae'zel and Shadowheart give her charm a workout in keeping the peace, and Astarion is being...well, himself. And then Wyll joins up with them.

She's heard of the Blade of Frontiers, even had a passing admiration for the tales if they were as true as people claimed. They reminded her of the stories of heroes and handsome princes her mother used to tell her. Yet surely no one's that selflessly heroic, no one's that nice, not in her experience. But then he turns out to be the exact person the stories made him out to be. He is charming. He is selfless. He is heroic. And it's no more clear to her than when he becomes a devil all for refusing to kill Karlach. He is the Blade of Frontiers and he deserves so much better than what fate has given him. Because unlike her, he saw the cards he was dealt and didn't let it sour and turn him bitter like she did. She envied yet admired that about him.

I think Wyll might have perceived it as much more smooth-sailing than she did as romantically and emotionally, Beitris just went in with more hang-ups. Her parents were a rotten example, she'd manipulated people using her looks for years, and the few serious relationships she'd had did not end well. In addition to that, she didn't feel she deserved someone like Wyll. I like to think she was very open about her past, perhaps especially in his presence in this attempt to warn him away from being interested in her. "You hear this? You hear about the things I've done? The chaos I've caused? You sure you this is the mess you want?" Only for him to judge her by the actions he actually saw her take: times she used her charm to save someone's life, to talk them out of dangerous situations, how she doesn't shy away from after his transformation, and how even if she visibly wars with herself a bit she does do the right thing (in particular, helping the tieflings and animals). And perhaps he can't help but appreciate the broad smile on her face when a wild surge actually works in their favor. The excitement and the relief that just dance in her eyes.

And he's so genuine that he just slowly and so easily breaks down her defenses. Internally, Bei finds herself cursing him for making her believe in fairytale romances and Prince Charmings again like a little girl. Someone who makes her like the butterflies in her stomach and find joy in flirtation again. Someone who remains in good humor after a wild surge turned them both into cats in the midst of a boss fight (that did actually happen). He makes her think she's deserving of a great love, and by his act 2 dance scene, she was in love with him. And she'll be damned if she's not gonna get him the happy storybook ending he deserves.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #beitris #dwarf #sorcerer #wild mage #valiant answers #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #i clearly went on way too long and for that i apologize #i am nothing if not chatty apparently #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

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strictolderdad62 · 9 months

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Adult Daughter Moves back in.

Melissa had separated from her husband stemming from an incident of infidelity. Hers. She'd been caught cheating. (Not really to my surprise) She'd been, to be frank, a bit of a naughty slut as an older teen. I blame it on her tits. 😂 maybe I just hadn't noticed, but I'd swear one day, tomboy. The next, her boobs caught up with her bubble butt.

This was an eye opener for this Dad. As she'd always been a great student and never bratty, etc.. I'd never had call to put her OTK. And as you can see a round bottom is a daddy spanks magnet. She was 17 when she went absolutely cock tease crazy. As I later found out, once she'd moved back in, that she'd been known to be "that" girl that many boys knew would save them from blue balls due to girlfriends who didn't. I blurted out, "I knew of two in our circle of 20? friends in school." I was caught off guard when it was my adult Daughter who filled me in on her slutty ways. We were on our second night if her being here. She was drinking a lot of wine when she claimed, Not only was she guilty of cheating this time, but had a few times in the relationship. I asked her outright, "Are you looking to be spanked young lady? The rules have not changed. Yes, you confessed, so I'll take that into consideration." Her reply was simply, "yes Dad. I was bad and I think spanking me is um, yes. Spank me." I broke with tradition as I always apply lotion or baby oil after a spanking. This I knew would make her wet even before being put, Naked across my lap. Coating her full round cheeks with baby oil made her moan in approving thanks "this is the best part of your spankings Dad." Then giggling added, "yours too as I found out."

We had the "talk" when she was almost 19 about her becoming aroused by the spankings. She knew that I also "liked" our time with her across my lap. She told me that I'd hidden it really well, but that when I spanked her on her 18th birthday weekend that when i was rubbing lotion on her, that she felt me get hard. "I was honestly realky happy too dad. If you can get thru to daddy, all other men are easy." It was after that discussion that I'd end a spanking with her mound pressed into one raised knee cap. This alone would bring her to a toe clenching climax. So, I openly admired her body as I stripped her naked. Her firm cones had only grown even more, still firm as if to defy gravity. "Are you actually blushing "? She giggled, shrugging said, "it's been awhile Dad." Brushing the back of my hand over her pussy I complimented her on keeping it so clean shaven. She replied, "umm, I kinda thought you might like it. You used to. I think. Anyway, I shaved last night before you got in." Saying "good girl" was still leg weakening to her. I took her across my lap without worrying about the placement of my already stiffening cock. The spanking was long with much more rubbing and squeezing of her oily cheeks. She confessed to giving head to one of my coworkers in our jacuzzi after a pool party. When I found out it wasn't a coworker, but a major client I landed soon afterwards, I knew why.

She confessed to sucking cock more than anything saying she'd only gone "all the way" with 6 guys, "or 7 if you include Denny" That would now be her soon to be ex. So, taking a break from spanking her bouncing cheeks I asked what she'd done. Her response was cock throbbing right off the bat. "Well you know how he's not exactly big.. um, and so, uh.. he's kinda racist, or scared of... you know. The size thing." I dipped my hand between her parted thighs and could feel the heat coming from her wet peach. Tapping against it lightly I asked, "Young lady, were you giving a blow job to a black man?" Ever so hoping she'd say yes, but it's turn of events proved better. Shaking her head no, she exclaimed, "That's it.. I didn't get the chance. He'd given me so many rides home, um.. well, when I saw it getting hard, I just asked to see it.. and shit, if Dennys sister doesn't walk right by the car and sees. So, no dad, I didn't do that." She knew that interracial was pretty prevalent in my DVD collection. It was time to make those pale cheeks dance.

This brought on a series of much sharper slaps. Asking her why she was so naughty, telling her that size wasn't everything she floored me with... "Dad, that's because your big. Bigger than any of the white guys I've seen. Besides, you love seeing naughty white teens going black. (Laughing) I think that's even the title of one of them." She pressed into my lap. "Yes, I think you'd spank me for it, but would watch if I asked you to... I mean for safety. " She squirmed and writhed on my lap, then straddled on one knee as I gave her the harder part of the session. Turning her formerly pale cheeks cherry red took only a few dozen spanks. Saying things like "Cock loving Brat, or slutty girl craving Big black cock..And once again with my knee being pressed down on rhythmically by the girl brought about her climax. With my hand on her cheek as she raised up in the middle of it, my fingers went deep. Though, I'd ventured this far by mistake more than plan before, this time I pressed the tip of one finger to her tight puckered ass. "Come for Daddy." Was all it took with that backdoor rubbing. She'd never had a multiple climax before, and never was it accompanied by loud, long groans. This ended the spanking with a promise to soon find a solution to her Size Lust. Bathing in bubbles she called to me asking if she could sleep in my room with me. I teased her asking, after your "toy time"? She let her red cheeks rise above the water to say, "nope, but it's coming with me if that's OK Daddy?" She had the eye batting innocent thing down perfect. I was screwed. "Yes, I'm going to shower."

I took care of business quickly in the shower, and her asking me, Dad, are you asleep yet? Twice... let me know, she wanted me not to answer. So I didn't the 3rd time she asked. Limited view, dark plus couldn't stare to break her fantasy... still it was thrilling to be part of.

#naughty #naugthy girl #discipline #stepdad #stepdaughter #spank me daddy #spank my ass #spank my pussy #spankable bottom

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kylejsugarman · 1 year

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brbabcs cutie marks? 🥺

I HESITATED ON THIS FOR SO LONG BECAUSE I WAS SO AFRAID OF THE CRINGE.........but honestly. if im not cringe fail, im nothing at all

i don't one for Everybody, but as for the ones that i do have: walt's is a rack of test tubes. on a superficial level it represents his chemistry genius, but it also demonstrates his ability to separate and segment the parts of his life (his home life, his drug life) and to assume control of/sort/manipulate the people in his life the way u do with materials in a rack of test tubes. jesse's is a vine with leaves curling around a stake/trellis ("haha sick.....weed cutie mark"). it represents his neediness and clinginess, but it also represents his capacity for growth and how he has endless potential to continue growing upwards and keep thriving even in a hostile environment. marie's is a diamond, which some might interpret as a reflection of her materialistic nature, but it's actually an indication of her toughness in even the harshest circumstances without losing her shine (losing hank and then fighting for him in the courtroom being the best example). jimmy's is a two-sided scale with one side visibly higher than the other: in brba, this is easy to interpret as him being a crooked lawyer who will do anything to get the desired outcome, but as bcs progresses, it becomes more evident that the reason the scale isn't balanced is because jimmy Doesn't know how to balance things. he lets his emotions take over, his ambitions take over, his impulses take over, and things rarely balance out the way he wants. kim's is a staircase for many reasons: she's had to work her up in so many ways, primarily in her career (from the mail room up to the offices), but she also represents a way out of despair and darkness for so many people, especially her disadvantaged clients. it takes some work and effort, but u can get up and out. mike's is a mountain for obvious reason of he's steady and unmoving and Stone in Many Ways, but also because he gets treated with the kind of quiet awe that a mountain does (this thing can't be moved, this thing is reliable and will always be here) and because there's a sense of loneliness and singularity to him that there is a mountain that has been there for hundreds of years.

#laferrassie #ask #syd squeaks #im sorry. are u mad at me??#breaking bad #bcs #mlp

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Hector is, obviously, not TRYING to interrupt an intimate moment when he wanders in. He's looking for Voss, actually, so he can bring Lae'zel to him, and this is a complete accident.

Hector is so embarrassed to have walked in on this that it takes a moment for him to realize the parasite in his head is stirring. It has connected - with the Flaming Fist that is the nymph's customer in this lavish room.

Narrator: Your parasite stirs, and you gaze at the nymph through the Flaming Fist's hungry eyes. Your muscles shiver with her longing, your skin burns with her heat.

The Fist's head snaps around and she looks at Hector with a moment's puzzlement, then clutches at her head and staggers, leaning against the bedpost.

"What's-- what's wrong, Jara?" the nymph asks worriedly. She reaches out towards her client, a gentle touch to her shoulder - but the Fist knocks her aside, stepping forward to stare at Hector with an otherworldly green glow slipping into her eyes.

"What are you-- wait. I know you," she hisses.

Hector feels a sudden sharp prickle of dread up his spine. Oh no. "....This looks personal. I should leave," he says promptly, taking a few steps backwards towards the door.

But it's too late. "Your voice--" the Fist gasps out. "The Absolute has shown me..."

"Jara, what's going on?" the nymph demands anxiously. "Who's this man?"

Jara is beyond hearing. Hector watches with horror as the light spreads from her eyes across her body, veins of blue corruption beginning to eat their way across her skin. "--gather--" The voice is not hers anymore, but that overwhelming bellow of the Absolute that Hector knows all too well. "--prepare--BECOME---"

Narrator: Your head screams in agony. The change has come - pustules boiling beneath your skin, your bones twisting, your flesh rupturing... and suddenly, silence.

The Fist collapses to the floor, her body writhing, twitching, shifting... becoming. And what rises is no longer Fist Jara... but the evolution that ceremorphosis has forced upon her.

Uh oh.

-----

Easy fight; only one mind flayer and almost everyone got initiative ahead of it so it didn't even get a shot off. Hector is starting to get really unnerved, though, by all the dangers that keep appearing out of seemingly innocuous situations. There is nowhere safe anymore, while Gortash and Orin and the Absolute are free. And the Fist are absolutely not to be trusted - who knows how many of them are marked for transformation?

Surprisingly, the nymph took the whole thing better than one would have expected:

"Hells. I'd heard tales of mind flayers - talons sharp as daggers, and tentacles yet more fearsome. But no tale did justice to its ethereal beauty. It floats like a butterfly. Its blood shimmers like silver."

"...That thing could have killed you, and you're musing on its beauty?" Hector's skin crawls. He cannot think of anything less beautiful, after all he's been through.

"How could I help it?" she says wistfully. "I don't regret its death. But I marvel that such a work of art could ever live."

Narrator: Her gaze intensifies. Your breath quickens and your heart skips a beat. [INSIGHT] The woman's senses are heightened and her fires stoked. The mind flayer is no mere curiosity, but an object of desire.

Hector stares at her. The people of this city are far more bewildering to him than any of the monsters of the wilderness were. "Well then," he says awkwardly, taking another step backwards towards the door. "I'm glad you're safe."

"As am I," she says, looking up at him with big doe eyes. "My thanks are as bountiful as your courage. Take these--" She presses some bottles of arcane elixir into his hands. "May you have some comfort in bitter times. Be well. Be beautiful."

------

"Be beautiful, she says," Karlach quips dryly as they walk out. "But she's got a pretty weird definition of beauty. Think we ought to be offended?"

"We should introduce her to the Emperor," Hector says dryly, pocketing the elixir. "I bet they would get along famously."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #wellp that was upsetting

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jess-moloney · 6 months

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If Jess does not go to the Ice Studios Complexicon, then for certain this is all a scam. There is no way that anyone has a business to promote their merch at a convention, not show up for it. Those comments have to be bought. I don't see anyone discussing the latest Ice Studios skirt or anything from there on social media. The fact that we never see her with any clients. Her name is not listed as a co-founder. It is a money laundering or some sort of fraud scheme. Brands gain some sort of traction after at least a year or two. Ice Studios has been a new thing since 2016. If 8 years later no one in Hollywood is wearing your merch or not featured on a magazine cover, then someone needs to re-evaluate. Jess would just go on to the next scam. I wonder if that is why she got that certificate. Would not put it past her to create some fraudulent organization and probably attach Jamie's name to it.

I really don't understand what their business model is.

I mentioned prior to this that the Heaven By Marc Jacobs store seems to stock them. Sometimes. But only maybe one item at a time, in one size, off the rack. If that's all they are bothering to send to this place then they can't be popular or selling out. Also, who do they expect to buy that if say someone buys it (for whatever reason) and their friend is like, "Cute skirt how do I get one?" they can't just be like, "Oh go to this store I got it there" because there's like one of them in one size and they got the only one.

Unless their goal in this is to create some sort of false sense of urgency (like there was only one left and I got the last one I'm the greatest) I don't know what else they are doing. If that is what they are doing it's not working for them because in however many years they haven't gotten any recognition and they're business has to be hemorrhaging money.

I wasn't entirely clear on what an LLC is (limited liability corporation) which is what their studio is listed as. From my understanding, because it's an LLC they as "business owners" take little to no responsibility for the debts incurred from this business (among other things) so they really don't have much to lose if they aren't making money. This may explain why they don't give a shit enough to keep up stock or make it appealing but why they keep running it is a huge mystery. Why own this business you are running into the ground (seemingly on purpose). Just so you can claim you're in the "fashion" industry? Or do they really think if they keep doing this very weird FOMO scam they are running that eventually, they'll blow up? Because it seems their number one marketing technique is to pretend like this brand is so popular it sold out the moment they listed an item when the reality is they never had that many to start with so no one actually bought anything from them (or they only sold maybe 5-10 things).

This is really the weirdest business I've seen. Jess isn't even in the demographic that is being sold to. It isn't clear who manages this store or designs the merchandise in the store. It isn't clear who their target audience is. It isn't clear if the comments on the accounts are bots or not (I mean they probably are because most of the comments are about the same shit over and over again or random emojis). The only real comments seem to be the people asking "Why haven't you stocked this yet" or making complaints about the items because I'm sure they wouldn't pay to have bad comments on their merch.

If this isn't an outright scam then it's an incredibly shitty business run by people who have no sense of how to run a business. Something that this day and age isn't that hard to do with how easy it is to not only set up your own website but get stuff made on demand. It's losing popularity over time (not gaining) and I doubt anyone has ever heard of this brand outside of the people who follow Renell or the people who follow Jess. They also both only started to promote it more (like they think now after 7-8 years they suddenly have a chance) for....what reason?

Is it because Jess got in with Jamie and she thinks that this will boost sales or whatever? Because both she and Renell didn't seem to give that much of a shit about it before somewhat recently (and the business was started in 2016). There are so many questions about this business and almost no answers that make sense. I wish it was clear if Jess is going to Complexicon and someone could go ask her literally what the fuck is your business model because this brand is obviously a pile of shit but unfortunately no one is going to do that. I hope she doesn't have Jamie roped into this somehow because he certainly doesn't deserve that kind of publicity.

#jess moloney #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #mail

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rinkrookiepod · 3 months

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Rating Every NHL Arena - Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, CA

Team: LA Kings Location: Los Angeles, California Opened: October 17, 1999 Capacity: 18,230

The first time I'd been to the Crypto.com Arena was for Elton John's Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour in January of 2019. Back then it was the Staples Center (and still will always be the Staples Center to me and everyone else who lives in Los Angeles) and I wasn't paying too much attention to the place. I was just happy to see Elton John.

The next time I'd made it out to the arena (by this time, I think it was being called Crypto.com Arena) was for my first hockey game and I saw the LA Kings vs the Chicago Blackhawks on March 24, 2022. I wasn't quite into hockey like I am now so I was there for vibes and because it was free. The company I work for has season tickets that they give to clients or the employees, and since my roommate and I work together and she's from Chicago and grew up supporting the Hawks, we went. The Hawks beat the Kings 4-3.

By the third time I made it out to Crypto.com Arena, it was for a hockey game that I was actually extremely excited for. The Pittsburgh Penguins vs the LA Kings aka finally getting to see Sidney Crosby.

I've now been to the Crypto.com Arena 4 times and here's what I've gathered:

Ticket prices range from $35-$1000+. The $1k+ tickets are glass seats with VIP parking and a bunch of other things that are included.

Here's what I've paid so far for what games, what seats, and with fees and such:

Kings v Penguins (11/9/23): $55.13 for Section 315, Row 6, Seat 9 Kings v Avalanche (12/3/23): $43.00 for Section 305, Row 3, Seat 1 Kings v Kraken (12/20/23): $165.25 for Section 113, Row 2, Seat 7 Kings v Blue Jackets (2/20/24): $31.85 for Section 304, Row 7, Seat 3 Kings v Kraken (4/3/24): $140.75 for Section 113, Row 2, Seat 7

Downtown LA is a nightmare- no matter the time or day. I've left my apartment with plenty of time and still ended up arriving after doors opened. I'm about 16 miles from the arena and it can take anywhere from 30 mins (no traffic) to an hour and a half (around rush hour). The area is a pain to navigate, as most downtown areas are with one-way streets and lanes that disappear and reappear as you go.

Parking is easy enough to find though once you get close to the arena and there are a few garages almost right across from the arena, but it'll cost ya around $40 or more. I know there are some surface lots around that might be cheaper but they're almost always cash only so keep that in mind. I'd recommend parking at LA Live or near the Regal at LA Live.

The area around the arena is nice though, with plenty of restaurants, sports bars, coffee shops and anything else you could think of. An ice skating rink even popped up over the holidays.

I'm a big fan of the staff at this arena. They're all very chill and easy to find and can help you with anything you might need, like directions or trying to find something, like lost and found. There is a no bag policy here though, not even clear ones. A wallet is about all you're going to be able to bring in. And their sign policy is very strict (11x17) so make sure you measure before bringing your sign asking for a puck.

This is a newer building, at least compared to the Honda Center, so there are escalators to get you from section to section. It felt like a luxury after only having stairs as an option over in Anaheim.

There are tons of food options inside the arena, with familiar places like a Blaze Pizza or a Wetzels Pretzels- even sushi. They also have those Amazon Markets where you can scan your card, walk in and grab what you want, and then leave. Prices are steep, as I've now to come to realize are standard in these arenas. $20+ for a Coke and a hot dog or a pretzel.

The main team store here felt quite small. It wasn't ever crowded when I'd made my way in there the few times that I have. A good selection of merch though and tons of jerseys. There was a smaller store in the upper level that had a small selection of things, which was nice if you missed the store on the main floor as it felt like it was kind of tucked away.

The bathrooms here were nice. The upper level bathrooms had stalls where there wasn't a gap between the door and the separator. Both Arielle and I were impressed with this on our trip.

As for seating and views, I've sat in the 100s and the 300s. I definitely enjoyed both and I think they have their time and place. I was in the 300s for the Pens game and again when I went back to November to see the Colorado Avalanche. I had a good view in both 305 (Avs) and 315 (Pens) and would sit in either again. The upper bowl is always going to give you that full view of the ice and you'll have a better capability to see full plays develop and not have to rely on the jumbotron.

I had what is almost considered a glass seat for the Seattle Kraken vs LA Kings game I went to in December. Section 113 is right across from the goal and since there's a curve, there's more leg room and the boards are spaced out just a bit further. Since it's not quite a glass seat, they don't charge as much for this ticket. I really enjoyed sitting here and since it was close to a face-off circle, I got to see a handful of face-offs right in front of me. I did find myself watching the jumbotron though when the action was happening down at the other side of the ice.

I will say, a big negative of going to this arena are the fans. I've had more bad interactions with Kings fans than good ones.

With all of that said, I do think I prefer making the trek down to Anaheim (44 miles) to see Ducks games rather than staying close to home and going to Kings games (16 miles), despite the Kings having a nicer arena- the parking and tickets are cheaper and the fans aren't quite as bad in Anaheim.

Rating: 8.5/10

By Ashley Newby, 2/5/24

#crypto.com arena #la kings #arena review #nhl arena #los angeles california

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come-see-our-show · 2 years

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I just CAN'T stop thinking about how different Kim could have been.

She didn't have to be innocent. She could've been a Euridyce-type. Tough, scrappy, too mature for her age, who falls in love in spite of herself, making it all the more tragic when Chris leaves her.

She didn't have to be a dancer. I have full respect for sex workers, and I also know it isn't peaches and cream for a lot of women, but in this story, having the "pure virginal Asian girl sex worker” is just fetishization. This specific story doesn’t benefit Asian women, nor does it benefit sex workers. She could've been a regular waitress at a gross bar with sleezy clients. Her having sex with Chris didn't have to be a transaction. Maybe she’s taking his order, or she’s overwhelmed and he asks her if she’s okay. They have an instant connection and start to banter. Then they have sex, not because Chris wants to protect her, but because Kim wants to do it. She has agency in beginning a relationship with Chris. Her having that agency would prevent her from being oversexualized, but not purified either, and she’s still a young woman in a shitty life situation.

Kim could've realized how unrealistic it was to put all of her hopes into one person from a different world. In the time-jump, she could've accepted that Chris was never coming back, so finding out he's looking for her can be a deep shock. She can have so much internal conflict. Instead of a nightmare, there could've been a Kim version of "Why, God, Why?" Thoughts racing through her head like, Why does he think he can come back after leaving me? Why do I actually miss him, after I've moved on? How can I hate him and love him at the same time? Do I go after him? But she ends with a tiny bit of hope.

She didn't have to kill herself. I love that a big driving force in her character in the show later on is her love for her son. Killing Thuy, leaving for Bangkok, giving Tam to Chris and Ellen. I found her love for Tam far more compelling than her love for Chris. But having Kim kill herself does a disservice to the character. I know that Madame Butterfly ends with her suicide, but if you’re trying to do a modern adaptation I think you can have some liberties with the plot.

You know what could have been gut-wrenching while still keeping Kim as a complex, interesting character??

Kim gets one more scene with Chris, in private. Because she deserves to speak with him alone. Chris tries to give excuses, “You can’t make me choose between you and Ellen, you and I were never mean to happen, but I’ll always have feelings for you, etc.” In the midst of all of this, Kim kisses Chris. She needs to see if she feels anything. If she should have hope for herself, not just for Tam.

The kiss isn’t like the kisses from before. It isn’t joyous and youthful. It’s desperate and hungry and sad. Chris kisses back only for a second, but he breaks away, clearly longing but not giving in. He’s choosing Ellen. So Kim concludes, even if there’s no hope for herself, there’s still hope for her son. Maybe that could be enough.

Kim still gives Tam away to Chris and Ellen.

We see moments in Tam’s life, perhaps in an abstract way or silent way. Missing his mom. Being ostracized by his peers for being Asian. Targeted and abused. Hated and isolated. Longing for a connection for his culture that his white family will never fully understand. Tam is more and more defeated throughout this sequence.

Down center stage, Kim watches all of this happen. Tam has a roof over his head, food to come home to, stability. He now has a chance at life, but it will never be easy. And Kim realizes that now. She did all of this for nothing. But it’s too late. She starts singing a soft, broken reprise of The American Dream. Tam joins the song at moments. Slowly, it gets more and more manic, angry, the music builds, and she is screaming and crying the lyrics. After everything is gone, after gaining the hope she lost for so many years, she is done. Kim’s life, in a symbolic sense, is over. Blackout.

Kim has still given her life for her son. It’s still a tragedy, but a realistic one that is relevent to today.

idk how to conclude this but yeah kim deserved a better character arc

#i have so many feelings about kim you guys #summer says stuff #miss saigon #suicide /

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electrasev5nwrites · 9 months

Text

Ninja Daily: AIC 4

"What is your obsession with Zabuza about?"

Aiko flipped the bingo book shut and aimed a scowl at her companion.

Utakata was perched on the table, lounged back indolently on his elbows. He was doing that strange thing where he posed so that his robes fell open at the collar.

She looked away. "I don't have an obsession."

He made a polite, 'Ah,' sound of comprehension.

'I have a good reason to keep an eye on him. That's not an obsession.'

Bingo books really weren't enough current information, though. She was starting to get nervous about timing. She didn't want to be absent for Team seven's mission to Wave. What if she missed them?

She wasn't certain what she wanted to do, but she did want to see them. Just to be sure everyone was alright and things were going to be fine.

'Maybe I should pick Sakura up like a suitcase and take her with me. If she doesn't show up for the exams, Orochimaru can't kill her.'

Aiko winced and put the book away, zipping her bag with a harsh motion.

Utakata followed her with his eyes, apparently content to wait her out.

'That would probably make me an actual criminal. Konoha would not be pleased. Plus she would probably want to go home and that just sounds like a bummer.'

"I have been contemplating procuring our next task." Utakata swung one foot off the table. "There are some large financial institutions in the area. It would not be too difficult to locate a wealthy person who could think of a use for skills like ours."

"Yeah?" Aiko leaned over the table, resting her forearms. "Anything that could take us to Wave Country?"

Utakata raised an eyebrow, but settled back to think. "Perhaps. I see… As a country without a shinobi village, it would be comparatively safe to operate within those borders. However, there is little opportunity to be found in Wave."

He paused. "And even less in the way of comfort and stylish accommodation."

She batted that thought away. "Yes, they're destitute." She wrinkled her nose. "There's gotta be someone off-shore who has an interest in the country. Someone who could stand to profit from, say, increased contact with Wave."

Her companion frowned. "Increased contact? That depends on what resources Wave has." He kicked the table with his heel. "It's an island nation, so they're probably a fishing culture. There is little profit to be had from those exports."

That was true. Aiko screwed up her face to think. "Since it's cut off from the mainland, it's likely old-fashioned. I bet someone could make a lot of money off of them, if it were easy for them to spend money on modern conveniences."

It was a neat solution, actually. If she was hired for that purpose, making sure that the bridge went up would be her job as well. It wouldn't seem at all strange that she was hanging around Wave, and she could lend a hand to team 7 if needed.

Utakata blew out air slowly. "Who could say no to a washer-dryer combo?"

Aiko grinned and slapped the table of their suite. "Exactly. So, the client we're looking for is someone who already deals in technological exports for civilian production cities."

Saying that was easier than finding someone who met their criteria. Aiko and Utakata split up. The first thing that Aiko did was change into a kimono so that she looked more respectable. After that, she made appointments at various offices. Two of her potential clients were willing to see her that first day. Neither of them was interested in a potential business opportunity, so she met Utakata at the hotel.

He seemed more disgruntled than usual. "I begin to suspect that Wave has been deemed off-limits to civilian merchants for some reason. You had little luck as well?"

'Makes sense. Gato couldn't maintain strict control over the economy without exerting pressure over possible competition. He has them scared off.'

Aiko sighed, and let that be her reply. She rubbed at her temples. "I have another three appointments tomorrow."

Utakata eyed her sideways. "I have two," he admitted stiffly.

'Ha. I win.'

The next morning, she tried a little harder on her appearance. Utakata watched, bemused, as she neglected her usual braid in favor of twisting her hair up.

She frowned, anticipating the question. "I think I look a little older and more serious with my hair up."

That impression was not shared by her first appointment, who apparently mistook her for a prospective secretary. She left in disgust. The second appointment of the day was with a petite lady who had a head crowned with steel grey hair and a hard look. She invited Aiko to leave a resume, but had no interest in an expansion of her business dealings.

Aiko walked into her last appointment with the Rinnegan blazing and more or less informed a hapless middle-aged man that he would be delighted to hire her and an associate to ensure that the land of Wave was made accessible as an audience for product. She picked up a brochure on the way out to see what it was she was eager to sell to Wave. Ah. She had a passion for small kitchen appliances, apparently.

'I can get behind that. Rice cookers are great. They save a lot of time and the food is always perfect.'

"This rate is surprisingly generous." Utakata tilted his head at the contract she had returned with.

Aiko preened, pretending to examine her fingernails. "I can be persuasive."

He gave her a doubtful look, eyes tracking all the way over her body, but he withheld comment.

'What, like I can't be good at something?'

She glowered. "Pack up. We're leaving." Aiko untied her obi with more viciousness than was strictly necessary and tossed it aside. She was tempted to wear the hunter-nin outfit. Even though it was short in the shins, it was the only actual shinobi gear she owned.

But it wasn't even the standard Special Ops gear. It was the weird optional kimono + turtleneck combination that Mei's older bodyguard liked so damn much.

It was just really dorky looking.

Aiko cringed away from it for the moment, but she unsealed the outfit and actually folded it into her backpack. It'd be a little easier to access that way. She dropped the kimono and shimmied her way into a skirt, long socks, and loose top.

"You could leave the room!" Utakata snapped. She glanced over in surprise to see that his face was bright pink. He was glaring at the wall.

"No chance, assbutt. I was here first." She flipped her hair out, feeling a smirk work its way out. Ha. Still got it. When she sauntered out the door, he grudgingly followed on her heels. Utakata fell slightly behind a few minutes later, however, so Aiko gave him a questioning look.

The teenage was lending one last wistful look to the bright lights of the metropolis they were leaving behind.

"Aa," Aiko murmured, nodding agreement. "Much nicer. We'll bring our own food and then treat ourselves after we leave Wave."

Utakata wavered, and then nodded decisively. "It will have to do."

Reaching Wave through water-walking was somewhat of a conspicuous giveaway that they were shinobi, so Aiko and Utakata waited to make the crossing until the sun had gone down. The day they arrived was unfortunately timed- the moon was a waning sliver. They had little light to use as they picked their way across the surface.

That, combined with the fact that neither of them was truly familiar with the area, led to a bit of unplanned excitement when Aiko fell to her ankle in a sudden shock of tide, grabbed Utakata's sleeve for balance, and then pulled him down too.

The whirlpool tucked them down, down, down. Aiko struggled, attempting to manipulate the water around her and failing because the natural chakra moving in the current was already gripping all the material and she kicked but she couldn't get out of the funnel and she couldn't see the light what way was up-

Bijuu's chakra tik-tik-tik'd into the water and thrust outward, forcing everything away. In the waterless space, Aiko blinked.

'So this is what it's like inside one of those bubbles.'

Something unpleasant happened in her ears when Utakata's bubble shot straight up, breaking the surface of the ocean. They splashed out of the water and into cold air.

Aiko caught herself before she fell in again, balancing on the turbulent surface. She shivered. She glanced over at her companion.

The Mist nuke-nin pursed his lips to spit out saltwater, wringing his hair with his free hands. "Uzumaki-san," he said.

Aiko cringed, feeling the weight of her sodden backpack like a stone on her spine. "Hai?"

Utakata looked at her, expression perfectly blank. "There may be dangerous whirlpools in the vicinity."

She put her hands over her face and giggled.

Aiko wasn't laughing an hour later when she slogged onto shore. The sea air was fast-moving and cold. On the bright side, it dried her clothes out after only twenty minutes on shore. But those clothes wrinkled and smelled of salt and she kept finding sand in her hair and once there was a biting insect on her eyelid.

She stopped, clenched her fist, and made a sound like a tea kettle boiling over. Utakata took a step back.

"There are no hotels on this island, are there?"

He sounded just as miserable as she felt.

"No," Aiko noted bitterly. "There aren't."

'If I was alone, I would be using Hiraishin. I wouldn't have to do any of this walking everywhere bullshit. I could do missions out here and still sleep on an adjustable featherbed.'

She pushed the thought away. That was immature. She'd been trained to be better than that. She would work with Utakata to set up a base of operations, sleep in shifts, and hunt local wildlife in order to supplement their supplies. She knew what to do and how to do it.

Every fiber of her being rose up and rebelled.

"No," Aiko said, shaking her head decisively. "No." She ignored Utakata's 'No, what?' and held out a hand expectantly. When he didn't leap to hold it, she glared him down. "I decided no," Aiko explained, feeling determined. "I was hiding this from you, but that was before we came to mosquito island. I am going to touch that tree-" here she pointed "-and then we will check into the nicest hotel I've been in for the night. We can come back to continue working in the morning."

Utakata was still looking at the tree. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything.

She stomped over and touched the tree. She left a seal on it.

Utakata was still looking at the tree. He appeared mildly concerned.

She stomped back to him and took his hand.

"I do not understand your plan, Uzumaki-san," Utakata said slowly. He did not try to take his hand away. "You have indeed touched the tree. However, I-"

His voice cut off in surprise. He let his mouth hang open. Aiko dropped his hand and pushed past him, intent on the reception desk.

It was an oasis. It was one shining spot of happiness and civilization in the dark night of nature and discomfort. The young man sitting at it seemed alarmed at her approach. He shrank back, holding up a sheet of paper like a talisman against evil.

At another time, she might have wondered what that distressed mien said about her appearance.

"Luxury suite," Aiko hissed. The clerk soundlessly reached beneath his desk, opened a drawer, and dropped a numbered key into her open hand. The sensation of a 'kai' from Utakata rippled across the room, pulling at her attention. He made a small, offended sound when the scenery did not change, but Aiko didn't turn to look. "Thank you." Her teeth clipped when she bit out the words. She caught a glimpse of Utakata standing still by the door.

She swiveled over to him. "Are you coming?" Aiko jingled the keys. "Because I get the bathroom first, but I presume that you don't want to sleep outside-"

Utakata was already at her side, trotting up the stairs to their room. When the door shut behind them, he drifted over to pick up the hotel advertisements left on the desk. Aiko didn't take the time to see what he was examining.

She was working on pulling out her contents of her bad and working to empty all the storage seals she'd had clothes stored in. The fabric ended up tossed in a pile to the left, while the ruined, bleeding stationary ended up crumpled into the trash can.

'I can't believe it all got wet. Where am I going to get more paper? This is bullshit.'

A high, confused kind of giggle worked its way out of Utakata's mouth. She glanced over to see that his face was buried in his hands.

He'd be fine. She went to take a shower.

When she came out, Utakata was staring out the window. Aiko stopped, still sponging off her hair. Some long-dormant instinct for caution was waking up to blink at him.

"The blinds are closed," Aiko said cautiously. "What are you looking at?"

Aiko blinked. Utakata had crossed the room. His hands were around her upper arms. He leaned down.

"What the hell was that." He shook her once. "Who the hell are you." Utakata's fingers tightened. "And as a tertiary question, why do you masquerade as a moron?"

'I may have underestimated the effect this would have on him.'

She leaned back and carefully refrained from peeling his fingers off. Utakata seemed like he might need a physical grip to the real world. Aiko bent her arms to touch his forearms gently and made sure her breathing was slow.

"It's a special fuinjutsu technique," Aiko explained in an even tone. "It allows me to place a marker at locations that I touch. I use them to re-orient myself in space and time."

Utakata blinked down at her. His eyelashes were prettily curved. "In space and time?" His voice was small. His grip loosened.

Aiko laced her fingers through his and tried to be sensitive to his distress. Even though he was being, like, a total drama queen about the whole thing.

"Yes."

That probably wasn't good enough. She tried again.

"I should have told you beforehand."

Utakata groaned and threw his head back, tearing his hands away. He –honest to god- put the back of his palm to his forehead. "The other question, please?"

Aiko had to think back on that a moment. "My-" she faltered. "I never told you my name?" Oh. Wow. "Aiko." She paused. "Uzumaki Aiko." How awkward. Her mind was racing, trying to remember because she had to have, sure she'd- "Did I ask your name?"

Her gut sunk when he shook his head.

Oh, hell.

"You just knew it." Utakata broke away and sank down onto the bed, facing away from her. "I assumed that you had heard of me."

'No, I just knew you in an alternate timeline. All that I know about you is that you end up banging the Mizukage and we never got along.'

Aiko nodded and lied prettily. "I read the bingo book."

He grunted in response.

She looked down at her hands and fidgeted.

"You didn't so much as blink when I called you Uzumaki-san," Utakata said dully. "From that I could only conclude that you expected me to recognize you, or are otherwise used to being recognized on sight."

'Holy shit. I didn't think about that.'

Aiko cringed.

"From this, I can only conclude that this information proves you are somehow from a village where your family traits would be easily discerned. You say you are not a missing nin."

'I need dumber friends.'

"Therefore, it must somehow be true that you are or were once a legitimate shinobi, but your exit from your home village did not involve rebellion or excommunication. In any case, you were not trained outside of a village system."

'I treated him like he would already know these things.'

"One of two impossible things must be true." They made eye contact. Aiko felt apprehensive, Utakata just looked weary. "You are indisputably a shinobi of Uzushiogakure, yet you appear approximately twenty. Either you are older than you appear, or you have somehow skipped the intervening years between the fall of Uzushiogakure."

'Close, but no dice.'

"Initially, the idea that you were disguising your age was much more plausible. By my math, you could be as young as 35 and still plausibly consider Uzushiogakure your home. As Uzumaki are noted for their longevity and youthfulness, your appearance could be natural. Additionally, I have heard of at least one Uzumaki descendant who utilizes a powerful jutsu to remain young."

"Tsunade?" Aiko asked, feeling the urge to contribute somehow.

Utakata merely nodded. "Just so. However, your reliance on information gathering methodologies that are clearly out of date was notable. That is compounded by your queer statement about accidentally attacking the Mizukage and the fuinjutsu that you used to transport us here. I can only conclude that you were telling the truth." He gave a sideways little frown. "You were conducting a fuinjutsu experiment that involved space-time manipulation. You made a mistake, and found yourself removed from your own time period and in a hostile situation."

The theory about where she'd come from was off, but holy hell.

Aiko sank down onto the bed and tangled her hands in her hair. "Wow," she said softly. "Wow." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were just a pretty face."

Utakata shrugged and ran a hand over his hair. "I can't decide if you're the best shinobi I ever met or the most fantastically inept woman alive."

Well… Aiko struggled to work up indignation. He wasn't wrong.

"Why choose?" Aiko nudged him with her shoulder.

'He knows a lot. Too much, really.'

The teenager made a huffing sound and nudged her back.

'I should kill him.'

"I won't tell." Utakata sounded more like he was granting her a favor than pleading for his life. He didn't even know that he should be concerned. He was smirking at her, enamored with his own cleverness.

Aiko felt her lips quirk up.

'I don't want to kill him. He's funny.'

She slung an arm around his shoulders, ignoring the prissy sniff he let out. "It's not like anyone would believe that, ne?" She squeezed, giving the closest thing to a hug she could manage casually.

"You'd better come up with another backstory," Utakata commented stiffly. He raised an eyebrow and leaned away. "Or at least a cover identity. Unless of course you have plans? I assumed that there is no one you can contact."

Her cringe was real. "No…" Aiko thought of the suspicious bastards that she had associated with. Who on earth wouldn't be suspicious if she contacted them? The truth would seem like a contrived cover story. "I- I tried to contact Hoseki and Mitsuo, but…" she trailed off, too morose to finish the statement. It was definitely not framed to give the impression that her team was dead.

'Dead is more believable than 'not born yet' anyway'.

Utakata came to the obvious conclusion and didn't push. "I see." He very awkwardly put a sympathetic hand on her leg to sort of pat. He immediately withdrew the limb, clearly thinking better of the motion.

"Yeah, no." Aiko scooted away and flopped backwards onto the bed. Utakata let her go with unhidden relief.

Neither of them was terribly suited to mouthing platitudes.

"So." Aiko toed Utakata's side, smirking when he squirmed and glared. "A cover identity. Do I strike you are more of a Hikari or a Hironori? Maybe Keiko?"

"Aina," Utakata said flatly.

What.

She stared. "Love vegetable," Aiko repeated. "You want to call me the Vegetable of Love. That's- well first of all, that's too close to my real name. And that's awful. No. Just no." She pushed her foot against him again, hard enough that her foot flattened and molded against his flank. It was almost a kick, really, not a playful nudge.

"Nothing for it. You are indisputably a vegetable." Utakata grabbed her foot to stop her from digging her toes into his backside.

"That's ridiculo-"

"Cabbage."

Aiko puffed her cheeks up in indignation. "No, st-"

"Daikon."

"You'rebeingstupid!" Aiko rushed out before Utakata could cut in. Their eyes met in a stare-off.

He looked away first, rolling his eyes upward. "I can't believe you suggested naming yourself 'Respectful Child.' It's positively absurd. And 'Hironori' is a male name." Utakata released her foot.

She bent her leg to pull it away from his grasp. "Yeah, but I like the sound of it." At the unimpressed expression he leveled, Aiko pouted. "Fine. Hikari it is." She gave him a challenging look, but he kept his mouth shut about that one.

"About Wave… We will try again in the morning?" Utakata asked.

Aiko felt her shoulders slump. "We'd better."

"How do you want to approach?" Aiko made a kissy face at her expression in the mirror, idly massaging lotion into her cheeks. She looked wan, but not nearly as tired as she felt.

Utakata leaned against the bathroom door, immaculate and bored. "Wave has no shinobi. We could go undisguised."

She uncapped mascara and shrugged one shoulder, almost ready to take an early start to the day. Her plush bathrobe slipped down dangerously far past her collarbone with the motion. "We could. I doubt anyone would share information with us. They'd probably be terrified."

He gave her a sideways expression, but one side of his mouth was tugging upwards. "But of course, we could instead use the ready-made explanation for two young people traveling together and be perceived as harmless."

"Well, if you insist." Aiko held her eyes still and parted her lips just a little, concentrating on slicking the dark paint on her lashes. As soon as she was done, she gave her partner a mischievous look. "Since you're so set on it and all."

Utakata looked at his nails.

Aiko capped her mascara and curled her hand into a fist around the plastic tube. "But if you tell them I'm pregnant this time, I will shove my foot so far up your ass that your dentist-"

"I get the point, Uzumaki," Utakata cut her off. The flustered pink tint to his cheeks belied the lie in his superior tone. "In any case, we will begin with reconnaissance. I trust that you can conceal yourself from civilians to gather information about the island in order to assess what trade impediments exist."

'Oo, I ace this test. The answer is Gato. He's fending off any competition. Don't know how, though.'

She considered pushing aside the change of subject and rubbing her point in, just to make Utakata squirm.

'He's kind of naïve. It's cute how he covers his embarrassment by trying to provoke me. Not very subtle, is it?'

She let it be. Aiko packed up her vanity bag and stalked over to frown at the enormous pile of civilian clothes left in the hotel room. Utakata watched her through heavily lidded eyes, and re-posed so that the excellent line of his neck and jaw was highlighted.

"I kind of want to leave this here." Aiko heaved a sigh, not happy about the thought of going through and putting away the wardrobe she'd accumulated over months of aggressive consumerism.

Utakata didn't offer comment. He just watched.

She wilted. "Can you, like, get me some hotel stationary?" Aiko waved her hand in the vague direction of the lobby. "I think the front desk will remember my description, after how we checked in." And arrest me.

Utakata made a sound of dim recollection. "I find myself surprised that they did not contact any authorities," he admitted. But he pushed himself to a vertical position and glided to the door. "I will locate enough paper."

While he was gone, Aiko sorted her treasures. Kimono, dresses, skirts, pants, a truly stunning array of (generally pilfered) jewelry and tops-

'I might have a problem.'

She stared. She picked up a kanzashi and slid it into her hair, as if she could make a dent in the trove by putting on some jewelry.

"It didn't seem like so much when I just bought two or three things at a time," Aiko defended. The empty room did not respond.

'How am I going to get all this crap to Wave?'

Somehow, she sealed away all of her treasures. As soon as that was finished, Aiko took Utakata to the point they had stopped at last night and stopped to get her bearings. Finding the town that the bridge was being built out of wouldn't be difficult. But…

'I'm not sure how I'll know when I am. Or how I will tell Utakata not to take care of the problem right away, assuming Gato is active but Zabuza isn't hired yet.'

The logistics were… bad, frankly.

She stole a glance at her partner. Utakata was running his fingers down the bole of the tree she'd tapped yesterday. A faint line was pressed into his forehead.

'I'll make it work. Somehow.'

"You're not going to find it unless you're a sensor." Aiko bent to leap up into a branch, out of casual eyesight. Utakata followed a moment later.

"Is the settlement large enough that we should split to cover more ground?" Utakata glanced over, eyes shadowed by bangs.

She strained to remember. "Not sure," Aiko admitted. "Not as far as I remember. But things like that can change. We'll have to play it by ear."

They stopped talking altogether at the first signs of civilization, falling into grim professionalism. There was a point where forest and animal trails bled into a road, and the brush was scarred and fought away with fire and blades. They passed one abandoned house, but there was movement not too far away. It wasn't exactly bustling, but there were enough people around that they had to use caution.

She led the jinchuuriki to the edge of town, exchanged a significant glance, and then dashed through the open to spring back up, onto a roof this time. It creaked. Aiko froze, muscles tense, trying to let the shoddily-built construction settle. She held her breath. It didn't creak again.

'I can't even see him from here.'

Instead of gesturing, Aiko licked her lips and gave the subtlest of chakra pulses.

'We need to develop a system. We can't communicate if he only knows Mist's tap code and I only know Konoha's. If either of us was a team player, we'd already have thought of that.'

Aiko tabled the idea for later.

She did catch Utakata's dash across the open. A grandmother jerked her head when he passed her, but the head-shake she gave indicated that she dismissed whatever she'd noticed. Aiko was still watching the civilian continue on her walk when Utakata shifted on the next roof over. He tilted his head to get her attention, eyebrow raised.

Aiko mimed a shrug and brought her hands together in order to take them apart, miming splitting up. She tapped her chest with her right and then indicated one side of town- the side she knew had the bridge. Besides, the other side of town smelt worse, befouled by something hot and chemical oozing on the wind.

Utakata scowled. But he nodded and took off in the stinky direction.

She was left to blink in mild confusion.

'What did I say?'

Weird. Aiko shook off the oddity in favor of exploration. She hid in the shadows of buildings and moved only when unobserved, relying on old-fashioned stealth instead of genjutsu. Anything more sophisticated seemed unnecessary. She didn't think there were shinobi around yet, but ninjutsu could attract them.

'It's…' Aiko hesitated, crouched on an overhang. 'Worse than I remember, somehow. Did I really leave these people like this?'

She strained her memory. But no, she didn't think so. The civilian inhabitants were thinner, their clothes stained and worn, and she didn't see a building that was anything other than shabby. The market was pitiful- but still every item sold, and there were lines full of people who didn't receive any groceries.

'Pathetic.'

Her stomach lurched, as if reminded that she'd treated herself to a pre-made bento that morning. She put a hand over it.

The bridge wasn't started, as far as she could tell. But there were indications that something was going on: significant foot traffic towards the outskirts of town with the bridge-site and less general hopelessness than she remembered.

'The whole town is in on it, I bet. They'd have to be. There are a lot more one-handed beggars than there were a few months ago, though. I doubt it's going well.'

A worker would probably know what was going on. She didn't remember any one-handed men working with Tazuna's crew, so they weren't her suspects.

Aiko waited patiently for a more likely candidate to walk by and then followed the man. He went nowhere interesting, so she tracked back out and tried to guess what preparations for construction would look like. Once she knew what she was looking for, she could confirm her suspicions that the locals should already be stock-piling and starting preparations.

'They… need some kind of material, right?'

Aiko strained to remember what the bridge had been made of, but she frankly hadn't paid much attention at the time. Construction seemed kind of boring. It… it could be done with wood. She knew that for sure. Yamato did that all the time. But wood didn't seem like the best choice for a bridge that was supposed to last for the ages.

'So, what, large rocks? Metal? That doesn't seem right.'

She slumped.

'This is embarrassing. This seems like a thing that most people would readily know. At least I can ask Utakata. He won't realize I'm inattentive, because he already thinks I'm some kind of stone age throwback.'

The thought was not that reassuring, but it was what she had. So she went back to the place where they had started and waited.

"Cement," Utakata answered, as soon as she posed the question. "A sort of glue mixed with rock that can be mixed on site and molded in large shapes. They would need large quantities of wood or metal for support, however." He pulled a leaf out of his hair and frowned disapprovingly at it before he let it drift to the ground. "Why do you ask?"

'How can they do that kind of work if they're starving?'

She shrugged off the question. "It's what I would do, if I was that near to the mainland," Aiko evaded. "Someone has to have considered the possibility of connecting instead of risking the currents. It would make our jobs easier if someone was already contemplating a construction project, ne?"

Slowly, deliberately, Utakata turned to face her dead-on. He raised one eyebrow. He didn't look like he was buying it.

'Oh, come on. I'm right, aren't I? That's not how I know, but I'm still right.'

"I do not believe the currents are the impediment to communication and trade," Utakata said, after a long silence. "All but one of the harbors have been burnt. The ship docked is a commercial shipping vessel, patrolled and guarded by civilian hirelings. I am more interested in the party responsible for these oddities than the possibility of a land crossing."

Aiko waited for him to say anything else, or to mention the name 'Gato'.

When he didn't say anything else, she forced a flippant smile onto her face. "Aa. Either way, this place is pretty sad, isn't it?"

Her teammate sort of shrugged and shifted away. "Destitute." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisting in revulsion. "You aren't contemplating doing anything charitable, are you?'

"No, no," Aiko denied hastily. "But the macro view of the situation hasn't yielded much information so far. We could befriend someone and get their perspective."

Utakata hmmd, unimpressed. "The community is smaller than I expected. They will recognize you as an outsider, and then wonder how you arrived." He relaxed, leaning against a tree. "In any case, I would prefer to focus our attentions on apparent aggressor, rather than speculate about possible resistance from the locals."

She frowned. He crossed his arms.

They stood at an impasse for a few minutes, watching the sun move directly overhead.

"We should part ways to approach the problem."

Aiko nodded agreement. "You try your plan, I'll try mine."

"Don't break our cover," Utakata said shortly. She shot a scowl at his back, but he was gone a moment later.

"What a brat," Aiko grumbled. She straightened her posture, checked her hair, and closed her eyes for just a moment to try to remember where Tazuna lived.

The builder had a family home outside of the town, not far from what would be the construction site. He probably had a half hour walk to work every day. And… it had been near a heavily wooded area, hadn't it?

With that in mind, it didn't actually take Aiko that long to track down the building. She settled in a treetop to watch the perimeter. Tsunami-san worked out in a garden behind the home for about two hours. She left, and returned forty minutes later holding Inari-chan by the hand. The boy's other arm was occupied by a thin workbook. After that, Tsunami-san painstakingly pumped water up from a well to do washing. Inari-chan was out of sight, likely moping inside. Aiko watched the little family until the sky began to darken, but she didn't see Tazuna-san at all. He didn't come trudging along the path home.

Aiko ventured close enough to see that Tsunami-san didn't even set a third place at dinner.

Her stomach hurt.

Surprised, Aiko put a hand to her gut and looked down.

'I must be hungry if that's looking good even after I saw the market where she got her food.'

She hesitated for a moment, but sprang away to find Utakata. He was already waiting for her, nearly invisible among the shadows of evening. When she held out her arm, he took it.

"Anywhere you'd like to go for dinner?" Aiko asked. She pushed down the uncomfortable feeling of domesticity that statement implied.

Utakata's arm was tense against hers. "No. Though I would advocate selecting another hotel for the night."

She took him to a port city that stretched nearly up to Lightning Country. Utakata looked vaguely ill and wobbly, but he set off towards the bright lights unprompted.

In the next morning, they parted ways in Wave Country again. This time, Aiko went directly to Tazuna-san's home and waited. About five minutes after sunrise, Tsunami-san walked Inari-chan out to town. A few minutes after they were out of sight, Aiko leapt out of her hiding spot and let herself into the house. She did a fast run-through, flipping it over for signs of Team seven or work plans for the bridge.

Tazuna-san had been cautious. There was nothing visibly connecting his family to any rebellious attempt to undermine Gato's chokehold on the island.

At least, not until Aiko pulled apart Tsunami-san's cake pans. She cracked a smile, unfolding creased designs.

'He'd trusted them to his daughter to hide.'

Tsunami-san had done a good job of it too, so Aiko put the blueprints back where she'd found them. It was just in time- it had been nearly half an hour since the family had left. Aiko hid upstairs until she heard the door open downstairs and then left by a window on the opposite side of the house.

She didn't strictly need to talk to Tsunami-san now. Aiko had a solid theory: Tazuna-san had left for Konoha to get bodyguards. He had probably been carried out under darkness by a local boatman. In his absence, his compatriots were attempting to maintain the pretense of normalcy. They were likely gathering the materials in secret as well, or concealing them near the site.

'But that's a lot to tell Utakata I just magically know,' Aiko told herself. 'Besides, Tsunami-san wouldn't be a bad in to have. She must know everything.'

So Aiko slipped around. She ran a hand over her hair and clothes to be certain that she still looked respectable. Then she slipped on her Rinnegan and knocked on the front door. She was waiting when Tsunami-san steeled herself enough to unlock and open it with trembling fingers.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. She was smiling. "I'm your childhood friend Hikari-chan. Invite me in and tell me all about what's been going on."

Tsunami-san's whole body relaxed, thrumming with endorphins and a powerful suggestion. "Hikari-chan! Please, come in. I'm doing some cleaning to prepare for guests."

Hikari-chan smiled, just like she had as a dutiful little girl with braided pigtails and a pocket full of meadow flowers. "I'd love to help, Tsunami-chan." She closed the door behind her.

"The situation has escalated," Aiko reported as soon as she had confirmed they were alone. Tsunami-chan hadn't recognized that yet, but Aiko could read between the lines. Gato knew that his biggest detractor had disappeared and that the town was covering for him. "I was right- there is attempt to subvert the forced moratorium on trade." She scowled. "The export company-"

"Gato-san," Utakata interrupted.

Aiko nodded. "Right, Gato was maintaining a stranglehold with mercenaries. But someone's upset that by seeking shinobi help. He's hired his own man in response."

That made a lot of sense in retrospect as an explanation for Zabuza's presence, and why Gato would have hired him if he was so unwilling to pay the price for a nukenin.

"Another shinobi- And we are certain this does not refer to us?" Utakata asked. His dark eyes were wide and with a start she remembered that he was really just a kid, not long out of his home village. His breathing was picking up in fast gasps. "It could. Someone is mistaken." He shook his head. "Our employer has sold us out. We should leave, before hunters-"

"Utakata!" Aiko held up her hands. "That's not possible." When he tried to interrupt, she made a warning 'ch-ch-ch' kind of sound. "Our employer can't have sold us out, because he's under the kind of genjutsu that he is just not getting out of. No one knows about us." Aiko reached out and gripped his shoulder to anchor him to the real world. "We're okay. And even if someone comes, we can kill them all. We're pretty great." The teen shuddered in her grip, but didn't pull away.

She could deal with revealing her tactics better than the fear of imminent capture. Fear makes shinobi stupid. He wouldn't hurt her with the information. Probably.

He seemed to collect himself. "Right." Utakata inhaled deeply, tilting his chin up. "You are not entirely incorrect. We shall remain as long as the situation does not become too dangerous. At that point, you will use your fuinjutsu to extract us."

"That seems fair," Aiko agreed, who had no intention of leaving to flee anything short of hunter-nin or Akatsuki. "The village will hire a Chuunin team, probably."

They would want to, anyway.

She continued. "We can let them do the work if we hang back and observe. Why endanger ourselves if another team will be working towards the same goal? Lazy and safe."

Utakata actually laughed. The sound was short and high and she'd never heard it before.

She froze warily.

"You are a terrible person," Utakata said. But it sounded more like an endearment than anything.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

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